𝑠𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛

STARTER FOR: Anyone … Open / @omertastarter​ LOCATION: The Bianchi Estate. DATE AND TIME: December 11th, 2020. 3:00PM.

Being here now, in the wake of death, was a pillar of insurmountable grief. Deran stirs in the sentiment of everything, the sorrowful faces and black clothing, all patrons clad in large coats to hide from the cold of an early-December New York. The service was nice enough, a somber affair. Deran stood to the side and watched with a gentle stare, seated with his cousins. He fixated on a chipped tile on the floor halfway through. To his right, his father mentions Christmas. 

Once back at the Bianchi estate, he wanders. He plucks up prepared foods from small tables and pops them into his mouth, though his appetite was fleeting. With so many people inside, with so much security, the place looks brand new. When he was young, he used to picture large balls happening here, ones where women paint their cheeks red and lift their breasts to their neck. 100 years of familial activity was enough to earn in his overflowing imagination to go rogue as a child. Now, it’s all just a little bleak. 

He reaches for a photo from the mantle in the common area, one of Gregory and Deran’s father, Colin. They look formal, neckties and dress shoes. Their faces were baron of any smiles or teeth. Deran thinks he may turn to concrete if he looks long enough at their stern, steady eyes, focused on the camera, hands clasped together in front of their bodies. It’s then he realizes that someone was just a few feet from him, no doubt taking a few laps as well. “Photographs are weird,” Deran says, breaking the silence that brews between him and the other, “It’s strange to think something can be immortalized like that.”

-

      for as much as she was sure those receiving sorrowful regards for gregory’s passing felt like a broken record, elise sure felt like one giving them. she was certain that they only went in one ear and out the other, and honestly she couldn’t blame anyone in the receiving line for hearing it over ... and over. just like she couldn’t blame anyone for breaking away from the main room, from the crowd and the steady reminder that everyone there only had gathered to bring condolences for the passing of someone they loved. it sucked, severely. elise imagined that she’d find members of the bianchi family littered throughout the house, tucked into the little corners attempting to find any moment of respite they could, though it didn’t make her feel like any less of an intruder when she stumbled upon them. like now.

      “ imagine how they used to be shot, ” she was hoping she hadn’t been noticed, that she could slip out of the room just as quickly as she had stumbled upon it and leave him undisturbed to his thoughts, but such was not the case. elise pressed a shoulder into the door frame, filling it only part way, and sighed, “ sitting still for long periods of time for the exposure to capture. and people believed that smiling in photographs would steal your soul so they kept stoic as ever. ” or something to that effect. she had too many useless facts swirling around her head, in moments like these she wondered which of them were actually true. not that it mattered.

      “ it’s nice to have little memories like that ... just within arm’s reach. but yeah, it’s a little strange. you never get the full story. ” a picture was worth a thousand words. she couldn’t see what he had in his hand, but she imagined it was something family oriented. was it candid? posed? did it have a good memory attached to it or something that jogged his memory to the current circumstances? elise only sighed in response. “ at least they’re better than commissioned paintings, hm? ”

OPEN STARTER FOR : OPEN ( @omertastarter​ ) LOCATION / SETTING : BIANCHI ESTATE DATE : DECEMBER ELEVEN, TWENTY-TWENTY

           Their presence at the wake was ironic, and Tatiana found herself secretly amused at the thought that were it not for them, there wouldn’t be a wake to begin with. Though she would never express that, especially here, of all places. She wasn’t an idiot. As she wandered from room to room, observing those in attendance and conversing with whoever saw fit to engage her in casual conversation, Tati found herself outside : escaping to a secluded area of the Bianchi estate where, naturally, her phone would vibrate with a call.     “Fuck,”    she swore under her breath as she removed the cell phone from the pocket of her dress, swiping ignore with a roll of her eyes. She couldn’t turn it off completely. She had a business to run, after all. But Tati had also specified to her staff and the board that under no circumstances bar a catastrophe should she be contacted. It was a funeral, for gods sake. Gregory’s, sure. But even she wasn’t so cruel as to work at a wake - well…

             Sending a text message to her assistant to ensure they spread the word that Tatiana was unavailable, period, she found her eyes drawn up towards a figure seemingly alone in a corner of the garden. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who had needed a break from the sombre atmosphere inside.    “If I had known this spot was taken - - -”     she cuts herself off, gesturing vaguely in their direction as she approached. Tati raised a brow, her eyes briefly flitting around their surroundings as she crossed her arms over her chest.     “Are you hiding?”

-

      elise had always done well to adjust to social situations, places that required a lot of extra power from her social battery. it was infinitely easier to stand as solid representation in a court of law, or amidst her legal superiors in meetings, than it was to attend services like this. she’d been there before, from the other side. it was not a fun feeling, it wasn’t anything that ever felt right, but it was necessary. death was apart of life, et al. still, there was only so much that elise could stomach before she felt it wear on her ---she could only imagine how the family felt, either way. her grand escape was a simple one, orchestrated while she trailed behind luca and weaved through the throng of black dresses and suits, until she espied the door to the gardens and slipped, hopefully unnoticed, into the fresh air.

      the blast of cold was a pleasant change from the temperature inside, the packed body heat radiating off of so many individuals, though elise was sure she’d rue leaving her coat inside soon-enough. there was nothing in particular to pay mind to, though the circus of thoughts parading through her head was enough to make it seem as if she were studying the various garden beds and imagining what they held when it was the right season. surely, more than decaying leaves and brown stalks. it was somewhere in the ocean of discomfort that she was yanked from her reverie, found her attention slipping toward a welcome face (an all too familiar one) and for the first time all evening elise allowed herself a slight smile. “ i suppose i am hiding, for just a while. it’s nice to see you, tati. ”

Viola’s skin was crawling as so looked around the room. There were too many people in her father’s home, something that had her on edge, not only because Gregory was gone, but because whoever killed him could be in this room. The woman was exhausted, sleep having been elusive for the past week. The weight on her shoulders felt like too much but her face was stone hard, barel any emotions showing. This was not the time to allow herself to be weak, to feel the pain left by her father’s absence, by her family torn apart. This was the time to be strong and Viola was a Bianchi. “Thank you for coming,” she said, barely looking at the person who walked near her. It was like the woman was on auto-pilot, so many people coming up to her to pay their respect that she found herself repeting the same words over and over again.

-

      she’d been in this position before: the pristine image of a mourning child, standing rigid and offering empty words in exchange for the same things said over and over. viola’s expression was something that elise imagined was once affixed to her own face when her own father had passed ten years prior, and it wasn’t difficult for her to find a shred of empathy for the situation in total. more than a shred. her tone was soft when she did extend more than the traditional condolences, her own eyes shifting through the faces occupying the bianchi household. “ it doesn’t get easier. it gets harder, first. but it’s survivable. as impossible as it might seem. ”

“A drink? C’mon don’t be stingy on me,” He had no problem paying for his drinks, considering the fact that the Bianchi’s had more than enough money. But if he could mooch off of the news leak, he was going to. He shrugged at her apology, “Been getting that a lot,” Whomever did it was the one who should be sorry by the time his family was done with them. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Desperate to change the subject, he looked down at the bar top, “Did all the bartenders disappear when I walked in or?”

-

      “ well, we’re in a bar. what would you prefer, angelo? ” the slightest of smiles tipped the corners of her lips and briefly elise wondered if her husband had extended his own condolences to his lifetime friend. she wondered often of what luca was up to, really. an elbow came to rest on the counter, chin in her palm, and when he mentioned the lack of a bartender she let her eyes scan the area. he was right. she chuckled softly. “ i could always wander back there and mix you something in the meantime. i’m pretty sure they sacrifice the right to be upset about people breaking the rules when they take convenient smoke breaks. or whatever they’re doing. ” she understood his need to talk about anything else. elise was not one to press, “ maybe you’re just that intimidating. ”

open to all

bianchi affiliated bar 

He didn’t need protection which was why he tried to slip out from under their radar. Angelo could take care of himself, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep until his dad’s killer was found. He wouldn’t let his guard down, that was for sure. “I’m not buying you a drink,” He said to the person next to him as he sat down at the bar. He knew he was getting looks, thanks to whomever had leaked the news. But that didn’t matter because right now, he needed a drink. “None on the house tonight. In fact, people should probably be offering to buy me drinks instead.” 

-

      “ i wouldn’t ask you to. ” elise settled her bag onto her lap, shifted herself atop the chair beside him. there was a matter of decorum that came with these sorts of things, and elise’s affiliations decreed she offer it in spades. though it wasn’t as if she didn’t feel bad for a son losing a father. she’d been there ten years prior, slipping flowers onto her own father’s grave and giving her silent goodbyes, even if the circumstances were drastically different. “ tell me what you want, i’ll buy you a drink. ”

      practiced soft voice, though she knew angelo well-enough through luca, through all of the years of being attached to the mancini’s in such a way. lips pressed into a thin line and elise’s tone was considerably quieter when she did speak again, “ i am sorry. for whatever it’s worth. ”

LOCATION — Anywhere.

@omertastarter​

Kane sat there with pale blue orbs forward in disbelief at the news, a cigarette hung from his cracking lips as he stared out into the night sky, the glistening lights almost captivating him; although only for a second before he remembered exactly what was happening and where he was. He shuddered, huddling furhter into his oversized black trench coat, sucking as hard as he could on the stick in hopes that it’d take some of his stresses away. 

Kane was a man that found pleasure in moments like this, the complete explosion and chaos was what made him feel alive; and this was exactly what The Syndicate needed; however, Kane personally felt they were not ready to take on such a battle without a game plan, without something meticously in place. Although an abrupt man, he still always had an end game about where he was heading and how he was going to get there. But this — he felt like a piece of the puzzle was missing and he didn’t know what yet.

Flicking the smoke away with ease, he grumbled almost inaudiably, a look of distate evident upon his features, expression stoic. 

‘‘I mean, a shit show is usually my favorite kinda’ evenin’.’‘ He drawled, flickering his gaze in that direction for just a moment, shrugging shoulders at the same time. ‘‘But I feel like we should be preparing for some kinda’ throw back in the next few weeks — no doubt they think this is us.’‘ It was more of Kane thinking aloud, but then again, he wouldn’t care who heard. 

Either way, blood would be spilled over this.

-

      “ don’t let the wrong people hear you saying that. plausible deniability. ” but he wasn’t wrong. it was a shit show of the highest caliber, the finest quality. the kind of performance people paid thousands of dollars to see on broadway or something of similar ilk, complete with a bow from the cast. except they were missing, weren’t they? a soft smirk cracked at her lips, tipping the corners upward in slight.

      she was wrapped in her own pea coat, one arm crossed over her chest to shield herself from the cold ---and new york sure had a way of being cold. the draft between looming buildings, the bitter chill as it nipped at the tip of your nose, not things elise was particularly fond of, but things that had made the city home for the past 19 years regardless. it didn’t stop her from slipping a cigarette between her own lips, from searching her pockets with thin fingers before eyeing kane, “ got a light i can borrow? must’ve lost mine. ”

      and what of this mess? even on the fringes of the syndicate’s more hands-on business, elise knew that this would case a ripple through the family. she’d be hearing about it for the foreseeable future, warning people to keep their voices down in public places lest any blowback come onto them. and she had no idea about any of it, did she? the circumstances of gregory’s death, the guilty party or any of the finer details that weren’t on a need-to-know basis. an absolute and utter shit show. she’d have to send angelo flowers. 

[ Olivia Munn, cis female, she/hers, 40 ] Wanted, dead or alive is [ Elise Fox-Mancini ]. They are a [ Corporate Business Attorney ] who have been in New York City for [ nineteen years ]. They are affiliated with [ syndicate ] and serves them as a [ associate ]. People say they are [ observant ] and [ methodical ] but their enemies would say they are [ shrewd ] and [ vengeful ]. They are described as [ matte red lipstick and six-inch heels, an ice cold gaze that pierces straight through you, the scent of petrichor after a warm summer rain ].

trigger for miscarriage, terminal illness.