If you act as god be prepared to answer to those who came before you. JJBA X SMR

Chapter 2

(For those unaware, a pounce is a term for a feminine man or a man who makes his living as a prostitute.)

Title: And they said you were the crooked kind.

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~Seven Years later; 1888;

This was the year when Jack the Ripper stalked the streets of London, murdering women in the dead of night, and holding the entire city in his thrall. However, he was nothing compared to the horror that the feud between Jojo and Dio would unleash upon the world. Though, over the course of those seven years, disappearances became more and more common, with officers only finding scraps of clothing or flesh left behind that overshadowed the beginning stages of the infamous serial killer.~

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The ponce tilted his head at the sound of heels clicking against cobblestone, turning so he could see the source of the sound, and he glimpsed emerald green. His lips curled up into a grin as he followed ‌the noble. Chances like this were always rare and needed to be taken the moment they appeared.

"Hello there, stranger," he watched the noble turn to face him, only to freeze. His eyes were a solid gold with pupils that resembled a snake's more than they did a human. Shaking his head, he flashed a smile despite his nerves. "Looking for a good time?"

"I suppose. What's the catch?"

"Oh, we can talk about that at my place."

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I don't like being quiet. I don't like being easy to swallow. Who does? I want you to be stuck remembering me. I want you to hear all my opinions. I'd rather be so bitter that you nearly choke when you first taste me. I'm not the kind of thing that can be watered down. So if you dive too deep, hoping to easily reach the bottom, then I'm sorry to say you'll drown.

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M/n is old.

He stopped knowing how old long ago, and the details didn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter because no one will inform him of those details. But the fact on its own is simple; he is old. Older than any who once labeled themselves as human should age. He knows it, but he also hates it as easily as he breathes. Should his humanity have stopped being his the moment he passed the oldest human's lifespan? Is humanity tied to age? Or is the concept tied to his morals and beliefs? What defines the human in a man or woman and what defines the alien of a beast?

M/n hasn't found the answers to any of that.

Now leaning back in the ponce's dining room chair, he keeps his eyes closed, breathing in and out slowly. He can't ignore the sounds of wet ripping and the pulling of flesh from bone. He remembers the first time eons ago where his stand; it had been so much smaller back then, had craved and led him down a very similar path. Now he was well versed in it all. The act of consumption was well versed in every culture. Everything needs food. What makes the act of eating wrong? What makes the act of eating human?

Is this divinity?

Was it not the titan Cronus who devoured his children to keep power? Was it not the gods themselves who consumed whatever humans had and claimed it as their own? Was that not Ajamu as he stared down at M/n when he was mortal on a throne crafted by his own hand of sin and lies?

The wood creaks at his stand's weight. He wonders how a stand has any weight yet hides from the eyes of those who lack one, but he never searches for an answer. He's merely old and enjoying a passing fancy. Once this is all over, his eyes will lack the golden haze of a serpent waiting to strike and go back to their normal hue. Humanity restored through hunger. He'd be able to ignore the hunger that had stopped fully fading when he became immortal until it once again enveloped all his senses till he was forced to go hunting again.