#giordanarossi

[vincenzovespucci]

Texting - Giordana

Vincenzo: You and Dante look lovely.

Vincenzo: Just spectacular.

Vincenzo: More you.

[vincenzovespucci]

@giordanarossi​

One step. Two Steps. Now stood before the raven haired beauty, his eyes lingering on the full lips of her olive features for just a moment too long before they grazed the round of her nose and the sparkle behind her eyes. She looked divine, he thought, but his own features were turned up in a smirk, teeth bared in a grin. 

‘‘You always were a tease...’‘ He purred, limbs moving with grace and feline-like nature, it took no effort to cock his head to the side, lips parted. His usual disinterested gaze was turned with a fire settled behind the orbs that were on his features. ‘‘But you look magnificent.’‘ 

[vincenzovespucci]

Texting - Giordana

Vincenzo: Where are you?

Vincenzo: I have a hangover.

Vincenzo: Please bring me breakfast?

[vincenzovespucci]

Texting - Giordana

Vincenzo: You know how much you adore me, right?

Vincenzo: And how I'm the best person in the entire world?

Vincenzo: Wanna do me a favour?

Vincenzo: 😊😊😊😊

[mobscene-london]

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Giordana Rossi. AGE: 30. PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Loyalist. FACE CLAIM: Priscilla Quintana. AVAILABILITY: OPEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

“I’m not going unless you come with me.”

Well, apparently their leader was ever the dramatic.

Vincenzo Vespucci was going to London, with or without her, because the man’s loyalty to his family prevented him from doing anything else.

And as much as he couldn’t decline them, she could never say no to him.

Their first meeting almost four years ago (and about ten fucking minutes after he’d stepped foot in the city) had been striking, to say the least. They had been stuck to each other’s side ever since. After a brutal attack from a gang of Russians had left her bloodied—though the three dead said not defeated—she had stumbled into the first place she thought to seek help: the restaurant that shared his name. Vespucci’s often played host to the Sovrani’s infamous capos-only poker games, and not only had she barged straight in on it, but flipped their table when she’d fallen onto it unconsciously for good measure.

Apparently, she’d even spilled whisky all over his nice little suit.

Of course, she’d known who he was before then. Name and reputation preceded people like Vincenzo. The Vespucci family had run Rome for the Sovrani for decades, and even if it wasn’t in her blood like it was his, she was as much a part of the organization as any of the others. She respected those who gave up everything to make it work. It wasn’t the best introduction to the man who was now set to become leader of Italy’s capital one day, though, and if they hadn’t followed the blood trail she’d left back to a pile of bodies, she wonders whether she ever would’ve heard from him again.

He’d asked if they were hers. Those who knew her only laughed. Yes.

They categorized her violence by saying she was the closest thing they had to a Russian, and maybe it hit a little different because she didn’t really know who she was.

Giordi certainly felt like an Italian. At the age of four, she had been adopted by a Roman, Sovrani-sympathetic family on the outskirts of Valence, and they had loved her so completely that she refused to acknowledge the idea of having any other family. She spoke like them, she learned Italian from her new nonna, and she partook in all of her family’s traditions—the most important of which being allegiance to their Roman brothers in Launceston. Whilst her parents had never been directly involved with the Auditore family, however, her older brother had joined their ranks as soon as he was able with the knowledge that they would never look down on him for it.

Like the good, doting younger sister she was, Giordana followed.

The teenager took to the life like she was made for it. 

There was no real reason to explain away her penchant for violence—there had been no trauma before she was accepted into the Rossi family—but it sure became her trademark, quickly. Giordi didn’t adhere to the strict bloodline required of their Made Men. Whilst it gave some an inferiority complex, and pushed others to take stupid risks in an attempt to prove themselves, she always took what made her different on the chin. She was lucky enough to still be learning from the best. The young woman was adaptable; free of a pride which caused some others to think they had nothing left to learn. In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from running pitiful errands for those lower down the food chain, to becoming, in her mid-twenties, a go-to when people wanted someone gone.

Maybe her short temper and bloody reputation made her their ‘Russian’ but in spite of it being easy to say she wasn’t really one of them, they all knew she was.

As her friendship with Vincenzo developed, respect for her within the Sovrani grew along with it. The three of them (Giorgio, included) made quite the formidable trio when it came to Russian hunting. Whilst she was typically flippant to the idea of anybody respecting or looking up to her, it would be a lie to say it didn’t feel good for the appreciation she’d always known was there to actually manifest itself.

Vincenzo didn’t have a consigliere, but if he did, the Italians knew it would’ve been her.

Alessia’s murder changed the landscape of both the city and organization she called home, however. They had faced brutal wars with the Russians in Launceston for as long as she could remember—they’d already tried to take Alessia twice before they finally succeeded—but this was different. This, they had no concept of how to recover from.

Even though she’d only met Vincenzo’s cousin in person on a handful of occasions, she’d always been the kind of boss that cultivated as much admiration as she did respect from her followers. Even to those who didn’t know Alessia personally, the assassination definitely felt it. The Sovrani was a wounded animal in her wake; hurting, lashing out violently, but ultimately, desperate. They blamed the Russians. Though there was no proof, it became accepted amongst the ranks, and fury toward their Brenton foes grew with each passing day.

To lose Alessia’s nephew, Vinnie, to Russian expansion in London, was the last straw.

Giordi had no vested interest in helping the French—though it would be a lie to say she didn’t appreciate the company of some of them—but if it’s another way to wedge a knife in the back of the Vorshevsky family, she’s more than content to join the efforts to back them up. They have taken more than enough from her second family, and she won’t see them take more.

London isn’t about grabbing territory, and it isn’t about any alliance.

They’re going to the city to shed blood.

Giordana is content to stay, with Vincenzo and Giorgio at her side, until the Russians have none left to give.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. FAMILY: Francesco ‘Frankie’ Rossi (brother) CONNECTIONS:

Giorgio Pecatti: Good friend. Even though she’s definitely closer to Vincenzo, the humorous banter she shares with Giorgio singlehandedly keeps her sane. All three of them have seen some terrible shit during their forays into Russian territory, and he is more often than not the one she goes to when her mood needs a pick-me-up. Though she never imagined finding friendships like she has with them both, and despite the fact they can both be insufferable, she would be lost without them.

Sienna Auditore: Friend. Admittedly, she feels like she’s taken on a bit of a mentorship role with her, and even though it’s slightly overwhelming given her last name, Giordi is honoured that the Auditore looks up to her at all. The youngster reminds her of Alessia’s daughter, Veronika, and she knows that despite the fact the family protested her coming to London, she’s far too stubborn to have taken no for an answer. Giordana will protect her now she’s here, no matter what.

Aria Rossi: Sister-in-law/dislikes. When she found out her brother was coming to London too, she prayed he was leaving his wife behind. The woman’s naivety absolutely astounds Giordi to this day, and she finds it insulting that she still seeks peace over conflict with their enemies despite everything they’ve done. Yes, she will always be civil because she cares about Frankie, but she thinks the woman is a fucking idiot, and sometimes her face says it even when her mouth doesn’t.

Varden Lefebvre: Acquaintance/Ally. Though she’s loyal to the Sovrani to a fault--often to the point of ignoring other factions, even allies, entirely--the French assassin had plenty of opportunities to earn her respect when they crossed paths at shared Russian targets back in Launceston. Giordi is glad that he’s the one in charge of things in London. They’ve worked together on occasion and she both appreciates and learned from his talent for murder, but if asked, she’ll pretend she feels as much disdain for him as she does all of the croissants.