isawallflower | RYSLIG; ic inbox

[ There are only so many places near the cemetery could mean. Riley had made her way back to it before beginning her search, and thankfully it didn't take that long to find. A door in a hill? Yeah, that sure is weird.

What she wants to do is quickly hand off the gift-bag in her hands and hurry back ho- back to Hestia's Place. But the way she stands, with a slight slouch, it's uncomfortable. The bulge at her right shoulder, under the puffy coat she definitely didn't have last time she saw Giorno, that's uncomfortable too. For a long moment, without saying anything, she frowns at the door, as if going inside is...wrong.

Then she lets out an annoyed groan and shuffles inside, parcel held close to her chest, likely to keep her hands warm; gloves don't go very well with the talons, see. ]

You seriously don't need to invite me in, all I want is t- to... Oh, wow.

[ Yeah. Yeah, she absolutely finds the decor gorgeous. ]

[He could counter her argument, because he does have a counter: it's fucking cold out and he's not a monster. Well, except in that one way. But in the end he doesn't need to, because Hill House interrupts her for him.]

[When he turns to look at her, it's with a faint, pleased smile. Not so much proud, he didn't do any of this, but it's nice to see her . . . happy? Interested in a positive way, at least. That's why he's smiling.]

It's something, isn't it? I'm not sure who built it originally, but they did an incredible job. It goes down a story and into the next hill as well.

[And this is where he ended up, swept up in the wake of the self that used to be here. That's less nice, but he can cope with it. Another quick look at her shows more, areas of discomfort and uneven bulk. He makes an executive decision.]

The garden's very warm, so we'll go there. You can leave your coat in one of the kitchen chairs as we go past; would you like anything to drink?

[And he goes. He sweeps across the front room with the sort of indefatigable determination of a glacier. She can either follow him or continue to stand awkwardly in the foyer.]

[ Basking in the literal glow of the walls, Riley takes a moment to respond, and when she does, it's to pull her coat closer and to swiftly insist: ]

O- oh, no, I'd really much rather keep it on, so- so I don't leave it somewhere, or...something.

[ The stupidest possible excuse, and her back twitches just a little, but maybe if she covers it with a mostly even smile, he won't ask-

Oh, wait, he's already just. Making his way presumably to the aforementioned garden, not giving Riley time to perfect her polite but upbeat excuse. Lest she get left behind and absolutely lost in what she worries is one of those...bigger-on-the-inside type places, she trails after with a soft noise of alarm. ]

Just, um, some water, please.

[He doesn't actually have eyes in the back of his head, but he doesn't need to to see that she's full of shit. Something to do with that jacket, she doesn't want anyone to see. But it's fine. He won't push it, not after she came all the way here for reasons that he hasn't paused to figure out.]

[With a noise of agreement, he takes a slight detour to buzz through the kitchen, grab a glass of water for her, and then Pied Piper his way through the house to the garden — which, as it turns out, takes up about half of this floor. Up a set of stairs and it's green more or less from floor to ceiling. He leads the way along a stone path to — a pond. That's a pond. There are koi in it. There's a bench next to it. That's where he sits, and offers the glass in a gesture of . . . who knows what.]

Will this do?

[One of the koi goes "glub" in a picturesque way. This is your life, Riley.]

[ Fortunately for Riley, she's familiar with keeping up with people with longer legs, longer gaits. Giorno seems to have no interest in stopping, and his frank but almost lackadaisical way of interacting baffles her too much to try and insist staying in the foyer is fine, please just wait, she just wants to give him the parcel—

But once again she's stopped in her tracks and this time her thoughts as well, slowing in chasing after Giorno to just take everything in, turning on heel in a circle to get a look at everything she can. Has she ever been somewhere this green? There are so many trees, plants — is this really inside? Isn't it cold outside, snowing? Isn't it winter?

By the time she reaches the pond, she's dumbfounded. ]

You really just...live here, in a...freaking deluxe greenhouse.

[ Yes, she plops down onto the bench, giving him a nice amount of personal space, and yes, she takes the glass of water, she very well may need it. ]

How do you keep it all growing?

[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.]

[ 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 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. ]

[Because you're my friend, she says, so simply as though it is simple when it really, really isn't. That's not something people say to him, at least not say it and mean it. Even Mista and Trish — they didn't even have time to say it before everything started spiraling and things got so bad they had no choice but to come out on the other side as friends.]

[But Riley tells him that he is her friend, and despite everything, he believes her. It makes him smile, a soft and tentative expression pointed first at her and then at the bag, which he loosens his hold on just enough that he can look at it properly.]

That's right. We're friends.

[Friends exchange gifts. So this is . . . normal. Maybe.]

[Tentatively, he pokes at the paper.] It's okay if I open it? [Agonizing.]

[ It is normal, despite everything. You give gifts to your friends, and...they give you gifts back.

It's also unfamiliar, because the only friend she's had to exchange gifts with is Cairo. How...terrifying, this is. Still, she gives a small nod. ]

It's for you so, of course it's okay! [ A small, miniscule amount of pep, forced into her voice to make herself feel a bit less awkward. It doesn't quite work. ]

...But, it's- it's okay, if you don't like it, I mean— I didn't really- I'm not very- I didn't really know, what to buy, but, I thought, maybe...you'd like this...

[ Her rambles start to trail off, and, when Giorno opens the gift bag, he'll find something wrapped in tissue paper, on top of a kitschy tin. The tin itself holds gingersnaps that earlier today would've been freshly made, had she not spent hours looking for the other gift.

That he'll find is...a broach, shaped like a dragonfly. ]

[The truth of the matter is that Giorno would have lost his mind over gingersnaps. He would have been excited, ecstatic even, because people don't make him things. The closest he had before Ryslig was when Mista volunteered to make him a sandwich in the days after the Coliseum but was so tired he put a slice of bread between two pieces of meat. Since then, he's experienced the force of nature that is Erina hosting tea, but . . .]

[This is different. And there's more to it than the gingersnaps, his mind doing calculations of mass and size as he looks in the bag and sees a small wrapped item, not nearly big enough to be the weight that's resting on his knees.]

[Cautiously, he pulls it out of the bag and unwraps the tissue paper with the care of someone defusing a bomb. His expression brightens when he sees color, brightens further when he sees shine, and once he's unwrapped it entirely—]

Riley!

[A breathless, delighted exclamation as he holds the dragonfly in both hands, staring down at it to capture every tiny detail. He rub his thumbs along the wings, fascinated by their texture.]

This is beautiful! Where did you — this is perfect. You remembered that?

[The conversation, that is. But of course she does. He does, too, because he made her laugh, even if it was by accident.]

[ Oh.

Oh, he looks...so happy. So bright that she almost can't look at him.

Her own little smile freezes on her face, but in a rare moment, she hasn't forced it there. Riley feels a burst of relief spread through her, all that horrible tension that's been working her muscles into knots washing away. ]

It's- really not that much, I just- I didn't have it specifically in mind, it was just, well, yes, of course I remembered it, it...stuck out, and the stall I visited, they were closing and I didn't really know what other animals you might like, and... You really like it?

[ Cairo's always cool, in control. Rarely wearing her heart on her sleeve like this. It means the gift exchanges they've had, usually Riley's the cheery, excited one, and Cairo's down-to-earth. Making her friend smile, it's always been an accomplishment, but... Sometimes, sometimes Riley's wondered if she ever appreciates any of her gifts. Sometimes... She feels more than a little desperate for validation.

It makes this moment stand out. It makes her acutely aware of how nice this feels, and— and how overwhelming it is.

She stands quickly. To stretch. Sitting feels like she has too much energy in her. Feels like she's going to burst. ]

Of course I like it. I love it.

[His voice, quiet but practically vibrating with enthusiasm, is different from anything she’s heard from him yet. Similar to the excited chattering from earlier, but still not quite the same. He’s delighted, but more than that, he’s — awed. Riley tries to downplay it, to make it seem as though this isn’t anything special, but no matter what she does, he’s never going to see it that way.]

[There’s an incomprehensible difference between zero and one. That the brooch in his hand even exists is what’s shocking, not the details.]

[He runs his thumb over the jeweled back, back and forth, again and again. Smiling.]

. . . I learned that I like that part of giving gifts. Looking until something catches your eye and it feels right. That’s how — the ribbons were purposeful, but the knife caught me in the same way. It seemed like something you should have.

[Glancing up at the sudden motion of her standing, he looks faintly quizzical, but too pleased still to be distracted.]

Thank you. It’s perfect, I mean that.

You're, um. You're welcome~!

[ He even sounds happy...! This is a different feeling, from giving a gift to Cairo. Riley has to sit with it, to try and understand it. She can't right now. And...and hearing he found something...thinking specifically of her...

It fills her up with all that warmth. Too much warmth. Such...

Riley unzips the coat. She lowers her arms, and surprisingly? It slips off rather easily.

There, emerging from her right shoulder blade, is a petite wing, reaching the length of her back. It's completely feathered, orange and reds, some black on the back. She's wearing but a simple shoulderless shirt, to give it room to breathe. It shows off all the orange feathers on her shoulders, on her elbows, everything she's been trying so incredibly hard to conceal.

Her wing stretches out. It's nowhere near big enough for her to fly with, even if she did have a second one. But it's there. A little piece of her. A new one. On display. ]

...You're...very, very welcome, Giorno. Merry Christmas.

[ With just this little action... This is probably the best Christmas she's ever had. ]

RYSLIG; ic inbox

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cw: compulsive heterosexuality; unwanted sexual advances

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cw: intrusive thoughts, parental neglect mentions

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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!