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no subject
So... When are you going?
[Correction: a question that's much easier to ask thoughtlessly, because when he doubles back on his own words -]
Uh, not that I'm trying to rush you! Or... trying to... get you to stay? I mean, one way or the other, I'm just... It's just a question! I'm just asking... Just asking how long...
[- the worse he makes it.
It was easier when she was just a hermit crab, rather than an egg from a nest left behind.]
YOU ABANDONED YOUR BABY BIRD, DOOPY!!!
Doppio trips all over himself to clarify, but she feels the the first question, the one predicated on his gut and not his bumpy train of thought, that one's the real and true question.
He doesn't want her here either. It's fine. It would be weirder if he did want her to stay. That would be antithetical to everything her father is. Before all this, too, they didn't exactly part on good terms, which makes a terrible amount of sense. There were no good terms from the outset.
She doesn't lift her head, but her tail flops back and forth listlessly behind her. Thinking, thinking...]
Once I've got myself figured out, I'll go. Assuming your other half doesn't change his mind and toss me out first.
I'm hesitant to make hard number estimates for either scenario.
[Sardonically, she adds:]
I'm sure you understand.
what baby (< clueless)
[It isn't the nicest thing to say, he realises. Fathers, in theory, are supposed to have reasons other than fear to protect their own flesh and blood. The only way this could be comforting to her is if she's ceased to think of the Boss as her family, but... she must have by now, right? She said it herself - she's here out of desperation, nothing more.
If that's the case, though, why was she so insistent on making Doppio admit to something he has no memory of? They're different people, obviously. Does she understand they're different people? She must, if she's intent on calling Doppio family while the Boss isn't. But then--
It's been grating on him, even though he tried to gloss over it. He can't help himself. He mutters:]
Don't call him that.
DFLKSDFKDSF
She's not disappointed by the accuracy of his statement, at least. Doppio worries about saying "nice" things, but they've long ruined any chance for niceties. There can only be tolerance, and that is something she can understand and even be content with if that's all they're willing to give.
These two who make up the man who was her father, who rejected her the moment a family tie made itself known. Biology ties them both to her, even if Doppio wasn't really there in a capacity where he could claim to remember it. Although she knows he must've been present for some part of that summer, because he used the common shorthand for her mother's name...
Indeed, she's silent while she listens to him remind her that her father is terrified of Giorno's wrath, and then he summons her own. Although she realizes very quickly she shouldn't snap at Doppio in earshot of Diavolo, and bites down hard on her lip until the feeling goes mute. Her tail is the only thing that gives her agitation away with the way it swishes back and forth in tighter, quicker strokes.
Her tone is clipped when she speaks then, but otherwise has no real bite to it. Rather, the greater undercurrent is resignation.]
Right, I forgot. You're still perfectly happy to pretend otherwise.
[A thought occurs to her, in that instant. Doppio didn't remember that time he'd met her as a little boy. His ability to forget is unparalleled in a world where most anyone else is scrambling to hold onto every fragment of themselves, memory or no.]
[Hmph.
She lifts her head to look at him finally, chin plopping to rest on a fluffy wrist.]
Do you even remember when we last met?
no subject
What?
[That's what he's been wondering, because the last time they met...]
... It was... that weird fog. Do you remember?
[He may have been wondering, but he's not so sure he even wanted to ask. The reason behind Trish's presence here is a convenient excuse, but all things considered, he could have asked her any time before now. An excuse is all that it is.]
no subject
All she knew to do was to trust Max. That, and to settle into what was apparently her room, where she plucked away on her guitar, playing the only riff she'd held onto where everything else had left. It was grounding in a surreal situation where her world had become so, so small.
But it all came back. She remembers Doppio trying to reach out to her and failing. She'd had enough memories left to distrust him, especially when he called her name. Which is funny, because she had more reasons than she could remember to distrust him.
And...she remembers him calling out to Donatella. She doesn't recall what his face looked like – she wasn't looking his way, if she remembers right – but the shape of her name sounded so strange on Doppio's lips. He apologized too, another curious thing. However, she has no illusions there was any modicum of care in his actions. He talks about his boss fearing consequences, and doubtlessly it's the same for him. If he didn't try, it would be held against him.]
[By who? She asks herself this. There was no one else to witness him whether he tried to help her or not.]
[She sets the thought aside.]
[Anyways, her answer is easy even if her emotions are something else entirely. Gently, she says:]
Yes, I do. Was I supposed to forget, Doppio?
[For your convenience, she wants to add as a snap at his heels. But with Diavolo nearby, she doesn't.]
no subject
["So far gone," he wants to say. "It was scary," he wants to say. He has the impression she could take those words and stab him with them, though he can't put his finger on why.]
... What happened after I lost track of you?
[Doppio genuinely wants to know, even if it hadn't occurred to him to ask until now. How does someone go from not even remembering when and where they are, to... just... normal again, able to recall the past and understand the present and to let them coexist? He isn't surprised the Boss could do it; Doppio is sure he's relived his deaths many, many times outside of the Pale Fog, and he only needed a little help to find his footing again. But Trish... Did someone else come for her? Did she do it all by herself? How?
As for Doppio himself, he didn't have to forget this time. He simply refused to remember. He ran from the fire, he left the pickax behind, he walked past the sunny streets of Sardinia without fail, and when he found someone willing to help him and the Boss and then saw the kind eyes of a long dead man smiling at him behind her, he ran again. All he had to do was run until he could find the Boss and run away with him. It was straightforward.... Come to think of it, though, there's something he can't quite seem to remember. Not clearly.
Why did he run towards Trish?]
no subject
But he doesn't do any of that, and she's only left to wonder why he pushes back so quickly at her assertion. It would be easier for him, wouldn't it? If she were like him, he wouldn't have to worry about any past actions coming back to haunt him. She's the past embodied for him and Diavolo both, so it's only natural they chafe against one another, and rendering her toothless by depriving her of memories...it'd be more palatable to them.
Of course, memories don't tell her why he'd want to know, and she stares at him for a long, searching moment, deciding whether or not he's entitled to know where her empty heart took her.
Maybe she can use her answer as a bartering chip, actually.]
...Someone I know found me and brought me home before I was completely gone. By the end, all I remembered was my own name. Fortunately, it was temporary, as I'm not sure what kind of person I'd become without my memories.
[A very, very pointed comment, that one.
Her next words are softer, but no less pointed, especially with the weight of the intent behind them.]
Can I ask you something in return, Doppio?
no subject
[He says it without thinking. Not about what he means, not about Trish's pointed remark. It's what Trish says next that gives Doppio pause, makes his nervous eyes dart between between her face and a series of nondescript spots several inches removed from her.
He wants to tell her "no." There isn't a single question she could ask him at this point that he can answer without making him wish he could curl up and disappear into himself, or without forcing him to tear into his own ribcage and rummage for what she wants to hear. Despite that, the sound that leaves his mouth is a faint, noncommittal...]
Yeah?
icon matchies
Diavolo isn't far.
But even he doesn't seem to think anything of letting her and Doppio coexist, as long as she doesn't mention Cervo aloud. Which...this isn't about Cervo at all, so it ought to be permissible, right?
Still, she leans forward, her mouth working around the words, and says in a voice that is so soft it makes her sound so unlike herself. No moxie, no bite, only an open heart.]
Why...did you call out to her if she's a stranger to you?
[Trish doesn't clarify who she means. He ought to know. Sure, he knows that name for many reasons, but she can't forget how he called Donatella's name – in a way that was shortened, familiar.
It was a stark contrast to all the people who never stayed in her memories long enough to use either her name or her mother's.]
looks at the typos in my last tag, closes my eyes
On the third, mutant hand, he knew who Trish meant, somehow, and that feeds right into the sinking sensation.
But then he loops back into the excuse-that-feels-true, so he goes for it.]
Y... You weren't paying attention to me, so I had to get her attention instead.
[That had, in fact, been the rationale; he's sure of it. What he isn't taking into account - what he doesn't even remember right now - is the exact name that came out of his mouth, unthinkingly.]
Since... I thought, since she was your memory, that might help. Just... get through to you, somehow. I-I dunno.
shoosh paps you
Trish remembers it well, if only because she wasn't looking at Doppio. The way he called out when Donatella suddenly collapsed, and the way he referred to her...were things that didn't involve Trish in any way other than it was her living memory Doppio was caught in.
There was no one else to shout her name in concern the day that happened besides Trish herself, she remembers. Even if the memory muddled it into a space between the past and present, forcing Donatella to drop to her knees in the train station of a distant memory when they were at home when that particular event happened...no, Doppio called out to Donatella then not as a tool, but because he's an inextricable part of Diavolo and recognized her, whether he'd like to or not.
She could fight him on it harder than she actually does, but with Diavolo mere meters away, Trish can only offer Doppio an expression that is decidedly sour where it was smooth and impassive before.]
...Hmph. That's not how I remember it.
[He can't...even bother to pretend he was at least a little concerned about a woman he barely knew collapsing? Which is as hysterical as it is sad, because any reasonable person would be concerned to see a total stranger collapse. As always, there has to be a means to an end, otherwise the implication that he has the capacity to give a damn would rear its head, and we can't have that, can we?]
I suppose a more pertinent question would have been to ask why you bothered trying to "get through to me" to begin with, but I'm sure that had nothing to do with me either.
[Punctuated with a withering stare.
Doppio doesn't care about her, so it only stands to reason he only helped her because of some other imaginary rationale he made up. The specter of Giorno Giovanna coming to haunt him or something like that.]
OUGH
But then again, he's at a natural disadvantage when it comes to memory, isn't he?No matter the case, the hopelessly fumbling expression on Doppio's face doesn't abate even when Trish tries to move on.]
Why I... Huh?
[Isn't it obvious...?]
I... I couldn't just leave you like that. All... lost and confused.