![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. | ||||
no subject
"Speedwagon...both of you," he adds, shaking his head. "I promise to you both, it was nothing so vital a concern. I simply took some time to think, given the day it should have been. It has clearly been far too long a time, if you had time to travel here however," he admits as he looks to Dio. "Truthfully, I had only thought it a few minutes. I can only be thankful that this isn't as long as when I was distracted by my achaeological studies," Jonathan continues, looking relatively shamed to admit the matter as a whole. "I cannot even number the amount of candles which burned to their last..."
Right, anyway. Speedwagon first. He steps toward his friend, expression as apologetic as ever when it comes to wrongs and perceived wrongs alike. "While I may not have seen much harm hiwever, it is clear that was far from the case. That my quiet would drive you to such worry that you seek advice in secret is something only I can take the blame for- and for that, I apologize deeply Speedwagon. To worry you, particularly after these past weeks, is the last thing I ever wish to do to you!"
But ah, "But, you are of course far from the only one here," Jonathan notes as he looks back to Dio again. "And...I do confess I am curious in regards to your insistence. Did you have something in mind Dio, that you came in person for all of this? You say 'celebrate', but this seems far from a matter deserving of it while Erina herself is in another world. While indeed it is insult to the date to sit and reminisce the hours away, I cannot see good in turning to a further extreme."
no subject
He's narrowing his eyes at him, not that it's obvious while he's as hidden as he is. But he's fairly sure that's a bonus he has over the boy, simply the fact that he has an advantage of knowing what he will do versus what Dio could possibly do. Trust most of no one, it's served him well enough thus far.]
Admittedly, it was the time that bothered me as much as it had. If I had known this a habit, I would not have jumped as much at the situation as I had... [In hindsight it makes sense, that Jonathan could get fixated on one thing and lose track of time, but it wasn't something he'd necessarily expected of him. But this isn't what his attention is truly focused on.
Not for the moment.]
I would venture to say there would be some sort of ulterior motive there, but that is merely an outsider's observation on the matter. [While Jonathan may not read into it, he's almost certain Dio will. And it's a very clear, very obvious warning and threat in one.]
no subject
[Don't worry, he's just assuring he's still the same old Dio in the most obnoxious way possible. Can't go letting them think he's had a change of heart for no reason!
He huffs.] Perhaps 'celebrate' was a poor choice of words. I just think it's rather a disservice not to honour the significance of the date at all. There is still warmth associated with your marriage, is there not? Or has it been completely drowned in misery?
You have lived on since that day, have you not? Have you not been given new life to walk and continue your legacy in whatever capacity you can? W- mm, must I always say something insensitive to get you to pay attention? - would Erina want you to spend the anniversary of your union wallowing in your own gloom? Do something to honour the love you shared! Even something small, if only in the spirit of the day!
no subject
Ah, but now it is a matter of Dio's motivations again. Jonathan can't help but be curious after all- while assuredly as bitter and spiteful in some regards as remembered, there is a difference there that cannot quite be described.
It of course goes out the window as the matter of 'outsiders' (really Dio...) comes up, but-
Jonathan's quiet exhasperation pales the minute Dio's quieter muttering catches his ears. To say the least of what came just before it.
He is stunned, just momentarily. It's an anniversary, a wedding anniversary, and he would dare to say-
Dare to imply?
Were Dio older, and more familiar in the sense of being the one he had known and fought, perhaps those thoughts would have been voiced. No, they absolutely would have been. He speaks of celebrating what they had, should have had, and then adds the notion of throwing it aside? As if to be alive for such steep cost is a gift as well? He would have had words, and without a doubt the response would have been either a smirk or an exhasperated sigh.
But instead of speaking, instead of even beginning to allow the anger to build under the implications of the words, Jonathan is simply struck by what Dio muttered under his breath.
'Why must I always say something insensitive to get your attention?'
"....Dio," he finally begins- no doubt after Speedwagon has already said his share, filling the air with more ire. "...I do not believe even you realize the gravity of what you said, just now."
It is a painfully accurate look at how his 'brother' has acted most of their lives.
And it is coming from someone who, chronologically speaking, had known him less than a year.
no subject
He could act, he could, but there is just something holding him back from doing so. At least for another moment or two, to see if this is really worth it or not.
"You come here and speak as if you have any idea of how such an emotion could feel. Speak as if you have any idea of how a loss like that could feel to someone? No, I see my assumptions then were the same as they should remain now. I have given the benefit of the doubt time and time again and yet here you are, speaking as if you understand some sort of emotion that I sincerely, truly doubt you could ever comprehend." Maybe stop him, Jonathan, this is going to be anything but pretty.
"Even now it seems the form this place has given you matches your personality as well. Cold and inhuman. I will admit you are an intelligent sort, which is why it baffles me how you speak in such a matter without using your brain for a fraction of a second. Even if Jonathan will not, I would reduce you to nothing in a heartbeat if given have a reason to do so."
He isn't moving from his spot yet, at the very least, but it's very clear that he's ready to move at a second's notice.
no subject
And yet he can't bring himself to raise his head to meet their eyes again.
"...I hate that I have to look at your stupid face," he mutters, his fingers gripping the side of the couch, "with a frown that reaches the floor on what should be one of the happiest days of your l̢̰̤͉̝͚i̸̮̖̜͈f̗͚̻̕e̛̯̠͓̖. I hate that the͕ ̰̼͓̞̜̞h̘̖̟͉ap̭͚͖̙͇̳ͅp̛͈͕̳̠͍i͎̳͓̫ͅe̻̺̮̘͓͔̮s̡̘̫̫̪̩t͔̲̻ ̲̬͍d̸͉͕̱̣̼a͓̱̳̝y̨̹͙͉̮̩̹̯ ̥͉͈̱̦of̡̝̯̭ ̼̲̺͕ỵ͇͔̺o̷̲̥͖̖ur life has to be muddled with͖̰̞͕̬̼ ͍̥̪͎̼̪o̳̞͚n͚̯̭̳͈͉e̗͖͈͔͍͇ ̭̲̦̥ọ̫̟̀f̛̙̲͍ t̹̩h͓̩͎̕e̺ ̪̲̠w͘o͙̘r͚̭̪̞̮̟͙st, and I ha̳t̡̺̣̼̯̜ḙ̺̬͚̜ ̷̥͙̹̣th̯̝̳͚̮̭͞a̱t͈͖͔͇̥̻ ̙͢i҉͖̹̯ṭ̯̥̲̖ ̰̱͞ͅh̰͍̖͚̠a̞͔̝͡s͍̼̬̻ ҉̺̜͔̫̣t̵̠͎̟̪͓o͖̞͇̱̖̱ ̸̤̱͖̯̝b҉e͔̘͔͕̥̯ ̗t͙͠h͞ͅạ̺̬̭̰̪̪̀t̰̞̪ ͈̩͕͎̱ͅwa̗y̶̝̦͔ͅ ̴͖̺̗̼̮f͍͓̲̥o̰̝͈̜̲̩r ̶̷̼̣͙̩̞̮̠̺ͅh͕͕͖̺e͢҉̘ŗ҉͕͓̻ t̡̯̞̰o̢͡͏̫͍͉̱ͅó̱̪̠̭͈̙̬͞ ̡̪̺̭͈͙͔̦̖̀̕a̢̧̤͍̬͚̱͠n̡͜͏̜͕̯͚d̹͖͢ ҉͚̱̠͖f̖̝͚̻͟͜͝ǫ̶̠͢r̷̨̝͔ ̹͢ę̢̩̙̰͍̙͕̹̳́v̨̢͍̙͎͞ͅe̷̡̮͕͖̞͟r̢͎̰͎͉̺͎̞̻͞͝y̲̖̰̞̹̳̙͟ơ͇͍̦̰̟͙̭͈ne else! I hatę̷̢͚̯͍͔̖ ̵̡̪̝͈̱̯̀t̘͈̖͇̫͈̙h̛҉͈̘͎̪͓̯ͅa̼͙̪͚̠̜t͓̩́ ͚̬ỵ̘̬̕o͚̤̬̱͘u̯͇̮̕ ͏̟̟͘c̤̮̟̤̘̘̙a̸̲̩͔ń̹͍̰̲̪͇̬ͅ'͚̥̼̞͢t̟̜͓̤ ̬͈̩͚͕̬́a̧̻̺͓̯͉̯̫͘͞ͅͅp̷͖̮̲͢p̨̤̮̰̗̭͝ŕ̹͈͉̭͔͖͔͎͘e̶͍̘̤͎͘c̳̯̼͖͢i̧̺̗̪̝͉͕a̱͙̮̜̤̖t̠̻̯̫̩̞ͅȩ̢̥̻͕́ ̵̢̬i͈̣̱̥͘͜t̻̣͇̼!̸̴̡̗͎̞ ͉̼I͜҉͚̬̺̝̻͓ͅͅ ̹͚͠h̜̠̤͙̪á҉҉̬̘̻̰t̖͈̻̪̯̣̜̬͓͟e̘͎̹̹͟͝ ̡̜̮͚t͚̠̞̼͞ḩ̣̪̘͉a͘҉̖t̶̛̥̝̪̝̘̩̯̀ ̫͕͕̮̪̦͔̖͜y̧͓͓̰̟̥͖̺̱ò̵͇̳u̶͍̗̦̘̠̤͕͡ͅ ̖̘̞̬̱͔̖n̡͕͜e̝̺̮̠ͅv͖̣̗̪͘e͏̳̗̪̺̻̱̣r̨̡̠͕͈̞̖̫͔͜ ̬̯͍͔͟f̧̨͎̱̭̗̣̣̮͇̞͜u̖̺͔̪̲c̛͟҉̝͕͕͇̫ḱ̛̦̝̫͍̼̻̯ͅi̥͉͉͔͍͟ͅn̵҉̵͎̗̱̬̟̠̟̼̺g͈̬͇̘͓̳̱̞̕͢ ̶̭̯̤͖̼w̛̝̻̭̼̲͍͇̳͕̠͎͠ͅi̷҉̺̻͉͟͞l̶̸͟͟͏̙̦̤̜͍̞̪̝͉̬̮̼̞͙͚l̵̢̨͈̖̹̲̱̖̲̭̟̞ͅ!̡̱̬͚̘̗͎̼͓̱̝̙̯͕͎̩̣̝͝"
But not for lack of trying, nor for lack of assumed ability. For a moment he'd had the audacity to be happy for Jonathan's marriage-
"I̦͉͎̼̤͇̖̞̣̲͕̺̟̘̭͚͘̕ ̢̧̞̰͇͝ͅh̵̺̲̟̺̀a̧̯͎̟͓͓̯̙̦t̶̨̢̹͈͓̮̗̼̭̖̙̩͚̝̤̮͉͖̲̘̀e̸̸̢̯͎̳͚̻̟͉̣͇̻̹̱̪̖̭͜͜ ̸͖̠̩͎̗̬͍͙̝̟͈̜̖̞̩̣͖̣͇́͘t̻̩̱͚̭̬̻̀͞͞ͅh̦̗͎̩̀͞a̡̰̫̖̼̗͘t̨͚̫̦̩̠̹̟̣͡ ͇̬͍͙̦͇̹́̕į̵̫̙̼̫͓͙̫̠̮̹̬͟t҉̶̱͙͓͕͇͍̰̲͎͕̝͉͙ͅ'̴̞̱͎͖̲̣̩̻̫͈͕̬͟ͅs͏̤̰̱͜ͅ-̕͞͏̵̧̬̞̞͔̙̫͚̭̠̫-̱̻̼͖̫̫͙̲̘̲̣͎̮͎͕͢͟͜ͅ"
-and so baffled that it would go without even a small gesture of remembrance-
"T̷̨̛͓͇̞͎͉̀h̢͙̞̰̼̗̼̹̙̘͍̮͕̞͍̘͢a̡̡̨̦̝̥͖̳͟t̴̸̴͚̹̪̤̻̩̬͇̱̞̗̗̗̞̪͍͇͘ ҉̹̺͍̤̠̯̥͉̱̼i̵̗͚̰̣̯͇͉͖̼̱̖͎͠͞t̴̷̥̩̜̲̩̦̟͔̼̖͚̝̟̬̬̪̘͜'̲͚̙͢͡͞s̴̡̢̨̺͇̯̦̭ ̛̫̗̝̬̲̥͙͙̟̻͝͡ḁ̶̡̭̗̠͔͈̣̮͈͇͕̭̫̮͉̯͈͡ͅl̷̵̟̘̘̥̤͉̥̮̥̠̼̘̟̪̪̪͠l̛҉̴͈͎̞̦̝͓̯̜̺͖͔͎̩̫̠̙͝͝ͅ.̢̧̢̳̦̙̥̻̝͚͔͕͚̬̟͉̘̱̖͜.̵̨̨̪̪̮̣̰̯͡.̧͏͏̭͚̘̻̫̭͓̥͓̮͖̯̜͍̦̣͉̫͘͡ͅ"
-that he'd forgotten the reason it was all cut so short was because...
".͟͞҉̗̤̙̯.̗̼̲̜̣͓̬̯̞̣̰̭͡.̶͇͚̦̯̰̞̰̼͝
".̧̢̛́.̴̢͘͟͡.̵̛͡͡i͠ ͏̸́h̕҉́a̢҉̴t̵̕͟e͢͜͝͞ ̸͢͞t̡҉̨̧͘h̵̛͘á̸t̨̀͞ ̶̨͏̵ỳ̧͘͝ó̧̡ư̷̶̶r̡͠ę̀ ̴̀r͝͡͞i̷̸͠͞ǵ͜h́͘͝t̷̵.̶̀"
He'll go now. The point of his visit had escaped him anyway. They can yell at him later on the network or fight him in the street if they need that extra catharsis; he's not helping anyone by staying here.
He certainly didn't help anyone before.
no subject
He didn't of course, instead he added the only thing he could voice, but there is the nagging feeling that he should have.
Particularly when he realizes that Dio isn't looking at them anymore, when he speaks. When he finishes speaking, and leaves the Simulacrum to respond instead. Respond to break the damning silence that was brought upon them not by the words of the demon but instead the pooka, he finds himself thinking quietly.
The more Dio speaks, the more he can't help but think that instinct to stop Speedwagon wasn't just right.
It was probably vital.
"MRREEEEEEEWWWW-" Queen hisses and screeches and darts for the safety of Speedwagon's burrow, and that's the only warning there is as the words meet the air.
The more Dio speaks the more the simulacrum's voice breaks. Like screaming into a telephone, like the audio files he's occasionally heard from Speedwagon's laptop device, the boy's voice grows farther and farther from something resembling human to some horrid, miserable fascimile of it. It feels as if it stems from rage to start- but something is missing, Jonathan realizes quite coldly. It's something he's more than used to, more than familiar with in his memory and it's missing, and he can't quite put a finger to what has replaced it.
His words are nothing but smears of static, but somehow he can make them out and ultimately they freeze him to the spot.
"Dio-"
The boy is gone before his name even leaves Jonathan's lips.
They are left there, staring at the empty staircase, bits of melted snow still on the floor from where they slicked off from the boy's excessive protection from the liquid death that he'd trudged through. Jonathan can't turn his eyes away from it in the end.
Instead....
Somehow it hurts.
"...Do you remember, Speedwagon, that night when we first cornered Dio together? That night at the manor, before he placed the mask upon his face?" Jonathan doesn't wait for his friend to answer. Instead he goes on, his voice sad, but clear, ringing through the emptiness of the apartment. "...That night when we faced him, you warned me of his facade- announcing that you could even tell from a sniff, the bad from the good. I can remember back then, wishing that I had been able to tell such a thing myself- wondering perhaps, what could have changed otherwise.
"But..." But now. "...But something you said as well...after you declared his villainy before us all, you asked what I had undoubtedly been thinking myself. 'Is he a victim of circumstance?' And without pause you had continued- 'Not on your life; he's been evil since he drew his first breath'."
Silence.
Yet still it is on Jonathan to break it. "...I cannot help but wonder... ...Thinking upon the one I knew in my youth, and the small differences that exist between him and the boy who just left our home now..." The demon swallows, and only now turns back. "...I can't help but think that you might be wrong this time, Speedwagon."