PSEUMINO, VENTO AUREO.

✦.⁺ mindless.

content warning for mentions of blood, violence and arrows.

═ ☆. THE ANGER WAS LIKE WATER boiling through your body.

The utter nerve of Prosciutto to walk past you in the hallway after he'd tricked you. You were so stupid. Of course, Prosciutto wouldn't keep his promise. Why would he, when you were practically strangers? He had just been taking advantage of someone desperate enough to trust him.

You stared at the lighter for a second longer before you turned away. The backs of your eyes burned. You couldn't freak out. It was disappointing you'd failed, but now you had to gracefully admit it to Giorno and Trish. That was the real test, after all. If you would be honest. Were you supposed to tell them now or at midnight when you were supposed to meet again? You didn't want to make it seem like you were hiding it.

You felt a sudden pang of guilt as you heard Narancia stop in front of your door. He probably thought you were crazy, sprinting to your dorm room out of nowhere. He'd even been nice enough to pick up your books for you.

"Is everything okay?" He looked around your room. "Did someone break in or something?"

You waved your hands, forcing your voice to come out lightly. "Nothing like that. I just... thought I left the lighter burning." You nodded towards the silver lighter on your desk. You had thought that.

Narancia stacked your books on your desk and eyed the makeshift Stonehenge around the lighter. "Nifty set-up. It looks like you're keeping the lighter prisoner," he laughed. "Is this for class or something?"

"Or something," you mumbled, trying to discreetly wipe your eyes. There was no way you would be getting your 300 hundred euros back from Prosciutto. Why had you given him that extra hundred?

"No judgement here. I've got a bunch of random-ass stuff back in my dorm, too." Narancia mindlessly reached for the lighter and flicked it on. "You know what? This kind of reminds me of something Fugo told me about—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence.

You and Narancia both screamed as a humanoid figure materialized, seemingly out of thin air. A black cloak rippled at its back, its neck covered by a large collar with what looked like arrowheads on it. Beneath its broad Venetian hat was a face that reminded you of carnival masks with stitched cables near its eyes and mouth. It strode forward soundlessly, taller than your doorframe. You cried out as it lunged forward, hands emerging beneath its cloak to clutch at Narancia's face.

No. It wasn't clutching Narancia's face.

Narancia was still frozen beside your desk, holding the lighter. The humanoid had pulled something from Narancia. His body, but slightly golden and translucent, edges surrounded by flame.

What is that?

It shook Narancia's translucent body. Narancia's eyes were wide as plates. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.