figlia_morbida | Ryslig

[ ever since that night, his sleep has been fitful, as if his body decided from then on that it had to be ready for an attack at any moment - something that's served him well as often as it's exhausted him. In this moment, he's thankful for it, because it means the sound of rustling sheets and a low, tired voice are enough to jolt him out of the sleep he's falling into. As much as he might have appreciated the rest, he appreciates the groggy sound of Trish saying his name much more. ]

-- Trish?

[ at once, he sets a paw on the edge of the bed and leans forward, and, perhaps, looks a little more desperate than he'd prefer, but he's more focused on Trish, and hopefully, she's too drowsy to notice. All the sleep deprivation could be driving him to hallucinate, but he trusts his ears. Optimism is ever his ally. ]

Trish, can you hear me?

[ her question goes unanswered, partially because he doesn't know, but mostly because he's more worried for her health. ]

[Fortunately for Bruno, her eyes have been closed so long it will take a good few minutes for her to open them properly. She can hardly squint with how dry they are, and how bright it is in here, even with the typically low lighting and scant lamps.

Bruno is treated to a a rather scrunched up pink and white face, then, as Trish abruptly yawns and stretches her limbs, which are surprisingly limber for how long she's been asleep, but she has moved here and there over the past few weeks. There's a reason bears don't get bedsores!

Anyways, Trish confirms he's not hallucinating, because she speaks yet again! Even if her words are halting and slow.]

Mm? Why wouldn't I be able to hear you...?

[Was she sleeping that hard?

Well, she was pretty tired...but still. Her ears are working just fine! Unlike his, apparently, since he didn't answer her question. She thinks her curtains must be drawn, however, because of how dim the room is. The fact she's a bear at the moment, meanwhile, does not tell her one way or another if it's night or day anymore – especially on fog days – so that metric is out. It's frustrating, because if the sun is out she'd very much like to see it so she can be her best self, thanks!

As such, she has the capacity to sound like her usual grumpy self despite how soft her voice is, thick with sleep and terribly dry when she says:]

You're acting strange, Bucciarati.

[It's very clear Trish has no clue she's been out for the better part of the month. As if no time has passed for her at all, and why would it? Sleep is the next best skip button after King Crimson.]

Edited (whoops, forgot she hasnt seen bearno yet) 2022-02-03 09:09 (UTC)

[ at that, he puffs out a breath, disbelieving. ]

I don't need to hear that from you.

[ it's obvious she has no idea that anything's happened, which is frustrating, but more than that, it's a relief. She doesn't seem like she's in pain, if nothing else, and he's grateful for that. Whether there are symptoms he hasn't seen yet, he doesn't know, but she's breathing and talking and she remembers his name. With the state Giorno's in, that alone is enough for Bruno. ]

You've been asleep for weeks, Trish. Fugo and I have been trying to find out what happened to you. [ as always, he's straightforward and businesslike. Still, a bit of concern creeps into his voice, and he leans in more, peering at her face. Eyes still closed... ] How are you feeling?

[ the dim lighting has Bruno looking a bit hairier than usual, so to speak, but he's avoided the full transformation. Possibly because he didn't decide to hibernate. ]

[Wow, it's not like she decided to hibernate herself! It's a rather weak approximation of it, really, and some could speculate her awful schedule and continuing hesitation to eat more than the barest amounts of human flesh contributed to it.

Anyways, Trish's short ears flick as she listens, and she is...deeply confused.

Weeks? Did he say weeks? She's heard of other monsters falling asleep for up to months at a time, supposedly, but she never pictured it happening to her. It was a pointless thing, with no explanation, and she wouldn't simply let it happen – would she?

The closer he leans the more her nose twitches, her nares reacclimating to familiar smells. Or rather, remembering what names to put to them in the fringes of her memory. This is Bucciarati for sure...

She endeavors to open her eyes again, and it's only a minor improvement, but it's at least a little clearer now that she's squinting at him. Bruno is a hairy blob of a silhouette, meanwhile, steadily improving in focus.]

I'm...fine. Should I not feel fine?

[Did something happen to her that she's not aware of? Bruno makes it sound like they were investigating on her behalf, but there's no pain she can feel, no nausea, nothing. Nothing except the fact she's very thirsty, but that's not wholly unusual.

She reaches to put a paw on her own head, but the motion is painless. No head injury, then. Actually, a monster being taken out by a head injury for possibly weeks would be dumb.

Her paw slides off her head.]

[ what a question. Bruno makes a small, discontented noise in return. ]

Healthy people don't sleep for weeks.

[ or, at least, healthy humans don't. Do bears hibernate? It's not like there are a lot of them roaming around urban Italy - he doesn't know. Maybe that's what happened. It's as likely as her getting hit by any other new and bizarre misfortune in this place.

Either way: she's fine. That's what really matters. He shakes his head gently, as if reorienting himself. The answers will come, one way or another; for now, what matters is Trish herself. ]

We can worry about it later. What's important is that you're not in pain, and that you're awake... Finally.

[ a quiet exhale, gazing at the burnt-out beast in front of him. This creature is hardly the haughty, elegant girl he knows; he wouldn't recognize her if he didn't know the truth from the start. But it is Trish. And he feels the same quiet resolution to protect her now, in this massive shape that is not her own, as he does when she barely reaches his shoulder. Thank God. Thank God that she's not dead, taken by some mystery sleeping sickness that he was absolutely helpless to fight against, after everything. ]

We were beginning to worry.

[ she may not be able to see him, but maybe she can hear in his voice that he's smiling a little; certainly, she might feel him briefly extending a claw to brush her hair (or the tuft of fur on her head resembling it) from her eyes, just barely. ]

[It's finally starting to catch up to her sleep-addled mind that Bruno was well and truly scared for her.

Worry and fear are the same, ultimately, linked by close threads.

That's what's impressed upon her by his gentle touch and voice, and she's quiet again for a stretch. Which is hopefully not concerning to him, as her breathing is still at a steady, quicker rhythm than the incredibly sporadic breaths she took while asleep.

She's...pretty sure they've been worried for awhile, if it really has been weeks, because sleeping more than a day is already concerning. But weeks? Which is frustrating to think about, because she's been trying to do more, to make them worry less, only to abruptly be cut off by whatever happened to reduce her to this.

Instead of answering, she huffs, and tries to lift her head. It's not a quick affair, because of everything, it's her head and eyes that feel the heaviest – so she mostly succeeds in moving just enough to tuck a paw under her chin.]

I'm not...I don't think I was sick. Even now, I'm just...really drowsy.

[She blinks through bleary eyes. The squinting is improving, so Bruno can see more of the green of her irises and less of the black of her lashes.

Part of her wants to apologize, although that seems silly when she hasn't done anything. But more than that, she wants to reassure him.]

But I can move just fine. Give me a bit and I can get up and prove it.

[She's starting to sound much better too, in fact, if that assertion is anything to go by!]

[ at that, he's quick to shake his head, almost instinctively. ]

Don't exert yourself. We still don't know what the issue is.

[ if it is some kind of illness or poisoning or something, he doesn't want her to exacerbate it by suddenly moving about. Luckily, it's obvious she's going nowhere fast at this rate. He retracts his hand as soon as she starts moving her head again, letting his paw rest on the sheets. ]

Are you thirsty?

[ His worry remains, but it's dissipating to something more normal for Bucciarati - the sort of responsible concern he always shows when one of his own isn't quite themselves. She never seemed to touch anything they left out for her; she must be parched, if nothing else. If she's not, he imagines she will be shortly, whenever her body catches up to her mind's level of wakefulness. ]

If there were an issue, I don't think I'd have woken up on my own...

[Trish grouses.

Isn't that how it goes, though? Usually there's some sort of solution to be found, some cure or magical prince.

But her body deemed it was time to wake, and that's it. Very belatedly, sure, but she distinctly does not remember eating anything strange, or meeting a questionable person who might've done something to her. She came home specifically because it's a safe place, she remembers, and laid down to sleep. Although maybe it's folly to rely on vague memories, but she's already screwed up badly once and she wasn't about to make a huge misstep in front of him again.

As for his question, she thinks about it. Yeah, she is, but she makes a face at the thought of Bruno giving it to her when she can hardly move at the moment. That would make her feel like a little bambina all over again, and she's too old for that!

Though, his silhouette is small, isn't it? She huffs a breath, croaking out:]

It's daytime, isn't it? Open my curtains.

[Because it'll be so much easier to drink and move around when she's not trying to do it with this ungainly ass body.]

[ your magical prince is here, Trish...

her logic regarding waking up and being healed is extremely questionable, but he won't fight her on it - it doesn't really matter, and Bucciarati isn't eager to keep her bedridden after she's been laying there for weeks. Still. He wonders if there's a doctor who might be able to look at her. Someone they could trust. Giorno might know... but Giorno's not around, either.

Gently, he dismisses the reminder from his mind, choosing to focus on the positive for now: Trish is back. Feeling well enough to boss him around, too, in just the way that none of the others would ever dare. It's almost charming. Almost. But she's sick, so he'll relent. There's a low rumble in the back of his throat that's probably a slightly ursine hum of displeasure; nonetheless, he leans back in his chair, stretching out one long arm to pull back a drape. ]

You didn't answer my question. [ a beat. ] Fugo bought the brand of mineral water you like. I'll bring you a bottle.

[ apparently, he'll make the decision for her if she doesn't. ]

You've already answered for me, haven't you?

[There's no single logic to it anyway. She simply wants to be up to prove she's okay!

Because she's not in pain, or nauseous, or anything like that. And the idea of worrying any of them any longer when she feels fine is simply unacceptable.

So if Bruno is annoyed, she doesn't register it, waiting for the room to brighten because the moment it does, she's going to change. Which means it's going to be very painful, and she sucks in a breath at the sound of the curtains sliding on the metal rod as Bruno sweeps them aside.

It's always a drastic change, considering she grows to twice her size, and now she has to shrink that same amount. It happens quickly, but she doesn't often transform in front of other people, whether it's into her bear form or back to her more human shape, but she decides it'll be worth it. There's always a rush of adrenaline before the crash in energy that follows, and she assumes that will fix this drowsiness.

The bear gnashes her teeth when light filters over her form, and in that instant there is a deep groan of pain as her body folds in on itself. It's almost hard to tell what's going on until the familiar silhouette of Trish replaces the bear, and she rolls over onto her back with a gasp. To her credit, it's the most she's managed so far. Bruno can see her eyes are wide open, especially when she looks to him. Very defiant for a girl splayed out like a star fish.]

See? I'm...I'm fine.

[Sore now, but awake, damn it!]

That's a "yes," then.

[ fortunately, he's used to dealing with fussy teens who are resistant to being taken care of (Fugo), so he takes it all in stride - something even easier to do when he's simply happy she's not dead, besides. She sounds so normal that he almost forgets she's about to shift when he opens the curtain. For Bruno, who'd been staying illuminated by the dim lighting in the room as best he could already, it simply makes the extra fur that had been creeping up past the perimeter of his suit and around his cheekbones vanish again. For Trish, though - well. She's gone all the way from bear to girl again. Fortunately, she's still clothed, unlike he usually is. Still, Bucciarati is suddenly aware that she probably doesn't like doing something so vulnerable in front of people. She's that type.

He meets her defiant gaze for a brief moment, then looks away again, near-politely, reaching one big paw out for the doorknob again. ]

... Don't hurt yourself, Trish. [ in other words: yes, you are awake, good job, now please stay that way. ] And don't fall asleep again before I come back.

[Oh, she absolutely hates transforming in front of people. But it's either that or let Bruno keep fussing, and she can stand that even less when she's supposed to be strong and independent in front of him.

Transforming is vulnerable in so many senses too – the world disappears into a blur of pain, and she's always afraid it won't end...but it does.

Her low heart rate and blood pressure from being asleep for so long seems remedied at least, as the rush of adrenaline gets her blood moving again. Something tells her whatever sleep she fell into was a little scuffed, because not even on her worst days as a human did she struggle this much. But she's determined to get out of bed and stand for when Bruno comes back, watching him go with a small huff.

She emphatically does not accomplish her goal.

Well, she manages to stand, but the sudden change in blood pressure makes her dizzy immediately, and she ends up sitting on the floor and very confused about it. Bears are not immune to orthostatic hypotension.

When Bruno comes back, she's still there, but she is awake. That counts for something, right?]

...I think I'm dehydrated.

[This is the smallest, tiniest way of admitting that maybe...she should have waited for him.]

[ obviously, it takes him all of three minutes to go downstairs, retrieve a drink from the fridge, and come back up; even so, the entire time, he feels like he's taking too long. Perhaps he should have called Fugo so that one of them could stand by and keep an eye on her. If Trish came to and then blacked out again because he decided to leave and fetch her water, he'd be pissed at himself. (Trish would undoubtedly hate to be so monitored by the two of them in her just-woken-up rumpled state and in the privacy of her room, no doubt, but Bucciarati considers this only for a moment before tossing it aside. Her health is more important!)

Luckily, though, when he pushes the door open again, Trish is still lucid, even if she is sitting on the floor for some reason. This situation puzzles him briefly, which shows on his expression, but he disregards it after a second, kneeling down to hand her the water. ]

Probably.

[ it is, indeed, the fancy brand of mineral water she likes, and it even has a note on it in Fugo's handwriting telling other people not to drink it. He stays where he's squatting after handing it to her, watching her as if the cause of her sudden sleep might now have become obvious. (It's not.) ]

[It feels like a long time, for her part. She stares at the slightly ajar door, waiting for Bruno's hairy form to reappear, all while feeling exhausted from sleeping.

Genuinely, the worst feeling in the world.

Thankfully, sitting on the floor actually encourages her to withstand the grogginess. Mostly because falling asleep on the floor is far more humiliating than being in a coma, in her teenager mind.

At least he doesn't say anything about her sitting on the floor, and he has water. She recognizes the familiar sweep of Fugo's handwriting, too, ever particular in making sure her things are labeled and in their proper place. She accepts it with zero hesitation, popping it open effortlessly and chugging it in the least graceful manner she's capable of. She had no idea it was possible to be this thirsty, and she'll finish the whole thing in no time at all.

Although...she is very aware of Bruno watching her as she takes one last gulp, slowly lowering the bottle once it's empty and returning his gaze, as if she can make him feel as awkward as she suddenly does.]

...You're staring.

[Stop that!!!]

[ it is actually shockingly undignified for Trish, which might also be a component in his staring. As he thought, she's acting tough, but she's likely not feeling all that great in reality. Anyone would be thirsty and disoriented after sleeping for that long. The fact remains, however, that he has no idea what did this to her. As far as he can tell, this affliction hasn't befallen any other monsters, nor any townspeople. Some kind of illness only werebears can contract? But he's felt fine, for the most part...

He doesn't realize he's staring until she calls him out on it, at which point he sighs and bows his head, shutting his eyes briefly before glancing off to the side. ]

It's good that you're back, but not knowing what did this is frustrating.

[ since he doubts she's going to get up and walk around anytime soon, Bruno takes a seat on the floor, himself. ]

Keeping you safe is a priority for me. If there's something out here posing a threat to your life, then I need to identify it.

[It is, and she will be mortified about it later, but there's no time to think on that when she's being mortified over Bruno's staring instead.

Which he thankfully stops doing, and she huffs at him for good measure, as if to communicate the bear equivalent of "and stay out!". But he's sitting with her, and something about that...she knows Bruno has always been kind to her, but she didn't imagine he'd join her on the floor. It's not dignified, but Bruno seems to care about decorum until it stops being important, like now.

Just like that, some of the bluster evaporates off her shoulders.

More so when he makes that declaration, and she turns her own gaze to the side, clearly embarrassed.]

Well, staring at me isn't going to make it any clearer. Whatever happened isn't written on my face.

[There's no real bite to these comments. In fact, she sounds a similar kind of frustrated.]

But I don't think I'm in danger. Dying in my sleep would have been far too kind for this world.

I don't see the kindness in it.

[ she's not some sickly old woman or battle-scarred veteran - she's not even a bear, not really. She's just a normal teenage girl. There's no universe where he can accept that a peaceful death at fifteen would be kind to her. Bruno can hardly blame her for being so cynical, considering all that's happened to her; he also can't agree. His stubborn belief that she deserves better is what got both of them this far, and it seems it's not going away anytime soon. ]

If you don't think you're in danger for the moment, I'll believe you. But I'm keeping an eye on you for a while.

[ ... metaphorically. He's ceased his staring, and has politely-for-real-this-time directed his gaze towards the window and the sun shining through it. At least he's not so dense that he couldn't pick up on her embarrassment. ]

Maybe some research on our condition is in order.

[That's the one thing that will ever be constant with Bruno. His unshakable belief in what's right, and in justice for the people who won't see it unless they reach for that justice with their own two hands, or if they can't...that he does it for them.

Trish doesn't say anything further, as bitter as she is, because Bruno is already worried, and speaking casually about dying probably won't do a damn thing to assuage that. It's not like she wants to either, but if the fog god decided she wasn't worth keeping around, what would stop her from letting his pink charge slip away, you know?

She watches him out of the corner of her eye, and when he looks away properly she lets her gaze slide back to study him, since she's the only one allowed to stare, apparently. She finds he's the same Bruno as always in the way he holds himself, although it's impossible to ignore the ursine features and his hand-paws, which are larger and more animal than hers even in the bright sun. She scoots back to lean against her bed, resting her hands in her lap.]

By "our condition", do you mean the fact we're both werebears? Because I doubt this is related.

[She believes in her shitty luck more than anything else. And if she's unsurprised by his insistence in watching her, he's likely unsurprised by her complaints.]

You're not going to linger in here all day, are you?

[Worse, if he makes shifts out of it between him and Fugo, she may perish from embarrassment!]

[ she's not wrong; it probably isn't related, seeing as he lives in the same house as her and has been completely fine. But he needs to start somewhere, and all the research he's managed has only shown him that it's not some curse from the "gods" nor some sleeping sickness affecting the city. That means it's probably some more specific quality about Trish. Since she never had any problems like this before (based on what he knows of her life in Italy, anyway), his next guess would be that it's related to something that happened to her here, and there is one singular, obvious change to consider.

It's pointless to bicker over it, however, especially because he's going to do it regardless of what Trish thinks. (Sorry, Trish.) Her following complaint draws his gaze back to her. ]

Are you planning to?

[ it's not clear if this is a "yes" or not, and, as usual, his expression gives very little away, although the slight tilt of his head might. ]

[Trish has heard of people occasionally going into comas...but they all usually wind up in the graveyard when they awake from their "nap". But she's been here the whole time, asleep and not much worse for wear. And distinctly not covered in dirt, so it's not like anyone had to go unearthing her before dragging her back home.

She gets why Bruno is worried then, but the last thing she wants is to hold so much of his attention when he's given her that and so much more already. She would physically fight a virus and God if it meant Bruno Bucciarati wouldn't have to worry about her anymore.

Trish plants both of her hands on the floor, then, and meets the tilts of his head with a posture that is very much a challenge from the smaller werebear as she leans forward and hisses:]

You are not following me around outside of my room either.

[Absolutely not! It would be mortifying.

But she's the one sitting on the floor and complaining while he's in good shape, so what can she do to stop him, really? Of course, she has no idea he might also be worried because of what happened with the doubles. Something she knows nothing about. Hell, maybe she was asleep because one tried to poison her, since few of them were strong enough to fight a bear one on one.]

Ryslig | IC inbox

it dont MATTER

wehs!!!!!!

no subject

bats this back like im a cat

[gets hit in the face]

:3

no subject

no subject

no subject

prince bucci....im sorry ur dotter is like this

it's part of her charm

its true. bruno likes fussy teens he has so many fussy teens

he's basically a fussy teen himself it's fine

he sees himself in everyone....softe

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Bruno: i shan't fight / Trish: [rolling up her sleeves anyway]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, TRISH UNA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 867.53.099.99 * Zigazigah has joined 867.53.099.99 <Zigazigah> Don't talk to me. <Zigazigah>** Thanks.