giovanna-bellucci.
Giovanna had spent most of her life hiding in Italy, moving from city to city so no one would grow suspicious of what she was. It had taken centuries for her to finally accept her fate and she couldnât imagine how long itâd take for others to. The island was a safe haven for her, a place where she could live out her grandest desires without the fear of being ridiculed.
She straightened her back as she walked down the hall, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear. There was no need to feed at the moment, she came to the island with her thirst for blood quenched. It was important for her to find a human she could develop a trusting relationship or friendship with she wouldnât have to forcefully feed. She came to a halt when she saw someone who seemed like a good candidate. âWell hello there,  whatâs your name cara mia?â
henry found himself at the attention of an older woman, the language struck henry confused. he surely didnât speak it, though, he knew it was italian by the accent that bounced delicately from her tongue. truthfully, henry had as much knowledge of any other language as a teenage boy in high school taking french or spanish for a better grade. he was, undoubtedly, not proud of it.  so, when she offered him a piece of her culture, nervousness hits him, even if he tried his best.  â uh, henry rose. what is your name cara linguini? âÂ