Trish Una (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
figlia_morbida) wrote2022-08-08 05:05 pm
figlia_morbida) wrote2022-08-08 05:05 pm
Ryslig | IC inbox
Main Username: < Zigazigah >
Public Appearance UN: < Western_Horizon >
Anon: < sharpdistance > , < kidcharlemagne > (not actually anon now because of Hinata)
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But the boy Donatella knew and the man Trish met were utterly different. As if Solido Naso had been another person entirely. As if Diavolo had excised what little good there was to find in him with nigh surgical precision. Sure, people change, but this is too hard to reconcile.
So Doppio's comment doesn't bother her. After all, he was of one mind in sharing details about the boss, in that he didn't want to tell and she didn't want to listen. But now he's talking; and now, she's thinking. She conjures in her mind the moment this picture was taken, with her mother draping her arms on the stone fixture, and Diavolo behind the camera, taking it because...
Because...
Trish doesn't chide Doppio. Her thumb traces the frame of the photo.]
He took it for her because she asked.
[Abruptly, Trish's voice takes on the echo of a cheery lilt as she continues:]
"I handed him my camera, practically begging him to take one picture. Just one! I wanted to remember Sardinia forever." That's what she said every time she talked about this photo.
[Trish looks in Doppio's direction then, but her gaze is somewhere past him, hazy.]
I've often wondered why he agreed. Maybe he didn't think she would remember him. Unfortunately for him, I was there to remind her every day, wasn't I?
[So, she disagrees. Diavolo is perfectly capable of mistakes and regrets, just like any other person alive, despite how highly Doppio thinks of him.]
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Trish's mother asked. Somehow, that doesn't surprise him. It surprises him more to hear that Donatella Una talked about this enough for Trish to recite her words. For fifteen years - it must have been fifteen; Trish is living proof of it - that woman longed for the man behind the camera, and spoke of him, and Trish-- did Trish ask? Was she ever curious? When they talked about the Boss - the Boss before he was the Boss - was Donatella fueled by Trish's need to know more?
For fifteen years, this... happened, in some shape or form, and for fifteen years... The Boss did nothing about it.
Did he take the picture just to appease Trish's mother, or did he want her to have a memento? Doppio gets the impression that the answer to that question dictates why the Boss did nothing about it for so long.
He also gets the impression that he should not be talking about this. He shouldn't even be thinking about it.
Doppio feels...
The strangest urge to apologise.]
Um...
[It's disorienting enough that he needs a moment to find his train of thought again.]
Does... Does it bug you that he took the picture? I mean, is it... awkward now?
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Because it's really no surprise that Sardinia and her father were a common topic. Was Trish curious? Not at first. Not until she realized lots of kids happened to have fathers and mysteriously, hers was absent! It didn't bother her, since she couldn't miss what she never had, but it was a curious thing.
Are dads important? Do I even have one? Where did he go? What did he look like? Was he pretty or ugly?
All very pertinent questions. And Trish remembers these questions, if only because Donatella laughed so very much over her daughter's blunt attitude and was happy to poke fun at her when she was old enough to be embarrassed about it.
But that's about as far as Trish's concern went. However, she knew how wistful her mother was over the man who vanished – leaving nothing behind except his name and a daughter who looked so much like him. How could she ever forget?
Sardinia was a fond story because there were no regrets, ultimately. Even if her mother's fate was unkind, it wasn't nearly as cruel as it could have been if she had been inclined to pursue the name of Solido Naso sooner.
So Doppio's question has an easy answer, and Trish's eyes regain their focus, glinting green.]
No.
[Curt, but not unkind.]
I'll admit the context behind it is very different now, but I will always associate it with her and not him. He can't erase that.
[It's simple, you know? The two months of hell she endured feel small compared to the fifteen years she was happy at home, with a mother who not once ever made her feel unwanted.]
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The thought hits Doppio and the reasoning only follows moments later. He's relieved because that means the picture will serve its purpose. If it were only a reminder of the Boss's deeds, then... it'd be counterproductive, wouldn't it? Instead of showing that he's willing to make allowances, he'd only be... making her feel more resentful, or something like that. And if Trish's resentment outgrows her desire to be left alone, then he and the Boss are in trouble.
Yeah. That's why he's relieved.]
I-I should get going, then.
[Likewise, there's nothing strange about his suddenly impending departure. They're done here, so he has no reason to stick around.
Or to keep thinking about this.]
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The only thing she recognizes for certain is that the knowledge that this picture contains...probably only really means something to her, anymore. The power it had over Diavolo has been reduced to ash. It means nothing to Doppio.
So giving it to her is more symbolic, than anything. It offers her no real advantages, and if anything, could be intended to make her more pliable to any requests on their end going forward.
But Donatella's easy smile opposes her own frown, and she remembers being kind and willing to bend is not weakness. Being kind and flexible is what allowed her mother to live no regrets. Being kind is the only recourse for a place like this, where revenge can mean total destruction in a way death itself no longer can.
Trish is only dimly aware of Doppio leaving, and she doesn't look away from the photo as she murmurs:]
Thank you.
[It's impossible for him not to hear her, not when they're both monsters with senses as strong as theirs.
But she won't force him to engage with it. Her words will hang where she leaves them.]