Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 260

[madimpossibledreamer]

I did take some liberties with depicting some of the Lords of Death, especially when there wasn’t much information that survived.  This comes into play slightly more with the next chapter, but it’s still a factor.

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The group tries the diplomacy route.
Word Count: 1167
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS

 

        The volatile situation is uncomfortably familiar, where she has to do everything right and if she doesn’t something terrible will happen.  That means she knows exactly what she’s supposed to do, which is a bit of a relief.  That should make this all easy, but for some reason it’s anything but easy.  It’s actually making her freeze up a little.  Hopefully Mr. Brown and Captain von Stroheim can cover for her if she can’t think what to say.
        The rough voice continues, and she follows Mr. Brown’s gaze to the speaker, a large humanoid figure with what looks like charcoal smudged around one eye down to his cheek.  The jewelry he wears is large and flat and probably could double as armor.  He leans forward to look at them in the firelight, casually putting weight on a giant spear, but with how casually he’s treating it Darling is sure that he could in an instant stop pretending to be casual and come at them with the spear, no matter how heavy it looks.  He’s probably trying to intimidate them.  It’s also working.  Hopefully they’re the types to try to compete with each other to try to hurt them, thus dividing their attentions.  It’d be so much worse if they can actually present a united front.  “Come on, why are we even bothering with the mannequins or the hospitality or any of the preliminaries?  It’s obvious that the glowing one’s seeing right through it.  He’s one of the…what did those Ancients call ‘em?  Hamon Warriors.”
        Some of the assembled Lords of Death hiss or gasp, which is…well, it’s something.  She’s not sure what, exactly, only that they’ve heard of them and aren’t fond of them.  Does that mean they’re especially weak to them or something?  That’d be neat if they were, but she’s reluctant to think they got lucky in this place, out of anywhere.
        “I am indeed a Hamon Warrior, but I did not come to this place to bring destruction.  We seek a path through, not to bring war to your domain,” Mr. Brown acknowledges, breath slowing and just the hint of the light of the Ripple playing over his body.  A warning, but not a threat, although given what she knows about humans who act like this, it’s probable that they still won’t make the distinction.
        The giant humanoid bat wrinkles his already flattened nose, stretching out the giant wings, earrings and bracelets clinking as he does so.  “And here I thought we already brightened things up unbearably in the name of ‘hospitality’.”  So he definitely doesn’t like light.  That might be useful.  That is a start.  I’d add more, but I don’t want to talk over any of them.  You might miss something crucial.
        “Come now, if we don’t play gracious hosts, we won’t get return guests,” the sole woman states, laughing a little, crystal eyes narrowed the way an amused cat might, tail swishing playfully.  Her black fur almost looks metallic, the way it glows just slightly.
        At least this gets ruffian-looking spear man to cheer up, guffawing loudly.  “Yeah, yeah, like that’s a concern.”  But he does seem more cheerful and less likely to go stabbing that spear through them any moment.  Or, well, at least, trying to.  She’s pretty sure the others could put up a good fight against attempted stabbings, and she might be able to run and hide under some of the benches if things go wrong.  She’d try to fight them directly, but neither she nor Whisper are the best at strength things, and she’s not sure what kinds of emotions they might be likely to suffer from.  An inflated ego?  Wounded pride?  Do they even feel normal emotions like humans do?  She’d ask but maybe it could be seen as an insult or maybe even, depending on the interpretation, an attempt to get weaknesses.  Which technically it would be.
        One of those sitting near the back, a red wasp-like creature with fiery, iridescent wings pushes over an identical mannequin onto the empty bench, and the bench hisses and sizzles as the mannequin starts to melt into wax.  “We should introduce ourselves,” he suggests.  “After all, it’s clear that some,” he nods at Darling and the Captain, “…are not our people, and we already know that they didn’t come here of their own accord.  How will they know who they are if we don’t tell them?”  He doesn’t particularly speak with confidence or authority, Darling notes, and the way he keeps glancing at the others—is he trying to gain favor with them?  Maybe even play to their ego?  But that doesn’t mean that he’s not possibly dangerous in his own right.
        The ruffian snorts.  The derisive look says he doesn’t think much of the previous speaker.  “Fat lot of good it’ll do them when they’re dying.  I say throw ‘em in the Houses and be done with it.”
        “Now, let’s not be hasty,” another voice interrupts, barely slurring.  It’s clear that the speaker has had a lot of practice trying to hide it, but Darling has had a lot of practice spotting it, and she hadn’t exactly expected to meet a deity with a drinking problem.  Then again, she hadn’t expected to meet any deities, or even to meet others with friends like Whisper (even if it is possibly part of her own soul), so her expectations were not prepared for any of this.  It’s unclear if this drunk deity can see them, given that when he glances over, he’s got a black blindfold over his eyes.  “You’ll still have your bloodshed and entertainment when this is all done, if we do this right.  Don’t forget, we have humiliation to avenge.”  The wrinkly hands carefully barely tremble as they pick up the jar of presumably yet more alcohol to consume.
        And then a dog trots in proudly behind them—not skeletal, like the servants of the first so-called Lord of the Underworld they had met, but seemingly starving, skin and bone and a rotting tongue and eyes.  She’s pretty sure it’s specifically showing them its tongue rather than keeping it in its mouth, trying to gross them out, from the sight or stench, even though the smell is dampened in comparison to some of the stinks she’s had to deal with lately.  Laughing at them.  The female deity reaches out to pet it as it goes by and sits at the feet of another deity.  That’s what was watching us, one of the servants of the two masters of this place, Kisin, Whisper tells her suddenly.
        That’s something.  They haven’t reacted to Whisper saying anything, and they’re not looking at Whisper, so they might not even know he exists.  Then again, if they don’t know, why would Balam?  Maybe they’re just pretending so they can catch her off guard later.
        Still, it’ll be useful to have this information.  Like scouting.  It doesn’t matter if the enemy knows you’re doing it as long as you find valuable information.