#⌇the eyes of the ruthless justice ( 𝙂𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙚 | IC )

[distopea]

This is why he can't work efficiently. He's surrounded with brats. A bunch of marmocchio...

[distopea]

Gabriele tapped the wheel of the car, unsure about the next actions to take. Hibiko wasn’t safe wherever she might go, but he couldn’t allow her to stay out of his sight right now, or he would be failing as a bodyguard. The tension he had experienced before was only raising, as much as he understood, it was impossible to simply ask her to wait inside the car. Paranoid, he even started to scan the parking lot, just in case someone was waiting for an opportunity to harm her. 

He shifted in his seat until he eventually met her eyes once more, her concern quite displayed in the back of her irises. “We both know it’s not a good idea then, if I go there and I lose patience. We don’t have time to play games.” And by games, he meant to fulfill her eternal desire to toy with his nerves. He had one duty after all, and it was nothing else but her safety. Sometimes, alas, he had barely no choice but to deny her; her need for freedom and frivolity clashing with the world she was evolving in. 

“I know who hired me, ma’am.” He answered her question, definitely aware why she wanted to test his loyalty right now. He looked aside, breaking eye contact through the front mirror to instead plunge his dark brown eyes inside hers. “I know who I need to protect.” He said with the same cold tone, even if it was lacking its usual neutrality. He sighed, as he understood now that he didn’t have much of a choice. If she wanted her nails to be done, then she would have to escort him; or the other way around. 

“Under your seat there’s a sports bag. There are a few spare clothes for you, even a cap. If you step out of the car, you have to cover your head. I only give us a maximum of 15 minutes.” He glanced at her again, severely. He only needed her approbation now, while his hand was resting on the handle of the door.  

“Yes,” firm and sharp, just short of cutting off the question too early. She made her desire clear and wasn’t going to be pushed on it. Gabriele luckily seemed to take the hint and moved to change the topic. Eyes flickered to his reflection, her mind taking an extra moment to relax its unnecessary defenses.

A smile ever so delicately tugged its way to her lips, not believing the words, but appreciating them nonetheless. “Well, that’s why you’re going to call me when inside. And because it’s a safe bet so far out of town that you’ll put the one employee that speaks vague English will be put so far on edge by your presence that they also likely won’t be much help.” Jealous she wouldn’t be able to see him struggle, the thought of it tempting her imagination to join Gabriele inside once more.

Hibiko wasn’t terribly overdressed once she gave it some thought, she just came from multiple long flights after all. Although the fear of blending was only an easy excuse. Going in with him would be easiest for everyone, get in and out just like that, but the what-ifs were stunning her from jumping at the excuse. What if someone recognized her, and there was a festering anger about her parents that was instead taken out on her. Was that honestly what she wanted to be the first story about her returning home to be about? Or if she stayed in the car, Gabriele was only a phone call away, but then what? What if he was too far away to reach her in time, she didn’t know how to drive.

It was a deceptively easy question that she gave up on. The Queen looked at him with tired eyes, not caring what the answer was anymore, just didn’t want to keep thinking about all the ways she be hurt. She didn’t want to be here anymore. “What do you think is best?”

A momentary but uncomfortable silence, suddenly unsure if she would trust his answer, if he understood, or thought she was just riddled with baseless anxiety. Leaning forward, Hibiko was close to the back of the chair in front of her. It was the closest she could get to him right now, to anyone. She needed advice and comfort, but to get that, first ensure they were on the same page. “You know why you were hired, right Gabriele?” From who? Quiet, like there was an audience of people watching to see what they would do and she didn’t want them to hear her.

[distopea]

Days are back to being warm.

That's when Gabriele starts to scratch my little head, because I have been sleeping for too long...

[distopea]

@cantuscorvi Oh he gets it. He's just hole to you, huh. 😒

"A very stupid one, it seems. What are you expecting from your guard dog anyway?"

[distopea]

@nezumivc103221 MARRIAGE? He’ll rather stay dead, he won’t take the hand of a man who realised what he lost and changed his mind. Leave the ring on the tombstone.

See? No need to prove his point. This is marital kindship gfsuygf

[distopea]

“Tsk. Let me see that.”

The words were quick and terse as his hand darted out to take hold of Gabriele’s. Tiny shards of glass were embedded in the bodyguard’s knuckles, thin as papercuts. For some time now, he’d been watching Gabriele out of the corner of his eye, struggling to pluck them out with his left hand.

“Hold still.” Raum snatched the tweezers from him as well with a huff, then started to pluck the glass out from his hand. There were only a few left, hard to reach without help, and Raum would rather not have to sit next to Gabriele cursing to himself in Italian all evening.

He focused on his task and allowed his mind to wander back to how it had occurred. Uncontrolled, a little quirk of amusement slowly appeared upon his lips.

“You have a nasty right hook, Vasco,” he spoke after a moment of quiet, continuing to pluck. “He never saw it coming — not until you’d already smashed his glasses. The look on his face. . .”

A low hum of a laugh escaped him then, before he set the tweezers aside. He brought the older man’s hand closer to his eyeline, checking for leftovers. Little drops of blood were forming between Gabriele’s knuckles where the glass was removed. Raum watched it happen— struck for a moment at what exactly Gabriele’s role was to him.

Slowly he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Gabriele’s knuckles. Blue eyes flicked up to capture his face, a signal.

He wouldn’t say ‘thank you’ — the protection Gabriele offered belonged to him.

Lips parted slightly, and the tip of his tongue peeked out to lap at Gabriele’s blood.

This blood was also his. Spilled instead of his own.

So, this was the kind of dog he would have on his leash — the one who would hang on his every command in the future. Raum met Gabriele’s eyes and grinned slightly, his nose crinkling into a sneer. He couldn’t wait.

@cantuscorvi

He didn’t need help. 

Even if he had been toying his hand for the past thirty minutes, Gabriele was religiously focused on his task and wouldn’t formulate any request to get help. It was a question of honor, self-respect, and probably a generous amount of misplaced ego. He was still driving through that wave of anger, the very one that had pushed him into attacking that man and smashing his glasses, along with half of his nose in the process. He had created a mess; his inner passion and rough rage pushed to their limits thanks to that minx who was sitting next to him. 

“No,” Gabriele growled as he heard Raum eventually offer his help, probably exceeded by his curses and lack of success regarding the extraction of those small pieces of glass. That was the only reason why his princely ass would actually do something to ease his pain. He wanted peace. 

The bodyguard hadn’t been quick enough. While he was moving his fingers under the light of the ceiling to catch a glimpse of small shredded glass stuck deep inside his skin, Raum had snatched away his precious tool, gripping the tweezers with that everlasting satisfied look plastered on his young features. A content cat who was winning the game. Gabriele longly sighed. 

“I said I could do it myself.” He mumbled again but didn’t resist much when Raum grabbed his hand. A part of him was quite satisfied to get pampered, his blood boiling within his veins, as truly, he had no patience anymore to deal with that shit. “Use the antiseptic... Mamma mia! No! Not like that! Fa male!” He snapped, and while he didn’t enjoy Raum’s methods at first, the sudden sharpness coming from the extracted piece of glass was quite painful when he wasn’t the one holding the tweezers. 

He stared back at his protegee, a frown crossing his tan skin, ready to curse again if Raum wasn’t being so careful. But once more, eyeing Raum in that state of half satisfaction and half happiness was a vision Gabriele profoundly liked. It was intimately soothing everything within him; as he knew, he was witnessing something rare. Someone he had provoked. He liked it. He liked it far more than he could ever admit. He sighed again, preparing himself for the discomfort of those ridiculously small injuries when Raum aimed again for his palm. 

“For a four-eyed man, he truly hasn’t seen it coming.” Gabriele answered, the corner of his lips curling into a vicious and petty smile. It was true that he had a nasty right punch, and despite the current pain, he was proud of himself for that perfect delivery. But perhaps he was thriving because Raum seemed to enjoy it as well. 

The bodyguard’s eyes darkened, while eventually the tweezers were put aside, and his hand scanned under the cold blue retina of the blond. He could almost feel his breath skimming his epidermis, provoking a few goosebumps here and there, but mostly onto Gabriele’s forearm. It was potentially more painful than before, as he imagined many scenarios all at once, burning his iris with forbidden fantasies. That kid… Always playing with fire. Always provoking what shouldn’t be. 

“Raum…” Gabriele warned, when, like the petty boy he was, he couldn’t help but push the game further, his tongue darting out to taste the forbidden bloody nectar of his skin. It was Gabriele’s role to remain responsible and focused, trying to push out of his mind those desires where that little attitude would only result in a pair of pants pushed down his legs and his pristine skin blushing under a different kind of fire. 

It pissed him off. 

Those eyes locked on him. That smile. 

If they were equals, it would be so different. 

“Stop that.” Gabriele snapped his fingers away, shaking his fingers as if he had been stung back something unwanted. He coldly looked at Raum, even if his mind was burning with an awful passion that was almost impossible to refrain from. He eventually grabbed the bottle of antiseptic onto the table and poured the entire liquid over his wounds.

It hurt like a bitch. But it was a salvation.

“Mamma mia, non posso credere che tu pulisca ferite del genere.” Gabriele pushed his hair back onto his skull and stood back up, taking this perfect opportunity to fly away before the situation might escalate into something where he knew there wouldn’t be any kind of control coming from his side.

[distopea]

"Mmmh... No. Not good." He said with his heavy Italian accent, while he stood behind the person they have asked for a photo in front of this gorgeous landscape. He couldn't help it; he didn't like bad photographies. "You're not catching the light the right way... Let me..."

He grabbed the phone and eyed his model, waiting for them to pose properly.

[distopea]

I'm trying to get to things but I have this policeman in my head these days.

[distopea]

Despite his best efforts not to stare at Raum, Gabriele couldn’t help but observe him. He knew that the prodigal son had been far from home for a long time, and he wondered, secretly, why and how much he despised the place. He was fitting this whole mansion; from the elegance of the furniture to the luxury of his clothes, and his haughty attitude. The way he was moving was matching how Friedrich used to be, even if, clearly, Gabriele perceived a profound difference between these two. 

“Yes, he did. He said that you wouldn't have prepared anything, so he made sure you would be ready. He truly insisted on you having it.” Gabriele answered when Raum asked him if Cyrus was the one who had given him that letter. He had never liked the man as well, but the reaction of his nephew was strangely more concerning than he had expected. He felt the hesitation in his voice and his sudden coldness towards the name pronounced. He didn’t exactly know what was going on in Raum’s head. Perhaps it was only a bit of distrust, but surely Gabriele shouldn’t be the one analyzing everything like that. 

Fortunately for him, his concern was soon eclipsed by his other request and the fact that, during those two hours, his new protégé would require his help. He had anticipated a pure refusal on his side, but surprisingly enough, Raum accepted and led him to his room. For a second, Gabriele felt out of his place. It wasn’t the first time he had assisted a man with dressing for a special occasion, but there was a hidden tongue in everything they were sharing. He had the sensation of going through a real interview process for the first time, enlightened by this more than intimate atmosphere. 

“My intentions, Sir?” Gabriele asked, his brown eyes observing the shape of Raum’s back while he was tossing his jacket away. So, this was truly an interview process. He stiffened and remained standing in the middle of the room, barely daring to move or to even breathe. He continued to listen, as he was aware that each one of his words was going through a thorough analysis. He cleared his throat, his irises yet still appealed to the vision of Raum’s shape and his more than defined silhouette. He was truly a handsome boy. 

“Sir…” Gabriele started, his eyes for a moment lingering on Raum’s waist before he went back to his usual cold and overly serious self. “I have been bonded by your father to a contract that I intend to honor.” He knew that it wouldn’t be enough, he looked aside for a moment. “I guess he might have sealed that contract away from you so you wouldn’t do anything about it but I don’t mind speaking the truth.” Another pause, Gabriele observed the clothes waiting on the frame of the bed. “Your father saved my life. In his own way. I’m in debt to him, and this is something he has decided to bequeath to you.” 

“You might not know me yet, but I’m a loyal person.” He eventually continued, before he stepped forward and grabbed the tie Raum had chosen, to eventually switch it to another model; more sober, but with a lovely golden piping matching the suit. “So far, it’s true, I have no reason to show loyalty or to even be sympathetic to you… Yet, I have made a promise. Today, my choice is either breathing fresh air every day and keeping an eye on you, or simply breaking that contract for good and finishing my days in prison.” He moved backward to give Raum enough space. Gabriele was determined.

 “If you don’t believe in my loyalty, I understand. But you can trust my will of freedom instead. I know that is something you can understand as well.”  

Raum’s deceptive smile fell away as soon as they stepped into the foyer. A quick look around proved that little had changed in his absence; the same marble flooring, cream and dark wood interiors, display cabinets, candelabras, and the elaborate Persian rug laid out like a welcome mat. He kept walking, still aware of Vasco’s presence, at first behind him and then at his side.

The man was quick on the uptake at least, adaptable to Raum’s pace without awkwardness and his mind firmly on the schedule. It meant he was able to do the bare minimum Raum would expect of him — that is, if Raum found him palatable enough to keep around.

There was a large carpeted staircase in the center of the room, and he made his way toward it. He paused once they reached the top of the stairs. Regardless of how long it had been, he could still remember the location of his old rooms on the second floor of the east wing. Raum hummed when Gabriele spoke up, glancing briefly at his profile.

“Mm. Two hours is enough.” Blue eyes tracked the bodyguard’s hand when he reached into his pocket to produce the paper. “Cyrus gave it to you?” He asked, frowning while he took it from Gabriele’s hand.

“Does he…” A maid walked past and he trailed off, peering at her over Gabriele’s shoulder. Does he know I’m here already? Is what he wanted to know, although he didn’t dare to ask such a question, at least not yet — aware of how it would seem when there were other ears around.

He didn’t look at the contents of the paper yet, instead just put it away for when he would be ready.

“Do you need assistance with the… outfit?” Vasco asked, and Raum met his eyes briefly, sensing an opportunity.

“Yes,” he lied. “It’s been a while since I was here last. You can help me choose something appropriate.” Raum gestured with a quick tilt of his head in the direction of his rooms. “This way.”

He was quiet for the rest of the way, which was not far — only a quick trip down the corridor. Once they were inside, Raum twisted the handle to lock the door. They were alone, for now.

The room was large and bright without a speck of dust in sight, and the bed was made neatly. Clearly prepared for his arrival, yet starkly impersonal, the rest of the long unused furniture was still covered in white cotton tarp. They weren’t expecting him to stay for long.

Raum slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the bed. He walked to the large wardrobe and pulled open the doors, quickly shifting through the hangers. With his back facing Vasco, Raum spoke decisively.

“If this is going to work, I need to know your intentions, Vasco.” He pulled out a couple of hangers — a black three-piece suit — and measured it against himself in front of the mirror. “What is it that you want?”

Satisfied, Raum set aside the clothes and unwound his tie.

“To be clear — I realise you’re not here by choice. So I don’t expect you to honestly give a shit about me. But as long as you keep insisting on being my security… I do expect you to do your job. And what I say.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other man while he started to unbutton his shirt.

“I don’t presume your loyalty, either.” Raum scoffed, and shook his head. He peeled off his shirt and started on his belt. The dark tattoo across the back of his shoulders shifted when he moved.

“But… This could be mutually beneficial, if you are.”

[distopea]

He sighed. For a man of his age, it was quite ridiculous to think about her like this.

/ @royaletiquette

[distopea]

Gabriele -

I hate that I sometimes see your face when I close my eyes. You've become such a comfortable necessity in my home. The help you provide is different than everyone else's. I don't know how I feel so free of judgment when we talk, like you truly understand me. How much from a third party do you know of me? How terrible I am to go after your body so often as if your mind is nothing. But I feel like I'm someone else in your bed. I don't have to be me and it's so uniquely freeing to be anyone else for that time. Are you fucking me out of pitty. Do you imagine I'm someone specific? I always forget the difference in your hands having more calluses than his. Your body feels indescribable when I get to see it in full. There are some days I wish I could watch you shower. Lay in front of a fireplace and gawk at you like a painting. Run my fingers over the finer details. I want to make your body sweat. See your eyes desperate as you whisper my name in that soothing voice of yours.

[The disorganized note is left unsigned. Shoved between pages of a book - it was not meant to be delivered.]

@royaletiquette

“Che palle…” 

Where the heck was that document?! He had tried to figure out what Rhodri meant when he demanded Gabriele to quickly find a note he had left inside his office, disappearing inside another room before he could have asked any questions. He wasn’t sure about the location, but it was crucial for his next meeting. Gabriele had no idea of what he wanted exactly, and he felt his blood rushing through his veins. For fuck’s sake… He was a bodyguard, not a damn secretary! 

After a moment, and while he couldn’t find anything matching his research on Rhodri’s desk, Gabriele started to look around and in strange places. He looked around the fireplace, scanned every drawer, until he put his attention onto the large shelves of the library. If there was something hidden somewhere, it could be there after all… He patted the top of the books, then, out of frustration, he started to pick them out and searched directly inside. He skimmed through the pages as fast as he could until one piece of paper eventually fell from one of the publications. 

“About time…” Gabriele growled while he bent down to pick up a quite small piece of information, his brown eyes scanning the document the moment he straightened himself back up. It was poorly written, but he couldn’t recognize Rhodri’s handwriting either. Gabriele frowned when he eventually noticed that his name was plastered at the top of the note. “Che diavolo è quello?” He murmured in Italian, while he started to read. 

It was Hibiko's writing… 

What the fuck?

Gabriele understood that he had found a little secret of his mistress that he shouldn’t have in the first place. He completely forgot the fact that he was in a rush, and that her husband was probably running out of patience. He read it once, twice, amused by the energy he sensed through her harsh and rushed writing, her emotions leaking out of the document and the words she had used. She was probably pissed off when she had put all those thoughts down, taking an even bigger risk by hiding them inside her husband’s office instead of burning it. 

“What a fussy gato…” Gabriele chuckled, his thumb skimming a few words. Was he fucking her out of pity? His attention remained on the crossed line. At first, he thought it was the case, but in the end, he also liked who she was very much. It was a truth he couldn’t reveal, because it meant that he was putting her whole life in danger. He couldn’t let feelings bloom out of their forbidden passion and he perfectly knew that. Hibiko was just bored, and he was just weak. 

“Vasco!” He heard Rhodri stomping in the direction of his office. Gabriele quickly shoved the note back where he had found it and placed the book back onto its shelf, her secret forever protected. If he would talk to her about the danger of keeping that note around, well, he would have to figure it out later. He rushed back to Rhodri’s desk, pretending he was still scanning the drawers. “Nothing?” Rhodri asked impatiently while he opened the door. Gabriele shook his head. 

“No, nothing Sir.” He wasn’t bothered by his lack of success anymore; while he looked at Rhodri, he knew that tonight he would probably go fuck his wife behind his back. “Ah, forget it. We have to move downtown. Prepare the car, and wait for me outside.” Gabriele nodded, and walked out of the room, following Rhodri’s steps. 

He wondered if Hibiko would like to come from his tongue while fucking her in the shower. 

[distopea]

🎶 from a like here

"I need a distraction," Nezumi knelt by the stereo and began pawing at the various CDs lined up on a shelf next to it. His hands were shaking subtly. "I've read somewhere that keeping your mind occupied after experiencing trau—." His voice cracked and faded. He bowed his head, muttering under his breath: "I won't break. I won't break," in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

Finally, he chose a CD. Apocalyptica, 1998. He huffed a chuckle through his nose and shrugged. "And why not."

The CD went in, and Nezumi skipped a few songs forward, landing on the fourth. He licked his lips and wiped his hands into his pants as he stood up and turned to Gabriele.

"Humour me, will you?" Nezumi stepped forward and placed a palm on Gabriele's shoulder; the other hand went to slide into Gabriele's if he would let him. "I'll let you lead and all. Just one song." He stared into Gabriele's face, his eyes, the line of his lips, and searched for a sign of agreement; he hoped for it—for anything that could spin his head away from what they had been through.

@nezumivc103221

Dark eyes observed Nezumi’s back while he was shuffling through the various records displayed on the floor. There was probably nothing modern in this pile of disks, but perhaps enough to be pleasing to the ears. Gabriele didn’t say much; Nezumi said it all when he talked about finding distraction. He couldn’t blame him for finding a way out; he had been there so many times before that he didn’t know anymore if he was living in an everlasting distraction himself. It was hard to tell what was real from what had happened. Sometimes, moments of his past life were as blurry as the future ahead of him. 

“Suit yourself,” Gabriele invited, while he grabbed his cup of coffee and sniffed the beverage with hesitation. Even the color was uninviting; barely brownish on the edge and probably even more bitter now that it was cold. He sighed and abandoned the idea to finish it, looking back at Nezumi putting on the CD he had picked. He skipped a few songs, and eventually landed on one he found probably more suitable for the mood. 

He didn’t recognize the notes of Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, but he was driven by the softness of the cello and first notes echoing from the old radio station. He didn’t say much when Nezumi extended his fingers, his expression matching the intentions of the violins. An invitation to dance. Gabriele felt twenty years younger, all of a sudden. He swallowed his spite, his expression perhaps as frozen as his beverage, but still he took a step forward. “Humoring you? I think you don’t understand who’s going to be the one mocked here. I’m a very poor dancer.” 

But he wasn’t that much. It was simply a part of his existence that felt unexisting these days; hidden in the many lies and many distractions he had gone through. He grabbed Nezumi’s hand, just when the couplet started. “One song.” He said with his heavy accent and brought him against his chest, but still, stiffened as he didn’t allow him too close. It wasn’t a gesture against Nezumi, but simply a way to always leave a distance. He started to slowly dance, his dark eyes observing the faded colors and the stains against the walls. It was such a miserable place for a genuine dance, but still, Gabriele spun and didn’t move away. 

It was easy… Easy to get lost in the colored hills of Sicily that were forever printed in his retina instead of his awful place. It was easy to remember the scents of the Sunday market, and the burning sun against his face while he was strolling with his brothers of heart; the ones he would betray in a few years. He could picture the two old men arguing over the newspapers, some kids chasing a round and half flattened ball, trying to reproduce football moves they had seen on the TV screen last night. Did the AC Milan win again? Gabriele slid his fingers against Nezumi’s shoulder and placed it against the birth of his nape, his thumb mapping the curve of his spine.

He knew he liked to be held here…  

He closed his eyes for a second and forced himself to remember the miserable colors of the walls of their shelter, the smell of dust surrounding them and the bitterness of this cheap coffee. Because he knew exactly what was the journey of his brain right now, and he couldn’t live in memories either. He had made a choice, he had accepted the consequences. He couldn’t feel sorry for himself because he missed his homeland. He looked aside to observe Gino, just to be sure that he was alright and content, despite the poor motions of his body and his lack of closeness in the way he was leading the dance. 

Oh. 

Gino.

The sudden realization made him miss one step and he accidentally landed on Nezumi’s foot. “Fanculo!” Gabriele cursed, and he broke the contact with him, using this moment to refuse digging more into more dangerous distraction. He made sure to replace his tie properly, a deep sigh leaving his throat, his expression back to his usual composed and marble self.

“Alright.” He turned around, quite dismissing if Nezumi could ever feel bothered or hurt. He was acting out of line, and he should get a grip on himself. The policeman walked back to the table and grabbed his mug of coffee, throwing it all inside the sink. “I’ll make more coffee. This one is cold.” 

[distopea]

32, as a 'no'. Koko+Gabe

@royaletiquette

Kiss meme 💋

“I think that you have had enough,” Gabriele said gently, while he helped Hibiko stand on her two feet. She had felt a little bit under the weather for a few days, and with the party tonight, even two glasses of champagne were enough to turn her into a tipsy mess. Well, nothing too visible either, but it could lead to a potentially disastrous situation. And surely, he didn’t wish the Queen to ever ridicule herself when her eyes kept judging her behavior; he knew that she wouldn’t like it, and she was attached to her reputation and the image she was showing to others. It was all about etiquette. 

“Please.” Gabriele was firm when he grabbed her drink, but discreet enough so people wouldn’t notice the little game between these two. She was cute when she was in that state of childish happiness, perhaps slightly more smiling than usual. She had her charm, but he didn’t wish to indulge her so easily, even when she tried to grip her beverage back with that wicked stare of hers. “No. Hibiko, you’re going to be sick.” Even if perhaps it wasn’t the case, maybe she would have been if no one paid attention to her. Her husband didn’t seem to really care, occupied with his affairs and far from his wife.

Another petty fight to reclaim her drink, and despite his best efforts, the champagne he had been holding was splashed against her dress. He tutted and sighed, giving a glance at the audience. There were some whispers, but he couldn’t tell if it was about her. He preferred to lead her away, hidden behind a large velvet curtain, just in case things might get more awkward. “Seriously… I’m not trying to spoil your fun, but I care about your integrity.” And to that, of course, she had a thousand teasing things to say and a plea regarding the necessity to find another bottle before the end of the party. After all, he had ruined her dress in that fight. 

“I’m sorry, but I think I won’t take part in that quest.” He whispered to avoid bringing attention to them, the veil barely covering their bodies from curious eyes. She tapped his chest, still trying to order him around, but Gabriele was quick to grasp her hand, softly holding her fingers.

“No.” He said once more, and somehow mesmerized and touched by the deep softness and despair gleaming in the back of her eyes, he eventually brought her digits to his mouth and kissed them gently. 

[distopea]

A Night in Sicily

PS notes: dialogues are in English, but they all chat in Italian ✌️

“No, no, no! Matheo! God dammit how many times have I told you? Fuck you, why did we miss that this idiot had the petit in his sleeve from the first minute!” 

“Oh here we go again… Shut up, Tomaso, you were never good at playing the French Tarot anyway…” 

“You fucking should have played it earlier! Dammit! That’s basically cheating!” 

“What? Hey, who do you call a cheater? Learn to count the trumps! I won, so suck it off! You should have seen it coming the moment I called for the Heart King!” 

Another lively night in Palermo, the distant fading sound of the cicadas still invading the living room. They were all around the same large wooden table, sharing a meal before their departure the next morning. Alba, the matrone and mother of Mario, the head of the local Albertini mafia, was spying from the kitchen, a frown on her features. She was surely too old to be there, standing while they were all sitting, but there was no discussion possible. Whenever Alba would demand their presence around the table, there was no man strong enough in Palermo to refuse her invitation. And no one bold enough to ever forbid her from cooking for them. 

Her wrinkled features came out of the kitchen with two large plates of tiramisu ready to be served, and suddenly, there was a general whimper escaping everyone’s throat, Gabriele’s included. Well, he almost forgot that Gabriele was his real name here; he had been called Lorenzo for years now (his alias for the mission), sitting among them, and sharing the same food. Everything felt a bit blurry for a couple of months now. “No, mama, no!” Mario shook his head and massaged his eyelids, quickly followed by Tomaso and Matheo, who were not interested in their game cards anymore and patted their bellies with nothing but pain written on their features. “We’re stuffed, how do you want us to fit in our suits tomorrow if you keep feeding us like this… I need to see my abs, mama!” 

“No slander under my roof!” Alba answered in her usual rolling accent from the South of Sicily, as she tapped Gabriele’s shoulder and offered her famous manipulative smile; the one who let him know that he wouldn’t be able to bargain. “See how my good boy Lorenzo is treating me. He never says no to me!” There was another general huff, and Mario this time only chuckled. “Always using Lorenzo as your scapegoat whenever you need someone to be kind to you. That poor boy can’t say no, that’s a part of his job!” 

She slammed a generous amount of tiramisu inside of Gabriele’s plate, the young man, barely at the end of his twenties, quite cornered right now. He was her best excuse. She almost shoveled a spoon between his fingers, and she eventually tousled his hair with a profound tenderness. “He’s more educated than any of you! He’s like a grandson to me… A good-mannered boy, who never lets down his mama. I’m proud of him!” There were more protests around them, but the atmosphere was nothing but genuine. A family reunion with people who could trust and respect each other. 

A family… 

A grandson… 

She had never said that before, at least, not out loud. He had always felt it; despite her rude and brutal manners, Alba was nothing but welcoming and soft. Like with her current grandsons, Matheo and Tomaso, she was openly showing affection towards Gabriele. He was a member of this family, and despite his profound need to fight this truth, he knew that he was sinking into this dangerous sea. As they kept arguing against the forced dessert of their grandma, Gabriele looked up, shudders traveling through his entire body. 

Who was he? 

He had vowed to protect citizens from people like Mario, Matheo or Tomaso. He had abandoned his true identity to sneak into the wolf’s den, so certain that none of them could ever be humans. Monsters, assassins, deviants… And yet, he was just like them. They were playing cards in the evening, talking about girls, art, their dreams and fears they might share… They could laugh until tears would bloom at the corners of their eyes, and they could fight like brothers for the slightest thing. He was hugged by Mario whenever he was doing a good job, he was poked by Tomaso all the time, and he would spend his Friday evening fixing Matheo’s bike with a cold beer. He always felt the urge to defend those he mistakenly considered as his brothers, his heart and soul torn apart by his identity fading and changing over the years, the name of Gabriele sometimes surfacing through one phone call or one secret meeting to share the intel he had gathered. 

Who was he? 

There was no monster in front of him, but humans, with a different vision of life, with different codes and manners, but surely a heart and emotions. Because, in the end, who was wrong? Who was the most monstrous among all the protagonists of this story? Were they truly to blame when the police had failed so many times to protect people? Wasn’t he such a fraud, sitting there and sharing their loving atmosphere, as if his intentions and mission weren’t to destroy them? No, no… He had to believe in their cause. He had to believe in his vows. He had seen the blood, he had seen violence and self-justice. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn”t right. 

Was he… wrong about this too? 

“Fratello…” Tomaso shook his arm, and Gabriele understood he had been the head in the clouds for too long. “Care to show Matheo how you play well?” 

“Ugh, we never know what’s in Lorenzo’s head, that’s a bad idea. He’ll beat us if he ever gets to call the King first.” 

“Oh come on, when he plays you whimper and when he doesn’t, you beg for his help… Come on Lorenzo, let’s show him!” 

"Alright, but both of you will clean my bike if you lose, so you better get your sponges and soap ready."

His heart was in the depths of his stomach, his emotions shattered. Yet, he nodded and decided to live this lie for a bit longer. He gripped the card and clipped a brand new cigarette at the corner of his lips, mask on, as he was indeed playing the game so well. He was not a monster… He was not a monster…

He was not… 

A MONSTER. 

[distopea]

She was running down the corridor, happy and excited, her cheeks slightly red, her heels tapping on the wooden floors. Nunnally stopped abruptly in front of the large office door. She smiled to the bodyguards standing outside, greeted them briefly, and ignoring their attempts to say something, the girl entered the room. Her smile dropping upon the entrance.

Nunnally expected to see her father inside his study, but instead she was standing face-to-face with an unknown man. Was that what the bodyguards were trying to tell her? But it was too late, and she was too polite to simply turn away and leave. She stood there, almost frozen, looking at a stranger for a few brief moments. In her white, lace dress, she resembled more of a fairy than a real human. Especially given the height difference between her and the guest.

But then she smiled to the man reaching her hand out to him.

“I sincerely apologize for my intrusion. I am Nunnally and you are probably here to meet with my father. I have forgotten he was supposed to have a meeting today. But something must have stopped him and he’s late.” – she explained herself in a voice that clearly suggesting it was a common occurrence.

“Could I offer you something to drink before he arrives? We could spend some time chatting and waiting together…unless…” – she let a small laugh out – “…unless you are this kind of person that would rather avoid talking with me. My father brings all various kind of guests here.” – she titled her head indicating that she’d rather stay. Or rather that it would be difficult to send her away.

@lured-into-wonderland

From the footsteps he could hear coming from the corridor, he was definitely aware that he wouldn’t meet the man he was supposed to encounter in the first place. The pace and heaviness of those steps was too light to be an adult, along with the light scolding he could overhear from the guards in front of the door. He wondered if a child was wandering in a place they weren’t supposed to visit, and the minute the door was opened, his theory proved to be quite right. In front of him wasn’t standing the individual he had chatted a few times with over the phone, but a young lady, who seemed to be busted like a deer in front of a car. 

Perhaps to disarm any discomfort on her side - after all, he was coming here as a friend of the family - he stood back up and waved his fingers. She was already apologizing and he could perceive her awkwardness from across the room. “No need to apologize, miss, I was just expecting your father to come quicker. I heard that he was finishing another meeting before coming.” He answered, only perhaps to explain his presence here and why he was waiting in the office with no one to entertain him. 

To be honest, he didn’t feel much comfortable either. He had started to get closer from Nunnally’s family for the sake of his investigation and the fact they might have precious intel on their side. Other than that, he didn’t really know how to behave with politicians. The simple fact that he had no other leverage was showing how much no one among the police was trusting him as well. “Nunnally… How old are you?” He asked while he didn’t want to brush her off. She was still young and he still wanted to give a polite impression. 

“You seem too young to understand your father’s profession fully but quite too old to sneak into his office without permission.” He offered a quick and polite smile before he bit his tongue to stop sounding so rude. Guess he had to entertain a teenager for a little while. 

[distopea]

The overly pushed politeness of this moment was lingering more than he expected, along with the deep awkwardness of talking to someone so insecure. He didn’t really know how to behave anymore, if not to fish out a little information regarding the coming and going around this place. He noticed that this young girl was willing to talk - well, she was more talking to herself and eager to listen to her own statement rather than anything else - but it was still a way for him to get what he needed to understand the position of his father. A sort of pre-investigation before having a chat and determining if he was indeed someone he could trust or deal with in the future. 

“Everyone needs guidance from time to time. It’s not a bad perspective, even for someone who’s not young. I don’t believe my presence here should alarm you in any way possible.” He answered to her sudden paranoid sentence, as if, in any way, she should suddenly feel threatened by words. God, she was so quick to jump on every crumb, as if she would be able to understand the full picture and grasp what kind of danger her father might be expecting. Truly, he was glad that she wasn’t too much involved in business talks. She clearly lacked the capacity to handle things with a mature approach. 

He looked away, as she was losing track of her own words and somehow having her head in the clouds while she continued her long introspection. He didn’t wish to make assumptions here, but for a man like Gabriele, everything she was doing was odd and definitely disturbing. She was like a sort of fairy dragged out of another world, the radiant picture of something that belonged in a cabinet of curiosity rather than a place like this. Everything felt superficial in a very strange way, but perhaps he was only biased by his own judgment, and quite heartless and insensitive when it came to innocence in a general way. After all, she was perhaps right to question his intentions. 

Nevertheless, she didn’t really say much regarding what he was trying to discover. No name, nothing but a politician who had his doors open for anyone in need of a talk. To the vision of a dramatic girl planted in front of a window, like a puppy who couldn’t play with the big dogs, he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. He turned around so she wouldn’t bust it, her everlasting monologue finishing with almost a theatrical tone. Surely she was a lonely creature and he couldn’t miss it; she would even try to guilt a new guest about it, joking in such an awkward way that he frowned for a second. Maybe she needed to find friends of her age. It was an urgent need, he believed. “I see.” 

Be polite, he thought, she’s a child. She believed she wasn’t a naive little girl, but what he had in front of his eyes could only prove the contrary. Only a child would go into such open measures and statements regarding their emotions without understanding the etiquette and boundaries they should have, or the fact that Gabriele, at this particular moment, wouldn’t reassure her regarding her insecurities. 

“I guess the society and parties hosted by a politician might attract a variety of people you may find strange.” He paused, gazed at the door; still nothing. He felt too impatient now. He lifted his sleeve up and observed his watch. “I’m sorry that I scare you though, I don't still understand fully why, but that was not my intention. I believe that your father will have a hard time making himself available, so I won’t abuse your time either.” He offered a polite smile, and grabbed his coat. “I guess I will come back another time.”

/ @lured-into-wonderland

“Well then, I once again apologize for choosing a topic that made you uncomfortable.” – she remained where she was standing: by the window. Nunnally was also uncomfortable by then. For some reason this man was nervous. Suspiciously nervous. Wary. And…untrusting? She was not sure why. She usually did not have such an effect on people. And it only started to increase her anxiety about him and his visit. Or rather what it meant for her family. Too many things were not normal with that man, and it seemed there were more answers than questions. It did not make things easier that Nunnally knew she should not be there. Talking with him.  Gabriele’s next words brought her back from deep inside her thoughts. She abruptly turned around to look at him, but did not move towards him. The man seemed to prefer she was not close.

“Guide him in the right direction…” – she repeated clearly frightened – “W-hy…why would my father need any guidance at all…?” – the last words were not meant for Gabriele. It was clear the girl forgot he was in the same room and was talking more to herself. She hated his words.

(“He knows what he is doing...”) – she was not sure so sure about it; or perhaps she was he knew, but she still did not want him to do it.  She did not want to be kept in the darkness treated as a child… ("So, why no-one…") -- “…is telling me anything…?” – she finished her trail of thoughts aloud only then realizing she was talking to herself.

“I am sorry.” – she repeated; how many times had she already apologized since she met this man – “I…I think…” – Nunnally was about to say that she should be leaving, when Gabriele suddenly involved himself in their conversation. Why? Up till now he was mainly answering her questions. Well, not exactly answering, but rather dodging them. And now a question. It took Nunnally a longer while to decide on the reply. She probably should have followed his way of conversation and avoid replying to it, but she was firstly too surprised with the sudden change of events, and perhaps also too scared with her own thoughts and feelings. Nevertheless, she replied. And replied truthfully showing Gabriele more of herself than she ever intended. Nunnally was good at small talks, at social conversations that meant nothing and were just to maintain the nice atmosphere. But apart from that Nunnally was lonely. With her mother passing away when she was a little girl, and her father mainly being busy with his professional life, Nunnally was brought up alone by maids and private tutors.

“Actually I don’t. I hardly ever talk to anyone who visits…my father…he does not like it. He’d be pretty disappointed in me…” – again more than she wanted to say – “Well, so you are the one that is lucky…or unlucky to meet me…depending how you see it.” – she tried to joke but then she sighed – “But I often watch through the window and I see people coming in and out. And you can learn surprisingly much about people from just watching…especially when you later meet some of them on parties…or other social events… I am aware…I am aware that most of people, probably you included, think that I am a naïve little girl…” – (“And perhaps I am…”) – “…but I know things…I notice things…”

A pause.

“And you are different. And that scares me. Somehow.”

(“And you do not want to say who you are.”)

@distopea