[It doesn't fit in with the narrative he'd started to build for himself. Dio does not get to be something so human as a father; he doesn't get to let a woman escape, knowing she bore his child. It's an act of mercy, or maybe just an experiment-- but it sits badly in Polnareff's mind.
There are things he wants to ask. What was your name before, and what did your stepfather do-- because he can hear the words unspoken, knows how to fill in the blanks. And there's anger, too, hot and too late, because--
Giorno, age five, too small to understand, abused and neglected and just another life that Dio had ruined by coming near. They were around. They could have saved him, if they'd known. If they'd looked around a bit more, investigated more deeply, swept through Dio's mansion more thoroughly. Go home and rest, Jotaro had said; they'd come back later and go through the remains of the mansion. Jotaro and Joseph had wanted to see Holly; he'd wanted to go back to France. He'd wanted it all to be over. But if he hadn't--
He's not blaming himself, because there's nothing he's done that he ought to take blame for. But there's-- regret, maybe. If only you'd known, and he would have taken Giorno in an instant. Swept in and made it right, like the knight he tries so hard to be.
Very gently, he reaches out, two fingers brushing against Giorno's cheek.]
I didn't understand, when Jotaro told me to get toys. I thought you'd hate it, that a seventeen year old would want things like-- god, I don't know. For teenagers. For adults. But--
[God, he wants to make this right.]
Jotaro acted-- surprised, I think, that I considered him family. That he was the one I'd call to first, but I told him-- who else is there? I don't have any blood relatives, but I'm not alone-- and neither are you. Blood doesn't mean shit around here-- you know that, right?
no subject
There are things he wants to ask. What was your name before, and what did your stepfather do-- because he can hear the words unspoken, knows how to fill in the blanks. And there's anger, too, hot and too late, because--
Giorno, age five, too small to understand, abused and neglected and just another life that Dio had ruined by coming near. They were around. They could have saved him, if they'd known. If they'd looked around a bit more, investigated more deeply, swept through Dio's mansion more thoroughly. Go home and rest, Jotaro had said; they'd come back later and go through the remains of the mansion. Jotaro and Joseph had wanted to see Holly; he'd wanted to go back to France. He'd wanted it all to be over. But if he hadn't--
He's not blaming himself, because there's nothing he's done that he ought to take blame for. But there's-- regret, maybe. If only you'd known, and he would have taken Giorno in an instant. Swept in and made it right, like the knight he tries so hard to be.
Very gently, he reaches out, two fingers brushing against Giorno's cheek.]
I didn't understand, when Jotaro told me to get toys. I thought you'd hate it, that a seventeen year old would want things like-- god, I don't know. For teenagers. For adults. But--
[God, he wants to make this right.]
Jotaro acted-- surprised, I think, that I considered him family. That he was the one I'd call to first, but I told him-- who else is there? I don't have any blood relatives, but I'm not alone-- and neither are you. Blood doesn't mean shit around here-- you know that, right?