ravennarinaldi·.
A mass of black laid clear before them. Ravenna’s natural empowermentto strut about the room, tending to her dearcousin while instructing the Carlo’s to look after now the only child left.Shame, as it was. Giovanni was preserved as innocent as his life had been.Potential lost, she supposed. Not that Ravenna was keen to drop attention tosomeone else’s child when she cared more for her own. Spotting the girl, a waveof her hand as the sea of black parted from a distinctive glare. Long legsmoved about, as she slipped a gentle arm around her daughter. A child who would’venever mistook the mantle of power, the way her cousins did. “Bianca,” Ravennacrooned gently. “Do I see a chance of tearsfor your dearly departed cousin?”
@rinaldileone·
Even in spite of her best efforts, after years of dedicated practice, Bianca’s never mastered the art of crying on command. It’s a fickle skill that comes and goes. Today, it eludes her and so she keeps her head bowed, to hide the dry eyes and play at respect. Another body buried. Who fucking cares.
In her purse she feels her phone vibrate and her hand twitches with the effort it takes to suppress the urge to check it. At anyone else’s wake, she’d have answered without hesitation but Giovanni was family and while she couldn’t say she cared about him she could say that she cared about family.
The arm that winds distracts her long enough to make her forget her phone. Her spine straightens with her mother at her side. “Giovanni deserves something more dignified than that; don’t you think?” She evades the question, turning that characteristically empty-eyed expression to her mother. Idly, eye drawn to things that shine she watches as her mother’s earrings glint dazzlingly under the light. “It’s so sad.” Dully.
