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video — un: vast & furious.
( Last Emilia di Carlo was seen, she rode a thestral into the dark of night, with flowers burning in her hair and fury blazing in her eyes. Tonight, she looks somber and composed, her resolve no less steely for it. She sits at her desk, hair half braided into a coronet and the other half down in loose waves.
She's dressed practically, unlike when they're conforming to the city's fashions. )
I've gathered some donations from the nobility.
( Influence with the gentry (and their connections) helps, as does rich guilt. Emilia still takes great issue with everyone else being left to fend for themselves during the siege, but she decided to channel that anger into something productive. People need resources, not the consequences of her temper.
She'll need remember to do so on behalf of Vannozza. The siege doesn't, unfortunately, put an end to why they're here. )
I invite anyone that would like to help with its distribution to join me. Furthermore —
( Her brow furrows at the sudden commotion outside. The desk is close enough to the balcony that anyone who's decided to listen in is privy, as well. Much like the chimney debacle, really, except these are no protesters. No, these are two gentlemen suitors. And they bring ... poetry?
It would seem harrowing experiences turn already insensible men into impulsive brutes. Impulsivity further prompted by the fact Emilia, catch of the season, has yet to accept any offer. She's betrothed to someone else, in truth. Though at the moment, she'd like to eschew the presence of any and all men.
Forever.
The clearing of a throat: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day — "
"Look around, you complete and utter toadstool. It is far from summer, and you cannot propose when I intend to do so."
"The lady will not marry you. I am the one she favors — "
"No, I shall be her heart's truest desire in the end."
"Dear man, you know little of desire, if all rumors prove true."
"You besmirch my character! There is only one way to solve this — "
"Yes. Y e s - !"
"We duel at dawn!"
Emilia closes her eyes.
Draws in a deep breath. Prays to the goddess of strength and reasoning: may she keep a moon daughter from committing any violence this evening. )
You'll excuse me.
( Before she ends the transmission, a third unaffiliated voice can be heard, wailing in the distance, "I'm so alone." )
( ooc: this post is for their network only, but the commotion outside is, of course, free game for anyone to catch wind of.
this post is open all month. there's no such thing as too late.)
She's dressed practically, unlike when they're conforming to the city's fashions. )
I've gathered some donations from the nobility.
( Influence with the gentry (and their connections) helps, as does rich guilt. Emilia still takes great issue with everyone else being left to fend for themselves during the siege, but she decided to channel that anger into something productive. People need resources, not the consequences of her temper.
She'll need remember to do so on behalf of Vannozza. The siege doesn't, unfortunately, put an end to why they're here. )
I invite anyone that would like to help with its distribution to join me. Furthermore —
( Her brow furrows at the sudden commotion outside. The desk is close enough to the balcony that anyone who's decided to listen in is privy, as well. Much like the chimney debacle, really, except these are no protesters. No, these are two gentlemen suitors. And they bring ... poetry?
It would seem harrowing experiences turn already insensible men into impulsive brutes. Impulsivity further prompted by the fact Emilia, catch of the season, has yet to accept any offer. She's betrothed to someone else, in truth. Though at the moment, she'd like to eschew the presence of any and all men.
Forever.
The clearing of a throat: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day — "
"Look around, you complete and utter toadstool. It is far from summer, and you cannot propose when I intend to do so."
"The lady will not marry you. I am the one she favors — "
"No, I shall be her heart's truest desire in the end."
"Dear man, you know little of desire, if all rumors prove true."
"You besmirch my character! There is only one way to solve this — "
"Yes. Y e s - !"
"We duel at dawn!"
Emilia closes her eyes.
Draws in a deep breath. Prays to the goddess of strength and reasoning: may she keep a moon daughter from committing any violence this evening. )
You'll excuse me.
( Before she ends the transmission, a third unaffiliated voice can be heard, wailing in the distance, "I'm so alone." )
( ooc: this post is for their network only, but the commotion outside is, of course, free game for anyone to catch wind of.
this post is open all month. there's no such thing as too late.)
no subject
Once they've reached the inside of the palace proper, Emilia finds a bench to sit down on. The corner itself is quiet enough that they shouldn't be disturbed, but she means to keep an eye out regardless. ) Will you tell me more about it? This home of yours.
( This supercalifragilistic California of his. )
no subject
[regardless, when Emilia sits down, so does he, his expression for what it is taking on a more serious note as he plops down next to her. (=_=) where to start, to tell her about California?]
Okay, well, uh. I live in a city called San Francisco, on the coast. It's, like, nice spring-ish temperatures there, year-round -- [hence why all he has is a short-sleeved shirt and his holey skinny jeans] -- so all this cold? Kind of killing me. I was so not built for this. [yikes. (x_x)]
no subject
her eyes all but light up at having someone who Understands. )
I haven't gotten used to it myself. We are a summery people in my city of Palermo. The air was always sea-kissed, and the sun burned bright. ( she'll always lean toward that warmth, so learning that the seven circles is a land of always-winter...
well. she doesn't know how she's going to fare, once she and wrath find their way back to his city of ice. )
It was even colder in Sa-Hareth, if you can believe it. You wouldn't have liked it. ( even beyond, y'know, all the undead. )
no subject
[more seriously, though, Emilia gets a pleased little (^_^) from Wrench, as she talks about home. it makes him that much more homesick for his own, though, so the smile under the mask that it's picking up on to translate is a bittersweet one. he misses the beach and the sun and Marcus and -- ]
Wait, colder? [(O_o)] Yeah, no thanks for real. [(x_x)]
[though, speaking of] Has anyone ever tried finding a map of this place? [a beat] I mean, like, I know the goal is -- [behold, his sudden mock booming voice and quotey face ("_")] -- go eaaaaaaast or whatever, but. [but he wonders, now, what the rest of the world looks like]
no subject
She likes the way he thinks. )
I'd be curious to know this myself.
( In general, she's invested in learning how they as a group can sustain themselves independently. To not have to rely on those who would move them as chess pieces across a blood board. Taravast has been a good opportunity in terms of gathering coin, but that's not all they'll need. )
When I first arrived, I was told heading east was our only ticket home. I didn't trust it. I still don't. But sometimes it feels like all we have are terrible choices. ( And among them, they must choose the one less so. )
no subject
[maybe a map would provide some insight. somehow]