Beauty from Ashes

"That’s why I write, because life never works except in retrospect. You can’t control life, at least you can control your version." — Chuck Palahniuk

[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!”

[viennaventuri]

Ignoring her sister’s insistence that she was fine, Vienna set her own coffee aside and grabbed a handful of napkins. Lifting Maia’s hand, she gently dabbed it dry, turning it over in her own to check for burns. If anyone could handle a few small coffee burns it was probably her big sister, but that didn’t automatically rid the younger Venturi of her worry. Fair eyebrows knit together in genuine concern as fussed over her sister; the risk of burns, while relevant, was less unsettling than the fact that Maia had momentarily seemed to lose her cool. If something upset her enough to cause her to crush her coffee cup in public, it had to be something big.

“Did the lid come off?” she asked, looking back up at Maia’s face when she was satisfied that her hand would be alright. “I’ve done that -- thought the lid was secure and ended up squeezing the cup too hard. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

[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. 

[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.

[marcelloventuri-blog]

The earnest disbelief in her voice was mind blowing, as if she expected not only him, but the world to censor itself on her behalf. “The world is crude, princess,” was all he snorted in return. He took a quick glance around the room, eyeing the well-dressed members of society’s highest circles as they twirled around each other, pursed lips pressed close to listening ears, gossiping and scheming and making promises none of them intended to keep. There was but one stark difference — he lacked the tact to keep his slander at a hush. “I’m not sayin’ anything the rest of these assholes haven’t thought before. Only difference is, I’ll say it to your face.” 

Love. It was amazing, how quickly saps like her could eat the concept up, devouring what childlike hope fairytales and carefully curated television shows fed to their all too willing hearts. Admittedly, he knew little of the concept himself. Lust, passion, obsession, he knew those well, but love was a force foreign to Marcello Venturi; love required selflessness, a quality he’d never known, yet one Vienna surely knew all too well. Love required compassion, sacrifice, a loyalty beyond oneself. No, he wasn’t built for love, and his unfamiliarity with the disease of a feeling made it all too easy to dismiss. “If you’re so sure about him,” he shrugged, “you wouldn’t mind putting him to the test then, would you? All it’d take to get some broad up to his room is a few hundred — if he send her right back down, you can spend the rest of your life together tellin’ me how piss poor my judgment is.”

If he’d been a bigger man, he’d have felt the need to care that a girl, barely twenty, stood shaking before him, her painted lips curved into a disappointed pout, her brows knit together as if she were biting back something far more difficult to cage than the apology she gave him — admittedly, for no reason at all. The stares they were beginning to receive from bystanders should’ve fazed him much more than they did. “And I’m not tryin’ to upset you,” he scoffed in return — not an apology, simply an observation. “All I’m sayin’ is, the world ain’t just rainbows and butterflies and happily ever afters. Thin skin like yours gets ripped apart, ‘specially when you’re too stuck in your little storybook to see it comin’.”

[viennaventuri]

Princess. It was what her father would call her, but he said it with far more affection. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that Luciano and Marcello were related, they were so different. 

His suggestion -- hiring a prostitute to attempt to seduce her boyfriend -- was so ridiculous that she would have laughed had he not been entirely serious. The fact that he was willing to throw away a few hundred dollars, despite the fact that it was pocket change to a family like theirs, just to prove her worthlessness to her wasn’t something she could wrap her mind around. Vienna didn’t know what to do or how to respond to her uncle. She could feel herself shutting down and wished for just a portion of her sister’s control. Maia would never let her emotions show so plainly on her face. It wasn’t something Vienna found herself envious of often, but in this case it would only benefit her. Marcello was right -- she was too thin skinned. Why else would his words be able to have such an effect on her? Her head was bowed before him, avoiding eye contact and making herself smaller. Maia wouldn’t bow her head to anyone. 

The problem was that he’d talked her into a corner. There was no right answer here. Either she agreed to test Carlos, a test she was entirely confident would come out in her favor but was also dirty and unnecessary and completely wrong and would likely make Carlos believe that she didn’t trust him, or she refused and allowed Marcello to believe that he won and was right about Carlos and that Vienna didn’t trust her boyfriend enough to test his loyalty. His loyalty didn’t need testing. She knew exactly how he felt about her because she felt the same way about him. It was better for Marcello to think poorly of her than for Carlos to be put through something like that. 

“You’re right,” she said softly after a long beat. “Please forgive me. I, uh, I should go freshen up. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let you get back to...” Her voice trailed off here. Get back to what, exactly? His drink? His sulking? Neither were appropriate to say even if they were true. Instead, she just shook her head, her face painfully pale. “Excuse me.” 

[viennaventuri]

Vienna Venturi Moodboard [3-?] -- Venturi Family

[viennaventuri]

[sacredsavage-blog]

@viennaventuri​

It was a dirty, filthy habit she had pretended to give up years ago. 

Cigarettes had long ago ceased to be the status symbol they once were, in their glossy little boxes with touches of ebony-black and gold foil. In a smear campaign so thorough it made her head spin, Gwendolyn had watched her oldest vice drag through the mud. Somehow, leaning in to lower her lashes and take a light from the extended hand of a handsome gentleman had morphed into little pictures of blackened lungs and hearts that looked like mincemeat, splayed out in grotesque detail. 

Smoking was, of course, one of the habits her darling youngest considered most reprehensible. Smoking was, of course, one of the habits Gwendolyn needed the most just to get through a day with said aforementioned daughter. 

The second Thursday of each month was set aside for a day of sloth and gluttony alike with her husband’s golden girl. Time with Vienna must be penciled in; Gwendolyn could hardly bear her company without ample preparation, of course. Sunday mass and Sunday dinners were, at least, weathered in the company of Luciano and Maia at the very least– a buffer of sorts between soft, sweet Vienna and the razor-sharp facade of the so-called mother who threatened with every untempered look to shred her to pieces. It took restraint to handle Vienna with the kid gloves that came so naturally to Luc and Maia both. Gwendolyn, so refined and so polished-glass smooth, had somehow never learned to hide contempt. 

It wasn’t that she hated Vienna so much as that she hated what Vienna was becoming. They had raised a Diamond who carried herself higher and mightier than any Venturi of true blood could; how had she failed so completely with the girl who’d been bred for her station? Vienna’s guileless smile was ever a reminder of Gwendolyn’s own shortcomings. Somehow, the girl had wound up with all of the very worst qualities of both her mother and father and father in earnest. It was a screaming, crying shame. Had Vienna taken a different path, she might have posed a threat to even Maia’s position. 

So Gwendolyn chain-smoked her cigarettes in the farthest, darkest corner of the garden in their courtyard, bracing herself for–

Fuck. “It isn’t yet half past, daughter. I said I’d meet you at the car.” 

[viennaventuri]

On a typical day Vienna’s hair was left loose and slightly messy, tumbling in loose waves down her back nearly to her waist. Today, however was a day set aside for papering with her mother; Gwendolyn never left the house looking anything less than perfect and put together and on days spent solely with her formidable mother, Vienna tried to do the same. Vanity had never been her biggest vice, but the less she could give her mother to pick on the better. It wasn’t that Gwendolyn was constantly looking for fault in her youngest, but even without searching she would find it. It had never been a secret that Vienna didn’t -- couldn’t -- live up to her mother’s hopes for her. 

And still she did her best. Her hair was still parted down the center, but the sides were swept back in two small braids that met at the back of her skull and the waves weren’t messy and tangled. Slim fit jeans hugged her long legs as usual, but for once they weren’t capped by flats or worse, converse tennis shoes but a pretty peep-toed heel. Her white blouse had been ironed to perfection, her jewelry and makeup kept simple and understated. She might not ever be able to make her mother proud, but at least she wouldn’t embarrass her.

She was even ready to leave a bit early -- a rarity when she had to dedicate so much time and effort to looking effortless. 

Descending the stairs she glanced around, but Gwendolyn was nowhere to be found. There was still a good fifteen minutes before the pair had agreed to leave, but she didn’t want to keep her mother waiting. After asking a few of the household staff, Vienna was directed out to the garden. It wasn’t difficult to follow the cloud of smoke to her mother’s location. She wrinkled her nose. How could a woman as smart as Gwendolyn still smoke? Vienna didn’t understand it at all. Gwendolyn noticed her then and Vienna quickly schooled her expression as she closed the distance between them. 

“It isn’t yet half past, daughter. I said I’d meet you at the car.” 

Oh. It was a simple statement but full of reproach and Vienna stopped short. 

“I didn’t mean to rush you, mother,” she said in an apologetic tone, “I was just ready a bit early. I didn’t want you to have to wait on me. Really, there’s no hurry, I can meet you at he car if you’d like to, uh, finish...”

[blondiepsychedelique]

[viennaventuri]

Vienna Venturi Aesthetic [1-?]

[viennaventuri]

[viennaventuri]

[viennaventuri]

[devilalchemy]

@viennaventuri

A castle fit for a princess, and the daughter of a king. One wouldn’t be too far from the mark if that was what came into mind upon laying eyes on the terrace building that sprawled across an entire block on St James’ Street. Little did they know, the castle was also a stronghold of a fortress. Before his darling daughter had even made arrangements to move in, he’d bought out the entire block, installed surveillance for every square meter and hired a 24/7 guard detail. 

For her protection, Luciano had always said. The weekly updates and monitoring were simply a reassurance.

Vienna had taken to the apartment building with fervent delight. Nothing but the best for his girl, in true fashion. If she’d had any prior reservations about her bodyguards, the team of interior decorators and architects brought in to facilitate her every desire had swiftly put an end to that. And the added bonus of being landlord and owner of the building was frequent information on the whereabouts of certain individuals he’d put on a specific blacklist. One Carlos Estrada, for example. 

Tonight was the evening of one of their dinners, a time for father and daughter to catch up on the events of the past few days, and for Luciano to spend a cherished meal with the only member of his family uninvolved with the business. And after a long hellish week with both Venturi Logistics and his reign as king of the underworld, there was something gratifying about sitting down for home-cooked food with a soul who knew nothing about the things he did to preserve their way of life. A daughter who looked at him as if he were still the hero in all her childhood stories. 

“So,” he said, lingering in the kitchen as Vienna put the finishing touches on two plates laden with their evening meal  ––  a feast for the eyes and absolutely heavenly by the smell of it. “What are we having tonight?”

[viennaventuri]

When Luciano had first brought up the prospect of Vienna moving, she’d resisted. Her program would let her continue to live on campus if she chose, and while many of her classmates were moving off, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to do the same. Still, there were few things she’d truly fight her father on and seeing his excitement in helping her get the flat to be exactly what she wanted, plus a place she could maintain after graduating, she was convinced. It had been fun picking out all the details and working with the designers to get the flat to match her style. It was far too big a place for just her, but she loved it anyway, especially the upgrades that had been done to the kitchen and the bathroom. 

Nearly everything in the place was new. The soft carpet covering the hardwood floors, the deep sofa and coordinating armchair, the television, the appliances, even the dishes were brand new and sparkling. No mismatched or hand-me-down furniture like most university students; no, her father had spared no expense. Only the best for his little girl. It made him happy to spoil her and she knew it offered him peace of mind for her to live closer to home and in a place with serious security. 

She wanted him to know how grateful she was for his efforts on her behalf, which was why she’d spent most of the day getting ready for their dinner. Vienna wasn’t a gourmet cook by any means, but it seemed ridiculous not to use the gorgeous kitchen in her new home for her father’s first visit to the finished product. Settling on cooking something simple, she’d decided to make pasta and homemade sauce using her grandmother’s recipe. She’d cheated a bit and bought rather than baked a loaf of french bread that was now cut in half, topped with garlic butter and cheese, and browned in the oven. 

“Nothing too fancy,” she answered as she dished out the pasta and sauce, adding a little bit of cheese and bit of parsley to garnish the plates. “Just your basic Italian. We’ve got salad, pasta, Grandma’s sauce, and garlic bread. Oh, and I’ve got some ice cream in the freezer if you’re interested in desert later.” Vienna smiled at him and passed him his plate, “It won’t be as good as Grandma’s but I tried. So what do you think of the place? They did a great job, didn’t they?”

[lifeismerelymadness]

There will always be better writers than you and there will always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or that but, you are the only you. There are better writers out there than me, people who can plot better. But there’s nobody who can write a Neil Gaiman story like I can.

Neil Gaiman (via lifeismerelymadness)

[photoromp]

[nadiarousseaus]

The blonde seemed familiar - although Nadia couldn’t place her face in anyone she could identify. More as if she were the daughter or sister of someone she had encountered before. Her eyes were different though - Nadia could see the genuine kindness reflected back at her, a readiness to help, irrelevant of the situation or the people that were involved. It struck her mute for a moment, so shocked at its rareness. Shocked that she had to be, really.

What sort of world was it that she lived in that kindness, without motive, surprised her? Human nature was warped, corrupt - inherently dark. Did it have to be? Or was that a habit taught? Maybe it was just the people she knew.

“You’re doing me a huge favour. Name your reward. I mean it, designer contacts, a reservation anywhere in the city - maybe even in the world if you’re headed out of the country, premiere tickets - just. Thanks.”

Heading towards her side, Nadia pulled the hood of her coat up and kept her gaze aimed low at the ground. Luckily, the one question she asked was one she wasn’t forced to lie about - or even attempt to conceal.

“Paps. I usually don’t mind - but - “ Was an explanation needed? “Just one of those days, you know?”

[viennaventuri]

“Oh, no... I don’t need any kind of compensation,” Vienna assured her, “Just, whenever you get the chance, pay it forward. Help someone else out. The world would be a much better place if we all looked out for each other, don’t you think?”

Leaning in conspiratorially as they walked, Vienna did her best to make it seem as though they were old friends rather than strangers. Her father being who he was, she’d had her share of time in the spotlight. It wasn’t always comfortable and she certainly didn’t envy Nadia her fame. Luciano was paranoid already, always conscious of her security and anxious to make sure she was safe, she couldn’t even imagine how he’d feel if she was truly in the public eye. 

Her heart went out to Nadia. People always assumed that with fame and money came ease and freedom, but that wasn’t necessarily the case. The poor girl couldn’t even walk down the street without being hounded for her photo or autograph, plus, if she ever had an off day she’d be vilified in the tabloids. Something to the effect of Nadia Rousseau has Meltdown on London Street would be the headline on all the gossip magazines. How exhausting it must be to always have to perform for the masses.

“You deserve your privacy just like anyone else, there’s nothing wrong with avoiding them. I certainly would if I were you,” she added as they walked, “I’m Vienna, by the way, Vienna Venturi. It’s nice to meet you.” 

[viennaventuri]

Venturi Aesthetic -- Maia and Vienna @maiavxnturi

[viennaventuri]

The Hilary Term had begun less than a week ago and Vienna already found herself back in London. Though it was only an hour or so drive, she hadn’t intended on coming back to the city so soon. And yet, here she was, a stack of papers in hand for Venturi Logistics that had somehow gotten into her bag. She must have picked them up by accident when she was packing up her books to return to the University. Vienna hadn’t read through the documents, but they looked official and important, so she’d made the trip back to return them. 

Low heeled boots clicked softly against the marble floors of the entrance as the security guard waved her through; she smiled her thanks and headed for the elevator. Since she hadn’t gone through the papers, she had no idea if they belonged to Maia or to Luciano, but she figured she could pass them off to whichever family member she found first. If they weren’t too busy, perhaps one or both of them could join her for dinner before she headed back to Oxford. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding and Vienna stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor before moving aside so the other occupant of the lift could select their destination. 

They had risen about ten floors when the elevator jolted to a halt with a mechanical grinding sound and went dark. “Oh!” Vienna gasped, grabbing onto the handrail to steady herself. “That can’t be good... are you alright?” Using her cell phone as a flashlight, she located the other passenger in the lift and tried to offer a reassuring smile. “I guess this is my punishment for not taking the stairs... New Year’s Resolutions and all that. Uh, do you think the building’s lost power or just the elevator? You’re not claustrophobic at all, are you?”