(2018-05-15) Impromptu Garden Party
An Impromptu Garden Party
amadea antonella arabella 
Most days, there are no tables within the Giardini di Fiorni. Today is not most days. Today, a few small tables dot one of the more secluded nooks, each within easy reach from one of the curved, stone benches tucked within the spray of colorful blooms and under the shade of grand, gorgeous trees. The bustle of the garden with all its giddy gossip and delightful birdsong can still be heard even back here where a very informal, impromptu and, most importantly, open afternoon party's being held. No invitation required.
Just people being social.
Misc Info:
At the Giardini di Fiorni
carmilla cesare enzo vittorio 

Most days, there are no tables within the Giardini di Fiorni. Today is not most days. Today, a few small tables dot one of the more secluded nooks, each within easy reach from one of the curved, stone benches tucked within the spray of colorful blooms and under the shade of grand, gorgeous trees. The bustle of the garden with all its giddy gossip and delightful birdsong can still be heard even back here where a very informal, impromptu and, most importantly, open afternoon party's being held. No invitation required. Antonella Capello may be, in some part, to blame for the bounty of fruits, cheeses, nuts, cured meats and wines which are set out to share. She may, however, be simply an indulgent accidental attendee, contentedly enjoying a glass of pilfered wine, a bit of cheese, the curious conversations going on around her. The young woman seems, at the moment, on her own, dressed all in a lovely lavender, a muted hue among the more vibrant blossoms.

The Conte di Necchi's a little out of sorts in the cluster of noble youths today; lacking both his wife and his daughters he only comes across as a little antisocial and standoffish, if anything: lips are pursed on a gaunt face that could almost be chiseled from stone, greying blonde strands of hair falling about the shoulders of a doublet of muted red colours. He seems quite content to enjoy a pot of nettle tea alongside the Capellos and their other compatriots today, even popping in the odd word or two now and then.

First and foremost, Arabella di Sabastino always goes to one place in the garden. The pond is her eye candy and the lotus flower is her favorite one. Pointing it out to her brother, she beams a smile of delight towards him. "That one is my favorite," she tells him softly. Once her single minded determination of getting to that point has been realized, she looks around with a wider glance and smiles as she realizes there was a party of sorts. "Oh good day! Or good timing!" It was a garden for nobles, so she felt in place and not at all out of sorts. "It is a lovely place for a garden party."

An aspiring artist such as Carmilla just wouldn't let an opportunity to draw the Giardini di Fiorni pass by like this. The girl found her way down there with a small bag to carry her supplies, but for now she's just enjoying the calm ambient and the food provided. As her choice of outfit, she went for green, blending within the scenery were not for the fiery red hair that is let loose over her shoulders, "I think there's nothing more relaxing than enjoying the shade like this, in the Summer." She says to no one in particular, after all, she's probably one of the few that isn't of noble birth there.

Amadea is sitting where she can keep an eye on her baby sister, even while stuffing her face full of a dainty plate full of the party's delights. A glass of wine is her companion on the bench, and she has a peaceful little look on her face as she spies on Antonella, all the while eating cheeses and fruits.

Following after Arabella, Enzo is unable to hold back a bit of a chuckle. He looks to the pond and the lotus flower, smiling. "It looks quite nice," he tells her, before he looks around at the party present as well. "Quite interesting," he says, offering polite nods to the others he has seen about. "Did you know this would be here?" he asks his sister, a bit more quietly.

"I apologize if this is an impertinent question," Antonella begins, addressing Vitorrio, knowing full well that her sister is watching, "but why do you favor tea over wine? Is it the hour of the day or..?" There seems no judgment in the inquiry, only genuine curiosity, puzzling out a habit not in sync with her own. As others filter over, she angles a bright smile over thattaway, declaring to Arabella, "Both, of course. A good day and fine timing. You're welcome to join us, of course." Public place, sure, but also a bounty meant to be shared, a day meant to be spent with others, this fine spring weather not to be missed all cooped up indoors.

The ageing Conte seems only a bit pertubed by Antonella's suggestion, and, pouring the brew, he thinks on that. "Us Necchis, I think, have always preferred things a bit more pastoral and in touch with those we rule as much as we have true pride in our high birth," Vittorio explains — catching Carmilla out of the corner of his eye and frowning a bit. "I might have some of the best vineyards in Matora, but also the farms of country people where herbal tea is a part of their daily life. That, and I find the savour of the finest wines is ruined if it's all one drinks every hour of the day." Finally, he motions to take a sip.

"I.." Arabella gives Enzo a sheepish look and a shake of her head, "No. I had no idea, but I come to the gardens here often." She casts her gaze towards the nearby manors on the other sides of the walls. Hearing Antonella, she gently tugs on her brothers arm, "Come, we should join!" Not taking no for an answer from him, poor guy. "We would both be delighted to join, thank you, truly!" Approaching over, she takes one of the seats on one side of a stone bench, leaving the other side for Enzo. A smile is offered to those already gathered, curious perhaps towards Vittorio in his response. It is when he looks and frowns to Carmilla that she recognizes the other girl. "Have you come to the gardens to sing? I remember your lovely voice from the Inn."

Cesare arrives from the Via Principale.
Cesare has arrived.

Amadea seems content, for the moment, to watch her sister socialize from where she is. If it's with older men, so be it. She lifts her glass of wine to her lips delicately and leans back a bit on her bench, though not enough to throw herself off balance. The older blonde (though not that much older) is the picture of idyllic contentment in the garden scene.

Perhaps a little oblivous to the reaction of the Conte, Carmilla shoots out a smile to him as she catches his eye. The young girl takes her time to scan over for some food before deciding to take a small piece of cake, only to be met by Arabella's question, "Oh, it's nice to see you again, Signora!" She says, dipping her head deeply rowards the woman, "I am happy that you remember me for it, it was a lovely day. Though I came to practise my other art, the painting, a bit."

If Enzo seems to mind being tugged along by his sister, he doesn't show it, following over towards the others. "It sounds like an excellent event," he replies to Antonella, as he looks around at everyone. Taking the seat Arabella left him, he smiles, nodding a bit as he hears Vittorio's words. "True, about the taste of the wine," he offers, before he looks between the others, nodding to Carmilla as he hears Arabella ask her question to the woman.

Antonella delights in Arabella's eager approach. What use is a bounty if not shared among good company. She's a curious look for Carmilla, at once out of place and half-welcome, both the side-eye and the praise for the artist considered. She makes no move to shoo the woman or defend the little tea cakes against her advances, instead she flashes an impish grin toward Enzo, neither claiming nor denying any credit turned her way, before returning her attention to Vittorio. Her smile's hardly faltered for that distraction. "A keen observation," she tells him. "If the world were nothing but wine and wonder, what care would we have for either? What understanding might we have for the other lovely things life provides? My sisters" She angles an indirect glance toward Amadea. "are of a similar disposition, I believe, knowing how important it is that we remain rooted in our land and its people."

Cesare had been very happily feeding the fish today, chucking bits of old bread to the things and watching them flash and clamor to get the crumbs. But the fuss naturally caught his attention, and so he's wandered thisaway. At least he looks like he's seen a bed and a bath recently, though breadcrumbs cling stubbornly to his hands and the front of his shirt (despite his efforts to clear them off). He stops some ways off, leaning one shoulder against the trunk of a handy tree, taking stock of the gathering. Or spying from afar, depending on how you look at it.

Vittorio bites his lip and lets it creep up his face in what's almost a smile in seeing Enzo and Arabella arriving. He nods to the younger of the Capellos with some solemnity, musing deeply into a fine clay teacup. "Yes, signore, signora. A fine line to tread, betwixt the worldliness of knowing more on one's subjects and undertaking the responsibility of being a Conte, or Contessa," he nods to Amadea momentarily.

Amadea is almost aware that she's being spoken about, and she takes her glass of wine and rises to her feet to head gracefully in her sister's direction. She does overhear the latter of Vittorio's conversation, and she smiles graciously. "Indeed. I find it best to let my dear husband the Conte get more hands-on with the people, while I, the ruling Contessa, stay somewhat apart to rule. The Conte di Capello is an avid horseman, though, and since we have quite a lot of livestock, it is an appropriate situation, I think."

"Lovely to see you again as well!" Arabella offers to Carmilla. "I was a lovely day and again it is now." A bob of her head in response to the mention of art. Releasing her brothers arm, she laces her fingers together. "The bounty is wonderful." Rising to her feet, she gets a couple small cakes and delivers one to her brother, "Would you like tea, Enzo?" Not minding helping her brother out while she gets her own. She does seem curious about the conversation, but she makes no moves to intercede on it.

"I have taken upon calling myself Songstress as Signore Raffielo suggested." Carmilla informs, a bright smile forming up on her face. The girl procceeds to eat a bit more of the cake, deciding it probably should be alright for her to take some of her gear out and start scribbling on the paper. Her pale eyes moving between the nobles as she tries to take their likeness into the paper, though a wistful expression on her face shows that probably she hopes they won't mind being drawn.

Antonella's smile widens when Amadea moves closer; one might catch some small glimmer of pride in her steel-blue eyes. "Both capable and daring," she says of the Conte di Capello and his horsmanship. Her attention lingers on her sister for a moment, like there's some thought knotted up in her head angling for expression, but it never finds its way out. In no small part because something else has snagged her attention, that lurker along the edges with his shoulder to a tree. Her smile brightens considerably to see Cesare, brows arching as she looks to him, then to the spread of wine and tea and treats, then back to him. A invitation, perhaps. Maybe just a question. Either way, decidedly a distraction.

"Some tea would be quite nice, thank you," Enzo replies to his sister, before he nods at what the others are saying. "It is always interesting, the question of how close those that rule should be with the people. I think it might be one of those questions that have no clear answer, but depends on the persons themselves." He looks around a bit thoughtfully.

"A fine enough division of spheres, Signora Contessa di Capello," Vittorio nods and remarks to himself, "I'd more say that I am the swordsman of the house as well as those that my wife, daughters, and sisters have to answer to after they've sorted out the household accounts." Stretching a bit, his gaze does turn upon the songstress and the Sabastinos, still yet a bit curious at seeing one of the commons in the garden.

"Signore Raffiano is quite free with his compliments, is he not?" Perhaps Arabella looks slightly amused at the moment before she puts herself to pouring tea for herself and her brother and delivering those as well. Now it was a tea party for her too, with the cakes and beverage and the company of the ladies and lords. A sample of the tea is taken and savored, "This is lovely, thank you, Signora."

Cesare, noticed, performs a similar stunt with his eyes, looking down at the bag of breadcrumbs, then at Antonella, then at the cakes and whatnot. Pastries win out over voyeurism, and he peels himself off the tree-trunk to cross the distance, sketching a bow along the way. "Aren't we all looking especially idyllic this afternoon, signoras, signori," (or whatever the grammatical plural of those words is).

Antonella's shoulders lift in answer to that look from Cesare, as if she might be willing to concede whatever silent point he might be making. But there are tempting treats over here, and one cannot be blamed for succumbing to their temptation. Really, it's almost certainly why they've been set out, to lure others into indulgence. Tch. "As is only fitting for an idyllic afternoon." Casting a look between the conte and contessa with whom she'd been conversing, the younger Capello slips to her feet and dips into a delicate curtsey with a murmur of pardon before slipping aside. Her smile turns to Arabella to offer another of those not-quite-taking-credit smiles. "It is simply serendipity, that we might all decide to enjoy the day so." With a curious look toward Carmillaall while edging closer to Cesareshe wonders, "May I ask what's caught your eye this afternoon?" of the artist.

"I believe it is important to divide the spheres. I am less equipped than the Conte is to ride all day and be amongst the people, but I do have a good head for numbers, and he is content to let me manage affairs for the House," Amadea replies pleasantly to Vittore, though she's eyeballing this gentleman that has caught her sister's eye suspiciously.

Enzo smiles as he listens to the others, expression a bit thoughtful as he sips his tea. "Ah, quite good," he offers, before he goes back to the listening and watching people again, rather thoughtfully.

"One could certainly say so, Signora." Carmilla says to Arabella, a smirk forming on her face, "Though I tend to believe his words are well intentioned to drive us to further our goals." She adds, pouring herself some tea as it seems to be the vogue at the moment, her cheeks turning to pink as Antonella directs her a question, "Oh, the whole atmosphere of calmness and tranquility. It's interesting to see that we have achieved a moment of relaxtion that is unique in the city."

"Yes, well," Vittorio muses to Amadea as he reaches for an apple from a bowl, peeling back its layers with a knife, "I think it's quite the same in the House di Necchi though perhaps with slightly reversed roles of head and spouse," he smiles a bit: his darker, more stark blend of humour showing through, but then there's a sharpness gleaming in his eyes that beckons the Contessa to voice any… discomfort she might have with him.

"Mmm," and Cesare teeters his palm in a wishy-washy argument. "A case could probably be made that such a fine day should be spent industriously and not indolently, but." He shoves the mostly empty bag of breadcrumbs into his pocket before concluding, "I will not be making that case, personally." His empty hands want for cake, fingers a-twitter, though the suspicious look from Amadea has him showing some measure of restraint. He smiles at her, cheerful and questioning all at once. "Sorry for interrupting, but the fish ate all my lunch, and you folks seem to have some to spare?"

"Ah, but in many ways it is the same, as I am the head, and my spouse is the Conte. Still, if I need social women, I turn to my darling sisters, who are happy to fill that role for me," Amadea notes, motioning towards Antonella, who is one of the sisters in question. "In social matters I rule, but in private matters, I permit the Conte to be the husband, of course." She absently smooths down the front of her dress, smiling just slightly. She seems unsure of Cesare. "Do have a plate, then. It is a garden party, and no invite is required."

After a sip of her tea, Arabella turns a smile to Antonella, "Certainly fortuitous that we have all gathered and there seems to be the cakes and tea and wine. I shall consider myself incredibly lucky because the tastes are so wonderful." Indeed she is enjoying and looks to her brother to see how he liked the tea and cakes himself. "I do believe his words are well intentioned also, perhaps he has his own goals in mind with them." A playful smile just then to Carmilla, watching as she helps herself to the tea before smiling at Cesare. "Perhaps you could ask Signore Raffiano's cousin his own preference in music as well? Signore Cesare, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Antonella gives Carmilla a vaguely puzzled look at that answer. "How does one capture the atmosphere on canvas?" Art is almost certainly not her area of expertise. Is it socializing as her sister suggests? She flashes a cheerful smile back at Amadea and Vittorio before looking to Cesare. "A case easily countered, were one to make it, our idle afternoon readily producing connections, commonality, conversation. Fine commodities, all." She glances to Carmilla again, the only one here likely to produce anything tangible this afternoon, but she's still a bit uncertain about that. When Arabella addresses the cakeless gentleman, her brows arch curiously, silence following as she moves to fetch some confections and offer them up as she settles in to listen to the gossip.

The young artist had no idea that Raffiano's cousin was around, as the redness of her cheeks reveal, "Signore, it's a pleasure to meet you! Your cousin often talks about the ideas he brings to you." She says, covering her face with the tea for a sip before continuing, "As for my songs, I prefer the romantic ones, they reveal feelings that are known to most of us." The artist confides, turning back to Antonella, and flashing a bright smile as she is able to talk about her own craft, "It's more about the colours, blue and other lighter tones have a calming effect to the eye as they evoke feelings of relaxation."

Cesare laughs mildly at Amadea's comment, the exact opposite of unsure now that the ice is broken. "Thank you, signora, I don't mind if I do," have a plate. He seems on the verge of continuing to argue a case that he specifically said he wasn't going to argue, but then pastries arrives, so he just leaves it at, "Add 'cake' to your list of commodities, and I'll sign off." He's put a bite in his mouth before he notices Arabella, and so has to chew quickly to answer, "Ah! La bella Sabastino, always a pleasure, and hello," to Carmilla, "my cousin is a popular topic today."
<Capello> Tizania has connected.

Nodding to Cesare, even Vittorio now smiles a bit. "Always a fine thing to meet an Albrici," he says, crunching the apple: but then his eyes do drift to Carmilla once more and while he looks ready to voice… something, he settles on mumbling something to himself about not thinking much noble status to the woman in question.

Enzo nods a bit in Cesare's direction. "Signore Cesare. A pleasure," he offers in greeting, as he looks between the others again. "I'm quite sure capturing the atmosphere on canvas is not much different from capturing it in the form of a poem, for example," he comments, words a bit thoughtful.

"Somehow, I think wherever one goes, your cousin is a popular topic." Arabella muses almost to herself before bobbing her head in agreement to Vittorio, "Indeed it is. They are almost as plentiful in number as Sabastino." A poke at her own house and their many numbers. Whatever it is Vittorio mumbles is lost on Arabella, though she gives him a curious look as for clarification of what she had missed.

"Cakes and confections and cordials," Antonella adds to the bounty without hesitation. As Cesare greets Arabella, though, the young Capello's attention strays back to Carmilla, understanding dawning as the color theory is explained. "I think I'd favor yellows, then. All the sunlight, bright with promise." She sounds rather sure of that, but she's quick to add, "Or maybe deep, dark blues. Like the night sky and all its mystery. Or the verdant greens all around us, full of life." Brows arching high, she adds, "Or maybe orange. What might orange evoke?" Oh, Enzo, poor Enzo. Antonella's grey-blue attention turns right his way at his words. "Do you, signore, compose poetry?"

Carmilla takes her time to nibble a bit on the cake, so well spoken by the nobles before adressing to Cesare once again, "I think it only speaks well of your family, Signore." She suggests, "One that is often remembered will certainly be sought for great deeds." The artist quickly adds, turning to Antonella once again as she too can offer some insight on art, which delights the Songstress to a great deal, "I believe it could be a mix of emotions from red, warmth and strife, and yellow, bright with promise as the Signora says." She smiles, blue eyes focusing on Enzo as another kind of art style is reffered to.

Cesare's, "He does get around," is accompanied by a put-upon sounding sigh, but he brightens again promptly to add, "Speaking of which. I hope you enjoyed your ride?" He might have half an ear on the talk of colors, but he stays out of it for the moment, instead dipping his head in a pseudo-bow to Vittorio and then Enzo. "Gentlemen, nice to meet you. I think I met your wife the other night," to Vittorio. "I walked her home after that big party."

"I find myself fairly well surrounded now by those I do not know. Antonella, darling, would you be so kind as to make some introductions for me?" Amadea says as their little gathering grows larger and more compact, more social amongst one another another.

"You did," Vittorio looks Cesare up and down rather clinically and coolly, but his lips do twist upwards in at least some form of showing gratitude. "I thank you for that, signore. A fine thing to know she easily made a few Matoran friends that night."

Enzo smiles at what's being said, before shaking his head a little. "While I have tried writing some simple poetry, I must confess I have never managed to write something worth the term poem," he replies, with a brief smile. "I enjoy reading it, though. The words of those good at writing." He smiles as he looks between the others again.

"Have you composed poetry Enzo?" Arabella jumps on that bandwagon right away. "Poems of love?" Perhaps it surprises her to think of any of her brothers and the fairer sex. It gives her something to ponder. Cesare though, trumps that when he asks her the question. "It was a nice ride until storms and rain hit us, then we hurried back to the city proper." A gracious dip of her head towards Amadea, "Forgive me, I am Arabella Rosalina di Sabastino and this is my brother Enzo di Sabastino."

"Warmth and war and wonder," Antonella croons to Carmilla at her answer. It's followed by a thoughtful cant of her head, eyes momentarily unfocused. She might dwell on that longer or inject herself otherwise into ongoing conversation, but her sister has called her name, and so every little ounce of her attention falls rather solidly upon Amadea. Straightening, she takes a single step back that she might keep all and sundry in clear view. Her eyes glint with humor when Arabella takes the lead with her own introduction, but the young blonde proceeds with excessive formality all the same. "Contessa Amadea Capello, permit to introduce Conte Vittorio di Necchi, well-grounded and shrewd. Signore Cesare Albrici, clever and possessed of a much-discussed cousin. Signora Arabella di Sabastino, whom I've met only once in passing before today, when the cousin in question was accosted on the bridge by a stranger who'd misunderstood the source of a rather petty offense, but that's, well. She seems rather gracious. And her brother, Enzo di Sabastino, not yet a poet, though he shows promise."

Antonella adds hastily with a nod toward Carmilla. "And the Songstress, also an expert on the emotions conjured by colors."

"Carmilla… Songstress." The young artists introduces herself upon hearing Amadea's question, she listens attentively to Enzo, nodding as she probably has found a similar struggle when it comes to songs. However, it seems time has come for Carmilla to depart, as the she rises from her seat, offering a prolonged curtsy to all the nobles gathered there, "I wish I could share more of my time with all of you Signori, but alas, I have to visit the Inn before my patrons find myself to be slacking." She says, bowing her head just in case, "I thank you all for your patience and kindness." The artist says, before moving towards the streets.

Cesare answers Vittorio's cool look with an easy smile, unfettered and made even moreso when he adds a bite of cake. "Don't mention it. I think we were both just trying to avoid the fray." Further discussion of the ride falls to the wayside in favor of a little chagrin at Amadea's comments, and he mumbles after Antonella makes the introductions, "Possessed of a much-discussed cousin and apparently no manners at all."

"Well, now I shall know what to expect of everyone," Amadea offers, arching a perfectly manicured brow at her little sister. "Thank you very much." She watches as she artist departs, then considers Cesare. "Oh, it's quite alright. It's just that Antonella is quite good at introductions, isn't she, Signore? You are apparently quite clever. Do tell me a bit more about yourself."

"No, not really!" Enzo's reply to Arabella is quick, perhaps a bit too quick. He nods as the introductions are done. "A pleasure to meet you," he offers, before he looks to Antonella. "You're too kind, saying I show promise," he offers.

As the round of introductions come to a close, Vittorio absentmindedly talks to himself more than anything else concerning the sisters, "I do suppose I've been a bit out of touch with you Capellos the past few years but I assure you, it's fine to see you all. I do have a few fond memories of your father," he clarifies briskly.

Antonella accepts not one little lick of blame for whatever trouble her introductions might have landed anybody else in. In fact, after dipping a gracious nod to her sister in acceptance of that praise, she makes a point of stepping just over here to collect herself a glass of wine. Yes, there's tea. Plenty of it. And yes, she's conceded the purpose tea serves. Still, she reaches for the wine. She lets her focus resettle on Enzo, who's avoided Amadea's attention, and tells him, "It's not a kindness to recognize the merit of attempts made. We make nothing, learn nothing, do nothing if we never endeavor. Should ever you wish to be a poet, you must first pen pieces which may or may not be poems." Her head cants curiously as if there's a question coming, but Vittorio's remark catches her off-guard, brow knitting for an instant. Still, of Enzo, she wonders, "May I ask after your preferred subjects?" Then, to Arabella, "Might you write as well?" On then does she look to the Conte to tell him, "It's no wonder, then, that you and my contessa might have so much in common. I expect you'd enjoy the company of her husband as well. We should perhaps have you and yours over for supper some night."

Arabella watches Carmilla leave with a thoughtful expression before turning back to her brother and smiling at his rapid denial. "I see," she smiles with a tongue-in-cheek manner. The tea and cakes are focused on after the introductions are given and she seems to rather enjoy the serving she had gotten herself. "I do like to write, though it is not always poetry. Most times it is lyrics to songs that will never be voiced. Just songs and words that speak to me." She looks a touch regretful. "I have some paperwork to do, I have been helping my brother Cristofano with some things and I should get back." She smiles at her brother. "Do stay, I will be fine the short distance home." Getting to her feet, she gives a curtsy to the others, "Thank you for the impromptu party, it was wonderful seeing all of you.'

Nodding in agreement with Antonella, Vittorio clasps his hands to his waist as he thinks. "Indeed, or you to our palazzo. I know my wife has been wanting someone to scratch her itch of proving herself as a hostess. And for the Contessa's husband, well, we'll see when I meet him," he grins faintly, nodding a small goodbye to Arabella.

"I am my father's daughter, after all. Much to my mother's chagrin, at times," Amadea says brightly to Vittorio, head held high and proud. Her mossy gaze flicks to Enzo with a measure of amusement. "You should write some poetry for Antonella! I'm certain that she would be delighted to give you her honest opinion on your poetic style." Back to the older man, she nods. "Either way. My Conte will be happy to join us."

Cesare reacts dramatically to the taste of one of the cakes, screwing up his face and putting his plate down on the edge of the nearest table, just so he can open his crumb-bag and dump the offensive pastry into it. Now then. "A little about myself, hmm. Should we start with the fact that I'd beg to differ about my cleverness? And that I do not like lavender-flavored pastries, that might be important information." He winds up shoving a dubious cake into the bag, too, "Better safe than sorry." He's aware, sidelong, of Arabella's departure, but too preoccupied for more than a quick farewell smile her way.

There's a brief pause as he hears Antonella's question, "My favorite subjects? Well, the one I write the most of is nature, I believe." There's a brief look to his sister, before he adds, "After all, nature gives us the important things." There's a nod to Arabella again as well. "Are you sure?" A brief pause, and he smiles, "I'll see you back home later, then." As he hears Amadea's words, he smiles, after a brief pause. "I'm sure that can be done at some point, yes."

Antonella's only answer for Vittorio is a bright, unshakably pleased smile which she shares with Amadea, too. Plans are magnificent things, and she is delighted to have nudged them forward. When Arabella moves to take her leave, the younger Capello straightens and looks toward the departing lady. "Signora Arabella. Should you ever require a voice to bring your lyrics to life." Well, she doesn't seem to be volunteering herself if the little flicker of attention toward Amadea means anything. Then, to Enzo, she agrees with her sister, insisting, "You should." Write poetry for her. "Sooner rather than later," comes in the wake of his agreement. Though, to be fair, she does seem to be teasing, a hint of impishness in her eyes. Her attention turns, then, to Cesare, a shameless smile offered his way, with no further commentary offered on either cakes or his nature.

"I am certain," Arabella tells Enzo with a warm smile. The mention of the lyrics has her taking that look towards Amadea and she brightens, "That would be wonderful. I will try and find something fitting." Dipping her head, she excuses herself once more, a smile to those that remain. "Have a good day!" With a cheerful step, she departs the gardens and heads towards home.

Arabella leaves, heading towards the Via Principale [VP].
Arabella has left.

"To later, then. Perhaps you'll get a letter from my wife or I," and then the Conte Vittorio stands, wincing a bit at the old aches in his back and nodding curtly to the signoras Capello. "I think I ought to be off, now, but you have my best farewells. All of you," he bows shallowly and departs to the gate.

Vittorio leaves, heading towards the Via Principale [VP].
Vittorio has left.

Having partaken of the (free) pastries, Cesare should probably have the social grace to stick around and make small-talk. But someone moving around off in the distance, near the fish-pond, catches his attention, and he frowns sternly. "Will you all excuse me? Those fish are going to get me in trouble. It's been lovely meeting you." He bows and marches off, waving animatedly at whoever is patrolling the pond. Discussion ensues.

Enzo nods a bit as he hears Antonella's words, "Sooner rather than later," he agrees as he offers another smile. "I will be looking forward to it," he adds.

"And I've a bit of cleaning up to arrange," Antonella chirps not long after Cesare's almost certainly out of hearing range, her eyes still on him a second longer. Then it's a bright smile for Enzo. "Signore. I look forward to your letters." Then to her sister. "My darling contessa." Who gets a proper curtsey. And, with that, the lovely young thing is off to make sure someone comes to clean up all this mess.

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