[And now that Giorno is here, he'll be able to see the way Polnareff lights up at that moniker. One day the reaction won't be so visible, so best enjoy it while it lasts.]
How's it, Giorno? C'mere--
[He scoots, making room should Giorno want to sit. He still doesn't have much of an idea as to how Giorno can use Gold Experience-- but animals will probably be involved, so best to stay out of the way.]
[He glances around the room briefly, apparently concentrating on something. It takes a little work, because they're not outside, but . . . there's wood in the walls, of course, and there's always some kind of vegetation around, even if you can't see it. After a moment, he puts a hand in his pocket and draws out a few buttons, then lays them on the ground next to his foot before toeing his shoe off. He presses the sole of his foot down to cover them, and—]
[There's a brief glow, and the sense that something's shifting, like the feeling of standing in the middle of a thick forest during the spring thaw but accelerated times ten.]
[And then, all of a sudden, the floor is carpeted with tulips, so thick that the floor's no longer visible; they're yellow-orange and crawl halfway up the walls, open and facing Giorno as though he is the sun.]
[Okay, so-- it's not like he doubted him, but there's a difference between knowing something factually and seeing it springing out of his carpet. Polnareff leans over his bed, peering down at the tulips. After a moment-- gently, because he remembers the warning about Jolie-- he brushes his fingers against a tulip head. It's just as real as the otter, as far as he can tell.
This is . . . he glances over at his Giorno. This is beyond simple speed or strength. This is-- what? Bringing things to life, and somehow the implications didn't quite sink in until just now.]
[He's seen that look before; of course he has. Maybe Polnareff will understand now why it is he feels so responsible when someone dies and he can't bring them back. He has all of this power, but of course it's not quite enough.]
[That, at least, gets a smile. He's still a little off-kilter, which is to Giorno's benefit; it means his hair stays unmussed. And the sentiment-- it's hard to say, for reasons he can't fathom, but Giorno deserves the effort. God knows he does. So, after a slight pause:]
Ti vo-- voglio bene to you too.
[It's only slightly mispronounced. He's doing this best. And then there's the flowers to focus on, definitely not that sentiment, and--]
So-- I'm not gonna, but if I did hurt one of these flowers-- it still goes back to you, right? Flowers or animals, it's all the same?
[Well, good. Even if it's frightening . . . and he knows it must be, he knows that when Polnareff looks at him he still doesn't quite see everything there is to see about Giorno — even if that, he has to know that Giorno loves him. It doesn't mean everything, but it has to mean something.]
[He curls his toes and tucks his foot back under the bed.]
Mmhm. Anything I make. And I can make anything alive . . . I could make, oh, bacteria if I wanted to. It doesn't matter, if you try to hurt it you get hurt instead. There was a man who hit one of my frogs with a shovel once and came away with a dented skull.
[It's not meant badly, although he realizes belatedly it might be taken that way. Just in case, he leans over, bumping their shoulder together. Polnareff glances down at the flowers-- they're just as real as they were a moment ago, and he traces the head of one, admiring.]
No wonder you're in charge of Italy.
[And perhaps this is the inevitable question, but he has to know:]
[He . . . sticks the tip of his tongue out of his mouth, then bites down on it delicately. He knew this was coming, of course, but still.]
It would be inadvisable to try. I . . . tried to bring someone back from the dead once, and it would have been better if I hadn't. I feel that trying to make a human being from nothing would be . . . significantly worse.
Besides, that's—
[For a moment he stops, then tilts a tight smile at Polnareff.]
That sounds like something Dio would do, doesn't it?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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my son
my stand is based around fencing
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my father
my stand is based around being perfect all the time
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[He's being sassy today, he thinks vaguely. It's not entirely bad, but it does make him wonder if something is up.]
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you ought to show me more of that sometime
i liked seeing it
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WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO
I CAN SHOW YOU SO MANY THINGS
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come by if you want
or tonight
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[no jk he knocks but then he just walks right in, all smiles]
Papaaaa!
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How's it, Giorno? C'mere--
[He scoots, making room should Giorno want to sit. He still doesn't have much of an idea as to how Giorno can use Gold Experience-- but animals will probably be involved, so best to stay out of the way.]
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[And he's wedged himself next to Polnareff and under his arm almost immediately, because that's where he belongs, so. Deal with it.]
Mm, did you know I helped grow the flowers around the house? [And covering the house . . . and in the garden behind the house . . .]
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No shit?
[Huh. Well, flowers are alive, so he supposes that falls under Gold Experience's umbrella.]
All of them? How long did it take?
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[He wiggles his fingers a little.]
Just because there are more of them, it doesn't take longer. It just takes more concentration, really.
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Can you show me?
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[What kind of flowers are there?]
Tulips?
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[He glances around the room briefly, apparently concentrating on something. It takes a little work, because they're not outside, but . . . there's wood in the walls, of course, and there's always some kind of vegetation around, even if you can't see it. After a moment, he puts a hand in his pocket and draws out a few buttons, then lays them on the ground next to his foot before toeing his shoe off. He presses the sole of his foot down to cover them, and—]
[There's a brief glow, and the sense that something's shifting, like the feeling of standing in the middle of a thick forest during the spring thaw but accelerated times ten.]
[And then, all of a sudden, the floor is carpeted with tulips, so thick that the floor's no longer visible; they're yellow-orange and crawl halfway up the walls, open and facing Giorno as though he is the sun.]
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[Okay, so-- it's not like he doubted him, but there's a difference between knowing something factually and seeing it springing out of his carpet. Polnareff leans over his bed, peering down at the tulips. After a moment-- gently, because he remembers the warning about Jolie-- he brushes his fingers against a tulip head. It's just as real as the otter, as far as he can tell.
This is . . . he glances over at his Giorno. This is beyond simple speed or strength. This is-- what? Bringing things to life, and somehow the implications didn't quite sink in until just now.]
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[He's seen that look before; of course he has. Maybe Polnareff will understand now why it is he feels so responsible when someone dies and he can't bring them back. He has all of this power, but of course it's not quite enough.]
[He leans up and kisses Polnareff on the cheek.]
Ti voglio bene, Papa. You know?
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[That, at least, gets a smile. He's still a little off-kilter, which is to Giorno's benefit; it means his hair stays unmussed. And the sentiment-- it's hard to say, for reasons he can't fathom, but Giorno deserves the effort. God knows he does. So, after a slight pause:]
Ti vo-- voglio bene to you too.
[It's only slightly mispronounced. He's doing this best. And then there's the flowers to focus on, definitely not that sentiment, and--]
So-- I'm not gonna, but if I did hurt one of these flowers-- it still goes back to you, right? Flowers or animals, it's all the same?
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[He curls his toes and tucks his foot back under the bed.]
Mmhm. Anything I make. And I can make anything alive . . . I could make, oh, bacteria if I wanted to. It doesn't matter, if you try to hurt it you get hurt instead. There was a man who hit one of my frogs with a shovel once and came away with a dented skull.
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[It's not meant badly, although he realizes belatedly it might be taken that way. Just in case, he leans over, bumping their shoulder together. Polnareff glances down at the flowers-- they're just as real as they were a moment ago, and he traces the head of one, admiring.]
No wonder you're in charge of Italy.
[And perhaps this is the inevitable question, but he has to know:]
Could you make a person?
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It would be inadvisable to try. I . . . tried to bring someone back from the dead once, and it would have been better if I hadn't. I feel that trying to make a human being from nothing would be . . . significantly worse.
Besides, that's—
[For a moment he stops, then tilts a tight smile at Polnareff.]
That sounds like something Dio would do, doesn't it?
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