francisodeguzman
twin flame bruise
3 posts
Francisco de Guzman
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francisodeguzman Ā· 2 years ago
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@edmcndd
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Ā  Ā  Ā  "Accept my deepest regrets, if my intrusion has disturbed your desire for seclusion; but I wished to know - when was your last portrait taken? The light, you see, only seeks to serve you jaw; I wish to capture its endeavours and preserve your image at its finest, upon canvas." Hours in England woke fresh as nymphs, shadowless, azure and glorious, they led the sun's steeds on a burning and unclouded course. It was a fine a autumn day as England could boast; which it was to say, it still strived to emulate a tolerable climate.Ā While walking through the garden, feeling sunshine and marking blooming plants, Francisco pondered the vacancy in his life - he wished to be possessed, overwhelmed by the novelty, of a muse; his prized juno, could not tolerate his romantic ideas and her faith, in one hand. If Maria desired to suffocate him with unrestrained spirits, her pretty, neatly-worded phrases, her blooming beauty, he would not protest; but she gave him very little, only the crust of her nature. Warmed by his love, Francisco defied spectra. Like a wandering dog come in front the street, he crept forward and nestled hither; upon the paved path, emerged a princely head.Ā 
Ā  Ā He knew Percy in name and reputation; Francisco looked upon him, and underwent a discovery, a strong conviction of coming disclosure. With a solemn force pressed on his heart, the expectation of animation breaking up; hitherto he moved forward, he looked. Edmund was very handsome, with the beauty indigenous to the England; he was well-nourished, fair and full of fat. Francisco would believe him a Catholic; he seemed to support a capacity to suffer. He spoke again, feeling himself to grow more excited by the second. "I am Francisco, of Spain; I know my countrymen to beĀ persona non grata, but I exist without the confines of politics; I am an artist, of self-ascribed renowned. Perhaps a portrait may aid you - in the begetting of a sweetheart? Or a fantastic adornment, in your family's much admired, castle."Ā 
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francisodeguzman Ā· 2 years ago
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Ā With a thick-beating heart, Francisco waited at the doorway - the lighted repeated in Maria's eyes, first shone out of his own. This daughter of heaven - divine, passionate, blooming under a reliance on faith - called out, bade him to pad across the room in wordless obedience. She sweetly endured his passions and thus abetted them; he wished to preserve the moment, to feel nothing between them between their clothes; to kiss, and experience totality.Ā It was a pleasant thought laid in his mind, and best kept there.Ā Unrequited love was as vindictive as the devil; for Francisco, it was as envenomed as a step-mother. She would not rest until he was altogether crushed, disavowed and splintered.Ā At moments of peril he cherished the idea, or readily suffered its influence, to animate his work. Love turned him out in mid winter into the snow, led him forage for sustenance; he gnawed on bones, to later be deposited as offerings, at her door.Ā 
Ā  Ā  He was not satisfied with friendship; with its calm and modest hope.Ā Francisco took her hands, and for once held a true morsel of joy; not a dream, nor of the fruits of imagination on which humanity starved - but flesh and blood, god-sent, of what the dying patriarch Moses promised to his son Gershom.Ā Maria's affection to him now was so sweet and dear; a pleasure new and incomparable. "Why else would I come to this country, if to not deliver myself onto your mercy?" Had there been nothing of love in Francisco's demonstrations, his infatuation was so generous, it would have coloured the most inconspicuous lineaments. This was not a love born merely from beauty - for he bore another love, ventured confidently into life after long acquaintance, furnaced by pain and consolidated by affection, to be brought into existence as a love that sneered at passion. For passion was a hot, frenzied sentiment that hurried to extinction; love tore cruelly into your sides, and made a home.Ā 
It was not to be mistaken - he met her eyes, his gazed fixed as stone - she was beautiful enough inspire to Praxiteles to sculpt an army of Aphrodites, divine feminine in their form and grace.Ā Maria was as fresh as a nymph; azure and glorious. Brought to the spot with wine by obedience, Maria's attendants gazed at them muted - rooted in observance of domesticity tinged with something untoward. A quick rising fire was over Francisco's face;Ā no love was spared in his tone, having already been commissioned to adorn Maria with every line. "Leave us." Her ladies whirled from the room; he cared not if modesty and custom were violated by his arresting her presence to be held by him alone; let them talk.Ā "Maria.....your absence in my life has caused a myriad of devastations; how will you rectify my sleepless nights, my food bearing no taste, my inability to paint a single form? I have come to England, a country plagued foremost by unused baths and vile combinations of rye and bean, for salvation; you remain so dear to me, even though our heavenly father must forgive me - I shall not call you my sister, for I think of you more tenderly than that."Ā 
@francisodeguzman / š’„š’š’š’”š’†š’… š’”š’•š’‚š’“š’•š’†š’“. the duchess' chamber at chelsea house.
The Duchessā€™ hair gleams a raven-black in the night, inlaid with milky streaks of moonlight pouring in from the windows, as her ladies brush, oil, and plait her silken mane time and time over: an onyx rope tapering the length of her loosely-flowing habito, so thick and creamy as to trammel the embroidery scissors her women attempt to cut it with.Ā  But for all Mariaā€™s extravagant tastes and rich apparel, it was this, her linen shift, gifted to her for the occasion of her nuptials many decades past, that she loved best; it was now too short, skimming just above the nub of her ankle, sewn together in patches of fresh, clean cream and careworn tawn; yet in each stitch a kiss of tender care, twined with her own blood and sweat.Ā  Given both its increasing immodesty and pricelessness to the Duchess, it was, of course, her most intimate of garments, one only her preciosa daughters and beloved women laid witness toā€¦Ā 
And yetā€¦Ā 
ā€˜Francisco.ā€™Ā 
In the reflection of her boudoir (the mirror cracked and yellowed like rotten English teeth, dissolving into great sculptures of crystalised marchpane) she spies him looming in the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping across the room as a suave smirk curls the corners of his lips.Ā  Half of his face illuminated with candlelight, and the other masked in the darkness of the empty corridor, Francisco de Guzman resembled a phantom, delivering Maria unto a fate eternal. The Duchess rose unhurriedly, her knees suffused with honey, cradling a gold-handled brush in her fist and pointing it in the direction of her brother-in-lawā€™s face like a gilded pistol.Ā  Her heart beat as lustily as the drums of a galliard, as thunderously as the marching of an encroaching army, a thousand mighty Spaniards strong, proceeding across the wizened steppes of Spain, for she knew it was him, Francisco, come to liberate her.
ā€˜Come, Cico. I will have all of you or I will have none.ā€™
She intoned the poetic devices of poets, of artists, those of Franciscoā€™s ilk that disdained Mariaā€™s cunning and calculation.Ā  And as he padded across the room, in her heart she felt a flooding of molten iron; for it was not Franciscoā€™s resemblance to her late husband, his brother, that moved her so, but the unbridled affection for him that beat in her chest like wild stallions.Ā  His scrutinizing gaze made her feel young again; as young as sheā€™d been when sheā€™d first donned this linen shift, delivered until the late Diego as a bride.Ā  ā€˜My good women, some wine for Master Francisco?ā€™
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francisodeguzman Ā· 2 years ago
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NAME & TITLE/ROLE: Francisco de GuzmƔn, Portrait Artist
EPITHET: the true eye
AGE: 39
FACECLAIM: Matteo Martari
THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: artistic, sensitive, mirthful
THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: terse, indulgent, impetuous
Biography:Ā 
The second son in the esteemed Guzman family, Francisco was raised without the burden of title, or the belief that he would amount to anything great. A second son status allowed him to grow up jealous of his brother, whilst free to pursue whatever he chose - the fate of the family, did not rest with him. Francisco was always a curious, bright and happy child, who tottled around getting into anything when left unattended.Ā 
Francisco loved and hated his brother - they shared a bond, interests, a love that exists without thought of question. But it was his brother who received their parents praise their title and lands, and above all - he, who was allotted Maria, as a bride. Whenever he visited home, he could not help the coils of jealousy which wound in his stomach; but like all of Francisco's demons, he felt a sense of delight, a further cause to create.Ā 
Despite being seen as a lesser child, Francisco displayed early promise in the arts - he was sent to Florence as a teen to study with the masters. Francisco's skills lay in his highly life like and rich portraits, which remarkably capture the essence of whoever he has painted. As a courtier, he has been established at the Spanish court since his early twenties, and has painted not only the Spanish royal family, but members of the French; along with the great masters who rule of Venice and Florence.
Cheerful, fun loving, passionate, devout in his Catholicism and married to his vision of what it means to be an artist, Francisco is a deeply kind, but tortured man - he believes his agony, to improve his heart. He's never been wed, though he's come close on several occassions; he's a one man, one woman, type of feller. When Francisco is in love, he's as devout as a saint. He longs for a family, but knows few would wish to tie themselves to an artist, when a man of titles and wealth is present - he earns a considerable living, but prefers to live modesty, save for the extravagence of his studio.Ā 
The death of his brother (rip king <3) was a blow to their family - he had left behind no male heirs, and their titles reverted to the Crown. Francisco mourned his brother; but he couldn't say he was not pleased, to be Maria's chief comforter, and to be rid of the man who he viewed as unworthy, of her beauty (and melons). But they are good Catholics, so they are but perpetually longing and dreading sin. He's trailed her to England, in the hopes of capturing the new King in a portrait, and the birth of a new court; but he's also thirty nine, and looking to turn a new chapter in his life.Ā 
Wanted Connections:Ā 
1. Patrons, art lovers - perhaps he painted your character or a member of their family, or visited court when they were there; maybe they would like a portrait or are a fellow lover of the arts.
2. Religious connections - Francisco is zealous in his beliefs, but enjoys theological debates; maybe your character would provide them interesting and conflicting conversationsĀ 
3. Friends/enemies/lovers/ any all connections!!!Ā 
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