Chapter Text
Awaking in that rose garden, Diavolo was sure of one thing, he was going to die here.
That was the only thing he was sure of these days, after that final battle with Giorno Giovanna, his perception of reality shattered. Dying over and over does that to a person. At first he always put up a fight, prolonging the long arduous death that always sat menacingly on the horizon. But now, all he could do was sit there and wait and allow his mind to wander. How would it happen this time? A ravenous bear, or maybe a surprise tsunami? He chuckled to himself at the final thought, grateful that after all this, at least he could still laugh.
Time passed, maybe minutes? Maybe an hour? Enough time for the azure skies to fade to a sweet tangerine.
“What was taking so long?” Diavolo muttered to himself, allowing himself to recline into the plushy green grass. Death usually came instantaneously, without much buildup. Perhaps being strapped to a gurney or waking up in a uniform in the midst of battle. But this was different, nothing seemed to be lurking in the shadows.
It was, just, peaceful and quiet. Diavolo decided that he hated it, without the threat of impending doom, his mind allowed itself to wonder, to better times.
Doppio crossed his mind, he often does but not for long. However, he couldn’t help but think about how Doppio would love the natural setting and how eager he would be to spot unsuspecting animals and attempt to befriend them.
Sweet thoughts turned sour rather quickly, tremors settling in as Diavolo thought of Doppio’s frequently bloodied face and panicked voice. He went through so much for him, and yet he still failed.
Failure.
Failure. The concept was foreign to him up until now, but he never really thought of it. Now all he could do was think. Was this his punishment? To think until he died? He jumped up, refusing to entertain those depressing notions any further, he might as well wander around a bit until he met his eventual end. He aimlessly walked about the garden, taking note of the looming estate in the near distance. The stone exterior was reminiscent of the castles he found himself reading about in tattered history books as a child. He’s only gone back in time a number of times and got brutally executed every single time. For the brief moments, he found himself alone in Victorian settings, he couldn’t help but appreciate the ambiance. It was quiet (until the mobs gathered) and he could walk around freely (until he couldn’t).
It was nice. This was nice. Diavolo stopped to pluck a rose, he was bringing it up to his nose when he found he was thrown to the ground by a shadowy figure. There was a sharp pain in his neck, and he felt himself getting weaker. Weak protests left his throat until they dwindled into nothing. His eyelids were getting so heavy. This was it, huh, a surprise attack. As he faded into unconsciousness, he squinted to make out the face of his executioner in the moonlight.
Blonde locks and matching brows that were twisted into something menacing and determined. Fear struck his heart as he was reminded of Giovanna; the same drive radiated off of this man. The only difference was the exposed smile that showed off matching fangs. Fangs. Diavolo couldn’t dwell on the possibility of vampires before another, much larger, figure loomed over them. It happened rather quickly, the larger shadow pulling away the blonde and reprimanding him.
Diavolo couldn’t make out a face in the darkness, he was too far gone, he smelled blood. So much blood. His eyelids were so heavy.
He heard concerned shouting, but he couldn’t be too sure. It wouldn’t be the first time he clung to false hope on the frills of death.