The wind continued to blow gently across the golden plain as a strangely comfortable silence hung between them. The white tablecloth rippled delicately in the warm breeze, and small, luminous petals drifted slowly, almost lazily, through the air. Vergil remained seated before Celeste, his posture relaxed only superficially. Beneath the apparent tranquility, his mind still raced, organizing questions, possibilities, and worries he didn't quite know how to verbalize.
Celeste observed all of this with absolute clarity.
Naturally.
She took another small sip of tea as her golden eyes rested calmly on her grandson. There was no intrusion in her gaze. No pressure. Just genuine attention. The kind of attention that seemed to pierce through thoughts without forcing them.
Vergil sighed slowly through his nose before finally speaking.
