Post by Nireva Hale on Jul 16, 2013 21:42:06 GMT -5
Starfire, light up his unholy words!
Prophecy kept by the ancients! And then reveal the last fate of all!
The world needs to know!
Presenze insane! Vane verita'..! Spettri d'arcani mondi!
Cercano al di la'..!
______________________________Rhapsody Of Fire - "Crystal Moonlight"
"Hey, Niri..." Jenna sighed quietly as her hand lazily stroked the small of Nireva's back. Between her girlfriend's studies and volunteer work at the Jung Facility, the time the couple were able to spend together had grown infuriatingly scarce. However, when they were together, neither one of them wasted a moment. Dressed only from the waist down to help mitigate the California heat, the two women lounged on the bed, facing opposite directions. Sex was, as ever, an option but, up to now, neither of them had managed to summon the inclination to make good on the desire. Jenna, for one, simply wanted to talk. "When we first slept together..."
"Yeah?"
Nireva's head didn't move from where it lay, resting on her pillow as she gazed through the window. It wasn't often that Jenna was struck with the mood to be reminiscent but, with the day being in the midst of summer and unusually hot even by California's standards, the normal activities of many people were put on hold as they fought against the heat. "...I asked about these scars on your back." Now that Nireva had deemed Jenna worthy enough to learn the truth behind her existence, she had anticipated the focus of conversation shifting towards even one of the lies she'd told during the early days of their relationship. If anything, she was surprised it had taken this long. "They're, uh... not from surgery, are they?"
"Nope." Now that her girlfriend had joined the select fraternity of people who had learned of her secret, Nireva once again found herself in the position where she would have to field questions about her past; the centuries which had passed her by up to this point. "I was only half-lying. They're not from surgery, but I did get them as a kid..."
For nearly twenty years, a colossal building project had turned the banks of the Arno into a bustling hive of activity. Commissioned by the legendarily wealthy Medici family to serve as the working offices of the Florentine magistrates, the rising buildings had created a public thoroughfare between them; affording the pedestrians a path from the riverside to a variety of locations deeper in the city and, with the two wings now nearing their completion, the new landmark towered almost a hundred feet above all who passed between them.
Due to its immense size, many Florentines - both those who passed by it and those involved in the construction - had taken to calling it a palace. It probably hadn't been the Medici's aim to call the Uffizi a palace but, once the public opinion had sufficiently snowballed, there was little they could do to prevent the moniker from sticking.
At a little past one in the afternoon, many of the people present were engaged in some form of work. Young men of various shapes and sizes clutched satchels and sacks over their shoulders as they picked a route through the crowd, hoping to get their cargo to its destination before they were set upon by the undesirable elements of the city everyone knew to exist.
For larger loads, more muscular men - in the rugged, simplistic clothing befitting farmhands or other such occupations - carefully led a horse-drawn cart along the street, watching for any unforseen obstacles. They were, after all, cutting through what was effectively a building site and, while the exterior of the Uffizi was mostly devoid of craftsmen, it wasn't exactly encouraged for the public to walk so close to an incomplete building.
Of course, that didn't stop them and, with a need to keep the peace, the city guards had simply stretched their number to compensate. Announcements had been posted across the city stating the heightened potential for danger that the "Palazzo degli Uffizi" possessed and, with the knowledge in the public consciousness, the men and women of Florence were left to decide for themselves whether they should sacrifice a little bit of safety for the convenience of an expedited trip.
"Mamma!" Being a new building on the verge of completion, the Palazzo was already no stranger to onlookers. To sate their curiosity, many simply peered through one of the ground floor windows and peered at the opulence which lay within.
Many people in the city weren't in possession of wealth even comparable to the Medici and, as such, were often taken aback by just how much luxury they could see by looking through a simple window. The hallway was lined with decorative frescoes and paintings, while the furniture was, to many minds, fit even for the Papacy.
"Mamma, guarda!!" Lucia Cammeresi was one such person. Being only ten years old, she was still very much gripped by the wonder of youth; a state of being in which all aspects of the unfamiliar were in some way special. Having never set foot outside the city, there was a world of sights and stories which the adults embellished to impress children like her. Just to see a glimpse of such things was enough to cause her eyes to light up.
Even with the street partially shrouded from the sunlight by the Palazzo's opposite wing, Lucia could see the artwork which lay within. While she had seen her fair share of pictures before - being, as they were, a mainstay of just about every church and important building in Italy - it was how they were presented which impressed her the most. Pointing a finger at the one closest to where she stood, she glanced over her shoulder and waited for her mother to approach.
"Le cornici sono realizzate in oro!", she announced with a grin. To her, gold was a legendary precious metal; one held only by the wealthiest of kings and worn by the most beautiful and virtuous of princesses. Gold - at least in quantities large enough to forge a picture frame - had no place amongst the general citizenry, which served to make its presence all the more unusual. She didn't understand that the building was commissioned and paid for by a member of the wealthiest banking families in Italy, if not the whole of western Europe.
Although it was unusual for a family to embark on a grocery trip in the middle of the week, the sudden lack of various essentials at the Cammeresi family home had necessitated the outing. While her father was hard at work, Lucia's mother had been left with the duty and, with no desire to leave her unattended, had brought her daughter along.
Shopping for food was one of the things Lucia was expected to learn for later life; when she would hopefully marry an attractive man and begin the arduous and somewhat stressful task of raising a family of her own. Of course, innocence was protecting her from the underlying reasons why she was accompanying her mother on shopping trips and helping out with the household chores and, until she hit her mid-teens, she would hopefully continue to see it as a fun way to get closer to the woman who had given her the gift of life.
And, at the age of ten, she was very much a growing girl. "Ho fame, Mamma...", she commented, abruptly diverting the subject away from her discovery. "Posso avere una mela?"