Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 16, 2012 11:57:35 GMT -5
A/N: Welcome Reader! I did this out of boredom and interest after being slightly obsessed with Florence for a long time. I plan this story will only be about ten short chapters and if you want your character to have an appearance please say so, I love constructive criticism so have at and review! This story is based on actual history but I might have to bend some of it just to help the plot. I have mentioned an OC who is not mine in here but other than that everyone is mine! (minus Italy, Rome, Ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt, China, America, and a few others I know I've forgotten.)
Hope you enjoy it,
Weaver
The man watched as the single figure walked down the red-carpeted aisle, her gown flowing dramatically behind her. Leave it to Italians to make a wedding feature fashion as it's top priority. He watched, seeing as her lover slid the small gold band around her finger, and sighing slightly out of boredom as the vows were finished and their love was now eternal. The monotonic priest rambling about something. Though they were family's he never particularly enjoyed weddings. After the wedding he stood, saying a few short goodbyes and well wishes to the newlyweds before walking out the large church doors.
He sighed, leaning against the cold, gray, stone wall of the church as he ran an exhausted hand through his hair- his bangs falling over his eyes slightly showing him a few stubborn gray hairs. He frowned- he wasn’t getting that old- yet he was looking worse off than China.
Florence- 1490
“Cazzo.”
“What?” a woman’s voice said from behind him, they were standing in an ornately decorated washroom, tapestries and rugs portraying distant lands lay neatly scattered around the room. He could feel her trace his back with a delicate finger.
“My damn hair, I can never get this piece to stay down. I have to go to a party and I’ll wind up looking like a fool with this piece of hay sticking out of my head,” he growled, indicating the cowlick the curled up from his head.
“I think it’s cute, it gives you personality.”
“Ve, the personality of a sheep. You could use it as damn rope,” he scoffed attempted to flatten it with some water.
“I could always cut it off for you,” she smiled, holding a razor- watching as the blood drained from his face.
“That… is not necessary, grazie,” he stopped fooling with the stray hair and backed away from the sharp object clutched in the woman’s hand.
She playfully jabbed the air a couple times, holding the blade like a rapier before he caught her hand and kissed it, carefully avoiding the razor “I am expected, farewell,” he said his voice muffled by her skin before jogging out of the room, expertly evading a servant carrying a tray of dates- Though grabbing one as he left.
A/N: Okay, your first taste at what Florence's past was like. To be continued! Bum Bum BAH!
Hope you enjoy it,
Weaver
The man watched as the single figure walked down the red-carpeted aisle, her gown flowing dramatically behind her. Leave it to Italians to make a wedding feature fashion as it's top priority. He watched, seeing as her lover slid the small gold band around her finger, and sighing slightly out of boredom as the vows were finished and their love was now eternal. The monotonic priest rambling about something. Though they were family's he never particularly enjoyed weddings. After the wedding he stood, saying a few short goodbyes and well wishes to the newlyweds before walking out the large church doors.
He sighed, leaning against the cold, gray, stone wall of the church as he ran an exhausted hand through his hair- his bangs falling over his eyes slightly showing him a few stubborn gray hairs. He frowned- he wasn’t getting that old- yet he was looking worse off than China.
Florence- 1490
“Cazzo.”
“What?” a woman’s voice said from behind him, they were standing in an ornately decorated washroom, tapestries and rugs portraying distant lands lay neatly scattered around the room. He could feel her trace his back with a delicate finger.
“My damn hair, I can never get this piece to stay down. I have to go to a party and I’ll wind up looking like a fool with this piece of hay sticking out of my head,” he growled, indicating the cowlick the curled up from his head.
“I think it’s cute, it gives you personality.”
“Ve, the personality of a sheep. You could use it as damn rope,” he scoffed attempted to flatten it with some water.
“I could always cut it off for you,” she smiled, holding a razor- watching as the blood drained from his face.
“That… is not necessary, grazie,” he stopped fooling with the stray hair and backed away from the sharp object clutched in the woman’s hand.
She playfully jabbed the air a couple times, holding the blade like a rapier before he caught her hand and kissed it, carefully avoiding the razor “I am expected, farewell,” he said his voice muffled by her skin before jogging out of the room, expertly evading a servant carrying a tray of dates- Though grabbing one as he left.
A/N: Okay, your first taste at what Florence's past was like. To be continued! Bum Bum BAH!