Lucio's Life
Jan 7, 2017 17:45:24 GMT
Post by Mittens on Jan 7, 2017 17:45:24 GMT
[So, I want to explore some of Lucio's backstory and his family and don't want to forcibly change the subject in the RP. So y'all are gonna get intermittent fanfics about it. Consider them canon for Lucio. ]
Lucio, age twoish, was fast asleep in his room. It was early evening in late Spring, and his day had been great! He had seen a cow, and a cat, and a dog or two! He couldn't wait for the next day now.
In the main room of the villa, however, the mood was different. Much different. Three people were there, two sitting and one standing. The standing one was wearing a black shirt and trousers, and had a a glass of wine in his hand. His hair was jet-black with a few streaks of grey, fairly long and curly, and he had a matching beard, although it was neatly trimmed. His eyes were a dark green, like a storm-tossed sea or a pine tree in mid-winter. He swilled his glass before taking a drink.
"That was a very nice eulogy, Mario." One of the sitting pair said. She was in a black dress, and her brown hair was neatly cropped. Her eyes, the exact colour of her hair, were reddish. She had a small smile on her face as she addressed the standing one. "I think I recognised some of the lines; was it Shakespeare?"
"Yeah. Macbeth. It was her favourite play." On closer inspection, the standing man's eyes were red as well. "Well, only some of them. I wrote the rest myself."
"I never realised you were so eloquent." the woman joked.
"Rosa, I never had a reason to be around you plebs." he softly quipped back. Both of them had smiles on their faces. The final person, sitting next to Rosa, let out a noise that was half-sob, half-laugh. His head had been in his hands, but he wiped his eyes and straightened up, before asking the question that had been on everyone's minds;
"What about little Lucio?"
"How is he doing, Giovanni?" Mario asked gently.
"He's... he's upstairs, fast asleep. He had a good day, I think."
"It was really kind of your cousin to look after him for the day, Mario. You must send her our thanks."
Mario smiled again before responding; "Honestly, Rosa, I think Annaria enjoyed it. Remember that she's only got daughters with her on the farm, so she must've liked having a small man around. Apparently the girls loved him."
"He'll have to go there regularly now." Giovanni said.
"You mean you'll have to take him." At this line, Giovanni and Rosa's mouths dropped.
"Mario- what? Do you mean that you're not going-"
"Not going to offer to raise him? Come on, Rosa, I'm a drunk with a large extended family who all hate each other. I would be a terrible parent." This got another laugh-sob from Giovanni, "Besides, you two made Francesco into the man my daughter loved; kind, gentle and a good person. I'm sure you could do it again. I must warn you though; he will probably end up like Angela at times, so you will have your hands full." he smiled again.
"Mario... thank you. You must visit him though." Giovanni said, trying not to cry again.
"Of course I will! You don't understand, I am the one who will be coaxing his mother's spirit out of him! You'll want me to stop seeing him after a while, especially when I start teaching him about philosophy." More soft laughter. It eased the pain somewhat, although Mario doubted that his would ever go away.
"You do that, Mario. I'll teach him how to be a tailor so he'll dress better than you!" Giovanni retorted. He picked up the bottle of wine that was on the table and poured himself and his wife a glass. They stood up, and looked each other then Mario in the eyes;
"To Franceso and Angela; may their stars never fade."
As the trio toasted their lost children, Lucio kept on dreaming. He dreamt of cows, and dogs, and girls playing with his hair, and in his dream he wondered when mummy and daddy would be coming back again.
Lucio, age twoish, was fast asleep in his room. It was early evening in late Spring, and his day had been great! He had seen a cow, and a cat, and a dog or two! He couldn't wait for the next day now.
In the main room of the villa, however, the mood was different. Much different. Three people were there, two sitting and one standing. The standing one was wearing a black shirt and trousers, and had a a glass of wine in his hand. His hair was jet-black with a few streaks of grey, fairly long and curly, and he had a matching beard, although it was neatly trimmed. His eyes were a dark green, like a storm-tossed sea or a pine tree in mid-winter. He swilled his glass before taking a drink.
"That was a very nice eulogy, Mario." One of the sitting pair said. She was in a black dress, and her brown hair was neatly cropped. Her eyes, the exact colour of her hair, were reddish. She had a small smile on her face as she addressed the standing one. "I think I recognised some of the lines; was it Shakespeare?"
"Yeah. Macbeth. It was her favourite play." On closer inspection, the standing man's eyes were red as well. "Well, only some of them. I wrote the rest myself."
"I never realised you were so eloquent." the woman joked.
"Rosa, I never had a reason to be around you plebs." he softly quipped back. Both of them had smiles on their faces. The final person, sitting next to Rosa, let out a noise that was half-sob, half-laugh. His head had been in his hands, but he wiped his eyes and straightened up, before asking the question that had been on everyone's minds;
"What about little Lucio?"
"How is he doing, Giovanni?" Mario asked gently.
"He's... he's upstairs, fast asleep. He had a good day, I think."
"It was really kind of your cousin to look after him for the day, Mario. You must send her our thanks."
Mario smiled again before responding; "Honestly, Rosa, I think Annaria enjoyed it. Remember that she's only got daughters with her on the farm, so she must've liked having a small man around. Apparently the girls loved him."
"He'll have to go there regularly now." Giovanni said.
"You mean you'll have to take him." At this line, Giovanni and Rosa's mouths dropped.
"Mario- what? Do you mean that you're not going-"
"Not going to offer to raise him? Come on, Rosa, I'm a drunk with a large extended family who all hate each other. I would be a terrible parent." This got another laugh-sob from Giovanni, "Besides, you two made Francesco into the man my daughter loved; kind, gentle and a good person. I'm sure you could do it again. I must warn you though; he will probably end up like Angela at times, so you will have your hands full." he smiled again.
"Mario... thank you. You must visit him though." Giovanni said, trying not to cry again.
"Of course I will! You don't understand, I am the one who will be coaxing his mother's spirit out of him! You'll want me to stop seeing him after a while, especially when I start teaching him about philosophy." More soft laughter. It eased the pain somewhat, although Mario doubted that his would ever go away.
"You do that, Mario. I'll teach him how to be a tailor so he'll dress better than you!" Giovanni retorted. He picked up the bottle of wine that was on the table and poured himself and his wife a glass. They stood up, and looked each other then Mario in the eyes;
"To Franceso and Angela; may their stars never fade."
As the trio toasted their lost children, Lucio kept on dreaming. He dreamt of cows, and dogs, and girls playing with his hair, and in his dream he wondered when mummy and daddy would be coming back again.