snail • master

[ Independent RP Blog for Domenico Pucci/Weather Report from JJBA: Stone Ocean. NSFW ]

[dmrelk-deactivated20190227]

oK I FINALLY DID A GOOD DAMN THINGGGGGG!!!!!!!!11

5/6 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY PUCCI TWINS <3

I’m terrible i know ok bye

[dmrelk-deactivated20190227]

I just want them to kill each other sobs grossly on the floor this feels i cannot

[anikicostello]

  "So… not good weather. Well, that’s Florida for you." 

She waves her hand around. ”Can’t you just…stand it away?”

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— « Yeah. Not the nicest of countries for us colorless people who also have not so well functioning organs because of genetics being truly nasty with us. Oh well. »

— A hand moves back, scratching lightly the base of his neck. « It's not that I can't. . . I'd rather avoid to attire attention with sudden changes of weather right now. Especially since I heard about the priest being around. »

[14phrases-blog]

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[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— Pulled. Almost restrained, his own silvery locks becoming the leash that, along with the other's well placed words and moves, were creating a cage and an harness forcing the convict to move along with the clergyman's desires --if he desired to survive to that mad, mad world of theirs, he had no choice but follow the leash, obey and remain silent, or only invisible and visible wounds would have been the reward he would have received for his actions.

— His lips and head were forced to follow the pace of the priest, tongue flickering on the warm, soft surface whose tip was pressing against the back of his throat -- sucking and moving the organ almost erratically. Gulps were announcing a gag reflex he was so strongly trying to conceal and repress, as the inmate was still donating what he was able to do in order to fulfill the other's sick desire as quickly as he could --setting himself free in that way, giving himself the chance to run and return in his lonely cellar, so he could spend the rest of his sentence without being bothered or causing even more problems with his presence. Because, as far as he could remember, basing himself on his sensations and the scrap of feelings he seemed to trigger when facing a certain situation, it was always his fault and his fault alone if something beyond horrible happened to the ones he loved --if Jolyne and the other's were almost risking so many dangers with him around, and even. . .

—  . . . again that blur, that sharp spark of pain that caused him to muffle a groan and try not to clench his jaw in such a delicate situation. Icy hues were watery, almost ready to release tears of renewed shame if they could, denying whatever form of primordial pleasure he or the other were gaining from all of that with all his might, ready to wash all of it away with drops of salt. But he didn't, and silently the torture continued

[14phrases-blog]

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[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— The touch insisted to press against his thigh, delivering a warmth his body was instinctively appreciating --but his brain, fighting against already existing binds and holes, was finding indeed difficult to consider such a treatment as 'pleasurable'. Especially when he perfectly knew what consequences whatever wrong move of his could have on his person and his sentence.  The convict himself forced himself to endure, fists becoming blue right on the colorless knuckles, jaw tensing, pressure applied as his teeth were almost gritting. A quick squeeze of his icy hues lowering the quick seconds in which he was more than ready to turn and punch the pries right on his snout like he always desired --maybe also for different reason he couldn't recall for a reason or two.

— Suddenly though, the pressure ended, his thigh relieved by the constant teasing waking unwanted reactions to the still active body of the albino --but the hat was the one paying the consequences of the apparent end of the torture, removed so brutally as it revealed the long, silvery locks of the convict, the resemblance between the two becoming striking, yes, but unnoticed by Weather himself. The only thing he was noticing, for now, was how the other seemed so willing to turn his permanence in the prison a living Hell. And he was doing great.

— The pale locks were used like a leash --pulled to cause his head to move alongside, a low groan leaving the colorless lips of the albino --the same lips he found himself pressing against that almost boiling, throbbing spot where the priest and torturer wanted them to be, trailing them upwards and downwards with a steady rythm, a flush of shame tainting his cheeks with a faint, almost unnoticeable shade of pink.

[14phrases-blog]

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[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— He could still perceive the movements of the priest, his figure now being definitely closer to where he was sitting, the scent of clean coming from that figure coaxing so strongly with the scent of hormones and sweat coming from himself.

— Then he felt a hand squeezing his thigh, and his icy gaze visibly widened with horror and surprise.

— It wasn't the first time the priest acted like this with him --or was it? He couldn't remember. He couldn't recall any of the actions concerning him entering and exiting the chapel, a gap always being there, right where the time he spent in there was. Weather found himself almost shaking with a sense of disgust mounting to his throat, fists clenching as he forced himself to stay immobile.  He couldn't risk the other to prolong his sentence for a move of self defense that the other could easily turn into a mindless aggression by twisting the facts with well placed words --far more trustworthy than a convict's, that was how the law worked in there. He couldn't risk the other to ruin him, or even harm his companion as a consequence of his rebellion, or defense.

— A gulp escaped his bitten lips, nervousness still being so visible in his light blue eyes. « I. . . don't know if I'm worthy to see this miracle, Father. » The inmate commented, his voice being nothing but an hoarse murmur.

[attainingheaven-deactivated2014]

  She tries to ignore that fact for now, showing a very kind expression— as one would expect from one serving the Lord.

"I see. Well you’re more than welcomed to stay here for the night. The church welcomes all with open arms."

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— Despite all, that weird sensation wasn't going away. Not even when the nun seemed to show a kind expression, so coaxing with the almost devilish one deforming the traits of the priest he was used to see in that chapel.

— « Thank you, sister. » He murmured, his steps echoing within the walls of the chapel. « I won't remain much. Just until the sun starts setting and the heat's more bearable to allow me to arrive to my cellar without having to faint mid-way. »

[attainingheaven-deactivated2014]

She blinks in surprise, a bit stunned by how much this man resembles her sister. He’s even got that silly getup.

"You.. May I help you?"

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— He found himself rising a brow when the approaching figure talked to him. The resemblance between the nun in front of him and the priest of the prison's chapel was indeed striking.

— « Mhn? I am just looking for a place where the heat doesn't hit too much, so I can rest a little. Being albino doesn't make you kind of sun-friendly, Sister. »

[anikicostello]

    ”Oh? What’s good, Weather?”

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— « Weirdly enough --I'm trying to survive to this heat. It's not exactly healthy --especially if you have to deal with albinism. »

[14phrases-blog]

  The cathedral was constructed in a way that let the light casting through the stained glass fall to create subdued shadows. He could settle in the shadows in plain sight but never allowing his true motives to surface. Another sign that the universe was working his favor was that the concentration of sunlight in the corner was enough to faze the man facing him.

"A miracle.” He paused, words sinking in. “The work of a saint or God—anyone with supernatural powers, really. It’s all we can wish for."

In a subtle insult, he took on a condescending tone, choosing to elaborate literally. HIs eyebrows were furrowed together, faking a mask of concern.He would never admit to it out of his faith, but he was starting to inherit the complacent attitude of his predecessor.

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— Not being able to see him was unnerving. Incredibly so. He could feel an unknonw rush wanting him to move and punch the other's visage so hard --wanting him to lose some teeth in the process, perhaps--, but yet he didn't move. After all, he was the one with shackles forbidding him to freely move --not the extremely suspicious priest.

— « I know what the definition of 'miracle' is, Father. » Biting his lower lip a little, slowly, he found himself mumbling, for a moment looking away, trying to suppress this definitely weird feeling shaking his viscera. Damn, if that priest seemed to adore getting on his nerves with all those cryptic sentences, even when it wasn't really necessary.

— Yet he sighted, shifting as he tried to regain some sort of composure, wanting to face the other somehow. « I wanted to know what kind of miracle it was --and it surely isn't dividing the ocean or turning its waters into wine. »

[14phrases-blog]

  "I hope you will one day regain them." He leaned forward, resting his chin on laced fingers. Although he was much closer to other, he keep in the shadows, preferring to let the shadows fall flat on his face along with his motives.

"Maybe it won’t be grasping at straws to say that a miracle could be in progress…" he suggested. Two black pupils narrowed themselves when he noticed the other’s eyes shifting away. 

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }—      He couldn't shake away that feeling of something being so wrong, terribly wrong, in the whole demeanor the priest was showing towards him. The way he hid in the shadows, the way his eyes almost seemed to communicate a twisted hope. . . It only managed to make his head throb and hurt, the headache forcing him to bite his lip lightly, scratching the delicate skin of his neck.

— At least it wasn't that much sunny, that day --his skin couldn't actually stand the lack of proper protection, a protection the walls of the prison could offer to him to a certain extent. Sometimes the shadows weren't enough to protect the albino's complexion from the damages the sunlight could bring to him if he wasn't attentive enough.

— « What do you mean, with 'miracle'? » Yet he questioned, puzzled expression covering his features as he rose a brow, eyes moving again to meet the priest's.

[jojoisthenewblack-blog]

  Her lips parted slightly in curiosity, and her performance ceased momentary, as she thought. She had paused, mulling over his request. Dance? Weather was a quiet, reserved man who spoke in hushes. And paradoxically, for someone had little concept of the words of “personal space,” he never had much to share.

“Why not?” she finally answered, taking his hand in hers. They were weathered, worn down by years of something. Something told her that those questions would never be sated. After all, she’d rather dance than make small talk.

The sounds of rain drops pattering against the ground replaced the need for a melodious jingle. Instead of a lush, hardwood flooring, the stale, lifeless cement ground made do. “Let’s dance,” she said, guiding his other hand to her waist.

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— His hands were the ones of a man who sinned, and was forced to pay for his sin. His hands were the ones of a man who couldn't remember what his sin was --and yet he was there, within walls so high and difficult to just leap over and leave behind, paying for what he committed, no matter if he had memories of such an event.

— And those hands, yet, despite the callousness and the scars maiming them, were delicate while caressing the thin frame of the Cujoh girl --one tapping a melody lost in his feeble memory against the line of her hips, the other entwining themselves with the tinier one, the typical starting position of a waltz being the result of that bizarre union.

— « Thank you, Jolyne. » Uttering, he made the first step --almost as if he already knew how to dance, how to lead the entire choreography, the same melody he tapped on the girl's figure being hummed lightly by pale, ruined lips.

[hawkofthemonth]

look! irrefutable proof that i suck at light sources.

[14phrases-blog]

  "Is that so?" For the barest of seconds, there was a slight twitch in his lips, a nigh visible smugly smirk. Immediately, he returned to his unreadable, stoic expression. "That’s a shame."

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— He noticed that smirk. Yet, he couldn't help but associate such a thing to the fact that the other was purposely --or not-- keeping his face partially hidden by the shadows of the cellar, making the whole understanding his expressions completely useless.

— « A shame indeed. » He murmured, icy hues looking away. « Sometimes I wonder if, one day, I will manage to actually get my memories back. . . or if they're gone forever. »

[alimente-sua-fe]

[allcursed-deactivated20180530]

Candle.

[14phrases-blog]

  "Your condition. I care for all the inmates in this facility. I’m interested in hearing if you’ve… recalled anything."

[forgottenforecast]

{ ☁ }— He remained silent for a second, his body shifting to a more comfortable sitting position, icy hues still looking at the priest's dark ones.

— « No. I still do not recall anything of my past, and the events of my life before ending up here. »