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Hell is an endless cacophony of noises. Chirps, squacks, roars, the horrible squelching of the ground and the skittering of chitinous feet make up a constant background of white noise. It’s something you're supposed to get used to, eventually. While the brother’s lay, side by side and sleepless on the floor of their cave- the only warm, lived-in, human place they’ve seen since their arrival- the elder twin claims that it only bothers him when he tries to sleep. The younger barks a laugh, a cold, angry thing.
“You mean like now?”
“Obviously.”
“Great.”
Time ticks by, unknown and dragging as it always is in a place without clocks, without sun. They sleep, fitfully, lay on the make-shift mattress they share in silence. They’ve ceased hostilities, for now. The fighting has gone on most of their lives, but for now, they've call a truce.
“You just… lived here, huh?” Dante says, breaking the quiet between them with his voice.
“I did,” Vergil answers, eyes on the ceiling. “I found it when I was a boy. It’s offered me safe haven every time I’ve been stuck here.”
“Oh.”
In the space between them, a swirling red-black fog reveals a large cat, her head on her paws, eyes half closed. Neither of them spare her a glance, hands moving to pet her sides in unintentional synchronization. She purrs, soft. She’s familiar, this beast of Hell. Comfortable and safe to both of them, now that Dante's had a chance to get to know her. She's a protector, a friend, a welcome reprieve from the monotonous horror.
“How did you even survive, man? Every time you’d get stuck down here I’d think you were dead, but you’d just come back swinging harder than before.”
The elder twin is silent for a beat, ordering his thoughts to give a coherent answer.
“One can get very comfortable drinking blood and eating raw Empusa if one is desperate enough to survive.”
Dante cringes.
“I know, it’s unpleasant,” Vergil continues, “but… you’ll get used to it.”
“Guess I’ll have to.”
“You will.”
Once again, silence falls between them, and though it isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, it’s familiar. Shadow purrs quietly, a warm grounding noise and a pleasant physical sensation that almost, almost distracts from where they are.
“...You think we’ll ever get back?” Once again, Dante speams first. Vergil considers his answer carefully.
“In my experience, there’s always a way back. It’s just a matter of finding it.”
It’s a cold comfort to the younger twin. Part of him resents Vergil for getting him into this mess in the first place, but… that’s what Vergil does, isn’t it? Vergil runs off and does something stupid, makes some gigantic mess and gets himself hurt. And who would Dante be if he wasn’t the ever-loyal younger brother, tailing after him and running to his rescue when he got himself in hot water? That’s how it’s always been, he can't think of any reason for it to change. If he was really unhappy with it, wouldn’t he have just… let Vergil get himself killed, by now? Wouldn’t he have taken him out on his own? God knows he's had the chance to do it.
(Not that he's ever been able to bring himself to that point, not that he's ever been able to stomach the thought with any degree of sincerity.)
Dante sighs, flips over onto his stomach, and attempts in vain to get comfortable. Outside of their hovel, the noises continue. It’s going to be another sleepless night. Between them, Shadow seems to take this as her cue to move, pressing her side up against Dante and resting her head on Vergil’s stomach. Dante watches idly as his twin scratches behind her ears, the jaguar looking for all the world like Hell’s most content deluxe sized house cat.
“You didn’t have to come with me, you know. I could have taken down the Qliphoth myself,” Vergil says eventually, breaking the silence between them. Dante frowns.
“Yeah, and let you dig up some other old enemy of Dad’s? Or… or, I don’t know, figure out some other way to fuck yourself up again? Nah. Don’t think so.”
Vergil looks at him, finally, displeased. “So this was charity, then?”
Dante returns the look. “No, dumbass, it’s family.”
Vergil opens his mouth to speak, pauses, and sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’re apologizing now?”
Irritation seeps its way into Vergil’s voice again. “Yes, Dante. You made a sacrifice for me and I made the mistake of presuming your intentions were anything other than genuine. I’m sorry.”
Dante considers this for a moment. “Huh,” he says, moving onto his side and curling part way around Shadow, petting her before he speaks again. “Better late than never, I guess. Don’t… don’t worry about it, I guess.”
Apparently oblivious to the problems of the men she’s resting between, Shadow purrs away, tail flicking idly as they pet her. At least someone’s happy, Dante thinks.
“...Man, I wasn’t letting you get stuck down here by yourself again. I wouldn’t have done it last time either if I knew you survived Mallet Island.”
Vergil huffs. “I know that now.”
“...Good.”
“...Try to get some rest.”
Dante grunts, a sort of half-laugh that comes out sounding more like a scoff. “I’ll try, man. Make no promises. G’night, Verge.”
“Goodnight, Dante.”