The golden breeze of the endless plain gently faded around them as Celeste rose from the small white table. The movement was simple, delicate, almost too human for an entity whose existence transcended basic concepts of reality. Yet, the instant she stood, space itself seemed to subtly rearrange itself around her presence, as if all of creation unconsciously adjusted its posture before her.
Vergil watched this silently as he put his hands in the pockets of his dark blue coat. The conversation had left his mind dangerously full of thoughts he didn't yet know exactly how to process. Destiny. Red threads. Lucy. Samael. Soul contracts. Hope.
It was too much information for a single day.
And, strangely…
He wasn't annoyed enough about it.
Celeste gave him a small, amused glance, clearly perceiving her grandson's mental state without any difficulty.
"You're overthinking again."
Vergil sighed through his nose.
"Today was a conceptually exhausting day."
