figlia_morbida: ([lionheart])
Trish Una ([personal profile] figlia_morbida) wrote2022-08-08 05:05 pm
Entry tags:

Ryslig | IC inbox


WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, TRISH UNA.

FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 867.53.099.99

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<Zigazigah> Don't talk to me.
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Main Username:
< Zigazigah >

Public Appearance UN: < Western_Horizon >

Anon: < sharpdistance > , < kidcharlemagne > (not actually anon now because of Hinata)
digiorno: (♛ ways of choosing)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-02-08 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
[Wherever the nearest chair is, that's what he makes for as soon as the door's closed behind him. He perches on the edge of the seat, one ankle hooked around the back of the chair's front leg, expression alert and curious.]

It's just hard to read people over text, you know? I get confused about sarcasm sometimes, and I offend people. Riley used to get angry with me, back in the beginning.

[And sometimes now. But less.]

The other thing was that I realized we never talked about it. We haven't discussed the two of them at all since July.
digiorno: (♛ i got a million ways of losing)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-02-08 07:02 am (UTC)(link)
[What a strange thing to assume. He's quiet for a moment, pondering, before he decides to err on the side of honesty.]

I won't stop worrying about them until I'm permanently dead, or they are.

[They don't . . . talk about it, the lot of them. How some of those who walk among them are dead, and were murdered by Diavolo with Doppio's support. None of them discuss it, with very rare exceptions. He and Fugo have, a little bit. They've had to, as a consequence of making sure they're on the same page. But the rest of them?]

[No. No, they don't talk about the most personal crimes those men committed. So it's fair that she might not realize. But the second he stops worrying is the second he forgets the value of the people who died for his dream, and he can't do that. He just can't.]


Should I assume you're not? Worried, I mean.
digiorno: icon by me; art by <user name="millionfish" site="tumblr.com"> (♛ to make ends meet)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-02-09 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
. . . Maybe.

[It's hard for him, sometimes, to take the perspectives of others. He can understand what they do and why, but that's different from seeing it entirely from their perspective. He has a great deal of empathy, but only in certain ways. When it comes to this specifically, realizing Trish doesn't consider Diavolo and Doppio a threat — or at least not in the same way — that's strange. That's very, very difficult to reconcile.]

[Already, though, he knows he made the right choice in coming here. It's easier to work through in person.]


But then, you didn't choose to be part of this. I did. I suppose that makes the difference.

[Because he's responsible for this, for those deaths and this ridiculous cycle, and she isn't. She just wanted to survive.]

[He sighs, smoothing down an eyebrow absently with his thumb.]


Do you honestly think Doppio doesn't have anything else to be angry about?
digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ been inside my head)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-02-10 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
[His mind is already barrelling down a track when she drops King Crimson like an anvil and derails it. Wide green eyes blink slowly, owlishly; his lips purse, thoughtful. There's little that compares to King Crimson?]

[Well, he would agree. But Doppio would not. Doppio doesn't see the terror of King Crimson, and that is a major division between them. Perhaps that would be a fitting punishment after all, for Doppio, to feel what they all felt, what Trish felt from King Crimson. In some other world with more opportunities, perhaps that's how he's being punished right now.]


Your perspective, or my perspective, on what our situation is or how much damage they can do here doesn't matter if the reality they perceive is different. The reality they perceived at home was very different, too. Diavolo doesn't have King Crimson here, it's true, but he does have Doppio, without whom I've come to realize he would be entirely helpless. And Doppio . . .

[He's quiet for a moment. When he speaks again, it's with quiet clarity. He's never sounded more certain of anything in his life.]

Doppio is an appendage.

I knew him for eight months before you and Fugo appeared. We worked together for most of that time. He was very close to admitting that he was wrong to participate in what was done to you. I saw in his eyes that he knew it was wrong to involve you when he attacked us on the beach. But with Diavolo here, he throws away the difficult work of thinking, of independent morality. He relinquishes his own free will. He fuses into Diavolo's being, like anglerfish — parasitic symbiosis.

All the work he's done, all the relationships he's built, no longer matter. If Diavolo told him to walk into my place of work and murder Dr. Pierce, he would do so. If Diavolo told him to throw Atem out into the sun, regardless of his kindness, Doppio would do that too. He will actively crush his own thoughts and feelings, and truly convince himself they don't exist, unless Diavolo tells him they do. That is what worries me. The fact that so many people fail to understand that they present the same amount of danger, because they are effectively one and the same.
Edited (wording) 2022-02-10 05:58 (UTC)
digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ show me the world)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-02-11 04:34 pm (UTC)(link)
. . . Why do you assume they're going to rely on logic?

[He's frustrated, very. But the salient feeling right now is confusion, and that's what shows. Her logic is baffling to him. He would be able to grasp it, if not for one thing.]

Diavolo has never once operated from a place of logic since we've known of him. Your involvement in all of this is proof alone. He believed based on no evidence whatsoever that you were a threat to his very life, that you were out to get him, that you wanted what he had, that you even knew who he was. He thought he could outfox the limits of humanity. Even here, he's operated outside of logic.

The man is insane. Why are you ascribing a sane man's notions of reason to him?
digiorno: icon by me; art by pixiv #1073516 (♛ "where the party's at?")

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-02-14 04:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[This, at last, is enough to mollify him.]

[Slightly, anyway. It's logical enough. It still feels like he's missing something, but what she says convinces him that he's just . . . well, struggling to read her, as he ever does. The two of them are the same in that way, all smokescreens. So maybe he just read things wrong. And that's exactly why he came here in the first place: to figure out if he was reading things wrong.]

[So he breathes out slowly through his nose, shoulders relaxing slightly. Then he nods, although not quite in agreement.]


I could nitpick that. But I'll say instead that I understand your logic, although I disagree with it on many counts.

[That Diavolo was not patient. That Doppio is acting recklessly. That silence is not a good sign in the least, not from a man who lived in anonymity for decades. That is what worries him. But—]

I don't think it's inherently, wholly wrong. And I hope that you're right, frankly.

[When he tips his head this time, it's not with the intent to read her, to see her secrets. His expression is beseeching.]

I can't assume them to be a neutralized threat while they're still breathing. Do you understand why?
digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ 'cause that's just fuel for me)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-03-08 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
[Strangely, that admission makes him laugh. It's a soft puff of sound, low and inaudible a few feet from where they're sitting. His smile is crooked and so, so normal, especially considering what he's about to say. But that's the thing. It's all so normal. This is his life. This is how he exists. This is why he exists.]

Good, [he murmurs, leaning forward and ducking his head to look her in the eye, because he needs to — because this is important.] That's good. That's exactly how it should be, Trish.

[And that's exactly why he can't relax. Why he can't make the promise to himself that she's made to herself. He isn't afraid, truly. But he's cautious. He always will be. With one potential exception.]

[If it was only him, Giorno alone with none of his people . . . he wouldn't care. He'd throw the heavy mantle of caution off his shoulders and walk into danger headlong, reckless and wild. But this is where he belongs. This is what keeps him real, and sane, and Giorno.]

[He reaches out and touches the back of her hand, where it covers the scar on her wrist — a layer of protection over layers more. Always a failsafe. Always the first and last line of defense. When he speaks, it's light, airy, like he's discussing a movie, or the pros and cons of different kinds of pizza.]


It's not what they've done but what they could do. I hold it in the front of my mind and in my heart because my job is to keep you safe. All of you. To make a world where the people I love don't have to live in fear. Even if it's this world, even if I have to balance awareness of a thousand threats, I will make it so. It's my job. It's my duty.

[This is how he honors the dead and the living and the missing spirit of home. Even if he has to carry out his duty here, in a place a thousand times more challenging than Napoli, it is the most important thing to him. He'd die for it a thousand times, but he'd fight to stay alive even harder. For them.]
digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ through the mist)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-03-08 07:36 am (UTC)(link)
[It's like a record skipping.]

[Back at the beginning again. He's discomfited. They're not communicating. All of this effort, all of this trying to understand, and she recoils from him. Actively pulls away, like his touch makes her skin crawl. Covers her stomach. Hides her hands. And Giorno sits up, ramrod-straight, mortified and furious at once, not breathing, skin pale, expression drawn.]

[His hands, when they come to rest flat on his knees, are cold and shaking, despite the warmth of sap in his veins, despite the breath of spring on the horizon. He's cold. Not because he's scared. Because he's angry.]

[It's Trish, he reminds himself. It's Trish. She's not doing it on purpose. She's not telling him the same thing she's told him before, the same thing they fought about and resolved before, to upset him on purpose. She's not dismissing what he's telling her out of disrespect. She is not him. They have different perspectives. It's understandable that this would be hard to communicate. It's understandable. Don't be angry. Don't hold onto it. Let it go. Just let go.]

[Just let go. I'm begging you, just let it go, don't hold this in.]

[He doesn't answer her question. Not for a long time. While he doesn't, he's holding his breath. His hands are pressed flat and purposeful against his slacks; even so, his knuckles and nails are so pale they're almost white. He isn't shaking, but only because he's exercising every ounce of his self-control. And then, slowly, he exhales. Through his teeth. Bit by bit. And breathes in again.]

[It's just Trish. It's just Trish. She doesn't mean it like that. — Fugo understands. He would never say something like — Not the same. Don't. Don't do it. Breathe. It's Trish.]

[When he finally speaks, his voice is even and conversational.]


Please don't think I forgot what we talked about when Steve was dead, or that I haven't taken it to heart. I can promise you I have. I've changed my behavior. I'm holding myself accountable. But I need you to understand something.

[Another breath in, another out. He flexes his fingers, stretching them wide, before dropping both hands loose between his knees. He looks at her, but he doesn't demand her attention the way he did before. Not this time. Not after that reaction.]

This is what I chose for myself. I chose this responsibility actively and deliberately. This is who I am and exactly who I want to be. We're in Ryslig, and that does not change my role, not really. Not when it comes to this. Not when everyone I love is here with me. I am going to make things better. I am going to keep my people safe. I'm not sure how to reconcile your reaction, because what you're reacting to is just—

[His breath catches. Draws back in on a sharp inhale that hurts his chest. And out through his teeth.]

Me.
digiorno: icon by me! art credit? (♛ without a sound)

oof with reverb

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-03-09 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[Giorno is trying, but anger has neatly cut his Achilles tendon. As much as he strains, he can only stay in place at best, not move forward, not understand better. No matter how much he tries to hear her objectively, his heart doesn't open. He tries to give her the benefit of the doubt, and he can't, because—]

[Because after everything, something about his most intrinsic and true self, who he was and what he has formed himself into, disgusts her. Because no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that she has been honest with him, something still feels wrong.]

[She says it has nothing to do with you, and his eyes narrow. In his head, softly: She's lying. Which follows in turn in response to the gratitude. Why would she be grateful to him if his purpose makes her recoil? Why would she express gratitude now of all times, when that's not what he's ever cared about, as though it's supposed to mollify him?]

[He thinks about telling her to her face that she's lying. He thinks about smiling and expressing gratitude in return and leaving. But she wouldn't let him. She won't let him lie, and she doesn't want to hear the truth. What does that leave him?]

[He sits back, ultimately, hooks his ankles on the bar under his seat and sighs. The change in position helps release some tension, although not much.]


Well. I'm sorry, in that case, to have reminded you, right after you said you're tired of living in fear. That was careless of me. I'll choose my words more carefully next time.

[And that's all. He doesn't know what else to say. He's tired. It's taking all of his efforts to be true to himself right now, to the person he wants to be, to not cause irreparable damage to their relationship with any of the ugly words waving knives on the tip of his tongue.]
digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ fragments of stillness)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-03-11 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
[And despite everything, something about the way she phrases that sticks. Something about it neatly sidesteps the anger and hooks into his curiosity, coaxing him forward through the clouds of indignant pride and making him look. Really look.]

[I don't want you to worry for me.]

[But he worries for everyone. He worries about everyone.]

[I don't want you to worry for me.]

[But that's the whole point.]

[I don't want you to worry for me]

[Worry instead of her. Take the worry from and remove her from the equation entirely. Erase her. That . . . he almost understands. Almost. But he tips his head to one side all the same, frowning. Trying to make it make sense.]


. . . That's what I want to do for everyone. [No, not quite.] That's what I'm meant to do for everyone. The people I love and the people I don't know. To fix those things . . . that hang over our lives from birth to death, so we don't have to live haunted and hunted by them.

But not for you. You don't want that from me.

[So much so that her body curled in on itself. That she didn't want to be near him. That's the beginning and the end of what he has to give, and she doesn't want it.]

[That's got everything to do with him. She's wrong. But he doesn't want to fight, either. He'd rather just leave. He'd rather disappear from her sight than belabor the point any further. What he needs now, more than anything, is confirmation. The clink of bars into place, the turn of a key. The end of a story.]
digiorno: (♛ i am sharper than a switchblade)

hueuuughghnng

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-03-12 07:36 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not taking anything from you, you're trying to take from me!

[The words come out faster than he can stop them, hands curling into fists on his knees as the anger bursts back into full bloom.]

We keep having the same conversation. I'm honest with you, you don't like it, we don't talk, I tell you more, we make up. And I try to meet your expectations and I try to do what you ask me to do — which I have been doing, Trish, I listen every time. But it's not enough, because you think I'm someone I'm not. You've come up with some version of me in your head that isn't real, that's close to me but not quite, and every time I don't adhere to it you recoil from me.

You tell me you've failed because I talk about your safety and security being my responsibility? How could you possibly see it as that cut and dry? I've asked you for help I don't know how many times, and you've given it, but the second I'm honest about what it is I'm carrying it's your failure? I'm responsible for everyone's well-being. Everyone's. The fact that I want you to be able to someday exist without fear doesn't make you unique! You and Fugo and Steve and Reira and everyone, they're exactly the same. From the beginning, that's what I've wanted. To heal our home from the ground up. To make it safe. I got people killed for that dream. And now I can't be home, so I want to do it here. I want to do the absolute best I can.

I've been trying so hard to balance everything. Stepping back enough to give you space, asking for help when I need it, not making assumptions, being honest with you about everything, from the details to the bigger picture. But you don't really want me to be honest, do you? Because honestly, you can be my closest confidant in the world, the person I trust most of anyone, and I'll still want better for you. I'll still see ways I can improve the world so things hurt less for you. I'm not acting this way because it's you. I'm acting this way because this is who I am. If you can't accept that, then just say so.
digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ only i get to be)

[personal profile] digiorno 2022-03-14 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
[He stops listening after the first few sentences. By then, she's already proven that, as much as she says she knows, she doesn't understand a damn thing.]

[He retreats into coolness as she continues speaking, his mouth a thin, brutal line that does not open to interrupt. He never does. He's used to not being listened to. That's why he hates repeating himself. He hates explaining the same thing twice. Because if he has to, it's proof that the person wasn't listening the first time. Yet more evidence that they don't care.]

[When she's done, he nods. Crisp.]


You're wrong. I was not referring to the "invisible, untouchable boy". But what you've said has provided some clarity.

[That Trish does not understand, and perhaps can't understand; or maybe she's making the choice not to see it. Whichever is the truth, he's abruptly done explaining himself. She can figure it out, or not. And whatever it is she's talking around, it will come out in the wash eventually.]

. . . So thank you for that.

[He never wanted to see her as someone he couldn't trust, but he has no other way of interpreting this conversation. He's missing a piece, one that Trish is holding. The picture is obscured.]

[Standing up, he turns and ghosts out the door without another word.]
Edited 2022-03-14 01:03 (UTC)