Steven Grant (
summonthesuit) wrote2022-05-22 08:26 pm
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IC Inbox | Ryslig
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I suppose it could have been a side effect of the fog in that wasteland. An outside force altering your nature and driving you to feed, rather than an inside force acting on its own desires. [He acquiesces, and his tone is so different than it was when he was questioning Steven. For a moment, he sounds nearly disappointed. And why wouldn't he be? For a moment he dared to imagine that this table could be seating three — that someone here just might understand him.] That would neatly explain why it has not happened since. It — hasn't, correct?
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[Which might already imply something to Diavolo, but... Well, Steven's already talking now. And for some reason, he feels like he can really open up to this man. It might be because Diavolo has been a very nice, reasonable listener up until now. Or it might be because Diavolo's evoking a sense of kinship. Either way, it spurs him on to keep going.]
Um. It felt similar to something that'd happen back home, so that's not very nature-altering, is it?
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I know of someone, [he says, softly, not breaking his intense stare,] who might say the same. Go on. Tell me what is so familiar about losing control.
[It could be nothing. He could have been a man prone to wild mood swings and nothing more — or it could be the answer Diavolo is searching for. What connects them? Why did the Fog fashion them into forms so similar?]
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Steven's tells, at the moment, are entirely his own. A pained frown, the thinning of his lips... His index finger taps against the side of the coffee cup. Marc scolded him for telling others, that first day he came to Ryslig. But really, what was that? Two weeks in more than six months- just a meaningless speck of time, and Marc might never come back again. Just as it always does, that thought fills him with a combination of loss and spite. He swallows thickly, his gaze still stuck on the table's surface.]
Back home, it's not... just me, living in this body. My mind- Our mind got split up over time. It started when we were young lads, but me, the way I am now... I didn't really exist as a full person 'till a few years ago, I expect. And I didn't... [He breaks off for a second, interrupted by a sharp chuckle-like breath that doesn't hold a shred of amusement to it. It's strained and almost desperate.] I didn't even know that he was there. I didn't know my memories were just made up. 'Cause he didn't want me to know, did he? The whole point of me was to live a normal, carefree life. But he'd have to take control sometimes- when I was in danger, and that... That was what it felt like. 'Cept, he's not here now. It's just me. So it can't be him, can it?
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If Steven were to look up, he would see the smile playing on Diavolo's lips, slight at first and quickly growing into something he cannot fully contain.]
No, [he agrees.] It can't. It is beyond the Fog God's capabilities to pluck two souls from a world and place them into the same body. I know this to be true. I have asked her. But ... that does not mean you are alone.
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With that realization, he sits up straighter, lifting his head upwards again to look Diavolo's way properly.]
Oh... Why is that? [He's got several answers coming to him, one more literal than the next, so he'd like to know what exactly Diavolo's getting at.]
local neph is surely COMPLETELY misreading the situation but hes convinced hes right
[Or one precedent, at least — in the form of the deer. The smile does not fade, and Diavolo's tail flicks behind him, an unconscious act, infrequent in this form. Angels do not have the same instincts as beasts. But, despite that, sometimes a revelation is tail-flickingly intriguing, and so he allows it.]
OOOH BOI
[The words slip out with so much ease, he comes to regret them immediately. Cervo had asked him before whether he was afraid of having another in his body. And he isn't- not in the broad sense. He's afraid of the implied details, the fine print. So he shakes his head harshly, trying to correct himself as fast as possible.]
Not of- of them. But if there is someone else, it means they haven't gotten to come out for months on end. It's like being in a prison, innit? 'Cept worse.
[With that, he finally raises the coffee cup to his lips. There's a bitter taste forming in his mouth, and he'd like to wash it down.]
he is processing this all from his own perspective
[What Diavolo knows best is what Diavolo has lived. He was content to curl up, to live a life in the shadows, to be left with his own thoughts while Doppio attended the needs of their daily life. If ever there was a time where, for months, he wasn't needed, not to crush opposition, to type up an email, to tend to something that Doppio could or would not — he would be perfectly fine with it.]
You think of them as imprisoned, but ... nothing is stopping them from emerging, correct? They may simply be content with the way things are.
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I hope that's what it is. But what if it's not? What if hunger's the only thing that gives them enough power to take the body? Or it's the only thing that can open that... [He gestures erratically between himself and Diavolo as he tries to find the right word.] That door between us? Keeping fed could be what's stopping them from emerging, but if I... If I go hungry to test it, who's to say they won't feed on one of my mates? Who's to say they even exist at all?
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[Diavolo is committed; he speaks as though there being two of them is a given. It is what he wants to be true, if only to have someone to relate to.]
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[He doesn't know if he can test it. He made a promise to Quentin that he'd always feed in time, and since they hunt together, the man will know if he skips out on 'meals'. And if things do go wrong and Steven loses himself to someone who will feed on the first person they see, chances are that person would be Quentin too. He can't risk that.
He takes a quick sip of his coffee again.]
I tried putting up notes in my flat. So if they were to wake up at some point, they'd see them. Maybe write back. Hasn't happened yet, though.
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[Doppio is a glaring exception to that rule. No questioning, no doubt, no shame. Pick up the "phone" and speak.]
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I tried. The only way I know how, anyway.
[He's spoken plenty with Marc, back when they were both aware of each other. It'd felt a little strange at first, but it'd been easy enough to get the hang of. That trick doesn't work anymore, though. His reflections are just him and the more he tries to get in touch with anyone else, the sillier he feels about it.]
If they are regularly conscious, they're not willing to answer. Or can't.
oops my momentum fell off. i return
Then, I suppose, you are at an impasse. It must be frustrating to be so close yet have no answers. If you do not wish to test their limits, and they do not wish to communicate ... then all you can do is wait for them to reveal themselves on their own terms. "You", I presume, will be pushed to the wayside once more when it happens. I hope you have a plan in place beforehand. If they are as erratic and violent as your story suggests, you must be prepared.
Yay!~
... How am I meant to prepare for someone who basically knocks me unconscious? And if they're aware of anything I do, they'll be aware of any plans I make to restrain them, won't they? [He pauses for a few seconds, his frown straining even further.] I can't... ask anyone else to get involved. 'Cause I don't want anyone to get hurt. Or worse.
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[They — if they do exist — have every right to their existence. Steven's concern here is safety; while it is not what interests Diavolo most about this subject, he plays into it.]
You can make steps to ensure that those you care about are kept safe. I do not know how similar the two of you look, but ... suppose someone approaches them, unsuspecting, thinking they are speaking to you. What will happen then? What is it drives them to action? Self-defense, hunger, anger, jealousy, something else...? Can you give those you cherish a proper warning if you do not even know what you aim to protect them from? If you do not speak, you will never find the answers. If you cannot speak, then someone else must do it on your behalf.
[His intensity ramps up as he speaks. He maintains a low tone, serious and sincere, but it's hard to disguise the intrigue he feels at the prospect of this other half to Steven.]
And I am willing to be that person.
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All the more reason for Diavolo's offer to catch him off guard. He sets his coffee cup down, astounded.]
Ah- No, I couldn't ask that of you. What if you get attacked?
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Then either I will hold them off, or I will be killed in my attempt. [It's a simple fact, a nonchalant statement.] But, you need not be concerned — I would not strike to kill, knowing that both of your lives are at stake.
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No- No, nooo...! If... If striking to kill is the best option, you gotta strike to kill. It's better that I die, innit? 'Cause I definitely don't want you to die.
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I have died before. Four times, by my count, here in Ryslig — and each time I return, and each time I learn a harsh lesson on what not to do. [Drolly, he recites:] Not to make requests of Mana without fully ensuring she understands precisely what it is that I desire. Not to fall victim to the whims of my own monstrous mind and blindly attack those who outnumber me. Not to spill my secrets in desperation; the risk far outweighs the benefit. Not to stare down a beast driven solely by starvation and read malice into every bite he takes of me.
[The scars, weak as they make him feel, serve as constant reminders to do better.]
Regardless, I do not see why it matters to you. If I die, I die — and I learn not to make that mistake again.
[Though ... there is someone who would miss him dearly if he was gone, no matter how brief his absence. He understands that now. So perhaps he should not be so careless in his curiosity.]
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... Sorry. Maybe it's none of my business, but the way I see it, four times is four times too many. You learned a lesson, but you lost something in return, didn't you? Memories? I don't think you should let those slip away so easily.
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[By Marco and Reira in particular, their concern at his occasionally flippant attitude obvious.]
You must understand that I am not alone. If I lose some important memory, some vital part of myself in death — then Doppio will be there to remind me of who I am. If, by chance, I lose something worth forgetting, then there is no harm done. There, I believe, is more to gain here than there is to lose.
[Diavolo's tail flicks. There's the slightest trace of annoyance at the way Steven denies him, but he attempts to push it down.]
But ... if it is your desire that I not interfere, then I will not press.
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It's... fine if you interfere. I just don't want it to come at the cost of your life, is all. That's just a bloody waste, innit? But if it turns out you can talk some sense into them- [His hand moves gingerly to his chest, fingers lingering above his heart.] Or you're powerful enough to keep them from causing harm... Then yeah. Go for it. Whatever it takes.
[And he does mean whatever it takes.]
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[This was not remotely the point of their meeting — but it is so much better than any of his original intentions.]
If I am correct ... then the two of you have something incredibly precious. I would hate to see that go to waste.
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welcome to diavolo's wild theorizing and worldviews based on a sample size of 1
Amazing! Beautiful!
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