Vittorio @diraniari-archived-blog - Tumblr Blog

PSA; BLOG CHANGE

Hey you guys. I've moved over to diraniari for now! I've got my own account set up there and am looking forward to seeing you. No longer a side-blog!

#PSA;

fearlesslyfabulousfangirl

he smelled of righteousness, and she reeked of sin; anything but similar, yet still so alike; because together they radiated rebellion, and they loved each other despite everything.

but sometimes love isn’t enough // F.L. (via fearlesslyfabulousfangirl)

#musings;

wnq-writers

I am caged by the expectations I hold to myself and trapped even further by not wanting to let them go.

Eden Cyan

#musings;

Louis.

‘Can’t start this way’ && here he thought things were going OH SO WELL for the two of them. He knew nothing of the young one that sat before his eyes. It seemed this boy was working on bits of information as well. But, he knew enough to find him && ask for his audience. Louis rose his spine to line it straight with the chair; Perfect Posture for one who did not need it. A THIN BROW rose itself quietly at the question. Angels? Do even ones who shared the darkness with him still BELIEVED in such things?

❝ Would you rather a LIE? Or the TRUTH? ❞

There is the ghost of a SMILE that tugs at Vittorio's features. He who had played the thief for so long, who had murdered and pillaged the very same as those MONSTERS who'd done in his family so long ago. Matteo, Bartola, their youth forever preserved in his memory in the form of grimacing, severed skulls... This would be the same as that day in confession, he knew. But instead of kneeling with his head to the Priest's knees, he would sit here at this table and pour out his heart.

❛ If we're to be dishonest with each other, then our journey would end here. ❜ He sounded far too old for his face, and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. This man would have done well in his homeland, roaming and hunting in the mountains his father owned. He was as beautiful as he was wise, though Vittorio somehow doubted that wisdom. It seemed to him, even after only just meeting, to be weighed down by a cynic's curse. ❛ --I get quite wordy, Signore. I am sorry, but I like to paint a picture. ❜

He clapped his hands together, ❛ Yes, yes, alright. Honesty, then. ❜

#desouffrance #[ v: main. ]

BIANCA SOLDERINI.

Vittorio.

The name rings a bell, though she cannot quite put her finger on why. Not one of Armand’s coven, no, yet the connection was there somehow. She studied him curiously, head canted to the side ever so slightly. Italian, surely, with a name like that, and near instantly she longed to know more about him.

“You think me courageous? I’ve always thought Marius painted me as too weepy, but he remembers things the way he wishes to, I suppose.” Nevertheless, she smiled, pleased by his compliment. “I once thought to write my own book, to tell things from my own view, but I— decided to let things be.”

❛ God gave you a voice, you should use it. ❜

Ah, but it wasn't his place to say such things, was it? He kept his eyes downcast for now, taking in a dusty breath. How strange it felt. It must've been months since he'd last exercised use of his now-pointless lungs.

He cleared his throat and held up his hand, white-tipped nails glistening in what little light was offered. He probably should have put more effort into checking his words, into thinking before he spoke. But he'd never been particularly GOOD at that, now had he? Fix it, Vittorio, right your words! Ok. Yes, yes, no problem.

❛ What I mean is... it's a shame that you will not write it. But I understand. Leaving things be-- I should have learned a lesson like that when I was much younger. As it were... weeping over things doesn't make you weak. If those things mean to you what you feel for them, then it makes you brave. ❜

#botticellimade #[ v: main. ]

hecvte

Cracked ribs, spilled viscera, there was so much blood, there was so much blood, and a heart beating–I want I want I want.

Between my teeth [a.m.b.] (via exorcismhymn)

#musings;

Feel free to like this for a starter. I'll get around to them at my leisure, but a few may be done now.

#ooc;#starter call;

cantatrix.

although he looks YOUNG, with such angelic features so splendidly carved into a face of marble, many are his years in the BLOOD. vampire, vampire !! the word that seduces the BLACK HEART of humans — do they not crave the kiss of death, a strange IMMORTALITY passing from cold lips to an eager tongue ?? the golden ichor of mischievous gods. she laughs, so very silent, that she is but a vision and a ghost to his clever eyes. how she must look to this man !! PECULIAR INDEED, with a mind he cannot touch and feet that seem to float.

but she inclines her head, all gestures of an IMPOSSIBLE delicacy !!

❛ curious thing, isn’t it ?? ❜

eyes that sparkle, like BLUE FLAMES & LIGHTNING. a pretty laugh that hides itself on the corners of her mouth. the woman shrugs then, in a very human act, seeming almost rough and ugly and BIZARRE.

❛ did i trespass a private property ?? i’m sorry, i was just walking by… did you also come to see the stars ?? ❜

His breath CAUGHT, eyes lingering on the pallor of her skin. She looked at him as though he were an open book, as though she could hear the years his heart pounded to in comparison to how many he'd lived. Visage not one of spite, but of very MILD curiosity, he jams his hands deep into his pockets and leans back to study her again. It's not often he meets others like himself, after-all. In fact, he can't recall the last time he's really had company other than HER.

( Strange; she almost reminded him of her, though much less of a plaintiff, it seemed. )

❛ No, not tresspassing. ❜ He didn't answer her first question, choosing to look away from those cerulean eyes in favor of the starry night above them. His lineless face looks as though a statue, and in the darkness he nearly shines. ❛ The stars are here every night. Beautiful, but why so special to you? ❜

#cantatrix #[ v: main ]

BIANCA.

Her brow furrows, confusion clear in her gaze as she looked him over. “I believe you might be mistaken.” Famous was not exactly a word she would use to describe herself. Most knew nothing of her, and some believed they knew her simply from Marius’ writings. Never had she written a word of her own tale, and it was likely she never would. “I’m hardly famous. But you are right, I know nothing of you.” So young was he, and she was near instantly reminded of her lovely little devil.

She was pretty, like the yellow wildflowers that grew untamed on Tuscan hills. But well-kept like the climbing vines of golden roses, and those as he knew had thorns. Vittorio offered her a casual shrug, shifting back as to better see her strong and powerful jaw. He could feel the strength inside of her. Hopefully, he thought, she could see it in him, too.

❛ My name is Vittorio. I've read about you. About your courage. It's one of the few things from those chronicles I hold in high regard. Though, I hope you will not take that badly, and instead in the spirit it is meant, hm? ❜

#botticellimade #[ v: main ]

me-lapislazuli

First Light in Tuscany | by AdnanBubalo | http://ift.tt/1fYX02t

#&& home;#gallery;

SIGNORA.

What had she done to deserve this kind of pain? To lose her husband then her child all in a span of months? She was not sinful, she went to church every Sunday–life was good before the sickness. Madeleine always wished it was her instead of them that perished; at least her daughter would have had a good future. But now what was to become of her? She had no income, no name except the one she carried. Pride prevented her from going back to her family.

His words soothed whatever pain she felt, not by much but just a little. Maybe for now it would be enough. If she was patient enough, it would not be long until she would be with her child once more–if she was patient enough.

“You are right, Monsieur.” she finally spoke, looking at him, her eyes red and puffy and her cheeks tear-stained. “She is happy with God; I must bury her now–I must prepare everything.”

But Vittorio is not so good with comforting another. Not so good with holding his own against emotions he had once been so overcome by. He has never lost a child and he will never have a child to lose, and so he cannot fully understand her pain.

❛ I'm sorry, Signora. I don't know much of what to say. ❜ He answered truthfully. His heart did hurt for her, the same way his heart hurt for his own sister, his own mother, the elderly woman that helped around their Dominican Cathedral nearest his father's castle. Vittorio had once had a very big heart, had once trusted like no other man. Look, now, what it got him. ❛ ...do you want to die? ❜ The question slipped out before he could stop it, before the thirst in his throat had quickened his mind.

#unwantedfledgling #[ v: main. ]#(( I always felt sorry for madeliene ))

CANON DESCRIPTION:

“ I was sixteen years old when I died. I have good height, thick brown hair down to the shoulders, hazel eyes that are far too vulnerable to behold, giving me the appearance of an androgyne in a way, and a desirable narrow nose with unremarkable nostrils, and a medium-sized mouth which is neither voluptuous nor stringy. A beautiful boy for the time. I wouldn't be alive now if I hadn't been... I don't have a childish face, but I have an angelic one. My eyebrows are strong, dark, high enough over my eyes to allow them entirely too much luster. My forehead would be a little too high if it wasn't so straight, and if I didn't have so much thick brown hair, making as it does a curly, wavy frame for the whole picture. My chin is slightly too strong, too squared off for the rest. I have a dimple in it.

My body is overmuscular, strong, broad-chested, my arms powerful, giving the impression of manly power. This rather rescues my obdurate-looking jaw and allows me to pass for a full-fledged man, at least from a distance. ”

#headcanon;#chara!info

Are there any vampires you actually admire? or enjoy the company of?

--- ❛ No. ❜

❛ Someone once told me I was brave beyond common sense. I'd like to think I've traded that out, now. If you don't get mixed up with vampires, you're more likely to survive. ❜

Ah, but he was also called 'wise', he was also nearly CRUCIFIED by other vampires. His 'running streak' with them was not so good.

He thought of Godrick, of Ursula. All mere comrades of circumstance, and not anymore. Perhaps he would find the company of the newborns more bareable. He'd heard of others like him; Armand, Marius, Louis de Pointe du Lac. They were all written about in the 'Chronicles', and they all seemed wise beyond their years. But they were so prone to COMPLAINING of their supposed 'disposition'.

#headcanon;#wow this was a good question #and he's so done with it #Vittorio is cynical and jaded and not at all as young as he used to be #adsjfhkdaghas #Anonymous

SIGNORA.

“I wish they could–oh how I wish they could.”

Her face contorted into one of pain and grief, bringing the child closer to her, pressing her warm cheek against the young girl’s cold forehead. The young mother started to sob then, and she had thought so many times in the past few days of joining her precious daughter–heaven, hell and in between be damned. She knew no magic existed; that belief died with her the moment Alessandra took her last breath.

Madeleine was rocking slightly in her chair, and she wiped her tears with her sleeve, looking at the stranger; young and seemingly still so full of life. She was jealous of it, of that beauty and that vigour.

“Have you experienced loss, Monsieur? You would understand, yes? You would understand the need to bring them back–”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, looking down at that lifeless and HUMAN body with something akin to disdain. Yes, it looked like her. With fairer hair and gray skin the body reminded him of his sister, Bartola. God, he hated this. He could see no light within her, and for once he wished his blasted 'Gift' was wrong.

❛ I have. ❜ was all he would say on the manner, reaching down to press a hand against her shoulder. ❛ She would not want to come back, Signora. I've seen angels, I know they exist. She is with God now, part with her on that knowledge. She is happy. ❜

#unwantedfledgling #[ v: main. ]#(( si hallo! I am also iindiscriminate. ))

HEADCANON: I headcanon that Ursula was killed during Queen Akasha's carnage of her own kind. This was during a small phase when Ursula went out in search of new (and old) vampires as companions and she and Vittorio had 'taken a break' from each other. Upon learning that Ursula had met her demise, Vittorio was shocked to find he did not feel the emotional tear in his heart as he expected he would. How terrible he was, loving the woman that massacred his entire family. But perhaps more terrible was his lack of reaction to her death.

Personally, I attribute this to his almost permanent state of mind. Instead of complaining or looking back through things, Vittorio is in a constant state of survival, of chivalry and honor paired with a 'kill or be killed' mindset. Though it does make controlling his more insatiable appetite harder, as he has no one to help regulate him. Even after 500 years, his thirst seems unable to be quenched, and he has no interest in mastering The Little Drink.

#headcanon;

SIGNORA.

“You cannot help me.” she said as grey eyes looked up at the person, her voice hoarse from all the crying she had done.There was nothing that could compare to the pain a mother feels when she loses her child, and Madeleine looked at the young lifeless body in her arms, eyes closed as if she were only asleep instead of dead. “Unless…you know how to bring people back from the dead.”

❛ I'm no witch, Signora. ❜ Nor had he ever been one for magical words and incantations. Vittorio was NUMB to the effects of life and death. That image of his brother and sister's severed head held in his hands was embedded into the backs of his eyes. Each time he closed them he saw them there, bodies strewn across each other nearby. He thought of his mother, of his father, and of his failure. But then, he thought, I don't feel anything.

The angelic face of a child looked upon her. A young teenager with hazel eyes that glowed and curly, dark brown hair. Surprisingly muscular, as if made to do a lot of manual labor. ❛ People who are dead... they cannot come back. ❜

#unwantedfledgling #[ v: main. ]

Pale skin and blue eyes-- not one he could recall seeing before. With an eidetic memory, of course, that made narrowing down his list of 'contacts' quite easy. Vittorio almost never made an effort to reach out to other vampires, let alone those he had no intention of KILLING for what mortals would call their 'supper'. The Little Drink, after all, was not for him.

❛ You'll need to excuse me. I am not used to sharing my company. Regardless... here we are. Something I can help you with? ❜

xprodigium

#xprodigium #[ v: main. ]#(( alloooo ))

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Vittorio