Francesco Trapattoni

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑

francesco is a 32-year-old fae who used to work for the court of crirtha and personally requested to improve the town of destarin as the conurbation works toward possible advance. never mind that the thought of conflict makes him sick. surely that will not be an issue.

As far as the Trapattoni family can recall, they had always worked for the royal court of Crirtha through wars and periods of dysentery simply because they were too joyful and solar for anyone to wish them harm. The second born son to Mariella and Gianpietro Trapattoni, Francesco was taught exactly as his brother was, caring for trees, topiaries, flower beds and lawns alike. The Royal Estate was so large that it could not have been managed by just one nymph and they all had their duties and favored areas of work. His parents cared for the trees, their younger sister who cared more for laying down and low elected the lawn as her line of work, which left only the dreaded topiaries and delightful beds of flowers for the two brothers.

Though Francesco was stubborn by nature, his brother was given the task of embellishing the gardens while he was tasked instead with producing innovative, eye-catching topiaries for the court. And for a while, this was precisely what he did. Francesco made do with what he was given. The nobility was delighted with the scenes depicted with leaves in the colorful and carefully trimmed aisles of the royal gardens.

But the gardener’s energy withered every day he spent in his greenhouse selecting essences of trees when he should have been hybridizing flowers, creating new types of roses, running fingertips along the delicate hem of peonies. With his parents’ blessing and his majesty’s approval, he submitted his application to the city of Destarin when the news reached his ear that they required a seasoned nymph to care for the greenery there. He certainly had experience, and it was a matter of life and death that he took on more duties than the ones assigned to him by fate.

WHAT ARE YOU...?

species: dark fae. weaknesses: he reacts poorly / may die from exposure to iron, any chemical harmful to plants, a long span of harsh weather / low sunlight, fire. strengths: he can make flower bloom, communicate through plants, manipulate pollen’s effects, he has a set of honeybee-like wings in his back though they don’t allow him to do much more than hover over a puddle. physical description: often surrounded by a cloud of pollen, francesco has flowers blooming in his hair. like other nymphs, he may be described as objectively beautiful and whimsical. his physiology is globally like a human’s. additional info: he is not comfortable with the sight of blood..

Well, it was always blank, but not everything was gone. General knowledge was still up there, and all he could imagine was that he hadn't been around too much greenery in his time. Internally, he balked at having to spend as much time in the sun as plants needed - perhaps that had something to do with it.

"Oh, I already have a job," he said, smiling and not moving from where he stood. "But I would like some company. Whether it be this evening, or the morning--" His head tilted, lips millimeters from the other's jawline. "Or both?"

Stepping away from the stall with their food she responded on her own family. "Perhaps your brother enjoys those responsibilities? I enjoy leading my sisters, relying on them and having their faith in me is a great privilege," she insisted of Lilith and Rae. "I don't think I could handle only writing with them, I always thought Rae might leave, she is very bonded with her mother's culture, but as she is not drow I think she worries they may shun her." Maybe Evelyn was wrong but it was something she had thought for some time. "Lilith is inclined to stay as close to us as possible. In many ways we're all quite like our biological mother's, Lilith sees us as a coven maybe, like she would have had if she were born a witch as her mother was. I am the only one whose heritage does not loan itself to community maybe. Perhaps why I love Destarin so much, my mother was saved by it, so it is my family as much as my sisters are."

Evelyn spun chopsticks within her soup absentmindedly, forgetting perhaps that Francesco may not have ever needed to use them. She wandered until they were near the tables of games, sitting down on one of the free stone chairs, and placing her food on the stone table in front of her. "Should I speak like a lady?" she asked him with a laugh, scolding at her blunt phrasing. "I do not expect you would flatter a hole in a wall if that lessens the harsh nature of what I said, you're surrounded by beauty all day, I imagine you're quite picky." She was not sure what to make of him calling her a beautiful woman, mostly feeling the compliment was soft enough that it continued to insist upon friendship and as she had told him, she always found her way to it eventually.

"Are they not one in the same? You and your hopefulness?" she asked, the chopsticks picking up a mix of beef and noodles that she placed between her lips, some of the soup itself dripping down the bold red of her lips, Evelyn catching it with the edge of her index finger. It gave her the chance to look away. She had spoken with her sisters about how reckless her words with Francesco had been at the faire, how ashamed she was of showing her hand so publicly. Evelyn needed to do better at schooling her thoughts and her feelings, and usually she didn't need to consciously think to do that, but around him it had been decidedly harder. "I know it might not seem it but I am hopeful for this town as well, and while I can avoid situations where I might be inclined to act upon a need to protect you, I cannot avoid the need itself," she admitted, gaze looking down upon the food within her bowl.

He nodded. "I miss them every day that the gods make. To the nymph, his family was as essential as water, the sun, or the nutrients in the soil. What would he have done without them ? If not for them, where would he have been right now ?

However, it was difficult to live away in his mind's vision of home when Evelyn seemed to open up about Destarin and why it mattered so much to her. He had asked her to show him why she cared so much about a place he had deemed unlawful and disorderly. "You are in debt to Destarin, it seems then." Because it saved her mother, just the way it was. He could envision why she , would refuse to see it changed.

"I wish I could find a way to assure you I don't mean any harm to this place, but... I think I'm almost envious here. Crirtha is home but I don't know if I would ever consider it family," because Crirtha was made of rules and codes and lines of conduct. It was beautiful but flawlessness had a cost and the nymph knew damn well that he wasn't all that mad to be here right now, listening to her as she exposed her love for a whole different sort of way of life.

With a puzzled look at the sticks in his hands, then an even more interrogating one as she somehow managed to grab onto her food with them, Francesco figured that perhaps this was some sort of fork with only two... Spikes.

While he attempted to stab his noodles with it, he missed Evelyn's torment, or rather failed to notice that she was looking the other way "I suppose my hopefulness could be replaced by something more grim... Me... I'm wondering how much of me must have changed before I stop being... Me. Surely one piece of myself must not be enough." It was a terrifying thought.

"Evelyn. Do you wish for me not to apply for governance?" The thought troubled him. He could understand her concerns, her worries, but what were the odds of him even being elected to office. "Or are you worried that I will cause your ... Home harm ?"

She had meant food was an option for his response rather than the naming of specific spices. Evelyn certainly intended to get them food, it was part of him observing the town she felt. "I certainly don't think you're trying to impress me," she promised him as she walked them in the direction of one of the stalls, she was inclined to the spicy huo guo but she was unsure if someone such as Francesco could handle so much heat to his dish and instead opted for niu rou mian, a beef noodle soup. "I also don't think you're arrogant, I think you are quite the opposite of arrogant actually. Arrogant men don't hear anything but their arrogance."

Evelyn's eyes clarified the language of the stall before she placed an order for the both of them with a young woman, her species indiscernible from her appearance, in the language of the establishment. It was very obviously not perfect but enough for the girl to nod and ask for the cost, quickly getting to work making their soups. "Many men would flatter a hole in a wall," she responded as to whether or not other's flattered her. "And women and nonbinary or genderfluid people are far more selective, any I have found beautiful have always far more desired friendship, it takes me a moment but I find my way to the friendship. In truth though, I don't think many people flatter me," she reasoned, unable to recall anyone but Asvari complimenting her and the man needed a bed and some food, she was sure he too would have complimented a hole in a wall if it could have had a pillow and a bed inside. "It seems to only bother me with you though."

He always felt arrogant, as if having learned to be self-confident was considerably similar to being full of himself. It was something that worried him, it's true. He was often still in the habit of going back on his words to pander to personalities sharper than his own.

But while it was undeniable that this woman had a character all her own, she had managed to put him at ease. He found her as interesting as she was sublime. It certainly helped too that he found her rather amusing. "A hole in the... Oh no." He couldn't remain stoic and with a false air of shock on his face, he looked at her then. "Evelyn. What words in the mouth of a beautiful woman," the adoring words clashed with his humorous tone, though he hoped she'd notice he wasn't truly shocked.

"In charge of trees? Nothing else?" Francesco looked and acted too refined for his job to have been so bland but from her mother's memories shared with her she supposed it was probably still a valuable job, even if bland. "Perhaps it helps you feel at home?"

Evelyn felt his nudge and only moved so much as the gesture made her, trying to remain at least moderately stoic in front of strange faces. She'd already shown how emotional she could become at the faire around him and she did not wish for it to become some known element of her. "Then I will share when you show me."

"Food was also an option," she answered, though she had nodded when he described specific spices and scents. "They have some delicious food at the market, we'll grab something before we sit," Evelyn suggested as they entered the space of the market place within the district, various vendors sitting on the ground with their cookery in front of them, while others had stall fronts or carts. The place was busy with children playing, some stealing from pockets or from the vendors themselves, while an array of stone tables with various games was to one side, light streaming down over the players faces, some peaceful while others argued, and many laughed.

Her comment brought a smile on his face. Food was an option, but... Well neither of them needed to eat to survive and he often forgot to indulge in those sorts of simple pleasures. Instead, he would analyse and intellectualize everything, including their walk. "You must think I'm a rather strange man, or worse, an arrogant one. Or perhaps that I'm trying to impress you. I suppose the latter isn't false though you must be used to receive flattery from men," because he could see that, voluptuous as she was. She had the body of a deity and though her horns gave a whole new spirit to that thought, Francesco would have liked to see someone try and deny her beauty.

It was rather upsetting to see children reduced to thievery, but that didn't seem to shock anyone, and so he kept his mouth shut. Perhaps Evelyn would be able to explain. "If you ever feel like you have to do something," he had no clue what she meant by that, "I don't want to be the one stopping you. You should be yourself around me. I enjoy your company Evelyn, all of it."

"I can flatter you and enjoy your blush too," Evelyn answered, watching his cheeks become rosey. Usually her insistence waned when people lacked any sort of investment in her advances but she liked speaking with Francesco and it was far harder to subdue her nature when she saw potential, Francesco had refuted a set of advances but not her advances as a whole, so far as she had perceived anyway. "Though I could stop if you would like," she offered, fingers that were curled around his arm gently rubbing the fabric of her coat as they began to walk, eyes moving along his jawline.

"Where do you enjoy best in Laras?" she asked him, presuming he had a favourite spot beyond his gardens. The edge of the district had beautiful citrus fruits sold by the waters, many of the temples had their own gardens and ponds that were quite pretty, and local restaurants beyond just the one they had gone to together always sold delicious foods. "We should make the tours regular, perhaps you might even show me some place you have discovered and I will pretend to have not roamed it already."

"Now don't you dare stop complimenting me. I can assure you that your attention is not lost on me," though given the nature of their first couple of conversations, he was more cautious than he normally would have been, Francesco enjoyed the woman's company. She kept him on his toes, which didn't happen often.

"My favorite place..." He sighed, getting into his thoughts. There were many. The street he lived in was one. He had conversed with nearly all of its inhabitants and found them entirely pleasant. It remained to be said whether they were honest or polite, but he had had a nice few encounters there. But was that his favorite, when the nymph craved, above all, a connection with nature? "The orchard I think... It's quite funny, considering..." Well, he supposed he could tell her why he had left Crirtha. "I used to be in charge of trees, a tiring and tedious occupation but now that I'm here, I'm rather fond of them," it had to do, he was sure, with the fact that he wasn't responsible for them.

She offered they went on more walks and he nudged her with his shoulder. "That sounds like a fantastic idea though you can spare me the lies. I'll gladly hear your thoughts on my favorite spots."

"I can assure you nothing I was up to was even remotely interesting," Zelda said, as she walked back towards the kitchen with him. A nice midday treat and conversation would do her well - as much as she loved her parents, they didn't share much in common nowadays, since she's been in the city for so long. "Sleeping in and reading in a hammock was about it."

Embracing her with all his friendship, he smiled wider when she kissed him on the cheek, returning the favor. "I could try growing some here, or... hybridizing some. I'm sure they're splendid."

Despite the mud on his shoes his waist coat seemed clean, as did the flowers surrounding his head. Half the time Evelyn found leaves or bits of fabric she had accidentally swiped with her horns on them. He wondered if anything ever got caught in his flowers, or if it made brushing his hair as difficult as her own horns made it for her. "Well I think you look quite nice for a stroll," she complimented. "I am just obviously not ready to concede on seducing you so I had to pick something appropriate for seduction," she added, part joke and part confession.

It's never easy to admit that you've done something wrong, and Francesco looked down for a moment as he searched for the right words to communicate his change of heart. ‘I suppose I've spoken with the neighbours,’ he said, with a furtive glance at the woman on his arm. Neighbours who, it's true, appreciated waking up to the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle in the air, rather than that of a city that lived day and night. Neighbours who, however, had told him that they needed a vegetable garden or an orchard much more than they needed beautifully trimmed hedges.

His cheeks flushed with her confession, Francesco looked down again, pursing his lips to hide his smile as best he could. He couldn't tell if she was joking or if she really wanted to continue to charm him. "I can never tell whether you like flattering me, or whether you simply love to watch me blush." Ever since their meeting at the Strawberry Moon Festival, he had not stopped thinking about her, even more vividly than after her visit to the garden. The way she had spoken to him had stirred his emotions, and although things had calmed down since then, her vision kept him constantly occupied. If he was to become a notable of the city, he would have to know more about the place. She seemed to know everything about it, and he couldn't wait for her to give him a glimpse of the world through her eyes.

Frankly, though, one could take a look at his pale skin and make enough of an assumption that he didn't get much sun.

He couldn't help the pang of jealousy at the other also being new to the town, yet being able to afford a place like this so soon. Tennyson briefly considered some other sort of job, something that kept him out at night for some coin under the table. But he was brought out of those thoughts by Francesco's explanation of the plant life, and he politely nodded along. "Of course," he said - silly him, of course he knew about vines that crawled upwards! How could he have forgotten?

Tennyson had shifted his weight onto his other leg, conveniently placing himself closer to the other's side as he gestured up to the plants. "I don't think I've ever been here before, so there's been quite a lot to see," he answered, taking a long sip of his wine, lest it be forgotten in his hand. "I'm afraid I am quite... bored, I'll admit. Haven't found enough to do yet." He innocently shrugged. "Perhaps my luck is changing."

He felt him drawing nearer as he turned his attention to the St John's wort and wisteria that adorned the beams and walls of his home, curling up along the frame to insulate it from the summer heat. His long, slender fingers caressing the fabric of leaves and the entanglement of fine branches, he had somewhat neglected the young man, who professed to be sinking into boredom.

Had he promised to be entertaining? Or anything other than a drink, and perhaps shelter for the night? His gaze left the vegetation behind, and he froze as he realized that he was much closer than he had imagined. Finally, his fingers left the stems and caressed the roots of his brown hair, as he wondered what would morning be made of. ‘Tennyson,’ that was indeed his name. ‘What can I do to save you from boredom? Is it a job that you seek or something else entirely?’