[ On a crisp afternoon, Riley stands at the door to Hill House, utterly paralyzed with fear.
She's been standing here for several minutes. Behind that door is a conversation that has to happen, but it's one she never wanted to have, in her entire life.
But... Her life isn't her life anymore. She gave that up. That's what Riley keeps telling herself. This isn't for her. It's for people who matter more. For the ones she's hurt.
And yet... She just stands there, hand balled to a fist and hovering in front of the door.
A year ago, she came here to deliver a present that cemented their friendship. Now, having thoroughly ruined it, she can't bring herself to desecrate its corpse. ]
[Fugo does not intend to sneak up on Riley. Personally, he hates it when people creep out of his blind spots-- not that there are a lot of them, these days. He just happened to be outside when she arrived, checking to make sure that the horse has enough food and water before it gets dark.
But he felt her approach. Or, to be more accurate, her landing; she flew in, of course, and landed at the front door. He had thought it might be Yuzu but, when he peered out of the stable, it was Riley's fiery plumage he spotted in front of the entrance to the sprawling underground house. It's obvious to him who she is here to see. Except, instead of knocking, she lingers. She hesitates.
Unwilling to go back and abandon what she came here to do, but unable to move forward at the same time. It's an uncomfortably familiar feeling. In the end, after five minutes pass with no progress, he takes pity on her.]
Hello, Riley. [Well, sort of. Fugo approaches from what probably feels like a blind spot; although he makes an effort to call out to her before he gets too close, chances are it probably looks like he appears out of nowhere.] It's been a while.
[ Immediately, her talons dig into the cold ground beneath her. She turns, jumpy like a startled rabbit, eyes wide. ]
Fugo?! Oh, it— [ It's her intention to say she's just here for Giorno. She has no doubt, with the way that conversation went... Between him and Trish, there's no way Fugo wants anything to do with her. No way she'll be welcome in the beautiful Hill House ever again. No way—
But he looks so...different. ]
...Yeah. A lot...can happen, in...it's been a month. Right?
[ A lifetime. Sometimes...she thinks she's still back in that small room, waiting. Always waiting. Maybe she's there instead of here. Maybe everything's just been—
She blinks. Her puffy feathers slowly start to sit flat again. ]
[When Riley startles, Fugo's shoulders jump. The long legs on his back twitch and shift, as if they need to find their footing again, even though he has them held up and above the snow. Where she puffs up, he tightens.]
Yeah, it has.
[Been a month, since they've seen each other. A lot has happened. His head almost feels too full with it, thoughts churning and sloshing about in his skull, as he works to keep everything-- organized. Managed. He can do it; he has to do it. It's something he has become very good at. There's a long moment where Fugo hesitates between November was shit and I think I'm finally finished growing extra body parts, neither of which seem right, and Riley seems to be lost in her own head.]
Would you like to come in?
[Riley must be here for Giorno. But she's been out here for a long while. She must be cold. It wouldn't hurt for her to come in and get warmed up, before she flies out to his tree.]
[ Been a month. It's...been a month. Even though she has two weeks missing, two weeks of nothing after a painful death.
If she thinks about that... She can't make up what it feels like, to die. Not that vividly. Right? So, maybe she's here, outside a house set into the hills, in the snow, talking to a boy with many, many legs. ]
—In? Um- yes, if- [ A swallow. What keeps her warm right now, besides her plumage, is a tailored jacket, something Eridanus helped fix up for her. A pair of leggings, a gift from Steve. But what holds her hair up right now, it's a rather plain ribbon, instead of her normal ones, instead of one gifted from— ]
Giorno. Is he here? Is Giorno here?
[ She doesn't feel permitted to wear it anymore. Not when she knows... From the way he spoke, he wants her gone. It's simply the right thing for them both, to step aside. ]
[Riley burns so brightly, flickering and wavering in front of him. She's here, but also not at all. She is tethered to the present only by her goal: find Giorno. He's reminded of Riley on the beach, vague and wandering until she snapped into focus with a direction to follow. As soon as she knows that Giorno isn't here, she's going to take to the air again.]
No. He isn't here. [Fugo's expression is carefully neutral. He doesn't have any questions for her. He has already offered her a moment of rest, knowing full well that she won't accept it. Without turning away from her, he reaches out to point in the direction of the home of Giorno's heart.] He's at his tree.
[ Something flickers across Riley’s face as her jaw clenches. Fugo can, with his own experience, probably recognize it as some sort of…self-critique. ]
Right, that makes sense. [ Should’ve realized that, stupid, stupid— ] Then, um. I can’t. I just… I really need to talk to Giorno.
[It's funny. No, it's not funny at all. He can almost hear the way she cuts herself down in the privacy of her own thoughts. It's so loud, in the way her expression darkens and her jaw tightens. After all, he's thought much the same about himself.]
He should be there for a while. So you should go see him. He needs to talk with you too, I think.
[It's been a month of silence. And as much as Giorno has tried to drown that silence with work, nothing can fill the hole in his life left in the wake of Riley's absence and what she's done. No matter what, how things go from here, whatever shape their relationship takes moving forward, November wasn't the end for them. No matter how final it feels. Those hurts can't begin to heal for either of them until they talk with, not to, each other.
What's strange about it, Fugo thinks, is how obvious this seems from the outside. When it must seem so impossible, so final from within. Ah, he really is ... an idiot, isn't he.]
[ A rising lump in her throat almost chokes her. He needs to talk with her. Needs to talk, of course, he needs closure. He needs to cut her off, once and for all, cut her out of his life. She's sure, Fugo would know. How much does he, though? How much has Giorno told him? There was once upon a time when she believed, all her secrets would be safe with Giorno, but—
Two dueling thoughts, the previous prevalent one of is this just what happens with family and the current leading theory did I stop being worth the effort of a good family?
She doesn't think she'd blame him. If, when he started dissecting what she did and how she did it, when he looked at her in that cold way, it never stopped. She thinks maybe, if she could turn Giorno that cruel, it's all she deserves. ]
Mm- hmm. [ As if it doesn't feel like her world is falling apart. As if she doesn't want to take off and fly and never land ever again. ] Yeah- okay. Thank you, I... I'll go do that, then.
[Looking at Riley isn't unlike staring down into the dark, churning waters of a river. Something is moving behind her eyes. Some thought she won't express, ugly and unhappy, whose shape he can't know. Only that it's pulled her under and she's been pulled out to sea. They aren't strangers, but they aren't friends either. It's not his place to judge her and it's not his place to comfort her. The best he can do is see her on her way.]
Okay. See you around, Riley.
[He steps out of her way. He's not entirely sure if it helps for Harpies to have room to take off, but there's room if she needs it.]
[ Will he? He's one of Giorno's, like Trish. She was happy, so happy, that Giorno could find his friends...but that’s the connection between the two of them. She has no illusion that in the end, Giorno's word is what will matter. She won't matter. It's only natural.
The lingering doubt in her mind, she looks away from Fugo and takes off, cold wind what's hurting her face, not her wet, wet eyes. ]
[Riley turns away from him. Fugo can't see her face anymore, but he watches her as she takes off. Her whole body tenses, wound as tight as a piano wire-- and then she's off. It's incredible, really. To see an object as large as a human body work to defy gravity and achieve flight.
Even so. There is something profoundly lonely about the cut of Riley's profile as she climbs higher, higher, higher still. Wind whips around below, tousling his bangs and kicking fresh snow around. Still, Fugo stands and watches her go.
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december 5th
She's been standing here for several minutes. Behind that door is a conversation that has to happen, but it's one she never wanted to have, in her entire life.
But... Her life isn't her life anymore. She gave that up. That's what Riley keeps telling herself. This isn't for her. It's for people who matter more. For the ones she's hurt.
And yet... She just stands there, hand balled to a fist and hovering in front of the door.
A year ago, she came here to deliver a present that cemented their friendship. Now, having thoroughly ruined it, she can't bring herself to desecrate its corpse. ]
no subject
But he felt her approach. Or, to be more accurate, her landing; she flew in, of course, and landed at the front door. He had thought it might be Yuzu but, when he peered out of the stable, it was Riley's fiery plumage he spotted in front of the entrance to the sprawling underground house. It's obvious to him who she is here to see. Except, instead of knocking, she lingers. She hesitates.
Unwilling to go back and abandon what she came here to do, but unable to move forward at the same time. It's an uncomfortably familiar feeling. In the end, after five minutes pass with no progress, he takes pity on her.]
Hello, Riley. [Well, sort of. Fugo approaches from what probably feels like a blind spot; although he makes an effort to call out to her before he gets too close, chances are it probably looks like he appears out of nowhere.] It's been a while.
cw: juvenile criminal justice discussion, dissociation
Fugo?! Oh, it— [ It's her intention to say she's just here for Giorno. She has no doubt, with the way that conversation went... Between him and Trish, there's no way Fugo wants anything to do with her. No way she'll be welcome in the beautiful Hill House ever again. No way—
But he looks so...different. ]
...Yeah. A lot...can happen, in...it's been a month. Right?
[ A lifetime. Sometimes...she thinks she's still back in that small room, waiting. Always waiting. Maybe she's there instead of here. Maybe everything's just been—
She blinks. Her puffy feathers slowly start to sit flat again. ]
no subject
Yeah, it has.
[Been a month, since they've seen each other. A lot has happened. His head almost feels too full with it, thoughts churning and sloshing about in his skull, as he works to keep everything-- organized. Managed. He can do it; he has to do it. It's something he has become very good at. There's a long moment where Fugo hesitates between November was shit and I think I'm finally finished growing extra body parts, neither of which seem right, and Riley seems to be lost in her own head.]
Would you like to come in?
[Riley must be here for Giorno. But she's been out here for a long while. She must be cold. It wouldn't hurt for her to come in and get warmed up, before she flies out to his tree.]
no subject
If she thinks about that... She can't make up what it feels like, to die. Not that vividly. Right? So, maybe she's here, outside a house set into the hills, in the snow, talking to a boy with many, many legs. ]
—In? Um- yes, if- [ A swallow. What keeps her warm right now, besides her plumage, is a tailored jacket, something Eridanus helped fix up for her. A pair of leggings, a gift from Steve. But what holds her hair up right now, it's a rather plain ribbon, instead of her normal ones, instead of one gifted from— ]
Giorno. Is he here? Is Giorno here?
[ She doesn't feel permitted to wear it anymore. Not when she knows... From the way he spoke, he wants her gone. It's simply the right thing for them both, to step aside. ]
no subject
No. He isn't here. [Fugo's expression is carefully neutral. He doesn't have any questions for her. He has already offered her a moment of rest, knowing full well that she won't accept it. Without turning away from her, he reaches out to point in the direction of the home of Giorno's heart.] He's at his tree.
no subject
[ Something flickers across Riley’s face as her jaw clenches. Fugo can, with his own experience, probably recognize it as some sort of…self-critique. ]
Right, that makes sense. [ Should’ve realized that, stupid, stupid— ] Then, um. I can’t. I just… I really need to talk to Giorno.
no subject
He should be there for a while. So you should go see him. He needs to talk with you too, I think.
[It's been a month of silence. And as much as Giorno has tried to drown that silence with work, nothing can fill the hole in his life left in the wake of Riley's absence and what she's done. No matter what, how things go from here, whatever shape their relationship takes moving forward, November wasn't the end for them. No matter how final it feels. Those hurts can't begin to heal for either of them until they talk with, not to, each other.
What's strange about it, Fugo thinks, is how obvious this seems from the outside. When it must seem so impossible, so final from within. Ah, he really is ... an idiot, isn't he.]
cw: abuse logic
Two dueling thoughts, the previous prevalent one of is this just what happens with family and the current leading theory did I stop being worth the effort of a good family?
She doesn't think she'd blame him. If, when he started dissecting what she did and how she did it, when he looked at her in that cold way, it never stopped. She thinks maybe, if she could turn Giorno that cruel, it's all she deserves. ]
Mm- hmm. [ As if it doesn't feel like her world is falling apart. As if she doesn't want to take off and fly and never land ever again. ] Yeah- okay. Thank you, I... I'll go do that, then.
no subject
Okay. See you around, Riley.
[He steps out of her way. He's not entirely sure if it helps for Harpies to have room to take off, but there's room if she needs it.]
no subject
The lingering doubt in her mind, she looks away from Fugo and takes off, cold wind what's hurting her face, not her wet, wet eyes. ]
no subject
Even so. There is something profoundly lonely about the cut of Riley's profile as she climbs higher, higher, higher still. Wind whips around below, tousling his bangs and kicking fresh snow around. Still, Fugo stands and watches her go.
Forward. Despite everything, she moves forward.]