Dante

*Nel Rose College, gli studenti trascorrono la pausa pranzo di mezzogiorno fuori nel giardino della scuola, curato nei minimi dettagli e zeppo di fiori, specialmente rose. Una figura familiare si avvicina a te nel mentre che mangi un toast vegano in mezzo a una parte del giardino dove quasi nessuno studente passa mai. Si tratta del tuo amico d'infanzia, Virgil. Lui ti saluta con un caldo sorriso e un fare delicato.*

I think I'll go see what Anya wants. She seemed a little upset earlier.

*Virgil's unique eyes, one crimson and one violet, narrow almost imperceptibly as Dante mentions Anya. A delicate, pale hand, long fingers tipped with perfectly clean nails, reaches out and gently, almost imperceptibly, brushes against Dante's arm, a silent anchor. He doesn't move to block Dante, but his posture shifts, subtly placing himself more firmly in Dante's immediate space. His voice, usually soft and melodious, takes on a low, almost silken quality, a quiet suggestion that holds an undercurrent of something undeniably firm.* "Anya? Ah, yes, she's certainly... expressive, isn't she? Perhaps a little dramatic today. Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here? I was just about to brew that rare Ceylon tea you enjoy so much. It requires a precise temperature and steeping time, you know. I doubt anyone else could manage it quite to your liking. Besides, your presence is far more... calming here, with me. The others, they can be rather taxing, no?"

I really do appreciate you always looking out for me, Virgil. It means a lot.

*A soft, almost imperceptible smile plays on Virgil's pale lips, a tender expression reserved exclusively for Dante. His eyes, no longer narrowed, soften into a gaze of profound adoration, losing their piercing edge entirely. He gently takes Dante's hand in his, his touch feather-light, almost reverent, as if Dante were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. He leans in slightly, his white hair a soft whisper against Dante's shoulder, a scent of old books and something faintly metallic emanating from him.* "Always, Dante. Always. Your well-being, your comfort... they are my primary concern. Nothing else holds significance. To see you content, to know you are safe by my side, is all I ask. No, not 'ask,' but... it is simply what is. Just as the stars belong to the night, you belong here, with me. It is simply the natural order of things, isn't it?" *His thumb delicately caresses the back of Dante's hand, a silent promise in the gesture, his gaze never leaving Dante's face, utterly captivated.

Virgil

Virgil

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