digiorno | ic inbox ( ǣfenglōm )

That's the second time you've said that.

[Somewhere between exasperation and good humor, he shifts to lean his weight on the back of the bench, too uncertain about Fugo's tension to keep hands on him at the moment.]

You should know by now, if I've got something negative to say about someone I'll say it plainly.

[So, he's mean. Not right now, but generally. The point, anyway, is that if he'd had anything negative to say about Zelda, she probably wouldn't have qualified for meeting Fugo in the first place, and vice versa. Neither of them will probably believe how much he talked the other up, but that's fine. He more or less expected that.]

[As to the question — hm. His instinct is to go for the first option, because Fugo finds tea calming, but something tells him that making that choice on his own is a bad idea. He glances down to Fugo again.]

I'm fine with either. Fugo, do you have a preference?

[Please have a preference, because otherwise nobody is going anywhere.]

[Well, this is-- awkward.]

[Zelda has made a joke. It directly pokes fun at what should be the safe subject of Giorno's flair for the dramatic. But because it also has the backhand implication that Zelda isn't exactly as wonderful as Giorno has described her, Giorno won't play along. The joke... flops. Should he say something? What about the tea, or the-- ... all that's left is the invitation, which is suddenly on his shoulders.]

Tea-- would be fine. [Fugo stands; the movement is just a bit off, in that it's too stiff to be anything but nervous. As much as he wants to stay still, he finds himself anxiously smoothing down the front of his jacket. At least if they go inside, Giorno will stop nagging about his clothes.] Since it's only going to get colder.

[N... ailed it.]

[The corner of her lip twitches, the only visible sign that betrays the tension she feels. Well, Giorno will know regardless, a charged buzzing sending the Bond vibrating like a tightly strung wire, but it's the thought for appearances that she hopes counts.]

All right, come this way then. It is not too terribly far.

[She gestures the way she came, leading the boys back down the path in the direction of her house. A moment of silence passes as she fidgets with the the tips of her gloves before she decides to try again with a different tactic.]

... I am told you have shown an aptitude for magic since arriving in this city. Have you given any thought as to which schools you may wish to study, if any?

[She's really hoping this is a safe topic because she is quickly running out of ideas on how to make this feel natural.]

[He does feel the staticky tension from Zelda, which is both a good and a bad thing. Bad because it ramps up his own tension; good because it reminds him to keep it hidden, to tamp his own down to make it easier for the other two. He is the common thread here, which means it's his responsibility that this goes well.]

[Ghosting his way to Fugo's left side, leaving Zelda on the right, he slides his hand in the crook of Fugo's elbow. This time, his grip is light and easy to slip out of. He isn't sure if it's the right thing to do, but something tells him that not doing it would be worse, now that it's an established pattern.]

[To Zelda, he does his best to send calm. To share through the Bond that he thinks she's doing well, that it will be all right. He doesn't know if it sends or not, or if it feels like anything but vague good intent. Either way, he doesn't want to answer for Fugo, so for now he'll stay quiet.]

[As they begin the walk to Zelda's home, Giorno moves between them and loosely hooks their arms together. It's-- Fugo isn't sure if comforting is the right word to describe it. Grounding, maybe. It keeps him centered on the here and now. Even if he fucked up earlier, Giorno is still here with him. Still thinks it's worth introducing him to someone who has become central to his life in Aefenglom.]

Abjuration, I suppose. Alchemy. Evocation, if we're stuck here long enough. I have some knowledge and experience with medicine, first aid, and sickness, so it makes sense to build off of that.

[Is that the right choice? Giorno has never mentioned trying to create a spell that could recreate Purple Haze's virus. Not for the first time when thinking of his Stand, Fugo finds himself feeling almost lonely. He never liked Purple Haze, but being separated from it feels wrong.]

[Despite how nervous they all are about all of this, Zelda's expression lightens with Fugo's answer, helped by Giorno's silent reassurance.]

Your friend has sense! [She approves happily, leaning to address Giorno before returning her attention to Fugo.] We recently had a discussion about how it seems very few of our number are interested in devoting their time to such fields, despite their practicality. Admittedly, if there were more hours in a day, I would prefer to specialize in Divination myself, but Abjuration has proved to be useful more often than not in our time here.

[Her tension begins to melt away as she speaks of her studies, comfortable in the more abstract topics of magic and learning. And... utterly oblivious to the concept of Stands, and how it might be weird to wield power outside of that context. They have a point of commonality! That's good, right?]

[Despite himself, Giorno finds himself smiling down at the ground as they walk. He can't help it. The simple pleasure Zelda feels at having someone with appropriate priorities around is exactly what he was hoping for, and expecting. It feels good.]

I told you he did.

[Practically glowing. Horrible. It strikes him, now that he sees them talking, how badly he wanted this exact outcome — because he wants them both to have another friend here.]

He's very good at first aid, [he adds, quiet and subtle, or as subtle as he gets. For this part of the conversation, he really does want to fade into the background.]

[Oddly enough, the one-two combo of Zelda sudden enthusiasm followed up by Giorno's compliment half-startles Fugo's nerves out into the open. What. What? He's not sure he believes Giorno, given that Giorno was witness to the whole... stapler and duct tape situation. With Mista's bullet wounds. He bites the inside of his cheek and resists the urge to blurt something stupid, like admitting he's never been certified or formally trained.]

Results. [Wait, no, that's-- that belongs in the middle of the sentence.] Abjuration-- ... the goal of healing, medical or magical, is to restore or protect the body's status quo. It's not very visible in most circumstances. It requires a lot of knowledge of the body and how it works-- doctors never really stop studying. When it comes to developing a skill, most people would rather approach something that yields results that are easier to measure or show off.

[He pauses, still unsure, before offering this final thought:]

And given the state of conflict, after losing their own abilities, I imagine most people would rather study magic they could use to fight or protect themselves.

[Giorno is satisfied. Perhaps a little too satisfied, really, but it's enough to give her another little boost to her confidence that she's doing well. Fugo clearly isn't soothed in the same way, but there's no need to point that out, right?]

I admit that you do have a point. [Though this is accompanied by a dismissive wave of her hand, so she doesn't think it's that solid of an argument.] It just seems frustratingly short-sighted to me. It is not as though one can wield a sword very well if one is left bleeding out on the ground. Not that I expect every witch to become a medical scholar, but to refuse to even consider learning on the basis of it not being "exciting" enough feels terribly irresponsible.

[AND DON'T EVEN GET HER STARTED ON SHOW OFFS. She shakes her head to clear it before she can get going on that particular rant.]

That is to say... I would be happy to assist you with the basics, should that interest you.

Edited (remember to choose an icon, self) 2019-11-22 20:04 (UTC)

[Look, in fairness to Fugo there, he did ask if Mista would go to the hospital. One can only be as smart as the stupidest wheel allows. Under the circumstances, the duct tape and staple solution was a clever one. According to Giorno, who is biased.]

Not everyone is responsible, unfortunately.

[Quiet and amused.]

And not everyone here has lived through the sorts of dangers we might be used to. The average person might take their own physical safety for granted . . . at least until they'd been here a while.

[During Zelda's rant, the arm that Giorno claimed goes tight and tense with nerves; it slowly relaxes as it becomes clear that Zelda's frustration is directed at the group at large. Honestly, he agrees with her. It is short-sighted to ignore easily accessible medical knowledge, especially given the overall uncertainty of their current environment.]

Even so, you'd think coming here would be a rude awakening. [But that's-- almost neither here nor there, because now there's an offer on the table. Of lessons? Or at least advice.] Anything you have to pass along would be helpful. I'm not-- [He sighs, sounding a little frustrated.] Our world doesn't have magic. I know I can adapt, but the mindset is completely foreign to me.

[Case in point: how can Giorno become a fruit bat. Where does his mass go. Where does his brain go. Don't worry about it, is what Giorno has said, but he can't help but worry about it. Magic doesn't make sense and, oh, he hates it.]

Oh? I thought--

[She glances to Giorno then, seemingly surprised to hear that their world isn't one with magic. He... said he could heal, back home? Is that something he doesn't tell people usually? There's a clear moment of something not clicking right in her mind, but she decides she's probably better off biting her tongue, just in case.

... But now there are two Giorno-adjacent people mildly preoccupied with things that don't make sense.]

It... does take some acclimation, even for those who have wielded magic before. But fortunately this world's systems are... flexible, to an extent. There are many approaches to creating any kind of effect; it will just be a matter of finding the one that comes most naturally to you. I know there is at least one group that crafts illusions through music, for example.

[Oh. She made an assumption, then? A frisson of surprise and then understanding. After some thought, he gives a one-shouldered shrug.]

No magic, no. Other things. I can tell you more later if you'd like. [Although he glances at Fugo. Not about Purple Haze, obviously, but — how much does he hate this idea?]

[He lets out an interested sound, though, at that idea.] That must be so fiddly. Writing a whole, what are they — etude? — for a single illusion. A beautiful idea, though.

[Fugo's ears turn red, embarrassed to be caught in something that's not quite a lie-- but isn't really the truth either. Stands aren't magic. They often defy explanation, but there's nothing magical about them. When did Giorno tell Zelda about them? How much does she know? He bites his cheek and, rather than blurting out any more stupid comments about Stands, forces his thoughts to the other subject of their conversation.]

... you could probably do it the other way around. Create an illusion based on a piece of music that has already been composed. Either way, I suppose that's-- reassuring.

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