[Blood will work just fine. That's what this is all about anyway, isn't it? Blood for family, blood for death, blood for brothers found and lost and left behind, blood for lines drawn in the sand. So what if they bleed a little - with the power he has at his fingertips, he can save almost (almost) anyone.]
[There's an arrogance, a cockiness rising in him now, and he doesn't try to hide it away. He stands ramrod-straight on the beach with his shoes sinking into the soft cold sand, and all he can remember is Diavolo and the bodies he left behind. Abbacchio with a hole in his gut, Narancia bleeding from the mouth, and Bruno, his spirit watching and then fading away.]
[Not everything is Diavolo's fault. But that man should carry a lot of what's currently on Giorno's shoulders.]
[Gold Experience turns to look before its user does. It skims light fingers along Giorno's shoulder, grabs his attention, then watches Star Platinum only. Its movements are more graceful even than usual, somehow, or maybe it's just that it's moving more; in contrast with its typical efficiency of movement, it seems in constant motion now, its hand shifting from Giorno's shoulder to the small of his back, pushing his hair out of his face as he turns against the wind. There's a shyness that's been eliminated, a wall that's come down. This is raw honesty, maybe, for a few minutes.]
[Giorno cocks his head at the sound of the backpack falling to the sand, as if he can discern what's in there just by listening. It's tempting to try. Instead, he just turns to Jotaro and considers him, his expression not just neutral but blank. Wrung out.]
no subject
[There's an arrogance, a cockiness rising in him now, and he doesn't try to hide it away. He stands ramrod-straight on the beach with his shoes sinking into the soft cold sand, and all he can remember is Diavolo and the bodies he left behind. Abbacchio with a hole in his gut, Narancia bleeding from the mouth, and Bruno, his spirit watching and then fading away.]
[Not everything is Diavolo's fault. But that man should carry a lot of what's currently on Giorno's shoulders.]
[Gold Experience turns to look before its user does. It skims light fingers along Giorno's shoulder, grabs his attention, then watches Star Platinum only. Its movements are more graceful even than usual, somehow, or maybe it's just that it's moving more; in contrast with its typical efficiency of movement, it seems in constant motion now, its hand shifting from Giorno's shoulder to the small of his back, pushing his hair out of his face as he turns against the wind. There's a shyness that's been eliminated, a wall that's come down. This is raw honesty, maybe, for a few minutes.]
[Giorno cocks his head at the sound of the backpack falling to the sand, as if he can discern what's in there just by listening. It's tempting to try. Instead, he just turns to Jotaro and considers him, his expression not just neutral but blank. Wrung out.]
[Eventually:]
I sent him to hell, you know. Diavolo.