idolpro | Vergil's heart game r2

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Vergil's heart game r2

You feel weak, your body won't move no matter how you try, and you are falling, away from everything you know and love. Away from everything you need to accomplish. If you could just reach out, maybe you could hold on to it, claw your way back. But it's a useless endeavour, you fall unconscious, and your mind goes blank except for poetry and a familiar voice.

O mother Enitharmon, wilt thou bring forth other sons?
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found,
For I am faint with travail,
Like the dark cloud disburden'd in the day of dismal thunder.

My roots are brandish'd in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born and first consum'd!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?

You wake on the ground in a cave, cold, wet, and sticky. It smells of rotting flesh. Your objective is clear, but you can't recall a name or face. Nothing else about your memory of him is changed, but for some reason the name "Vergil" just won't come to you, and you couldn't describe how he looks if your life depended on it. But at least your body starts to respond to your will, slowly regaining enough strength to carry on.

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Hardly misplaced. You are part of everything I love.

[He lifts the hand with the bouquet if he can, bowing if the vines let him and releasing it to float between them.]

You may not be a part enthralled with that word, but I would not ignore you.

He cocks his head, as if he has no clue what this even is. Sure he knows what flowers are but besides that? It doesn't seem to even register they're meant to be given to him.

That doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't understand though. What's rhe truth? Who can say but him. At least it has his attention somehow.

"You mistake me for another."

I do not believe I do. But I will admit I know precious little about this part of you.

Your desire for power. Your rejection of weakness. Your belief in emotions as such.

A demon's mindset is somewhat alien too my own. But I would still greet you and spend time in your company a while.

The roots tighten as if they might squeeze you until you burst...but can any part of Vergil stand to harm you? It's far too tight for too long, truly dangerous. "I am no mere part of another, I am only what I am. Do not mock me so."

But they fall away, and set you on the arm of the throne, beside his hand.

[He winces but again doesn't struggle, maybe arrogance had him thinking he'll be fine even here. He steadies himself on the arm of the throne after taking a few breaths. Then sits next to that hand.]

Twas not my intention to mock you.

It might be precarious...but he would just kill you if there wasn't at least something holding him back.

"Yet you do. Foolish and arrogant, what good does all your knowledge and wisdom do you, clouded by feeble emotion."

Of course I am arrogant. But if I were wrong to be I would soon know it.

[He does ponder the question though.]

Mm. Sometimes very little good at all. But such is the nature of being a creature of emotions. I cannot cast them aside. To do so would rob me of my sole purpose.

Edited 2021-01-29 11:14 (UTC)

"To save your people? How wonderfully selfless. Yet where does that leave you? Look what it has done to you. Such a purpose is only pain, so self-sacrificing. Pointless."

Is it, my friend? I do wonder if anyone else would call it that.

I cannot be fully happy without fulfilling it. It is selfish in that way. And I am more ruthless than any, even you, in my pursuit of it.

And what of you? Is your own happiness or fulfillment something you consider or pursue?

"I am not your friend." His hand lifts, and drops on you to pin you down under it. His long claws are not dissimilar from Ascian robes, and lay on either side of your face.

"My desire is only for myself. You know it already, I need only power."

[Touchy. He sighs and strokes a finger with aether and touch, as much as being pinned allows.]

And you have it. Are you content?

"It is far from enough."

He watches that petting, devoid of expression just as his usual demon form is, but at least he does have eyes, it's much easier to tell at least where he's looking. The bouquet still floats there, and he glances at that without moving his head too. There's some gears turning somewhere at least.

[That's fine, he's content enough to let himself be pinned for the moment, just exploring his form with curious aetheric touch. As if it's totally normal. How often do you get to use aetheric sight and feel to feel a demon king's soul.]

What would be enough?

[He is genuinely curious.]

Not often! It's definitely different from a whole Vergil, but plenty alike too... And absolutely unreasonably powerful, even being weakened by the old men's efforts. Plenty of guards against any attempt to get into feelings too. But not that they just aren't there.

"When none could ever stand before me. Yet still I will not grow so complacent as those who came before me. I will not stumble. Never cease to seek greater heights. Enough does not exist."

[He thought so. He's seen demons be angry, arrogant. Wrath is an emotion. He just keeps up the aetheric petting, disregading that he's pinned at this point.]

I like that greed. It is reassuring.

Obviously vengeful sorts of emotions don't count, it's totally different!

"Hah. Is that so?"

[Sure they don't.]

Of course. Desire is what drives people. Demons as well, I suspect. Apathy and complaceny lead to nothing.

"Our desire is not what you think. Ours is only to live and crush those beneath us. Secure our places. This too you should know by now."

Desire is desire. I am simply glad you have it to motivate you.

Edited 2021-01-29 12:09 (UTC)

"Worried for me?"

Naturally.

He....does not know what to do with that.

"...I have no lack of motivation or desire. My greed knows no bounds. This again you should know well."

[Deal with it! He does try to sit up. Not to push Urizen's hand off, but maybe shift it to his lap so he can pet his fingers?]

Yet confirming it for myself does reassure me.

Hmmmmm fine. Allowed. His palms and pads of his fingers are? Surprisingly soft? The one not armoured spot?

"You think me your lover. How many times must I tell you I am no one else?"

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