At last the final youkai were cleared away, and Ephraim moved to Nerysās side so automatically Virgil knew he hadnāt even thought about it. The notion of such a thing amused him immenselyāit would seem that the kirin girl was triggering some natural protective instinct in the Hound, but Virgil knew quite well that this alone could mean any number of things, some of them more entertaining than others. He doubted Ephraim had the vaguest idea of which at this point, so he left the matter alone, his own gaze seeking the second semihuman female. He could have found her in a room full of people or a desert leagues wideāthere was no mistaking the part of her that was as Inari was, and he would always be sensitized to it, because of what he was.
Keira, it turned out, was not in particularly good condition. Though her injuries were nothing life-threatening, they were numerous, and the initial rat-bite had been rather vicious. More than that, though, she seemed to be completely transfixed by the sight of her own blood, glimmering darkly on the grass and falling from the tips of her fingers. He presumed it had run all the way down her arm from her shoulder, where sheād been bitten. Tucking his left hand into his right sleeve, he moved towards her, sharp eyes not missing the fact that she was shaking, perceptibly trembling. He had the absurd thought that she should have told him, if she reacted that way to the sight of her own blood, but why? It was really none of his business unless she wanted to make it, regardless of the things he might say to her with teasing words.
Sighting softly through his nose, Virgil gripped her by the uninjured elbow with surprising gentleness, pulling her gradually over to the hillside and sitting her down. For a moment, he inspected her situation with a clinical eye, and then he knelt on the injured side, extending his claws and tearing a neat line in her shirt, sufficient only to expose the injury. Virgil didnāt have a lot of principles, but he did have some, and he was sensitive to the fact that her condition right now did not merit his usual mannerisms. From the sleeve, he produced a small glass bottle with a cork stopper, some water, and a clean towel, all of which he laid on the clean grass beside where she sat.
The water was first, cleansing the dirt and debris from the injured area. With a moment of thought, he tore the rest of the way through her sleeve, and chased the dirt and blood all the way down her arm, washing it off completely. Lowering his head, he sniffed delicately at the woundāno infection yet, but it was best to be careful. Some of these vermin had toxic saliva. Warming the towel between his hands with a deft, subtle application of foxfire, he dried the arm and shoulder heād cleansed, then unstoppered the glass vial with his teeth. What was within proved to be a thick blue substance, and this he swiped over the wounded area as gently as possible. It would sting a bit, but cool immediately after. Now all he needed to do was bandage it.
Keira had, in fact, been trembling at the sight of her own blood. Even she really didn't understand why she was so terrified of her own blood, but then who ever understood something they feared? She was vaugely aware that Virgil had guided her away from the area, and her trembling slowly subsided the longer he cleaned. With the fear leaving, it left her looking...tired. She winced slightly at the application of the salve, but had little reaction otherwise. It did surprise her, however, that the Kitsune still had not said anything at all. That...seemed a bit unlike him.
"What, no two-side comment from the peanut section?"
Virgil raised a brow, extracting a gauze pad and roll of bandages from a small satchel at his waist. Magicked so as to be bigger in the insideāgnomes were clever like that, though they were also greedy. He hadnāt felt much remorse about making the last owner of this item a bet he knew heād win to get it. Laying the pad carefully over the wound, he held it delicately in place and started winding the bandages around her upper arm, moving up to encompass the shoulder and the bite wound as he went. āYou are hurt,ā he said simply. āAnd you were not yourself. It is hardly fun to tease or insinuate when the one being teased or insinuated to is in poor condition. But if you would prefer that I provide commentary on the amount of skin currently exposed to the eye, I certainly can.ā
It was trueāheād cut through her entire sleeve, which had consequently bared large swaths of her torso, but his determination had been that cleansing the blood from her sight was more important. Though she certainly would not want to wander around in public in such a state, he oddly enough had looked at nothing but what was necessary to complete his task. When heād tied off the last of the bandages, he removed the outer layer of his haori-style shirt and draped it over her shoulders like a jacket, both protecting the wound from the chill and her exposed flesh from eyes, including his own.
Returning the items that had come from his sleeve into the secreted pockets there with deft motions, he took a crosslegged seat beside her. Though Virgil fit in to a certain degree during the day, at night, it was almost impossible to miss that he was something other than human. That hint of gold that allowed his hair to pass for blond was nonexistent under the moon, and indeed, the long strands, presently tailed high on his head, shared the same hue. Given that the under-layer of his shirt was white and his skin so fair, he hardly seemed anything but a spirit himself. Bright blue flickered as he cut at glance at her from the corner of his eye. āI was not aware that you were hemophobic.ā He said it neutrally, allowing her to take it to mean whatever she wanted. She didnāt even have to respond, really, but it was an invitation to talk about it, had she the desire.
His explanation as to why he had not spoken actually got a slight smile from her, or at least half of one. He would mention skin. For a while, she stayed silent. Being hemophobic had never really crossed her mind. It had been long enough since she'd last seen her own blood that she'd actually forgotten, as odd as that may sound.
"My hemophobia only extends to my own blood. I'm fine with anyone else's. I've had it for as long as I can remember." She shrugged slightly, pulling the haori closer around her. She could smell him on it, though she really did not understand just why it was that this surprised her. "To be honest, it's been so long since I've seen my own blood that I'd actually forgotten." The last time had actually be when she was fifteen, and after struggling against her restraints, she'd torn a gash down her arm. It had been then that they had classified her -wrongly, mind you- as suicidal.
Virgil inclined his head, more to show that he had been listening than to express agreement. āChances are good that you will see it many more times before all is said and done, if this is the path you choose to walk,ā He said in response. Overcoming oneās fear was not a simple thing to do. Fear was as much a plague upon the strong as it was upon the weak, for the strong knew little about how to deal with it, unless they had been weak first. Even thenā¦ it only meant that what was feared was that much worse. He turned his head then, to regard her more fully.
There was, of course, no mistaking that he took a certain kind of masculine satisfaction from the fact that she was wearing his clothes, but, inclined to such trains of thought as he was, Virgil was in fact capable of things other than sex and innuendo, and so he allowed the feeling only a moment to savor before he turned it aside and refocused on the matter at hand. āWhether you tread any further down this road is as much your choice as it was to begin. Know this. At any point, you can stop, you can be done. What you are will never change, but you would not be the first god-blooded child to successfully ignore your heritage. I could even suppress your power, if you wanted, or take your memories, or both. This could all become nothing to you, if you want it to be.ā He was not, of course, telling her what she should do or should want, only what was possible if she chose it.
He almost envied herānot the circumstances, but that ability to choose. For all his appearance of being free and beholden to nothing, Virgil had made very few of his own choices in his life, because what he was, who he was, had always carried a set of expectations, and there was no suppressing what was gifted to himāor what he was cursed to be, depending on how he felt about it all on the day. But just because he was a bit jealous of the choice didnāt mean he would deny it to her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Keira cocked her head slightly, as if in thought, which in truth, she was. He was right, of course. There was a good chance that she would see her own blood a lot in the days to come, if she chose to continue. She thought about his offer. It was an interesting choice, really. To be able to forget, to move on like nothing had happened. But it was not what she wanted. Having her memories erased was simply running from what she was, and she would not do that. Her father ran from his problems; she would not become the man.
So, she shook her head. "I do believe that I've already told you once that I would rather not have my mind poked around with tumor-inducing magic fingers. Just because something is difficult does not mean that I'm going to simply run away. It simply means I need to overcome certain fears."
A smile tilted Virgilās mouth, and he raised an eyebrow. āJust as I believe I told you that my fingers do not induce cancerous growths. I assure you, I only use their magic for good.ā Reverting to his much more usual self, heād leaned in such that the last sentence was breathed against the shell of her ear. He was tempted to just move the extra few inches and nip it, but he refrained, instead using one of said magic fingers to trail with ghostlike lightness down the column of her spine, ending at the small of her back. She was so tenseāhe suspected it was a permanent condition. One of these days, he really was going to make her relax. And perhaps he would work the knots and tension out of her with said hands.
Purely as a courtesy, of course. Warriors needed to remain loose and limber, and there was no substitute for a good massage. He doubted sheād ever actually had one; psychiatric institutions hardly seemed the right setting, and trying to imagine someone with an aversion to touch actually going to a professional for such a thing was absurd at best. So on his way back up, he gently knuckled the same line, pressing at a few of the worst spots and shaking his head. āPerhaps whilst you are overcoming those fears, you should consider taking better care of yourself, lovely. It does not do to take on difficult tasks at less than oneās best, no?ā
It really was odd, for one to have such an aversion to touch, that she would not be bothered by Virgil's touch. Of all people who she wouldn't want touching her, he should be at the top of the list. Yet he was the only one who could touch her. She shivered slightly as he worked out her back. She rolled out her neck then. Perhaps he was right, though really, she couldn't help it most of the time, as stiffness and the tense feeling she had had been bred into her since she was about ten years old.
She exhaled through her nose. "Well, considering you are the only one who can touch me without adverse consequences, what exactly do you suggest then?"
He wondered for just a moment if he should be offended by the question. She was making it so easy for him, really. It wasnāt like he needed such obvious opportunity. Then again, maybe he did, if she hadnāt guessed at the answers heād give already. The expression he gave her was clearly incredulous for just long enough to convey his disbelief that sheād given him such a massive opening, and then his features reassembled themselves into their usual vaguely-sly cast, and he leaned close, pressing with a single digit only against her good shoulder, until she was laying back against the hillside.
Perhaps it was time for a reminder of just what kind of creature he was, if she could so easily forget in such a manner. Mindful of her injury even so, he braced a hand on either side of her head, looming dangerously close, but touching her not at all. āNo adverse consequences?ā he repeated, his voice a sultry purr. āAre you so sure, lovely?ā There it was again, that damnable pull of hers, like she was a magnet and he was made of iron, but he was stronger than that, and so he only suggested, lowering his head to breathe in the smell of her from the spot between her jaw and throat. Her hair was especially fragrant, actuallyāhe rather liked the scent.
From that spot, his next words were barely a murmur. āI know many good ways to ease tension, Keira. You would enjoy each and every one of them, I promise you that.ā He was so tempted to just prove it, too, but it wasnāt enough. Not when, consenting though she would be, she would only resent him for it later, file it away as another unpleasant memory in a litany of them, a trauma to be added to the list. Noāhe would never be satisfied being such a footnote in someoneās life, not when he had committed to the chase. He would see it through, and in the right way. There was just the barest glint of gold to his eye when he smiled, pearlescent canine teeth more prominent than they would be in a human mouth. However docile he might appear to her, he was nothing so tame as a human, and disdained the idea of being thought of as one might think of any other man.
Abruptly, he pushed away, resuming his seat with a truly unfair amount of dignity and grace considering what heād just been doing, the smile receding to the faintest hint of smugness. āBut actually, I was speaking in general terms. One should always be mindful of oneās health. With regards to muscle tension, youāve already used the right idiom. Magic fingers.ā He raised a hand, digits spread, and moved them in a vaguely wavelike fashion. āConveniently, theyāre never cold, either, which makes for effective massages, really. Whether you take advantage of my talents is, of course, entirely up to you.ā He didnāt specify which talents he was talking about, either.
She perhaps should have expected him to reply as such, though still, the strength of his response was much stronger than she expected. Much to her surprise, she felt herself drawn to him, as well. It both terrified and surprised her, and she had no idea what to make of it. She shivered as he smelled her, her physical response not at all what she expected. She wanted to touch him, to bring him closer, to make him give her what he was offering.
That was utterly terrifying. And then, he was gone, and for a long few minutes, she simply lay there, trying to regain control of her body that had seemed to have a mind of its own. Her heart was racing, but it was not quite the adrenaline she was used to. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she sat up, this time scowling. For another few seconds, she didn't say anything, and then finally, she said, "You're an asshole, you know that is not what I meant."
Perhaps it was only Virgil who could find being called an asshole endearing, but he certainly could. Ephraim called him worse things than this several times a day. That it was the most potent insult she could think of in the moment, or the one she felt was appropriate, only managed to make him chuckle. She was quite in denial regarding some things, and it was, dare he say it, cute. He never really enjoyed himself when the pursuit was easy, after all. His sense of smell was far too good to miss the pheromones she was giving off, and besides that, he could hear the beating of her heart if he listened for it.
āThen perhaps, lovely, you should have been more specific. Itās a very valuable skill, to be able to tell someone exactly what it is that you desire.ā As usual, he was talking on several different levels at once, and all of them were quite true. āThough I suspect that in this case, letting me be a bit creative had its benefits as well, hm?ā He smiled that dangerous fox-smile, and then stood, brushing grass gently from his clothing before offering her a hand up.
āI do believe, however, that youāve had rather enough excitement for one night. Shall I take you home?ā Ephraim and Nerys seemed to have wanderedānot that he would have cared if theyād seen any of that. Virgil didnāt have a lot of shame, after all.
Keira, it turned out, was not in particularly good condition. Though her injuries were nothing life-threatening, they were numerous, and the initial rat-bite had been rather vicious. More than that, though, she seemed to be completely transfixed by the sight of her own blood, glimmering darkly on the grass and falling from the tips of her fingers. He presumed it had run all the way down her arm from her shoulder, where sheād been bitten. Tucking his left hand into his right sleeve, he moved towards her, sharp eyes not missing the fact that she was shaking, perceptibly trembling. He had the absurd thought that she should have told him, if she reacted that way to the sight of her own blood, but why? It was really none of his business unless she wanted to make it, regardless of the things he might say to her with teasing words.
Sighting softly through his nose, Virgil gripped her by the uninjured elbow with surprising gentleness, pulling her gradually over to the hillside and sitting her down. For a moment, he inspected her situation with a clinical eye, and then he knelt on the injured side, extending his claws and tearing a neat line in her shirt, sufficient only to expose the injury. Virgil didnāt have a lot of principles, but he did have some, and he was sensitive to the fact that her condition right now did not merit his usual mannerisms. From the sleeve, he produced a small glass bottle with a cork stopper, some water, and a clean towel, all of which he laid on the clean grass beside where she sat.
The water was first, cleansing the dirt and debris from the injured area. With a moment of thought, he tore the rest of the way through her sleeve, and chased the dirt and blood all the way down her arm, washing it off completely. Lowering his head, he sniffed delicately at the woundāno infection yet, but it was best to be careful. Some of these vermin had toxic saliva. Warming the towel between his hands with a deft, subtle application of foxfire, he dried the arm and shoulder heād cleansed, then unstoppered the glass vial with his teeth. What was within proved to be a thick blue substance, and this he swiped over the wounded area as gently as possible. It would sting a bit, but cool immediately after. Now all he needed to do was bandage it.
Keira had, in fact, been trembling at the sight of her own blood. Even she really didn't understand why she was so terrified of her own blood, but then who ever understood something they feared? She was vaugely aware that Virgil had guided her away from the area, and her trembling slowly subsided the longer he cleaned. With the fear leaving, it left her looking...tired. She winced slightly at the application of the salve, but had little reaction otherwise. It did surprise her, however, that the Kitsune still had not said anything at all. That...seemed a bit unlike him.
"What, no two-side comment from the peanut section?"
Virgil raised a brow, extracting a gauze pad and roll of bandages from a small satchel at his waist. Magicked so as to be bigger in the insideāgnomes were clever like that, though they were also greedy. He hadnāt felt much remorse about making the last owner of this item a bet he knew heād win to get it. Laying the pad carefully over the wound, he held it delicately in place and started winding the bandages around her upper arm, moving up to encompass the shoulder and the bite wound as he went. āYou are hurt,ā he said simply. āAnd you were not yourself. It is hardly fun to tease or insinuate when the one being teased or insinuated to is in poor condition. But if you would prefer that I provide commentary on the amount of skin currently exposed to the eye, I certainly can.ā
It was trueāheād cut through her entire sleeve, which had consequently bared large swaths of her torso, but his determination had been that cleansing the blood from her sight was more important. Though she certainly would not want to wander around in public in such a state, he oddly enough had looked at nothing but what was necessary to complete his task. When heād tied off the last of the bandages, he removed the outer layer of his haori-style shirt and draped it over her shoulders like a jacket, both protecting the wound from the chill and her exposed flesh from eyes, including his own.
Returning the items that had come from his sleeve into the secreted pockets there with deft motions, he took a crosslegged seat beside her. Though Virgil fit in to a certain degree during the day, at night, it was almost impossible to miss that he was something other than human. That hint of gold that allowed his hair to pass for blond was nonexistent under the moon, and indeed, the long strands, presently tailed high on his head, shared the same hue. Given that the under-layer of his shirt was white and his skin so fair, he hardly seemed anything but a spirit himself. Bright blue flickered as he cut at glance at her from the corner of his eye. āI was not aware that you were hemophobic.ā He said it neutrally, allowing her to take it to mean whatever she wanted. She didnāt even have to respond, really, but it was an invitation to talk about it, had she the desire.
His explanation as to why he had not spoken actually got a slight smile from her, or at least half of one. He would mention skin. For a while, she stayed silent. Being hemophobic had never really crossed her mind. It had been long enough since she'd last seen her own blood that she'd actually forgotten, as odd as that may sound.
"My hemophobia only extends to my own blood. I'm fine with anyone else's. I've had it for as long as I can remember." She shrugged slightly, pulling the haori closer around her. She could smell him on it, though she really did not understand just why it was that this surprised her. "To be honest, it's been so long since I've seen my own blood that I'd actually forgotten." The last time had actually be when she was fifteen, and after struggling against her restraints, she'd torn a gash down her arm. It had been then that they had classified her -wrongly, mind you- as suicidal.
Virgil inclined his head, more to show that he had been listening than to express agreement. āChances are good that you will see it many more times before all is said and done, if this is the path you choose to walk,ā He said in response. Overcoming oneās fear was not a simple thing to do. Fear was as much a plague upon the strong as it was upon the weak, for the strong knew little about how to deal with it, unless they had been weak first. Even thenā¦ it only meant that what was feared was that much worse. He turned his head then, to regard her more fully.
There was, of course, no mistaking that he took a certain kind of masculine satisfaction from the fact that she was wearing his clothes, but, inclined to such trains of thought as he was, Virgil was in fact capable of things other than sex and innuendo, and so he allowed the feeling only a moment to savor before he turned it aside and refocused on the matter at hand. āWhether you tread any further down this road is as much your choice as it was to begin. Know this. At any point, you can stop, you can be done. What you are will never change, but you would not be the first god-blooded child to successfully ignore your heritage. I could even suppress your power, if you wanted, or take your memories, or both. This could all become nothing to you, if you want it to be.ā He was not, of course, telling her what she should do or should want, only what was possible if she chose it.
He almost envied herānot the circumstances, but that ability to choose. For all his appearance of being free and beholden to nothing, Virgil had made very few of his own choices in his life, because what he was, who he was, had always carried a set of expectations, and there was no suppressing what was gifted to himāor what he was cursed to be, depending on how he felt about it all on the day. But just because he was a bit jealous of the choice didnāt mean he would deny it to her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Keira cocked her head slightly, as if in thought, which in truth, she was. He was right, of course. There was a good chance that she would see her own blood a lot in the days to come, if she chose to continue. She thought about his offer. It was an interesting choice, really. To be able to forget, to move on like nothing had happened. But it was not what she wanted. Having her memories erased was simply running from what she was, and she would not do that. Her father ran from his problems; she would not become the man.
So, she shook her head. "I do believe that I've already told you once that I would rather not have my mind poked around with tumor-inducing magic fingers. Just because something is difficult does not mean that I'm going to simply run away. It simply means I need to overcome certain fears."
A smile tilted Virgilās mouth, and he raised an eyebrow. āJust as I believe I told you that my fingers do not induce cancerous growths. I assure you, I only use their magic for good.ā Reverting to his much more usual self, heād leaned in such that the last sentence was breathed against the shell of her ear. He was tempted to just move the extra few inches and nip it, but he refrained, instead using one of said magic fingers to trail with ghostlike lightness down the column of her spine, ending at the small of her back. She was so tenseāhe suspected it was a permanent condition. One of these days, he really was going to make her relax. And perhaps he would work the knots and tension out of her with said hands.
Purely as a courtesy, of course. Warriors needed to remain loose and limber, and there was no substitute for a good massage. He doubted sheād ever actually had one; psychiatric institutions hardly seemed the right setting, and trying to imagine someone with an aversion to touch actually going to a professional for such a thing was absurd at best. So on his way back up, he gently knuckled the same line, pressing at a few of the worst spots and shaking his head. āPerhaps whilst you are overcoming those fears, you should consider taking better care of yourself, lovely. It does not do to take on difficult tasks at less than oneās best, no?ā
It really was odd, for one to have such an aversion to touch, that she would not be bothered by Virgil's touch. Of all people who she wouldn't want touching her, he should be at the top of the list. Yet he was the only one who could touch her. She shivered slightly as he worked out her back. She rolled out her neck then. Perhaps he was right, though really, she couldn't help it most of the time, as stiffness and the tense feeling she had had been bred into her since she was about ten years old.
She exhaled through her nose. "Well, considering you are the only one who can touch me without adverse consequences, what exactly do you suggest then?"
He wondered for just a moment if he should be offended by the question. She was making it so easy for him, really. It wasnāt like he needed such obvious opportunity. Then again, maybe he did, if she hadnāt guessed at the answers heād give already. The expression he gave her was clearly incredulous for just long enough to convey his disbelief that sheād given him such a massive opening, and then his features reassembled themselves into their usual vaguely-sly cast, and he leaned close, pressing with a single digit only against her good shoulder, until she was laying back against the hillside.
Perhaps it was time for a reminder of just what kind of creature he was, if she could so easily forget in such a manner. Mindful of her injury even so, he braced a hand on either side of her head, looming dangerously close, but touching her not at all. āNo adverse consequences?ā he repeated, his voice a sultry purr. āAre you so sure, lovely?ā There it was again, that damnable pull of hers, like she was a magnet and he was made of iron, but he was stronger than that, and so he only suggested, lowering his head to breathe in the smell of her from the spot between her jaw and throat. Her hair was especially fragrant, actuallyāhe rather liked the scent.
From that spot, his next words were barely a murmur. āI know many good ways to ease tension, Keira. You would enjoy each and every one of them, I promise you that.ā He was so tempted to just prove it, too, but it wasnāt enough. Not when, consenting though she would be, she would only resent him for it later, file it away as another unpleasant memory in a litany of them, a trauma to be added to the list. Noāhe would never be satisfied being such a footnote in someoneās life, not when he had committed to the chase. He would see it through, and in the right way. There was just the barest glint of gold to his eye when he smiled, pearlescent canine teeth more prominent than they would be in a human mouth. However docile he might appear to her, he was nothing so tame as a human, and disdained the idea of being thought of as one might think of any other man.
Abruptly, he pushed away, resuming his seat with a truly unfair amount of dignity and grace considering what heād just been doing, the smile receding to the faintest hint of smugness. āBut actually, I was speaking in general terms. One should always be mindful of oneās health. With regards to muscle tension, youāve already used the right idiom. Magic fingers.ā He raised a hand, digits spread, and moved them in a vaguely wavelike fashion. āConveniently, theyāre never cold, either, which makes for effective massages, really. Whether you take advantage of my talents is, of course, entirely up to you.ā He didnāt specify which talents he was talking about, either.
She perhaps should have expected him to reply as such, though still, the strength of his response was much stronger than she expected. Much to her surprise, she felt herself drawn to him, as well. It both terrified and surprised her, and she had no idea what to make of it. She shivered as he smelled her, her physical response not at all what she expected. She wanted to touch him, to bring him closer, to make him give her what he was offering.
That was utterly terrifying. And then, he was gone, and for a long few minutes, she simply lay there, trying to regain control of her body that had seemed to have a mind of its own. Her heart was racing, but it was not quite the adrenaline she was used to. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she sat up, this time scowling. For another few seconds, she didn't say anything, and then finally, she said, "You're an asshole, you know that is not what I meant."
Perhaps it was only Virgil who could find being called an asshole endearing, but he certainly could. Ephraim called him worse things than this several times a day. That it was the most potent insult she could think of in the moment, or the one she felt was appropriate, only managed to make him chuckle. She was quite in denial regarding some things, and it was, dare he say it, cute. He never really enjoyed himself when the pursuit was easy, after all. His sense of smell was far too good to miss the pheromones she was giving off, and besides that, he could hear the beating of her heart if he listened for it.
āThen perhaps, lovely, you should have been more specific. Itās a very valuable skill, to be able to tell someone exactly what it is that you desire.ā As usual, he was talking on several different levels at once, and all of them were quite true. āThough I suspect that in this case, letting me be a bit creative had its benefits as well, hm?ā He smiled that dangerous fox-smile, and then stood, brushing grass gently from his clothing before offering her a hand up.
āI do believe, however, that youāve had rather enough excitement for one night. Shall I take you home?ā Ephraim and Nerys seemed to have wanderedānot that he would have cared if theyād seen any of that. Virgil didnāt have a lot of shame, after all.