through the eyes of god.

JZIVMSOXKGEIKFY LOVE ME !!!!!!!!

     —- @angiomas.

         it had been years since he’d seen these streets, having been chased out with his mother did not leave him eager to return. hands rest as his side, one leaning against the sword hidden beneath his coat. it made him uneasy, one glance that rested on him a moment too long would expose him for all that he was and all that he wasn’t. how easily these people had driven them away after his mother had devoted her work to them. she would have never left simply because her life was at risk. it had been her fear for little adrian, getting snatched up by the humans that hid in the shadows, cruel and unforgiving by nature. lisa had held him close against her chest, hiding his golden eyes and pointed ears. she carried their small, but heavy, bag of belongings on her back and walked to the next town over ( and the town after that and the one after that too. no matter how far they went, the same accusations persisted. ) 

         there had been one good thing about this city, however, a young boy just as ostricised as he was. he had accepted the two of them easily, perhaps at first simply because adrian’s mother treated and cared for the boy’s family as much as she could. whatever had allowed him to accept the inhumanity of fangs and translucent skin, adrian was thankful. but they were children and no matter what bond they held, it meant nothing to the masses that cried witch. he wondered if that boy was still here, how he must look now, what kind of life he must live. did he study? adrian could see him as a scholar. perhaps he was working, what kind of job would he enjoy? he was strong but labour work didn’t suit him. 

        it was then, that he recognised those same features that had preoccupied his mind. was it by the grace of god? or perhaps he should consider it misfortune, dio had grown up, he could turn him away, understanding now that he was borne of something far more sinister that he was first lead to believe.

       dio, after leaving that town, did not once think about it’s inhabits. his mind never wandered and knocked upon the door of the devil’s home. he never spared a thought about the people he had once knew. he had abandoned the walls of his home and the graveyard where his mother slept. no goodness came from those horrid memories that still latched on tightly, claws digging into his skin. just tears, frightful nightmares, and the empty feeling within his chest that he could not fill. perhaps there once had been something nice. he could vaguely remember a warm feeling in his chest when he thought about it, but every time he would attempt to reach out and grab it, it would to turn to smoke.

        he focused so passionately about the future, about his wealth and his gain, he had never took a second to look back again. his studies occupied him along with several ‘friends’ that he dragged along for entertainment. through to this point, where he stood in the streets of captured town, he did not care to look back. 

        yet, it seemed his past continued to trail behind him. the more he ignored it the stronger the presence, leaving him to face memories that he was not strong enough to fight. he was not strong enough, he was never strong enough to face dario. in life and in death. it haunted him... he haunted him.

        sombre thoughts were interrupted when he had felt the presence of another. not some feeble human nor one of the zombies he had created and let loose. no, there was a different aura. dio slowly raised his heavy gaze from the table, red eyes examining the darkness that consumed the bar. he had forgotten he had been in here, he had forgotten why he came. all he knew is that his wits were not about him, lost somewhere in the fog of his memory.

❝ much like my father, yes? ❞ yukako blatantly remarked to dio, lowering her hand once the thin napkin in her grip was taken(quite roughly, if she may say) from her, and was instead used to dry the spoon by leaving the two objects on the table and leaving them to dry on their own. ❝ i refuse to believe someone as strong, loyal and passionate as you say my father was died by some sort of unfairity. ❞

it was quite questionable, how vague(though elaborate enough, it seemed) he was being towards her. she wasn’t by any means denying the presumably short lived relationship between her father and him —— what she may be denying was his death, something she truly didn’t know the specifics of.

yukako could sense that this was starting to become a game for him. or perhap, it always was. whether or not that aforesaid sense was the truth or not, she will speak on it. ❝ the world seemed to have waved a white flag of submission for me, then. ❞

❝ what was my fathers stand? ❞

       curiosity killed the cat, but it seemed the child was not aware of this. those who pried in business that were not part of their affairs were usually met with sharp words or a sharper dagger. yet, his features did not twist with annoyance nor did his lips grimace with disgust-- the absolute disrespect the girl was showing to him, her elder, her superior. instead he merely shrugged a neutral look ‘pon his sculpted features.

         “the world is deceiving my dear, you shouldn’t place your heart so wilfully on your sleeve when you have barely had the chance to mature into your fate--” a warning, or perhaps, a threat. he knew fate, he knew the tar-like hands that clasped onto you. it held tightly with such force that it would squeeze the life and hope out of your soul. he did not speak of things he did not know.