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)
oof with reverb
[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.]
no subject
She can't think of any part of what she did nor what she said being disagreeable or reprehensible in any way. She wasn't expecting his mood to instantly improve, but neither did she anticipate the tension to remain palpable enough to wade through.
He's angry, and she can't fathom what he expected from her when he sought her gaze and said what he had so casually. The weight behind it was staggering. It's so much responsibility for one person. How it made her feel was reasonable then, wasn't it? She told herself she would never be like these boys, until her Stand proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to be like them. Indeed, in most ways she does...but not all.
And now he's convinced she reacted poorly to him.
Trish wants to spit venom back when he turns her own words against her in such a barbed way, but she holds back as much of the bile rising in her throat as she can, pinching her tongue between her teeth. It was never her goal to make him angry, and she chants that reminder to herself.
That being said, she doesn't succeed entirely in masking her own irritation, her tail sweeping quick arcs across her comforter as she leans forward, lips set in a thin pink line.]
Listen to me. I told you it's got nothing to do with you and I stand by that.
[That's the mostly-truth she can cling to. Giorno didn't upset her, not intentionally. Not Giorno as she sees him. Giorno feels rebuffed, which is emphatically not what she wanted, even if she didn't like this pretty words.
She roots around in what they've talked about for something, anything to approach constructively, and decides:]
My single problem with what you said is...I don't want you to worry for me. That's not the impression I wanted to give you at all.
[That's good. That's exactly how it should be.]
You can disagree with my thoughts all you want, but don't patronize me. I wouldn't have an opinion at all if I was happily ignorant to the situation.
no subject
[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.]
i cant believe theyre worried babies and fighting about it. you guys are the SAME
The inside of her cheek is nearly raw from the way she's worried it with her teeth.
He doesn't catch on his own words, but she snags on the difference between want to do and meant to do. And she wonders if he's doing it on purpose. Slipping in that slight change where his ideals and his purpose become inextricable from his sense of self.
She knows that's what bothers her, beyond the insurmountable challenge it would present to anyone, even Giorno Giovanna – but the fact it bothers her seems to be a problem. And maybe it is, because she thinks of Doppio's claim of Diavolo being broken by Gold Experience Requiem, and she wonders where Giorno draws the line between his sense of justice and what justice might mean to other people.
The difference between going too far, and not going far enough.
If she curled away from anything, it was the weight behind his words. That's not something she could take indelicately.
The sweeps of her tail dwindle to nothing as she thinks, because her answer may fix this or make it worse, settling on:]
...That's not what I said. You're an incredible person, but that last thing I want to do is shunt responsibility that should be mine onto you.
We promised to help one another, but hearing you talk like this, it makes me wonder if I've failed.
[That is, to be someone he can rely on. As opposed to someone who needs protecting.
But then, she's not a gangster.
She's not someone who evolved past King Crimson.
She's a normal girl, and even with her new body, that remains true. Just like how everything that is Giorno Giovanna has bled from the silhouette of this plant-boy since the moment he found her on the beach.]
hueuuughghnng
[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.
hear it hurgling
He's like her, in that regard.
But she's not thinking about that, not anymore, not when she feels her own humming anger climb up her throat in a snarl that reverberates through her chest as she leans forward, hissing through her teeth:]
What the hell are you talking about? I haven't thought of you that way in months. I know you mean that invincible, untouchable boy I knew nothing about.
[If he comes back, then I'll be alright.
She remembers the bout they had in the wake of Fabius Bile. She remembers how much he emphasized he wasn't okay in that moment. Haruno, then, only proved he never was.]
If I did, Giorno, we wouldn't be talking right now.
[Because she wouldn't know to worry. Because he let her in. And he tried to change his behavior, which she appreciates, but it doesn't eliminate the core issue.
But it relieved it, because that's what compromise is, right? Both parties gain something, and give up something in return.]
You cannot in any reasonable capacity expect to show me the person behind this dream, and not have me grapple with the reality of it. No fucking reasonable person would take it at face value.
So I emphasize once again, my response had nothing to do with you. Not a damn thing! It's because this world and the one we left behind are so ugly that I feel this way, but you know what?
I don't have to like every part of who you are and what you're doing and still care about you as a person. Being honest with me doesn't mean I'll be happy regardless of the circumstances. I can support you, I can feel responsible for your connection to me, I can disagree with you – all at the same time – and it's not a wholesale indictment of you in any capacity. If you take having an opinion on my place in your world as total rejection, then I can do nothing to change your mind.
But I have to impress upon you that it's because I know you that you cannot treat us like we're all the same. If that's how you think, it's no wonder my reaction seemed wrong to you. But it's how I feel, and I'm being honest too. However, you don't have to like how I feel either. That's your right.
[Bruno said similar. What he did on her behalf once upon a time wasn't about her. And that was easier to swallow then, because they were strangers. But once again, things have changed. And it nearly drives her mad, that while things like this are different, others stay the same. It's no wonder they're falling apart. Or maybe it's just her tenuous bond with them that's falling apart.
If honesty was all it took, they wouldn't be having this problem right? But something is broken, all of this is crumbling to pieces in her hands, and she un-cups her palms and lets them fall. Against everything she wanted from this, she lets her emotions take the reins.]
If that means I'll hurt you no matter what I say or do, then maybe you should go.
no subject
[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.]