isawallflower | RYSLIG; ic inbox

I'll keep it in mind.

[ No!! Her pride!!! ]

Exactly! It's important to know. In this case, it means I know how to address these. Do you all live in the free apartments? So I know where to deliver it to.

[ Well now Riley feels almost a bit ridiculous, so. ]

Actual royalty will probably find it small and silly. I'm captain of my school's cheer team. I don't suppose you've heard of cheerleading?

Yup, I live over here!

[She said before giving out her address!]

And there! I look forward to seeing what you got me, I'm sure it'll be great!

I have not, but colour me curious. Is it a sport?

⟪ she knows about those! sort of! ⟫

[ True to what she promised, around midday on the 21st, Mabel will find her own special package! It's a cookie tin, tied with an orange ribbon, full of homemade gingersnaps — a lot of them.

The attached note reads: "I hope these are to your tastes, but if they aren't I can bake you a special batch of your favorites. ♡ Share with your brother and Grunkle! ~Riley" ]

In a sense. Some people don't really consider it one, but I do. At the base level, we perform routines and stunts as a way of encouragement during other sports' games. More than that, we serve as inspiration for the rest of the school. We compete in our own events against other teams, too. There are some teams unaffiliated with schools that focus only on the performance aspect, but I feel the responsibility to lift others' spirits enhances the experience. We're like a lifeline during troubling times.

⟪ a lifeline during troubling times. it sounds so sweet, and it sounds like something absolutely impossible to even imagine happening at home. ⟫

The most we do is lend favours – ribbons, that sort of thing – to the knights we favour for wins at jousts or in melees, back home. Your version of cheering sounds more elaborate by far. It must be difficult to coordinate, how many members make a team?

[In the frankest of tones:] I have no idea.

[Which is something he should correct, actually. Now that the dust has settled a little, Tsukikage would show him, he's sure. And it would be nice . . . it seems important to know. To feel soil under his nails and life in his hands. Maybe it's more of a need than a want.]

[None of which answers Riley's lingering question. He purses his lips, trying to figure out the most concise explanation.]

Like I said, I don't know who built it, but a lot has been added on by the people who live here — who have lived here for a while now. I'm not sure who started the greenhouse, but it's probably the reason I stayed, to be honest. I wasn't confident about the idea of living underground, but it's . . .

[Leaning back, hands coming to rest flat on the bench, he looks out at the room and smiles.]

It feels right to me. I feel like I can breathe here.

You could always stay if you needed a place. There are plenty of rooms. [Oh. Just like that.]

The hard limit for school teams, if you're going to compete, tends to be around 30. Different size teams are divided up into different divisions, so as long as you have at least five members, you can take part in competitions.

[ She hesitates for a moment, but... ]

My squad's on the smaller side. It's only six members, including myself. The girls can be a little hard to get on the same page, but we have a lot of talent!

⟪ all of this sounds, to her, a person who knows entertainment mostly in the shape of large tourneys or in the presence of mummers' troupes, incredibly festive. ⟫

Talent can get one most anywhere. Can you at all practice on your own, while you are here?

⟪ and then, unable to swallow the question- ⟫

Are all of you girls? And you are allowed to compete in tournaments?

[ Softly, Riley hums as she looks around. It's a relief to be somewhere that's not really cold, even though she is a bit...overheated, in her coat. The bulge at her back twitches.

All she's doing is listening to him talk, somewhat...relaxed, something about Giorno's voice is soothing, despite...her whole thing. It means when his offer comes, it takes her a good long few moments to turn and look at him, shocked. ]

What? [ Eyes wide, confused. ] You- ...what?

I can at least keep up my fitness regimen, as best I can. I can't practice specific stunts, but staying in shape is the second step to being a good cheerleader. The first step is the right attitude. ]

[ How...does she even try to answer, though..... ]

Of course we're allowed. Cheerleading is a primarily girls-only sport, after all. There's no reason why we couldn't compete.

It sounds less like a sport and more like a knighthood. There is a lot of talk of required attitudes, too, though I am not sure if the amount of cheerleaders who lack those attributes come close to the amount of knights who do.

⟪ anyway – dumbstruck pause. ⟫

How odd.

Not in a bad sense.

To call it unusual by my own world's standards would be putting it quite mildly.

[ Cersei compares her to a knight and suddenly, very suddenly, Riley decides she likes this girl. She can tell right away that there are some...fundamental differences between them.

But Riley's never liked being compared to a princess, and this— this is an incredibly nice feeling. ]

I'd never thought of us as knights before. But I really like the sound of it. :)

It sounds to me like there's a lot of things here you're not used to. Would it be presumptuous to assume this laptop's a surprise as well?
Things used to be like that where I'm from, but it was so long before I was born we just study it in history. Everything's not great, certainly. There's a lot of people who'll look down on you if you're a girl.
But, it's nothing like it used to be.

I'm sorry that it's what you're used to. No one should feel like they can't do something for reasons they can't control.

. . . I mean, you don't have to.

[Of course she doesn't have to. She's probably got something else lined up. And while he's mildly disappointed by that, he's not offended. Riley is overbearing and intense, but not unkind. He's sure she's made friends besides him — although they are, he's almost positive, friends. So if she has somewhere else to stay, that's a good thing.]

[Still. He shrugs one shoulder, loose and relaxed. He has never been so relaxed in front of her as he is now in this garden, boneless and happy and looking his age.]

There is room, though. Rooms on all of the floors, I think. I'm sure you'd be welcome. There are a lot of people here, but the place is big enough and everyone's quiet. Mm, except for Mista and Jolyne sometimes, although I can get Mista to quiet down. Tsukikage and Bruno are good people. And—

[Hm. He purses his lips, then turns to look at her.]

Well. It would be nice to be able to see you more often. But I understand if you have other plans, obviously.

I... If, um... I...

[ This is...strange. Like- like it feels like Cairo inviting her over for a sleepover, except more permanent. A boy inviting her over, that's only ever been for a single reason that...she's never really found pleasant.

But, Riley likes to think... Even if she's not very tuned into the dating scene, it doesn't seem like Giorno's flirting with her. She hasn't gotten a single vibe off of him like that. But what— what else could that mean?

She starts fiddling with— okay, so fun fact. It's been impossible to tell, under the coat that she simply will not take off, despite it being...very warm, incredibly warm, warm enough that she's starting to feel a little uncomfortable— but Riley's left hand is almost completely bandaged. It means they're even sweatier than they should be, and they sting, just a bit. Without thinking, she starts to play with the edge of the wrap. ]

There's, uh. [ Inviting her to stay. Inviting her to stay in a place with many other people. Not alone, not in that ~~big~~ small, empty ~~house~~ apartment, with ~~nothing and no one, nothing~~ only a little cat to keep her company. Her mouth is dry. All at once, it's tantalizing. It's terrifying. ] ...I don't...think I could adjust to that many people.

[ How utterly pathetic, she thinks. She's moved on to fiddling with the bandages on her palm, which are already slightly frayed at the edges; she's done this before. ]

[Something's wrong.]

[She says no, also. That's not what bothers him, though. He lies a lot, but he wasn't lying when he said he'd understand if she said no. But she's uncomfortable. Something he did made her uncomfortable. She isn't stuttering, but her voice sounds close to the way it does right before she starts.]

[That isn't what he wanted. His expression closes slightly, but not completely; it's more as though he pulls back a bit to regroup than pulls away entirely. There is somewhere in what he said that he went wrong. Too much, not enough, or simply incorrect? Too many people, she says, but somehow it feels like an excuse. Not even a partial truth, an excuse. But he can't say that. If someone said that to him, he would destroy them.]

That makes sense. It can be overwhelming. I think I would have had a hard time under different circumstances, too.

[If Mista hadn't been here, and Bruno, and . . .]

[Invisible from the outside, he bites the inside of his cheek. What did he do? What?]

[Without conscious thought, his voice draws back too, not formal in tone but certainly in word choice. There's safety in courtesy.]

I'm sorry if I offended you. It wasn't my intention.

[ One claw pushes under the bandage. Her finger presses into her thumb and flexes back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. A nervous habit which is proving to slowly work a hole into the wrap.

Her chin sinks a bit to her collarbone, emphasizing the bulge on her back. Still... Riley glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. The package she brought still sits on her lap, almost forgotten. ]

You didn't, I'm just— [ There's no going back if she says this, but... But she wouldn't want to lead anyone on. And...if he is her friend, then...this shouldn't...matter, right? ] I'm not...really looking for, um.

... You're not...asking me out, are you?

[There is a pause. It lasts a lot of seconds.]

[This isn't because he doesn't understand what she's saying so much as that, while he is having a conversation with her, she pops a wheelie and zooms past him down the wrong side of the road, going the wrong way, maybe on two wheels the whole way. Maybe one wheel. He has to do some course-correction, get back up to speed, and then work on catching up to her. It takes some time.]

[Eventually, he arrives at his conclusion.]

No.

[No.]

I was talking about finding permanent housing. [And he almost says I'm not actually dating everyone who lives here, two of them are my relatives and a lot of them are twelve, but this time he bites his tongue. Looks at Riley, really looks, and sees her overwhelmed and uncomfortable by something she thinks he said, something she thinks he implied, because she expects strings.]

[He can hardly blame her, no matter how much his instinct is to be personally offended. He expects strings, too. Just different ones.]

I'm not going to do that to you, Riley. I told you I wasn't going to be cryptic anymore. That would count as cryptic. [He pauses. Thinks. Amends:] Deceitful. Deceitful is more accurate. That's not the kind of lie I tell.

[ During that pause, she fills in a thousand and one answers. All of them are...crueler than Giorno deserves. Dismissive, scoffing. Either in the vain of why else would we be here? or you? are you kidding? both enough to twist her stomach over and over and over itself in knots, and her arms feel so, so warm, unused to the added warmth from the feathers.

All it feels like is that she's ruined something, in that endless, uncomfortable silence.

But, actually. ]

You're... Oh. [ And then the knots suddenly straighten out, and she feels red in the face for a completely different reason.

Riley smiles, but it's not from the relief flooding her. It's because she doesn't know what else to do, to alleviate the awkward situation. ]

S- sorry. [ Ohhh, don't you dare. Riley takes a moment to right herself. ] I don't, uh— I didn't...think you'd do something like that, I just-

[ And now she's looking straight ahead, trying to find something to focus on. Something else. ]

I don't have...many male friends? [ ... ] A- any. Back home. When guys... When they'd say something like that, it'd just be for, uh... If they wanted to...you know.

[ A pretty, bubbly cheerleader? Who wouldn't want one of those? ]

You don't need to apologize.

[Quiet, thoughtful. He doesn't sound offended because he isn't. This whole conversation has gone in a way he didn't expect, but he's starting to think that was his error, his lack of caution. You could always stay, there are plenty of rooms; his wording was muddied, regardless of his intentions. And it's not as though he doesn't know this sort of thing happens. It's one of the reasons, though not the main one, he always kept himself so distant.]

I think I see what I did wrong. My phrasing was poor. I was excited to see you and that you liked the garden, so I wasn't very conscious or careful about it. I'll be more careful in the future.

[That isn't enough, though. Considering the garden before him in a distant way, he thinks about . . . a lot of things. The way the others stared at Trish as though she was an alien when she first showed up. How hard Narancia worked to understand. The way she screamed at Bucciarati on the ground beside the train, furious and frightened. His expression is complicated.]

I don't know if I can explain this correctly. It's easy to say that I don't do that kind of thing, and it doesn't mean very much, because those are just words. Mm, to me, having friends is new and . . . difficult to navigate. I don't think I would have the right to keep trying if I used friendship to manipulate someone like that.

[With a slight frown, he turns to look at her again.]

I don't know that that made sense. Riley, the people who did what you're talking about are assholes who don't deserve to share space or oxygen with you. In a just universe, they would be here and you would be back home. Since that's not the universe we're working with, please understand that I would rather die than pull something like that. It's cowardly.

Oh- oh, you don't...have to...

[ She starts, but...but trails off. Riley knows, more or less, how to navigate high school. She hates it. Hates it. But, she knows what people expect, what to keep quiet about, how not to make waves. She knows how to smile, pretty and cheerful, to avoid unwanted attention. But...this isn't high school. And Giorno, he doesn't act anything like the other kids at Giles Corey High. That's...good, right?

It should be good. High school is, paradoxically, what Riley hates and what she needs. She's spent so long trying to figure out how to get through life, as a kid, that life outside the structure of school, even as far as college— it terrifies her. She knows what to expect from other high school kids. She knows how to deal with them.

But, Giorno... He's something completely different, isn't he? I was excited to see you— has anyone ever been excited to see her? Truly, actually excited? Anyone except... Except Cairo.

A gnawing pit in her stomach. The voice in her mind hisses, that she's going to ruin this, like she ruined that. It hisses that he's going to ruin this, like Cairo ruined that. She wants to- to disappear, to scream, to not hear these kind, unnecessary words. Like how Giorno's thinking, she's also thinking. About an older boy telling her she could walk home, then. About getting Cairo's voicemail and hanging up before saying anything. About trying to actually talk to her mom, voice shaky and eyes teary, and getting a half-drunk response she'd become accustom to, not now, Riley. mom's had a long day, Riley.

She sits, quietly, and listens. Even ventures a glance, at one point. She's not sure she's ever felt unbalanced in this way. She's not sure if the warm feeling inside her is from her unnecessary coat or...something else. Something she doesn't hate. ]

Thank you. [ She ends up mumbling. Even though something screams in her brain, that that's bad. But... But he's seen her do a lot worse than mumble, and he didn't judge her then, did he? ] I'm... I still- it's a little...too much, a whole...house, in the ground, and...a lot of people I don't...I don't know, [ as she rambles, the words get clearer, more together, louder, ] and, please don't actually die, I'd really- really not like that, I didn't- really mean to, talk about any of this, I just wanted to- give you your gift and—

[ The gift.

All at once, she withdraws her hand from the frayed bandage. All at once, eyes up, she snatches the gift bag from her lap and holds it out to him. That's why she came here, in the first place. ]

I got you something. [ ...Obviously. But, still, she pushes on. ] And...made... Just take it okay?

[ Everything about her posture, the way she holds eye contact for about two seconds before dropping it, the way she grips the handles of the bag with both hands: It communicates that she's not used to this. Her heart hammers in her chest, but...but she's here. That has to count, for something. ]

[As people speak, Giorno formulates responses. This is adaptive. If he stays one step ahead of the conversation, it's easier to navigate, to pull in advantageous or nonthreatening directions.]

[Or at least he used to think so. He doubts sometimes these days. It's because of Mista, mostly; because of things said that he could never have predicted because there is no one else in the world who says the things that Mista does. Erina has startled him a few times, too. But this . . .]

[This is mundane. A courtesy. He gave her a gift, or technically two. Usually gifts are exchanged, not given in only one direction. This is something he knows in theory. Something he should have expected.]

[He didn't.]

[She is holding a bag out to him, he realizes, the words she's saying falling over each other in his mind. Tripping. His expression opens, just a crack in the veneer at first before everything falls away and there is only Giorno, startled and tentative and just a little bit afraid.]

You got me . . .

[Because she tells him to take it, he takes it, hands cupping the bottom of the bag as though holding the world's most fragile egg. Pulls it close against his chest, looks up at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable.]

Why . . . ?

[ The all-too-familiar tone of his voice is what draws Riley's attention back. It's somehow only now that she's starting to realize maybe, just maybe... Giorno's as new and confused about this as she is. ]

'Cause...

[ She starts to trail off, biting her lip in thought. Because she felt obligated? Because it felt right? Because it was her first gut impulse, after discovering the small cornucopia of objects he'd given her?

No, there's a really simple answer. ]

Because you're my friend.

[ A simple answer that squeezes at her heart. ]

The fundamentals seem shockingly similar. The best knights – the Kingsguard – have a lot to carry on their shoulders, beyond the fighting. Whole battles can turn when soldiers see one of whitecloaks ride to battle alongside them, and they can be lost when they see them flee. Not that a true knight would ever choose flight.

Not presumptuous at all. This laptop alone, just as you have said, changes the nature of the game: I am used to sending missives by raven. Electricity, do not get me stared. The complete lack of servants, in fact, as generous as my host has been, he does expect me to offer my aid around the house. I learned to use the toaster. :)

⟪ The last part of the message, though. That... strikes hard. Only extremes in her life have ever been in her control, all else was decided for her. ⟫

It will be strange, once I go back. And it is difficult. But there are always ways to gain control, even for a girl.

RYSLIG; ic inbox

<CheeryCherry>

<CheeryCherry>

<sweaterqueen>

<QueenRegnant>

-> Fast forward to December 21st!

<CheeryCherry>

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<CheeryCherry>

<QueenRegnant> / it is medieval sexism time

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cw: compulsive heterosexuality; unwanted sexual advances

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cw: intrusive thoughts, parental neglect mentions

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<QueenRegnant>

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CHEERYCHERRY. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 019.46.820.17 * CHEERYCHERRY has joined 019.46.820.17 <CHEERYCHERRY> It's Riley! <CHEERYCHERRY> Please leave a message! <CHEERYCHERRY>** Please be someone with their priorities sorted out properly!