[Doppio is prone to glossing over his own lapses in memory and perhaps that's Diavolo's own fault. But that "issue" was a thing of the past, when every lapse had a purpose. If Doppio is blacking out still - and, worse, if it's with something approaching regularity...
Diavolo tries to keep his expression and tone perfectly still while an icy feeling rises within him. He'd conditioned Doppio to think this was normal. This is not normal, not anymore, this is a sign of something very wrong and he wants to poke and prod until he finds out exactly what, but this is dangerous ground to tread. One misstep, one out-of-place question or display of concern too high for a perceived routine problem, and soon all the years of history between the two of them will begin to unravel. He can't allow that to happen.]
In the weeks we spent together here, you hadn't had any incidents like those of the past. I had... hoped, perhaps, that they'd stopped for good. A mortal problem, purged somewhere between death and this... rebirth, as a monster. But, no. I see.
[When, he wonders, did his perception shift? When did it start mattering what he says and does? At some point he'd stopped wryly thinking of the person standing before him as "zombie deer Doppio", strange and unnatural. He's just "Doppio" to him now, and just like when they were alive, he weaves the same web of lies as though there's something real left to protect with them. Hasn't he has already lost everything? There is no secrecy left to uphold. No amount of lying could ever soothe Doppio and maintain the relationship built up between them if he is only a memory, alone and dead, burning bright in Diavolo's mind.
Why has he started to feel like the Doppio in his memories and the Doppio in this world are one and the same?
He exhales heavily and drops his head down further, palm against his forehead, fingers digging at his hair.]
no subject
Diavolo tries to keep his expression and tone perfectly still while an icy feeling rises within him. He'd conditioned Doppio to think this was normal. This is not normal, not anymore, this is a sign of something very wrong and he wants to poke and prod until he finds out exactly what, but this is dangerous ground to tread. One misstep, one out-of-place question or display of concern too high for a perceived routine problem, and soon all the years of history between the two of them will begin to unravel. He can't allow that to happen.]
In the weeks we spent together here, you hadn't had any incidents like those of the past. I had... hoped, perhaps, that they'd stopped for good. A mortal problem, purged somewhere between death and this... rebirth, as a monster. But, no. I see.
[When, he wonders, did his perception shift? When did it start mattering what he says and does? At some point he'd stopped wryly thinking of the person standing before him as "zombie deer Doppio", strange and unnatural. He's just "Doppio" to him now, and just like when they were alive, he weaves the same web of lies as though there's something real left to protect with them. Hasn't he has already lost everything? There is no secrecy left to uphold. No amount of lying could ever soothe Doppio and maintain the relationship built up between them if he is only a memory, alone and dead, burning bright in Diavolo's mind.
Why has he started to feel like the Doppio in his memories and the Doppio in this world are one and the same?
He exhales heavily and drops his head down further, palm against his forehead, fingers digging at his hair.]
...It must have been hard to bear alone.