𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓 𝕷𝖆 𝕷𝖚𝖓𝖆 | Prosciutto X Fem!Reader

☁4☁

"Where did that hole in your hand come from?"

Illuso examined Ladys palm like some sort of medical professional, running his fingers over the rim of her skin in a way that made her laugh. A solid, perfect circle, cut out of her hand in such a precise way that one would say it's some sort of illusion-- Though as he poked his fingers through it, he found it anything but that. 

"A while before I came down for Prosciutto, some people came up and took some samples of me for something! They took this big circle out of my hand and left on a little rocket, or whatever that pointy thing was."

Right, there was a moon landing about a month ago, wasn't there?

It's strange no one even took notice of Ladys hollow hand until she up and mentioned it herself. But then again, even the most important matters can be overlooked by accident.

Just like Prosciuttos disappearance.

Where was he, some ask? A little ways down the street, tucked away in some coffee shop, frustratingly scribbling down one thing after another, Risotto a mere seat in front of him. 

Ideas on what Lady was. Concepts, if you will. How she is what she is, where she might've come from, what her goal is, why the team seems to be unbothered, whether calming things is apart of her ability or not...

Everything was a dead end. All evidence pointed to her own very words, 'I'm the moon!' 

It's such complete bullshit, there's no way! The moon is the moon, a floating rock in space hovering over another floating rock-- It's not a person! It could never be!

And yet, with clear evidence, the moon is apparently in their living room, talking to illuso about the wonders of space.

But how, that is the question. How did the moon come down here in the first place, if she's even the moon at all?

"Stands exist," Risotto pointed out, "maybe.."

"She could be one?" Prosciutto almost sounded unsure of himself. Too unsure. "No, if it were a stand, then there's a host, but no one can control an entire moon for their amusement."

"Right. Perhaps Lady's stand, or Lady herself if she were one, behaves somewhat like Ghiaccios White Album, where there's no real distinction if they themselves are the stand, or just host to one since they haven't a physical form."

He'd be a little more spot on than expected.

"Do you know how you came to be?" Illuso hummed, leaning his elbows onto his knees curiously.

"Yep! So, the universe started out--"

"No, I mean how you got this--" He vaguely gestured to her body, "--on earth. I'm  pretty sure that as the moon, you aren't meant to look human."

"Ooh, ok! So you wanna know how I came to look like this?" Her grin caused a handful of stars to twinkle along her, as if they were smiling as well. "Well, the truth is... I don't know!"

"You... Don't know?"

"Nope!"

"You don't have any memory at all?"

"The farthest back I can think, is when the palm of my hand touched something cold, and sharp. But that was with the palm that's missing, so maybe something touched it and awakened me?"

"Sounds strange." Illuso murmured as if he wasn't actively talking to a celestial body.

"You're telling me, I'm just as confused as you are!" 

-------

It was like watching an obedient dog and its owner, Lady and Prosciutto. He'd complain or make a remark about one little thing, and all of the sudden, it's fixed, or he suddenly feels better. 

Melone and Formaggio are watching it all unfold, two days after Prosciutto had spoken to Risotto over her intentions; and it became rather clear that he was slowly growing to accept the fact that this woman, who came from nowhere, is the moon, and that he's stuck with her.

Though they have yet to see him seriously complain.

It didn't look like he minded the attempted food she made him when he forgot to eat during work, even if it looked a little gross, nor did it seem like he cared to not talk to her when asked. Genuinely, and truthfully, it looked as though he didn't mind her.

Dare Melone say, like her?

"No he doesn't, you idiot." Formaggio would snicker, slapping the back of his head. He could've sworn Melones brain was so small, it'd rattle like dice in his skull when he hit it. "Are you not seeing this stuff in front of you, mister hopeless romantic?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's literally having Lady organize all his shit for him while he takes a nap."

"Jokes on him then, she just threw one of his important documents in the trash."