sheunravelsâ:
@oraintensifies
Was it a dream? A Stand?
Aside from the bizarre, almost tacky scenery, thereâs a chill in the air. Snowflakes melt on her bare shoulders.
She hadnât had an opportunity to view much of her fatherâs disc. Even if she were able, her goal hadnât been to invade his privacy (though she was curious as to the secrets he kept tucked away all her life while she ate leftovers in front of the television and snuck glances at the front door in hopes that it would open to reveal the person she longed to see). She had read the diary of the man called DIO, the memories Pucci had ruined her life to steal.
Sheâs going to kill Pucci. Itâs her destiny as a Joestar descendant, she now knows. Destiny aside, though, she really fucking wants to kill him.
She uses that anger to keep herself warm, to help her punch a hole through whatever this situation is. And then, perhaps she hallucinates: a broad-shouldered silhouette conjures memories of strong arms and an unquenchable longing.
âDad?â she calls out. She canât help herself. âWhat happened to you?â
Jotaro had to force himself to keep his breathing steady. It was times of absolute crises that keeping his calm was the most important. And as the hours ticked by, it was starting to seem like this was one of those occasions.Â
It was almost as if in the blink of an eye, he found himself not under the oppressive heat of the sun and surrounded by the luxurious mansions of Karachi, but in what looked like a touristy model European. Far away from the Middle East. Even farther away from Egypt. Even farther away from where they needed to be.Â
JiJi, Polnareff, Kakyoin... None of his travel companions were anywhere to be found. If this was a stand attack, it was a damn effective one. Hopefully it was, and he could find the secret to how it worked, or who the user was. An illusion produced by a stand, he could handle. It just took beating the bastard who conjured it to a bloody pulp. That bear, maybe? It was certainly weird enough to fit.Â
But none of the people he had confronted were able to give any helpful information at all. Riftlings, High Council, it completely different from the types of situations he had grown accustomed to. If this wasnât a stand attack... If there wasnât a straightforward way to get back...Â
Breathe. No use jumping to conclusions. He just had to map out the situation. Breathe. Think.Â
He didnât register the woman calling out to him, not at first. And why would he? She had called him âdadâ a title there was no way in hell he could carry. But she persists, and even plants herself right in his field of vision. Yep, sheâs looking at him, talking to him as if heâs supposed to know who the hell she is.Â
â... What. You need something?â He says curtly, ready to turn tail and leave the second she starts yammering about stupid nonsense. But thereâs always the chance she could be the enemy heâs looking for. Certainly dressed weirdly enough to fit the bill. (Seriously, who wears shit like that in the winter?)
