#c:antonio

[maribelsawyer]

@antonioxhill

to say that maribel was overwhelmed was an understatement--parties had never been her thing, hell--crowds especially weren’t her thing; and yet, there she was, directly in the midst of it all. with a drink in hand, she pushed her way towards the outer edge of it all, mumbling stuttered apologies until she was closer towards the backdoor. freedom--sort of, at least--almost too eagerly, the brunette squeezed herself through one more bunch before stumbling out the door--and right into someone. “oh, gosh, i’m so sorry--” she glanced up at the person before her, recognizing him immediately, “oh. oh--um, hi, it’s been a while, um--how are you?”

[maribelsawyer]

@antonioxhill

mari had reached the giggling stage of the night--a little less crystal lite vodka and a little more edible--every time she blinked it was as if she was part of an old filmstrip. or at the very least, a very realistic claymation video. her eyes scanned the faces of the people in front of her as she pushed through the crowd, hoping to catch sights of a particular person--eventually catching sight of a brief profile. “antonio!” she found herself calling out, slipping out from the crowd to catch up with him--immediately reaching ‘round to grab his arm and simultaneously getting a look at his face, ”christ, y’look like shit--” her words slipped out by pure accident, a surprised gasp following afterwards, though in the moment she hadn’t particularly minded her vulgarity--but rather the injuries he had acquired. “what happened?”

[a-bugz-life]

@vibrantflores replied to your post:

¿De dónde es?

Puebla. ¿Tu?

[xhheavensent]

@dukeofviseu

The past events, in which the whole court had witnessed the wrath of God with death and despair, where still fresh in her mind. They gripped her in her sleep and refused to let go of her mind. Creeping back in at the most unfortunate of times. She had long concluded that Switzerland brought her nothing more than misery and continuous anxiety. She feared not for her own life, for at times it had felt almost fulfilled, but for that of the ones she loved. An emotion that brought conflict, as the presence of her family was the only few sources of light she could still see. And now it was not only her intimidate family that surrounded her. 

Since the attack, the Portugese had started to assemble at the Swiss court. People she held very dear and close to her heart, but did not have the fortune to see very often. And now they were all gathered in a single place, but one that left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

One of the least expected visits was that of her youngest nephew, who had sailed many seas to join his family once more in foreign halls. The governor of Brazil was but a young man when she last saw him but now time had shaped him into a true son of a ruler. Or at least, so it appeared from the outside. And she found him, naturally, near the water’s edge. Sitting at the pond, where calm waters were a home to a variety of ducks and geese. “Eu esperava encontrar você aqui. Would you mind if I sit with you, Antonio?”

[luciadellarovere]

@infanteantonio​

When she had arrived at the castle gates, Lucia had been offered entry - at the cost of giving up the resources she had brought with her from Florence. She had refused. The price was too high for the reward, and thus worthless to her. The Grand Duchess knew better than to let things of value from her grasp for something she wasn’t even sure she wanted. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t willing to give up what she had. Her carriage was grand, and attracted attention from those fleeing the castle walls, those who decided she was worth trusting because she was like them. She had given food, clothing, and shelter for those who asked for it, asking for little in return, but knowing her goodwill would be remembered when she needed to call in a favour. 

Her carriage door was thrown open, awaiting the next noble in need, but Lucia was utterly relaxed. There was a book upon her lap, and she perused it, foot kicking the hem of her skirts lazily. She only looked up when the shadow of another visitor appeared in the doorway. “Welcome,” she called out, setting the book aside and raising an eyebrow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

[maribelsawyer]

@antonioxhill

it had dawned on her that antonio and her had never really...been around each other sober; their only exchanges had been over text or drunk and in person--and as much as mari had wanted to go ‘bout charading as some sort of confident minx--the fact that she’d never spoken to him fully sober had left an uneasy feeling in her stomach. sure, he liked her--when she was intoxicated and didn’t overthink her words--but god, it wasn’t authentic it’s the reason why mari finds herself at his door, knocking in rhythm with her own, anxious heart. “antonio?” her voice rings out, curled fingers resting against the door--maybe he’s not home? “it’s--um, maribel--”

[seojunb]

dianthusly said: With words.

That won't work.