[In another world, the sun would be setting on the first day of the new year. But Samuin was months ago in Aefenglom. To the people of this city, the first day of Ieneuer is no more or less special than any other first day of a new month. The city moves around them much as it always has, buzzing with news of the ship from Dorchacht, tense with anxiety over the refugees.
In hindsight, Fugo doesn't really know why he picked this particular date. When he finally worked up the nerve to ask Giorno if he would go through the Bonding ceremony with him, they could have gone straight to the Coven right then and there. But he didn't-- want that. He thought he needed the extra time to prepare. There's a vow involved. Even if this whole arrangement is out of necessity, he doesn't want to just-- say something trite, or stupid, or meaningless.]
[So he didn't sleep well. Hasn't slept well for a long while now, but last night was particularly bad in that he didn't sleep at all. Nerves are nothing new for Fugo, but it's rare to see him so fidgety in public; smoothing down his long jacket, picking and nibbling at his fingers, anxiously pacing the halls of the Coven while they waited for their entirely unnecessary appointment. And now that they're standing in front of the door to the magic circle where it will really happen, his back and shoulders feel like one knotted tangle of tension. He turns to look at Giorno, heart racing, eyes wide with worry.]
Are you ready?
[It's a stupid question. He hates it, even as he can't stop himself from asking it. He's the one who's dragged his feet to the point it's become risky for him to work even simple, beginner's magic. Even now, he can feel the magic smoldering just underneath his skin. But he has to leave that door open. Just in case Giorno has changed his mind, but doesn't know how to bring it up.]
backdated to 1/1
In hindsight, Fugo doesn't really know why he picked this particular date. When he finally worked up the nerve to ask Giorno if he would go through the Bonding ceremony with him, they could have gone straight to the Coven right then and there. But he didn't-- want that. He thought he needed the extra time to prepare. There's a vow involved. Even if this whole arrangement is out of necessity, he doesn't want to just-- say something trite, or stupid, or meaningless.]
[So he didn't sleep well. Hasn't slept well for a long while now, but last night was particularly bad in that he didn't sleep at all. Nerves are nothing new for Fugo, but it's rare to see him so fidgety in public; smoothing down his long jacket, picking and nibbling at his fingers, anxiously pacing the halls of the Coven while they waited for their entirely unnecessary appointment. And now that they're standing in front of the door to the magic circle where it will really happen, his back and shoulders feel like one knotted tangle of tension. He turns to look at Giorno, heart racing, eyes wide with worry.]
Are you ready?
[It's a stupid question. He hates it, even as he can't stop himself from asking it. He's the one who's dragged his feet to the point it's become risky for him to work even simple, beginner's magic. Even now, he can feel the magic smoldering just underneath his skin. But he has to leave that door open. Just in case Giorno has changed his mind, but doesn't know how to bring it up.]