[So most people, when they first arrive, wash up somewhere on the beach, either waking up in the water itself or some distance away from it. The locals have long recognised this, and so frequently a newcomer will find themselves in the vicinity of a gun-toting human hoping to thin the oncoming wave of monsters. Older monsters will also frequently scout the beaches for these newcomers to help them avoid or fight off the locals to save them from the first of what often becomes many untimely deaths.
Dio Brando is not so lucky.
No, Dio doesn't even wake up in the vicinity of the beach at all. He's still a little damp, and he definitely feels really grainy, but it's far too dark to be the beach, even at night.
Also, he can't breathe.
That's the first thing he realises, really; the darkness comes later, after his first inhale of breath being met with dirt, and his eyes grind against the same thing when he tries to make sense of his surroundings. His arms immediately spring forward, reaching up as high as his muscles allow against the cold soil covering him, and when his fingers reach an open space, he scrambles to pull himself upright.
A heap of loose dirt falls forward as Dio emerges from a shallow unmarked grave. He coughs profusely, lungs and eyes equally burning as thick saliva and reflexive tears pour down his face. Dizziness folds his body in waves while his brain recovers from its lack of oxygen. Where is he? What is this? What happened to him?
He's still half-covered in dirt, his knees only barely poking out from the ground. The last thing he remembers is trying to dispose of Jonathan's stupid mutt, and then... What then? Was he caught?
Is anyone here?]
[FOUR: MANTICORE]
[Dio has acquired a fondness for 'perching'.
He sits above the grand archway to Castle Lager, his sectioned scorpion tail swaying rhythmically within its frame as he watches the moon rise above the rest of the peninsula. The land surrounding the castle has been consistently quiet and peaceful, away from prying eyes and those who would seek to have him... pay for future crimes. He can perhaps tolerate it in the daytime, but at night he would prefer to simply rest as he sees fit. As such, he frequents the outer perimeter of the manor, slinking into a window to retire when he's had his draught of moonlight.
Now is not time to sleep yet, however, gazing sharply upon the bridge below him as his tail counts the passing seconds. His wings remain half-spread, and he is still enough to appear as a decorative fixture upon the archway if not for the scorpion stinger taunting the entrance to Castle Lager.
His feline ears perk at a sound. Someone approaches. His eyes narrow.]
Halt, [he calls out.] Who draws near Castle Lager at this hour?
Dio Brando | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
[So most people, when they first arrive, wash up somewhere on the beach, either waking up in the water itself or some distance away from it. The locals have long recognised this, and so frequently a newcomer will find themselves in the vicinity of a gun-toting human hoping to thin the oncoming wave of monsters. Older monsters will also frequently scout the beaches for these newcomers to help them avoid or fight off the locals to save them from the first of what often becomes many untimely deaths.
Dio Brando is not so lucky.
No, Dio doesn't even wake up in the vicinity of the beach at all. He's still a little damp, and he definitely feels really grainy, but it's far too dark to be the beach, even at night.
Also, he can't breathe.
That's the first thing he realises, really; the darkness comes later, after his first inhale of breath being met with dirt, and his eyes grind against the same thing when he tries to make sense of his surroundings. His arms immediately spring forward, reaching up as high as his muscles allow against the cold soil covering him, and when his fingers reach an open space, he scrambles to pull himself upright.
A heap of loose dirt falls forward as Dio emerges from a shallow unmarked grave. He coughs profusely, lungs and eyes equally burning as thick saliva and reflexive tears pour down his face. Dizziness folds his body in waves while his brain recovers from its lack of oxygen. Where is he? What is this? What happened to him?
He's still half-covered in dirt, his knees only barely poking out from the ground. The last thing he remembers is trying to dispose of Jonathan's stupid mutt, and then... What then? Was he caught?
Is anyone here?]
[FOUR: MANTICORE]
[Dio has acquired a fondness for 'perching'.
He sits above the grand archway to Castle Lager, his sectioned scorpion tail swaying rhythmically within its frame as he watches the moon rise above the rest of the peninsula. The land surrounding the castle has been consistently quiet and peaceful, away from prying eyes and those who would seek to have him... pay for future crimes. He can perhaps tolerate it in the daytime, but at night he would prefer to simply rest as he sees fit. As such, he frequents the outer perimeter of the manor, slinking into a window to retire when he's had his draught of moonlight.
Now is not time to sleep yet, however, gazing sharply upon the bridge below him as his tail counts the passing seconds. His wings remain half-spread, and he is still enough to appear as a decorative fixture upon the archway if not for the scorpion stinger taunting the entrance to Castle Lager.
His feline ears perk at a sound. Someone approaches. His eyes narrow.]
Halt, [he calls out.] Who draws near Castle Lager at this hour?