taste of the devil

Maia Lucia Venturi twenty three public relations & venturi assasin

[viennaventuri]

Class had been cancelled for the day due to her professor’s son being ill, so Vienna was taking advantage of the freedom and spending the day in the city. The plan was to get some coffee and do some reading, perhaps get a head start on her homework and perhaps surprise Carlos with dinner. It wasn’t a coincidence that she ended up in the same coffee shop as Maia; she knew her sister’s habits nearly as well as her own and while she didn’t want to interrupt her schedule, she was hoping they’d at least get a few minutes together. 

She certainly hadn’t been expecting to see Maia putting a death grip on a cup of hot coffee and causing it to spill all over her hand and the floor. It was unusual for the eldest Venturi daughter to lose control over herself, especially in public and Vienna was immediately concerned. Grabbing a handful of napkins, she was at her sister’s side in a heartbeat.

“Maia? Are you alright?” The question was about more than just potential scalding from the coffee.

[maiavxnturi-blog]

Everyone had a weakness. Hades, in all his darkness was drawn to Persephone and even someone as malevolent as King Richard III was weakened by the death of his own son. It was human nature to care, and although little about Maia remained human, she cared for her sweet little sister. They were two sides of a golden coin, beautiful but complete opposites. It was because of this reason that Maia lifted a smile onto her face, the kind that was convincing enough to fool skeptics. 

“Of course, I just forgot something that’s all.” A lie, obviously. Maia Venturi did not carelessly crush things, or act like a clumsy fool. Her actions were meticulously thought out, but a sudden rage had forced her to act rashly. “What  a treat to see you!”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

For someone who craved control, dreams offered such freedom which she could not grasp which caused Maia to loathe her nighttime imagination. She had not thought about him, since she raised a gun and pulled earnestly against the trigger. The only sense of humanity remained in her love for Maia, but extended no further...not even to her parents. But as she recalled soft kisses, all the lies, lies lies, her hand crunched against the paper cup. Hot coffee spilled over her hand, licking her fingers with a heat as the container feel to the floor in a puddle. “---Great, now I need another coffee!” she exclaimed, shaking her hand. 

[aubriellenadir]

As Bri more fully took in the countenance of the person that Koda had stopped before – looking rather than blindly thanking – it was quite an immediate reaction to feel inadequate. This was mostly habit by now, a feeling instilled and rising in Aubrielle when she looked at beautiful or put-together women. Though her emerging reputation and proficiency in high society had curbed this somewhat, that did nothing to help her now, as she felt frazzled and clunky next to the serene brunette while she recovered from her wild breath. 

“Ah,” Perhaps it was girl-cult paranoia, but something in the sweet-blossomed anecdote of the stranger seemed – ready to be an insult? Aubrielle swallowed that feeling as she could, standing up with a hold on Koda’s leash and smiling. “If only that were the case, hmm? I should be so lucky to go after what I want with such a decided lack of inhibition.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

Intimidation, a fundamental asset to every word spoken. Her smiles were laced with cruel intent, gaze harsh as she relaxed into her place on the pavement, despite the little mongrel that sniffed around her. The name of the girl before her was almost on her lips, but it failed to appear in the forefront of her mind. She could certainly recall seeing the blonde around at events she thought to be exclusive only to the rich and well bred. Perhaps they made exceptions. 

“I suppose. Perhaps the dog feeds off your hopes and desires to be that way.” She stepped forward, nose turning slightly upward. “I’ve seen you around, haven’t i?” It wasn’t a question, not really, for she was certain of the answer.

[nadiarousseaus]

Her acquaintance of Maia Venturi had nothing to do with tradition or formality. They did not meet at some charity gala, or even through her Father. They were not old school friends, nor had run in passing on the street. The truth behind their meeting was of a more darker and twisted nature - when a shaky girl had decided to take matters into her own hands. One had delivered the sentence, the other pulled the trigger and made the body disappear from all view and significance. 

As far as the world knew, her Father was happy in Australia. She liked the poetry of Australia - it was where the Empire had once sent Criminals. As for his true location - six feet under some mystery, which only the girl in front of her knew. It was better that way - the less people who knew something, the less chance there was of a secret escaping. A secret which could destroy more than just her.

She wouldn’t say she felt uneasy around the assassin, but watchful of her tone, Nadia fell into step at her side, one eye hastily thrown over her shoulder to the advancing photographer. “Don’t suppose you can twist a few arms and get that creep to stop taking photos of me? It makes conducting business significantly more stressful.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

Maia didn’t care to understand the decisions of the woman before her, she had little in the way of power and wanting a father dead was hardly something for the brunette to concern herself over. The job was done quickly, details secured only within her mind. Whilst remorse was not something she was limited by, it did affect others, and even clients could turn into targets if their mouths ever started to spill. Nadia was a friend, but trust and loyalty were shallow in such a dark business. 

The desire to threaten for blood called to her all to quickly, as she gave a short nod before spinning on her heels. She walked towards the photographer, pushing her curls over her shoulder as she tossed a smile and quickly wrapped an arm around his. “I’ve seen you around,” Maia recalled, falling into step with the photographer who looked at her strangely. “I can’t quite remember where,” Maia lied as she moved to stand straight in front of the man, her gaze seductive whilst her hands climbed. 

“Do you know how many bones there are in your wrist?” Maia questioned, fingers slowly stroking the flesh of the man’s hand as a sinister smile lifted onto her lips. No, I don’t. Her fingers began to tighten, his pulse point thrumming as she lent forward. “Take one more photo, and I’ll break your wrist so quickly that your bones pop out and then you can count them.” Her lips pressed to the side of his cheek slowly, before pulling away and releasing her hand. She turned her attention back to Nadia, giving the smallest wink. “Sorted, sugar, now tell me about your upcoming business.”

Maia made an internal note, her dealings with the photographer were not over. She couldn’t have lose ends, people talked, and a mark against her name was not something she cared to endure. 

[devilalchemy]

As dusk faded from the vanishing point of the horizon, the other half of the city, unseen and non-existent by day, woke from its slumber. The kaleidoscope of the night skyline could be seen flashing bursts of light across the black ink of the river that snaked its way through Central London. There may have been a family with blood as blue as velvet and crowns balanced upon their delicate temples but here, from the shadows spilling into the streets and the moment the light seeped from day to night, the city was his kingdom. 

On an evening like this, there would always be the usual business awaiting him. A laundry list of responsibilities that could be micro-managed and plans to be executed under his meticulous purview. Tonight however, the air around the head of the Venturi family was meditative, brooding, and strung by a tension that seemed to invite the crackle and spark of thunder at any moment. To make matters worse, the bar he’d taken solace in, a proxy for Venturi operations, was crowded with half-hearted revelry and a throng of people eager to drink away the week’s troubles and the monotony of their own lives. 

Instead of persevering, Luciano abandoned it for the crisp night air outside. Mechanical movements swift and gracefully leonine, he lifted a cigarette from its case, balancing it between pursed lips before turning with a minute hitch of his brows. Like all the people who’d risen far and high enough in life to understand the value of appearance, he wore the affable gesture of a smile well.

“Could I bother you for a light? I seem to have left mine in another jacket.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

She had become a mere shadow, a glittering onyx jewel which hid between the riff-raff of society  as they selfishly clambered about, paying no mind to the other individuals. City living was full of self fulfillment, no one stopped to get to know their neighbors, or pay any mind to the suspicious occurrences that the average person simply shook their head at and carried on. If the air had a chill to it, Maia didn’t feel it beneath her coat, layers of black shielding her bones from winter’s cruel touch. 

Inky locks whipped in the wind, hands clung to the surface of her phone as she scanned the map once more, an irritated sigh crossing over her lips. It was the amount of human error in her line of business that put her temper on edge. They’d installed the wrong co-ordinations onto her phone, and the spot she’d arrived in was not her desired location. 

As her father’s voice ripped through the air, she turned her head with suspicion. She barely believed in coincidence. “What are you doing here?” she questioned, fingers stretching into her silk lined pockets to find the embossed lighter. The flame flickered, a small light illuminating the dark look which stung her face. “Oh, and by the way, whoever is in charge of technical instillation needs the sack. I’ve been given the wrong fucking directions.”

[dailywomen]

I don’t really watch a lot of TV, to be honest. I’m more of a movie girl, or I Netflix stuff. (x)

[genevieveinsp]

MAIA VENTURI CONNECTION AESTHETIC - Carlos Estrada

[ezradiamond-blog]

He gasps like he’s drowning. In a way, he is. The water is like ice on his face, but it cuts through the building panic. It jerks him back to the present, far away from that dark place that calls to him: seizing lungs and closed throat, pounding and irregular heart—those moments when Ezra feels close to death.

Perjury. Of the crimes that Ezra has committed since pledging himself to the Coalition, it’s only one among many. It never gets easier: he swears, he affirms, he promises—he looks the law in the eyes—and he lies. It’s killing him, he swears it is. 

Mere moments after he stepped off the stand he felt it: a cresting wave, a deadly tide, it carried him helplessly along. His exit from the courtroom was brisk enough to be noticeable, but not moreso than such a public breakdown would have been. He locked himself behind a bathroom door, stalls thankfully empty, to clutch white-knuckled at the sides of a porcelain sink and struggle to breathe, to try and push down the demons that rose and gripped at him—the result of some math that Ezra could never understand, never predict. Sometimes it was just one lie too many, one step too far, and they came for him.

The door rattled behind him, and he looked himself in the mirror: tie askew and collar damp, eyes red-rimmed with bags underneath. The only thing he could do to put himself to rights was straighten his tie and blot at his damp face with a paper towel. Take a deep breath and hope no one he knew was there to bear witness to his disgrace.

It rattled again, and he put on as convincing a face as he could—(woefully inadequate)— opened the door. “My apologies, I didn’t realize it was locked.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

Maia rarely found herself in the wrong place and on the occasions that she had, the viperess had always ensured that the end result was fruitful. As she swiped her signature shade of Chanel across her plump lips, Maia was assured within herself that she had happened upon the courtroom by accident, or perhaps it was curiosity. Regardless, there was a feeling, as though destruction had been foretold, like the preface of any book or the interval of a play. 

The floor glittered, the remnants of a rainy day imprinted onto the soles of those entering the law abiding building - or that was what it claimed to be. Every aspect of the world was full of corruption, her own faith in organisations outside her own lacking. She rarely trusted, and believed in even less. 

Like movie magic, she saw a figure retreating into the toilets and her lips instantly upturned. She hated Ezra Diamond, the same way her family did. Her father’s enemies were her owns, he said shoot and she said, which man? Maia only concealed her ire for the man for the sake Luciano, instead putting forth the image of a spoiled heiress, opposed to a ruthless killer - although both were aspects of herself. Her words were soft, yet her gaze remained hateful. She knocked against the door, strong and determined. 

It took a few moments, her impatient foot tap and a few curious looks from passersby before the man finally opened the door.  

“On the contrary, I was hoping to bump into you. I spotted your dignity in the bin and thought you might need to give it a polish. Or did you intend to throw it away completely with the rest of the rubbish?” The sentence spoken only in her mind, did not pass to her lips. Instead, her features remained neutral ( only by her own will to not give away her card hand ). “My apologies, Officer Diamond. I thought you were someone else, and hoped to catch them before I left.”

[aubriellenadir]

That was the lovely thing about dogs and the universe: neither had very much consideration for societal convention. It could also be said that this was the regrettable thing about dogs and the universe. For example: in the blinking quick moment after Aubrielle untied Koda’s leash from the bike rack it had been previously knotted to, the leash handle falling from her hands, and before she could pick it back up again, Koda decided to run. Which meant it had been decided for Aubrielle would also be running - or trying to, her ability negated by January’s iciness and the thin prong of her high heels - but with far greater purpose after her puppy’s form, whereas Koda’s destination seemed to be everywhere and nowhere.

Their chase down the sidewalk and Bri’s concerned shouts of Koda’s name ceased when she saw her dog had settled at someone’s feet. 

“Oh, thank you so much -” Bri heaved the greeting upwards as she bent down to grab Koda’s leash, her breath full of holes as she recovered from her brisk run. “And I am so, so sorry if he bothered you.” Aubrielle looked up with a smile at the transient hero of the day as she jostled Koda’s fur, pressing him to her side momentarily. Her attention went back to Koda. “This boys just a little bit mischievous.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

There were many things which Maia acquired, be it through her wealth or from the trophy room of trinkets collected by those she mercilessly hunted. None of them were animals. She could recall, on more than one occasion, a dog crying in the corner or foolishly growling, the soft-hearts of man’s best friend held no place in her world. There was one dog she’d met, his nature similar to her own, trained and perfected until it was nothing more than a dark beast with evil in it’s eyes.  

It was all Maia could think of, as the small, useless ball of fluff stopped by her feet, her own heeled boots halting in a bid to not trample on the pathetic thing. She smiled, the way she always smiled and lifted her head up. 

“Think nothing of it,” Maia responded, tone sweeter than demerara. Her hand did not reach out to pet the wild dog’s fur, instead her murderous fingers remained by her side as she shifted her footing slightly, to alleviate the slight strain caused from the pause on an uneven surface. “They say dogs mimic the behavior of their owner.”

[acciofrary]

adelaidekane: I’m too tired to smile. Who knew shrubbery had such great lighting?? 🌳 #forrealthough #ireallyneedtea

[king-windsor-blog]

It was rare he found himself alone — or what counted as alone, anyway, his bodyguard at a careful distance, a shadow he could almost pretend wasn’t there — and in the silence, Andrew almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Almost. He stood from his seat on one of the velvet-covered benches, glancing down the marble-lined corridor. Any moment now, a tour group would come sweeping through, and he didn’t intend to be around for that, turning on his heel and ducking into another room — only to find himself colliding with someone else who must have had the same idea.

“Fuck —” it was the first word in his head as he rubbed his arm, grimacing. A staffer, a guest, a tourist, all manner of people haunted the palace during the day and he hadn’t meant to say it. “Christ, I apologise —” That endearing, boyish charm came so goddamn easy to him.

[maiavxnturi-blog]

Maia’s visits appeared to be on Adelaide’s terms. However,  it was the Venturi girl who manipulated the situation, making it appear as though it had not been her idea at all. Of course, she didn’t believe the royal to be fool-minded, especially since she had been assured by her father. But she could never be too careful. As she was leaving the heiress, Maia decided to take a detour in order to make a phone call, only to find her body being hit by another, whilst the air was pushed out of her lungs in one quick flicker of a moment. 

She took a deep breath, raised her head and acted as though she’d barely been affected. “No apology necessary, your highness,” Maia assured, a slight purr to her words like the slick hiss of a snake’s tongue. 

[nadiarousseaus]

Visiting parents was never easy - but not for the reason you might think. Communication problems or intrusive questions were never an issue where her mother was concerned, they could sit in silence and be content. Getting there without detection however - that was a different matter entirely. Even when secure in the knowledge that her Father would never be back to haunt them, offering security to her family was the least she could do - but it was easier said than done. When meeting in a restaurant or cafe it was tolerable, when going directly to her apartment - she would try and find a way to duck out of view.

Pounding the pavements with one eye cast backwards, waiting for footsteps, she ducked in behind a pillar at the familiar site of a photographer - over time, you got to recognise their faces, some more friendly than others. Knowing that this one would do anything for a photo - she couldn’t find it in herself to forgive him, even whilst knowing it was their income and living - she paused, giving herself a chance to think. Noticing someone next to her, she approached them directly, keeping her tone direct - but friendly and light.

“This might sound odd, but could I walk alongside you? I need to avoid someone.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

 A lingering smirk played on pretty lips, eyes hidden behind large sunglasses as her heeled boots gave her the extra height that her petite body did not provide. But despite her porcelain doll like exterior, she had the complexity and multi-layering of a matryoshka. Her hand clutched a decadent hot chocolate, the streets of London doing nothing to disrupt her calm which came from the morning after a kill. Her bones ached ever so slightly, a silent reminder of her late-night activity. It was the same kind of ache which accompanied sexual indulgences, which a kill was just as desirable as. 

She pulled the scarf which sat against her black Burberry coat, closer to her neck as she breathed out against the cold air, her breath materializing into a cloud before her. Winter on it’s way. Still, the air was as cold as her heart. She was not easily spooked, so the figure suddenly appearing beside her did not cause a jolt of surprise, yet it invoked intrigue. 

“Come now, you don’t need an excuse to talk to me,” Maia purred, pulling her hair over her other shoulder to remove the curtain of inky locks which concealed half her face from sight. “Afterall, we know each other better than that.”

[micah-gladwell]

It was nearly two weeks into the new year, and the chaos of the holiday season still lingered throughout the city’s chilly air. These days, most individuals either took steps or were taking them in an effort to return to whatever routines had been swept aside in light of the celebrations that had long since concluded. Micah was certainly no stranger to this seasonal shift, having had his own fair share of stress while adjusting alongside the liturgical calendar. Nonetheless, a deep sense of gratitude was still embodied within his ambiguous outlook for the future.

A gust of warmth gently greeted him as he pushed open the door to a quiet cafe settled at one street corner. He wasted no time in making his way to the very back where the cashier stood. After placing a quick and simple request, he stepped to the side in order to allow the individual behind him to take a turn at ordering. Although the young priest remained quiet, he used the peripheral of his view to maintain some level of awareness of the patron now beside him. As the black and white clock on the other side of the room ticked away, he was suddenly met with the growth of some inclination to act spontaneously. There’s no improper time to offer a good deed, he assured himself, as he inched closer to the customer.

“Pardon me,” Micah began in a soft tone, sincerity reflecting brightly in his eyes, “I don’t mean to impose, and please forgive the forwardness of this. Would you mind if I paid for your order?”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

         It was not carelessness that prompted the brunette to enter a place far beneath her social standing. Nothing about Maia screamed luxury, she was styled but did not exude the normal wealth and prestige that came from her high birth. However, word had reached her ears of a a mouse-hole, a possible hiding place for a dirty little rat. The day was not about breaking bones, for that happened when night descended and her identity was concealed by a starry blanket. But a person’s habits were important to observe, the little tell signs when they think no one else is watching. That’s what Maia sought. 

She stood, bag looped over her left arm as she stared up at the chalk-board menu with internal disgust. She’d not find a delicious blend of fresh ground coffee in such a dive, it was basic at best. But still, she stepped forward to face the cashier as she made a somewhat reluctant order. “I’ll have a skinny milk latte with two extra double shots of coffee, with a touch of cinnamon. Then a Mediterranean salad, with chicken and extra feta.” 

She knew that voice! Maia turned, boots swiveling first as a smile lifted onto her features, “Father Gladwell,” she breathed softly, one hand girlishly tucking a stray curl behind her ear. He was one of her projects, like all the rest. A holy man, so chaste and untouchable called to her like a siren song, urging her to taint his precious glow. Her first tactic was softness, a false naivety paired with a soft smiled that made her look younger than she had in years. “How very kind of you! But can I ask why you wish to pay for my order?” she questioned, eyebrow slightly raised in staged curiosity. Maia cared little about his motivations, instead only about her own selfish gain. He was a puppet..like all the best.

[genevieveinsp]

MAIA VENTURI CONNECTION AESTHETIC - Vienna Venturi

[marcelloventuri-blog]

He hated this shit. The tie around his neck threatened to suffocate, despite the intentional looseness of the messy knot he’d hastily assembled. Unlike the robots that strode past, glasses of overpriced champagne in hands and noses in the fucking air, he wore no dinner jacket, sported no diamond-studded cufflinks — he considered it a sign of minimal respect that he had yet to roll up the sleeves of the button-down shirt that nearly cut off his wrists’ circulation. Marcello couldn’t remember the last time he’d been forced into a fucking monkey suit and asked to dance and toast and laugh those fake fucking inhuman-pitched, shrill, canned laughs that London’s elite practiced in the fucking mirror. On most days he found comfort in the revolver that sat comfortably against his leg, but security protocol was enough of a threat for him to begrudgingly agree to leave the piece at home.

Please. As if he couldn’t kill any of these stuffy fucks with only his bare hands.

His invitation had to have been a mistake, lumping him in with the remainder of the family who hadn’t had to report to their probation officers only the week before. If not for Sabina’s incessant whining about how important it was for him to present himself as a reformed member of society, feigning repentance until the eyes of the police looked away from the last name he’d “tarnished”, he’d have used the crisp invitation for scrap — to messily scrawl a grocery list later that week. Schmoozing was his brother’s game — and his sister’s, and his sister-in-law’s, and his niece’s.. He’d never had the tongue for it, never saw the merit of double-edged words or censorship for the sake of winning the other party’s vote of confidence for the night. Power belonged to those willing to seize it, not to those whose lips could paint the prettiest picture — canvas was hardly impervious to bullet holes. Neither was flesh. No, his reluctant stroll through the doors, hours after the ball had commenced, was but a means to throw his sister a bone. He’d be in and out in thirty minutes.

Maia was impossible to miss. She brought a half-arsed chuckle to his lips; cloaked in emerald, her martini an extension of those polished hands, she’d have the whole room fooled. He lacked such subtleties, his footsteps loud and heavy as he approached his niece, grabbing a glass of something from a passing waiter’s tray. It was guzzled down before he had a chance to taste it — something ritzy, he figured, that went all too unappreciated on a tongue that lacked such refinement. “An excuse to bring all the money in the fuckin’ city under one roof, and have them piss themselves over how generous the royals are?” he ventured with a heavy laugh, brows quirking. “I bet it’s a fuckin’ requirement.” He knew the royals’ game — it was the same one his siblings played, talking loops around each other and circle jerking the rest of the city until their senses of entitlement were contagious. His niece, though, was an enigma — one that, if not for the blood he’d seen dripping from those painted lips, would’ve been one with the society crowd. “Don’t tell me you don’t live for this shit.”

[maiavxnturi-blog]

          Her head moved slowly, neck coiling to the side, hair falling behind in waves of ink which barely compared to the darkness that withered her from within. She was a beautiful black rose, sweetly scented but full of death. She accepted the immersion of her uncle with little movement, a short raise of the head as her brow shot up, lips pulled together as her eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Careful, Uncle, the queen might hear your words,” she teased, although little in her feared the monarch which presided in the palace walls and upon postage stamps. She was a figure head, nothing more than that, yet people bowed before her feet and swore their undying love. She’d make every weak willed person bow, their bodies crippled with the pain she’d gladly inflict, evil sparkling in her dark eyes. 

“I was raised in events like this, my very upbringing a result of being in favour with the royal family. Or did you forget that my mother was and still is on very good terms with Queen Diana?” There was little in her that truly admired her uncle, not in the way she did her mother and father, who she desired to succeed with a glorious reign of terror. “Still, once you’ve seen one royal event, you’ve seen them all. Only a Venturi truly knows how to throw a night to remember,” Maia responded, a hidden darkness turning her last sentence slightly. A Venturi soiree was met by luxury, weath and the smell of death in the air. 

[archbishop-augustin-blog]

“Perhaps the Lord deemed it necessary to celebrate that which deserved his blessing; not merely that which deserved needless socialism for the sake of socialization,” said Gabriel idly, keeping to where he stood somewhat hidden within the crowd, mind the length of the grand mitre a top his head. Some might have deemed it pretentious of him to attend the ball as he did, dressed in his clerical vestments. He’d hardly taken a glance at the person beside him and once he did, he forced himself to keep from giving a double-take.

That little thing that Luciano and Gwendolyn had popped out some near two decades ago. Gabriel let his gaze sweep over the girl, her name not nearly escaping him. Maia. The pretty one. The brunette. The one who looked, in a sense, the same as Luciano did. Not, perhaps, in the way that her sister resembled her mother– all physical and nothing more, but in a more gratifying way. She resembled Luciano in the way that she carried herself, perhaps even in the way she spoke.

All in all, it unsettled him, and made him certain that the scent of sin in the air was carried by more than just the amount of debauchery that would later fill the hall. 

[maiavxnturi-blog]

     “Rulers are perhaps most dependent on the blessing of god, their own place upon the throne a validation, as though it is their divine right,” Maia mused, whilst sharp eyes fell upon the portraits of King’s past. Adelaide was with the minority, her face among few women. Although the brunette had not determined whether the reign of the crown princess would be as golden as Queen Elizabeth I or as dismal as the Empress Matilda. Not that it at all affected Maia’s only venture for pride and glory. The Princess could rule England and Maia would rule the world. The thought flashed before her, as she grinned into her martini glass, taking a generous sip of the liquid. 

The Archbishop was not someone that Maia considered to be of great importance, he posed neither a threat or any form of use to her. That being said, she was not foolish and she knew that even the cleanest man had the potential to uproot the dirt. However, her only manipulation required in the face of him was that which she gave any ordinary person, for he would not see her sharp edges and dark eyes that shaded bright amber into black. Her face settled once more, a cool facade befalling her features as the expected elegance and class of the mob princess once again took root inside her soul. 

She knew with certainty that she was the best in the room, her internal thoughts more cutting than a butchers knife. “Tell me, if you don’t mind, what is a man of the cloth doing in such a place of frivolity?” 

[genevieveinsp]

MAIA VENTURI - From one mother to the next.