#req.starter

[initiatejacopo]

morning of the speech | vatican courtyard | open

They'd arrived at the Vatican early enough that the crowd hadn't filled *every* available inch of space of the courtyard, streams of people driven by curiosity still filtering in. It's easy enough to break away from Enzo into the centre of the crowd, where his face will blend in with every other, though he doesn't doubt that Enzo still knows exactly where he is.

There are flags snapping in the breeze above them, punctuating the gradual rise of noise. Soon, there will be too many people for him to move. Already someone nearly walks into his back, the free space around him slowly shrinking.

He turns away to slip through the crowd, when a hand catches at his sleeve, before the fabric slips through it. Jacobo glances back, before stopping mid-step. "Ah - fuck. Hello again."

[initiatejacopo]

late afternoon | five days later | florence cathedral | open

Jacopo doesn't normally find himself in cathedrals. Too closed in, too full of cold stone, now too likely to be found perched on its roof instead. Sure, his father had his duties and his political allies were all members of the clergy, hiding power behind religion, but he had followed his mother's lead and generally kept his distance.

It means that every time he steps inside, it is only then that he remembers how beautiful it can be.

He pauses in the entrance, wanting to drink in the detail across the ceiling, before he pulled his hood down further, shuffles into a pew at the back, watching the light paint the floor through the stained glass.

He doesn't pray, but he kneels there for a long time, eyes open. Long enough to watch the light turn its back, for the beauty to turn golden and red across the walls. Long enough for someone to slip into the pew beside him.