asgardchrysalis | ( CLOSED ) and you fell for their charm.

[ It's a surprise that it took this long for the cabin fever to set in. Months upon months have passed; Dante has died and come back, moved in with his brother, and only now does he feel like he is about to climb the god damn walls.

Frankly he should get a medal for how long he managed to hold out. A big, shiny medal. And a pizza. And the biggest sundae feasibly possible. And maybe a couple of good looking girls on each hip, giggling and running their hands through his hair─

Shit. It's not just cabin fever.

For what must be the upteenth time Dante groans rolling around on the couch, arms flailing about dramatically. Can't get bloody comfortable, can't even nap with the way his skin feels like it is constantly crawling. He rolls again, exhales heavily, rolls once more, then rolls himself right off the couch and hits the wooden floor with a heavy thud. ]

Dammit...

[ Dante pulls himself up from the floor, dusts himself off, and marches up the stairs towards his brother's room. Around this time of the day he's probably reading, so Dante doesn't knock, just opens the door and lets himself in. ]

Hey, Vergil. Wanna do something?

[ Fight? Go for a walk? Find something to kill? Something? Anything? ]

[ Contrary to what he'd expected when Dante had arrived here, things have been... relatively peaceful. Well. Not including the things that have apparently sought to kill them, but when has that been any different from their normal lives? Honestly, he somewhat misses those days. Not fearing for his life, nor being a powerless child — but the combat, the rush, the thrill of standing tall over his enemies.

Sometimes, it sets his teeth on edge that this place might be so peaceful. So more often than not, he finds himself digging deep into their archives, their books, trying to find any clues or signs as to the laws of magic that govern this place and just what makes it tick.

Some days more than others, it bothers him that he doesn't find anything. Some days, it frustrates him to no end.

On those days, he's grateful that his brother is an infant with no sense of boundaries.

So maybe there's a little bit of relief when Dante opens his door without knocking (rude) — he has to glare, but he isn't as upset about it as he perhaps looks. ]

What did you have in mind?

[ It's tempting to throw the book across the room for its refusal to yield any new information to him; the better option might be to throw it at Dante, but instead he tosses it onto the table next to him and stands. ]

I suppose I could use a break.

[ Dante had expected to have something thrown in his direction, been ready to dodge out of the way of a flying book or something equally as heavy, and he is almost disappointed when the book is isn't tossed onto the table. His shoulders dip, disappointment flashing across his face for a brief moment. Vergil's feeling it too, isn't he? Maybe not the exact same way, but Dante can see it coming off him ─ not as obvious as Dante but the tension is still there. ]

Something fun.

[ Something to get him out of the house, out of the city─ ]

What about checking on the ruins of that city the Qliphoth destroyed. [ He shrugs in an attempt to come off casual. It isn't working. ] The tree might be gone, but I wouldn't be surprised if it left behind rats too stubborn to die. Be a bad idea if they start to multiply here.

[ It's as far away from the city and the peace that has settled on them all, grating against his nerves like a rusty cheese grater. ]

[ An eyebrow rises at that suggestion. It's true that they hadn't had the chance, really, to stop and investigate much; hadn't they been uncertain as to whether or not there were other civilizations quite like theirs out in the world? So to find one, and to find one wholly destroyed by a beast of their own realm — it had almost beggared belief, and not a day passes where he doesn't find himself curious about it. ]

For once, one of your suggestions actually sounds fun.

[ Not to mention: if there are any lingering demons, it will be more than satisfying to take out this frustration on them. Or, all else failing, Dante. When was the last time they sparred to their fullest? Back in Hell, surely — or maybe when he'd stabbed his brother and they'd discovered they no longer heal here.

Either way, it's long overdue.

Vergil nods, affixes the Yamato to his side before looking at his brother. ]

I take it we're leaving now. Or do you need time to prepare?

[ When have they ever, honestly? Maybe there's a touch of sarcasm in his voice as he asks; he can feel the agitation rolling off of his brother in waves, wouldn't have been surprised if he'd have left without him. ]

Edited 2020-04-29 04:40 (UTC)

Hey, all of my suggestions are fun.

[ That place had been on his mind for a while, a distant thought that flitted around the back of his mind like a lazy leaf on the wind. It had been on his to-do list but very, very far down.

He half pouts, half scowls at his brother, the expression lasting barely a moment before he bounces on the back of his feet. He wants out, feels too much like a caged animal ─ ha, he has to laugh at the thought. That's exactly what they are, right? Demons that have been declawed. It makes it harder to get rid of all this built up energy, built up frustration. There are options, sure, but the only other one available to him is finding so chick (or hell even a guy, he's passed the point of caring) to hook up with and he just... Lets just say it isn't in the cards right now.

So plan B, which happens to also be plan A, C, D, etc. Find something nasty and dangerous to hit, if that fails goad Vergil into a fight that will leave one or both of them so bloody that they'd get lectured if Trish or Nero found them. ]

Give me ten minutes, I just have to do my hair.

[ Dante laughs, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Of course they are going right now, his things are already downstairs propped up against the shop's door as though this had been his plan all along. It had been, sort of. Three times today he thought about leaving without saying anything, each time he remembered what happened with the White Walkers, so he didn't.

The solution to the problem was simple; invite Vergil to come with him.

Can't get in trouble if Vergil's with him. (wrong, Trish is still gonna be pissed.) ]

Are they? I wasn't aware that the word fun was interchangeable with imbecilic. Or was it ill-advised?

[ He's entirely too smug as he says it, brushing past his brother to grab his coat. It's a cover, of course. Dante doesn't need to know how welcome the suggestion is. This building, this whole godforsaken city — more often than not, he finds himself pacing as though a trapped animal, fed and cared for and baited into a domesticity that neither he nor his brother were suited to.

How the demons of their world would laugh, to see them like this. Sparda's legend would be shamed. It doesn't matter that he's taken it upon himself to patrol the city borders at sunup and sundown. It doesn't matter that he hasn't stopped training daily. They're being lulled into a false sense of security, and he cannot stand it. ]

I suppose you'll be wanting to powder your nose, as well?

[ Said dryly as he follows his brother out of the room and down the stairs, staring at the gear by the door. He had been intending to take off by himself, then. Vergil's hand tightens around the Yamato, tempted to run Dante through and pin him to the wall, leave him there to watch as Vergil left without him. It wouldn't necessarily be the same as when Dante had vanished and been killed, but— the point would be made.

Instead, he takes a breath, forces himself to accept that this is a sign of growth on Dante's part. No doubt he'd seen how upset Nero and Trish had been and wanted to avoid a repeat performance.

That's a good thing. Right?

He nods to Dante's belongings, taking stock. ]

As I recall, it was something of a trek to get there. Do you have the necessary supplies?

Of course it is, though I can't expect you have known that. When was the last time you had fun, Verg?

[ Of course the suggestion is welcomed, why wouldn't it be? If Dante has been feeling like this it is only natural for him to assume Verg is too. This kind of life doesn't suit them, they are not built for it. He'd be crazy to turn down the chance to get out, to work off all that anxious energy that's been steadily building.

In a way it almost gladdens Dante that he isn't the only one feeling like this, that the others are likely to understand him. They're demon hunters, even demons themselves, even in the slower periods of the job they have never been idle ─ not like this.

Dante laughs as they descend turning to look over his shoulder at this brother, unable to miss the way his hand curls tightly around Yamato, and looks back at the front door. Ah, right. He didn't want a repeat of the last time, nor did he want them to hunt him down and beat the ever loving shit out of him for leaving in the first place. Still, the implication of his intent is there and clear, rubbing salt into a still healing wound.

A hand goes to rub the back of his head, shoulders raising as he subconsciously braces himself. He expects Vergil to be upset, maybe throw something, and is honestly surprised when he doesn't. ]

Yeah... I packed a few snacks. Anything else we need we can probably hunt for out there. Despite what you all think, I can actually feed myself.

[ When was the last time he actually spent time with Nero? Thinking back he isn't sure he has, not recently, nor has he really tried. Even back before the whole mess in Redgrave he never really attempted to spend any quality time with the kid. Time spent was always casual and short or pure business ─ all the while knowing Nero's lineage.

Maybe it was because it had hurt too much, that every time he looked at the kid he was reminded of the brother he had cut down. That as time passed he started to look just a little more like his father, started to act like his father, unknowing rubbing salt in a wound that never quite healed.

Well, things are different now and Dante had promised the kid he'd swing by sometime for that mechanic lesson or something.

It's the middle of the day (months after making the promise, mind you) when Dante saunters up the van, head tilted and hands in his pockets as he looks it over. Door open, tools here and there ─ kid is probably working on something, maybe the engine or the duke box that never seems to work. ]

You in there kid?

[See, the funny thing is, Nero really honestly hasn't noticed- not in the sense that he's ignorant, but more along the lines of taking any interaction they've had as time spent as family does.

Well. Sort of.

The time they hadn't spent together is now time he honestly considers as time they do, in their own ways. Vergil spends his time with Nero through recalling of books and soft scolding (okay, not soft scolding, who is he kidding) of his son's lack of interest in poetry. V's spent time with him through touch and simple jabbing at their family quirks, finding solace in the quiet and also somewhat missing Griffon. And Dante? Well, their banter is probably the closest thing to spending time together, but really...

It's hilarious, the more he thinks about it. How Dante is his uncle (and that thrills him and also makes him roll his eyes so damn hard) and yet he doesn't know as much about him as he wants to. Not that they really ever had the time to talk, honestly. Between work, rebuilding Fortuna, diving into the remnants of the Order, disposing demons, and babysitting kids, he hasn't been open to talk.

So there's a bit of a surprise when he finally notices the sound of footsteps traveling up the stairs into the van, door left wide open as he needs the air to pass in and out. He puts a boot to the jukebox, giving it a solid kick at the base, the lights flickering on for a few seconds for shorting out once again.]

Ah, shit. [A beat, and if that isn't a tired but surprised grin.] Yeah. Do me a favor and toss me a screwdriver.

[The whole thing about asking why Dante's here? He'll get to it. Eventually.]

[ There is something undeniably amusing watching Nero struggle with the jukebox, frustrating bubbling to the surface with a sharp kick to the base. Instinct has Dante click in the back of his throat, resisting the urge to comment ─ which he shouldn't considering he has no skill in actually fixing things, he's much better at the breaking part.

Shifting Dante glances around the van for a screwdriver, spotting it in a box currently outside of his nephew's reach but well within his own. Dante retrieves the object and tosses it at the kid, confident in his ability to actually catch it rather than let the screwdriver square in the face. ]

She still giving you trouble? [ He squeezes past to flop down on the couch. ] You gotta tell Nico to take it easy with her.

[ Fifteen minutes, give or take, and Dante is outside Klaus' place in his red coat with his ridiculous sword on his back and guns strapped to his hips. He definitely hadn't broken into a sprint at some point during their back and forth, nor did he stop to laugh at himself for doing so because it made him look desperate. Maybe he is a little desperate, a little on edge, in need of company from someone that didn't faintly smell of sulfur.

He likes Klaus, likes spending time with the guy, and it feels like forever since he last visited so naturally he might be a little eager ─ rapping his knuckles against the door while he snaps a small flame into existence with his other hand. Another snap, the flame goes out, a third snap, the flame reappears, he repeats the process as he stands there waiting.

Man, it feels good to be out of the shop. ]

[in the same amount of time, klaus has gotten cleaned up, dressed and is just putting the finishing touches on his makeup. eyeliner on fleek, the stick lowers before he turns his head toward the knocking, thank god, then he brightens almost instantaneously. oh good, that means he wasn't texting with someone just pretending they were dante or something as equally ridiculous.

following a brisk huff, he heads toward the steps, pads downstairs, softly hushing nukka the entire way to the door, even as he reaches for the knob. the cat takes off once the door opens and what greets dante is a sandalwood mixed with fruit scent rather than sulfur; far different from what he's used to, for sure.

klaus, on the other hand, gets to see the demon-hunter creating fire by snapping his fingers (which is goddamn wicked, by the way).] Well then, I guess it's actually true when I call you ‘hot stuff,’ huh?

[ Maybe it's because he isn't used to it, but the smell of sandalwood and fruit hits him hard as Klaus opens the door. Damn, he hadn't realized until now how much he likes the smell. Immediately his mouth curves upward in a grin, looking Klaus over as the small flame hovers above his finger. ]

Better believe it.

[ Yes, he does say that with an cheeky wink before snapping the flame out of existence once more time. ]

You really didn't have to get dressed up just for me, but I definitely appreciate it.

Edited 2020-04-29 07:53 (UTC)

[klaus visibly brightens at dante's grin, rolls his shoulders back so his posture straightens somewhat then he reaches to brush some loose hair back into the rather sloppy ponytail he threw together. fifteen minutes definitely wasn't long enough to do anything intricate there but it kinda suits him— messy in that intentional-yet-not-entirely way, like always.

taking his own advice and not touching the fire is for the best; he wants to though, he wants so badly to see if it was real.]

Fancy shit there, hotshot.

Good to hear, even though I didn't just get dressed up for you, [he's teasing if his tone of voice is any indication, smirking while reaching a tattooed hand out to poke dante in the chest.] I got dressed up for my damn self, too.

[ If anything he is in fine company. Dante's own presentation isn't the best, except for the coat which is still fairly new, his shirt remains mostly unbuttoned ( the top of rather nasty looking scar just visible) and half tucked into his pants ─ and that's not even getting into his hair. The length of it is becoming almost absurd, to the point that he really ought to take pointers from Klaus and start tying it up.

Maybe one day Klaus can touch it, not today though. ]

I never thought I would like shooting bolts of fire from my hands, but it turns out to be pretty fun.

[ The fingers pokes his chest and Dante steps back dramatically, hand coming to his chest as he mouths a cry of pain. It last only a moment, ruined by easy laughter. ]

Of course, of course.

[messes, the both of them, though neither can complain when it's something they both unquestioningly enjoy having in common. his midriff and dante's chest are quite the knock-out combo, there's no doubting that. so please, let him get his hands on dante's hair one day and then they'll have same-ish styles there, too.]

And not a single day in my life did I think I'd move shit with my mind or have a healing spirit.

[nevertheless, klaus reaches out when dante shifts back, he catches the edge of his coat-collar and gives the faintest tug.] Come inside, darling.

[then he does a neat heel-turn, leads the way back into the house, the fingertips of his left hand resting at his chin just below his bottom lip.] Careful that none of the animals escape. [canines and felines, mostly.]

[ Frankly he would absolutely let Klaus get his hands in his hair, not only is he more than happy to let someone else style his hair (within reason of course, he has a look to maintain) but also because he honestly enjoys having his hair played with. But that is his little secret, for now at least, until the day comes where Klaus manages to gets his hands in Dante's hair. ]

Honestly, a little jealous of the whole 'moving things with your mind' thing. The things you could do with that.

[ He raises an eyebrow, grin widening as Klaus tugs lightly at the edge of his coat-collar. It should be illegal, the way he says those three words. Dante doesn't fight the tug, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants and following him inside. ]

You mean you've got more since I was last here?

[and klaus'd put his hands in dante's hair without hesitation. might even let dante do the same in return since he, too, likes how great it feels. with all the hair he's grown lately, there would be plenty to mess with, after all. hey, maybe he could teach dante to braid as well? wow, these fools gotta stop having so much in common.]

I mean, fair, it's pretty convenient. Don't get excited, though. The biggest thing I've moved with it is an ice cream truck. [which is at the bottom of the hill, so dante might've seen it on his way here.

he guides them toward the kitchen first, making certain nukka (the fluffy gray cat that happens by his legs) doesn't get underneath his feet.]

Sure did. Also gained a whole shitload of space.

[ He doesn't come to her without gifts; a couple of red flowers he had found out in the forest, a bottle of the good booze (strong, just how they like it), and a necklace acquired by means he is unlikely to talk about sober. If asked Dante would be vehement about there not being any reason for the gifts, that he just felt like spoiling her with a couple of things because he can.

It's a lie, kind of. He does like to spoil Trish every so often, but he also likes her not being mad at him for doing potentially stupid things without her. Which he has done. So yes, they are as much peace offerings as they are a genuine attempt to spoil the woman who has been at his side for the past twenty years.

She deserves it, after all, for putting up with all his shit.

It is no surprise that he finds Trish lounging languidly like a cat bathing in the morning sun, brings a smile to his face as he crossing the space to hold the flowers in front of her face. ]

Hey.

[ Dante drops the flowers in her lap lightly and then shakes the bottle. ]

I brought you some gifts.

[There is something about being incredibly, uncomfortably bored that never fails to make Trish feel incredibly lazy. Mercifully, the weather's improving to something that almost passes as warm and she's able to lie out and attempt to get some colour on her. She's foregone her usual leather pants for a pair of denim cut-offs that are just about toeing the lines of decency and wiggling her freshly painted toes to try and give herself something to watch.

The flowers in her lap are a nice surprise, even as she gets a moment of advanced warning from Dante before they arrive there.]

Hey yourself.

[She pushes herself up on her elbows, taking a moment to glance from the flowers to Dante and then back at the blooms before she picks them up and gives them a sniff, making a pleased hum as she does. Honestly, not bad. And then she spots the bottle and breaks out a smile.]

Booze too? What, is it my birthday or something and I forgot?

[She rolls up into a seated position and pats the grass beside her.]

I hope you're not expecting me to drink alone here.

( CLOSED ) and you fell for their charm.

VERGIL; sharpen my knife.

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NERO; i promise not to tell a single soul.

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KLAUS; protesting your paper crown.

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TRISH; you can't help yourself.

Re: TRISH; you can't help yourself.