>>6089888"Cast into an alien place, you still followed initiative and the instinct to 'survive'. Others in your place would have acted more irrationally," the vampire muses. You almost burst out laughing at the word "bizarre." Thank goodness you didn't, or you'd have to explain what was so funny. You make a scene out of trying to cough.
DIO raises an eyebrow, then sighs. "It does get dusty in this clime. I'll have to have the staff tidy up more." He guides you through the dark entrance hallway and up the stairs to the second floor. The mansion is strangely calm from a vantage that's not of a team of Stand users on a mission to destroy it. There are occasional muffled noises that could be anything from snoring to bedside conversation to an undead underling feasting on a corpse. You feel too tired to care, adrenaline gone entirely.
"You may rest here for tonight...Itsaso. You have plenty of time to sleep until the morning calls to prayer wake the city up. We'll talk further after then." You peek inside where he leads you and there is indeed a fairly nice and clean, if old-fashioned, looking bedroom. But by the time you look back, he's vanished. So dramatic.
The sheets are cool, clean. Shoes at the foot of the bed, hoodie shrugged off and crumpled to the side, and you doze off quickly.
***
It is sunny, and later in the morning when you awaken. Surprisingly, the first call to prayer of the day, resounding through the many mosques in Cairo, didn't even budge you. Stretching your arms out, you remember this place is too nice to be your home bedroom and recall your situation.
Self-imposed mission: fix DIO and as much of the bad shit that happens from here on out, or die trying.
What's the next step of your master plan? Getting your own Stand. You need the Arrow. You need--
A knocking at your door startles you, the sound of wood against wood. "May I come in?" An old woman's voice. This must be Enya the Hag. Or just Enya. "Hag" feels too rude, even for her.
The door creaks open. She walks in. In the flesh, she really does look like any other grandma, perhaps a bit on the feisty side, not out of place in some hippie store or commune in California. You almost feel guilty for knowing otherwise.
In one hand Enya steadies herself with her cane; in the other she has a steady hold on a small platter holding a spiced bowl of what smells like beans (ful medames) and a cup with fragrant, hot black and mint tea. She places it on a table.
"Hello, young lady! Lord DIO told me all about the foundling he met last night. You can call me Enya." Her eyes turn cold. "But you knew my name already, didn't you? Kehehe! Know another seer when I see one."
You can:
>Thank her for being a polite host. Not every day you get a free bed-and-breakfast in DIO's Mansion.>Skip the pleasantries. Ask about the Arrow. You need a Stand to stand a chance, right?>First things first. What is the date and time?>Stir shit. Tell her you know what her son did in 1985.>(Write-in) 