Alberto "oh no" Scorfano (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prontissimo) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kaisou2022-03-01 06:14 pm
prontissimo) wrote in kaisou2022-03-01 06:14 pm
action + text; open
WHO: Alberto e tu!
WHERE: Around town + network
WHEN: 1 March
WHAT: debut of a very smad Alberto "oh no" Scorfano...
WARNINGS: none. preteen abandonment issues?
🌊 a. arrival
[ A nightmare. That's surely what's happening. It's taken Alberto hours to come to that conclusion, but that's the only sensible explanation, and Alberto's not typically the type to err on the side of sensibility. He's dreaming that he's on his island again.
And again.
And again...
Every turn he takes, no matter if he leaps off the cliff, dives into the ocean, slips into the sea from the smooth-pebbled beach, or just runs around aimlessly... it lands him in the center of the wilderness of his small, uninhabited island — a place he's called home most of his short life, regardless of how much weight the word "home" carries, for better or worse. He's tried desperately to return to his new home with his boss at the pescheria, Massimo, in Portorosso, but even though the human town is just a couple miles off shore from his own private island... it's ever farther away, with every attempt to escape. He's trapped. Again. He's alone. Again...
And that's the real kicker. No one's gonna come save him from this labyrinth. No one can get in. He's not sure he can get out. This is just... his life now. Just like it was before. After hours of futile attempts to swim away, he's inevitably spat out by the sea, left ashore alone and angry. So after hours of wandering in what should be a perfectly familiar expanse of nature and nothingness that he typically knows like the back of his hand, but now has strange new paths he's not sure how to navigate, he keeps finding himself lost, arriving back in the same spot, or somewhere new, maybe leaping from one side of the tiny island to another with a single turn... Even for someone a bit saner than this strange child, it'd drive a person mad.
So after a full day spent this way, he can tell the sky is growing dark, bizarre as it is that it's still red and cloudless and alight in a way he's never seen. Surely, he must be dreaming. Can there be another explanation? So, the most reluctantly he's ever done anything... he retires to his tower. It's destroyed. Just like he'd last seen it, after quitting the triathlon, betraying Luca, Luca betraying him... after Alberto ruining everything... but before he fixed it. The last thing he wants to do is string up the hammock in his dilapidated lighthouse again, but for all his confusion, despair, panic— what else can he do?
Maybe if he's dreaming this nightmare, the way to get out of it is to undream it, if he goes to sleep while he's asleep... Big brain stuff, eh?
But not. Like, at all. He can't sleep but for a few minutes at a time, after such a distressing day. And that awful voice in the back of his mind tells him this is how it's supposed to be, as "Bruno" steals the sleep from him...
You're supposed to be alone.
It was too good to be true.
Massimo's better off without you.
This is your life, Alberto...
Alone. Da solo. Solitario.
...So deal with it. Even if he never recognized that he was actually in a maze, the mental effects absolutely felt like one. After a few hours of his Bruno off-and-on whispering dark thoughts to him, he decided sleep would not help. Maybe stars would, though. At the very least... looking at the stars makes him think of Luca now. And bittersweet as it is, that's a helluva lot better than whatever Bruno had to say.
So, just as dawn is breaking in this weird red, cracked sky, Alberto ascends his staircase to reach the top of his lighthouse, ready to start a fire and spend yet another sleepless night by himself, hoping to catch the last cascade of stars across the changing sky before they disappear to light, dreaming, escaping, silencing his Bruno...
But instead finds himself—
somewhere else?
A city.
A big city.
He made it out of his labyrinth alone. He could only make it out of his labyrinth alone — that's the real challenge for a child who's spent a bulk of the past fourteen years in some kind of solitude, plus the past two years in absolute total isolation. There's nothing Alberto prizes more than a sense of capability... and whether or not he should believe his father, he does, and still firmly believes he's old enough to take care of himself.
But finding himself in the city of Kaisou, his only experience of a human town being a small fishing village on the Italian Riviera in the 1960s...? Well, this throws him entirely for a loop.
He barely skims the instruction manual for his cell phone, doesn't even make it past the first few pages, and, uh, fucking wings the rest of it. Like he always does with anything in life.
But he's definitely not dressed for this weather, walking around in a tank top and shorts, barefoot in the snow... The latter is the most problematic. So his first priority is to take shelter. He can't afford getting wet when he doesn't know where the hell he is... or what these humans here are like. The townspeople in Portorosso were hard enough to win over... and he has the scars to prove it. He's not taking any chances. Find him in town immediately after escaping his labyrinth, feeling some kind of way, stewing by himself, wandering very obviously hopelessly. Dai, Alberto, forza... ]
☕ b. buona fortuna e buon caffè;
[ His whole labyrinth experience has left him particularly grumpy, to put it lightly. There are some unseen sides to Alberto, behind the exaggerated but genuine charisma and whimsy, and the city of Kaisou has the unfortunate privilege of first meeting secret-smad Alberto. Bruno got the better of him in that labyrinth, and that pestering voice hasn't quite let up yet.
Find the child in a convenience store, the first place he finds, arguing loudly with the attendant at the counter. ]
I— told— you! I'll pay you back, okay?! I just want espresso! Es-pres-so!
[ The attendant retorts hotly, "Kid, I know what espresso is, but we don't sell espresso, and even if we did, you need money!" But Alberto just groans exasperatedly, dragging his hands down his face with some theatrics. He's... clearly having a rough time of it. Help a kid out? Or... not? He's gotta learn how the world works, after all. He was a big fish in a small pond, and now he's a little fish in a big sea... He doesn't even know what "North America" is, man. Kid was educated by a single narcissist with very weak commitment to his only son's betterment, even at the basic level. Alberto's wit is owed to his own merit. Kid still writes his Ǝ's backwards, though. The fuck does he know about the world? He ain't even got shoes... and winter here is quite unlike winter in Liguria. Just to see the child is disconcerting, let alone tune into the increasingly aggressive public problem he's instigating. ]
🛵 c. text; un: signorvespa
ciao a tutti
dont know how this Everrything Machine works
BUT
looking for massimo marcovaldo
bushy mustacehe and eyebrows
one arm
probly the biggest human ever?
mean cat macchiavelli
also has a mustache
but a cat mustache!
also looking for luca paguro
short with brownhair round face big brown eyes fishface
NICE GUY
and i guess giulia marcovaldo
red curly hair wtih lots to say HA
anyone seen thees people? and/or cat???
ciao
alberto scorfano
[ He attaches a couple photos of photos: he received a color photograph of Massimo, Machiavelli, and himself, as well as a black-and-white photograph of Luca, Giulia and her mamma. For someone who's scarcely used even his own 1960's technology... Alberto's getting the hang of the cell phone pretty quick. Even if he's... determinedly calling it an "Everything Machine." Education and intelligence have little to do with each other, at the end of the day, okay. ]
WHERE: Around town + network
WHEN: 1 March
WHAT: debut of a very smad Alberto "oh no" Scorfano...
WARNINGS: none. preteen abandonment issues?
🌊 a. arrival
[ A nightmare. That's surely what's happening. It's taken Alberto hours to come to that conclusion, but that's the only sensible explanation, and Alberto's not typically the type to err on the side of sensibility. He's dreaming that he's on his island again.
And again.
And again...
Every turn he takes, no matter if he leaps off the cliff, dives into the ocean, slips into the sea from the smooth-pebbled beach, or just runs around aimlessly... it lands him in the center of the wilderness of his small, uninhabited island — a place he's called home most of his short life, regardless of how much weight the word "home" carries, for better or worse. He's tried desperately to return to his new home with his boss at the pescheria, Massimo, in Portorosso, but even though the human town is just a couple miles off shore from his own private island... it's ever farther away, with every attempt to escape. He's trapped. Again. He's alone. Again...
And that's the real kicker. No one's gonna come save him from this labyrinth. No one can get in. He's not sure he can get out. This is just... his life now. Just like it was before. After hours of futile attempts to swim away, he's inevitably spat out by the sea, left ashore alone and angry. So after hours of wandering in what should be a perfectly familiar expanse of nature and nothingness that he typically knows like the back of his hand, but now has strange new paths he's not sure how to navigate, he keeps finding himself lost, arriving back in the same spot, or somewhere new, maybe leaping from one side of the tiny island to another with a single turn... Even for someone a bit saner than this strange child, it'd drive a person mad.
So after a full day spent this way, he can tell the sky is growing dark, bizarre as it is that it's still red and cloudless and alight in a way he's never seen. Surely, he must be dreaming. Can there be another explanation? So, the most reluctantly he's ever done anything... he retires to his tower. It's destroyed. Just like he'd last seen it, after quitting the triathlon, betraying Luca, Luca betraying him... after Alberto ruining everything... but before he fixed it. The last thing he wants to do is string up the hammock in his dilapidated lighthouse again, but for all his confusion, despair, panic— what else can he do?
Maybe if he's dreaming this nightmare, the way to get out of it is to undream it, if he goes to sleep while he's asleep... Big brain stuff, eh?
But not. Like, at all. He can't sleep but for a few minutes at a time, after such a distressing day. And that awful voice in the back of his mind tells him this is how it's supposed to be, as "Bruno" steals the sleep from him...
You're supposed to be alone.
It was too good to be true.
Massimo's better off without you.
This is your life, Alberto...
Alone. Da solo. Solitario.
...So deal with it. Even if he never recognized that he was actually in a maze, the mental effects absolutely felt like one. After a few hours of his Bruno off-and-on whispering dark thoughts to him, he decided sleep would not help. Maybe stars would, though. At the very least... looking at the stars makes him think of Luca now. And bittersweet as it is, that's a helluva lot better than whatever Bruno had to say.
So, just as dawn is breaking in this weird red, cracked sky, Alberto ascends his staircase to reach the top of his lighthouse, ready to start a fire and spend yet another sleepless night by himself, hoping to catch the last cascade of stars across the changing sky before they disappear to light, dreaming, escaping, silencing his Bruno...
But instead finds himself—
somewhere else?
A city.
A big city.
He made it out of his labyrinth alone. He could only make it out of his labyrinth alone — that's the real challenge for a child who's spent a bulk of the past fourteen years in some kind of solitude, plus the past two years in absolute total isolation. There's nothing Alberto prizes more than a sense of capability... and whether or not he should believe his father, he does, and still firmly believes he's old enough to take care of himself.
But finding himself in the city of Kaisou, his only experience of a human town being a small fishing village on the Italian Riviera in the 1960s...? Well, this throws him entirely for a loop.
He barely skims the instruction manual for his cell phone, doesn't even make it past the first few pages, and, uh, fucking wings the rest of it. Like he always does with anything in life.
But he's definitely not dressed for this weather, walking around in a tank top and shorts, barefoot in the snow... The latter is the most problematic. So his first priority is to take shelter. He can't afford getting wet when he doesn't know where the hell he is... or what these humans here are like. The townspeople in Portorosso were hard enough to win over... and he has the scars to prove it. He's not taking any chances. Find him in town immediately after escaping his labyrinth, feeling some kind of way, stewing by himself, wandering very obviously hopelessly. Dai, Alberto, forza... ]
☕ b. buona fortuna e buon caffè;
[ His whole labyrinth experience has left him particularly grumpy, to put it lightly. There are some unseen sides to Alberto, behind the exaggerated but genuine charisma and whimsy, and the city of Kaisou has the unfortunate privilege of first meeting secret-smad Alberto. Bruno got the better of him in that labyrinth, and that pestering voice hasn't quite let up yet.
Find the child in a convenience store, the first place he finds, arguing loudly with the attendant at the counter. ]
I— told— you! I'll pay you back, okay?! I just want espresso! Es-pres-so!
[ The attendant retorts hotly, "Kid, I know what espresso is, but we don't sell espresso, and even if we did, you need money!" But Alberto just groans exasperatedly, dragging his hands down his face with some theatrics. He's... clearly having a rough time of it. Help a kid out? Or... not? He's gotta learn how the world works, after all. He was a big fish in a small pond, and now he's a little fish in a big sea... He doesn't even know what "North America" is, man. Kid was educated by a single narcissist with very weak commitment to his only son's betterment, even at the basic level. Alberto's wit is owed to his own merit. Kid still writes his Ǝ's backwards, though. The fuck does he know about the world? He ain't even got shoes... and winter here is quite unlike winter in Liguria. Just to see the child is disconcerting, let alone tune into the increasingly aggressive public problem he's instigating. ]
🛵 c. text; un: signorvespa
ciao a tutti
dont know how this Everrything Machine works
BUT
looking for massimo marcovaldo
bushy mustacehe and eyebrows
one arm
probly the biggest human ever?
mean cat macchiavelli
also has a mustache
but a cat mustache!
also looking for luca paguro
short with brownhair round face big brown eyes fishface
NICE GUY
and i guess giulia marcovaldo
red curly hair wtih lots to say HA
anyone seen thees people? and/or cat???
ciao
alberto scorfano
[ He attaches a couple photos of photos: he received a color photograph of Massimo, Machiavelli, and himself, as well as a black-and-white photograph of Luca, Giulia and her mamma. For someone who's scarcely used even his own 1960's technology... Alberto's getting the hang of the cell phone pretty quick. Even if he's... determinedly calling it an "Everything Machine." Education and intelligence have little to do with each other, at the end of the day, okay. ]
no subject
Uhhhhh y-yeah? Last time I checked I was a real person? I'm- [what the fuck, kid? what the actual fuck?] not in your head? I...uh- you don't need to fight me? I've never seen you before in my life?
[God, this is why he should never got outside. People say he's weird!!!]
no subject
Pfft— No, no, no, no, no, no, no — you know — that voice in your head. "Bruno." I was expecting— Ehah, I don't know what I was expecting, but I was expecting him. Y'know, that voice that says everything you don't wanna hear...
[ Alberto loosens up considerably, just for the sake of theatrics, even taking a step closer toward the man, though he's still gesticulating for emphasis. ]
I mean, Bruno says the heavy stuff: "You ruin everything, you're a bad son, people are better off without you...~" All that.
[ He unconsciously throws his gaze to the ground with the final, most heavy-hitting sentiment, though he keeps up his animated demeanor still... These are some thoughts he grappled with this morning in his labyrinth; not because the labyrinth magically influenced his thoughts or anything, though, that's just— what he was thinking... So it still feels a little raw. He disguises that tenderness quickly, though. ]
O-Or! Or! A Bruno tells you all the bad stuff that's gonna happen! To ruin your fun!
[ Alberto gains more wind in his sails now, shifting toward humor as he points excitedly at Bruno with a spike in energy, making deliberate eye contact now; then rolls off a few very tongue-in-cheek descriptions of the bleak future his "Bruno" portrays to him... He forces a meek, crooked, not-at-all-convincing smile as he does, mirthless laughter laced through his words. ]
"Alberto, you can't. Alberto, don't eat that! A-Alberto, eheh, you're gonna die...~" Ehah— Th-That kinda stuff! That guy!
[ Though there's a strangely genuine-seeming levity and lightheartedness about the boy that's becoming apparent, the feigned nonchalance is clearly well-practiced. His voice has a dismissive, put-on inflection, waving his hand to brush off each of his "Bruno's" warnings one-by-one. At "Alberto, you're gonna die," though, he gives a dramatic roll of his eyes, then seeks eye contact with Bruno unabashedly again, smirk back in place. Way too humorous about all this... ]
That voice you wanna shut up. I thought— Aha, I dunno, I thought, if I beat Bruno... ...M-Maybe I'd get outta here.
[ There is a crack in that casual act, though, just for a blip, his eyes drifting down for a slight second, breaking that bold eye contact, though the smile stays on his face in spite of himself — just barely falters. He looks back up with a more apologetic smile then, opening his frame charismatically once more. ]
Buuuut...— You're not a Bruno. You're just an— old guy.
[ He gestures up and down at Bruno, giving him the once-over again, as if... looking like this... he could never be the "Bruno" Alberto is imagining. Who knows what this Bruno character looks like, maybe not even Alberto, but Alberto seems sure that he'd know him when he saw him. ]
No offense. I mean— seriously, no offense. But... Heh, yeah. Uh. Not Bruno.
[ He shoots him one purposefully placed finger-gun, with a cockeyed smirk and apologetic eyes, warmer than before, on telling him he's "not Bruno..." What a stark contrast from the grumpy and stubborn boy online, to now this dynamic and energetic (if not a little over-the-top, too), but still just as strange and mystifying, young man before him. Although, Alberto's probably also unintentionally sounding very sad despite fancying he's sounding very brave and wise... At least, uh... h-he seems nicer now...? S-Sort of?! ]
no subject
It's not every day you learn your name is being used by a kid to name the (imaginary?) voice in his head for all the bad things he wants to avoid. Sure, he was openly treated like that back home, but this hits different.
Similar, but different.
A Bruno tells you all the bad stuff that's gonna happen! really hits home though and he actively winces at it, and the more Alberto talks, the smaller and smaller he tries to make himself become. Because this kid is hurting. He's terrible at reading social cues and even he picks up on this one.
Great, great, so now he's actively hurting people who don't even exist in the same place as him. That's super. He's loving this.]
...There are people back home who'd say that about me. Some of it- the bad stuff part not...not the you ruin everything stuff.
[That's usually aimed AT him, he doesn't aim that at other people.
This whole thing is making him intensely uncomfortable. It's WEIRD having a stranger lay down a whole hunk of your trauma when it's clearly his trauma and how in the hell is that supposed to match? How can you have same-sies trauma yet still be so different?
But the kid is smiling and clearly...okay with this and he's not sure how to handle any of this. He kind of wants to immediately bail out on this conversation, but this is a child and he's clearly got enough of a Bruno complex already. His fingers drum nervously on the box he's holding.]
Um. I'm sorry you had a bad time with... that Bruno.
no subject
Wait— Is... your name— actually Bruno...?
no subject
Yeah, I'm...actually Bruno. Like. My real name and everything.
no subject
He grits his teeth and stares at Bruno for a silent moment, gripping one arm uncomfortably, similarly matching the man's self-minimizing body frame. But after a visibly uncomfortable pause, enough to rival Bruno's own obvious discomfort, Alberto suddenly sheds that physical anxiety, feigning a coolness he inwardly lacks, and places his hand back on his hip contraposto again, waving his other hand in the air at the man, forcing a convincing, unbothered grin, voice dripping in good humor. ]
Well— this is awkward, eheh...
[ No kidding. You too, Albertino? ]
no subject
Bruno hesitates at the sudden change in the kid- mostly because he's still feeling pretty displaced. All the yelling has unearthed his bearly-buried issues and he'd really rather not deal with any of this. The temptation to run comes back to him again, and he tries to quash it. ]
Hah-hah. I guess so. Definitely not- not your one though. Just...making sure we really establish that.
no subject
[ An apologetic smile, waving a hand out to gesture at all of the man, trying to imbue the barest smidge of respect, here. This has gone... horribly awry. But still salvageable — maybe. ]
no subject
[He' just gonna...repeat that quietly to himself, before a little smile crosses his face.]
Y'know what, Kid? I think I can live with that. OH! [He thrusts the box in Alberto's direction.] Here! Stuff! To uh- make staying here a little easier. Also food. So you don't starve.
no subject
Oh! Right! Um! Th-...Thank you? Ehh—
[ He peers into the box once more, but it's hard to register what all is in it because he's frankly a little too moved to be receiving such kindness when he'd been intending to fight this guy from his very core, and now... he's got a care package. It's a lot of emotional whiplash for the both of them. He fumbles for words, strumming his fingertips rhythmically along the edges of the boxes in his hands to fidget as he tries to find his words, but ultimately just repeats himself more earnestly and returns Bruno's awkward little smile. ]
...Heh. Yeah. Thanks — Signor Bruno...