starmark | IC Inbox | rubycity_rp

yeah

[The smell of cigarettes fill the air in Polnareff's room, though he's thrown open the window. Now, more than ever, he smokes them like a lifeline, inhaling the harsh taste, trying to focus entirely on the steady stream of nicotine, of the bitter taste filling his mouth.

He sits up when Jotaro comes in, making room for him without a word.]

[That's easy enough. He's there in no time — well, no, he's there in some time, but a very slight amount of some time, which is an important distinction to be made for a person who quite literally could've been there in no time at all if he'd really wanted.

As it is, he comes through the door and shuts it behind him, moving over to fall in next to Polnareff but without reaching for him, not yet. Better to let Polnareff set the pace, and just support until he's given his cues to do otherwise. Polnareff is the one who's hurt here, so the first order of business is to take care of him.]

...You and I are a circle too, Polnareff.

[Yes, and the answer rises instantaneously within him, just as it had been before. Yes, because he will always be there for Jotaro, Jotaro will always be there for him, there's no question, no hesitation--

And yet right now, the yes comes with a hot tinge of hurt. Yes, and yet his stomach curls, and he grips his cigarette harder.

Polnareff, always the last to know. It had happened with Avdol, but he'd been so happy to see him that he hadn't had time to nurse his hurt. And here-- well, Polnareff knows why Jotaro hadn't told him immediately. It's Giorno's secret, and Jotaro values privacy, he knows the weight of secrets, of family lineage. It wasn't entirely his secret to say-- and yet here's Polnareff, three weeks later, only just catching up on what everyone else already knows.]

Yeah?

[It's a request for assurance, quiet and childish and immediately regretted. Polnareff glances away, ears red-- stupid, he thinks, and sucks at his cigarette.]

Giorno knows that we killed him, then. That we killed his father.

[He looks up silently for a moment — up, because despite their difference in heights he's naturally slouching in solidarity, holding himself low and unobtrusive and steady — and regards Polnareff as he looks away, the heat under his skin, and —

this is bullshit, jotaro, i feel betrayed
i know, that's why it's the worst part
so i just have to deal with it? i hate this emotion

— and before he can think better of it, he makes the circle more tangible, more visible; he reaches for the cigarette and plucks it from Polnareff's mouth, just long enough to take a drag on it himself before offering it back.

Around and around, like Hamon in the blood. Everything is circles, everything important.]

Yeah.

[He lets a beat pass, and then —]

You're the thing we had in common, the night we first met him. You were the very first bridge between us.

[It happens so fast he doesn't have time to react-- just Jotaro, taking his cigarette, inhaling without missing a beat, and handing it back. Like it's nothing. Like they do it all the time-- which they do, actually, easily and without comment. He reaches for it, takes it, puts it back in his mouth-- and then offers a weak sort of smile. It doesn't last, but it's there, and it's meant for Jotaro.]

I don't even know him.

[And then, because that's not fair--]

Not the way he knows me. He looks at me like I'm-- I'm somebody, I'm his famiglia, and here I only just found out who his father is. I just found out, Jotaro, and--

[It's hard to vocalize everything swirling through his head. It isn't usually; usually he just blurts out whatever he's thinking, angry or sad or happy-- but there's too much, too many threads to follow, too many ways he's being torn.]

What did he tell you, when he met you.

Edited 2016-04-04 03:22 (UTC)

...Giorno had a monster he had to fight, too. The same way we did. In a group, just like ours, with casualties just like us.

[You yelled for Narancia, the first time I used it.

Stopped time, erased time — either way, how could anyone ever hope to stand a chance against anything like that, a horror like that?]

He told us you helped him kill that guy. So I guess in the future you're a lot of people's hero, not just mine.

[FRIENDS DON'T TELL FRIENDS THEY END UP BEING TURNED INTO TURTLES.]

Then we were talking, and I fucked up. I was talking about how important you were. How you were with me to the very end. I got careless in how I said it, and he figured out that Kakyoin was dead.

...Giorno has this thing about taking responsibility for the people he cares about. Sometimes for things that shouldn't have to be his responsibility, but he makes them his anyway. I'm sitting there talking about how I killed his dad, I fuck up and out Kakyoin to him, we're this huge fucking mess, and he goes — "Nobody here has done anything that needs apologizing for."

He doesn't make apologies for what Dio did to us. Doesn't try to justify it. He knows his dad's an asshole. But I think he needs to understand him, too, or else...how is he ever going to really know himself, if he doesn't know anything about where he came from, you know? Famiglia.

[He shifts a little, leaning his weight against Polnareff just enough for him to feel that it's there, the solidity of his presence at his side.]

He had to tell Jonathan, Polnareff. The guy whose body Dio stole, that he used to have him? Jonathan was here. He had to look at Jonathan and tell him hey, here's what happened to your body after you died, by the way I'm your son too.

I...

[...]

There's no good way to tell anybody. We've done it a half-dozen times and never gotten it right yet. I'm sorry. Whatever you need to say or do or...whatever...I'm here. Okay?

[He's so tired sometimes. It's all such a fucking mess, and it shouldn't be. They killed the monster, and now they ought to all get to go home and live happily ever after-- except of course it didn't work out like that, not even at home. Kakyoin and Avdol fucking died trying to kill Dio, and never mind he was resurrected-- he still died, they still lost him. And all this shit is still going on, despite the fact by all rights it oughtn't. It just-- it never ends, no matter what they do. Maybe it never will end; maybe they'll all be dealing with this for the rest of their lives.

You're a lot of people's heroes, and he's so caught up in that he almost misses the end of it. Not just mine, and he glances over at Jotaro so fast he nearly hurts himself. And Jotaro--

God, he looks so tired. He's only eighteen, and yet he looks so much older right now, staring back up at Polnareff, ready to accept whatever's thrown his way. If Polnareff feels tired-- and he does, immensely so-- Jotaro must be exhausted.

He leans back against him, shoulder to shoulder, and offers his cigarette.]

You didn't tell me.

[A fact, plainly stated.]

But . . . not out of malice. Because it wasn't your secret to tell, not entirely. Because I would have fought Giorno if that was the first thing I'd known about him. And that wouldn't be fair, not to him or you or me.

[He shoots him another smile. It's stronger than the first, still cracked and exhausted and sad, but entirely genuine.]

Is there . . . you don't have to tell me specifics. But is there anything else left for me to find out?

[He's glad for the offer, honestly; even as he takes it, he's remembering again, and this time it's Bruno up on the house roof, asking him when he started, why he still does it. Smoking's a bad habit, Passione has strong feelings about drugs. Was he going to try to quit? He doesn't remember.

He takes a drag, long and slow, and offers it back again.]

I guess that's kind of the unspoken rule. If it's your secret, your information, then you get to control who knows it, who gets to tell it to who. What Dio did to you...that's yours. One of yours. If you don't want anybody to know it, then nobody will — that's how it works. You know?

[...But.]

There's more. I don't know the specifics, but there's some other stuff, yeah. Shit about the future, I guess.

[He nods. It's not a surprise, and he doesn't demand Jotaro tell him, much as he wants to. Whatever secrets there are, whatever's to come, he supposes he'll learn it when he does, if he does at all. Whatever other secrets the mansion holds, they none of them are things that will effect him-- or at least, not so drastically that Jotaro feels the need to tell him. So whatever comes in the future, at the very least, it will all end all right.

He takes the cigarette back. It tastes a little of Jotaro, which is such a familiar taste at this point so as not to really register. Jotaro, which means the taste of cigarettes and heat and a little bit of sweetness just at the end-- which is a strange thing to know about your friend, but there you have it.]

I'm glad you're here.

[He doesn't glance at him this time; just looks at the wall, idly. It's still plain white, and he thinks maybe he'll ask Jotaro later to help him paint.]

You're . . .

[How does he say this? Who else is there, he'd said earlier, and it'd been flippant, but it was also true. Famiglia, but that's Giorno's word.]

If we've got to go through all this shit, I'm glad you're the one I go through it with. And-- and I'm glad I can be here, now, for you.

...Sometimes it feels like I'm there for everybody.

[There's nothing contrary in the way he says it; he's not correcting Polnareff, evidently, in any capacity. The words come out too soft for that, too reserved, in a way that he usually isn't. It's the sort of tone of voice that sheds some light on his motives when he says I like to text because I don't have to worry about my face.

He spends a lot of time trying to make sure Giorno has the chance to feel like a kid, just a kid, just an average funny little kid. It's much rarer that he gets to be that himself, except in moments like this.

His family is a circle of support. Sometimes it's still so bewildering, to take his hands away from a load that he's bearing and find that it's still being held suspended, that other people's arms have been there to help encircle it all along.]

You get me, too, about something nobody else can. The understanding thing, I mean.

You were there with me, that night. He asked me if I was afraid, staring down all the knives he'd thrown at me in stopped time. There was no one there except me and him, no one else to hear what he said to me. Nothing but Star to defend me from whatever he did.

Except you. You were there. Maybe you thought I was dead, but I wasn't. I knew you were there.

[...]

I'm glad I wasn't alone, even if it was just for those few seconds. I don't know if it felt like it, but you made a difference. You made one to me.

[Jotaro, lying in the street, blood pooling on the concrete beneath him. Body too still, face pale and ashen, and he'd known, he's known he was dead. Known they'd failed, that Dio had picked them off one by one-- not easily, maybe, but he'd done it, and now Polnareff was the only one left.

Yes, in short, he remembers that moment. He remembers it so clearly, and despite himself, he feels a shiver working down his spine. He has to glance at Jotaro, watch his chest rise and fall steadily, remind himself that it all ended well.]

I forget you're eighteen sometimes.

[He passes the cigarette back. They used to do this in the desert, back when cigarettes were starting to go scarce. He can't remember who suggested it first, but now it's habit-- you save on cigarette if you both just smoke half of one, right? And half of one is better than none, and so they'd pooled their resources, ignoring the clucks of disapproval from Kakyoin and Avdol.]

I had a pretty great childhood, you know? Me an' Sherry, we did all the shit you're supposed to when you're a kid, catching fireflies and fish and running around, junk like that. And being a teenager, that was pretty great. Pretty normal, I went to dances and did stupid shit and had friends.

[This has a point.]

But you . . . you and Kakyoin both. You both got robbed of some of that. Too much of it. And you're still getting shortchanged, even here.

[He presses against him.]

Tell me, next time you feel like that, like you're stretched too thin, like people are relying on you too much. Anytime, just-- talk to me. You're not the only one who can listen.

[He keeps the cigarette a little too long this time, listening to Polnareff talk about things you're supposed to do when you're a kid, the things that make you normal. It strikes him a little chill and bittersweet, like something once warm gone cold in a cup, the contrast between what Polnareff is describing and the things he remembers himself.

He thinks, often, about the person he's trying to become, how he's trying to deviate from the person that some people here evidently remember and occasionally hate. Less often, but still with regularity, he thinks about the person he'd been before all this started. Before the jail, before Star Platinum.

Usually when he thinks about that person, the adjective that comes to mind is stupid.

Maybe Kakyoin did get robbed of that, Kakyoin who always felt different with a visible tangible part of himself that no one around him could see. It's harder to feel like he was robbed of anything himself, because part of being robbed means that something of value was taken away.

He never asked about Jiji, the things he'd been through when he was a youth. Never learned Caesar's name. Took his mother's adoration for granted. Barely connected, set himself apart, no great dreams, no famiglia of friends, no direction. A shell of cazzimma, if that.

That's not Polnareff's point, not at all. He's not going to sit here making himself feel bad about something that isn't even the point.

But it's a relief, he thinks, that now sometimes when he's tempted to dwell on thoughts of everything that's gone wrong with his life, occasionally the silver lining shows itself on its own.

And —

And Polnareff and Kakyoin, they'd be dead or still with that shit in their brains if he hadn't existed in their lives. Is he their silver lining?

For a second, he gets it: the unfathomable gravity of why sometimes he is Kakyoin's entire universe. It's because sometimes Kakyoin sits there and looks at his life in exactly the same way. It's why he can honestly say those fifty days were the best days of his entire life, regardless of how they ended.

Without giving the cigarette back, he half-leans, half-crawls against Polnareff, trying to get as close as he fathomably can without having to resort to climbing up and over him to do it.]

I'm not all that great at talking. Sometimes the words I want just...don't come out right.

[Like now. That has no bearing on anything, and isn't what he wanted to say, but there it is.]

Even when you weren't here, I'd — sometimes. Sometimes I'd just sit there and think, where's Polnareff, I want Polnareff. I have all these people — people who care about me up to my ears and I just.

You too. Okay? Like right now. It's not always a hassle. Sometimes I like being the one holding things up. Sometimes it's just...harder. Feels like if I'm not, then nobody's going to be.

I don't know why I do that. I'm glad you're here. You make it easier to not feel that so much.

[He throws his arm over him, lifts his head so Jotaro can fit more comfortably against him. Idly, his fingers drag along his back, an action soothing both to give and receive. They're both too young for this kind of talk, he thinks. They shouldn't be having it. They should be talking about girls (or boys), or about where they're going drinking, or-- stupid shit. Anything, really, except for things like this. Things like you make it easier to not feel that so much.]

Good.

[Murmured, and he sets his chin down atop Jotaro's head, staring at nothing.]

'M glad we've got these stupid watches. Means I can distract you way more easily now.

[And distract himself. They can go back and forth, fucking around without having to think, and that's relief unto itself. And speaking of distraction-- blindly he reaches, groping for the cigarette, because it's his turn, thanks.]

They're pretty great, huh.

[...Polnareff's chin is on his head.

It's stupid that his first thought is honestly, if he sets my hair on fire then I'm going to kill him, but it's the blessed, liberating kind of stupid because it makes him want to laugh, and even though he doesn't, the wanting to is enough to shatter the tension like an unwanted mirror.]

Star's learning to use them. Maybe I'll make him send you messages someday.

What do you mean, Star's learning?

[He says it without any real indignance, and inhales carefully from the cigarette. There's actually a fairly decent change he's going to set Jotaro on fire, but that's the price of intimacy. At least he's trying not to.]

Is this to do with Giorno? He fed Chariot pudding a week ago.

He's really doing that to all of them now, huh.

[HE'S A JOJO, HE CAN HANDLE BEING SET ON FIRE. HE HAS SET HIMSELF ON FIRE FOR STUPIDER THINGS THAN FRIENDSHIP AND INTIMACY.]

...I don't tell people about Star Platinum's Time Stop. It's...I don't like telling people about it. So only a few people know, people I trust. But most Stand users will ask, what does your Stand do, so I started saying that his power is "self-preservation" — because it sort of is.

Before I even knew what a Stand was, I figured out that I could shoot a gun point-blank at my temple, and Star would catch the bullet before it hit me. Speed and precision, but also — he'll act to protect me. Even if I don't tell him how, or that he should. It's more like...if I don't tell him not to, then he will.

So lately I've been experimenting with it. Giving him independence, within boundaries I set. Seeing what happens if I don't make decisions for him. He's not...he can't think, not the way a person does. But it's more like...when he gets to something he doesn't know, he'll check with me for a cue of how to go forward, and then act on that. Like I'm his context, or something.

...On his own, he's started deciding that there are things that are important. I think that's a subset of his instinct to protect, the preservation thing again. He never lists me because I'm the most important thing there is, that's a given. But he has this...list, I guess. Things that aren't me, that he understands are "like me" in that way, things he should care about. Or try to protect. Sometimes he calls it "things we don't punch".

Giorno fed him pudding one time, and played with him, and he liked it. So now he associates pudding with that feeling, that..."good thing to protect", a thing that's important to him independently, without me telling him it should be.

[He whistles softly. That's . . . worrying, a little, honestly. On his own, meaning, what, he's an independent entity? And if that's true, what does that mean for the rest of them? Are all Stands potentially able to be independent, or is it only ones like Star or the World?

He knows what Jotaro means, a little, about independent action-- but only as a subset of protection. Chariot will leap into action, moving without Polnareff's precise say-so-- Polnareff will think cut through the flames, but it's Chariot who figures out the precise angle to sweep his sword. But Chariot's never gone off and told Polnareff, hey, here's a list of people I like.]

Can I see?

[He passes the cigarette back down. For now, Jotaro's hair is safe.]

Chariot-- I mean, he ate the pudding, but it wasn't-- I don't know if he could do something like that. Have a list, or speak to people on his own.

Sure.

[He takes the cigarette, reflecting momentarily, but doesn't call out Star just yet.]

There was this one time, Caesar and I got in a fight. Fists, everything. Star kept trying to come out and defend me but I wouldn't let him. That's what makes it weird, is that...to some degree I have to let him have that freedom. If I wanted to stop him, I could. Kakyoin is at the top of his list and if I wanted to make him attack Kakyoin, he would. Star is...

[He pauses.]

Get Giorno to tell you about Mista's Sex Pistols sometime. That's a Stand that breaks all the rules even more than Star does.

[But then, at length, he bids Star Platinum to appear, and Star does — looking both happy and sort of sleepy-content, evidently betraying emotion that isn't making it onto Jotaro's own face.]

[Chariot comes out as well, because this is a whole new experiment. Chariot, who never has to look anything for his emotional owner, simply tips his head.]

What a name.

[Idly said, and Chariot adds an emphatic pami!, which makes Polnareff sigh. It would be embarrassing in front of others, maybe, but he's way beyond embarrassment with Jotaro.]

He's gotten back into that habit, too. Oye, so-- can you-- how does it work? I mean, what, do you just say to Star, oye, go interact in any way you want with Chariot, or--?

Hey, Chariot.

[When did he get into the habit of greeting Stands like they're people? Probably when he fell in love with Hierophant. Or something.

Anyway.]

No, it's more like...hn. Like I said, I kind of have to cue him sometimes. So.

[He wiggles his fingers, motioning Star over, who comes happily and pushes his head against Jotaro's like an eager dog.]

Okay. So right now I'm...I'm holding myself back, sort of. Trying not to tell him explicitly to do anything. Like he's just a person or a pet or something, not my Stand. And then — Star, look at Polnareff, we like Polnareff.

[And that's how it happens: when Jotaro says look, Star looks, immediately; in the aftermath, though, the absence of an explicit command, we like Polnareff hangs in the air as Star bounds up and kisses Polnareff on both cheeks in an unsettlingly Giorno-like motion.]

[Shit--

He likes Star, is the thing. He's a cool Stand. But he's a Stand, which means it's like thinking your friend's motorcycle is cool. You can appreciate it, but you don't expect it to come up and kiss you on the cheek. But Star does, and it's a damn good thing he doesn't bolt-- he's seen what those fists can do, what usually happens when Star gets close to people.

But it's just a kiss, friendly and far more European than he'd thought Jotaro would ever act.]

--hi. Hello. Did you-- did you do that on your own?

[He addresses Star, just as Giorno did Chariot-- as if he's his own person.]

Sort of.

[It's Jotaro speaking, very overtly; Star doesn't open his mouth or mime the words at all, because he's too busy settling in next to Polnareff on his other side in an imitation of the cuddling that's already going on nearby.]

People have done that to him. He knows that's a response that goes with someone saying something like, "Good boy, I love you, you're the best, you're so wonderful."

[He pauses, tugging the cigarette out of his mouth long enough to motion with it, vaguely.]

So what he just did on his own was — it's like a chain of if-thens. I told him, we like you. "Like" means a feeling. It's a feeling he recognizes, and he knows what you're supposed to do when you feel it. It's not that different to..."danger, so punch", or something like that. Except it's..."like, so that".

A lot of times he doesn't know the "what do I do" part. That's when he'll ask me for help. He doesn't know how to connect between the feeling and the action without me. But that one he does, when you think someone is great you kiss them all over the face. Wild guess who he learned it from.

[Sandwiched between Star and Jotaro, and what a weird position this is. Chariot fades back into Polnareff; he'll experiment with Stand interaction later. For now he wants to learn more about this-- this sentience, and yet not.]

But does he argue? Is there every any pushback, or-- is it just you slowly teaching him?

[He lifts his head, trying to get to see Star's expression.]

I just-- I guess I'm trying to understand if he's his own person or not. The way Giorno talked to Chariot-- it was as if he expected Chariot to sit up and start talking back. Like how kids talk to puppets, you know? It's me controlling Chariot, but he spoke like he expected something independent.

[That isn't a slur on Giorno; far from it. Giorno is far too intelligent to be playing pretend like that, so clearly there is a measure of independence here-- one that Star has that Chariot does not.]

No. He's not his own person. It's...complicated.

[He says, as Star snuggles in more emphatically like a giant purple Labrador, and not a force of nature.

Jotaro, meanwhile, takes the opportunity to draw an invisible line in the air with his finger, setting up an imaginary continuum from endpoint to endpoint.]

On this end is a Stand like Hermit Purple. It barely has a form, much less intelligence. It's a tool, that's all. All it does is what Jiji tells it to.

[He slides his finger down a little, along that line.]

I think...you might be like Kakyoin. You've had your Stand since birth, so I think...you've never known it not being a part of you, so you treat it like an extension of you. Kakyoin's Hierophant has personality traits, sort of, but he's an extension of Kakyoin. They're one and the same.

[He moves again.]

Star...isn't "me", exactly. But "me" existed for almost eighteen years without him, and when he appeared, I thought he was something else. So I can tell that he's mine, that we're connected, but he's different from me, too. That separation...is why we're the same, but not identical. Why he's not just an extension of me. Maybe it's because I've always defined him as separate from what's "me" that way.

[And again, further, one last time, down to the other endpoint.]

Mista's Sex Pistols are here. They refuse to work if he doesn't feed them, it's like he's babysitting children. He controls them, but they can refuse him, I guess.

Star...he can't refuse. He can't disobey. But I remember when I was fighting Caesar, he didn't understand why I wouldn't let him protect me. So it was sort of like...not arguing. Begging. It was like he was begging me to let him keep me from getting hurt, and I wouldn't let him do it.

...He's mine. He tries to make me happy. So maybe he's developing that way because on some level it's what I want for him.

. . . that's so fucking weird.

[Cool, though, and he pats Star on the head, making sure he knows he means that positively. And ooh, that's weird, he's never felt Star's hair before, but it's soft-- so he pats again, scritching a little, like you would with a dog. Good boy.]

You definitely have to have him text me. Oi--!

[Okay, wait, no, he has to do this:]

Star! Want to learn something new? This'll make you both happy-- or it should, anyway.

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