avido

    “no, no !” sandro exclaimed, letting out the most pitiful of cries. his playing cards, which he had been meticulously stacking into an impressive tower, had just come tumbling down. the culprit ? guido, his beloved segugio italiano, who pounced upon the table in excitement after alessandro half-heartedly tried to shoo him away. with how big he was, alessandro was surprised he had not tipped over the table as well. apparently, it was now his playtime & how dare sandro overlook that !  did their hunting venture, not even an hour ago, truly not tire him out ? “look at what that brat did, bona !” the lord, who was still very much upset, called out to his sister. “it was nearly finished !” rising from his seat, sandro fell to the ground in a squat, letting out a loud sigh. still wallowing in self-pity, he tapped his fingers against the side of his head & tried to wish away the mess of cards he would eventually need to pick up. “one day of peace ; that is all i ask...”

“perhaps  he  was  aiming  for  your  throat.”  even  mary  could  not  believe  her  words.  boris  bounced  by  the  lord’s  side  with  new  life,  and  she  walked  quickly  ahead  to  hide  her  smile.  fierce  beast  indeed.

the  sky  was  black  and  starry  ;  the  trees  massed  darkly  against  the  last  lingering  light  of  the  horizon.  mary  made  for  the  tell-tale  white  heads  of  the  chamomile.  there  was  no  sacking  to  kneel  on  (  her  impromptu  visit  had  left  her  ill-prepared  )  but  she  did  not  care—  had  never  really  cared,  only  the  gardener  made  such  a  fuss  about  her  skirts  when  she  first  came  for  cuttings.  she  stole  a  glance  at  alessandro.  he  did  not  seem  one  for  custom.  he  would  not  mind,  she  was  sure.

“boris  belongs  to  miss  adelina.  she  has  caught  a  chill,  so  the  pair  have  been  separated,  and  he  has  not  taken  the  break-up  well.”  mary  hesitated.  “i  am  governess  to  all  the  russian  royal  children.  might  i  ask  your  name?”

    his frame shook with mirth at her comment, as he failed to imagine his new friend doing such a thing. walking just behind her, alessandro wondered what her expression read like after saying such a thing & the corner of his lips drew up into a smirk. when she knelt to gather whatever she’d come for, he walked around to look at her ; a flattering compliment armed on his tongue. deciding he wanted to live another day, he kept it to himself.

 “ah...” sandro’s gaze quickly changed to a sympathetic one, reminded of ippolita in that moment. now, he could recognize that she was gathering chamomile -- likely for tea. italy was not known for its tea remedies, but his father often had tea imported from china that always managed to chase away most of what made them feel poorly. “my youngest sister was prone to chills when she was a child. our governess used similar remedies.” & sandro would always be waiting at the door, a tray of tea in his hands, until the pot grew cold or someone forced him away. in the end, she would always get better ; but sandro despised his father for not allowing him to be with her. 

when mary asked for his name, his eyes widened in surprise ; how could he have forgotten such a simple formality ? “i offered to escort you, yet did not think to give my name -- how foolish of me. i am alessandro di parma,” then, with a mischievous grin, he added, “however, i would like it if you called me sandro.”

bold  ─  always  applies. italic  ─  sometimes  applies.

the  civil  thing  to  do  was  decline  the  lord’s  offer,  politely,  and  return  to  her  rooms,  boris  in  tow.  mary  did  not  need  alessandro’s  name  to  know  he  was  beyond  her  station—  his  clothes  and  manner  betrayed  that  much.  she  must  refuse  him,  and  yet  …  the  goodnight  caught  on  her  tongue.  mary  had  hoped  to  cut  some  chamomile  from  the  gardens  for  poor  little  adelina.  it  would  soothe  her  throat.  but,  between  the  spelling  books  and  bundles  of  petticoats,  time  had  slipped  away.  now  she  could  not  go  unaccompanied.  perhaps  in  england,  but  not  here.  people  talked.  while  mary  usually  passed  unnoticed,  a  governess  stealing  into  the  night  was  enough  to  cause  a  stir.

what’s  more,  boris  showed  no  signs  of  moving.  he  fussed  about  the  lord  like  a  thing  in  love.  if  she  left  now,  mary  doubted  he  would  follow.

“perhaps,”  the  words  came  slowly.  “if  you  would  be  obliged,  i  should  like  to  visit  the  gardens.”

    sandro could be blissfully ignorant when he wanted to be ( quite often, if you asked anyone that knew him well enough ) & so he found no fault in strolling around in a castle he had most certainly overstayed his welcome in. after-all, he was doing the honorable thing & offering a woman protection. nothing funny was going on, the spaniel present would make sure of that. “certainly,” he quickly agreed, delighted to have something that would make this trip not entirely a waste. “lead the way.” as he stood, boris rose with him & licked at his hand, reminding alessandro of a question that had crossed his mind earlier. “ah -- is he yours ? boris,” he asked, inclining his head towards the dog. “he does not seem to respond to you very well. if you are looking after him for his owner, you could always bribe him with treats.” 

his allegra & guido were trained to respond to all of his family, but the servants he charged with their care always had to use meat or fruits to get them to obey. guido was particularly fond of apples, often trying to earn them from sandro as well. “a pretty maiden requires a diligent protector at this time of night. yours came happily bounding towards me as soon as i was in sight.”

open  starter  !

the  youngest  tsarevna  had  a  sniffle.  it  was  nothing  serious,  easily  cured  by  a  few  days  bedrest,  but,  as  a  precaution,  the  little  girl’s  spaniel  had  been  shut  out  of  the  bedroom.  his  name  was  boris  and  he  was  a  proud  thing  ;  easily  offended,  and  he  stuck  to  mary’s  feet  with  all  the  bitterness  of  an  old  man  wronged.  mary  thought  faintly  of  the  pope.  same  eyebrows.

upon  leaving  her  charges  one  night,  accompanied  by  the  patter  of  four  paws  on  the  flagstones,  mary  made  for  her  room.  the  castle  was  quiet,  so  she  paused  to  listen  at  the  window,  where  the  pigeons  cooed  their  gentle  melody  from  the  battlements.

but  boris  had  other  ideas.

the  first  bark  sent  the  birds  scattering.  the  governess  turned  and  found,  to  her  horror,  that  boris  was  not  at  her  heels,  but  burying  his  nose  into  the  crevices  of  a  person  who  perhaps,  really,  polite  and  proper  spaniels  should  not  be  burying  their  noses  into.

“boris.”  mary  hissed,  and  then,  louder,  smoothing  her  skirts.  “you  must  forgive  my  friend.”  she  forced  a  smile.  “he  gets  ever  so  excited  in  company.”

    the italian lord was about to take his leave from sasso cobrbaro, following an audience with some low-ranking pro-ottoman official. they had agreed to indulge his investigations into his father’s death & sandro arrived with enough coin to loosen their tongue if need be. money could make almost anyone talk, his father had taught him that, but you needed to be sure you had the right person before making such an offer. in the end, the meeting proved to be nothing other than a waste of time & put alessandro in a sour mood. once again, he was at a dead end. he would need to speak with his older sister to reconsider his methods. could things get any worse ? however, when a handsome dog had approached him & began sniffing every nook & cranny of sandro that he could reach, his spirits immediately lifted.

 the lord quickly crouched down, ruffling a hand through the pup’s coat & allowing his paws to perch upon his own knee. sandro gave a glance up to the woman that approached, offering an understanding smile. “it is no trouble, he must smell my own hounds. tis a shame i left them to rest in my chambers at castelgrande ; they will be jealous when i return,” he chuckled, giving an affectionate rub on the head to the spaniel. “you are quite a friendly one, your holiness,” he jested to the dog that simply gave him an inquisitive look, quite similar to the one the Pope had given him during his few audiences.  

“were you headed somewhere, my lady, or merely strolling ? i was about to take my leave, but it is quite late ; perhaps, i could escort you.”

@bastardparma​

Matthias never thought that he would see any Italian guests at a German wedding, nevermind one that would combine Germany and the Ottoman empire. It was a day for the history books, this union would mark what would hopefully be the start of Germany’s more powerful rule. Whoever had planned the day had thought of everything, even down to the food celebrating both the bride and groom. The ceremony would have both Lutheran and Islam elements and although Matthias knew little of the Islamic faith, he embraced it for his sister. Weeks prior he had asked to learn some of the  Qur'an, to show his sister’s new family how accomodating her family was. Matthias wasn’t completely surprised at his sisters decision to convert, it would make for a happier union if the two didn’t have opposing faiths.  Knowing how awkward this all could be for their guests, Matthias had made a point to be more sociable then ever, greeting everyone and engaging in small talk and it was no different when he approached the Italian man. “You looked as if you could use some refreshments,” Matthias offered the man a smile and extended a glass of wine to the stranger. “I know the customs arent what you are accustomed to but it was a beautiful ceremony.” 

    “you are a very perceptive man,” sandro chuckles, taking the glass with a grateful bow of his head. the poor servers were having a hell of a time keeping up with how fast he was downing his drinks, so he was sure that they were grateful for this aid in their endeavors. “it was indeed beautiful, but it also reminded me of the terrible fact that i may have to one day see my sisters off at their prospective weddings.” though sandro was not personally acquainted with the german royals, for obvious reasons, he had gathered enough basic information before the wedding. he knew that he was speaking to one of the bride’s brothers & an illegitimate one at that. does he yearn for legitimization as much as alessandro does ? perhaps not, but he hoped to find someone to relate to ; even if they were seemingly an enemy. why does this place keeping reminding him of everything he stands to either lose or gain ? it really is a pain. “as strange as this all may be, it is...intriguing to see the exchange of cultures.”

point gained: 2 replies + 0 bonus point ( for every 5 replies ) = 2

point allocation: +1 intelligence, +1 physical 

Friederike laughed, genuine mirth on her face. She had a sense of humour, even at the expense of her own country. “And therein lies your mistake. German alcohol is second to none. Especially when you are used to communion wine,” she teased. She had never been to Italy, and knew little of it save for their dedication to the Catholic Church. It seemed strange that she had been born and baptised into that religion, and was now on the third faith of her life. This wedding certainly would not have been possible if her father had remained a man of the Holy Roman Empire. She would have been allied with Italy then, and this wedding would have been somebody else’s entirely, but the path of her life had taken many turns, and led her here. 

“I appreciate your well-wishes,” she bowed her head, though her brows cock upwards at his latter words. “Ah.” Was all she said, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “Would it be inappropriate to offer my condolences for Milan’s loss? I hope you do not think me heartless for wedding so soon after such tragedy.” 

    “perhaps. or we are both terribly biased towards our country’s brewing capabilities.” he cannot help the mirthful laughter that passes his lips at her mention of communion wine. horribly watered down & a smell that was often times equivalent to piss. he visibly shudders at the memory, finding that he cannot bring himself to disagree. “perhaps if they improved the quality, i would find myself at church more often,” he confessed, with barely a drop of shame. “but, i promise, you have not lived until you have tried tuscan table wine. i used to never go through a meal without it.” 

at her comment, sandro was quick to shake his head, making sure to show he meant no ill intent. “there are many heartless people in this world, but i do not believe you to be one of them. we have all suffered our losses. a wedding is a wonderful reprieve from it all.” truthfully, he needed this. an evening of cheer & an escape from the politics he found himself trying to shoulder alongside bona. perhaps he would even wake with a hounding headache & stay bedridden for the day -- being a man of twenty-five really had put a hinderance on his recovery after a night of drinking. 

point gained: 2 replies + 0 bonus point ( for every 5 replies ) = 2

point allocation: +2 luck

@bastardparma​

Friederike knew little of Italy, and cared even less. Their fate so closely knitted to the Catholic church, and that naturally set them on an entirely different path to the one her own country walked. Now her own future was sealed, it seemed even more unlikely that the Italians would ever be friends, but still, they were here, and she would not be rude enough to ignore their presence, to not thank them for attending. 

She had been informed that the man she approached was the son of the recently-departed Duke of Milan. She felt a little twinge of guilt at that, that she should have initiated such celebrations when grief was still raw, as necessary as such things were. It didn’t prevent her from greeting him warmly, nor from attempting humour as she spoke. After all, any attempt at condolences would seem hollow from her mouth, when the last thing she wanted to discuss was something so serious. “I never thought I would have Italians at my wedding, but it seems I stand corrected,” she grinned at him. 

    his sisters are Lord knows where, he cannot fully remember the last time he saw them in the crowd -- had he seen them ? maybe he would do a sweep around the room, or maybe he would grab someone pretty & convince them to dance with him. he didn’t care. it was nice, not caring. but then he had to care because the bride, of all people, was approaching him. she seems in good spirits, as would likely be expected, so he reciprocates the same. “nor did i expect germans to provide good drink,” sandro quipped back, swirling his goblet for affect. “a pleasant surprise.” 

however, beneath the buzz, propriety kicks him & he straightens himself with a small cough. “allow me to give my congratulations on your union,” he says with a polite bow of his head. “though i do not have any authority to say so on behalf of milan,” he says with hidden bitterness, feelings that get drawn out when he indulges himself. though, never too much, not enough for anyone to really see unless they know him well enough. it helps that he bears a wide grin, allowing his amusement to outweigh all else. “i wish you both a happy life together.”

“Most of the known world,” he answered proudly. “It has taken a lot of my life but I want to know the world I live in and not be confined by the place I was born. There is much to see and learn from other countries and I enjoy doing it. Have you ever travelled?” Not many people did to the extent that he had. “Assassinated?” That was a surprise to hear. “Is that the reason for your visit here, to find the people responsible?” He recognised the name of Parma. “I once passed through Parma on my way to Bologna, a truly beautiful place.”

“only throughout italy...although, not even the entirety of it, nor sicily or the aegadian islands. i was always kept close to home.” that, of course, never stopped the young lord from getting into mischief here & there. with the few friends he retained growing up, they would travel to experience the culture of nearby regions. he had certainly never been asia, where he was told most of his ancestors came from. “poisoned,” he specified. despite the heavy topic, he kept his relaxed persona & gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “i was already making the trip here before he passed. but, yes, that is now my primary concern.” the sooner he could find the culprit, the sooner he could guarantee that the same people would not come after his sisters. the one responsible was certainly not any ally to the sforza siblings, so that meant milan was at risk. “indeed, it is. i was primarily raised in milan, with my sisters, but my mother would take me to parma for a few weeks during the summer.”

point gained: 2 replies + 0 bonus point ( for every 5 replies ) = 2

point allocation: +1 intelligence, +1 physical