( OPEN ) we’re gonna crash your party

[digiorno]

Who: Giorno & ny’all
When: End of Aguril, all of Septeril
Where: Aefenglom (generally and Bad Decisions Haus); Dorchact for most of Septeril
What: Backdated transformations for Aguril and Giorno doing his best to keep his temper and actually be helpful in Dorchact.
Warnings:


i. you fucked the world up now ( full moon, aguril )

[When he wakes up, he is a bat.]

[This should be more of a dramatic realization than it is. He should wake up and be extremely alarmed or something, probably. But he isn’t. Maybe because he’s sort of been expecting it; most other vampires have already hit this stage, and it seems to be a relatively tolerable one. But maybe it’s because bats simply aren’t capable of the level of drama he operates at ordinarily. Giorno, in bat form, is content enough.]

[But hungry. So it is that, after some time wrestling out from under his own copious blankets, Kaede and Maria’s kitchen is beset by a small hungry menace fluttering upon the counters and searching for fruit. He army-crawls from his awkward landing smushed up against the wall and investigates the sink. Any fruit in here? Where’s the fucking fruit?]

[Later, he can be found dive-bombing innocents who have interesting-looking snacks, or latching onto the cloaks of people he’s familiar with to catch a rest and a ride to somewhere new. Don’t look at him like that. He knows you recognize him, peasant.]

ii. we’ll fuck it all back down ( waning moon, aguril )

[The aftereffects of this moon aren’t as bad as the previous one, although to be fair, not much could be worse than a sudden and uncontrollable need to drink human blood. That’s still bottom-of-the-barrel awful. This month, it’s a minor cosmetic change, one he doesn’t entirely hate — his ears have gone to slight points, easy to hide under his hair or a hat if he absolutely must.]

[And he’s tired. Of course he’s tired, considering everything, but . . . it’s different than the exhaustion other people experience after a full moon. Every month after the moon, his body aches more, moves more awkwardly. Everything takes more effort.]

[Plus, there’s the other thing. His mouth is . . . sensitive. Strangely so. It’s not teething or gum tenderness, exactly; he had that earlier, when his new teeth first came in. No, he just feels better when he’s chewing on something. Which gets embarrassing. Sometimes a guy just wants to hang out in a coffee shop, or in a library, and worry a straw or a pen or something in his teeth without getting funny looks.]

What?

[Okay, or he genuinely has no idea he’s doing it. It could also be that, considering that sometimes what he’s caught chewing on is his own shirt collar.]

iii. we’ll put water in your guns ( dorchact, library )

[Speaking of libraries: one of the few places that seems halfway like a refuge in Dorchact is the library. Hair curling in loose tendrils over his shoulders and down his back, Giorno looks, but for his ever-gaunter appearance, like he belongs here, and even that can be explained away. What can’t so well is the look of horrified disgust he can’t quite school off his face, not yet.]

[He’s been to the barracks. He tried to go undercover there, to pose as a handler, but — he doesn’t know what it was. Maybe she felt how sick he got all of a sudden. But Zelda was there in the back of his head, quiet caution, and — he left. He had to go. There was no way he could stay without blowing everything.]

[Here in the library, he runs shaking fingers bedecked with tri-star rings over the spines of books, pulling some out at random as the thought occurs. History of the military, mostly, and how much of it connects to Morgana Drummond. Should he see any familiar faces, he beckons with the subtle crook of one finger.]

Help me fill in these gaps. [There are so goddamn many, unsurprisingly.]

iv. we’ll do it all for fun ( dorchact, resistance )

[It’s in the company of the Resistance that he feels the most comfortable and the most stable. There’s plenty to be done in Dorchact, but he’s beginning to recognize the flare of his temper and knows that being here, among the people in need, is what suits best at the moment.]

[He strives to be a mirror for his people. There are not his people — but each Monster seeking freedom feels important all the same. Quiet as a mouse, he sits alongside a naga in the shadow of the docks, her trembling uncontrollably at the thought of leaving everything behind and the still-present pull of Dorchact on her mind. Him with a hand on her shoulder, steady; gaze on hers, steady; waiting until she’s ready, until he can help her onto the waiting ship.]

[This is one scene of many. He darts in and out of the Resistance’s many clandestine hideouts, offering a hand here, a word of reassurance there, assistance with logistics in a third place. Sometimes what he offers is a cup of tea or coffee and a moment of quiet.] It’s difficult to be a refugee, [is how he explains this if asked.] The least we can offer is empathy.

v. wildcard

[Since Giorno is in Dorchact this month via Portkey, he’s only available in Aefenglom from Sept. 1-5, but I’m happy to set something then if you’d like. Additionally, I’m happy to write private starters generally, including more everyday survival stuff in Dorchact. Just PM or message at passiones if there’s something you’d like in particular.]

Comments

[fulgency]

[When Giorno nearly goes tumbling off, Ozymandias holds his hand up in the direction Giorno's near-fall would have taken him. A bat may be able to fly, but Ozymandias is not sure how quickly such a small thing could effectively fly when not meaning to leave a perch just yet. He'd much rather not find out just as he would rather not find out if such a fall would be harmful or not.]

Careful... [he chides gently.]

[Ozymandias' hand comes away again once he's certain Giorno isn't going anywhere accidentally. As far as Giorno's adventures into sniffing are concerned, Ozymandias mostly smells of his perfume (a blend of myrrh, cinnamon, and lily) and it's likely Giorno can also smell a lingering scent from recently using magic. What he, unfortunately, will not find is the smell of food.]

[Sorry, bud. There are snacks at home.]

[digiorno]

[Good call, Oswald. Bats have very delicate little baby bones. Good for flying, not so much for falling. Being caught by a giant hand would be much more embarrassing if he were in human shape, but since he's not, he can get away with acting like this is no big deal.]

[As a bat, Giorno still manages to be kind of like a cat.]

[Unfortunately, his sniff ends up leading to a sneezing fit. Pharoahdad smells like perfume goals with a people or even vampire nose, but as a bat it's kind of a lot. Settling back into the fabric of Ozymandias's cloak with a bit of a sulk, Giorno resigns himself to waiting for snacks.]

[Because he will wait. Ozymandias is getting a houseguest whether he likes it or not.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias makes a face at the sneezing fit, leaning his head away a little as while slightly concerned, he also does not want to get bat snot on his face??? Once Giorno seems to settle down though, Ozymandias gives him a very brief rub on the head in...reassurance? Ozymandias doesn't know what to do with a bat, okay. Not a batologist.]

[With that settled, Ozymandias turns his attention back to walking towards home, and eventually, he is walking up the front steps. He stops outside the door, looking at the bat on his shoulder once more.]

What's that modern phrase...? [He frowns a little, trying to summon it from his memory, and his expression immediately brightens once he remembers.] Ah! This is the end of the line, little one.

[He's quite pleased that he was able to remember the expression.]

You should head back to your own home. As expansive as mine might be, it's not very appropriate place for a bat.

[digiorno]

[Tiny bat groan.]

[But no, actually. Despite having mostly fallen asleep on the way over (Pharoah's stride is confident and soothing), Giorno wakes up enough to give a tiny squeak of disapproval. That's cheesy and he disapproves.]

[Know what else he disapproves of? Being told to go home! Screw you, he refuses. Skittering up Ozymandias's neck out of nowhere, he buries himself in the quasi-mullet. Get bent, he's staying.]

[fulgency]

[The bat is a little too quick for Ozymandias to keep him from crawling up his neck and into his hair, his hand only catching air. This could be a problem.]

Come now, do not press your luck with my generosity.

[Lowering his head some, Ozymandias reaches back there for the small bat with both hands; one is to wrap around the bat and the other is to gently pluck him free from any strands of hair he might have latched onto.]

[digiorno]

[No!!! He latches onto Ozymandias's hair with the most determined little claws imaginable. It's going to be painful to pull him off, frankly. That being said, Ozwald's pretty determined, so he can certainly manage it with a little struggle.]

[Upon being extricated from his perch, Giorno proceeds to wrap himself around Ozymandias's finger just as determinedly as he clutched at his hair. A war cry emerges from his tiny bat mouth. He'll bite if pushed further, sir! Let him go inside and have snacks.]

[fulgency]

[It hurts a little prying the little bat out of his hair, but Ozymandias does not do so much as wince during the removal process. He's had far worse than tiny bat claws.]

[Ozymandias doesn't anticipate that the bat will suddenly concede simply after being removed from his hair, and is not surprised to find it so firmly latched onto him. But he does not try to pry the bat from his finger or shake it off. It's less because he's concerned about potential consequences and more that he recognizes that such actions would be cruel to such a small creature.]

You have quite an impressive set of lungs, but I am unmoved. My decision is absolute and final.

[He sets his finger down on the railing of the porch.]

[digiorno]

[Hm.]

[It may, Giorno recognizes, be time to change tactics.]

[He looks up at Ozymandias. Looks down at the railing. Slowly clambers onto it, leaving the finger perch behind. What an obedient bat child this is.]

[Except the second Ozymandias opens the door he fucking bolts for indoors. Bye binch!!!]

[fulgency]

[Regardless of how fast Ozymandias might be able to move or react, there's really no way he could possibly catch a bat that small out of the air. Combining that with the fact he would like to avoid harming the bat, Ozymandias makes no attempt at waving or grabbing and instead simply follows after him as quickly as possible.]

Where do you think you're going!?

[digiorno]

[ZIP ZOOP MOTHERFUCKER. Giorno is flitting up near the high ceilings, cackling in bat. Which sounds the same as shrieking, but it’s pretty clear he’s revelling in his victory. Victory swoops.]

[At the question, he does a little dip of his wings (salute!) and alley-oops down the hall towards the kitchen. How does he know where the kitchen is? Sniff. He wants a mango.]

[fulgency]

[Well, that was quite a pointed and clear trajectory. Far more than Ozymandias would anticipate or expect from such a creature, but that's not really something one notices when dealing with an intruder. Ozymandias is hot on the figurative heels of this little bat. He may want a mango, but the only fruit he's going to find easily sitting out right now are grapes. Does he dare land and risk capture??]

[digiorno]

[HMM.]

[Well, yes and no. Grapes aren't as good as mangoes, but he does want one, so he's going to try a daring maneuver: dive-bombing the counter to grab a grape in his dumb bat feet and flap to a higher vantage point.]

[Will he succeed, or will he be caught by giant pharoah hands???]

[fulgency]

[The risk and reward end up being a little bit of a mixed bag for the small bat. He's able to grab onto a grape and pull it free from its stem, but that's enough to slow him down that Ozymandias gets his hands around him grape and all.]

[There's a brief moment where Ozymandias has to stare at his hands in disbelief that he was actually able to be fast enough to catch such a tiny thing, but once it settles in that he was successful...]

Got you! Ha!

[He knew he would all along??? Do not doubt Pharaoh.]

[digiorno]

[There's an unholy screech that is the bat equivalent of FUCK! Giorno slaps his wings against Ozymandias's palms, but quickly realizes that that's just going to lead to a bruised wing or worse.]

[Irritably, he clutches his grape and continues screeching in fury. For a moment. And then suddenly the screeching is very muffled.]

[Might as well eat this grape while he can. #yolo]

[fulgency]

[It's difficult to tell at first what the hell is happening in his hands. Ozymandias doesn't dare create any opening large enough to see inside at first and waits until the bat seems a little more...settled. At least physically. It still seems to have a lot to say even if muffled.]

[Carefully, Ozymandias tilts his hands and opens them ever so slightly to see... The world's sulkiest bat munching on a grape. Despite that he ought to be more irritated with the intrusion and the thievery, there's something undeniably adorable, especially when considering the bat to fruit size ratio. Laying his hand flat again, he removes his other hand.]

Hungry, were you? [He huffs a laugh before giving gentle head scritches again.] I suppose I shall forgive your rude behavior then. But next time, you ought to try a different tactic for getting your food. One that doesn't involve disobeying Pharaoh, hm?

[He stops scritching to pluck another grape, setting it on his palm next to the bat while he's still working on the first grape.]

[digiorno]

[And so, the consequences of his actions were nothing, and he lived to sin another day.]

[When Ozymandias opens his hand, Giorno goes briefly quiet, staring suspiciously out at him. But as it turns out, all that happens is that he . . . gets head scritches again. Oh.]

[Oh, and another grape? Oh man. Okay, so he'll just do this exact thing again in the future? This is amazing. This goes without saying, but he's certainly stopped screeching by now. Leaning into the scritches, he munches contentedly on grape #1 with half-closed eyes, resting his claw on grape #2. Yay.]

[fulgency]

[Oymandias cannot help but notice the way the little bat in his hand idly rests a claw on the second grape. Not that there could be much that he could do if Ozymandias changed his mind and pulled the second grape away. But it is still a fairly possessive nonverbal.]

I won't take it away from you, [he chides gently.] You have my permission to eat to your fill. I will not have it be said that I am stingy or inhospitable.

[digiorno]

[What. What is this. Blinking his eyes open, Giorno regards Ozymandias uncertainly. He . . . doesn't want to let go of his grape. It's his grape.]

[After some thought, he does let go of it, only to follow this up by putting the other claw on it. It's fine!]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias shakes his head a little, but chooses to let it be. The tiny bat may possessively hold onto its grape all it likes.]

You're fortunate that I appear to be the only one home for now.

[Not that he thinks Berserker would necessarily go after this little bat, but his patience and tolerance for things he deems annoying is not exactly The Best.]