[Yakitori. Meat impaled on sharp little sticks. That is what his mind first zeroes in on, because that is the piece of information that Giorno chose to share with him. Will choose to share with him, someday, if they ever find a way to slip out of the fog's grasp and return to their Napoli.
They say it helped me to grow, but that's hard to see. Can you sympathize at all?]
[They haven't spoken about Haruno. But Fugo hasn't forgotten him. He doesn't think he'll ever forget Haruno or the impassive child who would one day answer to Reira. Or Riley. His memory of her in the bathroom, eyes wet with unshed tears and jaw tight with the effort to keep quiet as she struggled to wrap up half-a-dozen pinprick wounds on her arm, is very clear.
None of them chose to share that pain with him. He hasn't forgotten, but he won't poke and prod at old pain-- things that were in comparison to what we are now. He will not ask for further context, unless it is offered freely. What Giorno has given him in this conversation and what he saw that week is all he truly needs to understand the shape of the situation.]
[Through this explanation, Fugo watches Giorno with a sharp, canny expression. His fingers curl under his chin and he frowns. When he needs a moment, Fugo waits for him to continue; looks down to give Giorno a moment of privacy before he begins again. And after all is said and done, he takes a moment of his own to think. To slide the pieces together. He doesn't have the complete picture, but he has enough to understand the shape of it.]
I see.
[Riley Williams, a girl who learned not to cry because help would never come, now has the power to make the people who choose to hurt children in their care pay. The pattern is immediately, glaringly obvious. Although the incident as a whole was precipitated by whatever she experienced while asleep, the sheer scale of it implies months of planning, stalking, and imagining how it might go.]
So she's living out a fantasy.
[As Monsters, they all need to kill to survive. That's just the nature of this world. There's no getting around it. But this is not killing to eat. It's excessive. No matter what her justifications might be, it's killing for her own satisfaction; to ease a pain that just won't pass.]
How divorced is she from reality? Given what we've discussed so far, it seems she either doesn't want to-- or can't-- consider the farther-reaching consequences of this spree.
no subject
They say it helped me to grow, but that's hard to see. Can you sympathize at all?]
[They haven't spoken about Haruno. But Fugo hasn't forgotten him. He doesn't think he'll ever forget Haruno or the impassive child who would one day answer to Reira. Or Riley. His memory of her in the bathroom, eyes wet with unshed tears and jaw tight with the effort to keep quiet as she struggled to wrap up half-a-dozen pinprick wounds on her arm, is very clear.
None of them chose to share that pain with him. He hasn't forgotten, but he won't poke and prod at old pain-- things that were in comparison to what we are now. He will not ask for further context, unless it is offered freely. What Giorno has given him in this conversation and what he saw that week is all he truly needs to understand the shape of the situation.]
[Through this explanation, Fugo watches Giorno with a sharp, canny expression. His fingers curl under his chin and he frowns. When he needs a moment, Fugo waits for him to continue; looks down to give Giorno a moment of privacy before he begins again. And after all is said and done, he takes a moment of his own to think. To slide the pieces together. He doesn't have the complete picture, but he has enough to understand the shape of it.]
I see.
[Riley Williams, a girl who learned not to cry because help would never come, now has the power to make the people who choose to hurt children in their care pay. The pattern is immediately, glaringly obvious. Although the incident as a whole was precipitated by whatever she experienced while asleep, the sheer scale of it implies months of planning, stalking, and imagining how it might go.]
So she's living out a fantasy.
[As Monsters, they all need to kill to survive. That's just the nature of this world. There's no getting around it. But this is not killing to eat. It's excessive. No matter what her justifications might be, it's killing for her own satisfaction; to ease a pain that just won't pass.]
How divorced is she from reality? Given what we've discussed so far, it seems she either doesn't want to-- or can't-- consider the farther-reaching consequences of this spree.