Musing Calliope

Even the c o l o r s of a c h a m e l e o n are for survival not beauty.

[coldcalliope]

codingxsinclair‌:

painandvengeance:

Folding his arms across his chest firmly, Nico nods to the hacker as he processes the fact that this conversation is actually taking place. Brown eyes take a glance at the headphones that wrapped around his neck, a proud feeling growing within him as the he recalls the conversation they had about the practicality of gifts. It was nice to know that he’d made a good decision – that not everything had been left behind in Rome.

“Don’t sound so amused by the statement, I may be a bartender but I’ve still got a degree too ya know.” The man laughs, knowing fully well that that wasn’t Ethan’s reason for being amused at the statement. But Nico wouldn’t be Nico if he didn’t take an opportunity to say something snarky.  

Observing the hacker quietly, he took a moment to appreciate how life had changed since the ragtag team of revolutionaries had served their purpose and split ways – how nice it was to see Ethan in this state. It was a hell of a change from the silent, nervous, kid who refused to make eye contact that showed up on his doorstep with penny what seemed like forever ago. Nico was proud. As proud as any man would be to see his family doing well.

“Well that’s not much of a shocker for Aussie Barbie.” Domenico retorts with a slight shrug before continuing. “Don’t tell me you’ve been venturing to the outside world in the sunlight as well! You look far less pale than I remember.” Granted, a lot of factors had changed and time had passed since the two last spent a decent amount of time near each other, so, Ethan not appearing in the same appearance he remembered was definitely a good thing. 

At the next statement, Nico found himself frozen for a moment just staring at the hacker blankly as he pulled himself back together. Not only someone besides himself or Calli acknowledged their relationship for the first time – but Ethan volunteered himself for physical contact. And of all things, a hug. The physical expression of familiarity and emotion. After a laugh, he finally speaks while closing the distance between them. “You really think I’d miss this opportunity? Hug first.” Nico proclaims in excitement while pulling his friend into an embrace. A feeling he had yet to experience in their almost two and a half years of friendship. “Now I can officially get settled in.”

“I know, Domenico. All politicians have a certain level of intelligence about them,” Ethan agreed, his mind moving faster than his lips though Ethan had yet to notice he had let slip that he knew a little about Nico’s past. “And there are several different types of knowledge, anyway.” Ethan did not have emotional, but he was working on interpersonal. He’d gotten significantly better in the last months. 

Static. 

Ethan blinked lucidity back with a shake of his head. “You shouldn’t call Penelope an Aussie Barbie. She won’t be too happy,” he countered, though he was stopped mid thought by the assertion that he looked less pale than usual. Ethan had never thought of himself as pale, especially when his life was spent beside his sister, but he supposed there were several reasons for his lifeless appearance for the entirety of the time Nico had known him. Ethan ran through fifteen reasons in his head. 

“I sleep now,” Ethan asserted, having come to the conclusion that was the most likely reason he had color in his skin again. No more energy-drink induced week-long stints awake. No more monitoring every movement on the streets or hacking into gang and government systems all hours of the day. Ethan was no long on consistent high-alert. Now he merely maintained watch over Calliope daily. He had alerts for everything else.

Having been lost in thought for several seconds, Ethan did not quite hear Nico’s response to his offer and was momentarily startled by physical contact. Ethan relaxed immediately, falling gently into the embrace. Practice. He wrapped his arms around Nico’s back, statements slightly muffled by the fabric.

“Penelope misses you.”

Stepping out of the first and only hug he’d shared with Nico, Ethan adjusted the headphones to sit comfortably atop his shoulders again. 

“I missed you.”

A beat. 

Ethan bent down to pick up a bag and turned to walk down the hallway. “Calliope’s bedroom is up this way.”

Having made her way through the west lounge to the doors to the backyard, Calli sighed, pressing lightly on the mahogany as she opened the glass doors. Practiced steps brought her outside, snow covering the lounge furniture in a thick blanket--a natural replica of the one covering her logs. The fabric cracked and groaned in time with Calliope pulling it from atop the stack of split timber. She grabbed four in her arms, walking them back into the house to set the wood near the open door before returning to place the tarp back atop the stack.

Calliope made quick work of knocking the snow from her shoes and getting inside, ensuring the door was locked behind her. Sebastian breezed past before Calliope had a moment to shake off the chill, picking up the logs and carrying them into the east lounge to toss in the fireplace. She followed him, leaning in the entryway with a smile.

“I’m going to start on dinner in a minute; fish and chips for you as per usual, sound okay?”

Sebastian was busy kindling a fire as she spoke, but turned once he was done with a nod. 

“I love you, kiddo,” she chirped, turning to make her way to the kitchen.

Prep was simple and Calliope ran through the motions quickly, pulling pots from their perches, beginning to craft two separate meals. By the time she had everything simmering and in the oven, she’d worked up the slightest of sweats. Adjusting her hair, Calliope made her way back through the house to the staircase, walking up to her room where she had hardly expected to find both Nico and Ethan. 

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered my secret,” she smiled brightly, reaching out to hold Ethan’s cheek in her hand. “One half of my kid duo came to visit,” she joked, pressing a kiss to Ethan’s cheek before redirecting her attention. “Do either of you want to come downstairs and actually talk on the couch or will I have to drag you down when dinner is ready?”

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

Sometimes it was easy to forget the depth of the pain that transpired in the story of Calliope – the struggles she faced to build herself as the woman he’d found love and friendship within. An easy slip of the tongue revealed a scarred piece of emotional flesh that was covered so effortlessly by kind actions and smiles. Nico could see the error in his statement within a slight tense of her jaw, a sudden rigidity in her posture, but the night air proved too frigid to stand around and talk it out. He could apologize and explain himself later.

Two suitcases were rolled to the vehicle and placed inside with a small grunt as the bartender lifted the weight with slightly numb arms. He really wasn’t cut out for this weather. Once the bags were secured and the trunk was close, he all but ran to the passenger seat and secured the seatbelt before they were off to visit the place she had called home since their last encounter. 

“Well it’s certainly not sitting half naked on the sunny sands of Copa Cabana, but I’ll admit the view on the plane ride here was pretty amazing. Honestly, this is the most snow I’ve seen in my life.” A small smile was born of a sense of curiosity for this different environment. Though, it wasn’t without certain fears and reservations for the unknown. “That definitely makes sense. I can’t argue there, though Brainiac loves you too much to ever let someone even get close.”

Eyelids grew heavy on the car ride to their destination, the warmth of the car along with the tranquil view of snowflakes hitting the windshield exasperated the jet lag that he’d since conveniently forgotten about in excitement to have this reunion. He was in a nearly asleep trance for a few moments until the image of Calli’s hand was in front of him, followed by her voice. Brown eyes turn to look out of the window, immediately his attention was drawn to the lights over in the distance just as he had said, and there was no denying the warm feeling of sentiment that grew in him upon looking. Just the two of them on this mountain and the beauty of a winter night was something irreplaceable and beautiful and no resort quality tropical paradise could compare at the moment. “Okay, this definitely beats a hotel. Again, thanks for havin’ me sugarplum.” 

Crystalline irises remained fixed ahead as Calliope pulled off from the last traffic light they would encounter on the way up to the house. One left turn led the pair under a branch dangling like an arm, fingers sprinkling snow onto the windshield. Calliope increased the tension between her foot and the pedal, all wheel drive encouraging the vehicle to smoothly increase its speed as the lights beginning to illuminate the asphalt decreased in frequency. One slight right presented a more narrow paved road, devoid of street lights, and so Calliope turned on the brights.

“My breakfast is better than continental, too,” she offered, nearly absently as she focused most of her energy on ensuring they made a safe trek up the side of the mountain toward the isolated house. The sound of treatment salt beneath tires and gentle gusts of wind were enough to keep Calliope at ease for the moment.

“Ethan isn’t in charge of my safety,” Calliope hummed. Sure, he was still keeping tabs on her family in case they got closer quicker than Calliope could anticipate, but Calliope was quite good at staying safe on her own. So long as she never touched her trust, she could remain fairly untraceable and fortunately, Calliope never needed the millions locked away. Blood money.

Several minutes passed before Calliope reached her hand up, index finger coaxing a hollow click from the garage opener. The white Audi A5 she’d had in Rome had been replaced by the same model in charcoal and there it sat. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Good, Sebastian is home,” Calliope breathed, pulling in the three car garage -- third spot filled by a Yamaha ATV, snowmobile, and an Aprilia RSV4. The garage door closed behind the vehicle and Calliope parked contentedly.

Stepping out of the car, Calliope stretched before popping the trunk and closing the door. Without telling Nico to grab his things, as she though it was self-explanatory, Calliope typed in the code to open the door to the house, peeking her head in.

“Seb, it’s me. Nico is here; I’m gonna make dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready.” she shouted into the house not sure of where Seb was as they both liked to be reclusive far too frequently. Her words surely bounced off the warmed stone floors of the recreation room.

“Welcome to my house,” Calliope smiled, walking back up the five stairs to the house, the pool and jacuzzi the first room they would pass before reaching the west lounge and the foyer. “So do you want to drop your stuff off upstairs first, or do you just want to pass out on the couch until I’m done cooking?”

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

“Of course I wasn’t built for this cold, I’m a hot blooded Roman through and through. But, you know what they say: there ain’t no mountain high enough … ain’t no valley low enough.”

An eyebrow perked at the sight of the paint that Calli had allowed to dry on her face, something offhand for a woman whose life depended so heavily upon appearances. He didn’t mind the streak, however, it was actually a cute touch. The green worked well with her deep blue eyes. Nico finds himself chuckling quietly as the woman speaks about the size of her home. “So what you mean to say is, it is huge.” His lips purse playfully. “Don’t gotta be so modest, Calli, luxury suits you.”

The bartender was snapped from his admiring thoughts by her voice telling him to gather his belongings and head out, to which he obliged within the moment. After heading to grab the bags he’d placed down upon entering the gallery, Domenico exits the building. The mist created by his breathing floated into the night sky as he awaits his ride. “While we are commuting, please remind me why you chose this place out of all the warmer climates in the world.”

Calliope was certain Nico meant no harm by chiding her about not giving up the nature of the grandeur of her house, but he was wrong in thinking luxury suited her. Luxury suited nearly everyone, but Calliope had been raised in it and she hardly wanted anything to do with luxurious lifestyles beyond being able to afford a safe place in which to sleep. True luxury draws attention, after all. 

She quickly locked the door behind her, pulling out her phone to secure the building with a series of codes, reinforced steel much like that protecting the museum in Rome came down like blinds on the inside of the glass. Breathing out, Calliope popped the trunk of the Q5 as they walked toward the already started vehicle, Calliope hopping in the drivers’ side to wait for Nico. 

Closing the door and buckling her seatbelt, Calliope looked over at the man as he got in. “I happen to love living in the mountains; they’re more beautiful and peaceful than any other place on the planet -- you’ll see.” she asserted. Finally driving off, Calliope kept her eyes ahead. “And it makes you much more difficult to find.”

The drive would only take the better half of a half hour. The roads into the mountain were most treacherous at night, but Calliope knew her way well. Several minutes into paying close attention to their surroundings, Calliope pointed to Nico’s right. “Over there. Those lights in the distance,” she hummed. “We’ll be there soon.” It really was beautiful.

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

Domenico would not escape the regrets he’d left in Roma, however hard he tried, but looking upon Calli’s joyous movement and the spring in her step the man knew for certain that he was glad to have followed his heart and left. He’d unknowingly fallen in love with the curator back in Roma, but the Calliope that stood before him was different – in a good way. Yes the ancient city was what he’d known all of his life, he’d made a home and a life for himself amongst all of the muck and mire and happily resigned to his comfort zone. Calli, however, found a happiness of her own but it was an adaptation. Since freed from the tyranny and political unrest of their former lives, she seemed to shine even brighter. It was intoxicating to be in her presence again.

With no further commentary, the bartender stands idle and watches the curator go about her routine of closing up shop and cleaning the remnants of her artistic process. There was something very telling about watching someone’s process, looking past the actions themselves into the how of their behavior, especially something they are passionate about. Every little detail holds its own story, it’s own key into the mind of the person. An interesting parallel lied between Calliope’s art and Nico’s bartending, one that rested as a fleeting thought in his mind but never held any true value interest this moment. It wasn’t so much the physical technique itself, as even a seasoned barkeep like himself had to admit, but the nuances and practiced behaviors. Everything had its purpose, it’s place, and like clockwork every time you’d do things in a similar fashion.

Most of all there was the coveted item amongst a plethora of similar things, that object that stayed in plain sight but held enough sentimental value for it to be given special treatment and placement. For Nico that object was a bottle of 1942 aged  tequila that Federico procured in a questionable fashion, at the time it was to assist his brother in climbing the ranks in the corporate world by touting a luxury rare to even some of the fat cats of the business – but the irony of Domenico later owning a bar rested there. It would never be touched, save for the day that Nico left Rome. One goodbye shot for himself and another poured onto the grave of the man who gave him the gift. For Calliope this piece of sentiment seemed to be this paintbrush she refused to let leave her person. Interesting.

Time seemed a blur before the man snapped out of his thoughts by the sudden darkness of the gallery lights being turned off. A quick blink to refocus took place before Nico walked toward the exit. “Alright let’s blow this joint, now that you’ve enticed my appetite with the promise of home cooked goodies.” A quick wink. “I’m sure you’re ready to show off your big canadian property.”

Dried olive streaked across one cheek made a happy home atop skin as Calliope walked toward the door opening a concealed closet a few feet to the side of the entrance. A black Patagonia was yanked off of its hanger and shrugged over lithe shoulders, quickly zipped, keys pulled from unzipped pockets. 

“You’re really not built for this weather are you?” Calliope teased.

Tilting slightly, left foot lifting from the ground as she peered through the door, an outstretched hand starting a blue Audi Q5 remotely. “You’re lucky--” her thought was cut off my Nico’s assertion. The artist turned on the balls of her feet, cerulean irises capturing his gaze. “The size of the house is hardly important. It’s not the house that makes the home, after all.”

Closing the closet door, Calliope turned off the only remaining lights. “Alright, it’s time for you to grab your stuff and toss it in the back so we can get going before the temperature plummets and I have to pull out the tire chains.” she grinned, opening the door for Nico so she could lock the gallery behind him.

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

This – connection, if you will, was a new sensation for both parties involved. Naturally that would entail some fear and unsureness about how to proceed, how this fit into two very calculated life plans that involved self-protection. How do you trust someone else with all of this responsibility and emotion. There were very many questions that they would have to face head on and answer together, compromises would need to be made, honesty and understanding would be vital. But, at the end of the day all of the factors and variables were just details to consider, what was important was the Domenico was more sure than ever that he wanted to be with Calliope – to make her and Sebastian priorities in his life. So long as he could remember that, the rest would come without too much difficulty. All of the distance in the world wouldn’t stop him from finding her again and returning every single time if that’s what it took. 

“I know how it feels to be left behind by the brother you look up to. That being said, I’m grateful that he has a woman like you in his corner.” Who knows how much trouble and pain Domenico could’ve avoided or at least handled better with the support of someone as selfless as Calli standing beside him. He too wanted to help in any way he could to ensure Sebastian could live a safe and happy life.

A grateful smile is given as Nico looks to the ground, it wasn’t that she couldn’t handle his baggage as much as he didn’t want to disappoint her. There were still skeletons in his closet he bore a hell of a lot of shame for, at least before he travelled on a whim and found time to be by himself and deal with some tough things, to reflect and decide what he would let stay in his life and what would go. “I know you can handle it, sugarplum.” A gentle stroke is given to her arm. “You’ve dealt with me and my shit for years.” A laugh is given as he averts the subject of a more positive note. “I’m here for you, and him, anytime you need as well.”

Nico gives a playful eye roll as the woman lights up cheerfully in pride of her home here in Canada, she was such a pure angelic woman at times and it made it hard to remember the warrior that he’d seen during the trepidous times in rome. It was a beautiful and interesting dichotomy that spoke to how hard she worked to believe in the good in life, to keep spreading as much of that goodness as she could to overcome the curse of her family name. God, he loved her. 

“I’ll be here.” A shrug is given as she requests that he wait for her to close up shop before they celebrated this time they had together. “just having a good ol’ time with the charming Signore Santo Domingo here.”

Calliope took a single step forward, smile reaching the oceans in her irises. “I haven’t been dealing with anything,” she asserted, rejecting the negative connotations the word brought with it. Noting the rapid change in subject, Calliope lifted onto the balls of her feet to press her lips against the skin of his cheek and resolved to drop mention of his baggage.

Bare feet stepped back, pirouetting to turn the artist toward the canvas she’d finished, momentarily taken aback by its completeness. She had almost forgotten. Almost. The paintbrush in her back pocket pressed lightly against the fabric of her shirt, coaxing Calliope to release it from the denim prison. Lithe fingers clasped around the cedar handle, bringing it to her chest. She had finished a painting. Cleaning was a bit different for completed paintings. No one had ever been in the room before.

The artist took a deep breath, bristles of the now dry brush still pressed against her chest, and stepped forward. A grey towel speckled with paint was placed on the ground in front of the cart beside the canvas, brushed plucked from the glass of tepid water to rest on the cotton.

She refused to put the brush clutched to her chest down now. Maybe later. Calliope placed it between her teeth.

The palette was next. A palette knife scraped the remnants of drying oils into a small tupperware. On its lid, Calliope wrote ‘Santo Domingo’ in script. The towel folded over to press water from the bristles of the brushes lying on its surface.

She still hadn’t placed the final brush down. Maybe later. Calliope placed it behind her ear.

The drying brushes were placed at the bottom of the cart in a section mentally labeled ‘to be washed’. The towel was folded and placed beside the brushes -- all needing a thorough wash that she would see to another time. Standing, Calliope ensured the tops were on all of her oils, placing them back in order by hue.

The final brush remained behind her ear without having been preliminarily cleaned. Maybe later. Calliope took it between her fingers.

Moving back to the canvas, Calliope opened a small jar much like an inkwell and dipped the stiff bristles of her brush in the oil. A practiced hand placed brush to canvas for the final time in the bottom left corner. There she signed to indicate completion.

The brush was through working. It would never be cleaned. She placed it on the lip of the easel and marveled at it for several seconds.

Quickly, Calliope moved around to the stairs, grabbing shoes from the corner before turning off almost all lights save for the ones that could be controlled closer to the doors. 

“I’m ready. I’ll be here all night if I don’t stop now.”

[coldcalliope]

Quick House Tour

First Floor

Foyer

Kitchen

West Lounge

Seasonal Room

Pool and Jacuzzi

East Lounge

First Floor Restroom

Back Yard Entrance

Second Floor

South Lounge

North Lounge

Library lounge

Calli’s Room

Sebastian’s Room

Guest Room 

Second Floor Restroom

Add On - Backyard

Calli’s Home Studio

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

Blue eyes betrayed the thoughts that currently began to dig their way into Calliope’s mind. It was clear as day to Nico. The woman’s mannerisms shifted ever so slightly as the warmth of their bodies slowly dissipated and they were left standing as two separate entities once more. Loneliness was something that the bartender had taught himself to embrace as necessity, so he had to remind himself that the woman before him did not share the same sentiment. He couldn’t just come and go from her life whimsically for his own leisure, despite the fact that his instincts all but screamed to do so. Especially when she had already endured such a fate with her former romance. So, this gesture was to remind her that he was here to stay – at least until they could figure the rest of the kinks out. 

“You did what you had to do, for the man who had your heart before I did. And I respect that.” An understanding smile is given as he directs a wink her way. Sebastian deserved everything that Calliope could offer him, the motherly love that came so naturally to her and the support of his dreams. It’d be selfish and outright wrong of Nico to ask the woman to put their relationship before that, and if he ever did – that’d be the moment he didn’t deserve her. “Think about it, I had a lot of things in my life while I was in Roma that I couldn’t bring into your life more than I already had, especially on your fresh start. So what I’m saying is my extended time away wasn’t out of forgetting about you or not wanting to see you, I had to go on a little sabbatical and face some of my shit before I faced you.” 

At the mention of food, more precisely Calliope’s famed southern style cooking, Nico couldn’t help but grin in anticipation. Brazilian cuisine was amazing but there’d always be a special place for the feasts that were made by the hands of a beautiful artist. “Now that you throw that into the equation I guess you are stuck with me for now, cuz I can’t turn down that offer.” The bartender jests. “Though I must say you’re making yourself a tough act to follow, painting, cooking, and adding a complimentary fireplace. I don’t thaink I can match that when you come to my place in Rio.”

Transience was all but to be expected from this -- whatever it could be called. Calliope attempted to remind herself that Nico had been kind enough to visit and it would be unfair to expect much more than a gentle farewell and a promise not to be a stranger that would be broken within the year. It was the way of things. The way Calliope’s life had always been. Though Nico had been different, situations remained the same. By all accounts, Calliope was still running and nothing would change until the moment she found a reason to stop. Courage to face an imminent danger she had been shielding from herself for a decade. Home. 

Only one requirement had been met. 

“His wellbeing is the most important thing to me,” she shrugged. His brother -- the infamous William Thatcher -- had left him standing in the rain. It should have been her sign. Sebastian wanted family; Calliope wanted absolution. Together, the pair found both. 

Calliope smiled. “You don’t have to defend what happened. I understand and I don’t blame you. Rome was supposed to be the end and we both attempted to make sure it was.” A breath. “But, I don’t want you to ever think your baggage is too much for me. As a friend or anything else, Nico. I’m always here for you, you know that -- and I can take anything you throw at me.”

Her smile widened at his assertion, noting his brows at the mention of a fireplace. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” she grinned. “The blankets, the sofas, the plethora of pillows and warm libations. My house is a winter oasis.” Remembering herself for a moment, Calliope looked around. 

“Give me a minute to clean up a little and turn off the lights and we can go. I don’t want you to have to eat too late and Seb is probably home playing video games and stuffing junk in his face, so I need to get some vegetables into his system before it’s too late.”

[eileencg2]

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

Life was such a simple thing, at least when you are smart enough to step away from all of the things preoccupying your mind long enough to see the beauty that rests before your eyes. Federico knew this long ago, and ironically enough everything that the man once detested in his brother and argued so vehemently about for years became the same things that he later saw for himself and adopted in his own life. Nico couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of how many times he’s proven his brother right in the past year. All it took was one woman. This beautiful, exquisitely talented, genius of a woman that he by no means deserved to knock some sense into him. Finally Domenico could open his eyes and – stop running. 

When intertwined in one another’s embrace, Nico and Calli were safe. They were safe to be vulnerable, flawed, broken and completely and truly themselves. That is what, after all of his years of watching others, endless hours spent learning and memorizing behavior patterns and the universal commonalities in humanity, had eluded him. Love. Not just the intense longing and yearning to be in another person’s presence, but the act of love itself. Completely surrendering yourself to a person, giving them everything you have willingly, trusting them with your pain and fears and insecurities, and in turn reciprocating the acceptance of all of this baggage. With no expectations in return. That’s what baffled the man. He’d resigned himself to a life of selfishness, at least so he’d thought, in order to cope with the things taking place in his life and mind. People were like a puppet show to him, and his only interest was learning how to pull the strings to gain what he desired. Once again, he thought that was revenge and to bring change to the broken society that took everything he’d known away from him. However, after this long road he’d walked with his new family, Domenico was forced to care for others in a way he’d only cared for his brother. As it turns out, that’s what his real desire was. Love. No amount of observation and people watching could teach him that. It’s something spiritual. Not even sure if he believed in a god anymore, or what theology he’d belong to, the man was always reluctant to speak on the subject – but of this he knew in his being there was a spirituality. How else could you explain this intense bond that was shared between himself and the woman?

Two pairs of lips part slowly to leave the couple whispering softly to one another, just barely filling the silence. A sense of guilt found itself looming over Domenico as he thought retrospectively on the matter of he and Calliope’s relationship. Softly he speaks into her shoulder, being sure to not separate from her embrace as he did so. “I am so sorry that I left you alone, I was… well. It doesn’t matter. Please just know that I never meant to hurt ya, Calli.” A breath. “However, if it’s any consolation, you are so undoubtedly worth waiting for.” A small smirk is found on his features after this statement. Processing this entire emotional evening the two had just had, he stands there absentmindedly running his finger through dark tresses as the peaceful feeling of admittance and acceptance pervades. After clearing his throat, Nico inquires softly. “I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but I have reservations at a hotel in town.” A small pause. “And I have my luggage in the car. But, If I’m being completely honest right now the last thing I want is some cruddy hotel bed .. and to wake up away from you like I have every other morning. I’d love an excuse to cancel the reservation.” Brown eyes look up to the woman as he continues. “Whaddya say to an impromptu overnight guest? Will you have me, sugarplum?”

Cerulean irises remained obscured by thin skin, lashes comfortable intertwined as the warmth began to fade. Calliope had wished the moment could have lasted longer, if only to preserve the memory in amber for fear it would be another year before another opportunity came to pass. Lashes released their hold on each other, parting to reveal the scene of her gallery. The idea Nico had implanted now obscured by his presence. She blinked twice. 

“You didn’t,” Calliope assured him. “I left. I ran. You didn’t hurt me; I did.” And now it would be his turn -- to run. Leave Calliope standing precisely where she was while feeling wholly changed. A little more empty. He could hurt her now and she would accept it. 

Calliope could hardly conceal a smile at Nico’s assertion, though she did try, momentarily allowing her eyes to fall shut. “If you say so,” she shrugged, her nonchalance interrupted by the presumed departure of one Domenico Vitale. Lids lifted, a crystalline gaze falling on Nico assessing her next move before he spoke, quelling any fears she may have had.

“Well I do owe you food and it’ll take me at least an hour and a half to cook. Momma always said if you eat past seven and it’s not a holiday, you’ve gotta put up your guests.” She smiled, shrugging. “Plus, hotels don’t have fireplaces.” Her nonchalance faded as she peered up into the eyes she’d spent so long perfecting. They were still far better on him than on canvas. “I’d love to have you.”

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

If there was one thing that Calli had taught Nico about herself, it was that she was dynamic, ever-changing, and fluid. The man found that he never knew what to expect from her, and if he thought he had her figured out she’d surprise him. Which, in retrospect is what fascinated him about the woman from the jump. A man who was well versed in learning people, reading the patrons that kept his bar running and yet Calli never made it so easy. Perhaps the fact that she was a Warner had conditioned her to be a nearly impenetrable mental fortress, but she proved to be one challenge he never minded taking on. Domenico could appreciate the thoroughness and care she put into what she allowed others to see and know of herself, and over the years he’d developed the same eyes for the woman as she had for the dark and meticulous painting strokes of Caravaggio. It was an enthralling fascination that grew into something much more, something beautiful. 

“That sentence sounds so amazing when it comes from your lips.” The man chimes flirtatiously, getting lost so easily in her gaze of blue as he did so. the next sentence however, took his breath away for a moment. A confused blink is given as he tries to process what she’d meant by him having to let go, especially when it came directly after her pleading to not lose him again. His heart had all but dropped until the next sentence came in jest, her delayed smile causing him to join the laughter. “You conniving devil you, Devo lasciare andare di voi, il mio culo.” And once again, he’s hit by Calliope’s signature curveball. Never before could Nico recall a time where he felt so happy to be duped at his own game, deceived into being the butt of the joke. In her very essence the woman proved to be a checkmate in a game that Nico was unaware he was playing until it was too late. In regards to Calli, he’d always lose and that was okay. “We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.” He states jokingly, not even fazed by the cruel joke anymore. Two hands wrap around her neck from behind, holding her with a graceful power as his thumb strokes her cheek. Soft lips travel forward to meet with those of the artist with a slow and passionate ferocity. 

For nearly nine months they’d been apart, and every day since parting ways the man had longed to close that gap once more. Surely this was reflected in the way his lips so longingly interacted with hers. Calliope was a woman who he couldn’t imagine his life without by this point, much less actually continue living without. He needed to savor this moment they had together, to connect, to feel her dark locks flowing through his fingers as the breaths they breathed separately became one. “No more running, you’ve got me.” Nico states breathlessly once their lips manage to part for good. Time is such a precious thing to waste after all.

Calliope could not keep herself from smiling long after she’d managed to catch Nico off his guard. Genuine confusion and concern palpable in the stagnant air between the pair. She had successfully elicited the reaction she’d been looking for -- and felt rather proud of it too -- but to let it linger much longer would be rude. Fortunately, he caught on before she had to feel guilty for causing such momentary trauma. 

His laugh culled an internal shiver, her heart and stomach colluding to create what she knew to be the sensation so often referred to as butterflies. “Non è necessario.” she breathed, the Italian she’d perfected so long ago feeling nearly foreign atop her tongue. Though, in his presence, it felt like home. Memories of long forgotten sounds flooded her mind, the faint warmth of roman sun against cheeks on morning runs with Priscilla caressed her cheek. Nico’s voice. His hands. Domenico was the embodiment of everything in Rome Calliope had come to love and here he was. Calliope hadn’t noticed the warmth of Rome came from his hands until Nico had resolved to close the distance between them completely. 

Only once had she felt precisely this way. Only once had she believed herself to have had the experience William described.

Have you ever been in love Calliope?  So in love that everything else seemed to fade away? You deserve the finest sort of love. The kind that leaves you breathless and invades your mind stealing every moment of every thought.

Only once: when she was leaving Rome. She remembered that day more vividly than anything else in her life and it was wrapped in the warmth of the man whose lips to which she’d long since acquiesced that she found the love William said she deserved. The love he had assumed would be with him. 

It was Nico.

“No more running,” her voice danced across his soft pout. “No more running,” Calliope repeated. “So long as I’m with you.”

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

In these moments, it seemed as if neither of them could hold eye contact for more than a few brief moments at a time, as if they couldn’t face the reality of the situation they’d been hiding from all of this time. How do you move forward from that? Before it was as if being in each other’s presence again after so long had isolated them in their own little world, a space that only the two of them were in together and it was ok. However as time passed their surroundings became more clear, the real world began to go back into focus and the questions in the back of one’s mind began to arise. What did all of this mean? How could it work? Was it the right call? The right time? What if something happened to one of them? The list goes on in anxious minds of valid questions, inquiries into the rationality of this thing called love – when in truth such a complex human sensation distorted reality and worked in ways which were very irrational. It all boils down to trusting your heart, and trusting each other with such a fragile part of yourself. 

“We made an oath.” Nico states, rather ambiguously as he looks down at the dark tresses of the woman. “When you assembled the Crusaders , we made an oath to do whatever it takes to not only defend the innocent lives of Rome – but to also be there for each other, to hold one another together as the storm surge of change would surely impact us all. I took that oath to heart, yeah sarcasm may be my mother tongue but I always make it a point to hold true to my word.” A breath is taken, recalling the times of a life he’d left in the past, the memories of his former home. He’d never expected to find a family of people he’d grow to feel so passionate for, Federico would be so proud. It was his untimely end that lead Domenico on the path to them anyway. “We may have left Rome behind us, we may have fought our war, but I still hold that promise to my heart. Even now.”

It’s funny how the two fought in a political war in a crumbling country for years, risked death on nearly a daily basis, and literally incited a revolution, but this right now seemed so much harder. Of course fighting an outside enemy was always easier than facing the battles that lay within yourself. “Calli…” He utters softly at her statement, unsure of what to say. After imprisoning himself to Rome for so long, he felt like he had to get out and see the world he’d kept himself from. He thought he was free from any ties that would keep him down, but he also never thought that it would matter to anyone. Clearing his throat and straightening his stance, Domenico knows what he must do. “Hey, look at me.” He commands softly before grabbing both of her hands. “Calliope Warner, you are the woman who brought love into my life again and I will never be able to repay you for that. But what  I can do is this.” a beat. “From this moment on you have my word that I will always love you, that I will always cherish and protect you, that I’ll do whatever it takes for you and Sebastian, and last but not least I promise I’ll never let go of you.” 

Calliope’s own words rang in her ears, slowly turning into a terrifyingly vulnerable mantra she may have wished she never uttered had she focused slightly less on the stitching of Nico’s shirt. She remembered why running was so much simpler than facing things head on. Things that weren’t in your control. The Crusaders had almost always been three steps ahead and Ethan made sure of it, but Ethan couldn’t send Calliope information now. He couldn’t hack into her mind and dictate the best course of action -- Calliope had to do it on her own and, by God, it was terrifying.

Her gaze lifted in time with the gentle warmth of Domenico’s hands around hers. Surely she would have rather continued staring at the rapidly blurring vision of his shirt, but Calliope could hardly keep her eyes from him. Nico was gentle yet firm in his request for her attention. His tone assuring, but she hardly noticed at present. Everything was new. Frightening. 

Calliope felt her chest tighten, preparing for any number of statements to fall from his lips. Life had congratulated her for considering the worst possible scenario at all times, but in this moment it only brought anxiety. 

She smiled solemnly at his assertion, taking a moment to breathe before speaking. 

“Domenico Vitale, I love you,” she breathed. “But you’re going to have to let go of me.” A beat. “What if I have to pee?” she managed with a straight face for four seconds before smiling. 

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

It was a relief to see Calliope opening up, despite how it made the man feel to see her in the state she was in, to see her actually express her emotions instead of shutting down was a good sign. The last time he was around the woman in an emotional state, she was all but catatonic as she stayed curled up into herself hiding from the terror that was her family. Never again did he want to see someone he loved in such a state, he’d do anything in his power to ensure that she was safe and happy – that she was loved and never left to feel like what her family had conditioned her to be. In Domenico’s eyes, Calli was someone that he’d been truly blessed to meet, someone he didn’t deserve, someone whose goodness reminded him what hope was still left in the world. If it took him having to remind her every day and night for reassurance, that was a price he was willing to pay.

Admittedly his heart dropped a bit when the woman mentioned that she went an entire month without thinking of him, not only because of his ego, but because it was the exact opposite for him. He’d spent most of his time trekking through the Continent of South America to try and find sort of solution to his internal struggles, which he did but not without cost. In the process of seeking himself out, he found answers to questions he didn’t even ask, both good and bad. This in turn meant realizing things he’d been ignorant to as he reflected on his life back in Roma, his life with Calliope. Every day since they had last separated Domenico had poured through every memory he could muster to try and keep a hold of Calli in his mind, over and over he would wonder what it would have been like if he’d followed her out of that door and done what he’d been too afraid to do. Now, after nearly a year apart, here he was.

Out of instinct, Nico reaches his palm out to rest on Calli’s shoulder, albeit a bit surprised by the words that he heard pouring from her troubled lips. Out of the entire duration of their friendship, she’d only ever mentioned her family a handful of times – in most cases as a cautionary tale, but never before had she broached the subject of her mother. His heart sank at the thought of a young girl having to watch her mother lose herself, at the very least he could say that his own mother was consistent in her substance-induced behaviors. It made him want to just wrap around her and keep her protected, but such a thing wasn’t necessary since Calliope was much stronger than people gave her credit for. That was one of the many characteristics of the woman that he loved so much.

“Well never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I’d be lucky enough to have such an amazing woman even give me the time of day, much less love me.” Domenico chimes in with a lighthearted grin, but still speaking in honesty as he did so. Long ago, he’d resigned himself to the notion that he was not the man that anyone wanted or needed. “The heart is an important thing to protect.” He states simply. “You and I are, in small ways, different people from that night, the whole world was falling at our feet and we had different paths. It would’ve been selfish of either of us to expect each other to ignore our path to chase the other – so I wouldn’t rather this any other way. Our paths aligning again in their own time, naturally.” With this, a strong arm pulls the woman into his embrace gently, kissing her forehead as he did so. “I’m a better man with you, Calliope.”  

Heart racing, stuttered beating induced by memories long forgotten, Calliope took several moments to breathe. Steady breaths calming a hurried pulse. In a moment she would have to address the looming cumulonimbus above the pair, but for now Calliope allowed the silence to linger, however brief. 

Vulnerability never came naturally to a Warner and Calliope was hardly different from her family in that respect. She had seen it as a weakness for decades and the only moments she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable led to the darkest times in her life, so she’d accepted that perhaps her family had been correct. Vulnerability had left Jaqueline Warner in shambles -- a puppet to be used by her father. Rapunzel who never left the tower. A beautiful woman poised inside the walls of a sepulcher, ready to decay and take her place in the crypt. 

Calliope scoffed lightly through disbelief. “Domenico,” she breathed. “You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense. You’ve always made sense.” Their friendship had kept Calliope sane in the darkest hours of Rome when she found herself being dragged under by the bloodlust and desire for power she feared would overcome her corrupt Warner soul. Nico was by her side in the trenches, wading through the crimson quicksand, but he always pulled her out at the end. 

The firm, decisive movement of his arm forced the distance between them closed. She took a single step forward, fingers lacing in the fabric of Nico’s shirt at his side. Calliope bowed her head only slightly, the warmth of his lips forcing lashes to meet. “I don’t want to lose you again,” she asserted through a sigh. 

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

Domenico in this moment felt like he’d just breathed in his first breath of fresh air in such an incredibly long time, nerves left him tremoring quietly as he was lost in this world they’d created in each other’s presence. It was a sensation that was both new and oddly familiar, in a soul that was trapped in a perpetual winter Calliope was the part in the overcast sky – bright rays of warmth sweeping over icy tundra to reveal the meek blades of grass in a land unseen for years. Choppy breaths are released in an exhale as the bartender allows himself to feel a soft and warm palm upon his cheek, more tears silently following as he leans into her touch. The tears were not in sorrow, but relief, unbridled joy to be in the woman’s presence. 

Something within had always known of these feelings, they’d been buried away in some subconscious realm as part of his coping mechanism, but without any warning they just came bursting to the surface and he was struggling to process all of the emotional information. Until an angel’s voice lilted through the air and pulled the man out of his mind. Four words were all it took to relieve the pain that seized his heart, to quiet the voices of his mind. Brown eyes find their way back to Calliope, focusing on the face that had stolen his heart so stealthily. “I’ve been hurting too long on my own to allow this to scare me away from something good.” He finally speaks up, regaining his voice after releasing his pain to the woman’s grasp. “We could both get hurt and there’s no way around it, but I will gladly suffer a thousand heartaches from you than go back to being alone.” With these words, he turns Calliope’s chin to face him again. “And I won’t let you go back to it either. You may have Sebastian but I want to be the one who takes care of you.”

A breath. “That last night back in Rome, when you walked out of my bar for the last time I felt so empty. I convinced myself it was just the closing of the bar, the silence, but the truth is I wanted to run out those doors and chase you down. You were the one.” The man wipes his tears and chuckles a bit before explaining. “Before Federico died, he was adamant on me buying my own business. At the time I was just living it up in my cubicle, gladly suffocating myself with mediocrity but he’d had it set that I needed to pave my own path and take a risk. He said that I’d find the one thing I needed most , god I thought he was so stupid then but – the day you came into my life, bright red locks and a head full of dreams, you became my one Calliope.” 

Warmth of a beautiful deluge poured over her slim fingers as they rested against the hollow of his cheek before she’d let her hand drop in time with her gaze. Voice drifting to the floor, the stain of Nico’s tears cooling atop the skin of her knuckles. She had resigned herself to silence for the foreseeable future, an arm crossing over her stomach to keep in what was left of her. Physically holding herself together as she had always been required. The youngest Warner. Forced to care for herself when no one else had the time. Calliope was never being groomed to rule; she’d been prepared to be married off for more power. Even her brother, though he tried, could not keep their father from doing precisely as he pleased.

She looked so much like David now. Her dark hair and crystalline irises would make them appear as though they were twins just as they once had when she’d defied her father’s orders and colored her hair at sixteen. Calliope was terrified she had become him -- another incarnation of their father. 

Nico broke through her terror with gentle reassurances. A hand guiding her gaze to meet his. A film clouded her vision until Calliope blinked and tears poured over her cheeks. She had spent so much time caring for Sebastian hoping she could provide him the family he so desperately craved and perhaps he would be her salvation. The one good deed she did to erase the sins of her bloodline. 

Teeth sunk into the soft flesh of pink lips at Nico’s assertion. To take care of her. Calliope gladly fought against the idea she needed anyone for anything, but she knew what being in his care was like. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time -- perhaps her mind was clouded by terror -- but she had never felt more at home or more safe than the hours after Domenico’s frantic pounding at her door assaulted her senses in the moment she’d feared her family had caught up to her in Rome. He’d reminded her of her strength even through everything. 

Calliope had lost so much leaving Rome. Priscilla. Ethan and Penelope. MAXXI. A life she had built and convinced herself was forever. The second life she had to leave behind. Gaze falling to the arm crossed over her chest, the corner of her lips pulled taut. 

“I didn’t think about you for a month after that day,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t dream either, but that was probably because I was hardly sleeping.” Calliope gave herself a moment to breathe. “I do remember waking up in tears every day after, but I never knew why. Even on the plane-- Sebastian woke me up because he was worried. I was asleep, but I was crying.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have been smiling, but the solemnity often brought out the slightest hints of amused reflection. “I used to wake up crying when I was a kid. After my mom--” she swallowed. “Stopped being herself. The first psychotic break.”

Sighing, Calliope looked up. “It would happen after every major loss and I assumed it was the life I left behind. Parts of me wanted to think it was William. God knows I wanted to believe that lie, but I started remembering my dreams once Sebastian and I got settled here and they all ended the same.” A beat. “When I was really little, before David became just like our father, he used to read me stories and he was convinced that just as long as we lived lives we wanted, we’d find what we were looking for. He was looking for power. I was looking for the type of love I read about, but that was a lie-” she shook her head, looking down. “It was all a lie. Everything I knew was a lie until Rome. Until you. That’s how my dreams ended: with you.” She forced a hollow laugh. “Living with the realization that I’d run from the one thing I wanted that wasn’t a lie-- well,” she trailed off. 

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

Domenico desperately re-traced this entire interaction in his mind in the moments that the silence lingered, frozen in his tracks trying to figure out how they got here. This was in no way what he’d anticipated and he was left reeling mentally trying to find something that would make all of this make more sense. But such efforts were pointless, there was no magic thing he could say or do to make all of this easier. He had, for the first time in so very very long, spoken what he felt within with no back up plan, no sass to hide it, no joke to lessen the impact. Nico was always five steps ahead of himself, he never spoke without some sort of mental projection of how the rest of the conversation could play out and a plan for his words. Nevertheless, here he was at the edge of the cliff, looking around at all of the uncharted territory that he’d been running from all this time. 

His words were true, ever as impulsive as they were, but that wasn’t the issue here. Over the years, Nico fought and built himself up piece by piece into this facade, this tailor made lie that kept him safe and happy – and with one sentence he stepped out of his facade. He was completely exposed and not in the least bit prepared for the implications of what he had said. It had to be said, in the moment his mind was clear and he looked at the woman and he felt love so strongly that he couldn’t breathe until he let it out. But you never think of the after in those moments. This was the after, the pressure and anxiety to put words together in his mind that the man hadn’t felt in years resurfaced as he gathered up the courage to be completely straightforward with her. “I- I can’t take it back. And I don’t want to. I mean, I just.” With his mind in such a whirlwind, Nico found himself just stuck for a moment. This in turn made him frustrated, he wanted to clearly put his thoughts out and make sense but nothing made sense right now. “Calli … I love you. I am so in love with you that I’m fucking stupid and honestly it is really damn scary. I am terrified that I’m gonna fuck up right now and that I’m going to say something wrong and lose you and that is something I really don’t want to feel again. I don’t know what I’m saying right now and I feel like I can’t breathe but what I do know is that when I look at you I know that I love you and I need you.” God a cigarette would be nice right about now. “This, us, is so much more than I could’ve ever expected and it terrifies me in the most amazing way. My life isn’t the same without you in it.” He was rambling, also very uncharacteristic of Domenico. “Yes, I love you. and no I am not sorry about it nor do I regret saying it. It’s the truth and Ican’t change that.”

Calliope desperately wanted to move, run, disappear. Anything but confront the vulnerability of two people in entirely unfamiliar territory. Terror would have been plastered across pale features had she not been stunned into silence and frozen in time. The artist felt faint. Confirmation looked as though it would never come and she would be left standing in the wake of the earth shattering revelation that she might have imagined. Wishful thinking was her specialty, after all. 

Glimpses of trepidation flitted across irises as they danced between those across from her. The silence weighed like lead on her shoulders, shoving hands further into shallow pockets. 

There it was. That word, again. Once. Twice. A third time. Four. Calliope had been looking for confirmation and Domenico had provided just that without the ability to explain it away. His cadence reminded her so much of Ethan and if there was one thing that cadence was known for, it was truth. So lost in the whirlwind of thought that tongue and teeth struggled to keep up. 

Calliope cautiously, slowly, pulled a hand from her pocket reaching out to gently rest atop his cheek, thumb grazing the trail one single tear had left. As she rid his skin of the display, it found a mirror in her eyes. 

“Nico--” she trailed off, lithe fingers draped across his strong jaw. The texture of his beard grounding her now. 

Her chest heaved with words that couldn’t find a voice. “You’re not--” a breath. “You’re not going to say anything wrong and you’re not going to lose me, okay?” She caught his gaze. “I promise.”

Calliope desperately wanted to stop there. To leave the assurance at that and continue on with her life as though nothing had happened, but she couldn’t. Not with him. 

“Nico.” Stop. Alarms rang in her mind ensuring she had said enough. Calliope fought against them. “Nico, I love you.” Calliope broke eye contact, her gaze drifting to the floor as the weight of what she’d said finally hit her. The words as much revelation as statement. “I love you-- and I’m scared. I- I’m so scared and I don’t want you to get hurt, but--” Lashes met for several seconds. “Being without you is agony.”

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

The air in the room seemed to envelop a certain chill as the conversation progressed, Calliope’s eyes which he’d found warm and inviting were now holding a more cold and blank. As a bartender, you learn to pick up on the slightest of microexpressions in body language, they’re helpful for knowing when to refill the glass or to ask personal questions in hopes for a better tip. But this was not the bar the man felt so comfortable behind, and he was unsure what step came after the woman’s shift in stature. It was inevitable that the longer they spent around each other, the more apparent their eventual separation afterward would be. But, he never intended for that to spoil the time they would have together.

“I know that.” Domenico agrees simply, if anything she was one of the kindest souls he’d ever met within the trenches of Roma. However, knowing a little of her family and their tactics he could understand why she had to make that fact clear – to reassure him and herself of the matter. 

It hurt when the woman shied away from him, turning her head almost instantly at the feeling of him coming closer. To which he stopped and gulped back the tears that fought their way to his throat. He wasn’t used to these things, being responsible for another person’s emotions and not being able to distance himself and watch from an outside perspective of blissful ignorance. He’d hurt Calli, and that was something he didn’t quite know how to handle at this moment.

Of course this wouldn’t stop the man from trying, he couldn’t just let this entire night go to waste because they’d be apart again sometime in the future. Domenico couldn’t fight the tear that came from his left eye, running a thin warm train down his face as he gently placed a palm on Calli’s arm. “To keep something around to remind you of the man.” A beat. “The man that loves you, Calliope. No matter what may be going on, or where you may be, that’s one thing that won’t change.”

Calliope had managed to slip her fingers into her back pocket, thumbs hooked outside desperately clinging to reality. A grounding exercise Calliope had learned long ago when the anxiety of being a Warner continuously threatened to tear her psyche apart. Take hold of something tangible. Run your thumb across it. Notice the texture. 

Rough. Worn. The fabric had marginal give from use, but retained its shape as she stretched her fingers. A sapphire gaze drifted from his face once more toward the edge of the room. Soft focus blurring edges. Her thoughts had not fully returned before Calliope was pulled from the confines of her mind by the warmth of a hand on her arm. 

Cerulean irises met the chestnut pair across from them with a desperation that was quieted by the sight of one brackish trail carving a path down a pristine cheek. Lips parted to say something -- anything -- but were forced into silence by a string of words Calliope had not expected. Her breath hitched and she froze for a moment. 

Thoughts hummed like fluorescent lights, parting lips though she simply stared in awe for several more seconds. 

Calliope shook her head, gently. “Don’t say things you can’t take back,” she breathed, desperate for confirmation. 

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

“I’m no art critic, but I have to say this might be one of my favorite art pieces now. Barring the fact that I’m unapologetically biased because my face is plastered in full detail in it, you’ve definitely knocked Greek nude wrestling sculptures down on the list.” Domenico replies lightly in response to being asked if he liked the painting, a smirk tugged on the edge of his lip. His words did convey honesty, though, Calliope knew he wasn’t one to fabricate a story just to appease someone’s ego – unless he wanted information from them. That life was behind him now, which left a more candid man in place of the informant he once was. Besides, even if he was bullshitting, she was the one person who’d see straight through it.

Arms crossed on his chest, Nico follows the woman’s movements with his gaze while he mentally reminds himself that this was real and that he was actually here with Calli. Her biting sarcasm that matched his own witt was something that he’d missed dearly, among many other things. “Aw, sugarplum, if you wanted to use my pretty face for a buck all you had to do is ask. Apparently it runs in the family.” He laughs, thinking back to those nights he watched his mother from the window, proudly marching the dark and musty Roman streets in her six inch stilettos like she was the queen. She was never scared or ashamed to use her body and visual appeal to her advantage, which he inherited. “I’d love to wake up to such a beautiful image of myself every day, but…” Big brown eyes look deviantly into Calli’s ocean blues, closing the space between them again. “You sure you don’t wanna keep it around, so you won’t miss me too much?”

Calliope found her focus drifting from the features she had spent eons remembering to empty gallery space behind Nico. She could not quite place the feeling, but Calliope suddenly felt off -- too vulnerable. Too open. She’d let another being watch her in her most natural state; the only moment where the brick and mortar so carefully stacked around her crumbled into dust. Perhaps it was the realization that he would be leaving. A realization prompted by his words. Perhaps it was the realization that he would be leaving with more of her soul than she’d left with him in Rome. Each visit would steal fragments of her essence. She hadn’t realized that perhaps she would gain parts of him in return. Though, why would she? 

“I’m not the exploitative type,” she stated simply, though rather firmly. Every Warner was the exploitative type whether they liked it or not. Calliope fought long and hard against the conditioning and she would continue to do so even now. 

Domenico narrowed the distance between them, but Calliope turned to look over her shoulder, perhaps to keep from allowing the tightly woven tapestry of emotion from unraveling as she peered at the painting through a partially obscured gaze. 

Turning to look at Nico, who was closer than she’d remembered, Calliope parted her lips to speak, but promptly pressed them against each other, shaking her head. Swallowing, she shrugged. “Now why would I do that?” she managed.

[coldcalliope]

painandvengeance:

In these moments Calliope consumed his mind, enamored by how simple it was to just be around her. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and no one could attest to that more than Nico as he stood gazing into the endless wonder and beauty that lay behind ocean blue irises. “You could’ve painted a really detailed pug where my face belongs and I couldn’t honestly care less.” A deep chuckle resounds from the man’s chest, his hand remaining on her cheek a while longer. He had no intention of offending her, for there was a genuine curiosity to see the end result of the painting, but Domenico found himself practically intoxicated by the presence of the curator. Never before had he so willingly conveyed such vulnerability, so openly allowed someone such power over his emotions and actions, but love is a powerful force.

“But I would love to see what a masterpiece this has turned out to be.” Two hands drift back down to the paint stained fabric of her pants, giving a playful tug.  “Ya know, mother dearest used to always say this face was worth a million bucks – perhaps with your skills in both painting and curating, that could be true.” With these words, the man reluctantly let’s go of Calli and takes slow dramatic steps backward. “Here goes.. the grand reveal of Santo Domingo.” He narrates softly before turning his feet to face the canvas etched with his likeness.

“Whoa.”

Reluctant eyelashes meet to blink, expecting a masterpiece but truly left in awe upon gazing upon the massive canvas in it’s completed state. “Calli, I–” Domenico attempts to try and place his reaction into words but fails. “This is.” He pauses once again. “Amazing.” Brown eyes glide over the surface of the painting, captivated by each and every detail her hand exquisitely crafted. The bartender prided himself in being a very self-centered man, prioritizing his own pleasure and well being over many things. However, the work in front of him left the man truly humbled. Nico is breathless as he takes in the details of his character as Calli rendered them, he couldn’t believe he was looking at his own mirrored image but from her viewpoint. The painting was obviously using realism, but it was the nuances and detail in the subtleties that left him lost in wonder; the sharp, fragile lines that characterized his lips, the small oblong scar on his left cheek, the depth of his eyes. “I absolutely love –” you. “how well you were able to capture my beauty. I mean damn, that’s one beautiful guy.”

Of course he retreated back to sarcasm and cockiness when he felt so exposed and weak to these emotions within him. He was so unworthy of even the small kindnesses that Calli had provide him, but this , this was on a whole new level. “Thank you.” He turns to her with a faint smile.

Never having had someone intrinsically linked to her art -- other than Priscilla -- Calliope felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat accelerating. Never had anyone been both subject and connoisseur. Not in this way, at least. It was hardly a subject study as it had been with her long lost best friend, but rather a character study. A painting of a soul as seen through the eyes of an outsider. The moment Santo Domingo became a saint as witnessed by someone with their toes planted firmly in the cool earth. Santo Domingo’s eyes a mixture of confusion and awe as he himself realized his calling -- his saintliness. That which had been evident to the outsider long before. And now here he stood. 

Santo Domingo. 

Witnessing a painstaking labour of idolatry. A promise never to forget again. The reflection of each imperfection coloured by its own true beauty. Crepuscular rays adorning humble beginnings. Santo Domingo through the eyes of a woman named after a muse. Calliope: the muse of eloquence and epic poetry. And yet there Domenico stood with his back to her, eyes scanning the painting, as her muse. 

“You like it?” Her voice was gentle. Timid. His wasn’t.

Immediately, her adoration and soft gaze brightened and the haze of reflection dissipated. A return to a posture more rigid than before, fingers plucking the paintbrush from her back pocket, feet taking her to the side of the canvas to place it in water. 

“Yeah, well maybe I’ll make a buck off of your pretty face and it’ll finally be worth all the time I’ve had to put up with you.” She shrugged, contemplating taking her hair down, but deciding against it. 

A quick turn on the balls of her bare feet brought her to face Nico once more. “Or maybe I’ll let you have it and then you can stare at your own face every morning.”