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!
no subject
[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.
no subject
["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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[Whether Dio killed them by his own hand or no, it was his responsibility, his fault. And so, in some abstract and perhaps unfair way, it's Giorno's fault, too. He accepts this.]
[He accepts, too, the viciousness of the last statement, his eyes showing nothing but a clear reflection of Jotaro's own emotion. He doesn't take it personally; how could he? Jotaro has shown a remarkable amount of restraint thus far, and this, this reaction, this anger, is what Giorno has expected from the start.]
[He doesn't search for something to say, either. If something comes to him, then it comes. If it doesn't, then it doesn't. This is no time for platitudes, less for apologies, because what does an apology do? It doesn't bring back the dead and gone. It doesn't soothe wounds. It makes sounds in the air, nothing more.]
[All Giorno does, for the moment, is tug one petal after another off the lily, rubbing his thumb against the smoothness of it, in sharp contrast with the dusty grit of pollen from the stamen. He doesn't let them fall, but collects them in one hand. It's a perverse thing to do, in his mind, killing something he's brought to life. But he does it anyway.]
[In the end, all he says is--]
Thank you for telling me this.
no subject
[He brings a hand up to the brim of his hat, jams the other into his pocket so he can make it into a fist without risking that doing so will suggest some sort of implicit threat. There's still a hole ripped in the front of the cap, hidden among the similar color of his hair. He wonders if that's something Giorno's Stand could fix, the way it had turned a pebble into a flower. He's sure that at this point, he could ask for just about anything on that nature and Giorno would give it to him, though his motivations for doing so would be his own.
He doesn't know if he'd ask for it to be fixed. It's a part of him, and it's been scarred like the rest of him. Making it go away like magic seems wrong.
Why? It doesn't make any sense. Why was he the only one who'd had the power to stand a chance? Who decided that? Why give it to him? Why hadn't he learned to use it sooner? Why hadn't they done something differently? Why did they have to die — for what? What was the point?
He's going to scare this kid, if he's not careful. Or he's going to do something he'll regret, and that will be worse.
So he breathes slowly, and tries to clamp down on all the memories rushing back and threatening to swallow him. It can fuck him up later, that's fine, just not now and not here.]
Do you know what his Stand did? I'm guessing not. Do you want to?
no subject
[This would not be a comforting thing to say. It wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't help. And besides, in what way is it up to Dio's son to provide cold comfort to Dio's murderer? It's just as perverse as willful destruction of life, from all sides and perspectives, and so Giorno doesn't.]
[He watches, instead, observes intently as he always does before making a move. He notes the way Jotaro clamps his fingers into a tight fist, the anger there, but the caution, too. He notes every pause, every careful breath. He notes that Jotaro is going out of his way not to alarm him, as though he owes Giorno anything.]
[It might make more sense to someone else. But Giorno is used to having to earn respect, kindness, even the barest human decency. So it seems strange, unnatural even, and he finds himself wanting to respond in kind even more than he would normally. He isn't concerned about Jotaro frightening him; he doesn't think he could, no matter how angry or violent he got. He doesn't believe that he needs protecting. But - perhaps Jotaro does.]
I do want to. But . . .
[He glances sideways, letting his gaze rest for a moment on Star Platinum, who must have dealt the final blow; he lets his eyes rest on those fists, and he smiles again, soft and bittersweet. Part of him wants to say thank you. Part of him . . . he doesn't know.]
I don't want to hurt you. [This is the plainest way to put it, he thinks, as he looks back at Jotaro.] These are bad memories. They can't be pleasant to relive. Looking at me, maybe that hurts, too. I did have the picture, I know there are - similarities.
So if you want to talk about something else, we can. If you want to talk about nothing, we can. If you want me to leave, I will, without hesitation.
no subject
[He's got a point, honestly. It is hard to look at him (and never harder than when he smiles, that one damn smile, it reminds him too strongly of the one he'd had to look at too often while he was suspended in time, aching to swing and punch it right off and wholly unable to do so), and talking about this is steadily becoming too much. That much was probably inevitable, no matter what method he tried toward keeping it in check, making it manageable.
It was still only days ago that it all even happened. Kakyoin's had months to begin to wind down, lonely though they were. Dio has been dead for years, by Giorno's reckoning. He hasn't even had the chance for the sound of the vampire's voice to fade from his memory, himself; sometimes he can still hear it, as strong and clear as if he were really standing there talking.
...But he doesn't want Giorno Giovanna to leave. For this to change, maybe, but not to end, and it's at least in part because — ]
...Ever had something you couldn't tell anyone? Not because you were ashamed, or you thought they wouldn't listen. Just because...you know there's no way you can say it, to make them understand it the way they'd have to, and watching them not understand it is just going to make it worse?
[ — because it was so quiet in Dio's world between time, and he doesn't want to be alone in his memories right now.]
no subject
[The stem of the denuded lily twirls between his fingers as Giorno listens. He feels as stripped bare in this moment as it is, and these aren't even his memories; Jotaro must be feeling a thousand times worse.]
[The question presented does make his heart ache a little bit, though. To make them understand in the way they'd have to . . . to make them know it as you know it, to feel it as though they'd lived it, to hold the guilt and the grief and the confusion and loss in their own two hands. Such an impossible thing to attempt, because no one can really know what you've experienced. Every man is an island inside his own head.]
[Of course, is the answer to that question; of course. There is a reason he doesn't talk about his father. It's not because he's ashamed, and lately he's had plenty of people who would listen. It's that there is simply no way to communicate the nature of his relationship with this man he's never met, or how Dio's legacy affects him every day, how it's shaped him or, conversely, the ways in which he's refused to let it affect him at all.]
[He nods, and passes the stem of the lily back over his shoulder to Gold Experience.]
Yes. I have. It . . . creates a malignant space inside, in my experience. Something very hard to ignore.
no subject
Kakyoin is the one person he doesn't think he can stand to tell.
But it would be nice to say it, just once, and whether he realizes it or not, Giorno has given him an opportunity, and proved to be a person adept enough at reading between the lines that he won't need to say much in order to say everything.]
I could show you the secret of his Stand.
[It's simple, quiet. Oddly, it's not wracked with tension and grief. It's just nine words that barely scratch the surface of something he's on a long and difficult road toward accepting.]
no subject
[He still isn't entirely sure what to make of that.]
[Still. He does want to know. He wants Jotaro to be able to share it. He wants to understand what made his father so powerful, nigh-unbeatable, what allowed him to hurt so many people and get away with it, until Jotaro put an end to him.]
[So he nods - of course he does - and on his next blink, Gold Experience is gone, and so is the lily; the only thing left is a ladybug, crawling across Giorno's shoulder.]
Tell me what to do.
no subject
It makes it a little easier, the thought of doing it in front of someone. Prior to this, his only viable option was Kakyoin, and for obvious reasons, Kakyoin is no option at all.]
Talk. Tell me something; your favorite color. Something about Italy. Whatever you want, just start talking.
[Talking, unknowingly, will give Giorno a frame of reference for the passage of time. It'll make it all the more apparent, just how instantaneously the world will have changed, how futile an attempt at planning a defense would really be.]
no subject
[Even now, he doesn't speak without purpose. His favorite color is inconsequential; Italy, without context or love, is just another place. So his mind goes to safer places, and he begins to speak, quietly but intently.]
My family and I rescued a girl named Trish. She's my age, the daughter of my enemy; we were supposed to take her back to him. We didn't. She's my right hand now, she's saved my life so many times. Have you ever met someone who felt like family right away? I have. She wasn't like that. We had to work at it, because she didn't trust us and we didn't trust her, but somewhere along the way it fell into place, and then it was as though we'd always known each other.
[And more; there's plenty more to say, but he's focused now on Jotaro, waiting for the other shoe to drop.]
no subject
All of a sudden, it's quiet again. Everything is still. No leaves are rustling, no passerby are chattering, the rhythm and pulse of the city's general existence have gone silent. Giorno has gone silent, too, and he doesn't know it. He'll never know it, not until it's already done.
This quiet place in the space between time was once Dio's world. It's his now. This is yet another inheritance he didn't want.
Quietly, he reaches into his pocket, finds the half-used package of cigarettes he'd been digging for earlier. That, he suspends in midair where he's been standing, watching it freeze in place once he takes his fingers off of it.
Then, he simply turns and walks another few paces away, with Star Platinum dutifully following him. He makes sure it's far enough away to be immediately noticeable. He also makes sure it's close enough that he'll be able to hear how Giorno finishes that sentence; he sort of wants to hear the answer that's going to follow that because, once he has the chance to finish it.
Might as well give him that chance.
Time will resume.
The world moves again, and the cigarette pack falls.]
no subject
[His eyes catch on the pack in midair, watches it fall, and his voice hitches in alarm, almost breaking before he reels it in; but he keeps talking, despite the voice screaming in the back of his head, Diavolo Diavolo Diavolo, die die die.]
--but somewhere along the way it fell into place, and then--
[Jotaro is over there, not far, close enough that if Giorno didn't know he paid close attention to everything, he might be able to trick himself into thinking he'd just missed the movement. But no. It's crystal-clear: time stopped, and Jotaro moved in the space between seconds, set up the pack to catch Giorno's eye deliberately, to show him how it worked.]
[Not Diavolo, then. King Crimson did not stop time, it erased it; things still happened in the time elapsed, so Giorno would have finished speaking, he would have moved slightly, minor gesticulations moving his hands through the air. Not Diavolo.]
[His heart rate returns to normal, his voice going level, quiet.]
--it was as though we'd always known each other.
[He looks from the pack on the ground in front of him to Jotaro, the whole of him and then directly into his eyes. Tellingly, Gold Experience is still nowhere in sight.]
How is it that you have my father's Stand?
no subject
That's different. Different is reassuring.
And Giorno's impressed him, which is something he doesn't bother to hide or try to suppress; it's bewildering and unsettling to see the world change around you in no time at all, but Gold Experience never appears, even when he's fully expecting the Stand to emerge and defend the way that it had before. That's impressive.
Amidst his whirlwind of memory and trauma and repressed emotion, there's one feeling that's rapidly becoming clear, and it's comforting in its simplicity:
He's starting to like Giorno Giovanna.]
I don't. Star Platinum is mine, and has always been.
[He pauses, casting a glance in his Stand's direction. Even in the moments when he hasn't been sure what the dynamic of their relationship is, the mine has never been something he's questioned.]
I don't know why they were the same. If there's a reason, I never heard it. But when he would use The World...I could see him as he moved. I could watch what he did.
That was where we fought, for a lot of it. In his world between moments in time.
no subject
[There's a small burst of relief in his chest at that, a release of tension he didn't realize he was holding on to. Had he wanted to impress Jotaro that badly? Maybe. It would be - vindication, in some sense.]
[But that isn't something he needs to focus on now. Instead, he focuses on what Jotaro is saying, about Star Platinum, about - The World. His brow furrows slightly. What a thing to call a Stand . . . and he has to wonder who named it, Dio or someone else, and whether it truly belonged to Dio or to the Kujo ancestor previously mentioned, the one that provided him with a body. It's convoluted and disgusting to think about, and Jotaro probably doesn't have the answers, but he can't not analyze every angle. He's received more information about his father in the last fifteen minutes than he's ever had in his life, and he has to understand it, for reasons even he can't put his finger on.]
Completely alone.
[He doesn't need to say it out loud. He's quite sure Jotaro will understand that he understands, words or no words. But he says it anyway, and leaves the rest implied - that he can imagine, in the absolute silence of timelessness, hearing only the echo of his father's laugh, seeing only his smile, and knowing that you are going to die in time between time, that someone you love will blink, open their eyes, and see you dead.]
[There is no way to communicate that perfectly, it's true. But Giorno can imagine. He is trying very hard right now to imagine.]
[He takes a step forward, leans down to pick up the cigarette pack, then straightens and turns it over in his hands.]
The man I mentioned before - Trish's father - he was . . . evil. Not as powerful as my father, but his Stand was similar. It deleted time instead of stopping it, and he wasn't clever or charismatic. Not like my father.
[Not like me.]
But I remember - the hiccups. Time being eaten away. That's why I wasn't surprised. I thought it was him for a moment, but I wasn't surprised.
[He steps forward again and holds the pack out to Jotaro.]
You will not be alone again. [It has the tone of a command - not to Jotaro, but to the world, a listen here and obey me, I will not be ignored. He will not allow it to happen. Not anymore.]
no subject
[And it's obvious that he's already begun to say something else by the time he stops himself and thinks better of it, but there's an odd character to the way he pauses the thought — like he's only put it on hold to think about it a little longer, rather than biting it off because of a realization that came too late.
What he'd almost said was, if it bothers you, but that's stupid to start with. Giorno has seen something similar wielded by a man he doesn't hesitate to call evil. And it's the kind of thing that no person should ever be all that comfortable with, anyway.
So he tries again, searches for better words that will more gracefully fit what it is he actually means.]
I'm not going to use it to put myself above other people. I've decided that much. So you can ask me not to use it around you, and I'll respect it.
[He reaches forward, taking the cigarettes and pocketing them — and then offers the same hand again, empty and outstretched, in a gesture of greeting that's long overdue.]
When you're done here, come with me. There's someone else you should meet, if you're going to be staying.
no subject
[It would bother him, of course. Any reminder of Diavolo makes him feel sick, sick and angry, makes him remember all the deaths in his family, all the unnecessary pain. It makes him remember, too, the way Diavolo died, and kept dying, and will keep dying - though he isn't in Italy anymore, Diavolo will continue to die, forever and ever until the end of time.]
[His expression sets into something hard and too-old, but he nods all the same.]
I understand. But if I asked you to do that, I wouldn't respect myself. I have to face what he was every day, back home. I won't push away all reminders of him here and make myself weak.
[Sacrifices of comfort are commonplace to him now. It doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the gesture; it's just that he can't accept it.]
[He does take Jotaro's hand in his, though, and shakes it. He has a politician's handshake, perfectly firm, dry-palmed, so impeccably timed that it's almost possible to ignore how small and thin-fingered his hand is, like a child's.]
I'm done. Whatever there is here . . . I don't think it's as important as anything you could show me.
no subject
You will not be alone again, he'd said. Good. He's pretty sure he could do a lot worse than the companionship of someone like this.
Speaking of which...]
All right, then.
[He notes that handshake, practiced and smooth — like he does it a lot, and he's never actually asked what it is that Giorno does in Italy but between these little references and nods to things like evil men, to a girl that acts as his right hand, to the way he squares his shoulders like he's daring the world to challenge him and the way he shakes hands like it's second nature, it's enough to at least posit the educated guess that it's far bigger than anyone might guess from looking at him, and unlike his own rich tapestry of history, it's probably something Giorno set out to pursue for himself.
Yeah. He likes that, too.
When his hand comes away, he returns it to his pocket out of habit, and lets Star Platinum disappear again, nodding once at Giorno before turning his footsteps in the direction of the place he still can't quite think of as home, save for the fact that there's one person there who makes it feel like it might be someday.]
Come on. I'll introduce you to my best friend.