PSEUMINO, VENTO AUREO.

✦.⁺ intrinsic.

content warning for mentions of suffocation.

═ ☆. WHAT THE HELL?"

Narancia struggled furiously against the material, trying to break free. It seemed like the more he moved, the tighter the material wound around him. It extended from someplace unknown behind you and snaked around Narancia's wrists and ankles, moving like something alive. It didn't look so beautiful anymore.

You grabbed fistfuls of the material and pulled hard. It flowed like silk through your fingers, slipping from your grasp. You tried tearing it like tape, but it twisted each time you tried getting a grip on it.

Panic clawed its way up your throat. The material slithered up towards Narancia's face, wrapping around his mouth to gag him. Ribbons of it split apart and draped around his neck like shimmering necklaces before pulling tight. Narancia's cries abruptly cut off as the material began constricting his airflow.

"Oh god." You dropped to your knees. You dug her fingers into the material, forcing your fingers through the gaps to try and tug it off of Narancia. As if sensing your thoughts, the material closed the gaps, slowly tightening itself like a boa constrictor made of fabric.

You bit back a scream of frustration. Where had this fabric come from? The longer you looked at it, the less you could believe it. The way it moved. Its sheer, semi-gold colour. The feel of it against your fingers.

A terrifying thought struck you, freezing your movements.

You thought of feeling something unspooling in your chest, like a length of fabric being pulled from its roll.

But I can't have a Stand. Black Sabbath said I wasn't worthy.

Hadn't it?

Someone shouted your name. You jerked your head behind you. You barely had time to register the bright pink hair before Trish swept down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and drawing you close.

"What's going on?" Trish said. Her voice was soft, gentle. Her hand rubbed comforting circles against your sweater.

Someone moved to Narancia from behind Trish. He crouched beside Narancia, hands hovering over the fabric. Bruno's blue eyes flashed when he glanced back at Trish.

"You need to get your Stand under control. It's suffocating Narancia."

"I don't know what to do," you gasped. Narancia's face was going deathly white. You could see his arms and legs pressing painfully tight against his body.

"You need to calm down," Trish said, voice still soft. "Your Stand is a part of you. No one can control it but you."

"But it can't be my Stand. I didn't—"

"Don't be afraid of it. This is your soul made physical. Can't you feel it? You're intrinsically connected." Trish's green eyes focused intently on your face. They grounded you, pushing down your panic.