IC INBOX | RYSLIG
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, JOJO. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 336.66.256.63 *** JOJO has joined 336.66.256.63 <JOJO...?> Technically this message doesn't exist. Jonathan doesn't actually have a laptop. I just needed an Inbox. | ||||
action, jan 30 | cw broken bones, murder, panic + trauma response
He's not far, in fairness. Maybe three, four blocks away.
When he'd left that evening, he knew something was wrong. He took care to eat extra this week, still recovering from the injuries— it's been easier, to maintain certain needs when Fugo is so meticulous about feeding — and yet, something is still off. It's like an itch that crawls up his spine.
A commotion outside a corner store draws his attention, and when he reaches the scene it's to see two men, one of them palming off something to the other, this one in a clean, neatly pressed uniform. Something flashes in him, something irate that lingers just under the surface most days and reaches its boiling point. He diverts his route, following after the police officer, and it's like something switches on, and he's engaged, activated. He's no longer pursuing a dirty cop, he's hunting prey, and he kicks off the ground to swoop at the officer, adrenaline flooding into his system as an instinctual, hungering desire overtaking every conscious thought.
Claws sink deep into the man's shoulder blades, bone gives in under his pressure — he lets out the start of a scream, silenced in an instant by a sharp snap, head left turned at an unnatural angle. Just as fast as he'd lunged, he takes off again to the air, pupils nothing more than narrow slits as he searches across the city's skyline for somewhere to take his prize.
The scent of blood reaches him, and it's overwhelming, intoxicating in how sweet it smells. But it quickly turns saccharine, roils his stomach to the point it becomes nauseating as the adrenaline begins to fade. It's happening again — it's happening again, and he doesn't know why, because he's been careful — he's been so careful to make sure that something like this doesn't happen, that he doesn't lose his sense of self, that he doesn't lose control.
When the high wears off, he's left with shaking hands, coated in cooling blood, and the dawning horror of realisation at the sight of the officer with dark brown hair and a broken neck, his face contorted and frozen in fear, blood pooling beneath him and staining his crisp white dress shirt a deep red. It's an image that is so hauntingly familiar, one that's etched into his very bones, one that he sees when he closes his eyes. It knocks all the air from his lungs.
Abbacchio doesn't move, hasn't realised that in his pursuit, it led him closer to the kitschy café he and Jonathan had chosen this time, he's only a street away, tucked into a dingy alley. He's not easy to overlook, imposing as his figure is, but the way he's on the floor and backed himself up against the wall, knees tight against his chest, his wings curled around him; he blends in with the surroundings. The only indication there's anyone in the alley are low broken breaths and the occasional quiet, choked sob. ]
VIBRATES AT THE SPEED OF AAAAAAAAAAAAA
The message is sent, but even so there is no answer. Jonathan rather has a choice- does he message the others? Giorno, and so on? Does he keep waiting? It's already been at least twenty minutes, hasn't it?
His ears twitch. He swears he hears something some distance away, but dare he leave the table when Abbacchio could well arrive? The man bites gently on his tongue, pondering the matter. Perhaps...perhaps not...
Perhaps...
Well. Finally deciding he ought do something when nothing has intervened with the sound, he asks a server to simply be on the lookout for a violet gargoyle and to hold the table. He does hope, of course, that it is not his intimidating appearance that causes them to agree.
Even so-
Jonathan follows after the sound, ears twitching.]
Hello? Whoever is there, are you quite alright..?
[He's not quite entered the alley yet. Not yet. But something enters his nose, something nearly metallic, something-]
Oh-
...God, is that blood...?
Are you alright down there..!?
forgive meeee
So imagine his shock when it's Jonathan who rounds the corner, stands at the entrance of the alley and calls out towards him — he doesn't realise it's Abbacchio, it seems — and Abbacchio doesn't know whether to laugh or scream at the fact. Instead, he makes a choked gargle of a sound, sob caught in his throat as he tries, and fails, to pull himself together. He wipes at his cheeks, but all he really accomplishes is smearing blood across his scales. Painfully scratchy, his voice comes out as a barely audible whisper, a quiet damaged thing. ]
… Jonathan.
[ Wings shift, fold tighter around himself in a protective manner. He can't bare the thought of Jonathan seeing him like this, is already imagining how disappointed he'd be, disgusted. Abbacchio wouldn't blame him, would make no attempts to try and stop him if he turned his back on him and left him here. In fact, he should leave. This is Abbacchio's burden to bear. ]
You… should go.
wuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
Abbacchio? [he questions, and soon enough his eyes have adjusted to the scene.
Instead of disappointment however there is only concern, and he rushes to the other's side.] Abbacchio, what happened- why are you down here..?!
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Don't! [ Eyes flash green, his lip curls. ] Just don't.
[ Despite the long-since faded adrenalin, there's a part of his brain that is still active, still treating this like a hunt. Territorial urges slowly claw their way into his mind, to stand his ground and chase off any interlopers, but it's not anger on his features, it's fear. Fear that he could lose himself again. When the flickering flame in his eyes fades, he almost looks like he's pleading with Jonathan. ]
whispers to the wind 'i swear he's not being stupid,'
[Jonathan hesitates, certainly- but his drive to support those he cares for is too strong to simply stop and turn away. Ears pinned back, he reaches gently toward Abbacchio anyway, his eyes full of nothing but concern.]
...Abbacchio. ...What happened, here? What drives you to such panic?
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[ Except, he does. he remembers following the man, remembers every instinct that pushed him forward. He just doesn't understand why. It shouldn't have happened, he's been so careful, he isn't even hungry. If he can't trust himself, can't trust his own ability to keep himself in check, to control impulses, then he's a danger. Slowly, cautiously, his wing folds in towards himself, revealing the body behind him. ]
This wasn't supposed to happen.
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[Jonathan has to squint at that to start, mostly because he's not sure how that can exactly be possible. Except, yes it is possible isn't it- it's the exact thing he went to Mana to avoid, it's the exact thing that so many others warn monsters about-
Jonathan swallows at the sight of the body, but rather than judge, berate, or anything of the sort-]
Do you need help moving this, Abbacchio?
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… I'm sorry.
[ For being like this, for ruining their plans, for thinking the worst of Jonathan and snapping the way he did because of his own fear. That all goes unspoken, even if it's visible in Abbacchio's downcast eyes, the way he can't meet Jonathan's own. ]
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[And even his smile is honest. It's encouraging, and reassuring. He means every word he says.]
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You don't need to— [ his words trail off. Of course Jonathan doesn't need to, but he's not doing this because he needs to, is he? Instead, Abbacchio relents. ] … Thank you.
[ It's difficult, to put his trust in others, but Jonathan is one of the few who has more than earned it. ]
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[His wife is, after all, a werewolf. Mongoose. Weremongoose.]
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Is it… You're sure it's okay?
[ It's probably supposed to be a comfort, but it kind of makes him feel a little bad, that Jonathan has done this before. It comes with the territory, though, and he should know that by now, should be used to what has been reality for the past year. Though Jonathan doesn't mention her, Erina still crosses Abbacchio's mind. ]
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[And so, they will walk. The apartment isn't far after all, even if they must approach from an odd angle- specifically, once they're in range of the building, he moves ahead to carefully search along the wall for a metal pole.]
It might be a rather loud noise, but do bear with- I'm going to pull the ladder for the building's fire escape down, that we might make our way to the upper floor entrance.
[As he says so, he hooks the pole into the ladder's edge- and with a resounding clang and clatter, down it falls!]
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He barely realises they've reached the apartment building until Jonathan stops, and he doesn't quite hear what it is he said.
The loud shrieking noise of the metal ladder as it's pulled free makes his spine itch, has his ears flicking back and down as it clatters to the ground noisily. Once again, he's looking around to see if they've drawn attention. There's an awkward pause, during which he's unsure if Jonathan intends to ascend the ladder first, or if he's waiting for Abbacchio, but eventually he forces himself to move. ]
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… I'm sorry, for making you do this.
[ Before Jonathan has the chance to insist an apology is not needed, that Abbacchio isn't making him do anything, he begins climbing, turning his back on the corpse as much as he is inadvertently doing the same to Jonathan. ]
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Did I give the impression that I was being forced? [He asks softly, eyes nothing but kind if one were to look back and see.] I wanted to help- for indeed, I know for a fact that if our positions were somehow changed, you would have helped me.