epitaffio | IC Inbox

Well YOU say it like they had a gun to your head!

Oh, come, now! A gun to the head would not have posed a problem.

Yeah but TREES did.

Lesson learnt. Apparently we should always carry a lighter on our person.

Aren't vampires weak to fire?
I'm pretty sure if anybody set my tree on fire I'd have died too.

'Weak to fire'? Care to test that firsthand?

Wait, you're not??

[Where'd he get that from, then?... Don't they burn vampires in movies?

Are undead deer weak to fire just because they're attuned to ice??]

Try me.

No way, then I'LL be on fire

There's a smart lad! We vampires have a few obvious vulnerabilities, but fire is not one of them. You are out of luck with the torches and lighters.

Could you stop being condescending for two seconds??

:) Until the fifth. Don't forget.

I won't.

Hey, Doppio ... I ran into a new guy with diamonds in his pink hair a couple weeks ago, he was looking for you. Just making sure you found each other.

[After the dollhouse incident resolves it takes Diavolo a short while to work up the strength to head back to Hestia's Place. There was a brief period where he deeply considered pretending the conversation between the two of them had never happened, shoving it down in his mind as something never to confront. Ignore it. It's not worth the time.

But wasn't confronting his problems head-on once his reason for living? Hadn't it given him purpose? He's been drifting, unable to take action, frightened into hiding away. The only time he's come close to his former resolve was when his mind was so clouded with hunger and desperation that he was acting more on instinct than any rational thought. If the Diavolo of the past could see him now... what would he feel? Shame? Disgust?

That's certainly what the Diavolo of the present is feeling. To think that he was once something better than he is now... he'd been so desperate to never fall from his peak. Now the thought of even beginning to ascend to those heights again feels like an impossible dream.

It's late in the evening when he makes his way to the apartments, preferring the unease of walking alone at night to the risk of being seen - or worse, talked to - in the full light of day. He doesn't bring much with him, just the laptop he'd received weeks earlier... and the doll of himself. That's something to be disposed of somewhere safer than he was staying. He'd thought for a moment about bringing some sort of weapon to defend himself should the need arise, but last time it was utterly useless. If the two are doomed to fight then Diavolo dying is a foregone conclusion. Trying to defend himself only prolongs the inevitable.

When he reaches Doppio's apartment he stands at the door for a bit, ruminating on everything that led up to this point. He'd left no message to alert Doppio when he was coming. He hopes that, somehow, catching him off-guard will be to his advantage. He needs all the advantages he can get.

And so with a hand he struggles to contain the tremor in, he knocks.]

[Diamonds in-- OH]

YES we did!

[...

Now please hold as Doppio contends with the fact that other people have been seeing the Boss's physical form.]

[It's late, but Doppio is still awake.

Granted, that may be in part because, as much as he disagrees, he's supposed to be nocturnal. He finds ways to power through the sunlight hurting his eyes, yes, but there isn't much he can do about his body feeling naturally inclined to staying up late because of... melatonin or whatever? That's what it's called, right? Should an undead deer even have melatonin?

Anyway, that's only part of it. The remainder is that he's waiting.

That can be further subdivided, too. Part of him fears that he's already missed the Boss, that his stubborn insistence on working his remaining shifts at the clinic has led to a grievous mistake. The rest of him fears... another outcome that he doesn't dare name. He doesn't want to even acknowledge it.

The Boss told him to wait. He said he'd come. And it hasn't been that long yet, so he has no reason to-- He'd have no reason to think otherwise anyway.

He's lying down when he hears a knock. The next moment, there is the audible thud of a deer man attempting to jump out of bed, getting tangled in his blanket, and falling to the floor.]

I-I'm coming! Be right there, just-- just a minute! [You know, just a second of two to free himself from his embarrassing prison and just sort of throw the blanket back roughly where it's supposed to be, and THEN he can open the door.

When he realises he's looking at the exact person he'd hoped to see, Doppio stops his gaze from going any further up so quickly that he thinks he may have pulled something in his neck, and then it occurs to him that looking at the Boss's chest instead may not be all that much better, and THEN he decides to stop thinking about why before his heart spontaneously starts beating again just so he can have another heart attack. Ultimately he spins on his hooves until his back is turned and lets himself feel some relief.]

Thank goodness! I-- I'm glad you're safe, Boss.

[There are many concerns running through Diavolo's head as he stands at the door. While Doppio worries that he'd somehow missed him, some part inside Diavolo is hoping that Doppio isn't home and his knock will be left forever unanswered. This is a meeting he does not want to have with a person he does not want to see about an incident that he does not want to discuss.

And then he hears a faint thump and a yell and almost immediately he can envision what just transpired inside. He may not have the details, but he gets the general idea. It's... concerning and relieving in equal measure. There's some sort of comfort to be found in the familiarity, even if he doesn't usually experience it from this... angle.

He brushes these thoughts aside as the door swings open, and the instant it does he hurries in, slamming the door shut behind him. A rash decision, considering the time. It's only after it clicks shut that he realizes he drew more attention with that move than he would have if he took the extra second to close the door quietly. And of course he doesn't want to be out there, where anyone could walk past and see him. But he doesn't want to be in here, either. Even if, for a few weeks, he was able to call it home. Even if it's the closest thing he has to normalcy.]

For now. [An ominous reply.] But are you well, Doppio? I heard a... concerning noise.

[He's stalling. There's no easy way to broach this conversation topic when Doppio is still being so... so... evasive?

...he'd sounded genuinely relieved.]

[For now?... Of course. Whoever inflicted those wounds on the Boss is still out there. Whether it was a random act of violence or a targeted attack, Doppio isn't sure, but... he imagines that's one of many things the Boss is here to discuss now.]

Oh, it's fine! I mean, I'm fine. [In fact, for good measure, he throws back the blanket, stretches it over the bed and pats it down flat. Absolutely no absurd accidents here.] Do you wanna sit down, Boss? Um--

[His hand hovers inches over the bed, mid-pat; he looks at the chair by his desk. It goes without saying that the Boss has the freedom of choice, and it might even be a little silly of Doppio to act like he's some kind of house guest. Which... is, nevertheless, what he kind of feels like, even after he's stayed here for several weeks. Or perhaps it's the absence in the interim that brings that feeling back to the forefront of his mind.]

I'm glad. No, I don't want to sit.

[He's not here to get comfortable. Diavolo leans his back up against the wall by the door and watches Doppio intently, not allowing any slight movement or shift in posture to go unnoticed. As he watches, he must be making all sorts of undignified expressions (grateful that Doppio doesn't look), chewing on his lower lip as he mulls over how to begin the conversation he actually came here for.

Finally, he decides on:] Doppio. You - we can't - I -

[No. That wasn't what he meant to say at all. Finding the right words has been harder for him, ever since... everything happened. He stumbles around sounds more than he ever did, and it gets so much worse at times like these when every nerve is on edge. Talking to Doppio used to be so easy. An instinct, a reflex, like breathing. This is unnatural. If things were right in the world he wouldn't even have to ask. He'd know. He'd have been there to witness everything. He never would have been hurt. He never could have been hurt.

Inhale. Exhale. If he can close his eyes and pretend for a moment that the two of them are back in Italy - back together - talking how they used to - maybe then he can find the right words. But that feels like a lifetime ago. And Doppio isn't... he can't be, he's so wrong. And so familiar. And when he's the only thing he has left...]

Just... tell me, Doppio, why you did it. I won't be angry with you. You are far too indispensable to me for that. If there's some... behavior I can correct, if there was some action I'd taken that led you to... I need to know. We can speak freely here. You have to tell me. Don't keep me in the dark any longer.

[And he braces himself for the next part, where Doppio, dutiful as ever, will surely spill everything. If being devoured wasn't enough and hearing all his faults and misdeeds echoed back to him is another part of his punishment, then he has no choice but to take it. It will eat away at him forever if he doesn't. He'll have nowhere to return to if he can't fix this.]

[Speaking of absence, it has made it no easier to get used to... the way the Boss speaks now. Faltering and vulnerable, much more so than Doppio has ever remembered him... he can't stand it. He can't stand knowing that Giorno did this.

He hasn't turned around, and his hands are still over the blanket; he fidgets, tracing faint lines with his claws as he patiently waits for the Boss to speak.

He listens.

And he doesn't understand.]

What...?

[It's hard to resist the urge to look, but he stops his neck from turning any further before anything more than the Boss's arm can enter his line of sight. It... shouldn't feel awkward to talk with his back turned, not after years of conversations with this very same disembodied voice, and yet.]

I... I'm not sure what you mean, Boss. Sorry. Did I do something wrong in the dollhouse?

No! Not at the dollhouse! Before then!

[The nervousness falters, giving way to irritation. He'd promised he wouldn't get upset, yes - but that was if Doppio was agreeable. Though... his memory was never the greatest. Could he have forgotten this? Is he being deliberately obtuse? If he's truly forgotten then perhaps it's for the best that Diavolo doesn't keep pushing... but the risk that there's something else at play is too much for him to drop the subject.]

It was on the day I... came back. I rushed here immediately and you weren't home. I called and you wouldn't answer. I waited for you but you never came. I went out, on my own, and I searched for you - I needed to know if you'd survived. I made a fool of myself, asking people -

[He hadn't meant to mention that part, but at the moment he is too heated to control what's spilling out. Desperation drives one to do the wildest things. His voice has been steadily rising in volume and he takes a moment to try to calm it. His eyes stay fixed on Doppio but he sees no recognition. He sighs, taking a heavy breath before he continues.]

It was night when when I finally found you, and you... you turned on me and you tore me into pieces. Why, Doppio? What have I done do you? What is it that you want from me?

That's good. He seemed pretty wound up about not being able to find you. I did send him to Liewen Labs for a laptop, too, since he didn't know about that. Hope Noa got him set up.

[He doesn't understand. Doppio really, truly does not understand.]

... You called?

[Here he was, just minutes ago, fearing that he would miss the Boss, and it turns out he already has. Has he ever been so out of it that even a call couldn't wake him up?... Come to think of it, he has no way of knowing the answer to that question, does he? He just assumes that can't be the case, because the Boss has never mentioned having trouble reaching him, to the best of his memory.

... And granted, the best of his memory isn't much. Doppio knows that. But even he wouldn't forget something like this, would he?

His eyes are wide and lost, and it's getting harder and harder to pretend he can't just turn a little more and see the Boss's face right there.]

I... I'm sorry, Boss. I don't...

[What is he supposed to say? The Boss can be wrong sometimes, yes. But to be wrong about something of this magnitude?]

... I-I'm not sure what day that was. But I don't... That couldn't have been me. That wasn't me, Boss. I-I'd never--

[The more he thinks about it, the more he feels as if ice is compressing his ribcage. The mere thought that he could have done this, that he could have... tore him "into pieces" - that he harmed him so severely that he made that post...

Amidst his mounting panic, Doppio winces. For a moment, he gets the impression someone just jabbed an icepick through his skull.]

Yeah
Thanks for helping him.

[Okay. Still contending. Still... doing that.

... It's just so strange. The only thing helping him resist the urge to say "NOW DON'T LOOK AT HIM EVER AGAIN" is knowing that it'd sound incredibly dodgy, to say the least.

...]

Was he hurt?

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this would have been... august 23rd-ish

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local man has no idea whats going on

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*men

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PURPLEPIPER. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 541.26.365.77 * PURPLEPIPER has joined 541.26.365.77 <PURPLEPIPER> Am I doing this right? <PURPLEPIPER> Pretty weird to just leave a message like this is an answering machine or something <PURPLEPIPER> ME leaving a message I mean! <PURPLEPIPER>** You can leave one if you want and I'll just get back to you whenever I can.