Summary: Vignettes of yours and Vergil's marital life.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I receive no profit from this.
Note: Vergil has been my "comfort character" for as long as I can remember (I was twelve, it was 2006). I'm glad that there's finally a term, quite recently coined (around 2020 or so, I think), that captures the idea. I write this for peace of mind. A safe haven for my thoughts.
"Dante, I find it disconcerting how we can share Vergil's soul," I said, looking through the window at a dreary gray sky.
I heard the shuffle of boots on the desk as he uncrossed his legs and leaned in my direction. "You do know he's as obsessed with you as much as you are with him, right?"
"He spends quite a lot of time thinking about you." A hint of sarcasm in my voice failed to belie the belief which I despised.
Footsteps, then a gloved hand on my shoulder the intent of which, I deemed, was to reassure me. "Sure he'd love to kill me," he paused, a lingering silence which seemed to emphasize the truth of the statement to come. "But he'd go to the grave with you."