[Yes, fortunately the one thing beyond the changes Basil has avoided so far is death. He was never in any real danger either, as a Shade, even though he doesn't remember the encounters he had or the people he terrorized...in the end, things could have gone a lot worse for him, but they didn't. A calm before the inevitable storm, as it were.
Which isn't to say that Basil is okay after all of this, of course. He's...very much not, actually, and it's going to take some time for him to recover from it. Fugo may not be surprised to find that he isn't going to leave the Palazzo again at all this month, not unless he's coaxed outside.
But there is more to it than just that, and Basil himself is waffling on whether or not he wants to talk about it. He thinks he's able to now without getting too upset, thanks to his discussion with Komaeda...and Fugo, he thinks, should at least know that something strange went on.
So, after a moment, Basil sits back a little to give Fugo some space again. He doesn't move far, just enough so that they can look at each other.]
...all I remember...
[He swallows hard, then repeats the words burned into his mind:]
[When Fugo feels Basil begin to ease back, he loosens his grip enough that Basil has room to comfortably move. Basil will find Fugo's worry and relief brushed over his sharp features in equal measure. An old instinct, rusty with disuse after a year without chasing after Narancia, urges him to push Basil's bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at his face. Just to make doubly, triply sure that he is physically alright.]
That sounds like the 38-8... [Fugo doesn't know Katurian. Well, not personally, anyway. He's that guy on the network who thought they were all dead; who used to go by < pillowman >, until someone pointed out to him that it sounded like a sex thing.] There... are plenty of reasons, why he might not be there.
[There is one that comes to mind. Katurian is new. He likely doesn't have much money, so he would have no place to go beyond the 38-8. It's doubtful that whatever job, if he's working at all, would require him to work during the midst of everything that happened this past fog. Unless Katurian had to find somewhere else to hide, chances are... he's one of the many, many soulless bodies being kept at the morgue. As an unchanged human, unless he gained some of the abilities of a shade, he would be just as vulnerable as any of Bavan's citizens. Maybe even moreso, given how unfamiliar he is with Ryslig.]
If you want, tomorrow while I'm in the city for work, I can go to the 38-8. You can come along with, or stay here. Either way I'll ask after him, to see if anyone knows where he might be. Okay?
Basil's expression twists, at that. And for a moment, he can't meet his gaze at all. He knows he's trying to help, genuinely, and he appreciates that more than anything.
But...
The grip of Basil's hands along Fugo, now more slight than it was before, tightens a fraction.]
[Even before Basil speaks, Fugo has an inkling of what he's going to say; he can feel it in the twist of his fingers, the subtle tightening of his grip.]
There is-- always that chance, when one of us goes missing.
[Frenzied, dead, or returned to the sea of stars. When someone goes missing, it's almost always one of those three.]
If he did die, this week... chances are that he'll come back, with the next fog. We all do. The fog doesn't let go of us that easily.
[This is likely cold comfort, given that Basil can't remember why he was supposed to meet Katurian.]
[It's been, quite frankly, horrifying for Basil to think about. Why is Katurian missing? Is it his fault? It's likely not, but since he can't remember...he isn't going to know until he gets to speak to Katurian again. And that's if he comes back.
It all feels very selfish of him, for that to be his main worry...but he can't help it. It's been on his mind ever since he came to in the city.]
[All things considered, it isn't that long of a time. But for Basil, who has barely been in Ryslig for that long himself-- whose memory of the past week is completely blank-- it probably seems horribly long.]
[It does feel horribly long. But there's nothing he can do but wait. Wait, and hope that he'll be okay.
In the end, Basil is just thankful he can be here. He isn't sure how he'd cope with having to be alone right now, in a small apartment, even if he's not particularly up for being around a lot of people...it still means everything just having them all here, ambiently.]
Okay...
[He just has to accept it for now. There's no point in dwelling over it, even though he knows he will in spite of himself.]
I'm...I'm going to stay at the house for a while.
[Until he's forced to leave when the changes hit, in fact.]
Alright. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to.
[To be honest, hearing that Basil doesn't want to leave the palazzo is a relief. Basil is old enough to decide for himself what he wants to do, so Fugo has no intention of insisting that he needs a chaperone when he visits Bavan. Even so, Fugo can't help but worry for him when he's by himself. As much as he resents the fact that the fog changes them at all, the reality of their situation is that all newcomers are particularly vulnerable until theirs begin. And Basil is small for his age; easily frightened, easily cowed. He is an easy target, for those who have been transformed by the fog and those who live in fear of it.
Fugo knows better than to expect the world to be kind to him. So he's very glad, that Basil will stay at the safest place he knows on the peninsula.]
Are you hungry? How long has it been since you've eaten anything?
I don't...remember. Since I was here last, I think...
[He absolutely did not eat anything as a Shade, and that was an entire week's worth of time. But that probably saved him from starving to death or something drastic like that, you know how Ryslig can be.]
[He nods, because however much he doesn't feel like it...that much he can agree with. Food should happen. It will help him feel better, he knows it. It's the same thing Polly always used to tell him too, on those days he simply...didn't want dinner.
[Basil's question confuses Fugo. It's written all over his face. He doesn't understand why Basil would ask that because, to him, it isn't even a question.]
What do you mean? I'm going with you, of course.
[Already, he's thinking about what's in the fridge. There are some leftovers, of course, which would be easiest. But if Basil is in the mood for something else, Fugo wouldn't mind making him something fresh at all. And of course he'll have to make him some tea.]
[Basil, meanwhile...didn't want to assume anything. Of course he doesn't want to be alone right now, but at the same time...if Fugo expected him to go by himself, he would have. He wouldn't have complained.
The way he says it- I'm going with you, of course- as if it never was a possibility...makes Basil swallow hard against the lump that suddenly forms in his throat, his eyes darting down for a second to look sheepishly at his feet as he pushes himself properly upright.]
Oh. R...right.
["I just didn't want to bother you" "You don't have to" "If you're busy, I can go by myself"]
[Fugo follows Basil up, reluctantly unwinding his multi-limbed embrace, the fins on his legs idly flicking to set themselves right after not having much room to move. It's obvious, between the question and Basil's following body language, that this isn't the outcome Basil was expecting. This, too, is familiar. Except this time, Fugo is the one offering an unexpected kindness.]
It's okay. [Fugo falls quiet, rolling a thought in his mind. Then, when he speaks, he offers Basil his hand.] When you're used to taking care of things on your own... it's just easier to expect that people won't be there.
[From a very early age, Fugo learned not to expect things. Of course his parents were never home to eat with them; they had more important things to do. Of course his brothers wouldn't let him into their room after a bad dream; they hated him, because being a prodigy was more novel than a matched pair of twins. Of course his grandfather would never tell him it's alright if he produced less than perfect results on a test or at the piano bench; his high expectations were meant to help Fugo grow.
Expecting nothing meant less disappointment. Wanting nothing meant hurting less, even if only by a little.]
I need to be reminded it doesn't have to be that way too, some-- [A pause. Then he smiles, a bit self-deprecating, and shakes his head.] Often.
It surprises me all the time, that I don't have to be alone if I don't want to be.
[Basil hadn't known how much he desired the contact he'd had with Fugo until they'd parted again, leaving him feeling...not as bad as he had before, but with that slowly encroaching sense of anxiety that is sortof his baseline these days. So when he offers his hand to take, he's once again left feeling surprised, because most people wouldn't do that sort of thing. When he and his friends were younger...it was normal. They held hands all the time. But now that he's older, it's just percieved as strange, or unnecessarily clingy for a sixteen year-old. Childish. Or, to hear Aubrey and her gang talk of him, weird.
But despite that, he takes Fugo's hand to hold. He's in a position right now where he isn't sure he really cares about all of that stuff.]
T-then...I think I'd rather not be alone, right now.
[He decides to be honest, too, if Fugo is going to be honest with him.]
[Casual touch is another one of those things Fugo gave up so long ago that, when others started to offer it to him, he just didn't know what to do with it. He still doesn't, sometimes. This moment is nothing more and nothing less than a reflection of all the ways Giorno makes an effort to reach him: by leaning on his shoulder, drawing him into his arms, and reaching halfway to hold his hand.]
Let's go together, then. [Fugo carefully squeezes Basil's hand, then moves toward the door.] I'll stay with you.
[And together they go. When Basil's changes first hit, and he's overwhelmed by heat and forced away from others, he'll think of this moment and wonder if he'll ever be the same again. Will he be able to feel this same kindness again? Or will he be doomed to hurt others, no matter what he does?
It's not a thought for now. All that matters now is that he's safe, and nothing can take that from him.
He'll just learn to cherish these moments, because they're so fleeting.]
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Which isn't to say that Basil is okay after all of this, of course. He's...very much not, actually, and it's going to take some time for him to recover from it. Fugo may not be surprised to find that he isn't going to leave the Palazzo again at all this month, not unless he's coaxed outside.
But there is more to it than just that, and Basil himself is waffling on whether or not he wants to talk about it. He thinks he's able to now without getting too upset, thanks to his discussion with Komaeda...and Fugo, he thinks, should at least know that something strange went on.
So, after a moment, Basil sits back a little to give Fugo some space again. He doesn't move far, just enough so that they can look at each other.]
...all I remember...
[He swallows hard, then repeats the words burned into his mind:]
"Find Katurian. Room 305." ...b-but he...he wasn't there.
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That sounds like the 38-8... [Fugo doesn't know Katurian. Well, not personally, anyway. He's that guy on the network who thought they were all dead; who used to go by < pillowman >, until someone pointed out to him that it sounded like a sex thing.] There... are plenty of reasons, why he might not be there.
[There is one that comes to mind. Katurian is new. He likely doesn't have much money, so he would have no place to go beyond the 38-8. It's doubtful that whatever job, if he's working at all, would require him to work during the midst of everything that happened this past fog. Unless Katurian had to find somewhere else to hide, chances are... he's one of the many, many soulless bodies being kept at the morgue. As an unchanged human, unless he gained some of the abilities of a shade, he would be just as vulnerable as any of Bavan's citizens. Maybe even moreso, given how unfamiliar he is with Ryslig.]
If you want, tomorrow while I'm in the city for work, I can go to the 38-8. You can come along with, or stay here. Either way I'll ask after him, to see if anyone knows where he might be. Okay?
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Basil's expression twists, at that. And for a moment, he can't meet his gaze at all. He knows he's trying to help, genuinely, and he appreciates that more than anything.
But...
The grip of Basil's hands along Fugo, now more slight than it was before, tightens a fraction.]
Mr. Komaeda...he said...
[...]
...he said that he was probably dead.
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There is-- always that chance, when one of us goes missing.
[Frenzied, dead, or returned to the sea of stars. When someone goes missing, it's almost always one of those three.]
If he did die, this week... chances are that he'll come back, with the next fog. We all do. The fog doesn't let go of us that easily.
[This is likely cold comfort, given that Basil can't remember why he was supposed to meet Katurian.]
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It all feels very selfish of him, for that to be his main worry...but he can't help it. It's been on his mind ever since he came to in the city.]
W...when is the next fog?
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[All things considered, it isn't that long of a time. But for Basil, who has barely been in Ryslig for that long himself-- whose memory of the past week is completely blank-- it probably seems horribly long.]
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In the end, Basil is just thankful he can be here. He isn't sure how he'd cope with having to be alone right now, in a small apartment, even if he's not particularly up for being around a lot of people...it still means everything just having them all here, ambiently.]
Okay...
[He just has to accept it for now. There's no point in dwelling over it, even though he knows he will in spite of himself.]
I'm...I'm going to stay at the house for a while.
[Until he's forced to leave when the changes hit, in fact.]
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[To be honest, hearing that Basil doesn't want to leave the palazzo is a relief. Basil is old enough to decide for himself what he wants to do, so Fugo has no intention of insisting that he needs a chaperone when he visits Bavan. Even so, Fugo can't help but worry for him when he's by himself. As much as he resents the fact that the fog changes them at all, the reality of their situation is that all newcomers are particularly vulnerable until theirs begin. And Basil is small for his age; easily frightened, easily cowed. He is an easy target, for those who have been transformed by the fog and those who live in fear of it.
Fugo knows better than to expect the world to be kind to him. So he's very glad, that Basil will stay at the safest place he knows on the peninsula.]
Are you hungry? How long has it been since you've eaten anything?
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[Basil flusters because, well.]
I don't...remember. Since I was here last, I think...
[He absolutely did not eat anything as a Shade, and that was an entire week's worth of time. But that probably saved him from starving to death or something drastic like that, you know how Ryslig can be.]
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You should probably eat something, then. It doesn't have to be much, but you'll regret it in the morning if you go to bed without eating.
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But before he can go...he has to ask.]
...will you still be here?
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What do you mean? I'm going with you, of course.
[Already, he's thinking about what's in the fridge. There are some leftovers, of course, which would be easiest. But if Basil is in the mood for something else, Fugo wouldn't mind making him something fresh at all. And of course he'll have to make him some tea.]
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The way he says it- I'm going with you, of course- as if it never was a possibility...makes Basil swallow hard against the lump that suddenly forms in his throat, his eyes darting down for a second to look sheepishly at his feet as he pushes himself properly upright.]
Oh. R...right.
["I just didn't want to bother you"
"You don't have to"
"If you're busy, I can go by myself"]
...thank you.
cw: allusions to past abuse
It's okay. [Fugo falls quiet, rolling a thought in his mind. Then, when he speaks, he offers Basil his hand.] When you're used to taking care of things on your own... it's just easier to expect that people won't be there.
[From a very early age, Fugo learned not to expect things. Of course his parents were never home to eat with them; they had more important things to do. Of course his brothers wouldn't let him into their room after a bad dream; they hated him, because being a prodigy was more novel than a matched pair of twins. Of course his grandfather would never tell him it's alright if he produced less than perfect results on a test or at the piano bench; his high expectations were meant to help Fugo grow.
Expecting nothing meant less disappointment. Wanting nothing meant hurting less, even if only by a little.]
I need to be reminded it doesn't have to be that way too, some-- [A pause. Then he smiles, a bit self-deprecating, and shakes his head.] Often.
It surprises me all the time, that I don't have to be alone if I don't want to be.
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But despite that, he takes Fugo's hand to hold. He's in a position right now where he isn't sure he really cares about all of that stuff.]
T-then...I think I'd rather not be alone, right now.
[He decides to be honest, too, if Fugo is going to be honest with him.]
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Let's go together, then. [Fugo carefully squeezes Basil's hand, then moves toward the door.] I'll stay with you.
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It's not a thought for now. All that matters now is that he's safe, and nothing can take that from him.
He'll just learn to cherish these moments, because they're so fleeting.]