#suntrailed

As ever, Erina was struck by just how lucky she was to have met Jonathan, who was as lovely as a man--any human, in fact--could ever be. That he would consider her a friend of his, that he would also treasure the time they spend together just as she did... She didn’t stop the smile from appearing on her face as she approached him from behind, careful to keep her steps as quiet as possible in the intent to catch him by surprise.

It was with heavy footsteps that he approached the gravestone with the Joestar name engraved on it. Another year had passed by and everything after that day still felt so unreal. Something was missing, and forever would be. It was a thought that haunted him ever since that fateful day when he learned about his dear friend’s passing. The pain was still as suffocating as then, when he finished reading that letter informing him of the incident on the ship Jonathan and his wife had been traveling on and the horrible outcome. The white sheet slipping through his fingers as he stared in shock and horror at the table, hot tears streaming down his face, a hand tightly pressed against his lips, a sob caught in his throat. Even to this day, there were times when he could just not wrap his head around the idea of Jonathan being gone forever, feeling like everything had been nothing but a bad dream, feeling like he could still go out and find him somewhere and see that bright smile that had brought so much hope to him, to a man with no future, a man who would have remained in the darkness had it not been for the heir of the Joestar family. He owed him so much regardless of the little time they had had to enjoy each other’s company.

That suffocating feeling he remembered so clear was back again as he stood before the gravestone. Jonathan’s gravestone. An empty grave, that’s what it was, as Jonathan’s body had never been recovered from the ocean. A gravestone, the only thing “left” of the man who had given so much to him in so little time. His heart was heavy with grief and his jaw clenched tight as he struggled to keep himself from tightening his grip around the bouquet of different flowers he’d brought with him for his dear friend as those thoughts crossed his mind.

Life could be so unfair sometimes...

Speedwagon was trying hard to fight back the tears that threatened to form in his eyes and, oh, so hard it was. He remained silent for a long minute, unable to bring himself to speak meanwhile.

“Mister, Joestar, I’m… sorry for coming here turned into such a mess already.” He began and took his hat off; a faint and sad smile formed on his lips, but it didn’t last long. “It’s just… it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how much time goes by. I’ve missed you greatly. There hasn’t been a single day you’re not in my mind. I know how crazy that probably sounds with the little time we had of knowing each other but… you made such a big impact in my life. I just… wish I could have had the chance to tell you that personally, to let you know just how important you became to me in such a small frame of time. I really wish I could have had more time to be by your side, like I promised I would, to repay you for all the kindness you showed to a low life like myself, even after our rocky start and what I tried to do to you back then. I don’t think I ever told you enough how sorry I was, and still am, about that. Fate has some really twisted ways sometimes. It gives just as much as it takes. You became a light in my path, and I wish I could have told you just how grateful I am for everything you did for me. Perhaps you didn’t perceive it that way, but it truly meant the world to me...” He paused; head lowered as one hand went to cover his mouth once again, holding back a sob. He remained like that for a solid minute before he could speak again; watery eyes falling on the gravestone one more time.

“I’ve always been a fool. Always thinking I had all the time in the world. You know… I keep wondering just how things would have been had we met under different circumstances, had we had more time to spend together, had I had the fortune to have you come into my life much sooner. I guess it’s a bit useless to think about all those things now, but I can’t help it sometimes. Guess I really am a daydreamer, like Tattoo sometimes says I am.” He let out a soft huff that vaguely resembled a laugh. Ironic, as tears finally won the battle and started to fall down his cheeks. “I really wish I could have done much more for you when you were here, to show you all my gratitude, to be the friend you deserved.” He added in a much more serious tone, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, drying some of those tears and went on. “But… I’ve made a resolution. Did it long ago, actually, right after I learned about your passing. I might not be able to assist you and be there for you like I promised, but I have been, and always will be, there for Miss Erina and little George. I don’t intend to take your place, and I know that Miss Erina probably doesn’t need my assistance, but I’ll make sure they have everything they need and much more. Always. It’s the least I can do after everything I owe to you.” He provided, another smile stretching his lips, a visibly brighter one this time but that faded away shortly after. He took a step forward and bent down on one knee. Lilies, chrysanthemums, and a single dark crimson rose surrounded by the brightest Forget-me-nots Robert could find, all of them arranged neatly in a bouquet that he placed carefully on Jonathan’s gravestone. He remained like that for a moment.

“These are for you, my friend. You have no idea how much I miss you… How much I wish you were here to see your son grow up, to be with Miss Erina and all your friends. To live the life a gentleman like you deserved and got robbed of...” He lightly pressed his fingertips against the cold marble of the headstone, right next to Jonathan’s name.

          Her own expression BRIGHTENS as soon as his does, what was formerly a SMIRK ( her DEFAULT EXPRESSION, not a real sign of SMUGNESS in this case ) turning to a GRIN. She doesn’t have ALL DAY to help others with their PROBLEMS; the SOONER they get through this, the BETTER, in her book. 

It was a nice day, so Yoshikage had decided to walk from the train station to the shrine. His latest target had been a particularly difficult person – someone so paranoid that they refused to respond to any call, any knock, any sound at all. What in the world had they even done? It had to be something that haunted them, to cause such behavior – and it had to be something awful to cause the monk to request an execution. Probably murder. Perhaps something even worse?

Whatever it was it had come to pass. Even a hermit had to eat sometime, so Yoshikage waited for them to order food, and pretended to be the deliveryman to come inside. An invitation based on deceit was still an invitation, after all. From there, all he had to do was find something to kill the hermit with. A boxcutter did well – just a quick severing of a major artery. Messy, effective.

Perhaps he hadn’t even needed to step in, though. It seemed there was a confession letter drafted on the computer, or something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry’. In this case, he was just assurance.

But was a guilty person really all that horrible a person? The ghost brought his gloved hand to his chin, tapping his pointed finger against his chin thoughtfully while he crossed the street – the only person crossing, though he went unseen by the people in the cars (they must be irritated, but this was far safer and more polite than walking through a moving vehicle. What if the chill caused by his presence caused an accident? What if he incidentally ran into something living and was torn apart? It would be difficult to gather his body parts back together after that. This minor inconvenience to drivers was so much better). Surely, there were worse kinds of people. People who had no remorse over a murder, over harming another person. Perhaps he could be categorized into that – he felt nothing over taking the lives of his targets, though that matter was a bit more complicated. He was being paid, and somebody else did the judgment, he only carried the execution out. Was this the moral quandary of an executioner, sanctioned by the court?

Oh dear. He stopped short, mid-step, in a way that would be rather uncomfortable for a living person. A pair of children – darted out from an alley and across the street he had just come from, and he’d nearly walked into them. That was reckless, for both parties. He had been thinking too hard, and they shouldn’t try to cross with only a few seconds on the timer!

Just as he was about to walk forward again, another person emerged from the alleyway – this time quite different. This person was older – a young adult, perhaps – but more than that. This person was like Yoshikage. He could tell, though the man lacked any wounds denoting how he died. There was just a particular sense about another ghost, something about how they felt realer than living people, as though their presence was more solid. If only just because they existed in this same strange state of survival.

Send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on【always accepting】@suntrailed

I just wrote an answer covering most of the origins of the SPW here but I’ll add some more info.

The SPW, as stated in the other post, was created out of Speedwagon’s wish to spare others from some of the things he had to go through and witness too throughout his life, in an attempt to make the world a less hostile place and a better one overall.

It started as a small project, something he wasn’t even sure would work, but he didn’t let that hold him back and just went ahead with this idea. The worst that could happen would be the loss of a few thousands of dollars if it didn’t work (an amount of money that’s minuscule compared to the income from his oil businesses, really, so it wouldn’t be a significantly big loss in the end). Luckily, it was rather successful since it’s early days and, even though it took a while for it to happen, it became self-sustaining much sooner than expected.

By this point he still kept most of his contacts from his Ogre Street days. Robert can be a rather stubborn man when he wants to, especially when it comes to achieving a goal. Ever since he got out of his old ways, he made the resolution of bringing his old friends -yes, Tattoo and Kenpo Master- out of it as well and give them a spot in his oil company. Neither of them were too much into it, mostly because they had no idea what they would do there, so both turned down the offer. When the SPW was being created, Speedwagon made sure to reach both of them again, offering them jobs there so that they could finally get out of that shady place. Much to his surprise, both seemed quite interested and immediately joined him, becoming some of the very first employees of the SPW. Their roles, as requested by them, weren’t too high ranked, though, as they were still getting used to the change of life and getting the hang on things and remained that way until they felt they had (and actually had) earned a bigger spot there.

SOUNDS LIKE A PRETTY DECENT DAY MINUS THE SICK PART :-)!!! HOPE SIMS WAS FUN

[[asljfas