#[Giovanni Vespucci]

[artofimmy]

Tried doing the Color Wheel Meme as a coloring exercise. It ended up not just being a success, but it REALLY helped me grasp coloring in ways I couldn't before, like limiting a palette per character, keeping an eye on values and saturation, and other things of color theory that, while I know what they are, I have a difficult time implementing it.

Some colors are swapped around on some characters like Rashid's kaftan and cloak, while others like Giovanni, Frascona, and Guy are given adjusted hues not only appropriate of color theory, but even what colors would have been available during the early 18th century. Ruixiong may be unusual given that deep purple would have been impossible to obtain unless you're swimming in money, but hey, it's color practice, he probably stole the dyes and made Abena make his hanfu, or just outright stole from a rich person. Or have the Master give him the bajillion sea snails needed to make the dye WHO CARES?

No, Ulan isn't really that blue.

[amethystatargatis]

“Oh, the Lord God sent you, personally? You really think that? Believe that you are the Scourge of God, a golden, glitzy Atilla?”

Carmen breaks out into a mocking cackle.

“Silly stupid sailor bold! Are you really so arrogant to think yourself that important! You, a mortal man, so blinded by the shine of gold you can’t even see the soul inside your own self - what idiot god would send someone like you to be the Scourge of anything except perhaps himself! Ha ha ha ha ha....”

The mermaid collects herself, covering her lips with her claws playfully.

“Your master, the flaccid penis he may be, is not bewitched by glimmer and shimmer like a foolish fish like I may be. For all his boasting, all his showboating, all his arrogance, he does know one thing for certain - the value of a Soul. As do I, and all things of the sea, great and small. You believe him to be sold on pyrite, but in truth it is you who can not tell the difference from it and a ducat. You make quite the poor merchant prince, I do believe! Hee hee hee!”

“Then what exactly did you give to your Master in exchange for his promises to begin with?” @amethystatargatis

"The spiritual equivalent of pyrite--

"'Fool's gold'.

"The Lord God sends punishment towards sinners of the Earth who go against His Word and His love. And as such, I was sent to spread misfortune upon those who created it to begin with. But misfortune would continue to spread to those undeserving, and yet the Lord would not strike me down and send me where I belong to finish His work. So I decided to to make my own destiny--and give whatever mockery of a soul He gave me to a Devil.

"My Master is not aware of the falseness this soul is. I had to fabricate worth. And right now, he is taken in by the glimmer. I just have to keep on polishing it.”

[lookthedevilintheeye]

"...the boat has STAMINA?!"

"What kind of a boat has stamina?!"

"Especially one that requires furling up your sails to recover?"

"Nevermind apparently all you need to man it is to just have one person behind the helm and no one else."

"Splendid!! Hey, Devil Pirates!! Our boat doesn't need a whole crew to man it too!"

Oh, no. La Demonia Roja groans as one of her scuppers very slowly leaks water.

Giovanni sobs as he hugs one of the masts. "It's okay, Demonia!! You're still special to us!"

"You made our ship cry!! FIRE!!"

It only took one rinky dink canonball to sink the Hurley Crew's ship instantly.

"OH WHAT THE BLOODY HELL??!!"

"Just gather a couple trees and you can repair your boat."

"But these trees are already harvested despite no one having come here!"

"That's a you problem, then."

[sins-of-the-sea]

//Which STP Voice is Gio?

Yes.

[sins-of-the-sea]

Giovanni plays 'Slay the Princess'!

"....... This is just me every day, princess or not."

"Including the many voices in your head, a nagging Narrator, always being forced to kill, frequently dying, exposure to eldritch horror, and the constantly looming neverending existential dread?"

"Especially the many voices in my head, a nagging Narrator, always being forced to kill, frequently dying, exposure to eldritch horror, and the constantly looming neverending existential dread.

[sins-of-the-sea]

"Oh, naaaah. That's a trick I can do! Watch!" With a slight movement of his hand, Ruixiong moves a chair for 115 to sit on without even being near it. The chair scooted along the floor at first, making scraping noises. As this was an unpleasant sound, Rui lifts the chair then gets it onto the ground so his new friend can sit. Not once did it touch the ground until 115 would sit.

The scraping sound, though, alerted Giovanni to exit the galley to bark at Ruixiong. "Dammit, Ruixiong!! I told you, that's all going to be-"

He then jumps back in surprise, not expecting at all to see a young fellow with blue hair and a tail. "Who is that?!!?"

"Oh, hey, shagua!! This is my new buddy, Xiaolong! Xialong, this is my best friend in the entire world: Giovanni! I call him Jinwan!" 'Shagua' is just a Rui endearingly calling him 'idiot'.

"H-… Hello…" Giovanni mutters sheepishly. "P-Pleased to meet you... W-Where did you come from?"

"No..." More of that bad feeling about his family. They didn't have tails like him either...

The thoughts stewed in the back of his mind as he followed and listened to Rui. He was also looking around as well, having never seen cannons or been inside a ship.

"Oooh?" And then they got to the kitchen area, where all the foods he's never seen or tasted before.

"Wait, Pork can float like it's in water?" Xiaolong asked Rui before grabbing the bun and stuffing it in his mouth. With the chewing and tail wagging, the half dragon seems to love it.

[history-of-fashion]

1640-1660 Giovanni Martinelli - Isabella Vespucci

(Casa Museo Colocci Vespucci)

[sins-of-the-sea]

//A friend wanted to see what an older Giovanni would look like if he was allowed to regain mortality and age, and I did mention somewhere in the blog he'd definitely gain weight and get a 'dad bod' of sort. Though the original idea was that he'd resemble his father Antonio and older brother Gregorio, but that ended up not happening when I finally sat down to draw, lmao.

The two outfits are under the assumption Giovanni becomes 50s by the 1770s-1800s.

The specs stay on, though if you insist:

I can't hide the left eyebrow anymore, his hair got too short/thinned out.

[maranzalla]

19, 32, 33

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

I’m sure I do, I am guilty of many adverbs. The issue is that I do not always notice it, and right now as I wear down at the wall sentence by sentence I do not always get the luxury to write in order. So I read it all again to review it, and I find I have written the exact same phrase in three consecutive instances because I actually wrote it on three separate nights trying to squeeze some juice out of the creative state. But heh.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

I know my dialogue fucks. I cackle madly sometimes when I reread some of my bangers and you guys don't even see what remains on the cutting room floor.

19 Post a WIP snipped with no context below the cut as it's long (the wall is permeable tonight!)

“What do you mean, why? I killed her husband. It’s only appropriate.”

[You didn’t kill her husband, the poison in the wine did, which is fair and appropriate, considering the fact that the Templars were going to use the spiced wine to poison Lorenzo de’ Medici – oh, why are you even explaining things? It’s useless!]

“But I was there, Diletta! I could have refused. I indulged him, we drank-”

[He! Was! A! Templar!]

“- and he died!”

[You almost died as well, you stupid bastard! If it weren’t for me, you would have died too! you screech, but it’s like Giovanni can’t even hear you.]

“- and you’ve seen how it is in there! Her life was going to be ruined as a widow. She might as well be dead already. ”

[Oh, may the good lord spare me from the fate of a young, pretty widow. You would have had a new husband in a week – well, make that ten months. A rich, elderly, new husband. This is how you play the game, none of that crying and sobbing shut up in your room. No wonder Soderini wanted to get her sent to a convent. ]

“Madonna Paola said that messer Vespucci won’t take her back, he says his daughter is cursed. Cursed. A woman has no rights in the eyes of the law unless she has a male guardian or a solicitor… would you enjoy the elder Soderini as a guardian? ”

[A solicitor. And her dead husband’s money. Blood money. Weregild. Oh, you see it now. This is how you buy back your conscience, you filthy soulless Genoese bastard, for not drinking yourself to death with the younger Soderini.]

“Maybe. But it bad after all? Why are you so mad that we made some balance in this perverse world?”

[EXPERIENCE A MOMENT OF PERSONAL INSIGHT?]

[No.]

[You’re just … it’s so unfair. It’s so unfair. No one ever turned up with a magic sheet of paper that fixed all your problems for you. No one plucked you from the precipice by the scruff of your pretty gown and offered you salvation: you had to get down in the mud and crawl in your sweat and tears while getting kicked in the teeth. The fact that these things can, in fact, happen, just not to you, has sent you in some sort of spiral.]

[You cannot actually bring yourself to say any of this out loud: you feel tears pushing your eyeballs out of your skull, and you know that if you actually lose your composure now, Giovanni might even try to console you, which would be the worst possible thing. You keep seeing in your mind’s eye the moment he handed madonna Vespucci her fortune: right now, if he were kind to you as well you could not possibly withstand it.]

[You must steer your ship away from these dangerous waters. On safer shores, cold, precise, hard...]

[THINK ABOUT MONEY?]

[Where did the money come from, anyway? Soderini’s father is still alive, so he hadn’t come into his inheritance yet…]

“It comes from the Auditore banco.”

[What?]

“Yes. Those funds got frozen when messer Auditore and his sons were executed as rebels to the Republic of Florence, so the Gonfaloniere could annex the money and estate. Soderini had the deeds and he was supposed to deposit them into the Bank of St. George, and the Templars would have gotten them…”

[But you made me will his deposit to his wife.]

“Yes! Isn’t it great? Do you know that madonna Vespucci was actually promised to Ezio Auditore before this whole shitshow started? I found the prenuptial in the archives of the Comune. This way it all stays in the family ...Ezio would agree, I’m sure.”

[You can ask him.]

“He’s alive?”

[Yes. Oh, yes.]

“Ah… Well, Lorenzo seemed to think it was a good idea.”

[Oh, you’re sure he did. Lorenzo de’ Medici seems to think anything can be fixed with a big enough deposit of florins. You’re so flabbergasted by the sheer enormity of this stunt that you do not even register Giovanni refers to the shadow tyrant of Florence on a first name basis. ]

“He’s really alive? Ezio Auditore? Because I think she might like to know-”

[What? Stop it! Stop being such a… such a solicitor!]

“No, no, I think it might make a fantastic novella. Lost love reunited. Don’t you like to read this sort of stuff?”

[This is it. You’re going to truly be sick now.]

[…]

[SEQUENCE ENDED.]

[sins-of-the-sea]

…Okay, yeah that did it. As soon as Ruixiong is shot in the arm, he is now too debilitated to do anything, not even float. Sure, he can still flee, but the initial pain is too much to overcome to even think about fleeing right now.

"操你妈, 贱女人!! You'll get yours! You'll get yours!!" Ruixiong screams as he writhes on top of the roof, now with an arm and leg shot. And as if things can't get any worse…. his rolling was careless enough to get him to fall off the roof.

And that's not all.

"Ruixiong! Ruixiong! Where are you?! We need to get back to the ship!" Giovanni calls out, unaware of Malik's party and without any intention to crash it. Nevertheless, he's still an intruder. Don't worry, Nabe, no need to reload your rifle.

Because Ruixiong fell on Giovanni, thereby knocking them both out. It shouldn't take too long for Malik to send someone else to take out the trash.

He looked mad.

Nabe... guessed that was a reasonable response, given the circumstances. He's the one who started it, though.

... That bandage on his other leg looked like it'd make a nice target, would that be too mean?

Probably, actually. It's already hurt.

She decided to hit one of his arms instead.

Hm... most people are right-handed so if Nabe aimed for his left, he should be mostly okay, right? Yeah, that would probably be right.

His left arm... That's the one on the right?

He was moving around too much to make this easy. Rude.

Deep breath and... BANG!!

[desempero]

Pezzi di vita ritrovati per caso dentro una bozza mai inviata.

Le nuvole mi hanno rincorso in questo week end. La pioggia mi ha sfiorato riuscendo a prendermi soltanto oggi, quando il grigio del cielo si è sciolto in una pioggia triste e senza speranza.

Ieri, quando sono tornato a casa, c'era il cielo azzurro e Firenze mi è sembrata casa mia con tutti i suoi cantieri e le ferite inferte da una fiumana di clienti soddisfatti, arrivati qui da ogni distanza, per passeggiare dentro una storia unica, svenduta un tanto al chilo. Con il tempo ho anche imparato a rispettare la spocchia dei miei concittadini, a ridere della prosopopea con cui si ergono a padri della lingua, unici depositari di ogni verità e competenza in fatto di arte, di costume, di bon ton.

Poi li vedi contare i soldi come qualunque bottegaio e capisci che Firenze è un palcoscenico meraviglioso dove mandare in scena il peggio.

E allora guardi con occhi benevoli quello che sulla spalletta aspetta paziente che il sole scenda dietro Ponte Vecchio.

Con qualche filtro adatto la foto sarà magnifica, racconterà ai suoi amici una magia che esiste solo nella memoria.

Ma è di sicuro la città di mia figlia, è casa sua anche se è nata a Bagno a Ripoli perché il nostro Ospedale di riferimento fa parte di quel Comune: Ospedale Santa Maria Annunziata..

Gli ospedali storici sono quasi tutti intitolati ai Santi: Santa Maria Nuova è quello in centro costruito da Folco Portinai alla fine del 1200, poi c'è l'Ospedale San Giovanni di Dio che invece di illustre ha solo il nome, ereditato dal Vecchio Ospedale San Giovanni di Dio in Borgo Ognissanti che risale al 1300, fatto costruire dalla famiglia Vespucci e infine lo Spedale degli Innocenti, primo brefotrofio in Europa.

A Napoli il complesso de "Gli Incurabili" è un magnifico insieme di chiese, dell'ospedale vero e proprio e della farmacia settecentesca.

Santa Maria del Popolo degli Incurabili.

Ora invece li chiamano Azienda Ospedaliera e non so se sia meglio farsi ricoverare in un posto che si chiama "incurabili" o in uno che si chiama "azienda".

Tutto questo discorso sui nomi degli ospedali non nasce dalla mia depressione.

Lavorando con i medici ho tutti i giorni a che fare con i reparti ospedalieri e mi ha sempre incuriosito la toponomastica. 

A Udine per esempio, si chiama Santa Maria della Misericordia e l'indirizzo è Piazza Santa Maria della Misericordia, a Palermo si chiama Cervello..

Torino invece si è mostrata come al solito con il suo vestito antico ed elegante e le sue periferie degradate. La Stazione di Porta Nuova è una delle più belle in Italia e mi sarebbe piaciuto vederla nei primi anni del secolo scorso. Ho fatto solo due passi fino all'hotel dove c'era il convegno.

Ho ascoltato medici che parlavano anche del mio fegato, usando parole spaventose come epatocarcinoma o sigle poco comprensibili, SVR, che sta per guarigione, eradicazione del virus..

Sul treno di ritorno c'era una giovane donna su una carrozzella con un respiratore, che si esprimeva con suoni gutturali​, non articolati. Sclerosi credo, SLA o qualche altra orribile patologia. Rideva, o forse era una paresi facciale ma tutte le donne che aveva intorno le parlavano, l'ascoltavano.. Mi sono sentito un po' stupido nei miei piccoli dolori ma lo so che è una visione inutile della vita, che non è cercando chi sta peggio che non senti male.

Stasera invece sto cercando il ragazzo senza qualità che assaggiava il mondo a bocca e occhi aperti e a volte mi sembra quasi di vederlo.

Ma per un attimo soltanto.

[theitalianrenaissance]

Genoa

Not many people know this, but the Renaissance was the time when exploration became popular. Columbus along with many other explorers during the Renaissance were a part of the Italian maritime republics who served under European Monarchs to do expeditions for them. Other explorers were Giovanni da Verrazzano (sailed for France), Amerigo Vespucci (sailed for Portugal), and John Cabot (sailed for England). Columbus, although he was born here in Genoa, sailed for Spain.When I first arrived in Genoa, I felt a little lost. This city doesn’t have many ties to the Renaissance, and Columbus didn’t spend much of his life here before moving to Spain. Instead of letting the disconnect hinder my plans I walked around the city, soaking in the culture. I can definitely understand where Columbus got his seafaring personality from since Genoa is a port city. It’s right on the water with a curvature on the shoreline, making it enclosed enough to get on the water. Genoa was a lovely city, and had easy access to the water, which Columbus seemed to love, but I couldn't understand why he would leave. 

(15/19)

[delectablywaywardbeard-blog]

Nave Vespucci lascia Dakar diretta a Capo Verde

Lo scalo a Dakar della nave Vespucci si è concluso nella serata di ieri con un ricevimento a bordo riservato alle autorità locali e al corpo diplomatico cui ha preso parte anche il ministro del petrolio e delle energie del Senegal, Sophie Gladima, che si è intrattenuta con l’Ambasciatore d’Italia, Giovanni Umberto De Vito, il Comandante Romagnoli e gli allievi dell’Accademia Navale. A fare da…

[littlewanderingsoul-archive]

[sins-of-the-sea] 53. A playground

Send me a number and I’ll write a starter for our muses in that setting

The ghost watched from the swing as a young man wandered around. He seemed to be distressed, and searching for something.

After a few minutes of watching, it got up to follow him from a distance.

A glint in the grass caught the ghost’s eye. It glanced down, where a coin sat nestles in a clump of crab grass.

It picked the coin and rushed to the young man’s side, and held up the coin to him

@sins-of-the-sea

[sins-of-the-sea]

Down, down, down, Giovanni sinks, the gilded pirate descending deeper and deeper into the depths. He didn’t have to go far, however. He knew he was getting closer to where the Master was by the paradoxical environment of the abyss. Instead of an icy cold, he was feeling searing fire. Instead of the bludgeoning pressure, he was feeling lighter from the bubbles. Instead of the blanketing dark, he was being blinded by luminescent light.

Though there is one surprise Giovanni wasn’t expecting. 

Normally when he speaks to the Master, he hears one voice, one language, reverberating and distorted from the water.

Here, he can’t tell how many he is hearing, what is being said, and how. Is he truly facing the Master?

“Master?!”

阿̷̡̖̗̟͍̥̀̇͑͑̓͘͝ͅ斯̶͍̰̻̰̫̦̇̏́̃̕͜͜͝法̴͖̮̳̎̌̌̎̈́̒p̶̡̢̮̘̯̜̞͚̅̀͂́̊̈́͠ḝ̷̰͌̎̆y̷͖̎v̷̖͖͍̟̂̆ã̶̤̞̙̙͙̫̺̏͝ ̵̼͓͎͚̱͙̫̠͎͕̿̆̈́̆͝n̴͚̱̔͑́ͅe̸̻̝̟͌́̎͘͝ ̴̧̬̫̎̄̑̄̏͋͆h̶̼͎̠̗̼̓͗͌̈́̎̉̾̂̂͠ė̴̩̅̃̀̈́͘m̶̯͖̜̪͍͚͑̽̃̓͜û̴̢͍̰̟̟̥̰̣̜̹͗̀ ̶̡̛̫̣̈́ȩ̵͙̦͎̀n̸̨̡̺̮̲͖̳̋̊̿̇̆̓̂̕͠ ̴̢̜͓̟͉̥͖̙͒͛̐̂̏́̀̓̋͝斯̵̡̢̖̭͕͒̎͜夫̸̨̼͇̲̣͙̪̟̤̭̈́̈̕ ̸̲̰͇̭̰͓̃̀̂̉̈́̄̓̿̐阿̷̦̲̞̥͐̄̍́̀̓͊̋̓͜斯̶̻͓̖̺̰̫͊̈́̍̉̑̐̀͂̕̕法̷̢̣̤̼͇̭̓̈̾̑͘̚ك̴̧̺̯̲̼̜̀̓͑͜ل̴̡͉̥̘͙͙͒͗̾̆̀̀͆̇̉͘م̶̛̟̿̀̓͂̑̈́̒̍͛ة̴̨͉͍̼̲̘̞̫̿̀͜ ̴̼͚̘̹̊̍̃̏ن̵̡̱̤̰̤̗͖̬̠̻̑̆́̊́͊̏͑̽͝ي̸̢̢̧̡̞̱̹̼͉͙͋̉́̋̑͝ ̷̡̨̜̦̩͍̰͕͇̃̎͂̕͘ك̶̢̔ل̴̘̗̜̗̪̻̱̯͌̽̇͝ ̶̧̱̞̜̹̠̥̩̾̀̇̐͘̕͠أ̶̛̩̮̈̀͌̅̏̈́͝و̸̩̘͇̄̆ن̷̩̥̯͚̩̘̠͎̟̍̅͑斯̵̟̾̓夫̴̧̺͑́̊̄̊͑̍ ̴͇̰̯͚̝̦̱̭͊͐̈̀̆͒͊͆̈́̕阿̸̘͓̖͚͗̿͐̏̎̈́̓̅̒͝斯̸͓̺͔͙͔̪͎̪͚̱̾̀̿͒̿͝法̷̛͇̹͇̲̐͂̇͘͝͝��͎͜斯̶̛͈͊̆̏̾͝夫̶͓̳̃̓̔̔͛͜ ̸̢̼͕͓̥̹͇̭̜̼͛̉阿̸̧̩͔̼̬̘̱͇̯̺̒͒ك̸̛͕̻̭̩̃͆̏̐ل̷̛̳̻͇̱̥̗̋̒̃͑ͅم̷̭͉̜̮͎͉̹̈́́̍ة̴̛͚̝̬̜̥͑̽ͅ ̶̜͍͕̦̐̋ن̵͖͐̑͊͂̂̍͂̈͘ي̸͚̀̆͛̔̿͌͋̇̕ ̷̧̤͆̂̅ك̶̝̼͉͎͖̈́̍̚ل̷̥̩̦̹̆̓̄̊͗͝͝ ̷̛͙͍̂͒̆͆͑͝͝ͅأ̵̡͎̭̼̒̑͌͜و̷̬̻̮͌́̒̅̄̚͝ن̴̡̙͖̹̩̭̌̀̂̔̚͜͝斯̵̬͔̰̻̲̠̦̒͌̀法̵̛̞̗̜̟͒̌͒̋̀̊̊̆͑斯̷̧̱͈̪̜̰͕̰̣̄̇̄̀̾̀̑͘͝夫̷̨̡̘̩̽̌̉͛̃̉̕͘阿̶͓͓̼͇̪̓̓̈̏̇斯̷̫͓̯̼̫͈̽̿̿͒法̴̐̒̿̚͜斯̶̟̥̱̪̤̪̹̺̮̹̆̎̆̍̈̐͑̅͠夫̶̺̇̃̓͌̿̈̉͝阿̶̛̲斯̷̫̱͐̎̀̄̀͋͊̈ͅ法̵͉͓̺͈͖̻͊͜͠ͅͅ斯̸̧̻̃́̔͐̎͐͝夫̷̨̺̣̘̥͍͓͍͓̔̄p̸͕̱͇̹͙͖͚͈͂͛͊̍͝͠͠è̷̛̖̑̍̇͒́ỳ̶̹͚̓̃̕̕v̸͍̬̰̤̞̲̼̝̝̈̐̇͑͒͋͂͛͘͝ḁ̴̓͋̃͌̿ ̴̧̧̢̣̦̜̆̃̉̄͒̐̋̕ǹ̷̪͉̣͙̼̺̞̠͎̿͆̂͜͝e̴͈̣͍̭̳̱̿͒̃͛̃̀̈́̕ͅ ̸̡̹̼͚̺͂͜ͅ ̵̗̦̟̜̕ḩ̷̰͙̺̭̟͈̙̺̀̑̅ę̸̙͉͓̱̮̂̇̈́̉m̵̡̦̟̼͙̲̦͊̒͝û̷̳̗̈̃͊̆̅͂̈́͑͝ ̵̢̢̣͉͎͈̘͆̀̑̉̄̍e̵͔̣͑̍̀ṇ̵̡͚̘̙͖̮̜̭̪̄͆͛ ̷̹̼̘̫̣͊̽͗͂̉̈̂̚̚͝ ̷̡̢̧̰̗͓̘̲̥́̄̓ͅ阿̷̣̏́̈́̈斯̶̳͛͝法̶̡̞̬̺̅̿̏́̍̈́̕斯̴̢̼͍̤͓̀̈́̒̽̈̓͗夫̷̣͔̝͖̟͕͚͖̂̆͐͗̄ ̸̡͍͎̼̤͍̘̾̌͋͆̈́̕阿̸̻̠̘̰̹̎̓̕斯̴̨̼͖͙̱͖̣͊̓̓̀̈̎́͆̈́͠法̵̛̞̰͖̃͒͐̏͂́斯̸͓͈̅̌̓̽夫̷̧͕͈͖̦̝̯̺̺̉̍̇ك̴̧̡̰̳͕̼̞̦͌̏͗̅̿̋͜͜͠͝ل̸̡͚̫̂̾̋͝م̵̹̩͙̰̞͐͠ة̴̮͍̖̝̓͒̅̏̀̋͊͆͜͠ͅ ̵̙͇̺̻̫̱͎̮͐͗̓ن̶̥̼͈̺̗̩̮̳̾͂͜͝ي̶̨͎̩̜̞͇̜̍͑̑̈ ̶̨̢̜̘̺͐͋͋̂̾͜ك̸̨̫͈̯͔̬̻̅̆̐̄̀͒͒͝ل̷̠͇͉̜͚̖̰̎̃͐̃͒̀͗ͅ ̵̡̡̛̗̣͓̪̻̎͊̏̽̈́̌̎̓̕أ̸̝̯̠̝̅و̷̩̑͒ن̸͓̝̱̯̮̻̉̋͂̀̓̐̒阿̴̢̻͙͉͔͂͌̎̑̌̎͝斯̵̨̤͈͔̫̳̅̈́̒̉̅̔̿̇̎法̴͕̬̄斯̷̭̱͉̻̖̯͍͓̼̔̓̚夫̵̜͉̝͍͚̬̰͙̈̓ ̸̨̢̛̣́̾́͆͘͜͠͠阿̵̗̯̳͋͠p̷̛͈̎̽̍̽͆̏͒̀̐ę̵̫̞̹̠̦̤̓͑͊y̴̟͎̺̽̽̾̒̃̓̔̓̂͑v̶̞̟͚̜̳̮̈͜a̵̩͈͖̝̙͈̮̣͛̿̅̈̄͋͗̄͝ ̶̛͋��͖͈̲̤̞̪̈́ṉ̸̨̩̟͚̣̦̭͍͑͊̈́̿̀ͅс̶̛̟̩̳͊̐̇̀̀̋̔͆̚л̶͎͇̖̘͓̣̈́̊͑̈̆̕͜͠͝о̵̝̋̔͋͌͂́̋͊̽в̶̼͙̻̥̗̥̣̫͑́̃о̷͈̣͐ ̵̦̅͐̿̄̏͌̾͛н̶̨̡͚̭̜̣̝͊̾͗̈́̉̂͂̀е̸̫͋̅̀͐̋́̀͠ ̶͓͓͕͎̤̓̈̋̾̀̿̕͜в̸̢̬̠̳́́́̍̐̂̓̅͊̑ͅс̷͖̋е̶̤͖͙͈̗͙͔͕̼̎̉̒͒͆̂̌̚͝ ̸̺̐̾̑͂̔̓̚̕͜͝͝э̷̪̥̯̜̤̱̣̗͒̀͂͑̚͜н̶͕̳͍̜̒̑̒́̀͐͗͌̕͜͠ę̷̙̲͉͓͕͇̲͆̈́͗͜͜ ̶̖̫͕̜̟͓̝̳̍͊̓̄͌́̈́̚͠h̷̰̩͚̣̔͆̀ë̶̫̝͕̘̮͔͓͈̿̀͛m̴̧̖͔̓̔̾̾̂́̍͘û̷̢̧̮̟̘̄͝ ̴̪̲̩̬̰̗̰̩͎͛ͅę̵̤̮̣̗͊̽̎͝ͅn̵̨̦̯̫̫̞̈́斯̶̢̧̮͈̱̓́̿̕法̸̜͓́͑̏̔͂̃̚͜͠ͅ斯̴̯̣̪͓̲̼͔́͆́̾̆͆̇͝͝夫̵̧̭̣̙̯̝̭̞́阿̵̨̡͖̪̝͔̦̮͒̍͠͠斯̸̞̱̫̞͎͆̚̚法̴̡̺͔͎͙͎̺̤̟̈́͋̈́̄̔̆͐̓̉̚斯̴͙̥̥̭͑̇͘͠夫̴̛̏͂̚͜͝͠ ̴̡̧͈̮̰̮͙́̽̅͑̊͋͒͂̍̚阿̸̦̝̭̠̟̰̝̙̻̉斯̸̧̢͓͇̠̫̤̟̼̖́̃͛̑͒͒͠法̸̘̩̓́̽斯̴̛͚̳̳̅́͐́̆夫̴̫͈̰̻̤͙̺̲͠ ̶̠͌̿͛̓̒͐̃̓̚͠阿̸̡̪̘͎͙̲̗̳̜͛̋ك̸̛̦̲̠̻̝͆̄̋́̈̿̚͘̚ل̴̢̧̬̬̣̰̮̽م̵͎̀̓͋͋̉̑͝ة̶̛̘̣̳̘̐͊̎ ̸̬͙̲̱̆͂̋ن̸̞̬̣̩̟̄̒̊̒̚ي̸͔̮̓́̔̓̌̀͒̉͝ ̷̠̗̗̰͈̀̏̋͛̕͜͠ͅك̶̡̨̙̘̣̪̲̤̦̩̃̽̽̈́͆ل̶̺̪̯̫͙̗̑ ̴̳̫͕͎̻̙̦̐̕͘͠͝͠͝͠أ̷̜̭̪̫̗̭̿́̈́و̷̢̡̻̠͈̘͈̘͍̎͌̋͑̎͜͝ن̶͔̱̦̗͚̪͎̋́͒̋͠斯̵͕̪̲̺̙͖̪̒̀̏̐̍͐̍͋̚法̴̧̰̲͍̺͕̬͔̑́͑̌̑̊̈́͜͝斯̶̨̫͉̜͇̠̦̈́̔̉̾͑̾̿͆́̾с̶̱̩̻͙̟̓̾л̶͚̮̙̓̒̈́̀̍ӧ̸̡͓͚͓̫̣̬̀̈́̓̅в̴̥̪̼̯͉̠̗̈́̅̊̋͒̃̾͗̀́о̷̢͖͙͓̦̼̒ ̸̛̟̝̲͙͍̑̌̏̀̍͌̕н̷̲̠̘͈̣̩̥͕͍̈́͌̀͐̔̈́̓̚͘е̵̛̜͈̿̀̊̾̿͆̈̓ ̸̩͍̗̹̮̹̥͈͆͗͜в̷̛̭͋̉̍͠с̷͓̮̗͆̍̈͌̅̈̔́͜ͅе̶̢̢͚̭̪̪̠̼̤̖̑̍͒̀͒̇͝ ̵͍̈́ӭ̸̪̻̝̤̱̝̜́̄̇̅н̵̢͕̳͆̃͑̌夫̸̜̜͓̜̫͆̂̎̿̆̽̔ͅ阿̷̭̪͍̻̻̺̰̭̏ͅͅ斯̸̡̛͙̭͇̤̩̽̏̈́̐̅͝͝͝法̸̪̩̣̤̜̼̻͙͌̅̈͂̌͘͠ͅ斯̸̡̮͇̮̼͚̻̰̘̿̀̀͂̅̌夫̴̫͕͕̱͊̑̍͑阿̴̥̜̣̏͜斯̵̨̯̲̲͖̗͖̺́̐法̸̺̭̦̦̊ͅ斯̸̛͇͙̣̗̥͆͋̿̄̆̎̉ͅͅ夫̷̮̱͕͖̈́͛ك̷̡̘̝̥̪͎̋̉̍̿͒̋͛͜͝͝͝ل̵͇̦̲͈̪̜̿̾͂̊̓̕͝م̵̠̥̹̫̩̆̒̇͋��ة̶̮̫̝̺̲̝̮̬̝̪̿̋̓̾̔̀̉̇̓ ̶͙̪̣̯̮͈̍͐͗̇̌̊̑͝ن̵̡͉̳̲̥̘̎͆̔͘ي̵̨̮̺͔̭̱̖̝͙̋͒̚ ̴̛̳̣͑̀̔̐̎͑̈́ك̷̢̫̝̥̦͓͎̼̊̏̒̌͘͜͝ل̷̙͎́̂̈̔͗͘ ̸̱͉̼̲̥͔͔͕͎͛̅͋̒̂͆ͅأ̷̗̲͔̜̘͓̺̖̒́̍͠و̵̡̤̲̠͚̼̝̜̩̋̂͋̈́̚̕ن̶̨̻̪̃̊͋͂͒̇̆̔͂̅阿̷̝̥̘̮͍͛斯̵͇̊̕法̵̨̞͖͓̦̪͕̜̥̈́͒̍͝斯̸̙̗̤̳̮̬̖̼̇͋̏̓̾̇͛̕͜夫̴̹̮͐͛̄͂ ̵̛̻͔̌́̌͐̋̍̄̇̕阿̷̨̘̝̰̋͗̊͛́́̂͆̕͝斯̷̛͉̌̒͊́̒́̌͝法̴̡̨̛̘͙̪̤͆̏̃̏̂̓͝͠斯̴̡͉̮̙͖͔̍̊̾̔͛̒̓̉̊̊͜夫̷̧̧̲̗͎̭̺̗̠͋̊̋̽͝

“Master!! It’s me! The Sin of Greed!”

阿̵̬̣͎͙̗̓̂͐̋̚斯̷̯͖̮̪̻̦̼̱̉̽̋͋̌̃͘̚法̸̝̙͖͚̗͂̌̄̾̉́̚ͅp̴̡͇̥̗̽͊̽̈́́̆̍͝ĕ̴͈̫̯̬͔͙͉y̵͓̭͔̯̯͉̩͛̋́̈̎͗͑̚v̸̨̫̦͔̼͖̝͋̉̑̐͋͝a̸̝͉͂̈́̿̌̐̚͝ ̸̨̈̋̾̈́n̵͉̫͇̜͚͉̂͌̆̐̍ͅͅė̴̺̭̤̋ ̷̨̨̡̞̞̻̟̯̉̂̓͛͝h̵̝͉̣̘̫̒̇̄ȩ̵̘̣̔̂́̽̂̊́͝ͅm̸͓̀̆̃̿̓̒̍̕û̷̺̗̔̓̀ ̴̝͗̽̊͂ȇ̶̖̣̯͙̺̜̈́ṅ̴̰͉̻̦̖͌ ̸̡̢̲͔̻̗͒̾̈́͊̓̂̒̿͜斯̸̩͖̝̏́̍̚͝夫̷̧̗̈́̊̈́͐̔̅͆̕ ̶̬̾阿̵͕̀͆̐̎͌̕͘斯̴̠͉̯̙̋͐法̸͇͑̅ك̶̻̬͍̹͈̤͆͋͋̚͘ل̵̨͙̹̠̱̐̈م̵̢̨̲͖̎̽͜͝ة̸̙̝̜́̓̈̔̕̕ ̷̛͚͊̾̒̆͂̋ن̸̖̯͙̞͎̓̿̆̓̈́̿͜͝ي̸̢̹̼̭͕͉͈̤̈́͊ ̶̪͉͙̑͋͝ك̶̛͙̱͕̦͈͎̮̯̋͒̀̎͠ل̷͔͌̉̂́͛̿̕͘ ̶̧͔̣̤͕̲͕̞̅̓̔͋̀̽͘͝أ̴̞̳͑͜و̴̫̺̘̌̃̽ن̵̳̳̺̞̘̮̻̌̎斯̶̛́̓̀͘͜͝夫̶̖̼̻̖̄̈́́̚ ̵̫̳͇̭̇͑̂̌̈́̉͝阿̷̲̎̄̅̔͠斯̶̺̿̒法̸̧̛̤̻̬͎͕̾̇͊̈́̉斯̶̡͉̭̜̟͕̳̐̎夫̸̫́̿͐ ̴̧̗̭̗̤̍̈͋̉阿̵̝̊̿̍͂̒ك̶̧͖̼̙̹͓͈̔̇̀͛̕ل̷̧̞̇م̵̧̢̪͓̂͒̕ة̶̮͎͙̜͖͉̮̿ ̴͚͓͚̬͖͕̽͑̃̐̎͐ن̵̹̞̪͖̩̲͔́͂̈́̍͘͜ي̸̦̭̑͆̐̅ ̸̧̢̛̗͔͐̈͊͜ك̶̥͖͈͎̳̩̽͆ل̵͖͔̦͚̒̽̈̑̍͠ ̷̛̻̘̼̰̲̦̍͂͆أ̶̮̌͊̎̏̏͑و̶̮͚̭̟̑̆̅̎͊̂̾̃ن̸̣̲̫̇̂̊̃͂͂͘͝斯̸͉̜̄̅̚法̴̛̰͓͒̒̌斯̶̝̠̮̹̂̈́̊̒̌̋夫̸͎̣̯͙̎́́͊͗̑̾阿̴͎̲̯̤̇̄斯̴̛̲́̈́͗̈́̄͘͠法̷̦̔́斯̷̹̖͉̋̐͂夫̶̧̨̮̻̙̉͑阿̷̨̫̠̞̤͚̩͊̈͐̈́̅́斯̷̙̲̤̳̫̙͌̽͐̐̍̎法̸̨̩̩̹͎̑̊̈̓̅斯̶͎̖̮̣͔̙̔̈́̔͘夫̴̨̢͉͇͙͚̈́́̌̌̀͜p̶͖̬͍̤͍̍̀̑͘e̶̢̤͊̂y̵̬̦͍͚̒͑̒̃v̷̥̖̋̒͘͘ä̵̱́̄̋̀̓̕͘͝ ̴̆̓͆͘ͅṋ̷̺͒̅̚è̸̖͎̺̼̂̀̎͐ ̴̒̂͊ͅ ̴͕͓͚̳̽͐̾ͅh̵̡̙̯̹̟͍͋̐͛̋̾͘e̴̱̫̬̥̼̟̘͊̑̓̔̅̾͜͠͝m̶͚͙̩̩̱̤̈́ų̷͚͓̜͈̰̻̂͋͆͌̽͘ ̴͎̏́ḛ̸͍͕̘̝̰̹̄n̵̛̝̝̹̰̠̎̉̉̆́̓͘ ̷̧͈̠̖̽̽̂ ̶̨̗̘̩̗͚͔̐̅̂͐̉̔͐͘阿̸̢̠͖͗́̓͊̐̌͘͝斯̴̻̳͇̭̼̏̓法̴̨̲͙̺͕̣͖͕̀͑̾͝斯̵̮̯̰̠̘͈͋͜͜夫̴̡̙̲̰̫̣͗̔͊͒ͅ ̸̡͖͕̯͈̼͒̐͐͑͑̐͗͜͝阿̷̡͕͇̝̫̱̲͖̂̄̓̓́̈́̚斯̵̣̑͋̒̈́̕͝法̴̪̤͈͊͆̄̈̈́̕斯̷̨̜̹͊̂͐̈́̕͝͝夫̶̼̻͙͈̿̊̌̽̂͝ك̵̧̧̞̟̞̈́͑̃̏͒͜ل̷̨̰̺̥̇͒́̕͜م̸̄̽̽̈́̉̀̍̕͜ة̷̣̰̖̌̓́͛̽̅ ̵͇̐̊͌̋ن̸͉̦̹̔̀̉͘ي̷̖̯̤͕͚̜̖͊̌͊̒̓͘͝ ̵͙̈́̅͋ك̸̥̫͙͚̩͖̱̅́̓̈̐́ل̷͕̹̻̹̖̟̿͂͒͛͌͗ͅ ̸͔̼̈́̒͐͂̕̚͝أ̷̯͌و̷̘͍̳͗͒́̈ن̸̮̘̬̰̉阿̶̧͓͙̝̼̣̲̈́͒͑͐̕͝斯̷͈͚͍̜̺͓̦̱̓̈́̓͆́͋͗̚法̸̲̗̲̃̐̅͝斯̷̡̜͚̞̰̣̱̈͆̓͆̽͝夫̷͕̦̬̺͖̑͋͐̋͂͗̉͜͜͠ͅ ̴̧̻̅阿̴̧̜̼̱̌̕͝͝p̶̘̣̲͋́̀̍̚͘ě̴̮̫̓͛y̷̢̭͎̼̻̖̻̠͒̍̾̕̚v̷̧̞̘͖̑̔̌a̸̛̘͎͕̙͉̍̂̓̍̃̀̀ ̴̮̮͈̼͍̍́͐̿̃̈́͊̕ͅñ̴̡̤̩͈̫̮̲̠̾͐̍͠с̶̲͋͆̒͌͒л̵̛̼̺̝̝о̴͛͌̈͜͝в̶̱͍̩̈͗̃̈́͜͝о̴̢́ ̸̡͕͎͖̯͚̝̇̀̓ͅн̴̘͕͒͋̍̈̉͠͠͝е̷̜̖̓ ̸̢̩̫̹͚̫͈̘̄͂̈́͐͆̾̕͝в̴͖̫̜̤̮̣̳̊́͊͝с̵̡̡̯͍͈̪̻́̽̀̄е̸͚̦̥͛̀͐̐̏̿͝ ̴̼͗͋э̷̢̨̹͔̖̖̠̘́̍н̵̰̯̘̯̹͕̊͌̉̓͌͌̈̕ȩ̴̗̑ ̴̼͂̌̉̈́̄h̷͔͓̟͓̻̪̮̯̀ȅ̶̛͇̘͎͉̀̏̆̀͠ḿ̸̧̈́͒̌̇͠û̴͓͔̪͇̦̯̒̈̆̐͜ ̵̢̧̫̀̑̽̉̀̚͘e̶̯̦̠̱͗̈͂̇͆̋̽͠ṉ̷̠̘͈̉̈́̉̔̍́̂斯̵̘̏͗̐͐̆͗̈́法̴̢̼͈̺̼̒̽̽̓̕斯̷̧͚̠̪̗̺͚̏̅̿̐͛̚̕͘ͅ夫̵̲̪̋͊͌̆͘阿̸̪̥͚̊̏͘斯̴̡̠̔̆̓͠ͅ法̷̡͓̰͓̃͆̒̒ͅ斯̶̡̹̝̥͈̒͑̓̈́̈́͐͜͠͠夫̴͇̟̜͙͇̽̃̆ ̴͚̟̅̃̔͛̌̚阿̴̞̳̭̤̻̺̻̖̾̑͋̌̎斯̸̨͉̞̼̠͙̋法̸̻͓͈͉̦̺͐̑͊̕斯̶͔͈̱̘̣̻̎͋̈́͜͜͝͠夫̵̜͌̍̈͜͝ ̸̢̚阿̴͕̦̣̼̓͋͌́̒͜ͅك̸̢̮̅ل̴͎̭̺̌̔̅̔̾̈́̐͠م̸̨̱̤͙͑̇̌̽̕͘��̞͚̹ة̵̳̠̮̈ ̷̨̣͉̬̙͂ن̴̛͍̑̆͛̽͠ي̸̢̘̠͇͙̒̅̍̑͋͘͠ ̴͕̖̦̠͉̈́͊̕͜ͅك̵̨̨̺̻̎͐͂̓̋͑̾͠ل̵̖̜̘̒̑̐͝ ̶̢̝͓̞̱̬̫̟̎̈́́́أ̸̢̪̠̫̌́̅͜و̶̻̭̺͔̄̃̐̀̂͌̔̋͜ͅن̸̩̝̲̰͍̺̰͠斯̶̡̗̠̥͕̉̈́̊法̷̪̘͚̼͚̏̋̈́̈́̂̎̏斯̵̧̪̞̠̝̯̱̏̑̊̀̈̏́̕с̴̗͙͙̒̈́̂̋́̅̈͝л̸̟̇͛̽̔̎͆̄̕͜о̴̧̡͈̫̬̼̜͌͒͒в̷̹̰̗͉̙͔̪̒͂̇̆͂̈о̸̡͎̪̫̻̟͆̔ͅ ̸͇̙̣͍̯̼̈́̀͆̉̄͘н̴̰̣͎̭͗́̽̽е̶̛̣̪͔̺̩̠̳̞̋̾̈́̔̏̾́ ̷̡̠̥̭͍̟̃̅̈́̀̀͛в̷̪̣̯̥̮͐͌͑͗̚͜с̶̫̋͌е̷̧̡͍͎͎͙̝͓̊̃̾̽͐ ̶͉̲͉̫̦̋͜э̸̗͇̪͉́͐͗н̶͓̠̱͚̦̟͆̂̀̕夫̵̣̉阿̴͍͑̍̓̀斯̴̣̪̆法̶͎͖̮̭͌͋͜斯̶̛̰͇̜̦̟̐̀͗̅͛̇͌夫̸̨̧̡̢̜̆͒̅̓͆阿̶̡̛̙̳͔̘͐́̇́̍斯̵̜̠̆̑̐͊͛͝法̷̡̹̩̲͆́̓͐̌̇͛͠ͅ斯̸̪̠̣̀̑̆͛̃̋͝͝夫̴̢̤̜̦̟̺̖̎̓͝ك̷̣̖̹͖̰̮̻̰̍͊̈ل̴̱̤̘͓̮̭̫̪̿̽͒̈́̔͝م̸̏̄͆̂͂̍͝ͅة̴̡͈̮̜͉̿̅͗̀͊͘͘͘ ̶̪͕͍̘̭͋͛ن̴̱̽ي̴̜͈̆̀̚ ̸͓̩̩͕̙͕̌ͅك̶͓̿ل̴̬̝̜͈̠̑͛͛̕ͅ ̶̹̫͐́̆̿̊أ̶̻͛̐͂́͂̄̽͛و̸̰̩̈́̈̅̕ن̵͎̠͈̮͎̒̏͂̈́̍阿̷̥͝斯̷̢̢̠͍͓̿法̵͇͙̮̻̼̰̇́͛斯̷̫͊̽͐̄̚͝夫̸̘͖͛̊́ ̸͕̜̹͕̞̣̑̀̈́阿̶͕̼̱̜̻̜̏̀͜斯̴̧̤͇̮͚͖̍̅̀̈́法̶̧̹̘̟̺̰̆̽̍̊̀́̓斯̸̧̪̓͂̐̐̄͂͝夫̶̪̠̲̟͓̉̓͛͛͂̒͝

“Master! It’s me, Giovanni! Little Nani! Giovanni Bartolomew Vespucci! The Hidden Son of Venice! The Pox of the Vespucci!”

There is little calming, though seeing how Giovanni is continuously falling, it’s likely the Master hasn’t noticed Giovanni just yet. He’ll have to speak louder. And change his approach.

Ohh, he hates having to resort to this. Though he cannot exactly raise his voice, he tries his best to make his words heard with as much power from within his own core.

“O, Master! Fearsome mystery of the depths!”

Some of the many voices quieted down.

“I tremble in your great presence! I cower from your unfathomable essence! Please, O Great Devil of the Sea, please heed this pathetic excuse of humanity! Grace this scum of the earth with awe in your power. I beg of your mercy to calm the seas! To calm your fury and lower your-”

Before Giovanni would know it, thin tendrils wrap around his ankles and wrists. Larger ones around his limbs. Larger still around his waist. All of the tendrils curl up within the largest branch of the Master’s arm, which curled further and tighter than the deepest trench of the ocean.

"̷W̷H̸A̷T̵ ̵D̷O̴ ̵Y̵O̴U̴ ̴W̴A̶N̸T̸?̴"̶

Giovanni can barely breathe as his golden form bends to the creature’s crushing strength. No air, no teeth, no tongue to speak with. He has to reach deep into his soul, the soul bound to the Devil, sold like a cheap commodity.

“I’ve come to appease you, my Master! Your storm is going to destroy all you have left of your power!”

“̴I̴ ̷A̷M̸ ̴I̵N̶ ̷M̴Y̸ ̷R̷I̷G̷H̴T̵ ̷T̸O̶ ̵D̷E̶S̶T̵R̷O̴Y̵ ̵A̵N̵D̸ ̵D̸E̴V̷O̵U̸R̶ ̷Y̵O̸U̷ ̷A̷L̴L̷.̸”̴

“Then you wouldn’t be able to find your Eye!”

“̶Y̴O̶U̴ ̵H̷A̷V̶E̵ ̴N̵O̸T̴ ̵F̶O̸U̴N̴D̷ ̸M̴Y̶ ̸E̸Y̵E̶.̴”̷

“We will! We will! We’re doing all we can!”

The pressure rises in intensity.

“̷Y̸O̶U̶ ̵H̵A̶V̴E̵ ̴O̷T̷H̵E̴R̵ ̵M̴A̷S̷T̵E̷R̷S̶ ̸B̴E̷F̸O̸R̸E̵ ̶M̴E̸.̵”̶

“Nooo, Master!! Please! Our souls are wholly yours! We are gathering so many for you too! We have done nothing to betray you! You are our God, our Buddha, our Mandate of Heaven! Our beginning and our end! Our very reasons for being! No one fills our lives with joy and fulfillment like you do!”

At last, the bubbles stop rising, and the depths start cooling down. But the Master does not release the mashed gold that is Giovanni just yet.

“̷.̵.̵.̷.̶.̸.̶.̶.̷.̸.̴G̸o̸ ̵o̵n̵.̶”̴

Oh, God. He wants more. Giovanni would take in a breath if he had any functioning lungs to speak of. Having to think of how to butter him up further.

Giovanni thinks deep about his experiences in Venice… before and after the cellar. To what he had to say to get what he wants. To what his brothers had to say. And what was taught to him to be able to get anywhere in life, even if bound within the four walls of Ca’Vespucci.

“You are a power beyond powers, O Master. The sunshine and the moonlight. A force to be reckoned even by angels of Heaven and demons of Hell. Feared by shaytan, awed by yaoguai. The oceans are your voice. The lightning your judgment. There is nothing of the Cosmos you wouldn’t bend to your will. Samsara will not cycle without your hand and influence.”

“̵D̶o̶ ̵y̸o̶u̶ ̷t̷r̶u̶l̸y̷ ̶b̵e̷l̶i̷e̵v̴e̸ ̴t̶h̸a̴t̷,̷ ̷G̴i̶o̷vanni?”

“I have no other choice. To believe otherwise is to fool myself into a reality that cannot be.”

“Truly…” At last, Giovanni can feel his Master grinning as his clutches on his form loosens. By the time the branches thoroughly release the man, he is naught but a warped mass of shapeless gold. If he was human, there wouldn’t be any remains to speak of.

But at least he can sigh in relief. He is hearing one reverberating voice again, twisted by the depths, rather than a cacophony of anguish and rage.

“You are beyond valuable, Giovanni.”

“Am I, Master?”

“A gift in disguise of a curse. Fortune beneath the misery. A shame humanity, and all other life, be it fae or dragonkind, only wish to misuse you for what you can give them. Your potential cannot be fulfilled at its greatest without me. Let no one tell you lies about how they feel about you. I would never discard you like your brothers will. Not for anything in the world.”

“Really, Master?!~”

A smaller arm touches the glob of gold to reshape the man it once was.

“No one will ever love you like I do, my little Nani. You are my precious treasure. The most invaluable in the world and beyond. Mine forever, beloved and cherished. I will never let you go.”

In a flash, Giovanni would find himself back on the surface, within view of La Demonia Roja but not on board. Mayhaps the Master is still not in full enough clarity or strength to return him wholly onboard, dry and safe.

Giovanni wouldn’t have it any other way, to be honest. He wasn’t sure what happened in the depths as he calmed the Master. And who of the two was truly talked down.

[maranzalla]

okay so after reading @sparrow-in-boots 's Cristina Vespucci post, here is my own post

Absolutely agree that the game's current treatment of Cristina is like, 0,001% of what could have been done with her. So here's what happens in the version of the ACII - ACB - ACR that lives in my head

Cristina is definitely Ezio's fiancee. They're engaged and have been engaged since they teens, when Lorenzo de' Medici brokered the alliance between the Auditore and Vespucci families which are, in-game, both Medici-adjacent

This works because we know Lorenzo spent a lot of time fixing marriages between Florentine nobility as a way to foster relations and keep friendly faces in powers. It also works nicely if you believe, like I do after speaking with @robin-in-the-library , that the Auditore were instrumental in ensuring the Medici / Rome connection and that they might have presented Clarice Orsini to Lorenzo in Rome

This also works because know the morning-after guard chase scene having basically 0 consequences beyond Giovanni chuckling works way better if it's just a matter of time before Ezio and Cristina officially tie the knot - sure it's a scandal or whatever, but if the contracts are signed and everything it's basically done

After the treason accusations, of course the Vespucci have to hastily cancel and not even Lorenzo can do or say anything - it just wouldn't do. In fact, it's all the Vespucci can do to avoid the accusation of being damaged goods

So Ezio has to leave Florence with the knowledge that he not only is leaving his beloved behind, he definitely destroyed all her chances of future stability with his connection

So Cristina is off Ezio's radar for years, let's say about until halfway the revenge Pazzi tally

One day you get a mission to kill a mid-level Templar goon and you do. Lo and behold, it's Cristina's husband! Much drama ensues when your once beloved fiancee sees you effectively ruining her life, again, by making her a widow.

This could play off twice : you thought you had ruined her life by disappearing, and you went and did it again by your actions. Much drama, much trauma, memory sequences getting fucked and having to be manually restored.

It's important at this part that her husband's death is not played as a rescue mission but rather as Ezio yet again destroying a loved one's peace of mind with his actions. Like he marred relations with his sister and mother by getting consumed in revenge and leaving them in Monteriggioni for years, he effectively lets the Templar / Assassin war claim what small measure of happiness Cristina had managed to build for herself

(It's important that her husband is not a cartoonishly evil Templar, just someone boring involved in middle-level fraud or something. She definitely has no idea what he actually does, but it's peaceful enough and she's content now)

So Ezio ruins her life, again.

At this point however Cristina must decide to take action herself for once. I would say she finds the legal artifice to gain power over her husband's fortune (he's rich, and it could be done at the time, it was just a hassle) and I really want it to be something that Paola and Teodora are taking care of, on the side. It's a crime that we get characters such as Paola and Teodora and have them do basically nothing for two games and a half-

This way, Cristina could become a financial power in her own right, like Grazia Nasi historically did. And she could act as a financial broker for the Brotherhood, perhaps by helping on the Monteriggionin venture, or by financing Claudia's brothel in Rome when Ezio refuses to.

This allows her to confront Ezio again, on equal footing this time. He's forced to acknowledge that he hurt her in many ways, but he's also forced to acknowledge how she grew and the choices she made (it's not as easy as saving the girl!) They can rekindle the relationship, but it's an on and off thing

(you can have Clay or any of the non-Desmond descendants be the result of this)

They stay friends all their life and Sofia often goes to tea there at Vespucci's to talk books.

Oh and this? This allows Cristina to namedrop her cousin Amerigo, this time only it can be spun as a plotline that actually makes sense. Perhaps she can use him to help the Assassin establish a presence in the early voyages to counter the undoubtedly fucked up shit that the Templars are pulling with the Spaniards

thanks! this was my "Fridging Cristina was stupid and a cop-out" post, hope you enjoyed it!