( 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

[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.]