WHAT’S THIS? a little book amongst the items in his basket (SHEETS, MAKEUP, FLOWERS, AND BLEACH FOR CLEANUP LATER). Odd, Stefano thinks as he plucks it up between two fingers. He doesn’t need a new journal yet- someone must have dropped it in here by mistake. But, never a man to deny the allure of the word DEATH, the title draws his attention enough to investigate further. He’s still standing, static, basket on his hip, in the aisle as he flips open the little book.
DEATH NOTE RULES. 1. The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
His heartbeat quickens. His stomach drops into the pit of his guts with an anxious weight. Equal parts excited and apprehensive, he feels hot under his collar- sweaty, almost. This book is... nothing more than just that. It couldn’t be anything more. And yet something within Stefano feels so visible. Exposed. Dropped in his basket with his other tools of MURDER, this fictional book of death feels nearly like an accusation to him. A nod that says HERE, YOU COULD USE THIS with a cheshire grin. Could it be real? Who could know?
He senses movement in front of him as he stares at the page. His eye flickers upward. Stefano closes the book. (The truth is, he was already picturing the demon in his head even before he laid eyes upon it)
“This is no coincidence, is it?”
@ringonokami