[Fugo pauses by Trish's dresser and carefully selects a comb. Specifically for her hair, not one of the tail combs. He gets the feeling she would be very annoyed if he tried to comb her head hair with a tail comb and ... honestly, if their positions were reversed, he would have the same opinion.]
Make sure to hold still while I'm working. I'll be as careful as I can but if I come across a tangle and it tugs, flinching will just make it hurt worse.
[What's this lecture about, huh? It's almost as if Fugo has been asked to comb someone else's hair in the past. Someone who was not very good at sitting still and had very little patience for tugs of any sort.
Anyway. Despite his warning, when Fugo does reach for Trish's hair his touch is slow and incredibly gentle. He isn't combing it in the traditional sense, rather, using the comb as a tool to help him get a closer look, section-by-section, at what's going on in her hair.]
[Hey, now, tail comb is just a name. But if that's what Fugo knows them by, it's always better to err on the side of caution.
Truthfully though, she's too distracted by – all of this. Because it takes a lot of trust for Trish Una to show her back to anyone, and she hopes he knows that! She's giving her wallpaper the grumpiest expression she can muster at ass o'clock in the morning, one that turns to bemusement the moment he starts to lecture her.
He's aware she knows all this, doesn't he? But what he says is definitely rehearsed, definitely born of habit.
She resists the urge to look over her shoulder at him with a raised brow, at any rate, sitting as still as possible.
And then he's picking through her hair with the comb, tuft by pink tuft, and if she wasn't so distressed, it would be...kind of nice? Actually, it is rather soothing despite the circumstances, and she turns pink herself at the realization. Her tail meanwhile has been draped in her lap since the start, since she imagines he wouldn't appreciate a fluffy tail brushing at him.
Indeed, for all her usual bluster, Trish is amazingly quiet and unobtrusive while he works.]
me googling tail combs............... there's a word for those??? TIL...
[When Fugo does things, he never does them by halves. He meticulously examines her hair, working from left to right, always careful not to scratch her scalp with his claws.]
It definitely isn't bugs. I didn't see any signs of insect activity. [He pauses--] Sorry. I'm not trying to gross you out, just ease your mind.
[He combs down the hair on the back of her neck. He rubs a piece between his forefinger and thumb, examining it for anything that might come out or off of the hair. He finds nothing, of course. Trish's hair, as always, is very clean. It smells of the shampoo she likes to use and her perfume.]
It isn't dye or paint either. Given that you've washed it, we should be able to see some transfer at this point. As strange as it is, the best way to describe this is that your hair itself changed color.
Usually ... [Fugo trails off. Hm. It would ... probably upset Trish if he just bluntly said "your nightly transformation might include complete hair loss and regrowth". So he won't say that.] Well, nevermind. The speckle pattern reminds me of your fur. So it's safe to assume that this has something to do with your transformation.
[Well, she can't be any more grossed out than she already is. Although she does wrinkle her nose, muttering:]
I'm just glad you know what to look for. As unfortunate as that may be.
[Since it's almost too easy to imagine the circumstances where he would need them.
In fact, sitting here and silently pondering the motions of his hands makes her think...he's got to have done this for Narancia. Possibly Mista? But Narancia was so scruffy as a rule, and cared so very little about his own well-being to the point she found it highly distressing. She'll never forget how flippant he acted following his near-fatal encounter with Cioccolata's Stand. Not to say Narancia was particularly smelly, although being surrounded by strangers meant they all smelled weird to her, if she's being honest. But the fact of the matter was...Fugo worried about him too. Sometimes, she wonders what he was thinking when they were miles apart, and what Fugo thought of Narancia's ultimate fate. Sometimes it reminds her that as much as she's grown to trust him, there's a lot she doesn't know about Fugo, and how that might be entirely intentional. The one deeply personal thing he shared was done on accident, right?
As for Fugo's final assessment, Trish sighs, finally turning her head to look grimly over the curve of her shoulder at Fugo, lips pressed into a thin pink line.]
...I forgot you never met him. The boss, I mean. [she turns away again, continuing] I was almost hoping it would be bugs, because then I could get rid of these spots.
[Said with a surprising amount of venom over the most benign cosmetic change.]
If it were based on my transformation, the patterns would match my Stand instead. But this...
[This makes her look so much like him, as if she didn't reflect him too much already.]
[Fugo's hands still in her hair, then pull away as she twists to face him again. Oh. He was aware that Trish shared her father's hair and eye color, but he did not know about ... the spots. Fugo, who can be difficult to read on a good day, is plainly surprised. But only for a moment.]
You shouldn't call him that. ["Boss". That's Giorno's title, now. Except Giorno doesn't like to be called by it.] He doesn't have that power over you or anyone else here, except that loser Doppio.
I'm sure you'll wear it better than he ever could. Given how little he seems to leave whatever miserable hideout he's found for himself, I'm sure most people will associate the pattern with you instead of him.
[Just steal your dad's style, Trish! It's not his, it's yours now! Fugo steps back and lightly coughs into his hand.]
Matching your Stand is its own can of worms anyway. Personally, I can't recommend it.
[As if any of them have a choice about how their transformations look like in the end...]
[Surprising Fugo is rare feat indeed, and she would enjoy it more if it wasn't because of something that isn't gross, per se, but is still...well, cosmically gross.
That being said, she's turning pink again at the sudden...she doesn't know!! Fugo is usually subtle in his support, but he's almost effusive right now?! She'd shove him if she weren't busy turning around to face him. You're embarrassing, Fugo!!
She brings a hand up to rest her knuckles just above her lips instead instead, muttering:]
I don't say it like he has any authority. I was never part of Passione, so calling him that doesn't feel like acquiescence to me. It's more like talking about the manager of a fast-food restaurant for all the power it has.
[Using his name would be worse, also? Despite herself, however, hearing that is...nice. She's not sure how the others will react, but if they're anything like Fugo...
Oh, but Fugo seems to remember himself now, and Trish could snort, but he says something genuinely interesting.]
...Oh. I didn't realize, but you're right. Your colors are the same.
[Funny, he encourages her despite her looking like her awful father, and then curses his own Stand in that instance. But she remembers it, and how petrified he was of its mere presence when he truly believed it was here.
So Trish is quiet for a beat. And though the answer is obvious, she still asks:]
[Fugo is tempted to correct her-- to urge Trish to call Diavolo by his name, if only because it would piss him off that the thing he tried to keep such a secret is now completely out of his hands. But he gets the sense Trish would rather change the subject, given her line of questioning.]
Of course it does. I hated that thing. Even though it's gone, I still can't be free of it. [He admits this so easily. He sighs, as if realizing how strange it sounds, before clarifying.] ... Purple Haze was an unusual Stand. Our relationship, if you could call it that, was tumultuous.
[Talking about Diavolo is fraught, sure, but listening to Fugo talk is cathartic, as much as it can be when the damage Diavolo has done can never be reversed. Fugo doesn't hesitate to loudly and angrily throw every ounce of umbrage he can at the man, in a way she hasn't really heard. Diavolo isn't a common topic for many reasons, but it's relieving that even when she looks every bit like him...the boys haven't seemed to think much of it.
Even now, if Fugo is anything to go by.
But his frankness takes a strange turn, because now he's talking about something personal to him, something she saw a glimpse of months ago, but never pushed to ask. Not because she didn't want to know, but because Fugo would speak when he wanted to. Which apparently is right now, and she scoots to the edge of her bed. She wordlessly pats the spot next to her while she digests his statement, because he shouldn't have to stand there? And he's already right here.]
I remember how you reacted to it during the week you were small. I realize Stands can be very dangerous, but it was very odd to me that you believed it would hurt you.
[A beat.]
You were right then, of course, because that wasn't your Stand and it very much wanted to hurt us all. Unless you're saying the real Purple Haze is the same way?
[That talk she had about Stands and intent with Doppio is something else she thinks about often. A reflection of the user's soul seemed to confer power in almost every instance.
And it's likely reasonable to assume Fugo had his Stand forced upon him. That seemed to be true of much of Bruno's gang. Did that have any effect on Fugo's relationship with his own Stand, she wonders?]
[At first, Fugo doesn’t entirely understand what Trish means by that gesture. Why is she patting her comforter? It’s not until she shoots him an expectant look that it clicks. Oh. He’s supposed to sit beside her, while they talk. Because they’re going to continue to talk, apparently. About … Stands.
Fugo is stiff and a little awkward when he comes to sit next to Trish. Part of it is simply his limb situation; it’s a trial for him just to navigate normal living spaces, even if they’re large enough to accommodate larger Monsters. But his legs pull in close when he comes to sit, then twist around to settle largely behind him. His arms, too, fold over his chest. Without even thinking about it, he’s on the defensive.]
Whatever pretended to be Purple Haze this summer wasn’t entirely accurate. It never intentionally attacked me.
[He pauses, lips pressed together in a thin line, as he weighs how much he ought to tell Trish. He doesn’t like discussing it but, at the same time, knows he has no good reason to deny her. “I don’t want to” feels like such a shallow reason, especially for something that no longer exists.]
But I wasn’t immune to its ability. And I couldn’t control it, either. It had a mind of its own. [He sighs, bitterly, then rolls his eyes.] Not that it ever tried to think. That thing was a complete moron.
[She almost wonders if Fugo is going to change his mind and leave now that they've confirmed she doesn't have bugs, just the unfortunate happenstance of DNA expressing itself more vibrantly than ever before, but he eventually moves to join her.
Except he's closed off as always, even in posture, and she understands it.
He was petrified of his own Stand at a younger age than he is now, so even if that facsimile wasn't right, it wasn't entirely wrong, either. And Fugo always seemed to control everything about himself as tightly as he could, so to have a Stand that acted independently of him, and to act contrary to his wishes at that, must've been as maddening as it was terrifying. But to hear him complain about it like it was a big, dangerous dumb animal and not his very soul says a lot more about Fugo than it does about his Stand.
Trish is silent for a stretch, drumming her claws on her comforter.]
...It doesn't sound like you at all, does it? If it was so thoughtless you were worried it would act to the detriment of everyone around it.
[Unconscionable creature.]
But I wonder. It's not often Stands act independently, so I have to assume there was a reason for it. Spice Girl also acted independent of me, and it was a good thing, because she didn't panic like I did.
[If Purple Haze was so dangerous...would it struggle with itself if it knew that much about itself? Why not make it a Stand that could act only by orders alone, like Sticky Fingers seemed to?
[Firmly:] No. It's exactly like "me". Purple Haze is a part of myself.
[As much as he hates it, as much as he resents it, as much as he was and is afraid of it-- Purple Haze always was just him.]
I don't know why some Stands are more independent than others, beyond that it's more typical for long range and automatic Stands and less so for close range Stands. It probably has something to do with the users. [He pauses, chewing it over, before continuing.] I don't know what the others have told you about Stands, or anything about yours. But Stands and their abilities are, with very few exceptions, reflections of their users.
[He shifts to look at her. Fugo's stare is often intent. This afternoon, it's steely and unflinching. To Fugo, Spice Girl's calm in the face of Trish's own panic is, more or less, reflective of Trish's determination to survive. He might not like what Purple Haze reflects of him, but there's no point in denying it.]
A Stand is a representation of someone's soul, but Fugo presents the corollary that it merely represents what is either a large or crucial part of that soul. Though, she has to wonder about that, because the way he talks about Purple Haze and the way she sees him are entirely at odds with one another.
She can't reconcile it. But she can only go off what Fugo tells her.
Trish meets his gaze, the hardness of his red eyes, and her lips press into a thin pink line.]
...There hasn't been any cause to talk about Stands, especially here, so I know about as much as I did before I met all of you.
[Spice Girl's ability could say any number of things about her, for example, and they may or may not be true. Does it mean anything as well that her Stand was not awakened by an Arrow? How can they be sure of anything ascribed to something as nebulous as a Stand ability?
That being said...]
But if what you're saying is true, then have you considered you might yourself be an exception? You're certainly not a "moron".
If there is anything you want to know, I'll do my best to explain. [He shrugs.] Stands might not be as relevant here, but you deserve to know.
[Trish is one of them. If she wants to know more about the power that the Fog stole from her, there's no reason to keep it from her.]
No. I'm not an exception. [He sighs, a little reluctant, before pushing through.] I'm not a moron, but-- ... when I really lose my temper, I don't see anything except what's in front of me. I can't stop.
[When he loses his temper, he stabs friends with silverware. He beats teachers with dictionaries. He throws himself at nightmares with nothing but a broken table leg, slamming it down over and over again until it's a bloody mess on the floor.]
trish started out feeling bad but now she can worry about him instead. success???
Bucciarati actually humored my questions not too long after he arrived, but what he knew began and ended with the Arrow. Oh, and what Polnareff told us. I actually found that all very unenlightening. When I asked Spice Girl herself about everything I could think of, she said...
[Trish suddenly straightens up, taking on a steady but nearly robotic cadence, her tail going limp too, as if to really emphasize her personality being sapped away.]
"I don't understand these questions. I am you. That is all you need to know."
[Followed by Trish very maturely sticking her tongue out between her fangs.
Badmouthing her Stand seems to be her attempt at showing Fugo that maybe he can badmouth his own Stand too if he must, but...]
What I'm trying to say is, Purple Haze is a truth, but not the truth. I don't think you're nearly as animalistic as you claim your Stand to be.
[Her tail goes back to flicking back and forth.]
I can be afraid, and Spice Girl won't be. You can regret losing your temper, and Purple Haze won't care.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Make sure to hold still while I'm working. I'll be as careful as I can but if I come across a tangle and it tugs, flinching will just make it hurt worse.
[What's this lecture about, huh? It's almost as if Fugo has been asked to comb someone else's hair in the past. Someone who was not very good at sitting still and had very little patience for tugs of any sort.
Anyway. Despite his warning, when Fugo does reach for Trish's hair his touch is slow and incredibly gentle. He isn't combing it in the traditional sense, rather, using the comb as a tool to help him get a closer look, section-by-section, at what's going on in her hair.]
CRIES ABOUT THAT ICON!!!
Truthfully though, she's too distracted by – all of this. Because it takes a lot of trust for Trish Una to show her back to anyone, and she hopes he knows that! She's giving her wallpaper the grumpiest expression she can muster at ass o'clock in the morning, one that turns to bemusement the moment he starts to lecture her.
He's aware she knows all this, doesn't he? But what he says is definitely rehearsed, definitely born of habit.
She resists the urge to look over her shoulder at him with a raised brow, at any rate, sitting as still as possible.
And then he's picking through her hair with the comb, tuft by pink tuft, and if she wasn't so distressed, it would be...kind of nice? Actually, it is rather soothing despite the circumstances, and she turns pink herself at the realization. Her tail meanwhile has been draped in her lap since the start, since she imagines he wouldn't appreciate a fluffy tail brushing at him.
Indeed, for all her usual bluster, Trish is amazingly quiet and unobtrusive while he works.]
me googling tail combs............... there's a word for those??? TIL...
It definitely isn't bugs. I didn't see any signs of insect activity. [He pauses--] Sorry. I'm not trying to gross you out, just ease your mind.
[He combs down the hair on the back of her neck. He rubs a piece between his forefinger and thumb, examining it for anything that might come out or off of the hair. He finds nothing, of course. Trish's hair, as always, is very clean. It smells of the shampoo she likes to use and her perfume.]
It isn't dye or paint either. Given that you've washed it, we should be able to see some transfer at this point. As strange as it is, the best way to describe this is that your hair itself changed color.
Usually ... [Fugo trails off. Hm. It would ... probably upset Trish if he just bluntly said "your nightly transformation might include complete hair loss and regrowth". So he won't say that.] Well, nevermind. The speckle pattern reminds me of your fur. So it's safe to assume that this has something to do with your transformation.
i have approximate knowledge of many things
I'm just glad you know what to look for. As unfortunate as that may be.
[Since it's almost too easy to imagine the circumstances where he would need them.
In fact, sitting here and silently pondering the motions of his hands makes her think...he's got to have done this for Narancia. Possibly Mista? But Narancia was so scruffy as a rule, and cared so very little about his own well-being to the point she found it highly distressing. She'll never forget how flippant he acted following his near-fatal encounter with Cioccolata's Stand. Not to say Narancia was particularly smelly, although being surrounded by strangers meant they all smelled weird to her, if she's being honest. But the fact of the matter was...Fugo worried about him too. Sometimes, she wonders what he was thinking when they were miles apart, and what Fugo thought of Narancia's ultimate fate. Sometimes it reminds her that as much as she's grown to trust him, there's a lot she doesn't know about Fugo, and how that might be entirely intentional. The one deeply personal thing he shared was done on accident, right?
As for Fugo's final assessment, Trish sighs, finally turning her head to look grimly over the curve of her shoulder at Fugo, lips pressed into a thin pink line.]
...I forgot you never met him. The boss, I mean. [she turns away again, continuing] I was almost hoping it would be bugs, because then I could get rid of these spots.
[Said with a surprising amount of venom over the most benign cosmetic change.]
If it were based on my transformation, the patterns would match my Stand instead. But this...
[This makes her look so much like him, as if she didn't reflect him too much already.]
no subject
You shouldn't call him that. ["Boss". That's Giorno's title, now. Except Giorno doesn't like to be called by it.] He doesn't have that power over you or anyone else here, except that loser Doppio.
I'm sure you'll wear it better than he ever could. Given how little he seems to leave whatever miserable hideout he's found for himself, I'm sure most people will associate the pattern with you instead of him.
[Just steal your dad's style, Trish! It's not his, it's yours now! Fugo steps back and lightly coughs into his hand.]
Matching your Stand is its own can of worms anyway. Personally, I can't recommend it.
[As if any of them have a choice about how their transformations look like in the end...]
no subject
That being said, she's turning pink again at the sudden...she doesn't know!! Fugo is usually subtle in his support, but he's almost effusive right now?! She'd shove him if she weren't busy turning around to face him. You're embarrassing, Fugo!!
She brings a hand up to rest her knuckles just above her lips instead instead, muttering:]
I don't say it like he has any authority. I was never part of Passione, so calling him that doesn't feel like acquiescence to me. It's more like talking about the manager of a fast-food restaurant for all the power it has.
[Using his name would be worse, also? Despite herself, however, hearing that is...nice. She's not sure how the others will react, but if they're anything like Fugo...
Oh, but Fugo seems to remember himself now, and Trish could snort, but he says something genuinely interesting.]
...Oh. I didn't realize, but you're right. Your colors are the same.
[Funny, he encourages her despite her looking like her awful father, and then curses his own Stand in that instance. But she remembers it, and how petrified he was of its mere presence when he truly believed it was here.
So Trish is quiet for a beat. And though the answer is obvious, she still asks:]
Does that...bother you?
no subject
Of course it does. I hated that thing. Even though it's gone, I still can't be free of it. [He admits this so easily. He sighs, as if realizing how strange it sounds, before clarifying.] ... Purple Haze was an unusual Stand. Our relationship, if you could call it that, was tumultuous.
silvies inbox will never know peace
Even now, if Fugo is anything to go by.
But his frankness takes a strange turn, because now he's talking about something personal to him, something she saw a glimpse of months ago, but never pushed to ask. Not because she didn't want to know, but because Fugo would speak when he wanted to. Which apparently is right now, and she scoots to the edge of her bed. She wordlessly pats the spot next to her while she digests his statement, because he shouldn't have to stand there? And he's already right here.]
I remember how you reacted to it during the week you were small. I realize Stands can be very dangerous, but it was very odd to me that you believed it would hurt you.
[A beat.]
You were right then, of course, because that wasn't your Stand and it very much wanted to hurt us all. Unless you're saying the real Purple Haze is the same way?
[That talk she had about Stands and intent with Doppio is something else she thinks about often. A reflection of the user's soul seemed to confer power in almost every instance.
And it's likely reasonable to assume Fugo had his Stand forced upon him. That seemed to be true of much of Bruno's gang. Did that have any effect on Fugo's relationship with his own Stand, she wonders?]
cw: ableist language
Fugo is stiff and a little awkward when he comes to sit next to Trish. Part of it is simply his limb situation; it’s a trial for him just to navigate normal living spaces, even if they’re large enough to accommodate larger Monsters. But his legs pull in close when he comes to sit, then twist around to settle largely behind him. His arms, too, fold over his chest. Without even thinking about it, he’s on the defensive.]
Whatever pretended to be Purple Haze this summer wasn’t entirely accurate. It never intentionally attacked me.
[He pauses, lips pressed together in a thin line, as he weighs how much he ought to tell Trish. He doesn’t like discussing it but, at the same time, knows he has no good reason to deny her. “I don’t want to” feels like such a shallow reason, especially for something that no longer exists.]
But I wasn’t immune to its ability. And I couldn’t control it, either. It had a mind of its own. [He sighs, bitterly, then rolls his eyes.] Not that it ever tried to think. That thing was a complete moron.
no subject
Except he's closed off as always, even in posture, and she understands it.
He was petrified of his own Stand at a younger age than he is now, so even if that facsimile wasn't right, it wasn't entirely wrong, either. And Fugo always seemed to control everything about himself as tightly as he could, so to have a Stand that acted independently of him, and to act contrary to his wishes at that, must've been as maddening as it was terrifying. But to hear him complain about it like it was a big, dangerous dumb animal and not his very soul says a lot more about Fugo than it does about his Stand.
Trish is silent for a stretch, drumming her claws on her comforter.]
...It doesn't sound like you at all, does it? If it was so thoughtless you were worried it would act to the detriment of everyone around it.
[Unconscionable creature.]
But I wonder. It's not often Stands act independently, so I have to assume there was a reason for it. Spice Girl also acted independent of me, and it was a good thing, because she didn't panic like I did.
[If Purple Haze was so dangerous...would it struggle with itself if it knew that much about itself? Why not make it a Stand that could act only by orders alone, like Sticky Fingers seemed to?
It's curious.]
no subject
[As much as he hates it, as much as he resents it, as much as he was and is afraid of it-- Purple Haze always was just him.]
I don't know why some Stands are more independent than others, beyond that it's more typical for long range and automatic Stands and less so for close range Stands. It probably has something to do with the users. [He pauses, chewing it over, before continuing.] I don't know what the others have told you about Stands, or anything about yours. But Stands and their abilities are, with very few exceptions, reflections of their users.
[He shifts to look at her. Fugo's stare is often intent. This afternoon, it's steely and unflinching. To Fugo, Spice Girl's calm in the face of Trish's own panic is, more or less, reflective of Trish's determination to survive. He might not like what Purple Haze reflects of him, but there's no point in denying it.]
no subject
A Stand is a representation of someone's soul, but Fugo presents the corollary that it merely represents what is either a large or crucial part of that soul. Though, she has to wonder about that, because the way he talks about Purple Haze and the way she sees him are entirely at odds with one another.
She can't reconcile it. But she can only go off what Fugo tells her.
Trish meets his gaze, the hardness of his red eyes, and her lips press into a thin pink line.]
...There hasn't been any cause to talk about Stands, especially here, so I know about as much as I did before I met all of you.
[Spice Girl's ability could say any number of things about her, for example, and they may or may not be true. Does it mean anything as well that her Stand was not awakened by an Arrow? How can they be sure of anything ascribed to something as nebulous as a Stand ability?
That being said...]
But if what you're saying is true, then have you considered you might yourself be an exception? You're certainly not a "moron".
no subject
[Trish is one of them. If she wants to know more about the power that the Fog stole from her, there's no reason to keep it from her.]
No. I'm not an exception. [He sighs, a little reluctant, before pushing through.] I'm not a moron, but-- ... when I really lose my temper, I don't see anything except what's in front of me. I can't stop.
[When he loses his temper, he stabs friends with silverware. He beats teachers with dictionaries. He throws himself at nightmares with nothing but a broken table leg, slamming it down over and over again until it's a bloody mess on the floor.]
trish started out feeling bad but now she can worry about him instead. success???
[Trish suddenly straightens up, taking on a steady but nearly robotic cadence, her tail going limp too, as if to really emphasize her personality being sapped away.]
"I don't understand these questions. I am you. That is all you need to know."
[Followed by Trish very maturely sticking her tongue out between her fangs.
Badmouthing her Stand seems to be her attempt at showing Fugo that maybe he can badmouth his own Stand too if he must, but...]
What I'm trying to say is, Purple Haze is a truth, but not the truth. I don't think you're nearly as animalistic as you claim your Stand to be.
[Her tail goes back to flicking back and forth.]
I can be afraid, and Spice Girl won't be. You can regret losing your temper, and Purple Haze won't care.
That's why they're not wholly us.