[X] Every Rose Has Its Thorn
You stand there, glaring at the degenerate before you as he grins, and all of a sudden you realize something.
No one is coming.
The police don't go to Ogre St.
Mickey, if he's smart, is sitting atop his perch on Prorsum Bridge with his pistol cocked and at the ready. He isn't going anywhere unless it's home.
Those denizens of this nightmare labyrinth who didn't run inside the moment a head parted ways with its shoulders have one of two expressions on their faces; the same broken boredom as before, or eagerness.
No one is coming.
You can feel Sebastian's blood soaking into your clothes.
Father is not coming.
You want desperately to vomit.
Dr Vaughan cannot do anything; if he could save you, he would have saved Sarah.
You are enraged.
Ladies do not ball their hands into fists, so it would be perhaps more appropriate to say your fingers decide to embrace your thumb. With a viciousness you hadn't known you possessed, you swing hard at the man's torso, expecting to be intercepted, but not caring. You have to try. You will not go down without a fight.
As your fist passes under your gaze, even in your anger you are shocked.
The hesitation derived from that shock most likely saves your assailant's life.
An array of inch-long blue thorns rams into his abdomen at less than top speed, drawing a lot of blood but not rupturing any organs.
He goes down, shrieking and wailing, and you have your chance.
You turn to grab Dio, just in time to hear the man who was talking with him say "Mary Mother of-" and see Dio open his throat with a knife. The third gang member raises his cavalry sword - he's the one who killed Sebastian comprises the entirety of your thought process before Dio swings behind him and stabs him between the ribs.
"You," the blond boy says disdainfully to the man whose belly you slashed up, pulling his knife back out of the sword-wielder. "Inform Mr Bianchi that as I have done him the favour of removing two incompetents from his ranks, I shall consider whatever 'debt' you have conjured from the aether to be repaid in full."
Wide-eyed, the man nods frantically, before struggling to his feet and limping off.
Dio watches him go, before looking to you, his expression softening for the first time in hours. "Are you hurt?" he asks.
You shake your head. "I'll go get Mickey," you say, eyes slightly unfocused. "We can't just leave Sebastian here."
"Jojo," Dio says, "Sebastian is dead. So might we be if we linger too long."
"You aren't the one who has to look Belle in the eye and tell her her brother is lying headless in a canal of piss," you reply quietly. You walk over to the place where his head is lying, and pick it up by the hair.
It's so small. A head without a neck is small. Part of you seems to find this fascinating.
Pulling out your handkerchief, you wipe the face clean, and wrap the head in the outermost layer of your skirts, as Judith did the head of Holofernes in the painting on your bedroom wall at home.
Mickey, much to your surprise, doesn't upbraid you for what happened. He merely asks that you wait in the carriage with locked doors while he and Dio take care of the rest.
There's a horrible thump when Sebastian's body is loaded onto the back of the carriage
You've had time to come out of shock now. Which trauma do you want to focus on first? (All of these are collaborative write-ins, to a greater or lesser extent; you pick the option you like, then say how you personally think Jojo would or should feel. Then, when one option wins, I'll pool everyone's thoughts into a cohesive whole.)
[X] A man you have known your entire life is dead. He fell on you as he died. You carried his severed head in your arms. How's that goin' for you?
[X] You are apparently possessed by some sort of rose-ghost that makes you capable of ripping holes in people, which may or may not bring such misfortune upon you and your family that any of the benefits that may be associated with it might not be worth it. How do you feel about that?
[X] Dio killed two men in cold blood right in front of you, while in full possession of his wits and without any mercy or hesitation. Thoughts?
