In fair Verona, our tale begins with SANTINO GALLO, who is TWENTY-SEVEN years old. He is often called SEBASTIAN by the MONTAGUES and works as their SOLDIER. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.
TW: murder, death & grieving
One moment his parents were there and the next, they disappeared â as INTANGIBLE as the ghosts that he had conjured up in their absence. It was as quick and as bright as a shooting star, the one moment where his family was truly together. One would think that waking up the next morning would dash any prospect of waking up with hope for the new day â for one Gallo it did, and for the other the mere thought was impossible. Santino held onto the belief that they must have known that their children were SURVIVORS, that they would come out unscathed from the trials that was bound to fall upon two orphaned twins. No matter the misfortune that befell them, Santino still held onto hope until it almost burned him with his desperation. His hope began to sour, but still, he clung to it with FEROCITY as the lessons Veronaâs streets taught him were much more unforgiving than any damage neglectful parenting could have wrought. Ever the good brother, he hid the truth from Valentina for as long as he could, kept her in the dark as to the lengths that he would go to protect her as well as himself. In his eyes, Valentina afforded the world no mercy and so he wished to have mercy upon it for both their sakes; a foolâs gambit if ever there was one.
To show KINDNESS to a man condemned is to condemn yourself in the fair city of Verona. Santino, ever the tender soul, simply wanted to offer the man shelter and reassurance â unsuspecting of the fact that the man had just narrowly escaped the wrath of the Montagues. How was he supposed to know that the man had been skimming off of the Montagueâs profits and pocketing a couple of grams too? However, when administering justice, the Montague gang does not take into account innocent bystanders, because in their eyes, there is no such thing as innocent. Valentina had entered into the room just as Santino had made his peace with God while a gun was cocked to his temple, the side of his face covered in the blood of the man who he had been stupid enough to take mercy upon while the body lay prostrate at his feet. It was her clever thinking that saved them both, and when he emerged hours later, both were in the employment of the Montagues, with Santinoâs SOUL thrown into the bargain. They did not care whether or not he belonged, for his sister did, a bright and shining jewel they wanted to keep for themselves, and they could not have her without her twin.
The violence changed him; how could it not? To have the blood of others cover his hands often sent him into throes of despair and yet time after time he made peace with it â because he had to. For his sake. For his sisterâs sake. He made it into a MANTRA that he hoped would sustain him, and he locked that ruined part away from her as best he could, for it was neither her fault nor her cross to bear. Yet she, too, locked things away, and before he knew it they were more distant than they ever had been. She, with all her secrets, and he, with all his half-hidden misery. The day he got the call from Roman Montague that something was happening in the Cathedral, he searched for her, called her a dozen times before deciding he had to leave without her, try to offset the wrath the Montagues would have at her lack of response. He could not have known the HORROR that awaited him, for none of them could, in the end. When her body was unveiled, when her blood pooled beneath her feet, that was when the world and life itself shattered one last time.
His memories after that moment are FRAGMENTED. Somehow, they kept him from moving toward her, from helping, and instead Santino was forced to watch as everyone else stood by as well. As one by one, the Capulets proved their loyalty by dipping their hands into Valentinaâs blood. He noted each of their faces and forced himself not to forget, and then, as the last of her life left her body, he was at last allowed to hold her. To watch as the vibrancy that had held him together leaked from her face, as her eyes went glassy and dull. He held her for hours after, until they had to pull her from his arms by force, until he was SCREAMING, clawing, biting at anyone who tried to pry her away. His life still feels fragmented, somehow, like everything hinged on that exact moment. He was not supposed to outlive Valentina. It was he who always walked around half-dead, and she who had always been filled with light and laughter, even in her darkness. Now he wonders at the world as it keeps spinning, at the Montagues as they pick up their pieces and move on, at the city who damned her as surely as his own actions had. Who will suffer for his RETRIBUTION? The list is long, with himself at the very top, and the few who are free of his blame would do well to stay out of his way.
VALENTINA GALLO: Twin sister. It had been the two of them against the word for as long as he can remember â and his memory is long and often drifting. Think of anything that needs two parts to work, that cannot function when absent something vital: that is the analogy for him and Valentina. She burned so brightly against his shadow, and now the warmth has gone, the light fading, turning his eyes blind and his hands freezing. The loss of her hollows him out, a shell of a man with nothing to show for it. They have not merely killed Valentina Gallo. Theyâve killed Santino in the process. His horror and rage at what has been done is matched only by the anger he feels toward her, for never telling him the truth about who she was, for lying until the day she died to keep a secret he never wouldâve told anyone. Was it to protect him? Or was it merely to show off? He can never ask, and she can never answer, but he can find out who assigned her to do it. Whoever gave the order is as guilty as she, and when he finds them, he doesnât know if heâll kill them or collapse at their feet and beg them to end him the same way.
MARCELO ROSSO & BRIELLE KING: Antagonist & Safe Haven. Heaven and hell on his shoulders, in the same office as him, breathing the same air. Marcelo was close with Valentina, and itâs given them a weird sense of cease-fire, but he knows it wonât last. Itâs only a matter of time before he misses some imaginary goal post, before he gives Marcelo an excuse to turn on him, teeth sinking right back into the scars theyâve already left. Itâs only Brielle that keeps them from snarling at each other now, Brielle who comes every day to see if heâs eating, who stands in front of Santino and begs for more time, heâs still healing. He canât hide behind her forever, but it feels nice to try, and so far, Marcelo has allowed it. Their tentative silence is precarious, and one thing could send it over the edge somehow, but for now, they remain⌠stable. Thatâs the best that anyone can hope for. Still, itâs not hard to look at them and be reminded of what he should be. To think that perhaps if he were as violent, if he embraced his darkness as they do, then he would not have lost so heavily. Yet Santino also looks at Brielle, with her grace and her softness, and wonders if itâs those things that make her able to bear such unending tragedy. Who is he following, really? Who holds his leash? For he can feel the collar âround his neck as a brand, and it is beginning to suffocate him.
MAEVE PETRE: Traitor. There were so many times when he thought Maeve was the exception to the rule. The person who could shrug off what Verona had become and make something better from it, for she had reached across the Adige so many times, had she not? Yet doubt curdled in him from the moment he could think again, after Valentinaâs death â from the moment he could wonder who started the Capulets watching her. Who, after all, was a Capulet welcome in his home? Who did he talk of his sister to (never by name, always by sorella, but it wouldnât be hard to see her picture on the mantle, would it?) with such love and affection? And who, in the end, could have been the one to turn that around and use it against him? He has no proof, of course, not even a whisper of it, but if Valentina was an obvious spy than Maeve, to him, is an obvious traitor, too. Not to her people, but to him, to the fragile peace they passed back and forth between them. He doesnât need proof, not with his hands shaking and rage climbing through his veins. No, if he finds Maeve, he will hurt her anyway, just because she can, and tell her that sheâs made him this way. That those people she loves, her beloved Papa and whoever else, have curdled anything bright and hopeful in his chest. He will crush her if he can, and he will no longer regret it.
TOMAS SABELLO: Disappointment. He doesnât know how this came to be, these clandestine meetings at the Castelvecchio bridge â his companionâs features soft and free beneath the stars, free of their usual facade that he seems to always wear. It happened one drunken night where stranger talked to stranger and the sun rose, but their hands didnât part. He remembers that feeling, the way he could look at Tomas and see a thousand things under the surface of him, but now, having watched him turn away from Valentina and toward Celeste when his soul was begging for someone to help, he canât quite get that image out of his mind. He is still that something dark that Santino wished to sink into, still that something light that was once so beloved, but he smells like smoke and tastes like poison, too. Sometimes your relationship to others is defined by what they did when you needed them, and when he needed Tomas, he chose someone else. Whether that was the right choice doesnât really matter. They are both monsters now, both sullied by this and a thousand other things, and when Tomas finds his eyes in a crowd, Santino is the one who turns away.
Santino is portrayed by STEPHEN JAMES and was written by ROSEY & ROGUE. He is currently TAKEN by ALYX.
