ic inbox ( ǣfenglōm )

[digiorno]

"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

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dream nonsense, early february;

[sageprincess]

[Giorno Giovanna... has a dream.

--No, not that kind of dream. Though he does dream of a castle - and a throne room, specifically - the cool grey stone adorned with gold-embroidered sky blue tapestries does not bring to mind any buildings in Napoli. None of the people within wear anything close to modern clothing, either; most of them are all draped with colorful, yet heavy fabrics though picking out the exact form of each is... difficult.

The vast majority of people in this court are little more than watercolor blurs, vague approximations of people filling the scene. The knights, garbed in silver and blue, have a little more detail to them as they hold a path open through the crowd between the throne and the door, but even their faces are... generic, unmemorable.

Three figures are held in absolute clarity in this scene. The first is the king sitting upon the throne, obvious in his authority. An older man, his pale blonde hair is starting to go grey underneath his crown and around the edges of his closely trimmed beard. A cool, almost chilly air seems to surround him as he watches his court with practiced neutrality; he's clearly ruled for a while.

The second is surrounded by a much warmer aura, despite her tall, imposing figure and stern expression. She stands on the king's left hand side like a solider at parade rest - a strong and proper stance that displays both her pride and her commitment to the duty her apparent position requires.

And finally, standing just in front of the stern woman and barely coming up to her hip... is a girl, ten years old at most. Her finery and position indicate a close relation to the king, as do the little curls of blonde hair that peek out from under her headdress. Bits of baby fat still cling to her cheeks, making the frown she wears as she watches the door on the far side of the room look much more like a grumpy pout, but Giorno will find her big blue eyes quite familiar...

Anticipation hangs heavily in the air. They're all... waiting for something...]

cries again about baby zelda

[digiorno]

[This is not his dream. Giorno realizes this as soon as his eyes open. There are a lot of tells. He has never seen this castle, or in fact any castle like this, in person; it looks like what one might find in a history book, or in a fantasy movie. Furthermore, this isn't the type of dream he has. He dreams of the grandiose, the mundane, or the terrifying. Nothing so foreign to his own experience.]

[Of course, there's one other big sign that this dream doesn't belong to him. He doesn't look like himself, although the sense of his soul is the same. If she remembers this when she wakes, Zelda will know that it was Giorno in her dream, but he looks like a different person entirely, with short dark hair and dark eyes that gaze unreadably around the room. The creeping sense of familiarity applies not only to the boy himself but the skittish wildcat air he gives off, as though he might bolt at any moment. She's felt it before, through the Bond. More than once.]

[But for now, his Zelda isn't here. There is a court scene, again like out of a fantasy film, full of people whose pointed ears have become as familiar as the back of his own hand. It isn't until his eyes alight on the girl that he really understands, though. Whatever this is, that's Zelda. There's no question about it. No matter what else is going on, he needs to be with her. That's why he's here.]

[Going around the edge of the room to approach her seems like a truly stupid idea and a great way of getting an arrow through the head, but he moves to do it without even thinking. It's only halfway through the motion that he recognizes it as the mistake it might be, but by then he's already made up his mind.]

Your Highness? [Murmured once he gets close enough, attempting to be unobtrusive and knowing that he's failing.] Is everything all right?

she was adorable before the trauma

[noblabbermouths]

[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.]

[digiorno]

[Even in a dream, Giorno knows better than to mess with a woman so clearly protective of a child. As much as he wants to get closer to Zelda, to make sure she's all right, he has to admit to himself that she's clearly better protected by the woman guarding her than she would be with him. Besides, he doesn't want to get the shit beat out of him in front of a tiny version of his Bonded. So he holds up his hands, palms out — see? no weapons — and retreats by a good few feet.]

[But then the voice rings out, and the doors open, and he feels that . . . what? What is it? His eyes, wide and dark, refocus on the enormous man who's entered the hall and so drastically changed the atmosphere. It's uncomfortable. It feels as though all the crushing ozone pressure of an entire thunderstorm is being condensed into this one room. The hair on the back of his neck stands up.]

[He glances at Zelda, then at the guard standing behind her, eyes stark with panic. Why is she letting this happen? This man who is a clear threat, why is he allowed to be so close to Zelda?]

[noblabbermouths]

[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?]

[digiorno]

[That does provide a good deal of clarity, actually, not just about the immediate situation. After all, Zelda has always been vigilant. Growing up in constant war likely isn’t the only reason for such an attitude, but it makes a lot of sense as a contributing factor. A future generation that doesn’t know war sounds very nice, but Zelda isn’t part of that generation, unfortunately.]

[It makes sense, too, why Zelda hates this man Ganondorf so much. Whether he’s here for peace treaties or not, he’s responsible for a great deal of bloodshed that has overtaken Zelda’s entire life thus far. That, and . . . something else. It’s not just that, is it, or her guard wouldn’t be so incandescent as well.]

[His attention is torn from the proceedings back to Zelda as her gaze lands on him, as her question rings in his mind. Nodding smoothly, he hesitates only for a moment before offering a message of his own in return, even though he’s unsure of whether it will make its way to her in this dream.]

[I want to help in any way I can. I want to help you to protect your kingdom.]