–––o calamity

indie sel. pri. jjba multimuse rp blog written by nym est. 7 dec 2020

[starfelledsky]

stares

[starfelledsky]

what do you mean I actually have to RP

[starfelledsky]

frmaggio​:

a frown quickly engulfed the shrunken man’s lips at risotto’s information, head reclining back on the clothed arm and a grunt of disapproval leaving him. he knew it wasn’t some sort of congratulatory reason that they “trusted” them to get the job done so efficiently. 

“ th’ fuck does it matter to polpo who and how many we send? ” he groused, uncaring that he was insulting a capo that way. he spoke freely with risotto and certainly he would be no stranger to formaggio’s unsavoury opinions on the matter. if there was anyone the assassin trusted, it was risotto after all.

“ we don’t tell ‘im how to do his fuckin’ job. ”

he reached over, as if grasping risotto’s thumb with his hand would soothe him, though it was formaggio who needed to calm down.

“ tell me ‘bout the job, riz. maybe it’s somet’ing i can handle quick an’ dirty. won’t need to involve anyone else then. ” with a bit of a wry smile and a joking tone, he added. “ y’know i’m too handsome to die on the job anyway. ”

Formaggio was hardly alone in his anger, though Risotto was not in any position to express his own distaste for the manner in which his team was treated. "... We follow the orders we are given, Formaggio.” he replied, “regardless of how questionable they are.”

The many months of increasingly dangerous jobs had made it more than conspicuous that there were people in Passione attempting to rid of themselves the Squadra di Esecuzione. As to whom it was, Risotto could not say. He was certain that they were exceedingly powerful--second, perhaps, to the Boss, if not the Boss himself. However, he would not voice his suspicions.

When Formaggio’s small hands took hold of his thumb, Risotto clenched his fingers into a fist. “We are to assassinate a senator of Lazio,” he divulged finally, “whilst he is having his biannual dinner with his principal fund-raisers and a particular lawmaker. We are not to harm the lawmaker--this assassination is to send a message that Passione is aware of the laws that she is attempting to push through the Senate.”

Attempting such an job was tricky enough, with the high-profile nature of their target--but attempting it in public, while keeping it utterly untraceable as was the trademark of his squad... it would be exceedingly difficult to carry this out alone.

[starfelledsky]

xgodlike​:

    he’d not bother to pretend to have recollection of the name that is hushed. no semblance of acknowledgement, shown in his features. in his journey across the globe, the vampire had met people from all around—their faces & names, often forgotten due to their insignificance. it was the same with the women he bedded. there was no connection whatsoever to make one stand out more than the other, & so when prompted to remember, he only smiled. “—forgive me for not knowing who your mother is. however, it doesn’t matter. i believe you when you say you’re my son.”

    if it wasn’t for how similar they appeared—although the vampire didn’t show yet,  he’d have been able to tell by the gravity that drew them together. this strange feeling, as if the star-shaped birthmark on his back was burning from underneath his flesh. it wasn’t something easy to ignore. it was that way how he was found, was it not? by a ‘feeling’ that went beyond a hunch. a call of blood.

    from within the darkness, he stares. his gaze, fixated on the other while he lurked with each step, taking him closer. just about half of his face was revealed by the dim light of the room. his voice resonates through the hardly decorated room in which he rested; deep & low. not once did he lose the amusement in his tone. “were you looking for long?”

Giorno should have expected that a man who had, for the most part, been unaware of the existence of his son, would not have remembered the names of the women that he had bedded. He was no stranger to such men, but the knowledge that his own father had essentially met his mother merely as a one-night stand left him rather ambivalent. He didn’t quite know how he felt about this. Was it disappointment? Was it acceptance? Was it a sick form of amusement that he really was just another hapless bastard as his peers had once described him?

Regardless of his racing thoughts, his father smiled at him, seemingly not displeased that Giorno had found him.

"That would depend on what you would constitute as ‘long’,” Giorno replied carefully. “I would considered a year as ‘long’, and a month as ‘short’.” He paused, adding, “If you were asking as to how long it took for me to find you... It took many months.”

[starfelledsky]

frmaggio​:

“ don’t get used t’ it, boss. ” came the gruff, yet not unfriendly reply. stifling a yawn behind his hand, the half-dressed assassin padded towards him. truthfully, he didn’t get much sleep at all, which was very unusual for the man that liked the sleep the morning and much of the afternoon away.

when he was at risotto’s table, he shrunk himself down so he didn’t have to split his attention between the screen and him, dragging himself over to where the other man’s arm lay and using it to rest against.

“ any new hits from th’ top or are we outta work again? ”

He would expect nothing less from Formaggio, who seemed to make it his life’s mission to remain as indolent as possible when he was not on a job. The faint curl of amusement that his words inspired would have lifted the corners of Risotto’s lips had his following question not immediately flattened them.

“--We have a new job.” Risotto replied, settling his arm more comfortably upon the table as Formaggio lay against it. He glanced down at his subordinate. “And Polpo is most insistent that we send a single man out for this job.”

It seemed that now, more than ever, that the upper echelons of Passione were determined to stamp out their group. Assigning them jobs with ever-higher risks and odds, as if offended that his team had been capable of surviving even the most outrageously dangerous of jobs.

[starfelledsky]

xgodlike​:

    what was left of the mansion—a place of sanctuary to those that inhabited, was but a pitiful image of what it once used to be. even as the years had passed, signs of a battle fought & lost remained within those walls. some of them, still standing despite the crevices that could be found in them, just like the man who inhabited the third floor, deprived of any sunlight. the wounds that were endured then were visibly gone, but those to his pride & ego remained. whatever peace he still had, disturbed by the raiding of a place that some would label their home, but never him. the intruder, none other than a boy crafted in his image. the sensation that came along with him, one that was all too familiar.

      terence d’arby was dismissed. a single hand being waved, once his unexpected guest requested to meet him in person. a boy claiming to be his offspring & proving so with a photograph of the man now sitting in the shadows. everything but his face revealed before the other & eyes as cold & sharp, gleaming in the darkness.

    “—giorno giovanna, you said?“

Giorno stood there in the arid streets of Cairo as dusk fell upon the bustling city, teeming with life and loudness in a language of which he knew naught. His father would be found within this mansion, he had heard, and he would finally come face to face with the countenance of a man he had always come to think of as a mystery. His fingers trembled, and he hid them within his pockets, looking up at the dimly lit windows of the manor in thought.

How was it that anticipation could be so easily misconstrued for fear? 

The moments prior to this meeting had only augmented this sense of--strangeness, of the bizarre, surrounding his father. All was quiet. All was dark. Truly, the only light came from the door left ajar where his father was supposedly found and the old lantern held within the manservant’s hand as he was led through this home. Guided up the mansion’s winding and dark stairs by that stern man in white, he was finally left alone in the shadows with DIO, wherein he hesitantly introduced himself.

“Yes. I am Giorno Giovanna,” he said quietly in halting but practiced English. He could see naught of his father’s face, only the striking brightness of his hair and the breadth of his shoulders that had been so faithfully captured in still picture form. “Though you may know my mother’s name far better than my own.” It was here that Giorno uttered his mother’s name, attempting to catch a glimpse of recognition from the man.

[starfelledsky]

“... Formaggio." The greeting, though curt, was not wholly devoid of warmth as Risotto looked up from the desktop computer he had been working at. He glanced at the man swiftly from head to toe to ascertain his state, before he returned to look at the screen. “You’re up early today,” was added offhandedly.

@frmaggio​

[starfelledsky]

--Since he could remember, his mother had never once compared him with his father. It hadn’t been until much later, older and weary despite his twenty years, that she had finally beheld him and remarked softly that he looked so much like him. DIO. When pressed, his mother hadn’t been able to even tell him his father’s surname, nevertheless where he was, nor how to find him. Perhaps it was a fool’s task to even want to attempt such a thing, but Giorno had learnt in his time at Passione that family was, indeed, to be cherished.

And so, he had sent his men to Egypt to search for DIO, regardless of his own misgivings as to the wisdom of this task, guided solely by his gut and a childhood wish to meet the man that had begotten him. (And if they found him--would DIO even care? Surely he wouldn’t have known about Giorno’s existence. He might have had another family of his own, or died for all Giorno knew.)

Throughout those weeks, Giorno quietly anticipated word from his men detailing either their success--or their failure.

@xgodlike​

[starfelledsky]

can you fucking believe this shit