[ he was listening, but the trouble with listening is that you start to lose the line between what's real and what's being fed to you when the only hands you can seem to remember ones are those belonging to monsters who want to reshape you. remake you.
there's a part of his brain waking up from that conditioned stupor, the persona he's forced himself into in order to at least try to protect the thing he cared about most in this world. when they'd called him Dante the first time, he realised--he knew. He'd never been a target. Zulius can see right through the faked persona and while part of that is terrifying, if this is indeed an illusion cast by that monster who called him Caleb sometimes in his muttering madness, but...
There are hands on his face, and it's pushing his hair in a familiar way. With a motion he himself had done every morning since as far back as he could remember. Even before his hair turned silver, even before his eyes had stopped seeing a road where only he walked.
Zulius might be surprised. What with how hot it was in the container, mixed with how, unfortunately, greasy vergil's hair actually was due to lack of care and whatever the hell else he's been through, his hair actually does mostly stay, back in that style he usually keeps. Perhaps just a bit messier, with far more stray hairs, with some very much trying to flop back down over to look like a certain brother again.
Returning him to himself. Reminding him of who he was. He didn't need to pretend anymore? Zulius wasn't in danger? --Wait how many others had shown up? He'd remembered the catlike girl and the dragon man, so surely others had come for those two as well, but...
He starts to laugh again as the zebra man assures him, in that fussy, self-assured way that Zulius always asserted things in that way that stated, firmly, that he wouldn't be argued with. It's so familiar, after hours and hours of absolutely nothing familiar--it makes the mania at the back of his skull swirl, and he almost brings his hands up over his face to try to take the pressure off his temples, where thoughts were swirling and
there are arms around him
the only time anything had grabbed him lately was with an intent to do harm, and while for a moment, he almost panics; the soft and all-encompassing hug that follows is... exactly what he needed, in the moment. his hands free thanks to zulius' bright thinking to take a key, it isn't instantaneous, but the moment it clicks in his head that he's being held by someone safe. Someone who would keep him from harm?
He's never moved so quickly to hold onto it. Weak as his arms felt, tired as he was, body and mind. He wasn't going to let go.
He couldn't even consider letting go, not on pain of death.
Here's hoping zulius doesn't mind too badly that his nails might dig in a bit. At the very least, his grip isn't very strong.]
"No bird soars too high. If he flies with his own wings..."
[ vergil chuckles, a little. If Zulius came here, on his own strength, fought through those who had been holding him here, then... why should he continue to distrust such a kind touch? Someone who'd finally granted his one wish. To be saved. To be protected. ] You walked through hell to find me. You foolish man. [ how is he supposed to thank him? will words ever be enough. ]
no subject
there's a part of his brain waking up from that conditioned stupor, the persona he's forced himself into in order to at least try to protect the thing he cared about most in this world. when they'd called him Dante the first time, he realised--he knew. He'd never been a target.
Zulius can see right through the faked persona and while part of that is terrifying, if this is indeed an illusion cast by that monster who called him Caleb sometimes in his muttering madness, but...
There are hands on his face, and it's pushing his hair in a familiar way. With a motion he himself had done every morning since as far back as he could remember. Even before his hair turned silver, even before his eyes had stopped seeing a road where only he walked.
Zulius might be surprised. What with how hot it was in the container, mixed with how, unfortunately, greasy vergil's hair actually was due to lack of care and whatever the hell else he's been through, his hair actually does mostly stay, back in that style he usually keeps. Perhaps just a bit messier, with far more stray hairs, with some very much trying to flop back down over to look like a certain brother again.
Returning him to himself. Reminding him of who he was.
He didn't need to pretend anymore? Zulius wasn't in danger? --Wait how many others had shown up? He'd remembered the catlike girl and the dragon man, so surely others had come for those two as well, but...
He starts to laugh again as the zebra man assures him, in that fussy, self-assured way that Zulius always asserted things in that way that stated, firmly, that he wouldn't be argued with. It's so familiar, after hours and hours of absolutely nothing familiar--it makes the mania at the back of his skull swirl, and he almost brings his hands up over his face to try to take the pressure off his temples, where thoughts were swirling and
there are arms around him
the only time anything had grabbed him lately was with an intent to do harm, and while for a moment, he almost panics; the soft and all-encompassing hug that follows is... exactly what he needed, in the moment. his hands free thanks to zulius' bright thinking to take a key, it isn't instantaneous, but the moment it clicks in his head that he's being held by someone safe. Someone who would keep him from harm?
He's never moved so quickly to hold onto it. Weak as his arms felt, tired as he was, body and mind.
He wasn't going to let go.
He couldn't even consider letting go, not on pain of death.
Here's hoping zulius doesn't mind too badly that his nails might dig in a bit. At the very least, his grip isn't very strong.]
"No bird soars too high. If he flies with his own wings..."
[ vergil chuckles, a little. If Zulius came here, on his own strength, fought through those who had been holding him here, then... why should he continue to distrust such a kind touch? Someone who'd finally granted his one wish. To be saved. To be protected. ] You walked through hell to find me. You foolish man. [ how is he supposed to thank him? will words ever be enough. ]