#esomerald

     INSTINCT to turn this idiot into a permanent fixture of the fountain he’s perched on the border of rams into excitement delight of who this must be! His hands close around Hierophant Green’s, not to move them, only for the sake of holding them no matter how sticky it might turn out.

⦑ One of these days I’m gonna clobber you and I’m not sure it’ll be an accident. You know I hate when you do that. ⦒

He scolds through his big, stupid grin. He’s missed them more than he thought he could handle. In a shady nook with a bubbling fountain, breeze bring them the fragrance of spring fauna, it’s like he knew right where to wait for them to come back.

it’s an improvement.

     WHAT’S that? Hierophant Green would like for him to come stink up the tub?

It's no use.

No matter how fast he flies through the packed vendors of the shopping district, he still feels like he's stuck on a motorbike moving too slowly through the sweltering streets of Cairo. Mr.Kakyoin is safe, back at the Cherry Checklist tending to his customers diligently as always. Then why is it that he feels as though he'll find his mangled corpse lodged in the side of a water tower?

Every blond that catches his eye spins the fear turned to rage to perilous heights. Every glance at the sky he expects to find it starless and being swallowed by the moon. Knocking in DIO’s skull again so he could think for a fucking second and understand what he's searching for won't work in the middle of the day. He has to break away, go to where no one bothers to hang around except for the weekends, lean heavily on one of the White Room doors. It's invitingly cool on his temple, like aloe gel on the raw agony of being a severed Stand. Disquieting silence where Jotaro’s inner works should be remains and still, there’s a sense of relief. The Star Card’s judgment may have prevailed regardless of his state of mind. He presses his audio receptor to the door, curious.