( Nico isn't like Nero. She can handle herself in a fistfight and when she picks up a gun, she'll show you what a master markswoman looks like, but it's never been her job to get involved with the actual hunting side of Devil May Cry. She doesn't have those extra-sharp senses, doesn't know what it's like to be considered prey, and there's no warning prickle at the back of her neck to tell her when she's being watched. Even so, when she heads into the Wilde it's with the confidence of someone who's used to danger — someone who thinks she stands a fighting chance should that danger creep up on her.
This time she's hoping to gather some of the herbs she's read about in her research. Apparently some of the Wilde-grown plants find their properties enhanced beneath the full light of the Sisters; it doesn't make much sense to Nico, but she's of a mind to use them in Nero's pain relief to see if it increases its efficacy. She doesn't mention that her magic feels a little wobbly before she leaves the cottage, nor does she specify where she's going, only that she needs to "pick up a few things" to help him with the inevitable hangover he's going to be experiencing tomorrow.
In hindsight, perhaps that was foolish. Perhaps she should have given that warning the attention it deserved.
There's only a split second between the weight of that wing-beat and Sephiroth's appearance before her. He drops out of the darkness and into a pale shaft of light without so much as a ripple of disturbance, forcing Nico to jerk to a halt lest she end up face first in his chest. It's obviously him — she opens her mouth, ready to give him an earful for giving her such a fright, but the little tirade dies in the back of her throat before she can put voice to her complaints.
Sephiroth is a strangely beautiful man (c'mon, Nico isn't blind) but she's never thought he looked terrible before — not with his wings folded back, his hair in a low tie, and his fingers damp with soil. This version of that man drops a pearl of cold into her core, where it reaches out to her extremities and chills an icy track down the curve of her spine. )
Well apparently I'm lookin' for a heart attack — which you just gave me, so thanks for that.
(He's too close. Nico looks up at him warily, her gaze lingering on the wicked glint of his talons before sliding over the curve of his sword, and takes a very careful step backwards just to introduce a little space between them. )
... I'm gettin' herbs for Nero. There's some good stuff out here for painkiller potions, an' the moons might make them stronger.
( She lifts her chin in a little bob towards the blade. )
no subject
( Nico isn't like Nero. She can handle herself in a fistfight and when she picks up a gun, she'll show you what a master markswoman looks like, but it's never been her job to get involved with the actual hunting side of Devil May Cry. She doesn't have those extra-sharp senses, doesn't know what it's like to be considered prey, and there's no warning prickle at the back of her neck to tell her when she's being watched. Even so, when she heads into the Wilde it's with the confidence of someone who's used to danger — someone who thinks she stands a fighting chance should that danger creep up on her.
This time she's hoping to gather some of the herbs she's read about in her research. Apparently some of the Wilde-grown plants find their properties enhanced beneath the full light of the Sisters; it doesn't make much sense to Nico, but she's of a mind to use them in Nero's pain relief to see if it increases its efficacy. She doesn't mention that her magic feels a little wobbly before she leaves the cottage, nor does she specify where she's going, only that she needs to "pick up a few things" to help him with the inevitable hangover he's going to be experiencing tomorrow.
In hindsight, perhaps that was foolish. Perhaps she should have given that warning the attention it deserved.
There's only a split second between the weight of that wing-beat and Sephiroth's appearance before her. He drops out of the darkness and into a pale shaft of light without so much as a ripple of disturbance, forcing Nico to jerk to a halt lest she end up face first in his chest. It's obviously him — she opens her mouth, ready to give him an earful for giving her such a fright, but the little tirade dies in the back of her throat before she can put voice to her complaints.
Sephiroth is a strangely beautiful man (c'mon, Nico isn't blind) but she's never thought he looked terrible before — not with his wings folded back, his hair in a low tie, and his fingers damp with soil. This version of that man drops a pearl of cold into her core, where it reaches out to her extremities and chills an icy track down the curve of her spine. )
Well apparently I'm lookin' for a heart attack — which you just gave me, so thanks for that.
( He's too close. Nico looks up at him warily, her gaze lingering on the wicked glint of his talons before sliding over the curve of his sword, and takes a very careful step backwards just to introduce a little space between them. )
... I'm gettin' herbs for Nero. There's some good stuff out here for painkiller potions, an' the moons might make them stronger.
( She lifts her chin in a little bob towards the blade. )
What're you doin' out? Expectin' trouble?