Ruby City Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rubycity_ooc2015-08-02 10:42 am
rubycitymods) wrote in rubycity_ooc2015-08-02 10:42 am
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!
you're the boss of everything else but not me
What helps, sort of, is that it hasn't been all that long since Jotaro himself arrived in the city, and the way the boy is acting resonates with that, once he's settled his kneejerk alarm enough to look for it. It's reasonable enough to assume now that he really doesn't know the identity of the person he's looking at; it's reasonable enough to believe that he really is new.
As someone who's just been surprised by an unknown Stand user, he's — reacting exactly the way he should be, isn't he.
The new insight adds perspective to the confrontation, makes a lot more of the nuances make sense. The boy is calm but wary; he's probably not going to jump to attack, but instead will wait to see what his aggressor's first move might be.
That's sort of a new thing to wrap his head around — the notion that he's the threat in this situation.
But that's what fits, so maybe that's the angle he needs to be trying here.]
...You seem like the memorable type. Also the type who makes sure people know who you are.
[Impulsively, he guides Star Platinum to fall back a few steps, sliding his hands into his pockets in search of the pack of cigarettes that ought to be there.]
Since I've got no idea, I'm guessing we've never met before.
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[Just because Jotaro isn't entirely an idiot doesn't mean Giorno's about to let his guard down, however. If anything, good observational skills indicate even more of a danger, yet another reason to keep on his toes.]
[Gold Experience takes a step back, then another, to stand at Giorno's side, its posture loosening fractionally as Giorno's does. After another moment, he crosses his arms over his chest and shifts his weight, a graceful movement that nevertheless ends with him looking more like a sulky teenager and less like a miniature don. This is, of course, deliberate.]
What made you think we'd have met before in the first place? I don't know anybody in this city.
[Do you? he wonders, but keeps it to himself. A question like that could be perceived as a threat; if someone asked him on first acquaintance, he would think of Mista, of Trish, and would lash out instinctively to keep them safe.]
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There is, after all, a reason he's not going to say that there are only supposed to be two Stand users in this city, and that's what gave this boy away as an outsider. That math is too easy — and it paints a target on Kakyoin, unknowing and unsuspecting, which is something he'll never allow.]
You're a Stand user. People like that have a way of crossing paths.
[Whether by accident or by design, and usually the latter. And usually someone else's design.]
I'm Jotaro Kujo. Guess that means you know me, now.
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[This isn't going the way Giorno would have liked it to. If he were at home, he would have the capacity for surveillance, the luxury of taking his time, and although he would not be invisible - he is not Diavolo - he would, at least for a while, be unreachable. Here, Jotaro towers over him, and he is forced to rely only on himself.]
[Well. Back to basics, then.]
[Jotaro Kujo. He's heard that before, and sets the back of his mind to remembering where. In the meantime, his expression doesn't register any surprise; he just nods again and regards Jotaro calmly.]
Giorno Giovanna. Are you going to remember that?
[This last almost a tease, though his lips don't even twitch.]
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Giorno Giovanna. He's young, but confident. Presumably Italian. He wonders, idly, if the Speedwagon Foundation is aware of him — not that it matters much here, anyway.]
If I say no, I bet the first thing you'll do is give me a reason to.
[Which is why he isn't saying no. There's pride in everything this kid does, pride and confidence and self-assurance. Acknowledging that is probably the way to get somewhere.]
What about your Stand?
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[Still, he tips his head and allows a smile now, not the cruel and vaguely feral one of before, but a boy's smile, quiet and a little mischievous.]
I probably would, yes.
[He turns to his Stand, then, and Gold Experience shifts its weight, its lidless eyes focused on Jotaro.]
This is Gold Experience Requiem. It seems like you might have a lot of questions. Please don't hesitate to ask them.
[Who knows? Giorno might even answer truthfully.]
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[Gold Experience Requiem. Not a tarot card and not a god. It also doesn't give any insights as to what its powers might be, but there's something about the name that just...fits. The way that Hierophant Green fits Kakyoin; the way that Silver Chariot fits Polnareff. The way that Avdol had named his Star Platinum, and that had been right, too.
There's one question he can ask, he knows, that will get immediately to the point of this. It'll also escalate the encounter immediately back to that knife's edge they've now left, if it goes the wrong way, and he's not entirely sure he wants to push things to that point just yet.
No. For once, let's try it slow and easy, first.]
You're from Italy? Or just have Italian relatives?
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Neither, actually. I moved to Italy when I was young, but I'm not Italian. Japanese on my mother's side.
[Which is the only side worth mentioning. And as he speaks, that piece finally clicks. Jotaro Kujo. He remembers - a small young man, phone receiver cradled in his hand, insisting on making a call, giving away Giorno's information and ending his dream in a sentence or two. Koichi had mentioned someone named Kujo, ever so briefly, and Giorno had ignored it for the most part, because his goal was never to speak with him or see him or allow him to know of his existence at all, and yet - here, in this place that isn't home, is Jotaro Kujo and his towering Stand.]
[Again, he doesn't react. Much. His lips do tighten fractionally, but otherwise he manages to keep his composure. He had thought - older, more like a man and less like an angry boy, but equally as imposing, equally as dangerous. He'll have to think about this.]
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Japanese on his mother's side — did that make it the important half, the way that he himself was so inextricably tangled up in the legacy of his mother's family?
He thinks of that smile, the way it's changed throughout the conversation; he considers the way his posture has shifted, the transformations in attitude, the almost playful way of inviting questions.
Giorno Giovanna...is the sort of person who seeks to control the situation, no matter what situation he's in.
So maybe it's not what he says that makes the difference, but what he doesn't say, and smooths over so you won't notice.]
I wonder if you've heard of my dad. He's pretty famous, if you like his kind of music.
[It's meaningless, irrelevant. But the point has nothing to do with his father, and everything to do with seeing what Giorno says in response to it.]
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[It's through sheer force of will that he keeps Gold Experience from moving to stand between them again, although the Stand's gaze does shift to lock on Star Platinum now, watching its every fractional movement. Giorno's smile becomes vaguely apologetic, and he pulls his braid over his shoulder, fiddling with the loose end of it as though embarrassed.]
I'm sorry, it's been - a very long time since I was in Japan. Italy is my home now. You could say I've put down roots.
[Far away from Japan, far away from Dio; he started over with a new name, a new identity, a new dream. His thumb brushes over the place where he knows his birthmark rests under his shirt, and he takes uncertain strength from it.]
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What is he missing?
He couldn't be affiliated with Dio. He'd have revealed himself by now, tried to attack. Unless maybe he knew his boss had been killed? They'd been hired guns, most of them; maybe he'd recognized the name and was playing dumb to try to avoid retribution? Alone, stranded, defenseless, and faced with one of the Joestars that had come to defeat his boss...that'd give him plenty of reason to be wary and feign ignorance, wouldn't it?
It's a long shot, but maybe it's worth trying, anyway. He's been trying to avoid escalating this, but given the subtle cues and tells in the way Giorno is acting, it's heading in that direction anyway, whether he likes it or not.]
...I don't suppose you've heard of a guy named Dio, then, either.
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[For the hundredth time in this conversation, he struggles to control his expression. For the first time, he fails utterly, some mad combination of fear and fury and resentment and frustration lashing across his face. It solidifies quickly into determination, pride buoying him up until he feels capable of facing Jotaro without hesitation, but not before he knows he's revealed himself.]
I've never met anyone by that name.
[Which is, in its own way, acknowledgment of the truth. He never met Dio. If he had, he'd probably be dead. This doesn't mean that Dio doesn't echo through his entire being every minute of every day. His father doesn't define him, but he is present, a constant reminder of what not to be.]
[Behind him, Gold Experience half-crouches, ready to move between them at an instant's notice. He can smell a fight. It's only a matter of time now.]
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[It takes all his willpower not to call Star Platinum forward, at that point, and that's because every instinct of his is screaming for him to do exactly that, and it's only through a conscious override of those feelings that he can hold Star back. His Stand has grown less violent as he's settled in to its use; it's not quite the same character that it was the first time he'd used it in a serious fight. But he's never forgotten its potential for that, and Star Platinum is an extension of himself, a reflection of who and what he is.
It's the same reason, he knows, that Gold Experience Requiem is moving, too — responding to everything he sees crossing Giorno Giovanna's face.
And for all that Giorno has given the impression of control throughout the conversation, Jotaro knows that in this one moment, the way that this will go is resting entirely on his shoulders. This is the moment when the balance will tip in one direction or another; and it's up to him to know which way it will go.
And for a moment, images rush through his mind — fangs and a golden jacket, an ugly scar ripping across the column of a neck, the mangled remains of Kakyoin's body and the withered, dry shape of a corpse that used to be his grandfather, knives glinting in midair, a mocking countdown, lying frozen on the bridge and watching death come crashing down at him from above —
He understands now, why that smile had looked so familiar.]
Don't do something we're going to both end up regretting.
[He doesn't take his eyes off of Giorno's face.
He does, however, take one smooth step backwards, and adds another stride's worth of space to the distance between them.]
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[It terrifies him, but it also seems very right. He doesn't want to have to explain himself. Not now, not here, not like this.]
[Jotaro steps back, and Giorno - doesn't relax, couldn't relax, not at this point, but he does step back himself. His movements are mirrored again by Gold Experience, who retreats until its back is mere inches from the obelisk.]
[There's a pause as he watches Jotaro carefully, waiting for any sign of an attack - and then he laughs, light and buoyant and a little shaky. There's a tint of Dio's laugh in his, but Dio never sounded relieved.]
Would you regret it?
[A thousand questions implied here: what did he do to you? why? how? when? what did you lose? what part of your life did he crush? why did you send someone after me? who do you think I am?]
[He asks none of them. It isn't his time or his place.]
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The answer to that question, he knows instinctively, is both yes and no. Would he regret a fight right now? On some level, no — but only because fighting was on some level simpler than talking, because it would give him an outlet for all of the things he's feeling and a face to vent them on, a face with a smile that turns up like Dio's and brings fifty days' worth of memories rushing back in an instant.
But he'd regret everything else. The before and the after, the loss of control that had prompted it in the first place. He'd regret what it would make him into, attacking someone who'd done nothing more to him than tease a little, and recognize a name.
He'd regret that it'd bring him one step closer to a man who'd seen someone else's family as a threat, and done heinous things just because he'd believed it was his right as the superior person.
No.
He's enough like Dio as it is.]
I never asked for this.
[Somehow, he has a feeling that will resonate with the young man he's watching like a hawk.]
I want it to be over. So don't give me a reason to start it up again.
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[But he never asked to have something like Dio as his father. He didn't ask for the weight that bore, or the duty to overcome it. In another world, if things had worked out differently, he might have been able to be a child.]
[In another world, where his father had never existed . . . how many people would have been able to stay children as long as they should have?]
[He exhales, slow and steady, and regains at least a little bit of his composure. There's no laughter now, no smiling. Just Giorno, who is a boy with power but still a boy all the same, who has to look quite a ways up to meet Jotaro's eyes.]
I only ever had a picture. I have no reason - less than no reason to fight for him. And I've fought my battles, too, against men that . . . I believe are worlds different from you.
It can be over.
[He's enough like Dio as it is. Ruthless, vicious, obsessive, cruel. But he won't engage in unnecessary violence, and he won't start a new war. Not now. Not like this.]
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[That much, at least, is still something of a mystery. He moved to Italy when he was young, only ever had a picture — something isn't adding up. Dio hadn't returned long enough ago for Giorno to be as old as he is now; he couldn't have been more than a few years old at the time of the confrontation in Cairo. He's certainly more than a few years old now.
...So does he know Jotaro Kujo as the man who killed his father, or as something else?
That raises a somewhat sickening thought of its own. If the person Giorno Giovanna is remembering is the Jotaro Kujo of years in the future...then he has no way of knowing for sure whether he'd been right to be apprehensive or not.
Does he really want to know, who or what he might become in the years to come?]
...There's something about me that makes you nervous. That's been making you nervous, since you figured it out. Which part is it?
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[It rankles, being called nervous. It's not untrue, but he ought to be more composed than this, to keep himself from showing such vulnerability, especially in front of a stranger. He sets his jaw in an effort to settle himself and reminds himself, over and over in his head, that Jotaro does not want to fight him.]
You sent someone to find me. A young man named Koichi Hirose. I can only assume that you wanted to track me down because of my father.
I wasn't afraid of you. But I didn't want you to know about me, either, because I was certain that you'd stop me from doing what I needed to do. So I asked Koichi not to tell you he found me. I don't believe he did.
. . . I don't quite know why.
[Except that he does. The same charisma that lived in Dio lives in him, the part of his inheritance that he's always been able to make the most use out of. That's what he assumes made Koichi's mind up, anyway.]
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[...Yet. But maybe he will, someday. A young man he'd trust with something like this? Someone he'd send to Italy, to find a Stand user he thought was related to Dio?
...He didn't simply go himself. That's telling, somehow.
He has a life, in the future. A life after Egypt. A young man whose name he doesn't know (but will), who he'd trust with something like this.
He's never really thought about life after Egypt. Maybe it's never really occurred to him that he even could have one.
He reaches up absently, drawing one hand out of the depths of his pocket to rub absently at his shoulder, fingers skimming over the raised edges of the birthmark there.
It takes him a few seconds before he realizes, belatedly, that he's not the only one who'd done that at one time or another in this conversation.]
How much do you know about your father?
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Very little. Most of my information came from my mother, and she . . .
[Was not a strong woman. Was drawn habitually to unpleasant or dangerous men. Didn't want to talk about Giorno's father, not really, because what was there to discuss? How do you talk to your son about an encounter like that, about escaping an ecstatic death with the barest chance?]
[His laughter comes again, soft.]
She was biased.
I have the picture, as I said. I learned . . . enough to sketch a picture. To know where I could learn from him, and where I wanted my path to diverge.
I know he was a monster. I know that. But I imagine you might know better?
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It'd make him feel better to do it, probably. For a little while. It'll also be a lot of things that Giorno will never be able to unhear, no matter how well he copes with the knowledge of them.
I know he was a monster, he'd said. More likely than not he doesn't know the half of it.
I know where I wanted my path to diverge. That's what makes the difference — literally and figuratively.
There's a lot he could say at this point in time, and most of it, he's not going to. Maybe he will someday, slowly, in measured explanations and quiet exchanges because Giorno has the right to know if he wants to, but only if he wants to, and not because someone else decided to dump the weight of it onto him to make themselves feel better.
For now, he considers how much will be enough.]
From the neck down, the body he was using originally belonged to an ancestor of mine. My family started developing our Stands because he got his; it passed down the bloodline. The one my mom got started killing her.
There were five of us, that went after him. Six later. I don't trust Stand users when I see them because every one I've met has been trying to claim the price Dio put on my head, at least at first. It's not really a habit you break out of easily.
I wasn't in it for the family legacy shit. He was killing my mom, that was all. Then he killed some of my friends, and I was in it for that, too.
[He stops, and pauses the little story with a breath. It's not hard to see where this is going; they could probably both use that extra space to prepare for it.]
In the end it was always going to be him or me. There were a lot of moments when it was almost me.
You have the right to know that I'm the guy who killed him. It's up to you to decide what you want to do with that.
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[He can't separate himself from this, not with the frank way Jotaro is telling the story, the simple and straightforward words he chooses, the pain he's hiding. He certainly doesn't feel righteous. If he were even a fraction less strong, the entire story would make him feel very small, less-than, unworthy.]
[But he knows he is worthy, and so he bears up under the pressure, and he does not break eye contact.]
[Not even when Jotaro says ancestor. His hand slips under his suit jacket and his shirt to rub at his birthmark, not a light touch this time, heavy pressure, to ground him, to remind him that he is present and he is himself. He inhales, exhales, and listens, does not break eye contact.]
[Not even when Jotaro tells him that he killed his father. It's not surprising. There was a certain inevitability to the story, a sense of fate, of destiny that Jotaro would not have been able to escape. It was easier, in a way, for Giorno to step away from his own legacy, because the only thing riding on it was his sense of self, not anyone else's survival. If it had been Bruno or Narancia or Abbacchio relying on him - maybe he would have given in to Dio's legacy quite a bit more.]
[He smiles again, his expression laced with grief - because he is human - and pride - this time, not in himself, but in Jotaro.]
I thought that might be the case. I think . . . it's not up to me to do anything about it. What would I do? Get revenge? He was never my family. He was more of a threat to me than anything else. I still don't fully understand how I lived until an age when I was capable of defending myself.
[There were a lot of moments when it was almost me. So much pain there. Giorno is not exactly kind; he can be merciful, loving towards those who love him, but he's no good Samaritan. Still, if he could, if it wouldn't be an invasion and an intrusion that might weaken a tentative, unspoken alliance, he would reach out and lay his hand on Jotaro's shoulder, communicate some manner of strength between the two of them.]
[As it is, it's bare instinct to reach into his pocket and pull out a pebble he picked up on the way to the obelisk, hand it over his shoulder to Gold Experience. In a moment, a lily is draped over his shoulder in return, fragrant and fresh; he breathes it in and allows the sensory experience to distract him from the confusion of pain he's feeling now, pain he doesn't feel he has any right to.]
You can tell me more, Mr. Kujo. If it would help. I'm stronger than I look.
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["Mr. Kujo", like he's someone responsible. Like he knows what he's doing.
There are two things that Giorno does that don't escape his notice. It likewise doesn't escape his notice that Giorno hasn't tried to disguise either of them, the touch to a birthmark he suspects is resting on his shoulder, and the power of his Stand. If his intention was to put the latter on display, it's been a graceful and almost artful way of doing it. It reminds him of Kakyoin a little, in a way he can't quite place — something about the ease of the way he interacts with Gold Experience, he can tell that it's different from how he reacts himself to Star Platinum, different the way that Kakyoin and Hierophant are different.
Gold Experience...changes things into other things?
That's oddly fitting, for someone who wants his own path to diverge.]
I've been asking most of the questions so far. I'm sure you've got plenty, too, so ask what you want. I'll tell you want you want to know.
[Maybe it'll be better on both sides that way. It'll keep him in check, and give him the relief of not having to try to decide how much is enough or too much. And it'll give Giorno the control to determine exactly what he wants to take on, and what he wants to leave alone for now.]
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[Perhaps a sign of his increasing comfort in this situation that he's willing to tease again, even if it's perfectly true. Jotaro as he imagined him in his own world and his own time was an adult, intimidating and powerful, with more people at his disposal than Giorno could imagine at the time. More than that, he was someone who wanted to shut Giorno down, kill his dream, and that made him something close to an enemy.]
[He would like to think that the Jotaro Kujo standing in front of him now isn't an enemy, or at least has the potential not to be one. So he twirls the stem of the lily between his fingers and amends:]
Jotaro. My apologies.
[Not really, though.]
[He does have questions, though; of course he does. He has so many questions that he doesn't know how to prioritize them, where to start. For a moment he lets Jotaro's offer hang in the air, considering, and then he decides to turn the offer on its head, switch it around so that it will allow Jotaro (he hopes) to place more of his burden on his shoulders.]
You said my father killed your friends. I would like to hear about those friends, please.
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[He hesitates briefly, not sure if he wants to name names. What he chooses to trust Giorno with should be his own affair; if he puts himself out on that gamble, that's his choice. Giving up the rest of them, even the names of the dead, is something different. Especially when he knows firsthand that the dead can be brought here, besides.]
One of them was with us from the beginning. The man who named my Stand.
[The man who'd launched an unrelenting assault from the corridor of the jail — and then immediately ceased the moment his feet were outside. Mr. Joestar, I got him out of the cell as requested.
What a bastard, that Avdol. They'd all ended up proving to be bastards worth liking.]
The other was our sixth, the one who joined up with us late. He's the reason we were able to find your father's hideout in the first place.
[That damn dog. Even for all the trouble he'd given them...in the end he'd been one of them, too.
It's the last one that's going to be the hardest, he knows, and that's why he saves it for last, because a conversation he'd had with that last one still sometimes rings in his ears, and chokes him on the bitter truth of what he'd said.
It had to be me. It couldn't have been anyone else.
Knowing that, it turns out, doesn't make it any more okay.]
...The one he killed himself was my best friend. We didn't know the secret of your father's Stand. That friend...forced his hand. Put him in a position where he'd have to show it.
He died to give me a chance. Your dad punched a hole through him.
[He didn't have to include that last bit. He does, because this is one thing he still can't contain his fury about, not entirely.]
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