#projectthesinner

♡ - … My muse’s younger self [Read the Rest Here]

The shade was nice on days like this. The summer sun beat down on the stone pathways making them too hot for even an animal to walk on. The plants stretched their leaves and soaked up the sunlight, roots clinging to what little moisture they could find, lest the heat set them ablaze. I sat on the steps of the front porch, safely in the shade of the red tile awning.

This was an ancestral home, a villa the Volpe family possessed for generations, passed down to from one patriarch to the other. It was in my father’s possession, the only male born amongst five sisters. My father was paranoid about the family name dying out, so it was luck, or fate (as my father had said) that my mother bore two sons; myself and–

“Antonio,” I called out to my older brother.

Antonio, fourteen, tensed, rustling the bush he had been sneaking behind. He peaked over the greenery, with a guilty smile. He should be studying, not out playing or whatever teenagers did. Throw rocks in the sea, I guess?

“Massi~” My brother chirped, stepping through the bushes and onto the stone path. You know, like a normal person walked on. “What are you doing outside here by yourself?”

“Waiting for you.” I answered.

Antonio was dressed simply; a white shirt, sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and black slacks. He did not look like any nobleman’s son, and I knew exactly why.

“You were at Signore Forelli’s restaurant again, weren’t you?”

Antonio tensed. I could see his hands firm up, his back straightening, teeth clenched. As quickly as he tensed, he relaxed, or at least pretended to, shoulders lowering.

“What?” He chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I would never–”

“There is flour on your pants.” I noted, pointing to the light dusting of white along the outer side of his right thigh. I met my brother’s eye. He was wavering. Was he nervous? Guilty? Honestly, I had no idea. I didn’t really care.

“Father said–” I began but Antonio interrupted me.

“Yes, yes, a chef is no occupation for a Volpe.” Antonio finished, sneering. He strode towards me, taking a seat next to me. “You know, we don’t always need to do what father says.”

I blinked, finding the statement hard to believe. It was expected of Antonio, seeing as he disobeyed our father on a daily basis, always running off after school to one of the many restaurants so he could see the chefs at work, preparing for the dinner rush. Signore Forelli was the most accommodating to Antonio’s curiosity, even allowing him into the kitchen and assisting with preparing vegetables and breads. Antonio had invited me before, but why would I accept? Father said the business of chefs were for commoners and we needed to protect the family name.

We stared at one another in silence, the distant cries of the seagulls could be heard all the way from the Amalfi cliffside.

“Massi,” My brother shifted closer, leaning down to be at eye level. “Dad wants what’s best for the family, not really what’s best for us. Do you understand? We can be more than just Volpe, we can forge our own fate, be who we want to be.”

I didn’t bother responding. There was no proper answer for this. Antonio was wrong. We did not choose our own destinies. Fate was designated at birth. We were born as noblemen and so that is what we were. That is what father said and father was the patriarch, the one in charge. Why question him?

Antonio sighed, giving me a smile. He ruffled my hair before wrapping his arm around my shoulder and giving me a light squeeze.

yeah its np! here u go :3

i had a lot of fun drawing them! and this is my first time i ever drew a cherub i hope this is okay! (: