Asia Jota Ei Pitäisi Olla

(SLAM)

...

"Hi, Cha-"

"I've managed to further my research. Whilst finding more records, I came across a photograph of Dr. Cioccolata."

6. "I printed around 100 copies without hesitation, of course." 7. "..." 8. " I also have a lighter." (Flik). 9. "WHO GAVE YOU THAT?!" 10. "This may just be the closest I have EVER been to experiencing GENUINE HUMAN JOY. 11. "CHAR THIS IS DERANGED YOU'VE LOST YOUR MIND" 12. "That's an acceptable sacrifice!"

oh! Well this is a spreadsheet to keep track of my own fanstands (plus Ilta and atreyu) but if you guys want i can make one that others can submit their fanstands into!

...

It had been just a little slip-up a few days after receiving this mysterious note. He was prepping himself some coffee and, haphazardly, had spilled a few droplets of water while filling the pot to be brewed.

Curiously, he did a double-take. Something was different? Something hidden. A twist of fate, once more.

{Indeed, upon being doused, a message is revealed. Though faded and written with embellishments and a flourish, it is firmly comprehensible:

The choice you made, it's only right, The path for which you've had to fight.

I needn't hear to know the truth, That you are happy being you.

I see that you now have learnt, my little inscribed secret.

If you are curious about the source, Perhaps you will seek it.

In a building near the trees of which local rumours have spoken.

A lady serves the 'devil', it seems, Though I've certainly never met him.

I am what they long called a "witch", but I am nought but an old widow.

Many stories interest me. Yours is one of such.

I myself write a few or so stories but they may not mean nearly as much.

To a visitor, I've not much to offer. But enough tea for two or for three.

If you ever seek a pleasant exchange I will happily host a friendly face.

Invitingly, ~I.I.I~

"The Witch," Specchio repeated to himself in a mix of curiousity and disbelief. Sure, he'd heard rumors... and hell, he'd looked into them! One of his little interests in his spare time was reading horror stories from around the world, and he'd never neglect folklore from his hometown. Either this was an elaborate treat from someone who knew of his fixation, or this fateful encounter was even luckier than he'd imagined.

... though he wondered if potential witchcraft was worth getting this excited over after dealing with stand users for a good while now. Hell, maybe stand abilities even explained witchcraft!

Coming at this from a logical perspective was soon to give him pause. He stopped in the middle of his pacing, now carefully considering the context of the poem. After all, this witch wasn't the only one who unknowingly served a devil... could this be a lure for an act of revenge? After everything that happened in April 2001, it wouldn't shock him to consider that Diavolo still had loyalists... but if that was the case, why target him? He was barely a pawn in that uprising.

"Fine then," he uttered to himself, taking the mug of coffee he had brewed while sending a quick text to his team. May as well check this out if he was being personally invited - and quash any potential issues that could arise. Even if the words held kind intention, he couldn't help but remain wary of any encounter with someone potentially wielding a stand, much less the powers of the occult.

The houses that would be the neighbours of the 'witch' are all run-down and presumably vacant. After all, who would want to be neighbours with her, right? Well, that's assuming she didn't have something to do with their absences, but... come on, surely some of the rumours are just an exaggeration, right?

On the way—once he decides to finally set out, that is—nothing seems too suspicious (if he ignores a gaggle of nervous-looking children pointing in the direction of the house and whispering. They’re telling each other stories and scaring each other—or doing a dare of some kind, probably. Frankly, it'd be more questionable if there weren't idiot kids doing idiot kid things).

As the house starts to come into view, Specchio might pass a tall, lanky, arrogant-looking individual in a plaid button-up (which looks rather creatively patched-together, mirroring the stitched appearance of the wearer's own skin—it seems this stranger has suffered quite a few injuries).

The patchwork stranger looks Specchio up-and-down, then scoffs rudely and mutters:

“What is this, another investigator? Shameful. People will really waste their time on anything these days.”

The individual struts away, looking vexed (an overall disdainful personality on that one, it would seem), but Specchio could probably intercept to ask questions about these statements... if he felt the need.

Otherwise, a few more steps and the ‘witch’s’ house would come fully into view.

Specchio had taken a bus as far to the outskirts of the city as he could and hoofed it from there. Seeing things getting progressively more worn-down, overgrown, abandoned... it was surprisingly whimsical! Though, he did feel a sense of dread as well. Stories and rumors of what witches were capable of, or even enjoyed doing...

He made minimal glance at the children there, almost feeling as if he should chase them off. After all, if this witch was dangerous, he couldn't risk any of them getting hurt, or worse. As he considered this option, he'd pass the second stranger - almost feeling a chill at the sight of all of those stitches covering them, cloth and skin alike. His mind briefly flashed to tales like Frankenstein - could this be a servant of the witch? A former victim?

... He almost cursed himself for thinking that. After all, it didn't feel right comparing someone to a fantasy monster. Even so, he did wonder: I've seen stands that can take the form of other people, even stands that can break people apart while leaving them unharmed. Could they actually be acquainted with this witch...? Well, isn't like they're stopping me. "Relax," he huffed, "I'm only here to visit."

Whether that would assuage them or draw their attention, he didn't know. He was merely being true to his intentions - and this wasn't an investigation, not yet.

Now,

Seeing the house in-person is somewhat jarring.

The house itself emanates an aura of some sort, though it would be hard to call it a ‘bad’ aura.

The aura is simply…

Odd.

The building itself seems run-down and rather worn, with a smashed, boarded-up window on the nearer side of the house during the approach, ivy creeping up the walls, and all the shutters closed, obscuring what’s inside.

Despite this destitute look, there is also a vibrant, active garden framing the house. There's also a ring of flowers and a fence encircling what… might be a couple of gravestones? It's hard to see. The garden is lively and bright, wrapping around the front of the house, framing a worn stone pathway up to the house.

As the house is approached, another person comes into view, seemingly stocky—her hair is, perhaps, in a very textured perm; it doesn't quite appear to be an afro. Butterflies flutter around her. They seem to glow, but it must be a trick of the light.

She’s rather ardently tending the flowers out front. She seems entirely absorbed in the work, wiping sweat from her brow. Surely this isn’t the ‘witch’, right? She looks quite unintimidating.

Her head turns slightly as the house is approached, and she calls out in a sharp voice.

“Back already—?”

… but her voice immediately softens to a gentle, lilted, very… airy voice, for lack of a better word.

“—Oh! Pardon, so sorry, I thought you were... someone else. Are you here for a reason? I hate to say, but you might have the wrong address—I can’t imagine why, but the mistake seems to get made a lot; if you’re looking for the Palumbo household, it’s down the street back that way and on the left—”

She seems polite enough and certainly seems like no threat (what is she even doing here?), but, of course, this is definitely the right house. The same house spoken of in all those stories about devil-worship, and strange lights, and ghosts, and—in the more extreme, less ‘substantiated’ (if at all) children’s rumours—kidnapping or disappearances.

Rather than walking into a horror story, this felt more like a fairy tale... though, looks could be deceiving. Even with that hint of wariness, Specchio found himself mesmerized by the garden and overall regrowth around the dilapidated building. It felt mystical, right out of a storybook. Could it all just be illusion? Perhaps this witch was more of a mystic... or a hippie of sorts. Though, he couldn't decipher the smell of weed at this range.

As he stood a few feet away from her, he was observing the luminescent butterflies that seemed to swarm her. He figured there was no trickery with this - at least, not standard trickery, like sleight-of-hand. He was feeling more and more as if he was definitely coming into contact with another stand user.

"Ciao," he greeted to get her attention, noting how her shawl resembled a butterfly's wings. Definitely not just coincidence. "I don't believe I'm mistaken - I was given directions here by a note. One that changed when submerged with water?" He motioned vaguely, miming a dipping motion.

She pauses suddenly in her indignation.

“W—wait. Did you say you received a letter? With the secret ink, too? Goodness me, and you actually came all the way out here?”

She stands fully, turning to face him—in the process revealing a rather nasty red mark covering one of her eyes. The butterflies swarm about her, landing on her shoulders and head, losing their gleam. Something about her is… familiar, somehow. Not strikingly—but her features look somewhat reminiscent…

Her presence seems gentle and safe.

She’s also surprisingly tall. At least 183 cm (6’).

“Well, I was about to get a bit offended, but if you’re here for her… I guess it would be unbecoming of me to be rude to a guest! Regardless, I’m not a witch… nor am I one they call a witch! I’m just the gardener!”

She laughs gently and gestures towards the door.

“I hesitate to invite anyone on her behalf, but if the lady invited you, she must’ve done so for a reason… you’ll probably find her inside. If you’re lucky, she might even have some fresh pulla, it’s delicious!”

Her grin faltres slightly.

“Although, I do advise… well… maybe mind your words? I-I know she’s called a witch by half of the city, but it seems a bit unfair to be so harsh, no? Just for—well!”

She covers her mouth for a moment.

“My! Then again, I dare not speak too much! Don’t mind me! She’s probably expecting you.”