[ look there's a lot of little creatures on the farm and that's before you count the preteens and the cryptid; things have tendencies to end up in places so it's not a huge surprise to find something squirreled away in a spot that he frequents
but it is weird that it's addressed to him and that it's so... weighty. he runs his fingers over the symbols, half-remembering some of them from--the Eye, from various esoteric things in Vergil's shop, and there's a weight on his tongue that the cigarette he came out here for doesn't lift
he spends a long time fussing over his phone as he looks for the right words. words are Vash's thing, he has them by the bucketful, but if Wolfwood can just find... a couple. just enough to make things make sense, to make sure Dante knows how much everything means to him, well. that'd be nice. for once. universe. you prick. ]
wish you old fogies woulda told me about the present holiday so im not just sittin here like an asshole with nothing to give back you got me on the backfoot here, uncle scruffy
[ it is less than a minute since the text that dante rounds the corner, hands in his pockets and hair tied up in a messy ponytail ─ as if he had been waiting for some signal of wolfwood's return to the cottage ─ waltzing up to settle beside wolfwood. ]
You don't have to give anything back, you know.
[ there is almost a sheepishness to his stance, the way he glances at wolfwood then away to some other point in the greenery around them. it isn't as though he planned the gift, not really, it was more an impulse than anything. one born out of the need to treat the ones he cares about the most, to keep them safe, if he were to pin point it. because they are important, beyond important, and if he can't find the words to say it then... well he supposes that his actions will have to do the trick. ]
no subject
but it is weird that it's addressed to him and that it's so... weighty. he runs his fingers over the symbols, half-remembering some of them from--the Eye, from various esoteric things in Vergil's shop, and there's a weight on his tongue that the cigarette he came out here for doesn't lift
he spends a long time fussing over his phone as he looks for the right words. words are Vash's thing, he has them by the bucketful, but if Wolfwood can just find... a couple. just enough to make things make sense, to make sure Dante knows how much everything means to him, well. that'd be nice. for once. universe. you prick. ]
wish you old fogies woulda told me about the present holiday so im not just sittin here like an asshole with nothing to give back
you got me on the backfoot here, uncle scruffy
no subject
You don't have to give anything back, you know.
[ there is almost a sheepishness to his stance, the way he glances at wolfwood then away to some other point in the greenery around them. it isn't as though he planned the gift, not really, it was more an impulse than anything. one born out of the need to treat the ones he cares about the most, to keep them safe, if he were to pin point it. because they are important, beyond important, and if he can't find the words to say it then... well he supposes that his actions will have to do the trick. ]
Having you around is gift enough.
[ oh god, that was cheesy wasn't it? fuck. ]