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Snippet #2490441

located in The Wheel of Life, a part of Apotheosis of the Condemned, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Wheel of Life

None

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Character Portrait: Virgil Solomon
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The place had hardly changed at all.

The faces, or at least some of them had altered a bitā€”perhaps a few of those that were children when he left were grown now, but his people did not age beyond a certain point, and the royals did not die, and so other than this, some new kits, and a few mated pairs that had not existed when last he was present, basically everything was the same. It even smelled the same way. It was autumn now, so the scents from the gardens were largely of maturing fruits and suchlike, and of course the castle itself still smelled like wood and incense, and the unique bouquets or its residents, no few of whom he passed on his way to the Lordā€™s quarters. That was unsurprisingā€”to half of them, he was a myth, a figure told of but never seen. To the other half, he was a ghost, a figment of the past, be that one well or ill remembered. A hero or a villain, prodigal or pariah, it was always difficult to know, and frankly, he cared little.

This place was his home no longer, and this visit was therefore not a homecoming.

The rice-paper doors that led to his fatherā€™s study were closed, and the servant leading him knelt, announcing their presence and sliding aside the screen when assent was murmured from within. Virgil did not have any care to see his father, but propriety must needs be observed in situations like this, and he was imposing on the manā€™s good graces, such as they were. His father would give him what he wanted, for the sake of honor and not love. But then, Virgil didnā€™t love him all that much either, so perhaps they were simply just as bad as each other. Mariko had told him as much once, had she not? That dream seemed at once so far away and so imminent, as though it walked with him when he crossed the threshold, bowing slightly before he sat, though in the manner of one equal addressing another, not as son to father.

ā€œAkihiko.ā€

Virgil grimaced at the use of what was in truth his given name, but a coy smile soon replaced it. ā€œMichio.ā€ He settled onto the cushion on the opposite side of the low table from the stately-looking lord. Partially a faƧade, to be certain; he was just as inclined to deception and mischief as any of his kind, but age had tempered him somewhat. His father was even older than Ephraim, perhaps two human millennia stood between now and the day of his birth so long ago. Heā€™d held this post since his fatherā€™s death in war about seven hundred years previous. His older brother still served Inari as far as anyone knew, but like most of those she took, he was never seen again. Virgil was the singular exception to that rule.

ā€œIt has been long since you were last here. I infer from the presence of yourā€¦ guests that you have not returned to take up your duty.ā€ His fatherā€™s tone was dry, but there was a cunning sharpness in his eyes, another trait of the royals alone. Other kitsune had eyes of amber or occasionally citrine, but gold was a color of the high-blooded only.

Virgilā€™s smile grew wider. ā€œAlas, no. Iā€™m afraid Seiji will be taking up the post heā€™s always wanted, when the time comes; we both know Iā€™ve no interest in it.ā€ It was something of a sore point with his brother, that Virgil was still there, a not-quite-threat to his position as heir. It seemed that no matter how many times he made it clear that he didnā€™t want anything to do with any of this, his father was still wont to insist. Why, he had no ideaā€”it wasnā€™t like heā€™d make a good leader, in particular. Seiji was much more suited for it, considering how badly he wanted it. Back in their younger days, Virgil had always wondered if his younger brother might not attempt to off their father just to have that power. Apparently, he had not yet attempted itā€¦ or at least not yet succeeded.

Michio sighed, his aristocratic features turning down into a resigned frown. It was well known to him that when his eldest smiled like that, he was not to be dissuaded. The expression was not one of friendliness in the slightest, and the Lord had long since given up on trying to make him do anything. Though powerful among his kind, he was only seven-tailed, and even two made a serious difference. ā€œWar is coming, son, and this realm will not be spared. Youā€™re as selfish as youā€™ve ever been, but I thought at least you would not want all of us to fall with it.ā€

ā€œOh, donā€™t be so dramatic, father. War or no war, youā€™re hardly helpless without me. And I am selfish, so Iā€™m afraid that until it concerns me, I care not at all.ā€ Not quite true, anymore, but one did not reveal oneā€™s weaknesses to a man like his father unless one wanted them to be ruthlessly exploited. Let him draw his own conclusions about what Ephraim and Nerys were to him. He was unlikely to get it right, considering what he knew of Virgilā€™s natureā€¦ or what his nature had been several hundred years previous.

ā€œWhat do you want, then?ā€ Michio said irritably, not particularly happy to have his concerns dismissed in such a willful fashion.

Now they were getting somewhere. ā€œNot much, from you,ā€ Virgil said, unable to resist the verbal jab. ā€œBenihime is in Yokaino. I intend to find her, and then I will take back what is mine. In the meantime, I will base my operations here. Think of it as eliminating a possible foe in this war before it even begins, if it placates you. Put up myself and the others, and do warn the young ones that the Houndā€™s bite is much worse than his bark.ā€ Virgil shrugged. ā€œUnless of course you donā€™t want them around anymore, in which case feel free to let them do as they please. Itā€™s been a week at least since Ephraimā€™s killed anythingā€”Iā€™m sure heā€™s getting antsy by this point.ā€

Michioā€™s frown deepened; demons did not have the same revulsion for the Hellhound as gods and creatures like the kirin tended to, but that didnā€™t mean they were entirely comfortable with his presence. Most demon hierarchies were determined by a combination of strength and witā€”meaning that someone that strong was a serious threat, should he choose to be. Fortunately, heā€™d never shown any interest in such things. Benihime, on the other hand.

ā€œVery well,ā€ the Lord of Yokai consented. ā€œYou may stay for as long as you need, and help yourself to the armory and supplies. As long as the bitch dies at the end.ā€ the upstart half-oni liked to think she could seize power by holding his sonā€™s soul captive? Mightier than she had tried to keep hold of it, and even Inari had not succeeded. Michio would never say so, but he was exceedingly proud of Virgil for this. It was one of many reasons why he wanted the fool child to assume his rightful station as heir. But perhaps if he were to stay long enough, he would remember what it was like to walk among his own kind, and in remembering, find the desire to stay. It wasnā€™t likely, but it was the best chance he had, for now.

Virgilā€™s grin stretched wider. ā€œThat, dear father, was a foregone conclusion.ā€