erbier: (Default)
( Ilde ) ([personal profile] erbier) wrote in [community profile] station722016-10-09 06:08 pm

[closed] we'll go tearing up the back streets

CHARACTERS: Ilde, Angel, Gio
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: D37-ish
SUMMARY: A teenage gangster teaches his older sisters how to do their lipstick right.
WARNINGS: Terrible fashion choices.



[ He's already taken her out shopping. After the vigil she had agreed to go with him out of the simple fact that she did not wish to return to the Bearings after Ren's rebuke. It wasn't terrible, she was somewhat familiar with the game of it all, having been taken on similar outings by the Subspace punks she humored with her attention. They too liked to point at ridiculous things and suggest she buy them. They were easier to deny. They had some reverence for her mystique of demureness, her quiet shyness. Gio, although younger, although newer, knows her better than that just by dint of the symbiote. Can feel her balk not out of self-identity but of nerves and uncertainty. So he pushes. Tells her there are more colors and patterns and has her try things on for hours until she convinces him they should stop for the day...

She might have been avoiding him ever since.

It's funny, all the horror she's seen in her life and this is what truly unsettles her: self-expression, beauty outside the tiny box that she has known. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin.

She tells these things to Angel. That she feels overwhelmed by it all, and of course, the suggestion occurs that why don't they explore it together? Angel is already easier with the whole act of it, her closet is full of very different things than Ilde's...

That is how they end up in Ilde's sparse bedroom, piles of clothes scattered everywhere, unopened makeup spread out on her bed.

Ilde eyes it all warily and reminds herself that nothing here can kill her. ]
tropism: (pic#9530726)

[personal profile] tropism 2016-10-10 10:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ giorno had bought a number of things from one of his shopping runs. he did his research beforehand, mostly checking to see what kinds of clothing saffron wears whenever she's on stage, and the truth was that he's mostly disappointed with what he saw. soft creams and whites don't exactly scream 'idol' to him. he remembers, however, that ilde was in a castle before she was here and it was likely that she just never had the time to be fabulous underneath her king's rule.

that's fine, he can work with that. so he's bought a few outfits. a top she can start with, in the palette she's more familiar with, and then something in blue that he thinks would look grand on her. she mentioned something about another girl, angel, coming with them, and judging from her looks giorno picked up a matching jacket for her and he's rather excited about the prospect of having matching outfits. perfume samples litter the bed as well, and giorno has picked up a lot of scents with rather unusual tones: smoke, spice, amber, leather. and some free palettes as well that he was able to get from here and there: nudes to start with, but the rest of them were either red or blue-grey. small tubes of lipstick, mostly dark reds and other unusual colours: blue, green, violet. nail polish in the same colours. giorno has a thing for anything blue or pink, and then lavender, but he tries to get some colours which are easier on the eyes.

the rest are in a bag behind him; giorno has been doing a lot of shopping. ]


The trick is to play with them! After that, they're not so intimidating. [ he sits cross-legged on top of her bed, already wearing the jacket in the same style as he did for angel, trying out a scent on his wrist. ] Oh, smell this one.
Edited 2016-10-10 22:01 (UTC)
circumspector: (xxiii » singing when you're told)

[personal profile] circumspector 2016-10-11 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ Her reasons for coming are less being scared - just that it's one more thing that she doesn't know how to do herself. In a world where there was technology for everything, digistruct had made her somewhat inept of what she was actually meant to do with the tubes she'd picked up herself before this.

Rather, digistruct definitely made it easy to be lazy, and like everything else, she is eager to learn what she'd been missing out on.

She sits on the floor, arms up on the bed, next to where Ilde was sitting, close to her, within easy reach for her because she knows: these sort of things were vastly different to what Ilde herself knew. These sorts of expressions were strictly against what she had been allowed, to say the least. She'd eagerly donned the jacket in the meantime, there's something - nice to it. Pretty, but she adoringly runs her fingers over the metal studs. Maybe she could wear it with her lion? The pink, reds and golds matching to it as well.

A thought for later. For now, when she's prompted, she pushes herself onto her knees to reach where he holds up his wrist. Smelling it and - she likes it.
] It's nice. What is it?

[ her careful maps of putting smells, tastes and sensation to names. ]
tropism: (pic#10540670)

[personal profile] tropism 2016-10-11 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
"Fresh and floral, elegant ... amorous ..." I think it reminds me of roses, but there's a scent in there that doesn't quite settle with me. [ giorno scans the package quickly, frowning at half the things he can't quite tell as he reads them. something too sweet is there .... the scent is tapering off to something more woody on him now. ] The girl who was selling it to me thought I was buying it for my girlfriend. I'd wear it if I were going to the opera, maybe.

[ he glances at angel, and then to ilde, smiling. there was something there, but he won't pry. to angel, he tells her, ] Feel free to take whatever you want!

[ and then he reaches for ilde's hand. ]

Try this colour. It's warm, but not too red? [ he uncaps a small tube and smears it on her wrist. he twists the tube to him and reads. ] They call this shade 'insolence', apparently.
circumspector: (xi » how is it you sing anything)

[personal profile] circumspector 2016-10-11 09:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ If the thought bothers her, she doesn't acknowledge it beyond a brief flicker of warmth back, appreciation of how Ilde thinks of her before she turns back. ]

Really? Thanks. I don't know anything about going to the opera, really.

[ Heard of it at least, even on Pandora, some people still listening to it. With that, she settles back, a happy little smile on her lips. Watching him pull out something this. A murmur of appreciation for the colour as she's back on the floor, resting her chin on her arms where she folds them against the bed's edge. ] That colour would look good on you, Ilde.
tropism: (pic#9530723)

[personal profile] tropism 2016-10-12 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
I've read somewhere that scent is closely tied to memory, more than any of our senses. I can't really explain what's appropriate and what isn't that well, but you know, it's kind of romantic if you were able to tie that to someone. [ a tilt of the head as he ponders the question a bit more. ] We normally get images of things with the symbiote, don't we ...? Scent is more personal.

I'd associate you with flowers ... and a hint of something else - well, if Angel has a collection of that, then she'd know you better than I will.

[ har har har.

giorno raises an eyebrow at the opera comment, and then figured this is another opportunity: ]
Alright, we'll go on a field trip next time. Maybe not the opera, that takes a while to adjust to, though where I come from, I think we've perfected them. We'll start with musicals.

[ if he finds out which theatre is playing the space equivalent of les mis, he is going to hunt them down and make them watch it with him, because that happens to be his favourite. of all time.

as ilde takes a peach lipstick, giorno uncaps a rather pinkish one for himself; he tosses angel another one with the name in excess. ]
This one is called Bergamasque. Try it on - like this -

[ he'll swipe it gently on himself, teaching them how to apply it on his lips. he tosses them some kleenex as well in case they need to wipe any mistakes. ]
Edited 2016-10-12 02:41 (UTC)
circumspector: (v » sitting in cages)

[personal profile] circumspector 2016-10-12 05:12 pm (UTC)(link)
It's like what he said. Different smells bring different reactions. Even if we're not always consciously aware of them. It's almost... animal, really, how much people do it. Blood and tears make us panic and worry, but smells like... food cooking or flowers, remind people of safer things. [ If there's pink on her face for it well - it's mercifully hidden behind the thick of black hair that tucks her away most often. Gently plucking at the blanket with two fingers as she looks over the items in a lazy sort of way as she elaborates. ] Whether they really want to or not, it has an affect on them.

[ Patient, always so, Ilde will pick as she likes, she knows. Glad she's trying at least, watching her do so with a pleased expression before she picks up what she's given. Doesn't uncap it yet, more just carefully watching Gio as he applied it.

Because really, the only person she knew that was nearly this sort of pretty was Moxxi. Different through. Moxxi's beauty was edged, a weapon to slice through skin with. Like everything with Pandora. But he's - different. Art to it maybe. Doesn't know, and she's - oh, over thinking people again. All Jack tinged need to over-anticipate, over analyse the way he draws the colours across his mouth. Perfect accent, no nervousness to his hand. Still, after she carefully uncaps the lid, it's a dark pink. She doesn't put it to her lips straight away, presses her thumb to the cut line and sees the colour it goes on her skin.
]

I know it a little, I think. Or at least we have some of the... [ Not completely sure of the difference, but she supposes the accompaniments are different. The flicker of sound, performances the way she knows best: The Ride of Valkyrie, a choir performance done by pilots buzzard copters and conducted by machine gun fire. In the Hall of the Mountain King, sung under the breath of a walking apocalypse as he rose in the crescendo of his boot to a man's throat, accompanied in screaming and pleading for mercy that was never coming.

Unsure, she brings the lipstick up to mimic, not half so smooth, as she drag it across her bottom lip. Pressing her lips together thoughtfully. Feels - odd. Not bad, she supposes, but odd.
] ... orchestra music? [ Smells nice, though: got to remember not to lick it off absently. ]
tropism: (pic#9530733)

[personal profile] tropism 2016-10-17 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
Come to think of it, I haven't gone to a show of yours .... a proper show, not the one in the vigil, though that was interesting in its own way.

[ what an interesting tableaux of minds. there is definitely something razor sharp in the things that they use for themselves, beautiful, expensive things that spoke of something else. desire in its inexhaustible forms. for giorno there is always venice and its cold marble statues. and then there were his friends, so brilliant and ruthless. mista with his expensive cashmere sweater that he insists on wearing, the one that shows his hip bones as he stalks his prey. the pull of lace beyond bruno's clavicles, pale against his skin. he remembers it so clearly because he had nearly taken his arm off for killing luca. fugo and the haze that follows him that seems to leak out of the holes in his expensive suit, tailored over his body like a glove. abbacchio and his foul, dark-lipped mouth, his hard eyes. the wild burst of colour around narancia's clothes, as explosive as his stand. he misses them all. he remembers them in colours and sounds that quietly linger at the back of his mind, disappearing as soon as they come up, like a music box shut as it winds in the beginning of a song.

there is a photograph he wants to retrieve. the want is childish and giorno recognizes it as such, but he indulges in the want anyway. it's probably at the bottom of the canals now back home; but the man looking over his shoulder, half naked, staring at the camera, came from egypt, as far as he remembers. and egypt must smell like pungent myrrh, waterlilies, and sandalwood. it is a never-ending ache that amuses him to nurse as he applies the one perfume that he wanted for himself with those notes, spraying them over his throat, on his wrists, down his chest.

( perfume reminds him of haruno; haruno shiobana who was always left alone. giorno giovanna never knew what that was like, because giorno giovanna was a parasite in his own way. )

he takes a kleenex in his hands and moves to dab at the corners of angel's lips, taking whatever colour that feathers out of the lines for her, his fingers gentle on her jaw. ]


I know a man who could kill a crowd with a plague. He called it Purple Haze. It hit you like thunder, and vanished like a storm. Funnily enough, he kept his friends safe with it.

[ in his mind: a mirror, a snake, a brick. a bird dropping out of the sky and rotting as it fell, dead. bright sunlight in the ruins of pompeii. he remembers all of this fondly. ]

And I am familiar with the music .... well, most of it anyway. [ ride of the valkyrie, definitely. and then there were ilde's thoughts of blood and darkness, and giorno finds them familiar both. he looks at the girl with the pink cheeks, and the one with peach-coloured lips. ] You both look good. Even together. [ rather annoyed, but of course, all in good nature: ] I'm jealous!
circumspector: (( listening ) » I've lived my life)

[personal profile] circumspector 2016-10-17 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ She closes her eyes as Gio lifts her face up to clean up the edges of the lipstick on her mouth. Making sure to hold still for him even as she fiddles her fingers against the blanket in absent habit.

Eyes closed because she likes this too. The intimacy of being dressed up. Of being looked after in a way that isn't scientists fingers in her body, isn't Jack soothing her brow and telling her pain is because he loves her. This is casual, comfortable, what everyone she had ever known took for granted and she so desperately craved. Has now, so happily, in the brush if Ilde's thoughts and the careful hold of fingers against her jaw. Made - right, like she knows best, in the wash of violent thought amidst the crafting of beauty. The dark, seething things Ilde knew and she made for herself too, the blister of beautiful people all blood soaked.

She's content, she realises, so utterly, utterly content and she probably shouldn't be -
]

( I'd like that. )

[ Something for just them to know, between them. Would like it - if for no other reason than Ilde had picked it for her.

A pleasant thought, still blushing for it, but still happily still as Gio neatens her up more as he likes, and she listens to the thoughts, the images he gives in accent to his words.

When he good-naturedly compliments them she grins probably ruining the effect someone what -
] Not least of all because of you. [ It's a tease back. It's not like they knew what they were doing, after all. ]
tropism: (pic#10532679)

[personal profile] tropism 2016-10-18 06:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ a slight gasp, turning his attention from the perfume in his hands to ilde: ] That is excellent. You have to wear that from now on!

[ lord, what a face. that is so beautiful, so wonderful. he is very excited about this potential, it feels like electricity humming underneath his skin, as it always does with things that he feels in potential. growth that feels like the sun settling in his bones. it is always the same, exciting feeling, being a part of something huge.

and he is excited about everything. not in the way he had to carefully slot himself in a unit, but one where he feels he belongs despite things obviously for themselves. he finds that one charming, too. charming, and only slightly tinged with want, because how lovely that must be. to want to be with someone else and to pick scents and colours with them that remind them of each other. giorno, for most of his short life, had been aiming for the world; and now that he doesn't have to, he can only look at himself, figuring out his wants and needs. it is an odd feeling, to want something for yourself that isn't the world.

power and colour remind him of home. fugo reminds him of home, too. does your power have a name? it does, but he hasn't used it here in a while, although he's done smaller things, like transform smaller items into animals or show mara how he heals injuries. his Stand, though, he keeps for himself still. it is the only thing he has from his world. ]


Gold Experience. [ he purses his lips in thought. ] Then again, we all had names for them.