(2018-05-01) Amongst the Shades
We are not always what we seem.
orazio vittorio 
An
Summary:
Stories and Paintings in the Piazza del Viatora, along with some confusion.
Related:
Any plots or larger stories this is part of, any links to related logs or pages?
Misc Info:
Any other details to add? Commentary on the intent of the scene, anything to point out, other information other players may find useful or amusing?
agnetta 

In the evening light that now casts across Matora, The Piazza del Viatora is truly wondrous to behold. The marble tiles of the floor and the Palace of the Rose take on the shade of the sunset- a glorious golden-purple red hue that is difficult to ignore.

And, at least one nobleman of Metora is enjoying the riotous colors and shades that dance through the fountain of Marcus the Devout. The way the evening lights scatter and shine in the water. He's set up easel and a sheet of wood to paint upon- all the while wearing the things one would expect of a nobleman. Dagger and clothing of note- albeit with some bits of paint on the chest and across one cheek.

*

In a second debut of sorts to the city after nigh upon a year and five moons away in his estates, the Conte di Necchi is here in his full regalia: the dark black and ermine makes for brilliant garb for showing both his house and ironically, his widowed state. He does look a little strange in contrast with all the colour, though, and seems quite unfamiliar to many signoria after his long sojourn.

*

Agnetta is sitting at the edge of the fountain, looking for all the world like a beggar, but for the supple glint of rough chain that covers the red knit tunic on her chest. Her knees in their patched leather trousers are up to her chest as she leans forward, telling a parable to some several quite noble-looking children in their swaddling silks while their minders look on from a distance. But it is getting late, and children must be fed and in bed, and soon the little ones are being herded along away from the boyish maiden with the muddy boots and the wooden token of Noam over her heart.

*

Orazio di Farro- dressed in house colors, with a badge appropriate to the family pauses a moment in his painting- watching as the light changes. As people filter out of the Piazza. In his painting there are only shades of people. No one in particular, of course- just shades. Shadows that seem to live in the gilded marvel lands with fountain just beyond. As he pauses, he dips low to take a bottle of grappa- again badged as a House Farro vintage, and takes a long pull on the bottle. "Mmm.."

*

By the time Vittario's reached the fountain he arches a blond eyebrow at the sight of Agnetta. As one who's a good deal haughty and with particular notions about where the commons -should- and -shouldn't- be. As the children depart, he moves closer to inspect the sight of the signora with a little dirt to her and frowns, passing silent judgement.

*

Agnetta leans forward between her knees and pushes herself up to a stance that looks almost militaristic in attention, drawing her hands behind her back and folding them there (an earlier encounter nearly ended with one of her hands being kissed, and she won't repeat the mistake of leaving them in sight on first introduction. Vittario's silent judgement is met with a little bit of the same as the Sorella looks over the ostentatious way the man display his wealth. But when she does speak, it's with a girlish, cheery voice— she sounds very young, perhaps naive. "God be with you, Signore. Have you come to hear the story, too?" is like a joke, accompanied by a sort of wonky grin.

*

Ever the watcher, Orazio pauses a moment as Agnetta and Vittorio face towards one another. "Hmm!" he offers, a wordless assessment of the pair as they consider one another. He begins to deftly paint the pair into his pictures- the only two who seem to have a form beyond that of shadow and non-substance. His brush layering paint on the thin bit of wood he's using as a canvas today. "Very curious." he mumbles to himself, voice under his breath as he continues to look up at the pair and then back to his work.

*

Vittorio is a little sharp with the signora, now. "If the tale is of which signore's pockets you pilfered this morning, then I'm sure I'm quite the better man for not hearing it. You do realise, woman, that the Piazza is supposed to be a common area to gather in the sight of the Duchessa without any threat of your sort," he sticks up his nose and seems ready to move on in that moment.

*

"My, rather bold assumption on your part, good signore." Orazio notes, as he continues to paint- "I've brought little umber with me today, so, let us not shade too much the cheeks of the poor woman." he offers, a tone of jest in his voice. "Anyways, I'm losing light and I didn't bring another piece of wood to paint a more actiony scene on."

*

"Do you accuse me of theft so easily, Signore? What do you see of mine that I may have stolen from this imagined gentleman of yours?" she takes her hands out from behind her back, she shows her palms. "Is it my maile? Have a besieged a guardsman?" a curl of a lip accompanies the clause, since she did, in fact, besiege one just earlier, though not to the same effect. Or is it Noam's sigil at my heart? Which I have carved, myself, by hand, as an act of devotion, and my only decoration," she protests, but only with open forthrightness, with no pride in her voice to sound wounded. "I have taken nothing which was not freely given to me, and that, only, a loaf of bread which I had for my luncheon, and to drink from the fountain," she goes on with a sort of airy serenity in her voice. "At least, if you accuse me, leave me the name of my accuser," she looks to catch his nomenclature before he moves on.

*

Agnetta is curious about the man who seems to be painting a picture of her. Curious what it looks like. But this is vanity, and a sin of which she will be certain to exonerate herself at evening prayers. Meanwhile, she glances to him with that curiosity in her eye, but is hoping to catch Vittorio with her words.

*

Vittore sighs, "I suppose I shan't say … such words," he winces. "Forgive me. I have spent so long in parts where the commons knew where the commons ought to be." He nods curtly to the man painting and dryly responds, "I don't think this lady's the sort for turning umber."

*

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Orazio says as he returns to his painting. "Regardless, this is a space public to all. There are gardens near by where only noblemen and women may congregate, Signore. If you do not mind a touch of grappa and a few moments wait while I weigh if I am finished painting this evening or not, I will gladly show you." he says, "Unless, of course, you know the way already- in which case it would just be accompanying, I suppose. Better to drink among the flowers and fresh air, I say, instead of in an ill-lit tavern." Random, perhaps, but he continues to touch up his painting.

"And since introductions seem not to be happening, I will begin- Orazio. Orazio di Farro, and pleased to meet you all." he offers then the bottle of grappa up towards the pair. "A drink among friends, yes? Private Farro vintage, very good year at that."

*

"Conte Vittorio di Necchi," he clarifies to the painter and perhaps to the lady at the fountain too inadvertently. "I apologise for any ill I've shown towards the woman but I'm simply exercising my own views on her attire and manner rather than saying the lord prohibits her, Signore Orazio. But perhaps I'll leave it for another time. Good day, signore; I have statecraft to attend to."

*

(>-------<)
| Orazio (Industry) |
| -----— |
| Success |
| -
------ |
| Skill: 10 Mod: 0 Total: 10 |
| Roll: 5 Status: |
(>-------<)

*

Agnetta does grow rather unber, just about the ears, when Vittorio makes his further accusation. She finds herself speechless and verging on tears, unable even to speak until the man has made his departure. She swallows it down, turning, in turn, to Orazio, and lowering her head, "Heavens bless you, kind Signore," she whispers. She might have meant to introduce herself, but her mind's all scattered, now, and she's trying to tame it.

*

"Of course you do." Orazio deadpans as the Conte moves on. Orazio looks at his painting- a few more touch ups. "Ah. Good enough, I suppose." he says simply to himself with a quiet nod of his head, "I think I captured the essence of the evening well enough- no masterpiece, but it'll look good enough on a wall somewhere, I suppose." he mentions- speaking largely to himself as he takes a bit of cloth rag to clean his hands, still not recognizing he's got a little bit of paint on his cheek.

He then looks up towards Agnetta, "Oh my." he says, "Come, have a drink, dear lady." he says, "Something to calm the nerves." he suggests, again offering the bottle, before lowering it and thinking aloud. "I did bring a cup with me, I think.. Didn't I?" he wonders to himself as he goes to find his bag, "Ah, yes. Here it is… no.. " another pause, "Yes. Definitely a cup." he takes a metal cup from his bag- silver, well beaten. A cup for tasting wine or water as much as the other. He pours some of the grappa into the cup then and offers it over. "Don't usually use it myself, but always good to keep a cup close by."

*

Agnetta flings up a hand to flick away some useless salt from her eye. She takes a deep breath and tries to reinstate a smile to her lips, something that's aided when Orazio fumbles for the cup. "I was just telling a story of a cup to the children," she pipes up meekly. "I'm not to have wine, only water, and the bittern's call," which must be some sort of drink. "But you should drink it, now as it's poured. Come and sit with me by the fountain and I will tell you a story?" she proposes, a little twist to her voice making it an invitation rather than a demand. She angles her knee onto the lip of the fountain and sits cross-legged on it, with one knee hovering over the waters.

*

"I'm afraid I have little time for stories. I'm biding my time until the stars rise." Orazio explains, "I'm charting the paths of the wandering stars this season as they transit across the heavens." he further says as he throws back the clearish liquid with a certain ease. "Just enjoying the easy life nobility has afforded me, I suppose." He does a few last minute touchups on the painting. "There we are."

He turns the 'canvas' towards Agnetta- a lovely scene of colors and shades and two figures near a fountain. There is a certain amount of artistic license taken with all of it- but to call it anything less than lovely would not be giving Orazio credit. "I think it came out rather well, don't you?"

*

Agnetta is about to point out that a man must have time in order to bide it, but then those objections are knocked straight out of her head by what Orazio says next. Her lips purse, as though about to speak, but then her eyes just squint shut and she contents herself with a, "Huh?" as concerns the wandering stars and charting them. "Oh! My," she remarks, suddenly face to face with the painting she had craved to see earlier. "Such skill," she is glad she does not feature very prominently, only a figure in a landscape. A painting of God. His servant doesn't matter.

*

"Yes. It was somewhat good our grumpy Conte came along to add a bit of flavor to it." Orazio says, "The pairing helps to balance the colors some." he notes, "Ah- well. I should let this dry and get out to setting up my instruments somewhere. Can't very well do the math with all these buildings around." he says, "Particularly with those wandering stars traveling as they do. I need to start at the horizon, you see." he smiles though, "It has been a pleasure- although, you have still not shared you name."

*

"Sorella Agnetta Terese… d'Albrici," Netta starts with her liturgical title, for those who are devout enough to care, then her name, her liturgical name… and finally her family name. Of a family, indeed. Strange to see someone sporting the family name d'Albrici, the great banking house— dressed in such impoverished rags. But she's obviously devout. There are at least some orders of service in the Divine Empire which espouse poverty and humility as a way of life, and she has obviously been raised among them. "I think to see down to the horizon you are best placed in a tall observatory tower," she reasons. Quite reasonably. "As the Lord on High looks down and can see the lowest of us on land."

*

"Yes, but the city has many lights and many towers that block the best views to the east, unless, you are on my family's Island. Which, as it so happens, is where I've got my equipment. So- it is across to the Isola di Farro I must go." he bows his head to the religious noblewoman. "May you find good tidings, Agnetta d'Albrichi." he then collects his paints, and other gear and puts it into his bag and carefully collects his painting. "It has been a unique pleasure, and I would not think too heavily on the words of old and grumpy men who only judge based on a single sense and not those others offered to them." he notes, nodding down to her boots. "No begger wears riding boots."

He waves then, before he's on his way towards the habor where, undoubtedly, a family boat awaits.

*

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