up all night

[immortalized]

texts
messages
tfln overflow
notes
letters
whatever you fancy

Comments

[polnawrath]

[ Polnareff's not one to shy from necessary touching; he only feels bad for shoving a stranger to the ground because it's aggressive, not out of any shyness. Perhaps ironically, he doesn't even sense anything remiss about being briefly on top of another guy.

That easy sensibility towards survival fizzles, just a little, when the man he just tackled speaks. Polnareff's eyes widen and he leans back for a moment of surprise — he recognizes the voice, and the switch of language is a swift following shock. Together, the two of them fight the otherwise-lacking similarities to the last time he'd heard this particular voice and tone, this baritone that's strikingly deep but soft, firm without seeming demanding. Polnareff would think it's a nice voice, does even despite himself, except for everything else associated with it. ]

You're— C'est toi, le mec dans la robe qui j'ai vu hier! Tu aimes cette langue, eh? [ The language switch is instinctive and instantaneous, even as it upsets Polnareff's own equilibrium further. ] Et— Look, this is really weird, but you—

You can sense the Stand user down there? [ There's only one possible explanation for this to Polnareff, who now stops leaning away and instead prioritizing finding his footing again, standing in the dim hallway. He feels Chariot under his skin, concerned for his well-being and steady as metal always is, readying himself to materialize. In a moment, he has — silver helmet catching the dim emergency lighting in an eerie way, sword brandished but not used yet as Chariot hovers near Polnareff's shoulder. ] Do you have a Stand?

[immortalized]

{ Ambrose admitted his awareness as a peace offering, to prove that he can aid in some way — but what it becomes is an inquisition, and he doesn't know how to answer Polnareff's questions.

if the man can see his expression against the floor lights, then perhaps it might be obvious. }

A— 'stand'? I don't... { this is out of Ambrose's league, and he briefly wonders if this is one of the many lovely things his sire never told him about after turning him. he's never heard of something called a stand user, and when Polnareff asks if he has a stand, he gets the feeling that this isn't an abstract concept...especially not after sensing this presence earlier, and after the strange and dangerous phenomenon that could have been overlooked, if Polnareff hadn't responded to it like it were a predator landing an attack.

the presence shifts — and builds behind Polnareff's shoulder like a bubble of gravity, and suddenly, Ambrose sees it. like some costumed thing off of the stages Ambrose used to stand upon, the presence is shaped like a phantom and an armored guard simultaneously. Ambrose's eyes are keen in the dark, and watched it materialize from nothing...and the energy humming from the soldier-like entity is so similar to the feeling from before.

he can't help but assume— }

Behind you—! { Ambrose lunges forward, hands out and open to grasp at the front of Polnareff's shirt, and with the incredible strength he has in his body so often ignored, he pulls the man in and around him, swiftly positioning himself between Polnareff and the armored-looking thing. he twists to face his back to Polnareff, turning to stare down the humanoid entity...

but while that energy is identical, Ambrose pauses with tense contemplation — this thing doesn't feel quite as fiercefully menacing as the surge from before, and now that he stands between them, Ambrose feels the...strangest sense of a pull between them, like standing against a draft down a corridor. }

What...is this? { seeing is believing, but not necessarily comprehending; is this what Polnareff called a 'Stand'? }

[polnawrath]

[ Well, he's not the chuckle-and-threaten type, if nothing else — the man says he doesn't know what a Stand is, staring at him blankly. Is he playing dumb? How else would he be able to sense other Stands?

Or see the one that's now in front of him? The man clearly stares at Chariot and Polnareff is already moving to cross his arms over his chest, certain he's correct and being lied to as the man looks alarmed—

But then the man reaches forward through that alarm and...grabs him. ] Hey, what— [ But the grip, while stronger than Polnareff would have anticipated from such a lithe frame, isn't aggressive. The man lets go before Polnareff even has to threaten him to do so. They've simply swapped places now, with Polnareff behind the man and the man between himself and Chariot—

Between himself and Chariot...

Polnareff's expression cracks wide open from its narrowed suspicion, his surprise clear on his face. This man moved him out of the way to stand between what he thinks is a threat and the stranger he met last night, who tried to hit on him and then snapped at him. ] ...Yeah.

You can see him, but you don't know what he is? [ The doubtful anger that was in his voice before is absent, tone no less forceful for its lack. His eyebrows meet questioningly in the middle; Polnareff is still young, and he looks it more while he's momentarily unbalanced. ]

But you still tried to get me out of danger. [ He's in no small amount of genuine awe. Not that he thought all gay people were amoral monsters — he doesn't really care, hasn't had to think about it much — but the simple fact of being 'saved' by anyone again is a sensitive spot being prodded without warning.

Polnareff reaches a hand out — past the stranger, gesturing towards his familiar Stand. The little bit of his soul mixed with an outside force, the one that's been his since he can remember. ] This is Silver Chariot. [ And, following his cue and his master's flair for the dramatic, Chariot swerves right around the stranger to again flank Polnareff's side, rapier raised but still not attacking. ] And we're not the ones making the electricity here attack people.

[immortalized]

{ Ambrose can't possibly understand on his own, not with what knowledge he is still sorely lacking, but he can still bear witness. the gleaming figure here in the semi-dark, tangible and connected to the other man with him, is unknown but absolutely present with them.

he doesn't realize his embarrassing misunderstanding until Polnareff's hand hovers beside his head, and he gives the creature a name, Silver Chariot. it vanishes, but the sensation around it does not dissipate — simply realigns, moves. behind him again.

Ambrose twists around, following Chariot and settling his eyes on the other man, awe-struck and curious. whatever this phenomenon is, this Stand, he cannot say, but he is interested to try.

now might be simultaneously the best and worst time to begin. }

It's...an extension of you, isn't it? { he gazes from Polnareff to his magical cohort, aligned to him like a familiar; is it some sort of sorcery, or an innate gift? Silver Chariot...clad in armor and holding a rapier at the ready, staring back with beady, glowing eyes. } Un chevalier.

{ is that what Polnareff is? a knight of some deeper realm, one who rises up when danger rears its horns for a victim to gouge? } I don't think I possess anything so outstanding as this gift of yours.

{ although he can see them and, moreover, sense them, which Ambrose doesn't realize is unique in any way. } The electrical discharge — was another one of these Stands? Whose?

[polnawrath]

Yes and no. I'm not an expert, but— he's linked to me. [ 'He', not 'it', the way Polnareff had always thought of Chariot since childhood. He's past the point of thinking he was the only one, past believing he was alone in his powers, but the fact that his Stand is a thinking being with its own intertwined will is something Polnareff has never doubted.

What he is doubting is right in front of him. Polnareff crosses his arms, Chariot waiting next to him. ] I've never heard of someone who can see then but doesn't have one...maybe you just haven't met yours yet. [ Is that possible? Hadn't Jotaro discovered his own just weeks before starting to search for DIO?

And then Polnareff sighs, arms going to his hips as he walks up closer to the stranger — is he still a stranger, now? — to look at the outlet with suspicion. ] We don't know whose Stand is doing this. We just know we need to stop him before he gets anyone killed.

[ Polnareff's expression settles into something a little more serious, a bit more grim. Chariot floats right after him, vigilante towards the hallway until he turns with his master to consider the stranger as well. ] If you can't defend yourself with a Stand, you should leave.

We'll take care of him. You'll be safer outside. [ His tone isn't condescending, just confident — Polnareff assumes he's looking at a civilian without any supernatural powers. ]