#miiscreants

[thwipd]

@miiscreants liked for a starter from Kakyoin Noriaki for Jean-Pierre Polnareff

After what seemed like the final Emerald Splash back in Egypt, the redhead teenager from Japan who proved to be a valuable member for the Stardust Crusaders just after a few days since he came across Jotaro and Joseph has somehow managed to survive the devastating blow from Dio. It did leave him in coma for a few months but nonetheless, under the care and treatment of Speedwagon foundation he seemed to have healed up rather completely apart from a deep scar on his chest which was a reminder to the legendary and one of the most devastating battles in his life.

Apparently, similar to Avdol's case back in India, Polnareff was sadly kept in the dark again regarding Kakyoin's survival and recovery till after a few moths have passed since he finally regained consciousness fro his coma when he decided to give Polnareff a visit in France. He needed to meet the friends he made in this bizarre adventure and he surely needed to test his proficiency with his stand too and in his mind there wasn't any other but the Frenchman himself.

Now standing at the doorway of the Frenchman's residence in his iconic emerald green uniform, Kakyoin rung the doorbell in hopes for a response.

[vialaviolenza]

@miiscreants continued from here.

❝ ⸻Either that or a stand. ❞ Jotaro can only watch as Polnareff jumps at the mention of a specter. ❝ If stands are real, likely, spirits are as well, Polnarefff. So, No. I won't be saying 'sike'. ❞ A breath leaves him as he shakes his head, a he takes a few steps forward to the corner he sees a misty figure disappear down. Back is planted against the wall as he cautiously looks around the corner to find. . .Nothing, the anticipation closure allowing him to sigh as he looks back to the other. ❝ Whatever it was, I'm certain it's not gone. We should find it. . .If it's a stand user, we should try to ambush it before it tries to split us up. ❞

[vialaviolenza]

@miiscreants continued from here.

Per request she steps into the room, a cloth-gloved hand pulling the door shut behind her. Amber eyes behind large sunglasses overlook the room, drifting side to side to drink in the surroundings as she steps further into the room, finding a seat across from him. Lips purse as she straightens her skirt, clearing her throat before she begins.

❝ Grazie. . .I'll make this quick since you have plans. First⸻can I smoke in here ? ❞ Already there is an itching desire for nicotine as a leg shifts to rest over the other so that she may settle into place. ❝ My name is Donatella. I am the boss of Violenza and I've come to hire La Squadra for personal reasons. The payout is forty thousand euros. Twenty thousand to assure this job stays between us, the other twenty for the job itself. Should you be successful, I'll consider you for other work. ❞ A brow lifts from behind the sunglasses as she studies Risotto with a curious gaze, her head tilting as she awaits his response. ❝ If that's enticing enough, I can go into further detail. ❞

[redlineoffate]

@miiscreants

“Speedwagon Foundation? I think I heard something about it. They are involved in charity and medicine, right? What is your connection with this organization, Polnareff-san? Why do we need to contact them?”

[forfamily]

❛  you look like you could use a hand with that.  ❜ // to bibi from risotto :)

Despite years of using the power, it's an odd sensation- she hears the soft tinkling of Risotto's bells far before she sees him. While the entirety of Plazzo Gloria is her domain, the large kitchen is one of Bianca's favorite rooms among the hundred rooms. Bright and airy, the kitchen holds an Old World charm despite the very modern appliances that are in use. She's barefoot, her grandmother's white apron tied around her tiny waist. She's on her tippy toes, attempting to reach a bag of flour high up on a shelf among sugars and other baking ingredients. She has a small stool; she's just being stubborn. She huffs at the sound of his voice, blowing a lock of dark hair out of her face; the rest of her hair is piled up in a messy bun on her head. "...Thank you, that would be appreciated." She moves out of his way before smiling at him. It's not far into their acquaintance and Bianca had agreed to give him time to decide on his course of action- stay as he has always been with Passione or change with Zeppeli.

[determinazionearch]

there was no way around it : giorno had purposefully cultivated difficult circumstances for the subject before him, virtually dependent on his approval and protection. beyond the most basic empathy one could have for another human, giorno’s concerns were not with @miiscreants’s well-being. protection from harm, an instinctual, visceral desire, was but a bargaining chip in giorno’s eyes. however, it might not be enough. threats and torture were fruitless. ghiaccio had proven his endurance and resolve was too strong for either. persuasion was an art crafted by wit and charm —- and as giorno considered his options, perhaps it would be best to compromise. in spite of his indifference, his tone remained neutral, respectful. condescending behavior was unnecessary.

“ ... what is it you wish to know? ”

[rahbid]

TARGET   :    GHIACCIO. LOCATION   :   @miiscreants​​​​ ASSIGNMENT   :   otherwise prompted. ENCRYPTED   :   “ have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state? ”

       a purr - like hum thrums in her throat as she regards him with a strange sort of warmth. she doesn’t smile - simply looks upon him with eyes much softer than their usual neutral gaze. she’d heard them - the others, with their cruel remarks about his darling nose. how loathsome. wordlessly, she takes his face in her gloved hands, pauses only to trace his handsome features with her icy gaze. lips perk into the ghost of a smile before she kisses his nose.

      ❝   not at all,   ❞   hands fall slack. she stands up straight, turns to go.   ❝  i just wanted you to know your nose is very handsome.  ❞

[forfamily]

The 18th-century palazzo rose up on the cliffside, lions guarding the massive front doors, staring blankly out to sea and over land. Part rock, part marble, the structure was several stories high and it was whispered the great halls held secrets and the passageways could empty into the seas should there be need. The ceilings were high, vaulted, with impressive domes and arches. The floors were marble tiles, large blocks, smooth beneath feet. Sculptures and artwork were everywhere, the antiques having a clear feminine touch.

Doors and window shutters stood open, letting in both sunlight and the sea breeze, ruffling billowing white curtains. A tall masculine figure stood in the office, facing one of the archways that opened to a long balcony that overlooked the sea; one hand was shoved in his trouser pocket, the other holding a phone to his ear. His brunette hair was neat, short, stubble dusting a sharp jawline- despite his Italian blood, his eyes were a rich forest green.

"SÌ, mandali dentro." Dean Zeppeli murmured into the phone before hanging up, sliding the device into a pocket inside his jacket as he turned to face the woman sitting behind the antique desk. "They've arrived, Baronessa."

The woman sitting behind the desk looked up from the paperwork she was reading over. Her hair was a black silk waterfall down her back, long-lashed eyes the color of whisky, holding shadows and secrets. "Very good. Now, the game begins."

@miiscreants