#bgstarter

Adelaide had found herself sitting in the garden, roughly half an hour after the eclipse, her thoughts diverting from her pregnancy to her betrothed, then to Helen and the rest of her family, the rest of her beloved Jagiellons. She sighed, her eyes trained upon a solitary tree in the back of the courtyard, her fingers tangling together in her lap; a nervous habit she did not grow out of. For most of the time, she was all but blind and deaf to the world around her, but when a figure appeared in her peripheral, the princess found herself speaking; “It was over so soon, was it not? I would have expected for the darkness to last, if only a moment longer. Now this light seems even more blinding.”

easily he could link the sudden darkness to hardships to come. an avid reader, antónio has come in contact with countless reports of eclipses preceding deaths, loses of power, invasions - a specific account, in a chronic he remembers reading years back, john of worcester connects the sun's disappearance to king henry's death in normandy. other writers throughout history have recorded the eclipse as cause for important deaths, such as that of charlesmagne's son, emperor louis. however clear the indicators of bad luck surrounding the emergency of darkness, however quickly and instinctively he turns to religion, antónio can't help but turn to goffredo malaterra instead.

— Truth be told, Natalya wasn’t terribly excited to be here when she arrived in Italy. She wasn’t quite sure why she needed to be present for negotiations between powers – negotiating was hardly her strong suit ( in fact, when it came to things Natalya wanted, it was often a case of her way or the highway ), and politics as a whole tended to bore her – she often found it better to leave these endeavours to her mother or her brother ( not that she was given much choice – it wasn’t as though anyone in the Russian courts trusted Natalya to navigate their relations with other powers, the fear that she would somehow make things much worse than they’d been to begin with no doubt plaguing them ). Nevertheless, her mother had insisted that Natalya and her fresh new fiancé ( who she was doing her very best to avoid ) come along for the trip to support their nation, though the very idea of such things made Natalya ill.

Of course, even she had to admit, the carnival was a nice touch. She’d visited Italy a few times in her youth and never cared much for it, but she could see the appeal now that her leash had been loosened ever so slightly so she could attempt to enjoy the festivities. Her family were no doubt off somewhere, scheming or colluding, as they were often want to do, but Natalya was determined to have a brief moment of reprieve before any real work began. While her family were all seemingly here to promote the betterment of Russia, Natalya had... ulterior motives. Her current goal was to do everything in her power to prevent her upcoming nuptials from going ahead – and though she may be no political strategist, she figured that someone here must be able to help her, in exchange for the right favours.

That, of course, was going to wait. Natalya had always rather enjoyed ice skating as a child ( Lord knows Russia, of all places, had enough frozen lakes in the winter to create the perfect environment for the sport ), but hadn’t participated in it in some time. Perhaps it was a remnant of her youth that she’d disentangled herself from – shedded away along with any innocence she’d once possessed, or perhaps she’d fallen one too many times and decided enough was enough and hung up the skates forever. Whatever the case, she figured there was no better way for her to find some peace and quiet and clear her head than by doing a few laps of the rink that had been set up as part of the carnival.

It had been a long time since Lucia had prayed to any deity above. She still attended mass, as she had to to keep up her facade, though you would have to be close by to hear that no sound came as her lips mimed the words to the lord’s prayer, that when hymns were sung, she did not lift her voice to the Lord. A part of her had turned her back on her beliefs. She did not believe in God, nor heaven, nor anything but the world they lived in now. Another part of her, the part that had been brought up in the way most Italian ladies were, refused to pray because she was angry with Him. After all these years, her rage had not ceased. Perhaps the blessings in her life, the husband she loved and the children that she adored, should have tempered the fire inside her. Instead, it only made her more determined to take action. To finally know what it was to hurt the House of God as she had been hurt. 

Though she did not come to church to worship, she found them an excellent place for reflection. For thinking. Her anxiety had calmed itself, and she no longer feared for her children as she once had. Things seemed to be calming, but she was no longer certain of their safety. She could not leave, not whilst there was still work to be done, but she had their safety to think of. Were they better here, under her protection, or should she return them to Italy, out of the way of Swiss dangers, but out of her sight, and perhaps into an entirely different set of perils. 

She studied a stained glass window, admiring idly how the light filtered through, painting the dusty chapel in reds, blues and greens. So lost in her thoughts was she that she did not look up as another entered, did not even realise she was no longer alone until their footsteps drew closer. “Are you here for answers too?” She asked, turning her gaze to the newcomer. “I must warn you, The Lord is not feeling particularly talkative. Though perhaps you will have more luck than I.” 

the darkness came with a soft whimper --- a sudden gasp from those around as the last bit of sunlight was covered. ahmad found himself to be a superstitious man only in moments when superstitions seemed warranted. ( and, with the fall of darkness around him, it seemed warranted. ) the sun and the moon followed exact courses, he knew this as well as anyone in the empire; what it meant, however, remained to be decided. he could not imagine it was anything good. 

all he could do was close his eyes and offer a prayer --- a sign of humility that he hoped would spare hindustan for a while longer. 

a minute passed. and then another. the darkness began to ebb away, and ahmad opened his eyes once more, looking to the nearest person. 

After watching pleasantries be exchanged and veiled threats circle the grand dining room, little more than a farce at play-acting, Louis had grown bored with the grandeur and pomp of it all. Those in attendance had joined the large retinue with likely enough poisons to fill their pockets to down a small horse with the lack of weapons leaving empty holes at one’s side. He could do little beyond rolling his eyes at the next burst of strained laughter and thus peeled away from the dining room, aiming for the ballroom next door. It was lined with tables filled with lush wines and elegant cheeses, a sampling of the finest from each country as a gesture of good faith. Louis plucked a few grapes from the nearest tray and skipped right past the French tables, instead sliding up to grab for a bottle of rich red wine gracing the Italian offerings. Once he had a large, admittedly far too much for a simple social gathering such as this, glass secured he glanced up at the sound of approach and offered a wry grin to the person before him. “Are you finding the current stand off as pleasant as I? Or have you come to catch but a moment’s breath beyond such crowded atmosphere?”