#weeabotrash

I FUCKING PAINTED #Dio

I HAND PAINTED LORD FUCKING DIO.

Lurking the Streets of Cairo is an interesting man, but his so called interest lies in you and the portraits you paint.

(Warnings: uh none, I'm too lazy to proofread deal with it)

Another day and nothing. Not even a single tourist would give you the time of day- or even night for that matter. Now the sun had long set and a full moon and subtle street lights were the only luminescence casting a faint glow on the cobble stone path below your feet. It was disheartening to say he least. Ever since your parents had past, the only way to get by or at least make a living in the city you found yourself glued to... was by selling your art, painted pottery and canvases.

Although, for most of the tourist that came to the luxury that was Cairo, their interests fall into jewelry and tapestries.

Some of your paintings where of the locals, wildlife, or scenery. Locals would praise you; "you're an amazing artisan!" "A gift has been granted to you dear!" "This is breath taking!" And of course your heart couldn't bring yourself to charge the people you knew in the town you lived all you life (stuck) in.. so you would let them have it, barter,or make them pay 1/3rd the price.

"Makes me wonder why I even try..." you mumbled loading up another canvas into your small caravan. Another day and nothing, not even enough for a loaf of bread. You stared blankly at the 2 egyptian pounds sitting inside your change box.

In the shadows his amber orbs glistened.

He watched your routine for a while now. 2 weeks , to be precise... at first he wanted nothing but a quick meal, and you were a perfect target. Alone at 11 o clock at night, in an empty market place that by this time was completely abandoned. He caught you painting that night. As you stepped away from your creation he felt an odd feeling wash over him. A peak, an interest, a desire. A desire to see more of what you may create. The beauty that was the texture, the blending... and it wasn't even the foreground but a beautiful gradient background...for what. Dio must know.

Soon enough Dio made you and your art gallery one of his normal stops while he casually strolled the quiet streets of the Egyptian city. He wondered how you got by most of the time selling such works, not that he would care.. you were another human the only difference is that you seemed to be more fluent in how you were able to depict images on to a surface, atleast deep down that's what he told himself. It brought him to the memories of when he himself lived in a similar type of poverty over a century ago.

You felt a cold chill brush over your shoulder and instantly the hairs of neck stand up.

"Alone at such an hour.."

"Eek!" You jumped dropping the small pot you were carrying. The pieces shattered, small bits of clay spreading everywhere.

Dio chuckled deeply walking out from the shadows. " now, now, that is not a proper way to greet a customer" his voice rang through your ears, sultry and smooth. You reluctantly turn you heard over your shoulde to see a man. A man who is atleast a foot taller than you, blonde hair that seemed to dery gravity and His eyes could've been shining as they stared down at your small form.

"Y-you want to buy my- my art?" You stumble over your words in disbelief as you pick up the pieces of clay pot that had fallen to pieces.

The man's chuckled was deep... almost belittling at the very sound.

"You have talent, do you not?"

You furrowed your brow in question, was this some sort of test?

"Uh.. I mean I guess.. I'm sorry I usually don't get a lot of customers-"

"How shameful must that be," Dios eyes found the painting..the one that had caught his eye the moment he was about to drain her of all her essence. A subtle portrait of a woman, surprisingly much resembling his mother.

".. that people haven't an eye for your talents" he muttered, impolite pushing his way past your dumbstruck form.

Dio reached out, letting the dark nail of his index finger trace the frame of the decently sized canvas. He felt a warm within his very being, by just looking at the portrait of the woman.

You were speechless. One because was kind of rude and two.. This man, this attractive man, was actually admiring your art! Sweat, a nervous sweat broke on your forehead as he leaned closely. You have no idea, did he like it? Why is he so close? He's not going to grab and run i hope!!!

These thoughts were soon trampled by the man's form looming over your own. You flinched and held in any noise that could've been made.

"You talents are wasted on tasteless buffoons my lady, remember that" his eyes drifted from you to the painting.

"But.. all I have is this city" you said softly in your defense. That amused him, a mere human speaking politely back at him..

Dio scoffed, " You waste the talent you're gifted, I know a place my dear.. where your art can be viewed by the masses"

You felt the heat rush to your face. Could this man be your ticket out of this hellhole?! Suddenly a heavy weight dawned on you. Friends.. the locals.. and of course the money..

"Thankyou sir.. you see i have not the money to travel. I must stay, but one day I will leave Cairo" you were humble.. and Dio admired that.

It was an instant, but the money hit your hand. Then he was gone.. and so was the portrait of the woman. Your eyes wandered to the over exceeding amount of money on piyour hands, "HOLY SHI-"

That was rare. An extreme rarity at that. Dio usually tends not to pay attention nor spend money on the common wealth of this day and age. Though he had come from poverty, when he rules one day, and day forever turned night.. there will be no poverty. Only the followers of a world that is Dio.

He stared at the painting, how he did very much so wish for his mother. He closed the closet door of his chambers, sealing the portrait into it hidden place.