[On the sixteenth, on the actual anniversary of the worst day of his life, he'd been — something. Overheated, certainly. Wrung-out, upset, quietly distraught. "Fucked up" always makes for a good catch-all, but it's not particularly specific, not when it comes to the nuances. He never likes to admit that he's sad, somehow; sad is a word that never seems to fit well on his sleeve, like it's meant for other people. But sad, yes, he was probably sad that day, too.
By now, sadness has matured into anger. Anger is easier; he was angry that night, too. Anger is useful, at least, because anger has a direction, anger has fuel. Sadness sits still, but anger moves. Anger has momentum.
Star Platinum is Jotaro's Stand.
Star Platinum is getting a workout tonight; for once Jotaro isn't fighting with him separately, but keeping him close and inside, letting ghostly fists flow down to overlap over his own because he needs the stress relief of doing his own swinging, even if his aren't the fists that are making contact. And even without Star separate from him, much of the wildlife recognizes him by now; in the areas closest to Lot 25, he is the most frightening monster in these woods, and they've learned to give the sight of him a wide berth. A few, the less intelligent ones, still wander freely; the smarter ones don't show up anymore.
He stops when the line between defense and offense starts to blur — when he's starting to feel as though he's seeking out creatures for the sake of fighting them rather than defending the territory he's marked out as his own. It's unsatisfying, but there's something about it that eats away at him, and the thought of pushing it further makes him sick so he stops.
All he's done is defended something he cares about, right? Preventative measures are justified. If he teaches the monsters to never come near him, his family, his home, then in the end everyone is safer.
Right?
He's tired when he wanders back toward the entrance, hunched down in his coat like he's hoping it'll swallow him up. And — there's Giorno, waiting for him, sitting on the ground like he owns the forest where he can't possibly be missed by anyone trying to leave.]
...Giorno.
[His eyes are red-rimmed. He tips his chin a little lower, and hopes that the brim of his hat hides them.]
no subject
By now, sadness has matured into anger. Anger is easier; he was angry that night, too. Anger is useful, at least, because anger has a direction, anger has fuel. Sadness sits still, but anger moves. Anger has momentum.
Star Platinum is Jotaro's Stand.
Star Platinum is getting a workout tonight; for once Jotaro isn't fighting with him separately, but keeping him close and inside, letting ghostly fists flow down to overlap over his own because he needs the stress relief of doing his own swinging, even if his aren't the fists that are making contact. And even without Star separate from him, much of the wildlife recognizes him by now; in the areas closest to Lot 25, he is the most frightening monster in these woods, and they've learned to give the sight of him a wide berth. A few, the less intelligent ones, still wander freely; the smarter ones don't show up anymore.
He stops when the line between defense and offense starts to blur — when he's starting to feel as though he's seeking out creatures for the sake of fighting them rather than defending the territory he's marked out as his own. It's unsatisfying, but there's something about it that eats away at him, and the thought of pushing it further makes him sick so he stops.
All he's done is defended something he cares about, right? Preventative measures are justified. If he teaches the monsters to never come near him, his family, his home, then in the end everyone is safer.
Right?
He's tired when he wanders back toward the entrance, hunched down in his coat like he's hoping it'll swallow him up. And — there's Giorno, waiting for him, sitting on the ground like he owns the forest where he can't possibly be missed by anyone trying to leave.]
...Giorno.
[His eyes are red-rimmed. He tips his chin a little lower, and hopes that the brim of his hat hides them.]