@gigilaboss - Tumblr Blog

Giulia del Bosque intro post

Giulia del Bosque, 58, has called Coronado home for all her life. As CFO of Sede del Bosque, her world is steeped in clinking stilettos against ancient marble floors, thousand poisonous snakes in her sheets feeling more trustworthy than one pound of someone else’s flesh, and the knowledge that she’ll never be wrong about anything in her life wielded like a diamond spear. Often found juggling tons of meetings, events, or office hours, she moves through life with Daydream by Wallace Collection in her ears.

bio | wanted connections | musings

#coronadointro #ridiculously too long for the lack of important things said in this #NOW IM READY FOR PLOTTING MWAHAHAHAHA #tw alcohol mention #if i missed a tw please let me know

matthewrhys

Rachel Weisz and Rachel Weisz as Elliot and Beverly Mantle Dead Ringers (2023)— “One”

#dead dash: *exists*#me: time for some rachel weisz #shiny mirror (face tag)#cigarette tw #is everyone ok?#i miss you all #the first gif is Giulia @ Tati

Closed starter @covetme Location/time: Museo de Coronado fundraising, beginning of September

The crowd parts as Giulia makes her way around the room, back from her cigarette break. She checks her watch, gives herself twenty more minutes before she can leave this fundraiser and finish the day's last obligation. Her eyes trail around the room, noticing familiar faces, until they land on her niece's perfect figure, backed in a corner by a man people usually try to avoid due to his utmost boring stories. A sigh. The girl never learns.

Snatching a glass of wine from a table, Giulia strides towards Monarosa and slips at her side, a polite smile etched on her face directed at the older man. "Hello Boris, I heard Luciana's looking for you, maybe you should try and find her?" Giulia suggests, and leaves no room for argument. Clever enough to hear her disguised send off, Boris acknowledges his defeat, and utters a fast goodbye before walking away.

"Monarosa, didn't we warn you about Boris?" Giulia asks her niece once the man is out of earshots. "Or do you just like to suffer?" It wouldn't suprise her if Monarosa had a martyr complex and thought she could save everyone else in attendance by occupying the man's time and making sure she was his only victim.

#monarosa 1 #hope its okkkk #no need to match length please

gracecapell

Trepidation seized her -- though she would never admit to such a thing, for she was not a woman easily shaken, hardly ever. Yet here she was, unmoored, as if all the decades she had survived so bravely collapsed into this single moment. Two figures stood before her: one her blood, her son, though it was impossible, unfair, cruel even, that he should look so much like a man when last she left him he was a child; the other, not blood, though the world had once conspired to make it so, binding them as though sisters, as though family. How easily they came together, while she had borne the harder path, the exile, the solitude.

And still it was she who stood accused. She hid behind her veil, her one shield, though she despised such cowardice in others, and told herself it was only the wind, only the dust, that stung her eyes. What did they know of sacrifice? Of absence? Of survival? Their very faces seemed to condemn her, pressing guilt upon her as though it were hers to claim, when in truth she had none -- none that she would acknowledge, at least. It was not her sin she felt, but their insistence that she should feel it. But still... was she not the one wronged, the one forgotten, the one abandoned?

Leave? The word struck her with a hollow clatter. She supposed she could -- she had left before, hadn’t she? -- but where would that leave her now? Thin, invisible, erased. Teodósio had never chosen his father; he had been an accident, a presence thrust into their lives, and though her husband had loved him fiercely, it was not the same. Giulia hadn’t been a choice of Emilio’s either; their closeness was decided at birth, written into the family, inevitable and unchosen. But Grace… Emilio had chosen her. Of all the people in the world, he had picked her, invited her in, let her step across the threshold of his world, and in that choice lay her claim. That claim to the grave, to this moment, to memory itself, was unassailable because it was hers by right, by desire, by love, not by accident, not by obligation, not by inherited closeness.

Of course she did not speak this aloud. She never spoke the full weight of her mind; she only thought it, composing a grand, furious soliloquy in the theatre of her head, as though the whole stage were hers.

“I am not leaving,” she said. “I have as much claim here as anyone.”

She let the words hang in the air, then turned away, moving with slow deliberation toward the grand stone where she had left a candle the last time she had visited. Her fingers retrieved a long match, slender and black, the kind she always used to light her cigarettes -- Aurevia, thin and pale as ivory with a glinting tip that caught the light like a shard of polished bone. The flame leapt, hungry and bright, licking the candle’s wick until it blazed steadily, throwing her shadow long and quivering across the grave.

And then, softly at first, she began to choral a hymn of the Ancients, a solemn litany that had no words for anyone but herself, directed to Emilio’s resting place. The melody swelled in her chest, reverent, possessive, and defiant all at once, filling the quiet graveyard with her unyielding presence. She was as steadfast, as immovable, as the stone that marked Emilio’s resting place.

tjdelbosque

His mother's name falls from Giulia's tongue like an ugly word or a bad omen. Teodósio tilts his head back and peers up at the sky. Perhaps he would be looking for omens at this very moment if he believed in them, but, much like standing around the tomb of a long dead man, he doesn't see the point.

'Will you be leaving soon?'

One corner of his mouth lifts. Bless his aunt for her directness. He watches a helicopter rattling faintly into their portion of the sky, before he lowers his head and finds himself staring directly at his mother. Or so he thinks, given the shades they are both wearing obscure her eyes from his vision as much as they do his from hers. More, because of her ridiculous Bride Of The Dead veil. Not that he'll give her the satisfaction of having taken any notice; his body remains stock-still, his expression as blank as marble.

... That is, until his mother starts singing.

Everything in the graveyard seems to go still just then. The wind is suddenly absent, the helicopter gone, even the insects seem to have stopped buzzing in sheer terror. If he were to dig up a burial plot this very instant, he has little doubt the deceased would be in the midst of dying a second death. Grace's voice rises to a keening.

His own voice is a low, disbelieving rasp – a discordant note in Grace's performance – as he addresses his aunt who's standing a few feet ahead, nearer to the tombstone.

"Let me know when you're done."

gigilaboss

It has been very rare to pinpoint moments when Giulia's soul has left her body, in the very figurative way of the sense, but it's also important to note that these moments have indeed existed. Today will be marked in the calendar as one of these top moments, aside memorable ones such as: Aurélie coming home with her first tattoo, Aurélie coming home with her second tattoo, her favorite brand of cigarettes that discontinued out of the blue, and quite a bunch more.

But somehow, none of these have managed to truly freeze Giulia in disbielief the way it did as Grace started singing without preambule. It takes two seconds for Giulia's insides to churn when she recognizes the music, and at least twenty more seconds for the shock to dissipate as her nephew interrupts the show.

Teodósio's words have barely finished leaving his mouth that Giulia looks away from the spectacle and anchors her own thunderstruck hazel eyes in his. Of course the little brat would want to flee, she understands him oh so well but ah. Not today. Please. Not today. She looks up over the rim of her sunglasses, making it sure that Teodósio catches the full seriousness of the situation. If you leave me here alone I will make sure these are your last minutes on earth. "Do not. Leave." She commands implores him, and if it were in her vocabulary, she would have said please. Still. She keeps her gaze on him a moment, trying to convey the myriad of emotions she can barely process and even less express, until a shudder of familiar agony writhers out of her entrails and she has to shake it off with a spasmic shrug of her shoulders, neck cracking, unwillingly turning back to the disaster at hand. She's too sober for this entire fucking day.

A spider crawling off her frozen prison, Giulia's legs find their ingrained tune, as she finally takes the steps towards the grave and breaches the distance, standing a few closer steps away from Grace. Smoke from the candles manages to penetrate her nostrils, makes itself home within the cavernous emptiness that defines a del Bosque elder. Giulia welcomes it with firm bitterness, angles herself towards her former... Friend? Faw? Another shudder, she clenches her hands, clears her throat filled with 25 year old inaudible grief.

"As always, this was superbly adequate Grace, but what is this farce?" Giulia asks, when the lament seems to be finished. A beat. The helicopter is omnipresent above their heads, and it ticks so many boxes in Giulia's accustomed brain. "I hope you understand how crucial it is that you had nothing to do about these reporters playing vultures above our heads, for a lot of reasons even you can grasp." Threat, as always in Giulia's voice, her sole language, but also implicit reminder that scheming that kind of sham will only lead to disasters. Would Grace truly orchestrate her grief in such way as to tip the local news about her procession? Would Grace truly keep her role in spite of her own son's comfort?

The back of Giulia's teeth grinds with pure distate, and she sends a last look towards Teodósio, making sure he didn't leave her and yet, as she catches his forelorn form, Giulia wishes even more for this entire moment to stop. Now. At least for Teodósio's sake. And also for everyone's self-respect.

#teodosio 2 #grace 1 #group 1 #don't look at me i know i owe so many starters and replies but look at this so much drama so much perfect disaster #so much to say #trying to keep it short hades save me #cannot write disbielief for shits

gracecapell

Grace drifted through the graveyard as though the grass were a stage, each step deliberate, rehearsed, even if the sorrow was real. What clung to her body were not clothes but a costume -- excessive in its artifice, a veil trailing like a curtain, black from crown to heel. It was not concealment but completion, the final flourish of an actress who lived for effect. To grieve without performance would be unthinkable. Tonight, she was once again the dying doe, her ballet resurrected in mourning, a creature collapsing in beauty for an audience of the dead.

Her mind circled Emiliano as though he still waited in the wings -- sharp-tongued, careless, dazzling. She loathed him for leaving her, yet the loathing trembled into ache. He had been hers, wholly, maddeningly, and now he was only stone and memory. She pressed a hand to the cold marble, feeling how stagecraft faltered before death’s finality.

“Why did you leave me,” she whispered, the words slipping out as though meant for no one but him.

The crunch of tires jolted her head up. A car, too close to ignore, creeping along the gravel. With a small, precise gesture she raised her hands, parting the veil just enough. But the figures were blurred, indistinct. Too far. Damn her for refusing the prescription glasses. She would not wear them -- glasses belonged to the meek, to those who accepted their frailty. Instead she squinted through her non-corrected shades, willing detail out of haze, straining to make out who had come to interrupt her scene.

tjdelbosque

"Busy, always." He concurs, but lest his aunt think he's trying to guilt her for roping him into this, he adds, "It's nothing, really." A double entendre; reassurance for Giulia, and a grain of truth Teodósio chews on privately as an outlet for his own malcontent.

It is nothing.

Because this anniversary means nothing to him, Emiliano's death means nothing to him. It's a waste of an afternoon better spent doing practically anything else. It's a waste of his temperance, a mask he doesn't feel like erecting for this purpose.

A waste, even, of the tread of his tires, which roll over the uneven gravel in the graveyard's expansive parking lot, creating microtears along the way.

He kills the engine, plunging the car into abrupt silence. There's a pause as he steels his patience, and then he's yanking the keys from the ignition and pushing the door open to get out. Giulia isn't so quick to follow. She's still sitting in the car, her fingers working anxiously over the handle of her purse. Teodósio rounds to the passenger's side of the vehicle, tugging the door open for her. He gives her a minute. "Ready?"

Soon enough, it's their shoes crunching gravel as they make their way down the path leading to neat rows of marble gravestones, each one more ornate than the next. His arm's extended to her, should her high heels get stuck on the uneven ground. But for all her hesitation a few minutes ago, Giulia's steps are determined as they weave their way towards— Fuck.

Kneeling in front of his father's grave, shrouded in a long, black veil, is his mother.

What kind of ridiculous-... Why is she here? Why does she look like Death incarnate?

He exhales sharply through his nose, annoyance fluttering beneath his ribs. Teodósio lets his arm slip from his aunt's grasp, allowing her to move forward as he hangs back.

gigilaboss

What the actual fuck? Is all Giulia can think as she lets the coldness take a hold of her at the ludicrous sight of Grace, wearing some sort of disguise that she can't even begin to comment. She feels herself turn to stone, her nephew's shadow at her back a shrine of protection, a shield she's even more relieved to have invoked today as she links her hands in front of herself. Dark eyes stare down, her heart pulses with the familiar heartbreak of standing near the grave of her brother, whose first cries to the world had echoed barely two minutes after hers. Warm air leaves her nostrils in a rattly sigh. She swallows the grief painfully, trades it with disdain.

"Grace." Giulia finally mutters in transparent distate. What to say? The distance between them is greater than the few steps that separate their bodies, it measures in years, decades... Betrayals.

Silence stretches a bit.

The stillness in Teodósio's form is louder than words, and Giulia lets herself miss the feeling of his arm against hers, a testament of the love she bears for him that she allowes him such closeness. Still, in the moment, there's no way for them to turn around. Del Bosques don't let others fill their spots, don't offer time, don't propose to step away, don't do acts of services. It is a harsh world for outsiders, which Grace is, now. She made her choice.

"Will you be leaving soon?" Giulia asks skipping pleasantries, because frankly she doesn't give a flying fuck how the other woman has been, she just wishes for this forced coexistence to stop as soon as possible.

#teodosio 2 #grace 1 #group 1 #emiliano and giulia were twins you heard it first in here #breaking the sunglasses chain sorry i don't have any left

honeysnared

tatiana smiles, slow and practiced, the result of a masterclass in composed disinterest, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. the one thing she's not entirely certain she can trust herself with around giulia. her gaze is always drawn to her, like the certain magnetism radiating from the other woman's had the capability to derail some of tati's hard-earned focus. something she typically prided herself on. which resulted in the deep annoyance settled in her chest whenever the del bosque orbited around her and rattled her otherwise impenetrable defenses. that's all she'll allow herself to chalk the tension in her body up to. "i suppose absence makes the heart grow more curious," she replies mildly, amber gaze unwavering even as her fingers tap softly against the stem of her glass. she doesn't flinch under giulia's stare but something about it needles her. maybe it's the sheer nerve of it. or maybe it's the fact that she doesn't want to look away either. a power game she's forced to play despite the unease prickling at the back of her neck. it's inconvenient to say the least. she loses the fight as her gaze dips just enough to note the exchange of the glass. so calculated, so smooth. a woman in complete control. it should make her bristle. it does. "i'll try not to vanish into thin air, then," she hums, the corner of her mouth lifting into something halfway between a smirk and a warning, "but i do hear missing things runs in your family. i wouldn't want to contribute to the tradition." the question that follows should have been expected. tatiana schools her expression with surgical precision, like she can feel every micro-muscle in her face trying to twitch with displeasure and is determined to keep them all in line. her jaw seems to set a little tighter regardless. "oh, you know how it is," she says lightly, tone lined in silk and subtle barbs, "family gatherings — someone always leaves pleased and someone else leaves cleaning up." a pause. "i'll let you guess which camp i fall into tonight." she finishes the rest of her drink in one motion. "as for the seating… i make it a point to find enjoyment regardless of arrangement. some of us have to be flexible." her eyes flick to giulia's once more, sharp and almost fond, like poison laced with honey. and though she doesn't move closer, the air between them tightens. tatiana isn't sure if their little exchange was meant to unnerve her but her throat seems drier than before, despite the liquid she just downed. in fact, it has ever since the other woman has stepped into her personal bubble.

gigilaboss

Giulia listens to the sinewy words spoken with a type of confidence she has rarely been adressed with. She's used to the usual groveling from strangers or from people who need something out of her. But what Tatiana offers her right now, cocktail filled with the accusation, the fire, the audacity, it all sparks energy into every fiber of Giulia's being, she feels warmth pooling under her ribdcage, toes tingling with anticipation. This play of cat and mouse is much more interesting than she would have first thought. Her smile stretches wider, she feels the movement of the skin rising above her teeth as she completely tunes out the rest of the room to focus on the other woman. "How sad, I thought you would have been the perfect addition to our... tradition." She replies, buying the chosen term with fondness. "We can always use a talented and intelligent woman such as yourself." She reaches out then, nimble fingers flying to the long red train that glides in the front of Tatiana's beautiful elegant red dress.

The fabric, so smooth and soft, glides in-between her touch as she fiddles a bit with it. A sharp collarbone appears from the movement, glowing under the room's faint lights. "At least, I for one could very easily find you some use." She offers, words low and deliberate, as silky as the dress's material. Giulia couldn't make a clearer innuendo, and she revels in the game, as always having the most fun playing with others and making them squirm. It's too easy with this one, she notices, as she lets the fabric go, listens to her words, basks in the discreet smell of Tatiana's perfume, takes in the glistening of her moving lips. She just can't stop herself. "I see, I'll have to make sure your expectations are met during the next event then. Maybe we could share a table, this time, no?" She can just as well lace warnings in sweet nothings, she learned how to manipulate before taking her first steps.

Playing with Tatiana's dress did make Giulia take a step closer to the other woman, was it the intention? Maybe, but now that she's here there's no stepping back. "Did you want another drink, Tatiana? I can call you Tatiana, of course." A question has rarely been more rethorical. She feels movement in the room, people milling around, but at the moment, none of it matters. Nothing matters but the ghost of Tatiana's dress against Giulia's palm, the amber eyes in front of her, the electricity of a lingering touch.

#tatiana 1 #could i make giulia more gay?#hold my beer

gigilaboss

It is the image of Teodósio exchanging a dance with the Shibata Heads that finally manages the impossible, and Giulia lets out a laugh at her nephew's joke. The little shit, she thinks. Calling her Tia of all things.

She tsks at his over-the-top fondness, but a smile is still playing on her lips. She's not fooled by his words but she still appreciates the sentiment, as though not everything that's exchanged in-between her relatives are perfectly manicured sentences which forever hide deeper meanings. One gets used to it, as one does when it's the language you're taught growing up. Which is why Giulia lets it all slide with him, knowing that no matter the foolishness, she can sense nothing else but genuine tenderness at the creases cornering his eyes, at the bouts of audacity no one's ever been able to educate out of him.

Teodósio is his own little boy, they used to say, and it hasn't gone better with age. "I'll be looking forward to these two dances then," She replies honestly and can't help but wishing she had a glass of anything at the moment as she listens to his next words. Of course he knows where her daughter went to hide, as always finding excuses to escape her duties.

"I see, thank you Teodósio." She itches for a cigarette but her pack was left inside. Beginner's mistake. She itches for a cigarette as much as she itches for the need to pat his shoulder, to make sure he's real and willingly spending time at her side. Then, she lets him throw his line, surely fishing for datas to use for his own gains. As one should do. Are her and Aurélie getting along? A question for the ages.

Giulia doesn't take the bite this time. "We're good." Could be better? There's no big quest there, what's been done was done. "But I need to check a few things with her, so I might go after her, if that's ok with you?" The night will be long: so many things to say, to do, so many hands to shake, so many shoulders to brush. She's tired thinking about it all and looking at her favorite nephew, so bright against the dark starlight, doesn't help at all. But duty calls, and Giulia has never been last to reply, on the contrary. "Let's not wait until the next family dinner before crossing paths, alright?" It's more of a rethorical question, as usual with Giulia.

tjdelbosque

Giulia's laughter, tobacco-husky and wine-sweet, makes for an uncommon sound, not often heard and not easily won. Two or three guests lift their heads to spare her curious glances amidst their own private conversations. Teodósio indulges her with a smile.

Sometimes he wonders whether his aunt would like him half so much if his father were still alive. If it were Emiliano standing here in his stead, bringing that doting softness to her otherwise shrewd expression.

He doesn't think so.

He's a dead man's shadow; a markdown, a compromise. And Giulia, as family treasurer, is good at holding onto things — oftentimes with little more than the sheer force of her will. But even she can't hold on to a ghost. His son is all she has; the only reminder left of a man whose gilded portrait gathers dust in Casa del Bosque.

"As you wish... In the meantime, I might go see if Beverly Shibata's up for that dance." He inclines his head as she prepares to take her leave. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

But when Giulia departs, he remains. It's Teodósio's turn to be haunted by the past, by the icy breeze that seems to lift out of nowhere, stroking his throat like the fingers of a dead man. Taking him back to years he'd rather not remember; to a boyhood he would like to pretend had never existed. One beyond Casa del Bosque, with two parents who were not Rafael and Luciana, sitting at the head of a very different table.

He's glad his father's dead.

Maybe there was only ever room for one of them — not just on the stage of his aunt's affections, but in life at large. Emiliano was a man better known by his associates than by his own son, but what little he remembers hardly inspires loyalty to his memory.

He was his father's child soldier, taking orders without voice. Acknowledged when he served some purpose, ignored if he did not. A princeling to be paraded before guests, a mechanical toy that impressed on command. Be it high scores in school or musical performances; be it by besting agemates on the playing field or the older ones at the gun range... It was never Teodósio who achieved, but always Emiliano through him.

Now Emiliano's gone, and wistful aunt Giulia is the only one who still sees her brother when she looks into her nephew's eyes. He can handle that — better yet, he can use it.

He has his father to thank for that.

// End.

#teodosio 1 #finished #beautiful end #i love them

rotvn

no one appreciates that i could be a million times worse

#musings #so true it hurts

Rafael, Emiliano & Giulia del Bosque (@1wayd0wn)

Killing Flies, by Michael Dickman

"My brother and I wipe our mouths scrape our chairs back from the table and stand up

These are the last things we'll do together:

Eat dinner

Kill flies"

#thanks so much for Izzy giving Emiliano an amazing fc!#it's rufus sewell btw #musings #by blood by death (del bosque tag)#so many feels about these three someone sedate me

unmarkt

Coronado’s identity, Coronado’s very soul, revolves around the del Bosques. Even so much as a flick of the wrist from one of their ilk—it’s part of the island’s canon as something sacred. This is merely housekeeping. A buffing of the stains that had accumulated due to negligence. “I wasn’t informed,” Fumiko says simply. “I’m not too certain of my family’s involvement.” And whether that meant something or not.

gigilaboss

It must feel awful for someone who's lived all her life in the shadows to realise that being kept in the dark can also bring such misfortune, is what Giulia thinks to herself as she identifies the lack of certainty in the young Shibata's words. "I'm sure you will be informed when necessity calls for it Fumiko, that's how these things work." She replies, hoping to reassure no matter the underlying insistance that things are never that easy with their families. "But that's not what I wanted to discuss with you today, do you have some time?"

#fumiko 1 #perfect for it being a post event thread !! <3 #maybe i can jump into our plot #wink wonk

tjdelbosque

LOCATION — Wherever the VIP Cemetery is in Villa Solana. DATE — Late August, 25th anniversary of Emiliano's death. STARTER — Closed for @gigilaboss & @gracecapell

Around others, Teodósio normally adopts mild, complacent mannerisms. Such as to avoid drawing attention to himself and blend easily into any backdrop at will.

He's wired differently today. Palm on the shift stick before Giulia's even raised her other leg into the car, foot on the accelerator not three second later. He regrets agreeing to it already, letting her wear him down into acquiescence. The sooner it's over, the better.

He exits her front lot and turns onto main road, attention divided. "How've you been?"

gigilaboss

Even as she seats in the car, Giulia keeps her sunglasses perched on her nose, plucks a strand of perfectly coiffed hair behind her ear. It's been 25 years, somehow. There'll be articles in the press, maybe some tv documentary reclaiming the same usual story, displaying the same pictures of the crashed car, of the twisted down body, the funeral, everything to entertain the audimat. Half a century since her brother died. The car purrs back into life as Teodósio drives away.

"Good, as usual. What about you, busy?" Giulia replies without much energy, words tumbling down like raindrops that must fall on the rich earth, taste of scotch strong at the back of her teeth. Liquid courage. She doesn't pay much attention to the way her nephew drives, keeps her gaze trained on the all too-familiar landscape. "Thank you for driving me," she offers simply as an olive branch, knowing she basically guilt-tripped him into this.

#teodosio 2 #grace 1 #group 1 #had to reply to this one i'm too excited sorry

misflung

It isn’t just the del Bosques; it’s the whole slew of ‘old money’ folks who have this incredibly specific way of being that confounds him. His mother is deeply entrenched in this pattern of behavior still. They hardly ever move. They talk in riddles. They possess a gracefulness about them that he doesn’t actually think is gracefulness. To him, it reads more as being in a constant state of reconnaissance. Always skirting, always assessing. Too afraid to let anyone see a wrinkle between their brows. It seems exhausting to have a white-knuckle grip on… well, just about everything around them and who they are. But there’s no point in dwelling on it. River knows it’s hopeless—all of it is. To try to get to the root cause of all this deadness, to try to find a better way to live. There is no better way to live. All he can do is take her offer with a shrug, “Menthols? I thought your family would have more of the fanciful flavors. My mother likes the fig cigarettes herself.” And so does he, at her insistence recommendation. He pulls out his matchbox and bids farewell to the last navy-blue sulfur tip as it scratches against phosphorus and powdered glass, and takes a drag. “I will never understand your family—respectfully speaking,” River chuckles, in disbelief at his own words. He almost mutters to himself, “So-called arbiters of taste… and you smoke menthols.”

gigilaboss

There's this air about River that seems as daring as the knocked-down knight, his smile an avalanche of sharp teeth that suddenly spark in the night as he lightens up his smoke with his old-fashioned matches. Giulia knows River's parents, is around the same age as his mother. She knows he was a handful as a kid, and she knows he's his own mess of a man, so she doesn't pay much attention to his remarks. It's a bit as though, one wouldn't lose their energy drying out their clothes under a rainstorm, there are irremadiable things in life, and River Masten being a little shit is one of them. She tuts at his words, lets them flow. Fig cigarettes taste awful, what's next, apricot cigarillos? "Well no one forced you to take one if you hate menthols so much. And I'm not certain there's much sense in judging an entire family's worth on one person's taste in smoke, no?"

She can't really smoke one of her cigars in public, can she? She takes a long drag and points at his pockets. "What do you smoke then?" She imagines him smoking a long vogue, or a badly rolled joint. Or a crack pipe, no in-between.

#river 1 #river little shit certified

unlegitimate

It's not that Andrea doesn't care about Chancellor Delgado's speech; it's that he does care, he just knows he's last in the pecking order to do anything about any of it. He puts down his fork while she speaks, politeness overwhelming his desire to eat the fresh peaches on his plate. It all seems so inconsequential to him; so there's parts of the island that will be designated as heritage sites, so what? They are heritage sites, the history of their home is important, they oughtn't forget it.

He's finally about to start eating his peaches when Giulia of all people moves to his side. Resisting the urge to have any sort of physical reaction - from an eye roll to an exhale that's just slightly too loud - he takes a small bite of his dessert, then sets his fork down again. The tension in the room is palpable, yes, but why? It didn't seem like a big deal to him. Not much is actually going to change, it seems to him that people are panicking over nothing. And fuck if he knows a thing about football. "Ninety days from now, a cultural preservation act is being implimented." It's very much up his alley, but he doesn't know how much detail she wants out of this conversation. "It's about attracting tourism to Coronado while keeping the island's history in mind. You might want to look into the new Mill Community Trust, she said we've made charitable donations to it." If they had, it would've been done in Giulia's name, and if they hadn't, he'd be more concerned that they were just spoken for. "She had all of these... diapositivas. About the different neighborhoods. There are taxes involved. Documentation will be available from 9 tomorrow morning. I'm sure you could speak with her tonight if you have more imminent further questions."

gigilaboss

There's a sort of buzz to the room that Giulia quiets out while listening to Andrea's summary of the presentation. He does it well, enumerates a few points patiently even though Giulia can read crystal clear in his face how done he is with this entire evening. How done he is with her, but she doesn't pay more mind to it than usual, she's had decades to get used to his beaten-dog act. Still, she swallows her surprise at how complete the presentation has been, she wasn't expecting them to start this big with the act. And she takes note of this 9am timestamp, but Giulia wants to read it all now. Tonight. She might go bother someone to get them before tomorrow. "I see Andrea, thank you. Noemi does have a thing with diapositivas, remember her Christmas special? Twelve slides per district to describe the decorations accredited to them... Do you think she makes them herself?" She asks and throws a glance to the person sitting across from them who seems to be staring a bit too much to her taste. It conveys the message desired and the person looks away instantly, focusing on their dessert. "Anyways, are you staying for the cognac?"

#andrea 1 #so sorry it took this long to reply i had no idea where to go with these two #giulia: ceo of bothering her nephews and nieces

tjdelbosque

The truth is that if he wanted to dance with someone, he simply would.

He's learned the steps, what little grace Teodósio might've had by nature whittled into something unnatural by the exigent demands of a prima ballerina mother. Even now, he remembers long afternoons being sent back to his room again and again and again and again if he made the floorboards creak even just a fraction with his toddling feet. To say nothing of the countless hours spent in children's dance classes over which he had no say, and no choice but to play his mother's marionette.

But he humours his aunt anyway, contemplating who he'd choose to dance with if he could bother with the pleasantries. "Maybe Beverly Shibata. Just to convince myself she's flesh and blood." Maybe ask her about her robot offspring while he's at it...

"Think Ryo would give me the chance?"

'Let's make a pact and promise each other we'll share a valse during the next ball...'

There's something about the way she looks at him, about the hint of gravel in her voice that betrays what his aunt is thinking about — or rather who it is she's thinking about. Teodósio doesn't share her decades-long grief, but doesn't rebuff it, either. Nostalgia makes for a strong bargaining chip, even he understands that. So if he has his father's eyes and Giulia finds her little brother looking back at her on nights like these, when the moon is full and she's had a few glasses... Well, he'll buy and trade and capitalize.

He'll use the currency of her loss to his advantage. "Of course, Tía... And if I'm rude enough to forget, find me and I'll make it two valses."

When her own daughter enters the conversation, he sees it for what it is. An attempt at distraction, a chance to pull herself together and smooth the past out of her voice. But he humours that too, half-turning to face the villa. "Yes. She was on her way out of the hall a few minutes ago. Presumably to the lady's room." It's relayed simply, matter-of-fact. He keeps tabs on them all, a moving mental map as natural to him as breathing.

"Are you... Getting along?" Now he's fishing, but with their history, who can blame him?

gigilaboss

It is the image of Teodósio exchanging a dance with the Shibata Heads that finally manages the impossible, and Giulia lets out a laugh at her nephew's joke. The little shit, she thinks. Calling her Tia of all things.

She tsks at his over-the-top fondness, but a smile is still playing on her lips. She's not fooled by his words but she still appreciates the sentiment, as though not everything that's exchanged in-between her relatives are perfectly manicured sentences which forever hide deeper meanings. One gets used to it, as one does when it's the language you're taught growing up. Which is why Giulia lets it all slide with him, knowing that no matter the foolishness, she can sense nothing else but genuine tenderness at the creases cornering his eyes, at the bouts of audacity no one's ever been able to educate out of him.

Teodósio is his own little boy, they used to say, and it hasn't gone better with age. "I'll be looking forward to these two dances then," She replies honestly and can't help but wishing she had a glass of anything at the moment as she listens to his next words. Of course he knows where her daughter went to hide, as always finding excuses to escape her duties.

"I see, thank you Teodósio." She itches for a cigarette but her pack was left inside. Beginner's mistake. She itches for a cigarette as much as she itches for the need to pat his shoulder, to make sure he's real and willingly spending time at her side. Then, she lets him throw his line, surely fishing for datas to use for his own gains. As one should do. Are her and Aurélie getting along? A question for the ages.

Giulia doesn't take the bite this time. "We're good." Could be better? There's no big quest there, what's been done was done. "But I need to check a few things with her, so I might go after her, if that's ok with you?" The night will be long: so many things to say, to do, so many hands to shake, so many shoulders to brush. She's tired thinking about it all and looking at her favorite nephew, so bright against the dark starlight, doesn't help at all. But duty calls, and Giulia has never been last to reply, on the contrary. "Let's not wait until the next family dinner before crossing paths, alright?" It's more of a rethorical question, as usual with Giulia.

#teodosio 1 #couldn't remember for shits if Giulia had already ligtened a cigarette in this thread or not #trying to head for an end because i need more of these two but in twenty thousand different fonts if that makes sense #nothing makes sense

sononatanellepocasbagliata

"...et la nuit me parait si longue..."

#🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬#musings #i have all replies drafts open in different tabs but guess what im not doing? writing them yes you're so right

unmarkt

“Tidying up Villa Solana—I’ve no doubt that the de Mortanges are behind that initiative,” Fumiko notes. “They truly loathe seeing anything that obstructs their marble arches, don’t they?” It’s a lot of nothing wrapped around a calamitous question. One she doesn’t dare ask explicitly. (@gigilaboss)

gigilaboss

"Hhm, do you think so?" Giulia ponders the question a bit, but it takes her only two seconds to come up with the following conclusion: "I find it a bit doubtful, would they be sagacious enough to be behind such a big project?" They're the ones who managed to build their tennis court in a slope, after all. She looks with insistance at Fumiko. "I think we both know who else could really be behind such titanic initiative."

#fumiko 1 #nearly two weeks late might be a new record #which i apologize for #fumiko please come fight for me

honeysnared

tatiana more than prides herself on her capability to navigate social situations. to turn them to her advantage, even. knowing when to smile, when to make use of polite laughter, maybe even the brief and passing touch of an arm — it's been instilled in her, woven into her very being since she was old enough to grasp the concept of social cues. there is little that shakes at the very foundation of what she's been led to believe makes her the perfect candidate to work in her field. what some may even consider to make her dangerous. and yet, giulia was the second del bosque who threatened to get under her skin. for vastly different reasons than her nephew, much to tatiana's dismay. disdain, pressure, the imminent threat of blackmail — these were emotions she felt far more at home with than whatever this was. not that she didn't know how to name it. she refused to. "how very courteous of you to trouble yourself with greeting me," tatiana finds herself humming in reply, the smile on her lips frozen in place. none of this called for a cheers. not the former presentation, nor the doomed position she was finding herself in. "why don't we cheers to our reunion? it has been a while, after all." if you pushed her for it, she might even be able to tell you the exact date she's seen the del bosque woman last. not that it was important right now, when there was a more pressing thought looming in the back of her mind. it's impolite not to look into someone's eyes while clinking glasses. the mental reminder makes something in her gut twist but she complies. social currency is priceless, something she's been taught she cannot opt out of and thus she holds giulia's gaze without looking away as she tips her glass toward the other woman's, fingers still curled much too tight around its stem.

gigilaboss

The sound of the glasses clinking resonates quietly in-between them, a dead beat, and it takes everything in Giulia not to step closer to the other woman. If it were anyone else, she would have already placed a hand on the other's arm, caressed it with soft strokes, before placing back the strand of lost hair behind her ear, but this is neither the place nor the time. Nor the person to do that with. "Hhm has it? Been a while?" She ponders aloud as she takes a finishing sip, -truly unable to remember the last time they saw each other, and looks up at Tatiana Dubois over the rim of her glass. It's the eyes, she knows. It's always been these hypnotic piercing amber eyes that seem to just see through you and which, even now, under the warm candlelights, shine as though someone lit a fire in each pupil. Giulia can't be the first to look away, it's a principle she applies with everyone, but it's even more important with a Dubois.

"Let's be careful then, or else we might start missing each other." A warning filled with mirth that leaves her curled up lips. She keeps holding that beautiful gaze even as she waives over a waiter carrying a tray and exchanges her empty glass for a filled one. Giulia has often been described as cold or closed-off, ruthless even, and she won't deny any of these, people think the years have let her grow distant and desinterested, she never married and only cared for the family business, what does she have to offer anymore? It's all too late for Giulia del Bosque, behind whom no one will stand but the shadows of her brother's crumbs. That's what they say, right? The thing is, people also seem to forget that these are nothing compared to the reality of it all, and how much these adjectives barely grasp the surface of Giulia's true nature. She still sees it all, this is still her game, and she's still a top player. And if she wants to play with Tatiana Dubois, you bet she will and you can also bet no one will stop her. "How has the night been treating you by the way," She asks, taking pleasure at the micro-expressions this particular question will provoke. "I didn't see with whom you were seating for the repas, was the seating chart to your liking?"

#tatiana 1 #get a room girls #i feel like it all means nothing but you know *waves at the empty air* words #WITH WHOM WITH WHO IDKKK #priority to the lesbians i don't make the rules sorry for replying so late

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