1779 St. Mark's Basilica Venice Italy
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“Maria Di Natale!! Wake up this instant!!”
Lashes flutter open as he gasps, sucking in a sharp breath as he sits up. The plush pillows which had light indents in where he laid before puffed up slightly as he sat up. The faint smell of lavender and a powdering scent flooded his senses as he awoke. The sun sparkled into the room through the thin cotton curtains, Elena’s silhouette blocking the sun from hitting Maria as he woke up, the gentle wind that followed as he woke up was due to the window seeming slightly agar.
“Ah.. Elena, I-I’m awake now..”
He mumbles in a hushed voice, compared to his older sister who towered over him with a gleaming expression, a smile stretched across her face, her powdered locks threatening to spill from her even bigger hair.
“Maria, I swear mountains must move to wake you up..” she chuckles, Maria stays silent as he stares up at her blankly. Her eyes soften, before looking away, embarrassed that her kin didn't seem to be as amused as she was.
“Ah. well.. I-I was waking you up because Mama wanted to see you.”
She smiled gently gazing at her brother with a soft expression, her skin was dotted with moles and freckles, her lips were a soft plum color and her eyes were a sage, her oak colored hair stacked up tall,the colorfaded due to the powder. Maria smiled, and nodded before flopping back down into a bed, chuckling softly before speaking in a hushed tone.
“I’ll join you and Mama in the kitchen, I’ll just get ready”.
Elena nodded with the same gentle smile she had given when Maria awoke before slipping away, her robe à l'anglaise trailing behind her, the milk colored fabric slipping away as she closed the door with a gentle thud.
He sighed before looking outside the wind pushing the curtains to dance across the wooden planks on the floor. The smell of fresh greenery which grew against the walls of the Di Natale manor house. Maria stood up huffing as he closed the window with a small slam before turning to his vanity which sat in the corner. The vanity held a thin lace veil against the mirror. Glancing down at his vanity a small wooden rosary laid alone next to a vase of fresh lavender. He sat down at his le toilet before gently pushing the veil on the mirror away.
Maria had soft long locks of dusty blonde hair, compared to his older sister he seemed nearly opposite, his skin was a pale rose color however similar to his sister he had freckles and moles all across his skin. He had slightly arched brows but instead of an intimidating pull they may bring on someone else, on him, they brought a gentle calmness that seemed to only come from Maria. Hair covered his forehead lightly, they turned slightly to his right but they blended seamlessly with his hair that flowed down to his chest, his hair held a slight wave as it got to the end. His eyes were pale blue, like the water you see in Mediterranean islands, his eyes were slightly downturned as well but still wide like fawn.
Maria stared at himself, not to stare in displeasure but tiresome more than anything. He sighed as brushed his hair with his slender fingers before opening the vanity drawer. Out of the few things he stored, a small bible, a bundle of dried lavender, and a copy of David Hume’s A Treatise of Human Nature, and beside it a small pot of lotion. He scowled slightly at the book glancing away as if he didn't buy the book himself. He grabbed the lotion slamming the drawer close, which shook the vanity, the vase shaking, he gasped, grabbing the vase gently to calm it down. He took a fingerful of lotion from the pot before rubbing it against his hands, arms, and face and neck.
Maria made his way downstairs still dressed in his nightgown as he went to the kitchen where his mother stood with Elena, and Angela.
“Maria! You're awake.. Elena is back from Paris!"
Your mother gleamed as your other older sister turned to look at you with a proud smile. Her hair stood tall with a single ostrich feather, her hair was a darker brown than Angela, instead powdered, however her hair was a proud dark oak color. Her eyes were a soft blue which gleamed in Maria’s direction.
She turned elegantly, wearing a pale lavender colored robe a la francaise with a ruffled fan to match.
‘Clearly her husband has spoiled her well..’ Maria thought, although he would never say it to Elena.
“Yes! Of course, checking to see if your mother has married poor sweet Angela off, hm, I knew it was unlikely though, no one would marry a girl whose hair sticks out like a dead bird–”
Angela gasped pushing Elena with a small shove, in response she laughed as Angela puffed with annoyance.
“I choose not to marry! Unlike you… all you see is money, while you dance away at balls and parties, I’m here! Taking care of mama!”
She nearly shouted, in response Elena laughed louder, their mother, Margherita, smiled softly at the nostalgia of the scene that took place, however Maria had no time to waste on such simple quarrels.
“Mama, Angela said you wanted to speak to me.”
Maria pushed Elena aside as he picked his mother’s frail hands which were only slightly wrinkled with age. She stared up at her son with a soft smile squeezing his hand as she pulled him to the patio. The sun beamed and Margherita’s rows of lavender and other florals graced the garden before they sat at the stone table, the baroque style circular table with greenery already growing at the legs of the table, a semi circle bench surrounded, moss growing at the base and each had small flowers perking out.
“Mama, you're worrying me.”
Maria spoke sternly, his eyes glued to his mother as she sat down carefully, although she wasn't old, taking care of 5 children for so long had taken an effect in recent years. She huffed as she smiled, chuckling softly as she sat. She basked in the silence as she stared at the garden before speaking.
“Maria.. Someone is here to see you, I didn't recognise him. But he knew your name Maria. He was rich.. Southern European accent..”
She spoke in a low pace, her face still plastered on her face, the sun beaming on the two, the soft spring wind blew against them gently before Maria replied, in a less harsh gentler tone than before.
“I don't.. I don't know a man like that, what did he ask?”
“Perhaps he knew you were a Seminarian, so he asked for God's forgiveness for his sins.”
Maria scoffed lightly as he leaned his head against his mothers shoulder, slouching down slightly for his head to rich her shoulder. Seeming like a small child, his mother gently patted his head.
“Then he should go to a priest. Not a Seminarian.”
“Mn.. I agree. But he asked for you specifically, money means a lot, and you know Angela, she has no marriage to weigh her hopes on.”
Maria paused, closing his eyes in silent thought as he thought of the opportunities this strange man could give. His lips parted slightly, his tongue slipped out and wet his lips as brows furrowed.
Maria sighs as pouts into his mothers shoulder as he closes his eyes.
Maria entered St. Mark's Basilica, a heavy feeling already weighing in his chest. His cassock trailed behind him as he held his bible close to his chest. He began walking towards his quarters, he trailed through the winding walls that soon led to the long line of rooms, only one belonging to Maria.
As Maria stepped into his quarter, his breath seemed to be sucked out of his lungs, his eyes widened, his hand pressed against his chest as he inhaled sharply. His eyes locked with the other man who seemed much calmer than Maria. His legs were crossed, his back pin straight as he looked up at the other, even as he looked up at Maria, Maria felt like a mouse facing a wolf.
“Ah.. I-I’m.. You surprised me.. My lord.”
He was as still as a gargoyle, black hair that held a slight wave to it, it melted like black wax against his dark velvet coat and only stopped at the lower chest. His eyes, which were near to colour, held the fragments of grey blue. His nose was straight and held a strong presence on his face but did not dominate his other features. His lips were full yet his mouth stayed sewn shut, his bottom lip was more jutted out and fuller than the top lip. The bones on his face held a strong presence across the rest of the man's features. His eyes were sunken and his skin, oh, his skin was closer to a murky grey than any human skin. He wore a cocked hat which settled on his head delicately, his boots were expensive leather however it seemed the man could afford to let them have speckles of dirt staining them anyway.
He drawled in a sickening voice, his mother was correct. He was southern European. Although he did speak perfect Italian, although… Is Monsieur French?
“Apolgies, I didn't mean to scare you.”
Maria stumbled on his words, his voice betrayed his true emotions as fear followed each word he spoke.
“You.. you wished to talk to my lord.”
“Ah. Mr Marin. My mother had spoken to me about your request, may I ask why you have not spoken to Pope Pius, I’m sure he would have listened to your sins.”
Ilias’s eyes seemed to widen, he stood up quickly. The chair screamed against the floors as he did so.
“Niciodată!! Pardon… I wished to speak to you Maria Di Natale.
Men who hold such power in the church may not be so
sympathetic of my sins as you may be.. Maria”
Maria bated his breath, his heart seeming to beat faster and faster as Ilias spoke his name. He felt sick. Swallowing the bile that crawled into his mouth, he spoke, trying to sound gentle, just as his mother had taught him to be.
He seated himself on the seemingly discarded chair that Ilias was seated before. “Speak, my child.”
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