digiorno: <user name="peaked"> | dnt (♛ in a myth)
giorno "menace, pronounced like versace" giovanna ([personal profile] digiorno) wrote2018-10-30 02:03 am

ic inbox ( ǣfenglōm )

"buongiorno! sorry i missed you; i'll
happily get back to you as soon
as i'm done with whatever business
i'm on. leave a message!"


⯈ text
⯈ voice
⯈ video
⯈ action
noblabbermouths: (frown ♫ meanie!)

she was adorable before the trauma

[personal profile] noblabbermouths 2020-02-10 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's... not a great idea, no, but maybe some part of Zelda's subconscious recognizes his presence, as the knights make no aggressive moves to stop his approach. The woman standing behind the younger image of Giorno's Bonded, however, does take some issue with it; her large hand falls upon the girl's shoulder protectively, not quite pulling her away from Giorno, but clearly ready to put herself between the two at a moment's notice.

It is her job to protect the princess, after all, and it is something she will do, even within said princess' mind.]


Please, step back, young man. [Her voice is as steady and immovable as the rest of her seems to be, though she is not terribly unkind in her warning.] If you have business with the princess, you may speak with her after the proceedings.

[But as for the princess herself, Giorno's question is enough to tear her glare away from the distant door, though she makes no move to answer it, comfortable under her attendant's protection. Zelda... doesn't seem like she knows quite what to make of him, however, looking at the dark haired boy with a confusion that speaks to more than just being surprised someone would dare approach her like this in her father's court. He doesn't look familiar, and yet...

A loud voice rings out across the room, and her gaze snaps back to the doors.]


If I may have your attention, please! Announcing his Highness, Ganondorf Dragmire, Prince of the Gerudo!

[The doors open, and another man steps through in perfect clarity. He is easily over seven feet tall, dwarfing everyone else in attendance, even Zelda's attendant and the king. The smile he wears as he strides towards the throne is confident, knowing.

Unlike the king, who simply feels a little uncomfortable to be around, this man almost seems to carry an aura of poison around him, like every step he takes is an affront to nature in some way.

Zelda, so small, so young, with her angelic little face glares daggers at him.]
noblabbermouths: (unsure ♫ cool story bro.)

[personal profile] noblabbermouths 2020-02-27 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[The reasoning, in theory, becomes evident a moment later when the man reaches the throne: he bends the knee, his form so proper as to imply he knows precisely what such an action means. And the curve of his lips never leaves his face.

To her credit, though she does not wear her disdain as openly as her young charge, the woman at Zelda's back does not seem to have relaxed in the slightest between speaking with Giorno and Ganondorf's entrance. Her hand remains upon the princess' shoulder, her fingers firmly pressed into the fabric of her gown. Piercing red eyes remain locked upon Ganondorf's kneeling form, and the muscles of her jaw flex with increasing tension. Neither of them appear like they want to be here, but duty demands restraint.

The king, in contrast, maintains his stoic facade, neither seeming overjoyed nor incensed by the Gerudo prince's presence. He stands after the prince kneels, arms opened to invite all in attendance to hear him. But this is a dream, and Zelda's attention was clearly captured elsewhere when this event occurred, and so when he speaks, Giorno does not so much hear words as he finds a collection of ideas entering his mind.

A long, arduous civil war, one lasting decades, if not longer. Trading assaults on towns and settlements, and terrible casualties mounting upon both sides. A ceasefire a few years ago that evolved into legitimate peace talks. And now, the hope of bridging the distance between their peoples, and building a stronger country for a future generation who will never know war.

Ganondorf nods along and doesn't interrupt, and Zelda's anger, by necessity, subsides back into that more childish pout of displeasure. It is, after all, very hard to maintain righteous indignation when your father is droning on about what seems like ancient history to you, and you are also ten years old.

Her eyes move to Giorno at some point during this, the question found in her wary curiosity resonating through his mind just the same as the king's speech.

Can I trust you?]