rubycity_ooc | August Test Drive!

Entry tags:

August Test Drive!

Thinking of apping a character but not sure they'll fit in the city walls?

Have no fear, a meme for you is here.

Directions:

Use an RNG to choose a location and prompt, or wait for someone else to tag.

Post with your character with their name and canon on top!

If you'd like, leave contact info for people to get in contact for plotting and other such shenans.

Tag around! Make friends. Don't be afraid to chat OOC while tagging.

Locations

1.TRAIN STATION - The place where everyone gets dumped off at. Your first view of Ruby City, complete with informational posters telling you all about where you've ended up.
2. THE BEACH - Lovely year-round, though in the winter months, you're probably not likely to dip your toes in.
3. THE BLACK STALLION - A rather quaint bar. Supposedly, the burgers are great, but you don't see anyone immediately who's willing to serve you. Maybe you're meant to get it yourself.
4. THE OBELISK - The tall monolith in the center of the city marks the gathering place of many events, though right now it seems to be cold and dark.
5. THE CLOCKTOWER - Offering an impressive view of the city, several residents come here to clear their heads, if they don't mind braving the narrow staircase.
6. THE COFFEE JOINT - the front windows are warm and welcoming, and it seems there's always someone friendly enough to fix you a cup when you wander through.
7. THE CATACOMBS - Intrepid, aren't you? Those weird holes may beg exploring, but go too deep and you're going to be in a lot of trouble, considering the viciousness of the creatures held within.
8. THE CITY STREETS - All told, Ruby City is a lovely place, once you get past the fact that several of the buildings look derelict and on the verge of falling down. There's no harm in doing a little sightseeing.
9. THE PARK - You thought it'd be a lovely stroll, but the park is anything but friendly, if those approaching wolf-like creatures are any indication.
10. CHOOSE YOUR OWN - Don't like what we've come up with? Feel like picking your own place? There's a whole host of lovely locations to choose from in the City.

Scenarios

1. NEW ARRIVAL - Step off that train, walk down the street. People usually latch on to newcomers to try and help them out. Even if you look shy, the other residents probably won't be!
2. WATCH TALK - Feeling lost? Disoriented? Don't worry, everyone feels that way on their first day. Fortunately - if the signs at the station are to believed - the watch in your pocket can be used to talk to whoever else might be here.
3. BAD WEATHER - Aw, man. Whether it's snow, or rain, or just plain cold, today was definitely the wrong day to get dumped off in a City in the middle of nowhere.
4. A RUN-IN - Maybe you weren't watching. Maybe they weren't. Either way, you just bumped into someone. Perhaps apologies are in order?
5. HELP, IT HURTS - Clumsy, aren't you? Perhaps wherever the train brought you from wasn't so friendly, or you just tripped and twisted your ankle. Either way, you're in a bit of pain. Hopefully someone will notice your booboos and help patch you up.
6. HUNGRY - It isn't very obvious sometimes that restaurants are what they are, especially in a place like Ruby City. Where can a person go to get a bite to eat around here?
7. MISTAKEN IDENTITY - Hey, there's someone you know! --Or maybe not.
8. BEING FOLLOWED - Maybe you're just being paranoid, or maybe you've got a reason to be afraid. Whatever it is, it feels like there's eyes on you...
9. CURRENT EVENTS - None at the moment, but feel free to look through our event tag!
10. CHOOSE YOUR OWN - Don't like any of these ideas? Feel free to come up with your own!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well, he's not exactly sure what he was expecting. Not that he spent all that much time contemplating what would come next once it was his time. It didn't really matter. There were better things that he could put his energy into. Right now, he's walking the city's streets to learn them as well as he knew Naples. And he's keeping his eyes peeled for Abbacchio and Narancia. He... He doesn't know what the likelihood is that they ended up in the same place. But he hopes they're safe and not alone wherever they are.]

[What he doesn't admit to himself though is that he's also watching for Trish, Mista, and Giorno. (And even Fugo. He holds no ill will there.) He's not hopeful to see them, but that doesn't mean he doesn't examine the face of every single person he passes, looking for them as well.]

[He's across the street when blonde hair in a coffee shop window catches his eye. He thinks at first that he's seeing things, but that's-- No. He tightens his jaw to keep from his heart sinking. Bruno crosses the street calmly. He refuses to look in the window, even though he knows that he should, and opens the door.]

[He only gets one step inside before what he sees inside causes him to freeze, hand still holding the door open. His brow furrows, a mixture of confusion and anger. He draws a single, steadying breath.]

Giorno...

[He's finally given in to actually drinking his cappuccino when someone familiar appears across the street, which is why he doesn't look up, why he's put watching the street out of his mind entirely for a few moments. Still-warm milk settles on his tongue, and a smile flickers across his face, brief and cautious and a little shy, boyish in the way he only is when he believes he's by himself.]

[The door opens, and he doesn't pay any attention to it, letting his eyes fall shut so he can compare this cup of coffee to every other one he's ever had. There is nothing in his life, for this brief and uncomplicated moment, but him and the taste of espresso.]

[And then a voice cuts through his reverie like a knife, and his eyes fly open to see - something impossible.]

[It's only through some miracle that his cup doesn't tip over when he drops it, rattling on its base instead until it comes to a sudden stop. Liquid sloshes over the edge and drips down the side, but Giorno isn't paying attention. His fingers go tight on the edge of the table, his only visible reaction beyond a widening of his eyes, the rest of his expression suddenly and carefully blank.]

Bruno?

[He wants to get up and rush over to him. But he can't. He can't move at all.]

[Bruno flexes his fingers subtly at his side. The anger he feels isn't directed at all at Giorno. It's thrown in a number of directions. Diavolo. Circumstances. Fate, if such a thing exists. Himself. But none of it at Giorno. It's a strange pain he feels when it comes to Giorno. Regret, grief, and loss intermingle with a spark of selfish happiness. None of which Bruno knows immediately what to do with.]

[He steps further into the coffee shop, his fingers streaking on the otherwise pristine glass of the front door. They catch for a moment on the wooden frame before allowing the door to swing shut behind him, ringing the bell above it a second time.]

[There are questions that he wants to ask and should ask, but each of them are rushing forward to try and be first. He swallows thickly, choosing just one.]

What happened?

[He isn't supposed to be here. He's supposed to... Well, Bruno doesn't exactly know what the exact path Giorno was supposed to walk, whether he really would have taken over Passione or let it die. But Bruno knows that Giorno was supposed to finish things with Diavolo and then resume his life in whatever way he was happiest. He was supposed to keep his promise to Narancia. He was supposed to look after Mista and Trish. Those basic things at least. But he's here and the implications scare Bruno more than he wants to admit.]

[He notices, in a distant way, that his fingers are shaking, that his knuckles are white against the table. There is something unholy about this, wrong, and he's trying to cling to that, because it's easier to be confused and uncertain about the ramifications of meeting someone after their death than to succumb to the bittersweet joy he feels at the lie that is the sight of Bruno alive in front of him.]

[With perfect precision (even while trembling), he picks up his napkin and wipes the spilled coffee off the table, looking anywhere but at Bruno. He folds it neatly and lays it beside his mug, presses his lips together, takes another sip.]

You died, Bruno.

[This is almost enough to make his voice shake. Almost, but not quite. He looks up at last, offering a smile that is at once incredibly sad and wholly inappropriate, which doesn't reach his eyes. Then he stands abruptly and begins to cross the room to the counter, for something to do.]

Sit. [In tones that imply he is quite used to being obeyed, now; he can't help it, it's easier than allowing himself to be taken care of.] I'll get you something to drink.

[Bruno doesn't move from the spot he's standing. He recognizes the authority in Giorno's voice, but he's never answered to Giorno. He's listened to him in the past, heeding his advice and insight, but he's never fallen in line behind him. But he doesn't bristle at the command. In an odd way, it fills him with pride. But he doesn't know if that pride is coming too soon with the possibilities of how he managed to get here. So that brief smile that his lips curve into quickly fades back into something neutral.]

I know what happened to me, Giorno, [he says this a little softer, a little gentler than he intends to. He's not really sure where it comes from or why it's there.] I'm talking about what happened to you. To Mista and Trish. [A beat.] To Diavolo.

[He could have dealt with reprimand, but Bruno never was the type. He could have handled anger, but there's nothing to be angry about, not really, not on either side. Silence would have been wonderful, would have allowed him long moments to pull himself together - but no.]

[What he gets instead is kindness, and Giorno, Don Giovanna, head of Passione, is utterly unprepared for it. His shoulders stiffen as he freezes on the way to the counter, as he considers whether or not to turn or to keep going.]

[In the end, he turns, his expression unreadable, and he offers the facts, just the facts, in tones that sound like a report.]

Diavolo is dead.

[Dead dead dead. Over and over again dead, locked in a never-ending loop of his own carnage, and Giorno doesn't regret it, he doesn't regret a thing. You killed my family. You deserve this.]

Trish and Mista are fine. We all made it through.

Passione is mine now.

[This is different from saying I am don. Even the don can have an incomplete grasp over his own domain. But Passione belongs to him, and nothing happens without him knowing about it, and he is changing things, slowly but surely and irreversibly.]

[His expression doesn't change at all from its carefully blank facade, but what he says next comes out without his permission.]

I missed you.

[For a moment, Bruno can only stand there in what feels like a mild amount of disbelief. It's exactly as it should be. It's most everything he could have wanted and allowed himself to hope for. It's easy to not believe--even though Giorno would never lie about something like that to Bruno, not now--because when have good things like this come into any of their lives? Even Trish, who had remained untouched by all of this for so long, couldn't lead a simple and quiet life any longer. But he knows it's true and there's a peace that washes over him that feels even deeper and even more calming than when he departed from the world.]

[They are safe and they are happy. Bruno's gaze begins to wander away from Giorno, not entirely focused any longer as some of the tension he was holding slips away. He is immensely proud of Giorno. Not just for finishing things, but for taking control of his life, of Passione. He knows that Giorno is turning it into what it always should have been and he has the skills, the personality to hold it together. He thinks some of the others had been mistaken, had thought that Bruno would take over after everything was said and done. But Bruno knew deep down, that was never meant for him. His job was to get Giorno there. It took a while to see that part, but he realized it very quickly as Giorno seemed to grow up right before his eyes.]

[I missed you. Bruno's gaze snaps back to Giorno.]

I don't regret anything.

[He feels that's important to say. To re-establish. For Giorno. And... And for himself. It's only standing here now that Bruno realizes that he had accepted his death a while ago now, but this is different. He hadn't expected to be confronted by anyone left behind after the fact. Not until much, much later, if ever.]

[He moves over to the table where Giorno had been seated, resting both hands on the back of the chair opposite Giorno's.]

You haven't exactly given me a lot of time to miss you in return. [He turns his head a little to look at Giorno again.] Or maybe it's something else that's given me time back.

[He hesitates to say it because it's an incredibly overwhelming thing to say aloud. It's something he's only acknowledged in his head up until this point.]

I feel alive.

[He can see and hear. He can feel things beneath his fingers. He's touched his skin and it feels warm. His heart is beating steady. But he doesn't understand how that's possible or how long it will last. If it will last.]

[Well. He can't help but smile at that, even if it is a bit strained. Of course Bruno doesn't regret anything. He isn't the type to do that, either. Certainly not the type to begrudge others their safety, or to put any priority on his own. He would, and did, work himself to the bone for his gang, for his family, and see no problem with that whatsoever.]

[Giorno would not have followed him, in the beginning, if he were any different. It makes him sad now, though, a very simple and pure sadness undiluted by resentment or anger. He knows Bruno did what he needed to do. But he missed him, all the same.]

[He steps back to the table, allows his gaze to fall to the wooden surface, to the sticky streaks where he'd only half-successfully cleaned up his spill. There are dried coffee bubbles on the side of his otherwise-pristine white cup. The imperfection is pleasing, in a way, a natural intrusion of reality in a day that was seeming far too simple to belong in Giorno's life.]

[I feel alive, Bruno says, and Giorno lifts his eyes again, meeting Bruno's gaze with an expression both sharp and crystal-clear. After a moment, he holds out his hand.]

May I?

[Though the question is perfunctory; he doesn't give Bruno time to give or deny permission, but, in his entitled way, simply takes Bruno's wrist in his hand and tests his pulse with two fingers.]

[His smile is an impossibly quick bloom, bright as a hothouse flower, all teeth and little-boy pleasure. He taps out the rhythm of Bruno's heartbeat, the thump-thump, thump-thump that proves success.]

It wasn't me.

[It can't have been him. Because it worked.]

[He would have consented anyway if Giorno had waited long enough for him to. It's not that Bruno doesn't trust his senses or his mind. He's certain of what's real without question. But having a second opinion, having someone else confirm what he knows is something he's wanted since he noticed how very alive he is. And yet he wouldn't trust this to anyone else who wasn't part of their gang, their family. Who would believe him anyway? Even with as strange as this city is, it seems like a lot to ask for belief.]

[His eyes are drawn immediately to Giorno's hand on his wrist, the fingers pressed against his pulse. Part of him wants to pull away once Giorno has confirmation. Bruno's not exactly tactile defensive, but he doesn't go looking for touch for his own sake. So, he certainly thinks he should pull away. But he doesn't. He lets Giorno hold onto his wrist, feel his pulse for as long as he wants. Bruno doesn't pretend, however, that it's for Giorno's sake. He hasn't been able to feel the touch of another person for what feels far too long. It's grounding, feeling someone else touch him.]

I didn't think it was. [Giorno knew it wouldn't work. No matter how much life he tried to infuse in Bruno's body, he couldn't return Bruno to life. He wouldn't have wasted time with something like that.] I don't know how it's possible. Even if our spirits hadn't been swapped around, my body was deteriorating rapidly. I didn't have much longer.

[He doesn't hold on for too much longer than is appropriate. Just a few lingering moments, maybe, to convince himself, to allow his own heartbeat to sync with Bruno's, to let this become a reality he can believe in. Once he's quite sure, he lets go, and his hands fall to his sides in a loose, casual posture that makes it seem as though he's never been tense in his life. His fingers tap on his leg, thump-thump, thump-thump, and part of him wants nothing more than to tell Mista, right now this minute, that Bruno's back, that everything is going to be all right.]

[Instead, he pulls his chair out and sits again, elbows on the table. There is the urge in him to bring life to everything he touches, to pull out Gold Experience here in this cafe, a symbolic celebration of something he had resigned himself to being impossible.]

[All he does, though, is lift his cup to his lips again and take a slow sip. It's still good, if cooler now - unlike Bruno's skin, which is warm again, full of life.]

You're not the first dead person I've met here.

[He is blunter with Bruno than with most people - than with anyone else. Because Bruno can handle it. Bruno can handle anything.]

I don't think we're playing by the usual rules anymore.

[Bruno watches Giorno as he moves back around the table to sit and sip at his drink. While Giorno takes that slow sip, he pulls the chair in front of him out, turning it slightly away from the table before he sits. It gives him more room to cross one ankle over a knee, but also so he can watch the street outside. He's not searching like he was before. Giorno wouldn't be sitting here if there was anyone else to find. But that doesn't mean he's not going to keep an eye on things outside, that he trusts anything that isn't their territory. He rests an arm on the table and watches Giorno out of the corner of his eye.]

[As Giorno expects, Bruno can handle the bluntness. He prefers it, in fact. There's no point in using euphemisms or pretending like things didn't happen as they had.]

No, we're not, [he agrees, voice a little distant.]

[He doesn't know what the implications for any of this are. As much as he'd like to rest easy, to simply be happy for the life that's been returned to him, he can't. He worries, quietly and privately, about where it comes from, how long it will last, and what will happen when it's over. He cants his head a little, considering Giorno for a moment at the edge of his vision.]

[He'll be fine, he thinks, no matter what happens from this point forward. Giorno doesn't need Bruno anymore. He never really did, not in the same way the other boys did, but especially now. It's not a horrible feeling. Unfamiliar, but not horrible. Bruno can live with it and get used to it. Provided he has the chance to get used to it.]

[He pulls all of his attention back outside the window.]

You've met more living than dead, I hope.

[As things are now, his fingers are the same temperature as the liquid in his cup. He takes another sip and watches Bruno, the way he sits, the way he watches. Bruno is always watching, because there are always people depending on him, and so he can never let his guard down. Even now, knowing what he knows about Giorno, he watches.]

[It's as comforting as pulling on an old, worn sweater. Giorno doesn't need Bruno, it's true. He will survive, on his own or in company, because he has the strength to, because he refuses to allow anyone or anything to bring him down for good. But he doesn't want to be on his own. There's been enough of that, enough loss and loneliness. Just surviving isn't enough anymore.]

[He is much happier here, all of a sudden, now that he knows Bruno is here with him.]

So far, yes. Although I'm sure there are people I've met who didn't want to share on first acquaintance that they'd died. It's a little personal.

[And then there are the people, like Kakyoin, who use their death as a weapon. It didn't bother him. It's just an interesting fact to note.]

[He shifts unconsciously, leaning forward to study Bruno's face as he watches out the window. It's been months for him, and they never did have many pictures, for safety reasons. There were days when he worried he was forgetting - or at least forgetting how Bruno looked in life, before the first fight with King Crimson.]

[He will remember, now.]

I haven't found anyone else from home. Just you. And you'd have told me by now if you had, wouldn't you?

[It's a little personal. Bruno doesn't laugh, but he lets out a small puff of amusement through his nose and one corner of his mouth pulls back in a flicker of a smile. He supposes it is. It's not that he overlooks or tries to minimize the impact of death. No one can ever really become numb to its occurrence no matter how many times it happens. But Bruno knew his time had come. Most people aren't that fortunate. They don't have time to come to terms with it and either put it out of their mind completely or remain in fear of it.]

I wouldn't have come here alone, if I had.

[He wouldn't leave them anywhere in a place he didn't know like the back of his hand. If there had been somewhere safe for them to hide away while he investigated, of course that would be exactly what Bruno would do. But he doesn't know this city, knows even less of the people here. If he found any of them, he would have kept them close. Just as he intends to keep Giorno close now.]

It's better they're not here. [It's simultaneously more and less to worry about. On the one hand, he knows at least Mista and Trish are fine. He can assume the same is true of Abbacchio and Narancia. But on the other, he's not there to be sure for any of them. He turns his head again to look at Giorno, a serious look in his eyes. He almost says that he's glad Giorno is here. It wouldn't be a lie. But it's not the greater truth. So, instead,] I'd prefer it if you weren't.

[He has the least to worry about when it comes to Giorno, even less than Abbacchio. He always has because Giorno is capable and strong. But this isn't Giorno's place. His place is with Passione, at the head of it. Not here with Bruno in this strange city. They simply weren't meant to see each other again, not in this life and not so soon. Circumstances are what they are though and Bruno can't do anything about them any more than Giorno can. So, he leaves it there.]

[It's as close as Bruno usually comes to laughter, and Giorno relishes in it, smiling a little into his drink as he takes another sip. They are both very serious people, unused to very much levity in their lives and accustomed to others being dependent on them. But Giorno has always been a touch more capable of sly, sideways humor, and sometimes he manages to pull Bruno along.]

[They really weren't together for that long, all things considered. Not long enough to make a family, by most people's estimation. But they aren't most people - never have been, never could be - and so Giorno reckons his time in Bruno's gang, back when it was Bruno's and not his, as the warmest and safest time of his life, despite the heartache and terror and death, because it was where he found his home. For quite a while, Bruno was home.]

[It still feels that way, even now, even knowing his own power and knowing that he doesn't need anyone but himself anymore. He doesn't need a home. He just wants one.]

[He lets his cup rest on the table and bows his head slightly. It is better they're not here. It would be better if Giorno wasn't, either. He understands the logic behind this, and so it doesn't sting. But he's happy, all the same. Life without Bruno doesn't hurt the same way life without Narancia does; Narancia wasn't ready to die, but Bruno went into death with his arms and heart open. Even so . . . there is a space in Giorno that Bruno's presence occupied, a hole left behind. He feels a little less empty, now.]

I'd prefer it if you weren't dead. [He shrugs, loose and casual.] But neither of us can change what is, only what will be.

[A wider smile, then, edging into a smirk.]

We're very good at changing the future.

[It's hard for even him to say whether it's a habit of self-preservation or to remain a stable constant for others. Maybe it's a little bit of both. But smiles on Bruno's lips are almost always faint and fade quickly. He's never had much room in his life for overt displays of emotion that last. Happiness always seems to be the most fleeting for Bruno. He just never particularly tries to hold onto it. But every now and again, his smiles linger in his eyes. At the mention of changing the future, there's another flicker of a smile, but this time it holds in his eyes.]

So we are. [We. It's an important word. He looks back out the window, smile still in his eyes.] Now if only we could do it this time without risking our lives every couple of hours.

[Which shouldn't be that big of an ask. For most people, it probably wouldn't. But God only knows how long until Bruno and Giorno put themselves in that kind of danger again and most likely for the sake of the other. He's okay with that though in all honesty. Granted, he'd rather Giorno not put himself in harm's way for his sake, but he knows there would be no talking him out of it. It's what they do for one another without question. It's what they would do for any of the others if they were here. As it is, he's content to have this moment of peace if a moment is all it is to be. He can't even remember the last time things were this quiet.]

[We. All of them, really; all of Buccellati's gang, his family, Giorno's family, too. They have all learned to change the world to meet the standards they set for it, to accept nothing less than the best. They've worked hard for it, sacrificed more than they should have had to, but they got there. They did. And there's no going back from that understanding, that responsibility, that knowledge. They are, together, more powerful than most people ever dare to me.]

[Greatness has never weighed heavy on Giorno. It's in his genes. There's enough to worry about besides hat, anyway.]

There's no point hoping for the impossible, Bruno.

[This is teasing again. He can't quite keep himself to his normal levels of composure. He's happy, excited even, because while Bruno had been perfectly ready to let go, he hadn't been ready. Neither had Mista; neither had Trish. He carries their grief with him, wishes he had some sort of conduit to speak with them, to share his happiness.]

[But wishes are a waste of time without a concrete way to achieve them.]

[He laces his fingers together on the tabletop, watches Bruno in profile.]

You'll stay with me.

[This isn't a question. It's not a request. Although, if he has to, he will delineate his reasons, the practical and the personal. It makes sense for them to stick together. It will be harder for enemies to get the jump on them. It will be easier for them to communicate. And he doesn't want to be alone. He very much doesn't want to be alone anymore.]

[It's not a question and it's not a request. But neither is it really an order.]

[For all the reasons that Giorno has, Bruno shares in them. There are practical considerations, of course. It may just be the two of them, but there's no reason to split up and they'll be safer together. Bruno will be able to keep an eye on Giorno even if he doesn't need it and Giorno will be able to watch Bruno's back. But there are other reasons as well that are not any less rational, but far more emotional.]

[Bruno folds his other arm across his chest, resting his hand on the forearm of his other. It's true what he said. He hasn't had enough time to miss Giorno. Not really. His last conscious thoughts before he ended up here was placing his faith in Giorno to finish what they started and finding peace in that faith. And now he finds himself grappling with being alive again and confronted with someone who has had time to mourn and grow. He doesn't want to hold Giorno back, won't allow himself to do that, but he also doesn't want to be alone either. Bruno has only ever been as strong as the people behind him. The people with him, he corrects himself. Bruno should be standing behind Giorno now, called upon when he's needed but not overstepping. He can't expect them to fall into old patterns like this every time and certainly not forever.]

[Vaguely, even though it's foolish and pointless, he wishes he could see it. He wishes he could see what Giorno has carved Passione into. What sort of don he is exactly. He'll have to settle for this. And that's not such a bad thing. It's more than Bruno would have otherwise and it matters very little beyond that they're together. Of course Bruno will stay.]

[It's just a fact that Bruno will stay with Giorno. Bonds like this simply don't end in death.]

Where else would I go?

[Some other man - some other boy - would take this opportunity, this opening, to close the space between them, to wrap his arms around Bruno and hold him close, to ascertain the realness of him and to take comfort in his presence. To allow him, too, to take comfort, to share safety between them, to physically cement the reuniting of a family.]

[But Giorno is not a boy anymore, and he's not a man; he's a don, and even here, far away from Passione, he must at least try to stay composed. That and he isn't sure Bruno would be comfortable with such an approach. He never was terribly physically affectionate, even after they learned to trust either other with their lives, so maybe - maybe it's better to leave the space of the table between them, a buffer for impulsiveness, something to keep them both safe.]

[Still, he reaches across the table until his fingers touch the precise middle, where a container of sugar marks the division between his half and Bruno's. He is there, if touch is needed or wanted. If it isn't, he'll still be there.]

[He doesn't want to be alone.]

Nowhere else. We stick together. Here as anywhere else.

[Always, all of them, but him and Bruno most of all. They have saved each other too many times - even the time that it didn't work. They've made each other's dreams come true. And now it's Giorno's job to protect Bruno's family - and he can't. He's here instead.]

[It tastes frustratingly like failure.]

[Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Giorno's hand reach out on the table, stopping in the place between them. It's hard to tell if Giorno is reaching out for his own sake or Bruno's. He's naturally a little more comfortable with the former over the latter. Narancia, as much as he insisted he didn't need things like that, would still reach out for Bruno frequently. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel fingers curling in his sleeve before they could adjust and quietly hold onto his arm. Bruno would never say anything or draw attention to it. He would just be there for as long as Narancia needed him to be. He wonders if this is the same, just reversed, or if Giorno really is reaching for him.]

[Either way, he thinks it's best if he doesn't reach back. Bruno can't take from Giorno in any capacity whether it's for himself or to coddle Giorno. He lifts his hand off the table to rest his chin in his palm, the tips of his fingers obscuring his vision of Giorno some, and holding his other hand firmly in the crook of his elbow.]

And the others will have somewhere to go if they turn up. [As much as he doesn't want them to, they're family. They go wherever family goes in the end. It feels...strange not having them already here, but he feels in his heart it's almost inevitable. Even if he's not still here to see them, they'll come. He needs to get off this topic, he realizes. He feels uselessness beginning to prick the edges of his heart.] Have you seen any other Stand users since you arrived?

[Bruno doesn't reach back. And that's fine. It is. Giorno holds to the promise he made himself; he leaves his hand where it is, in part just in case Bruno changes his mind, and in part so it doesn't seem as though he's hurt.]

[He isn't hurt. He's not. It's just how they are - how Bruno is. They need to be strong for themselves, for each other. They can't afford weakness, even now. Especially now.]

[So of course, it doesn't hurt at all.]

[He straightens up a bit, shoulders shifting back at the question. This he can do very easily, fall into the memory of when Bruno was his leader, when he reported to him despite his own ambition. It had been a means to an end at first, but it became very natural very quickly. Even now it feels natural, though he is don and Bruno is dead, and they won't look at each other or touch, and he's already beginning to forget the rhythm of Bruno's pulse.]

Two. Noriaki Kakyoin with Hierophant Green; Jotaro Kujo with Star Platinum. They both know of Gold Experience. It was tense at first, but I don't think either of them intend to harm me.

[Probably. Possibly. Mostly. It's really hard to say, given everything, and part of him wouldn't blame them if they did. He hesitates, as if he's about to say something more, and then lifts his cup for another sip instead.]

[He makes a small noise of acknowledgement that he's heard Giorno, but otherwise he is silent for a few moments. Giorno says they don't intend harm, but there's a hint of hesitation that he detects from Giorno as he takes another sip. He minutely shifts his head to look at Giorno, trying to read him for what that might have been. But Giorno, as always, is moderately unreadable and his gaze drops momentarily to the center of the table where his hand still is while he tries to puzzle it out for himself.]

[He doesn't think Giorno would hold back important information, even with the shifting power dynamics between them. They've been through too much together for that. But he is holding something back. Bruno just has to trust it's nothing too terribly important or that Giorno will come forward with it eventually. He doesn't push and returns his gaze to the street.]

[Noriaki Kakyoin and Jotaro Kujo. He will need to remember those names.]

Good. I don't expect that things will remain peaceful here for long, but if you can earn their trust rather than their ire, they could prove useful.

[And there's very little question that Giorno could earn their trust. He has a presence about him that Bruno noticed the very first time their paths crossed. He's confident and naturally, effortlessly charismatic. People bend to his authority whether they mean to or not. It's more a matter of whether or not they can be trusted and it's important that it's Giorno's decision, Giorno's lead on how to determine that.]

[It's difficult for Bruno to not make it an explicit order as he would have in the past even though the intention is the same. Especially with the way Giorno is reporting and deferring to him. But it requires a subtle touch, a quiet permission that he need not respect Bruno's authority the way he used to. It's... Well, it's uncomfortable. Bruno is used to following where he must, but not from Giorno. Giorno has been his in the same way the others are his. Until his last breath, they were each Bruno's responsibility. Even Fugo who chose to no longer follow Bruno, he still felt a responsibility over and that's why he made it a choice, not a direct order. But his responsibility over Giorno ended with his life. Being alive again, in whatever capacity, doesn't change that fact. His duty remains, but not his responsibility. It's something Bruno needs to adjust and adapt to for Giorno's sake.]

[And he's willing to for Giorno's sake because no matter how long this lasts, Giorno will return home and he will pick up with his life again. He has to remember that. Bruno has to remember that. So things cannot be exactly what they were and they must find a new balance with one another. He doesn't expect that it will be found immediately, but they can't linger in memory and past behavior.]

[There are things he does want to tell Bruno about both of the men he met, important things that need to be communicated about the nature of their tenuous alliance and why it was so difficult to come to a peace in the first place. How even the most minute of mistakes could shatter that, or at least that is what Giorno believes - the slightest step on his part from innocence into culpability could change everything.]

[He cannot tell Bruno these things without telling him everything. And he doesn't want to tell him everything - but if it's a matter of their safety, Bruno's safety, or secrecy, there really isn't a choice, is there?]

[He takes another, steadying sip and nods, turning his head to look out the window, as if he's looking for something, when really he just needs somewhere to look that isn't Bruno.]

They would be very useful. They're both powerful - Kujo especially - and competent users. Not as experienced as you, but close. And . . . I believe they work well together. They are definitely known to each other.

[An understatement. The one he killed himself was my best friend. Your dad punched a hole through him. Giorno smiles into his cup, because that is the only steadying response he has available to him at the moment, and glances back at Bruno, his expression placid and calm as usual.]

Earning their trust may be more difficult than usual. They have learned to distrust . . . [He tips his head slightly to one side. Charisma? No.] Men who lead effortlessly. Men like me.

[Giorno is alluding to a history, carefully and without saying too much. The peace between him and the other two is fragile. But it's not a normal fragility that is often created when two people meet for the first time, when they must carefully feel the other one out to determine how much trust can initially be placed in their hands. It's deeper and more complicated than that. The weight in the words men like me speaks to it. Bruno just can't place where the history lies exactly. Does it rest solely with the other two, their own pasts making themselves known by the way they carry themselves? Or does it rest in Giorno's history, of which Bruno knows very little?]

[His gaze falls on Giorno again. It's a harder look this time, scrutinizing and likely summoning echoes of the memory of their first meeting save the inherent mistrust of an outsider. He's trying not to think of Giorno as a subordinate that is willfully concealing information. He knows better than anyone else in the gang that keeping information from others can often mean their survival and he has to trust in Giorno differently than he had before. He turns his gaze away again to keep from interrogating Giorno over it, to respect that there are things Bruno may never be privy to. He sits with the frustration and does nothing with it.]

More difficult, but not impossible.

It's inevitable that our paths will cross with one another again. [One way or another, Stand users cannot avoid one another forever. But how they come together again will be mostly up to Giorno.] Their distrust will have to be controlled until it can be changed.

[He comes close to saying how exactly it should be controlled. Giorno has been cementing the trust of men without Bruno. He knows what he's doing. Treating him as otherwise would be almost patronizing and close to condescending and ultimately unnecessary.]

You'll do what needs to be done, [he says, placing trust, confidence, and, above all else, submission to Giorno. As difficult and as foreign as it is to do.]

[His smile goes, then. The trust, the confidence, the submission - these are things Giorno expects and takes for granted from many people, but not from Bruno. It's an odd, weightless feeling, as though the rug's been tugged out from under him, or gravity has just been reversed and he's standing on the ceiling. It's right, that Bruno acquiesce to his requests, his orders, his unspoken wishes. But it still feels very strange.]

[His fingers curl in the middle of the table, and he watches almost dispassionately, as though the perfect nails digging into the wood are not his own.]

Yes. I will.

[Of course he will. He is don. At home, here, it makes no difference. Just because his domain here is smaller - so far - does not mean he has any less of a need to exert control.]

[He takes a moment, then, to think. Bruno's connection to him could be dangerous. An ally of a man like Giorno - a subordinate of Giorno's - could easily draw parallels to other men, less skilled, perhaps, but more overtly dangerous. And yet keeping the truth from them would be a lie, and could cement any lingering distrust. Giorno would like to protect Bruno, even though he knows he doesn't need it; would like to keep him entirely out of harm's way. Especially given how similar Star Platinum's power is to King Crimson's. But that wouldn't just be unnecessary, it would be an insult.]

[It's harder to decide than he thought it would be. In the end, he thinks he needs more information. It's possible - probable, even - that the two other Stand users might assume a connection between the two of them, with or without proof. They both have Italian names; they have similar demeanors, cautious and untrusting. And Stand users gravitate to other Stand users.]

[His gaze is steady on Bruno for a moment as he thinks silently. Then:]

In the interest of controlling their distrust . . . I need to give you all the information I have. They disclosed it to me freely [more or less], but if you come across them and seem aware of it, they'll assume we know each other. This may not be the wisest course.

Kakyoin and Kujo are friends. They traveled together from Japan to Egypt in the company of several others to kill a man named Dio. [His expression doesn't flicker, not one bit.] This man was a Stand user; his Stand had the power to stop time. This man also killed Kakyoin. Kujo killed him. Kujo's Stand possesses the power to stop time as well.

[He watches Bruno carefully for a reaction, unsure whether or not to expect one. On the one hand, surely he remembers King Crimson as well as Giorno does; on the other hand, Bruno is not one to react when a reaction is unnecessary, or even when it is. He keeps everything locked up tight. Outward calm means almost nothing on Bruno Buccellati.]

[When Giorno begins to speak again after the long silence, Bruno lowers his hand back to the table and turns his head to give his full attention. As could probably be expected, his expression never changes, never falters in its cool neutrality as he listens. But on the inside? He'd like to pretend that he can listen to all of this without having a reaction on the inside. He thinks he should be able to listen to this calmly and without any reaction. He'd accepted his death and death itself didn't particularly frighten Bruno even now with life running through his veins once more. But no amount of telling himself this can stop his skin beginning to crawl the moment he starts describing Dio's Stand, only for it to grow worse when Giorno says Kujo's possesses the same ability. He knows it's not the same as King Crimson. Not exactly. There's also no guarantee that Kujo knows how to use his ability as well as Diavolo had known to utilize King Crimson's abilities.]

[But he can still feel something draining away from him. No. Not really. It's the memory of it. A fist ramming through the center of his chest, breaking flesh, bone, and muscle beyond true repair. The panicked thought of not now, fear of not failure itself but failure to prepare the others, to give them warning and a fighting chance at survival. Life slipping away in large swaths of blood. The fabric of his sleeve is pulled taut as his hand curls into a tight, white-knuckled fist. It's only one ragged exhalation and he has to break eye contact, bowing his head and going perfectly still. The next breath he draws is even and steady as is the one following it. He pushes the pressure in his chest away and focuses for a brief moment the pulse of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.]

Then it sounds like Kakyoin is the one we should be the most careful around. [The words feel a little thick and his tongue heavy, but he lifts his head, loosening his grip on his sleeve.] Kujo's Stand may be the more powerful of the two, but I imagine the well-being of his friend will take precedence over everything else. The easiest way to provoke him into taking action would be anything he'd view as a threat to Kakyoin.

August Test Drive!

C

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