friends and money, oil and water.

[100boxties]

WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS, RAFAEL DEL BOSQUE.

BASICS:

full name  : rafael del bosque. nicknames  :  rafa. birthdate  : 12th jan (  63 ). hometown  : coronado. traits : obsessive, strategic, unforgiving, paranoid. gender  +  pronouns  : cis man  +  he/him. orientation  : heterosexual. zodiac  : capricorn. occupation  : chair of del bosque enterprises. character parallels : michael corleone ( the godfather part 3 ), roderick usher ( the fall of the house of usher ), emperor joseph ii ( amadeus ). alliance : del bosque. aesthetic : whispered omens curled around his throat like a lover's hand, a cracked mirror reflecting pieces of a face, a rusted key in a trembling hand.

SUMMARY:

as a young man, the weight of legacy was a privilege. he dreamed of ruling coronado with his young ideals in mind. however, following in his father's footsteps came with decisions that turned him ruthless. he understood what it meant to be a del bosque and how heavy the burden could be.

the idea of leaving an impact, as the del bosques who came before him did, was his first mission. what could he build that wasn’t already done? things changed when a fortune teller spelled out his fate. he thought little of it, at first, but after a certain number of deaths and events that couldn’t be put down as consequence, protecting the family and everything they stood for became his priority.

this birthed a reformist — obsessive over the idea that the downfall of his family is imminent if things don’t change, paranoid that sins committed will eventually catch up to him. he plans to legitimise the family business and clean their name from blood stains. any threat will be taken care of, including his own children, if they dare. if he can turn the du bois and shibatas against each other, then he could silently step back and enjoy the show.

[1wayd0wn]

A tilt of the glass, a meaningless inspection. “I wouldn't say it asks much of the drinker.” He takes a sip. “It opens rather quickly, don't you think?”

[unmarkt]

“Is that not in line with the theme of the evening? To dispel all doubt and deliver an unambiguous message?” Fumiko offers, though she’s only going by what the program says. There’s always too much sentimentality involved in these things—and not the kind her family always stands for.

[1wayd0wn]

“An unambiguous message,” he repeats. It's good-natured, the way he muses, his tone always leaving enough room for one to ponder whether he agreed or disagreed. Out of everyone in the room, the Shibatas were the ones he didn't want to give too much away to. “And what message would that be?”

[1wayd0wn]

All the privilege in the world, and yet...

“A career path of a twenty-two year old.” Half a dozen eyes on them forces a practised smile, an encouraging hand to Andrea's shoulder. Though the quiet words that follow tell a different story: “Do you take pride in that, Andrea?”

[unlegitimate]

He doesn't flinch at the hand to his shoulder, keeps a smile on his face, though it doesn't meet his eyes. No matter, there's not a photographer in this place who can get a shot that clear. There's glass in his stomach, bile in his throat. "No, sir," he answers – the correct answer, but not necessary the true one. He's worked hard. With no help other than his name. No one would go out of their way for him. "Paperwork'll be signed by the end of the month. Business law. People should be more worried about the performance of our incoming Premier than they ought to be about me. Who's asking about me? I'd be more than happy to talk to them myself."

[1wayd0wn]

No paperwork would be signed without his eyes having scanned through it, but this was not a problem for now. It was hardly a problem for later. Andrea, whether he knew it or not, would end up at a law firm of Rafael’s choice. “I’d rather you didn’t.” Though less of a liability around the room than Teo, Rafael couldn’t stand the thought of Andrea bragging about his honours like it was an achievement. “People write about the colour of your hair, the shape of your nose, and whether or not you are still contributing to the unemployment rate.” A beat. “It’s not about worr—”

“Rafael!” A guest suddenly appears by their sides. He was a small man with round features and noticeably bad posture. Everyone knew he dressed to overcompensate for his humble beginnings. Regardless, they shake hands like old friends.

“Valerio,” Rafael greets, and with a hand on the other man’s elbow, he turns him towards Andrea. “Always a pleasure. You’ve met my son, Andrea.”

[1wayd0wn]

❝ the only way they’ll respect you is if you try to destroy them. ❞ ft. @ofprodigies

Rafael looks at his niece like a child who has just learned the rules of the game. “And then what?” Anger passed from generation to generation, from third to fourth …

[1wayd0wn]

‘ i won’t say it. i’ll just think it. ’ ft. @figuresinlight

“Whatever it is, get it off your face, too.” Spoken in hushed tones, where his lips barely move. Both hands grab his son’s shoulders, patting them on the sides lovingly, whilst wearing a smile to match. “Remember why we’re here.”

[1wayd0wn]

setting: somewhere at the event yk, with @simone-montgomery

“At last…” Rafael appears with a gracious smile, as if he’d been waiting for her. “We finally meet again. Simone,” he says, like it’s an ordinary name he’d taken the time to remember, and offers his hand. Nearby, there’s a man with a camera, waiting for the perfect moment. “Thank you for coming. How far you’ve come.”

[darlingcharlie]

O, I AM FORTUNE'S FOOL!

i. hereditary (2018) / ii. ophelia / iii. the oresteia / iv. wolf in white van / v. antigone / vi. romeo + juliet (1996) by @rocktheholygrail / vii. rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead / viii. hereditary (2018) / iv. hadestown (2019)

[websweavings]

"i promise it's low impact. no need to stretch any farther than your pants allow."

[1wayd0wn]

“Perhaps another time. If I didn't know any better, Angelica, I'd think Clarion was in desperate need of a headline.”

[1wayd0wn]

‘ you’re trying to control the weather. ’ ft. @linaeges

They continue down the long and carpeted corridor, as the circle of party donors gets smaller behind them. Rafael can feel their eyes on his back, vultures in vintage clothing, perched and patient. “I take it you've spoken to your mother.” Questions around the new Premier and the upcoming election remain stitched into the air around them; he doesn't need to say it, she'll have to pick a side.

[1wayd0wn]

❝ they did once call me the cunt of monte cristo. ❞ ft. @tjdelbosque & grigorio

Grigorio throws his head back with a bark of laughter. An ugly sound, and an uglier neck. Rafael wonders how many cocktail picks would be needed to rupture that vein, all while wearing a friendly smile, as he says, “I can't possibly imagine why.”

An easy hand on the traitor's shoulder, a telling glance passed to Teo. “Now, I'm afraid duty calls, but I'm sure Teodósio is dying to hear the story.”

[unlegitimate]

They're really doing this here and now of all times and places. His posture is ramrod-straight. "You tell them the truth," he hadn't realized people were asking what he was doing for a living, "I just graduated with honors from Orvièux Law. I'm finding a job in business law now. It's only a matter of time."

[1wayd0wn]

All the privilege in the world, and yet...

“A career path of a twenty-two year old.” Half a dozen eyes on them forces a practised smile, an encouraging hand to Andrea's shoulder. Though the quiet words that follow tell a different story: “Do you take pride in that, Andrea?”

[unmarkt]

“Is the perlacéa not to your liking this evening, sir?” (@1wayd0wn)

[1wayd0wn]

A tilt of the glass, a meaningless inspection. “I wouldn't say it asks much of the drinker.” He takes a sip. “It opens rather quickly, don't you think?”

[1wayd0wn]

setting: after the red carpet, far away from the dancing @unlegitimate

"And when people ask what you are now doing for a living..." A pregnant pause. "I'm to say what, exactly?"

[tjdelbosque]

Rafael doesn't look pleased to see him, but then Rafael almost never looks pleased to see him, so the observation makes no impact on him. Teodósio grabs a knife to slice a tomato and carries on with his tale.

"Rumour has it your old friend Ortíz had a heart attack there once and 'Joey' got him the help he needed... Visited him every day he spent in hospital after that." Bless the ICU nurse he'd screwed for those details. Teo sets the knife down, meeting Rafael's expectant gaze. "He returned the favour after he got out. Visits her café every week, often for hours at a time... Always leaves an exorbitant tip."

The two halves of the sandwich come together and he bites into it, the lettuce's spine snapping audibly between his teeth. Teodósio watches the older man absorb the news. Does Rafael fear that kind of death?... All that power, reduced to a desperate nothing by a tiny clot in the wrong artery. He finishes chewing and adds; "He's kept the health scare a secret. Presumably so as not to worry his investors."

[1wayd0wn]

Rafael's eyes narrow into a harsh squint, lingering a second too long on the glint of the knife in Teo's hands. He turns towards the sink, shoulders taut with unspoken thought. Water rushes from the tap as he slowly washes his hands, like the act ought to wipe his slate clean. He wonders, then, how much it would take for Teo to jam the knife between his shoulder blades.

If Grigorio's body had failed, would that've been satisfying? Or does it only feel like an accomplishment, when his hand is forced? There is an easy solution here and he knows it -- but that would undo everything. The years have taught him that every drop counts, and they all come back around. He'd have to take a slower approach: making Grigorio wish he had died that day in the ICU.

"Don't touch her," Rafael says at last, shaking the water from his fingers, but the underlying instruction is clear: the cafe was to be used to send a light message. The rest of the information was useful, evident in the brief pause Rafael takes, thoughtful and still, with no follow-up.

Instead, as he leaves, he says: "Keep digging." It'll take a lot more than this for Grigori Ortiz to unravel.

[stromaintic]

A morbid joke cuts across the air, letting Dimitri remember that yes, the nation was in a state of upheaval and yes, it might be someone from the major families that had done this. The sword waits and waits, until it falls and skewers him to the ground. He dreams about a tombstone, dying and being sent to one of the good cemeteries where his body can still smell the sea. Premier dies, stocks go red, people start to get stupid and try to do things that they shouldn't. Dimitri all but wonders when it falls, but he's shocked when Rafael says something vulnerable. Trust and vulnerability is hard to come by in the island, but he's an old man now, old enough to remember what both felt like and his face softens. "Raf." It's almost a nice tone, less gravel and more soothing than he should be able to manage given the circumstances. "I would, you know I would. And you'd do me the same, I figure." "But you're not saying something you shouldn't already know." He takes a sip of his drink calmly, and looks on at him, eyes searching for a tell—any tell. "You're head of the ruling arm of the family now. What's brought this on?"

[1wayd0wn]

Rafael studies Dimitri's response closely, as if searching for something that could not be found.

Would he? He wonders, and the doubt is balanced evenly between them. Or have they just been fortunate enough to never have to make that choice? Yes, Dimitri says what he knows, but what he knows wasn't enough anymore. It was not the time to be sentimental over decades of friendship, and he couldn't take comfort in it just yet.

There's a long and drawn out pause, as Rafael takes a sip of his drink then glances heavenwards towards the sun. His steps carry him toward the ivory arbours where the Jade Vines would grow. He could brush this all off with a joke about their old age, or he could point to where the white moth had landed on his shoulder -- a bad omen, he believed, about unexpected betrayals, or he could just tell him the truth.

Instead, what he settles on, after some silence is: "Have you spoken to Giorgio lately?"

[directart]

"Of course," She agrees, seemingly, even if her tone is slightly disapproving, her expression assiduously blank. It will never fail to astound her, how she tries so very hard to maintain the legacy that his family has painstakingly built throughout the years, and how he seems so hellbent on undoing all their hard work.

They were close, once. A team, she might go so far as to say, and one that was to be feared by all who encountered them. Luciana isn't sure where or when along the line exactly that they fell apart, she only knows that the chasm which exists between them now seems entirely too big to patch over.

Is it worth the effort, she sometimes wonders, in between galas and foundation meetings: but she has come entirely too far now to back down. One cannot simply do what she has done and throw it all away without a fight, no matter how determined her husband seems. "But the people may need some shepherding, is all, and who better than us to do it?"

His arm has stretched out towards, both casually and strategically it seems; where years ago she might have shuffled down a cushion or two on the couch, directly into her grasp, now she simply remains where she is sat, still as a statue and just as poised. An ice queen, regal and sacrosanct, refusing to give in.

[1wayd0wn]

Her agreement lands like the first snowfall on stone, but he's long since learned what that means: it isn't worth her energy tonight. He isn't sure whether to feel grateful or disappointed. Inside this room, everything remains unchanged -- except for them.

Their reflection is held in the glass table next to them, split into two by its central beam carving a clean line down the middle. He shifts slightly, fingers folding under his palm, leaving only his index finger to tap light and slow along the velvet. A metronome of restraint.

His eyes settle just past her shoulder, briefly, as he realises she sounds like his parents. "Do you really think that?"

The room still carries the faint hum of the broadcast, a leader gunned down mid-sentence. The people are no longer sheep. Their revolt no longer hid in alleyways or underground bars. Under Hector, the invisible hand was shown, and the family's grip on the state became undeniable. Now, it seems, the fury left behind was Rafael's to face.

A beat. Then, but quieter: "Ignacio did not die a martyr." The message was loud and clear. Didn't this scare her?

[websweavings]

open starter !!

setting: the park idk

"it's such a beautiful day... would you like to join me for yoga?"

[1wayd0wn]

“Wrong pair of trousers, sadly.”