isawallflower | RYSLIG; ic inbox

thank you.

will you be home in about five hours? [ANSWER THE QUESTION]

Yes? I'm kind of sticking close to the apartments right now.
Giorno, what's this for?

[Giorno ..................... does not respond! 😇]

[In fact, Giorno is very busy for the next five hours, genuinely too busy to respond to any texts. He's creating! But because it's him, he shows up at her door after four hours and fifty-five minutes, holding an orange box with a red bow.]

[The second she opens the door, he smiles, says,] Hi! [and moves past her into the apartment. Like the worst neighbor imaginable, and he doesn't even live here.]

[ Honestly. After the first twenty minutes, she figures this is going to be her life. Which is why when she opens the door it's with the most unimpressed look on her face. ]

Really? Not even a single text?

I was busy! If I wasn't, it wouldn't have taken five hours.

[He's such a brat. He also seems completely unmoved by her irritation, and that's because he genuinely doesn't think he's done anything wrong, due to being an idiot. Turning on his heel, he faces Riley (and her own front door) with the box held out in offering.]

I wanted to talk to you about something, and you've had a bad week, so I wanted to bring you something in exchange for bothering you.

[ What could he have been doing that took five hours...? She rolls her eyes and closes the door behind him, so Maple doesn't get out. ]

A bad week's a little bit of an understatement... What did you do?

I could use the word catastrophic if you'd prefer it, but I didn't think that would be very helpful.

[Resting the box on the nearest flat surface to the entrance, he crouches to focus on Maple, who is not who he came for but who does get a salmon treat that's been hidden away in his pocket for this purpose. With a glance up at her, he smiles faintly.]

It's not going to explode.

[And it doesn't. Inside the box is another, smaller box, inside of which are sixteen petit fours, each dusted a pale yellow-gold with a red sugar flower perched neatly on top. Inside, the cake is caramel, the filling cinnamon sugar. By the time she finishes opening it, he's sitting on the floor entirely, legs splayed out to one side, and reaching out in an attempt to boop Maple on the nose.]

[ Riley's mouth drops open as she looks over this rather extravagant cake. ]

Giorno, what... You didn't tell me you could do something like this.

[ Wow the cake she made him seems so much more simple now.

Maple, meanwhile, all but launches himself at Giorno's finger. ]

I just learned— ow! Hey there.

[His finger is mauled, but very gently, claws in, and he does get his boop in, which is what really matters. Ruffling the fur on top of Maple's head, he looks up at Riley inquisitively.]

The first several batches turned out extremely lumpy, but I'm making progress. My— [He tips his head to one side, staring at nothing for a moment, before continuing,] stepmother? Is showing me. Otherwise I'd be lost. I don't know how to do a lot of basic things, to be honest.

[He's quiet for a moment, lashes lowered as he regards Maple's dogged attempt to fight his roots, which curl up out of the way one by one, too quickly for the cat to quite catch.]

I wanted to talk to you about something a bit personal, but it has to do with what happened earlier this week, too. So I thought . . . if she decides that's all right, food helps with difficult conversations. And if she doesn't want to, it's probably a good apology gift.

[ Those roots are the most interesting thing Maple has ever seen, and even though he can't get them...he's sure gonna try to get them! It'll keep him occupied for fifteen minutes or more. ]

You...wanna talk about Aunamee. [ Riley, meanwhile, is more than wrapped up with this whole elaborate sweets thing. It's 65% because she's actually really impressed with them, and 55% because she doesn't really feel like she can look at him. ] ...So you made me food. Like, really-elaborate new-recipe food.

[ After a moment, she sets the box down on her kitchen counter. ]

...What is it? What do you wanna know?

Close, but not quite.

[Thoughtfully, he unfurls one root temptingly in Maple's direction. As soon as that orange butt starts to wiggle, he curls it back in with a very arch look. Take that.]

[But no, he has to look at Riley now. He can only avoid eye contact for so long.]

I made you food because I want to talk about someone I met back home who reminds me of Aunamee. It's something I thought about when you were upset the other day, but it wasn't a good time to bring it up, obviously.

Would that be all right? I understand if not.

[ Oh. That catches her entirely off-guard. ]

Someone else…? [ He isn’t asking what things she told Aunamee. Isn’t asking about what…she did. The questions she still keeps waiting for aren’t coming. Does he really just expect her to share herself? When she’s ready? ] Um. Okay. Is- it someone here or…that you know from home…?

[The idea that she might be confused, might not understand why he isn't asking her for all the details, doesn't even occur to him. It doesn't occur to him to ask. Something changed along the way, not because of the other Ryslig but what happened after it. Riley learned what Haruno was, and she didn't question him. Why he did what he did. She didn't condemn him or look at him differently. She understood.]

[When she's ready, he'll listen. Until then, he'll help in other ways. He doesn't mind waiting.]

[The question makes him laugh, a quiet sound as he glances down at Maple again, giving him a scratch behind the ears.] No, he isn't here. He's from home. If he was here, he would be one of those dangerous things you'd need to know about. But he's from home, and he's dead, and in all likelihood . . .

[He'd avoid Giorno like the plague, frankly. He doesn't say it, just shrugs, as if that says it all.]

Like I said, I don't know much about Aunamee. I know his reputation, which allows me to see his behavior in a certain way, although there's a lot about him hidden under the surface, I imagine. The one thing I know for sure is that when he talks to people, he does it for one purpose, which is to find out their weak points and exploit them. Or maybe exploit isn't the right word. To play with them. He seems to have a lot of fun playing with people.

The man I'm talking about also liked to play with people. Not just emotionally, but he did seem to like finding weak points, metaphorically or literally. [A faintly sardonic smile.] Has Aunamee ever spoken to you about how the shape the Fog God gives us is meaningful in some way? That it speaks to the nature of our selves?

[ She leans against the counter, poking idly at the petit fours. ]

Something like that. ...Not just him. I've heard it from a few people.

[ From how she looks more at the food than Giorno... She doesn't really like that idea. However, she'd said something similar to him. That she's a monster. That others will realize she's always been one. ]

[Crisply:] They're idiots.

[He remembers. He remembers very clearly the first time he saw such an idea on the network — that time from Javert — and the moment Aunamee asked what sort of monster he was, as though he could divine Giorno's nature from that information like some kind of mystic. He finds it disgusting, for more reasons than one.]

The Fog God doesn't have access to our souls. She doesn't know what makes us. My personal opinion [not that it's particularly relevant, but since it's come up anyway] is that she knows just enough to give us a shape that will sting or soothe. Or one that she just finds funny. It's not nearly as deep as the people who spout that sort of thing would like you to believe.

[A pause. He leans back on his hands, folds his legs, sideswiping Maple with a root as he does so.]

You can eat them, you know. That's why I brought them.

. . . Anyway. While they're wrong about the Fog God's choices, the principle of it isn't totally off base. At home, some rare people have powers that you could call . . . an external representation of one's soul, is the best way I know to describe it. They don't tell all, but they might tell something. About someone's anger or regret or desires. Sometimes sad things, sometimes good, sometimes neutral.

[There's a pause, the space of a blink, and he looks up at her again with his wide, alien eyes.]

Mine was . . . creating living things. Creating life, and healing. Mista's— [He presses his lips together, aware he's already stomping on a line and pulling back from it. Even so, he can't help but smile. Abbacchio would be furious with him — or wouldn't; he wonders, on second thought, whether he'd like Riley a lot better than him.]

Mista's is [not was, never was] very representative. The kind of thing you could look at and recognize that the person you're talking to is kind at their center.

[ The smallest smile comes to Riley's face as Giorno cuts down the idea that's been ripping her up from the inside out. The way she looks at him is almost grateful. After a moment, she snatches up a petit four, just as Maple starts scrambling after Giorno's roots.

She listens quietly, and the smile grows a little. Some kind of mystical, magical thing, like she'd read in a story. ]

...That sounds really fitting for you, you know. [ Healing. ] You can't use that thing here?

[He catches her look, returns her smile, two nervous Mona Lisas regarding each other with careful fondness. It didn't occur to him that it would be reassuring, exactly, it was just the truth, but then Riley's feelings about the way he expresses himself have surprised him in the past. This time it's a good surprise, at least.]

Thank you. [Genuinely. It's something that has always brought him real joy, the first joy he remembers, from the instant he saw blooms burst from loose buttons and realized he was the one doing it. He saved a lot of people, too. Not enough, but some. There's reluctance in the twist of his mouth when he looks back down at Maple, pushes him in the middle of his little forehead with a forefinger.] I can't, no. It's . . . been frustrating. People get hurt so often and there's so little to be done about it. I've been learning from Dr. Pierce, but it's slow going. Obviously. There's a reason people get medical degrees.

[Well. One of two reasons. That's right, he's not actually here to listen to Riley say nice things about him, as tempting as it is to linger in the positivity.]

A lot happened at home before I came here that I want to explain, but I don't know where to start. That sounds like an excuse, and in a way it probably is, but I am going to tell you. Just, for the purposes of this conversation . . . what matters is that I was working with several other people who had similar abilities in an attempt to stop— [Oh, fuck it, whatever.] The leader of a crime syndicate from continuing to harm the people of my home. The person I want to talk to you about isn't that man, but someone he employed and sent to kill us. He's the one who reminds me of Aunamee, because he liked to play with people's pain.

[ As Maple wraps his paws around Giorno's finger, Riley's mouth drops open. ]

You were trying to take down a crime boss, Giorno? A crime boss who hired these people with...with super powers? Who tried to kill you? [ Incredulous doesn't do her surprise justice. ] ...No wonder you thought just stealing some pocket money was nothing big, god.

[It's so . . . strange. Looking at her, he realizes she isn't only the first friend he made on his own, but the first person he's ever been friends with who's a civilian — who has no Stand, no basis for understanding the life he's led or the city he came from, with all of its laws and the sub-laws that undercut them. The life she lived was so different from his that neither of them could even begin to navigate the other if they had been swapped.]

[How did he forget so quickly? He saw her as an ordinary person the first time they met, and then he just forgot, but he isn't sure how. She just became Riley, full stop.]

[His expression is strange, like he's a naturalist coming across a new species of bird for the first time right in his own backyard. A little wistful, maybe. After a moment, though, he smiles.]

Organized crime controls a massive amount of the Italian economy, Riley. It runs my city. There's no ignoring it. You can take part without question, be victimized, or try to change things.

[Just like that. Like it's that simple. Which for him, it was. After all, when he started this journey, he had no idea what the cost would be, because he had nothing to lose.]

[ It's so naïve of her, to think Giorno came from a life similar to her own. Maybe it's because they've both got family difficulties, maybe it's because he's seemed almost equally...stunted, in some ways. But how could that ever be? There was always something different about Giorno...but she didn't really question it.

He's her friend.

That's what really shines through, whenever she looks at him.

Riley simply frowns, forehead creasing with worried wrinkles. ]

So you...you get into trouble with criminals. With...people who could kill you.

[ It makes some of the fears and worries of high school seem so small, so miniscule in comparison. ]

[Both things can be true. He can be all of these things — just like her and nothing like her. He likes that he's both. That Riley has never had to do the things he's done. Not these things, anyway.]

[At first he thought it would be difficult to relate to her, but it isn't really. There's so much overlap. They're so similar. She just . . . didn't go looking for trouble, did she.]

That's what I wanted to do, mmhm. I decided . . . for a lot of reasons, that it was the best thing I could do. For myself and my home.

[Slowly, his smile fades into something a little more cautious.]

Are you . . . upset with me? [That's not the emotion he sees in her eyes. But he doesn't know the words for what he's seeing. It's frustrating.]

[ Riley wrinkles her nose. She looks at him in disbelief, letting out a light huff of a mirthless laugh. ]

Why in the world would I be upset with you? I'm worried, you noble idiot.

[ It's a big thing that she feels comfortable enough to poke at him, to let down that pleasant façade in favor of something more rough, more real. Even when expressing concern, she keeps herself even and perky. Not here, not now.

Not with Giorno. ]

[She’s worried about him. That’s . . . it’s not the first time someone’s said that to him, but before it was just Mista, and that’s different. Mista’s one of only two people in existence and the only one here who knows exactly what he went through, every good and bad and complicated thing he did. And Mista’s different anyway, some complex subspecies of normal that does hard things but stays soft anyway. Whereas Riley . . . Riley’s just—]

[It means a lot, that she’d worry. Despite everything. Despite calling him an idiot at the same time. His smile is soft, now, albeit a little fragile.]

Well, I succeeded, and I didn’t die. So you don’t have to worry about that much, at least.

[He didn’t die. Gained a lot, lost a lot, when before he really didn’t have a thing to lose but his life. Some days he’d give it to undo everything else. Most days he recognizes that even if he could, he’d probably elect not to. This whole thing was for a reason. That’s what he has to remember. Face forward and step into the future.]

[He only contains so much nobility, no matter what she thinks.]

. . . Some of the people we went up against, I couldn’t tell much about them for a while, if at all. But sometimes I could learn something right away just because of this power. Some are more telling than others. So even before I saw this man in person, I knew there was something wrong with him. As soon as we got close to him, people started dropping, covered in mold and being eaten — decomposed — in moments. I thought: what kind of person holds that much joy in destruction in their hearts?

[ Riley tries her best to keep a relatively neutral expression. She's listening, and he's okay, so she's trying her best to respect his incredibly dangerous choices, particularly because she doesn't have a single leg to stand on in that regard and she's...trying, very hard, to acknowledge that more.

However, all that fails when Giorno starts explaining the specifics of this person, the one who brought on this impromptu conversation to begin with. She almost drops her petit four, mouth falling open. ]

He decomposed people? With- with— while they're still alive?!

[ It's not until now that Riley really starts to understand the danger Giorno went up against. ]

Mm.

[He doesn't look much happier than she does. More resigned, maybe, but the grim reality of the situation hasn't in any way left him. He still imagines an empty Rome sometimes, how everything might have looked if he had failed.]

I learned more about him later, things I could only guess at in the moment. He was a doctor who killed his patients, experimenting on them or driving them to suicide. A truly disgusting man. He tried very hard to kill Mista, and then he tried very hard to kill me.

[A beat.]

He was a fool. But I bring him up because every time I see Aunamee on the network, I think of that man. He was less a predator than a scavenger, although that seems sort of insulting to scavengers, too. There is a certain type of person who flourishes only when causing pain, who destroys with a touch or a word and who always targets the vulnerable first and foremost, because they are cowards at heart who don't want to take any chances with their own lives.

One thing I learned about this man is that he was never sorry about anything he'd done. Not the small things, like bullying a colleague, or the big things, like trying to kill the most important person in my life in front of me. He relied on others to be good and honorable and took advantage of their good intentions. When he won, he was smug, and when he lost, it was always someone else's fault and so unfair. But above all, he never, ever admitted he was wrong or felt any remorse.

I'm certain that's how Aunamee operates as well, regardless of the details I don't know. And that's what makes him and this man I'm talking about different from you, Riley. The depths of your unselfish feelings are bottomless. You grieve for what you've done every day. You feel other things, too, which is normal — but you are so deep in grief and guilt and recognition that what you've done is wrong . . .

If emotion was terrain, they're in an ocean trench and you're on a mountain. They can't even see you. They would see you as weak and manipulable because they have never been where you are. They've never seen the world from where you're standing. They never will. Because you are nothing at all alike.

RYSLIG; ic inbox

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pistols icon because fuck you theyre cute

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cw suicidal ideation, mold?? gore???

cw: mold gore?!

cw suicide

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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!