#cassiopeia cassano

[vampiresuns]

Anatole’s Apprentice Prologue, Interlude 1: Do Not Stand Over My Grave And Weep, Part 3

✴︎ PART 3: LEAVES FROM THE VINE ✴︎

3.8k words. In which everyone has to confront something they lost.

CW: Recollections of mild violence towards the end.

Characters featured: Cassiopeia Cassano, Consul Valerius/Valeriy Radošević -Cassano, Louisa De Silva, Aelius Anatole

Lore guide: ‘Toly’ and ‘Lily are nicknames the R-C use for Anatole. ‘Lily’ comes from Little; “Up the steps” is Vesuvian slang for rich people/people who live in the Heart district; “Chainmails” is slang for the Guards

What to catch up with Anatole’s Apprentice series? You can do that here.

With this piece, Anatole’s apprentice adventures end, for now. Thank you very much for reading about them ♥

Two voices spoke in within his darkened bedroom in the Palace as Anatole slowly came back from his fainting episode. How embarrassing. It had been at least a year since the last time he passed out because of a poorly attended migraine, but he would take fainting in public before riling himself up into a panic attack.

He began to stir himself awake, feeling the after effects of the migraine still in his temples.

The voices did not go; they were in the room then. He didn’t want to alert them of his rousing, but the more he tried to make out what they were saying, the more obvious it was to him he needed fresh air and a gallon of water. He made a vexed, pitiful sound as he tried to sit on the bed and the room around him went quiet.

“It is better if I left,” one of the voices said.

“The least you could do—”

“Don’t tell me how to handle this Cassiopeia—”

Cassiopeia snorted. “You handling anything would be the real surprise here.”

“You have no idea what I’m going through, so why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?”

Recognition danced around Anatole as he feared the owner of the voice would slam the door shut. By the whisking sound of cut air, he was about to, but decided against it on the last minute. Anatole felt eyes on him, but when he tried to turn to look, all he could see was the door closing very carefully, with a quiet click. If Anatole was more awake he’d say it sounded like someone who didn’t want to leave. He wasn’t, however, so instead he focused on sitting up.

The voice that stayed, Cassiopeia, brought a chair close to Anatole’s bed, the legs of it scraping against the floorboards. She was a handsome woman, with a wide smile, deep brown skin with a bronze undertone; had there been more light in the room, Anatole would’ve been able to see the freckles on her face very much resembled his own. She had expressive eyebrows, and her tight curls were put together in an up-do, with jewellery accents clipped on the side of her head. 

Anatole recognised her as the woman he had seen in an echo the day he arrived at the palace, the one wrapping her arm around a younger version of himself in encouragement. She had looked happier there; now she looked tired behind her welcoming, warm, smile.

She offered him water. “I figured you would like something to drink, does this happen often?”

Anatole accepted the drink, taking tiny sips from it. “It hasn’t happened in a while. I live with it just fine, most of the time…” 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Now, I’m not trying to trespass any boundaries, so you don’t need to explain anything you don’t want to, Toly— I mean, Dear, but if this happened to my daughter, or say, a nephew of mine, I would ask them if there’s any medicine I could procure for them.”

“How did you just call me?”

“Hm? ‘Dear’, is that alright by you?”

“No, you called me ‘Toly’. My, I know... there was someone who called me that, but I can’t remember.”

Cassiopeia acted none the wiser. “Dear, you’ll make yourself indisposed once again.”

Anatole stared at her, until he begrudgingly accepted his defeat and drained his glass. “You needn’t worry, I promise I can handle it myself, I’ve already interrupted you enough.”

She insisted, her voice resonating with fondness Anatole didn’t know how to receive. “I know you can, but I care, we care. The Council is at your disposition, you know? Even if the Consul—”

Anatole grimaced as he remembered his confrontation with him. It had gone the opposite of how he wanted to. Running his hands through his face, he groaned into them, though he soon regretted it as the sound didn’t please his headache. “The Countess is going to be so angry at me.”

“I don’t think she will, and either way, I would gladly vouch for you. He shouldn’t have done that, even if he’s carrying a terrible weight, it was wrong,”

she paused, looking towards the curtained windows, focusing on a tiny beam of light that came when the outside breeze moved the drapes. “I closed them for you, I didn’t know if light was something you’d appreciate it or not right now. Would you like me to open them?”

“Please. Sunlight makes me feel better.”

Anatole thought he heard her say that she knew it did, but he didn’t acknowledge it, suspecting Cassiopeia would deny it again.

 “I’m not trying to justify my cousin, but Valeriy has been through a lot lately. He isn’t the same man he was four years ago, and the Gods know we have our hands tied.”

As recognition dawned on him, his headache became worse. It moved right between his eyes, a piercing pain accompanied by the laughter of a child hanging from a tree branch as they threw themself into the arms of a man with long, soft hair.

He hissed in pain and before he could stop her, Cassiopeia was preparing him a migraine tonic. Later, when Anatole was left alone once again, he would realise he never had to explain to her his late Aunt Paris’ recipe for migraine tonics. Cassiopeia already knew it.

Right then, however, the knowledge slipped from his mind.

Before he could strain himself any further, Cassiopeia told him to lie back and drink his medicine, compelling him to rest. Anatole insisted it was fine after taking all of the concoction with one swift chug. 

“I’m used to it. I promise it’s fine. Asra has always been there for me since this happened to me,” he said with a vague hand gesture, avoiding any further explanation about his memory loss, migraines were safe enough, memory loss? He wasn’t sure. “But I’ve also been well, mostly on my own. With Antu. Asra does what he can and we fend for each other.”

Anatole petted Antu’s fur; Cassiopeia told him the Raccoon, whom she affectionately called “little beast” refused to leave his side.

They sat in silence as the tonic began working it’s magic, until a sob came out of Cassiopeia. She promptly excused herself, trying to calm down. Anatole was almost reminded of himself and the echo of a woman about his age, that looked a lot like Cassiopeia only both her eyes were green. Her name danced in the tip of his tongue.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“No,” Anatole apologised.

“That is most alright, you ought not to apologise, Anatole. I am Cassiopeia Cassano, councilwoman of this City, and know that if you ever find yourself in need of a friend, I am here for you.”

Cassiopeia looked at him with sorrow. He could feel it too, inside himself, as something told him these people had once been very important to him but remained unable to recall how, why or when. Not knowing was going to drive him crazy, so against his common sense telling him not to do things that would make his headache worse, he asked:

“The person who was with you when I was waking, was it… was it the Consul?”

She hesitated.

“Yes, that was Consul.”

Anatole felt like he did after he had talked to Asra in the fountain and that man had called his name — those feelings of sorrow and disconnection taking hold of him again, as whatever had happened to him slipped through his fingers once more. “I knew him, didn’t I? I knew both of you.”

“I shouldn’t,”

“Cassiopeia, please. He looks like me when I’m angry, and, and I keep seeing echoes of myself when I was younger, a being younger that I don’t remember, but you’re both always with me and we look—”

“Happy?”

“Proud. I walked into the Palace and everyone knows my name, but acts like I shouldn’t be here and I saw you both walking me in and you looked so, so proud of me. This is not the first time I’ve had a dèja vú like that.”

“We were” she said with a defeated sigh, tears once again threatening to overflow her waterline. “When it came to the Court, you were our rising sun.”

Cassiopeia stood up. “You ought to rest, I have talked too much. I’m sorry, I know how much you hate not knowing but I need some answers for myself, too.”

He didn’t know what had compelled him to speak, which he was used to by now even if he hated it —he liked knowing what was about to come out of his mouth, thank you very much. He didn’t regret it, though, because he could tell Cassiopeia wouldn’t think ill of it, nor use it against him.

Anatole could do little more than thank her, taken aback with the intensity and sincerity of her words. Yet, despite her original word, Cassiopeia betrayed herself and said:

“Is there anything else you almost remember?”

“So many things I cannot name, nor place, nor put to shape. How am I supposed to carry out an investigation, if I myself barely know where I came from?”

Councilwoman Cassano walked back to the side of Anatole’s bed like he was on fire and she had to put him out. Forgoing the chair completely, she kneeled by the bedside and took his hands in hers. She was crying now; Anatole found himself crying to.

“The moment you feel overwhelmed you stop me, is that clear Young Man? Good. Your name is Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva, you were born in Bgraz, in the Federative District of Ilvaska, in Balkovia, during a Civil War. Your family is as Blakovian as it is Vesuvian, but also have blood from the Alzoreños because that is where your mother was born. And you will be able to do this because you’re not alone, and because we will not leave you alone, and because you have always, always found your way.”

She left the room shortly after, leaving Anatole to realise that his name on her lips felt the same way it felt when Asra said it: full of sorrow but also full of love. Nadia arrived not five minutes after, so Anatole would have to think about that later. 

Cassiopeia couldn’t go home yet, she had worked to do. She did try to find Medea, but she was nowhere to be found. She remembered her and Anatole were almost attached at the hip when he had first been alive, so perhaps she would know something. Some dreadful feeling found its way to her gut, because that was indeed her nephew, the one who had died. She knew it in her heart, she knew it like she’d known the guidance of the Moon and the protection of the Sun.

She didn’t know enough about resurrections and necromancy, but Valerian did. She’d have to speak with the old Cassano patriarch as soon as she was home, maybe he’d know what to do, and it would all sort itself out. For now, though, she continued her day knowing that at the very least, her wonderful nephew was alive. 

At the other side of the City, Doctor Louisa De Silva was going through her day. It was one of those days when she simply had to move, unable to tolerate being cooped up inside. Seeing people, talking to people, anything to feel like a real human again.

She had to admit those weren’t the only reasons. Walking and running errands helped her think, and she had much to think about.

Amparo was hiding something from them. Call it motherly intuition on Louisa’s part, but she knew she was. She might be depressed, and she might have been incredibly absent from the world around her for longer than a year after Anatole had died, but Louisa had never been stupid. She had suspected it for a while, snippets of conversation and certain behaviours drawing her attention. Then, Antu had gone missing almost permanently and whenever he came back, the raccoon seemed oddly chiper. Too chiper for a creature that had been wallowing in it’s own sorrow. 

Then, certain things went missing from Anatole’s rooms. Books, clothes, quills, beddings, his harp. How Amparo had managed to relocate it without anyone noticing, Louisa didn’t know, but she knew her son’s harp was gone and it seemed suspicious that both Amparo and Valerian had had an explanation for it. Lastly, there was the issue of Vlad having claimed to see Anatole two days ago. 

Louisa knew about magic like one knew of history. While she could’ve learnt, she had never felt the need: Paris was the magician out of the two of them, and there was always Vlad, even if, as an alchemist, his tether to magic was different than for most people’s. Be that as it may, Vlad had been “seeing” their son for a while now, even if recently it had stopped. It began with sleepwalking, Vlad covering lengths of the Palazzo, because ‘Anatole needed him’.

Once he made it to the street, crumbling when he was told what he had done. He thought he was losing his mind, something Louisa understood. Nothing would ever compare to the pain of losing Anatole, but Vlad’s sleep walking seemed like a cruel twist of the universe. Her husband acted as if compelled, saying he could hear Anatole in his dreams, needing to go find him, because his boy needed him. Louisa thought it was just nightmares at first. Now, she wasn’t so sure. 

Someone bumped into her in the South End apothecary she was in, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

There were plenty of Apothecaries around Vesuvia of varying qualities and exclusivity, though Dr. De Silva had her favourites, this being one of them. Today it was particularly busy, the humdrum and talk in both accented common, and half-and-half (the way Vesuvians called the back and forth change between Dialect and Common tongue) hitting her with full force now that she had become aware of them, people’s voices around her and the sounds from the streets no longer white noise. 

A middle aged lady was gossiping with another of the Apothecary’s clients. 

“So I told the wife, you wouldn’t believe whom I saw Maz’ Ilya with, and bet you what, she didn’t believe me. Remember the Radošević boy?”

“Who?”

“You know, the Cassano’s blond new blood, whatever was his name… the one who worked with Mr. Stick-up-the-ass— Councilwoman Cassano’s nephew, you know the one… Aleli, Anar??”

“Anatole?”

“That’s the boy!”

“Are you sure you weren’t drunk? He’s fucking dead.”

“Tell you he isn’t! He’s alive as the two of us, walking around with Ilya D—”

“Don’t say his name, you idiot.”

“No one’s listening, relax, anyway— he was walking around with… you know, just like they did before the plague. I know surviving that made us all a little loose up here, but I know what I saw. Alive as you and me, I tell you. Nothing mortal can kill the bastards they said, and I’m starting to believe it.”

“And what? You’re going to tell me you reached the fucking Cassano so you knew him personally, and that’s why you’re so sure? They’re better than most of that lot, but they left the ‘Grave long ago. You’re imagining things.”

“Listen, my brother knew him. I described the guy to him, and he said that was either Aelius Radosevic or someone who looked a lot like him. He’d know what I was talking about, he’s part of the union—”

“You know the ‘Nothing mortal can kill a Cassano’ is just a saying right? They’d have to be witches or something.”

“How do you know they aren’t?”

“How do you know a dead man went around walking?”

“I bet he was never dead, and they had to hide him from the Goat voiced fuck we had for a Count.”

“Take out the ‘o’ and you’re spelling him right out. If you were in the Raven you were drunk as hell, am willing to bet. No other witnesses, I fucking bet.”

“The chainmails got in, the bird sang.” 

“Of course, Tilde,” the person the lady, Tilde, was talking to said. “Tell you what, if the man’s alive I’ll eat my shoe, but be ready to take a fall about that because I am willing to bet he was just like every other Up the Steps bastard in the end, if he is in fact alive. Chickened out, like his coward uncle and—”

“Hey!” Louisa yelled. If she didn’t startle herself with the volume of her own voice, it was only out of how angry she was, the more she heard this person go on. “That’s my son you’re talking about. Anatole was my son.”

She acted on impulse, anxiety and anger making her blood shake and her pulse rise up. There was a lot she could understand from others, but not this. Not the defamation of her son’s character, not when Anatole had given his life away for Vesuvians, not when Anatole had arrived shaken and yelled at by the Courtiers so many times, not when she could remember how his shoulder bled that one time Pontifex Vulgora dug their gauntlets on his skin. 

Not when Lucio’s neglect had murdered her son. She had already lost enough to tyrants to withstand this. 

The shop around her went quiet as the middle aged lady recognised her. 

“You’re Doctor De Silva! You’re that woman who—”

The person she had been speaking to before interrupted her. “Was he? So is he dead or is he alive?”

Louisa’s reply died in her mouth. Did she really know the answer? She thought she did. She thought that awful letter from the nurses of the Lazaret had been enough proof of the death of her son, but if he was alive, then how? Anatole would never run away, she knew her son, running away from love and duty was not something her son would ever do.

Something broke inside of her as she remembered how Anatole had fit between her arms. Angry, hot tears began rolling down her cheeks. Whatever way she looked, it made the person backtrack. 

“Lady, are you okay?”

“What kind of question is that? How dare you offer me pity after you have the audacity to speak of my son that way. You should have more respect for those who gave their lives to save others amid the Red Plague.”

“Oh, is this about gratitude? Isn’t it always with you high and mighty bastards?”

“Hey!” Someone else intervened. “The Cassano are on our side, and you know that, leave the Doctor alone, she heals our children for free. Aren’t you going to apologise?”

“No,” the person said. 

“I don’t need them too,” Louisa added, shooting them a deadly glare before turning to the other lady, Tilde. “You must have been mistaken, my son is very much dead and buried in the Lazaret, but it is nice to know someone still thinks about him.”

“I don’t mean to poke, but are you sure, Miss? There’s talk about him working directly for the Countess now, so it made sense to me. About your height, scar over his nose, looks a lot like the Consul and a lot like you too. Same front teeth.”

The other person scoffed again. “You saw his teeth now?”

“Shut up,” Louisa barked at them. “Sorry, Tilde, you might be mistaken.”

“I know I’m not, you should look into it, Miss. Ask my brother about it, he has a shop three streets down.”

As the argument ended, the shop’s awkward silence gave way to the same humdrum as before. Louisa received her order and left the place, not without stealing a look at Tilde’s direction, who was offering some leeches to the Apothecary to examine. They swung their head towards Louisa, making Tilde turn: with her thumb, she pointed left, in the direction Louisa could only assume was her brother’s shop. With so many things in her life, Louisa’s body knew what the right thing to do was before her brain could catch up, and only like a mother who knew the right way to love her child could, she asked on every shop three blocks to the left of the Apothecary until she found Tilde’s brother. 

Amparo would have so much explaining to do. 

* * *

He no longer knew who he was. After Amparo came forward to all her family and his nephew’s friends, per theirs, Milenko’s, Cassiopeia’s and Louisa’s insistence, he had seen Milan summon Asra Al-Nazar from the pond in the Winter Garden. Well, not “summon”, that was a strong word, but rather called, and Al-Nazar had answered. 

He had to listen to them confirm what he had been dreading: that the apparition in the shape of his Anatole, the one he had thrown wine to under the hawke-like gaze of the rest of the Courtiers, and who then had confronted him, knowing information about Valeriy who no one outside their family knew, was not an apparition. He wasn’t witchcraft. He was real. Real as they all were.

Asra Al-Nazar, against everything Valeriy thought the magician would consider forbidden, made a deal with an entity to give half his heart to Anatole, so he could live once again. The cost had been his memories, locked away deep down into himself. 

Yet, Asra had crumbled into Milenko’s arms as he explained how somehow he remembered, but he couldn’t make him remember. “I only make it worse,” he had said. 

Instead of staying in the room, Valeriy had walked away. When there was nothing more to say and Cassiopeia asked him if he saw it now, he had felt his throat close. As fast as he could he got away from the scrutinising weight of his family, as the man he used to be and he had wanted to bury resurfaced. 

Valeriy Radošević had begun agonising with his nephew’s death. The last tendrils of control he had slipped away. So when the Devil offered him a way out after years of looking at him over the shoulder, waiting for him in the lonesome hours and cold dead-ends, he had struck the final blow to the man his family expected him to be, and the uncle whom Anatole had once loved.

He had always been a difficult man, but what he had become now, if his family knew… they would never forgive them. It seemed easy before, when Anatole was dead: what a better way to self-destruct, what a better way for his life to slowly end. Let the grief that had always been part of him eat him up and spit back the cruel carcass of the monster he was starting to become. 

Now, as the realisation that Anatole was indeed alive, Valerius realised this mask he had crafted for years, the mask which was nothing but the coffin of the man he once could’ve been, was starting to break. Out of it, Valeriy Radosevic began to resourface, like an overflowing well, a spring, or a reminder of dawn. 

Did you name yourself after the Sun?

Yes, Uncle Val. Do you think it’s fitting?

Very much so, Lily, darling. You’re my favourite sunrise.

He found an empty remote room, slamming the door behind him. In the room there was a mirror and when Valeriy looked into his own reflection, he didn’t see his eyes but Matilda Cassano’s. Instead of the sandy-grey eyes he had inherited from one of his grandparents, he saw the unforgiving yellowish of his dead biological mother. 

Though he was four when she died, part of him could remember enough: the abandonment and the constant tension between Matilda, Valerian and Iovanus, or between Matilda and Mircea and Florentino. The former was a Radošević, the brother of Matilda’s husband, Valeriy’s biological father, Kresmir. The latter was a Cassano, Matilda’s first cousin. They had married each other and only a year older than Matilda herself, had stepped up where Vlad’s and Valeriy’s biological parents had failed. 

Though he was four when both of them died, he knew enough. The cruelty, the anger in his brother’s eyes. His brother, the father of his nephew, had taken better care of him as a baby than his parents ever did. If Valeriy had survived during his first infancy when no other adults were around, it was because of Vladislav and Vladislav alone. 

In the mirror, a cruel half-ram creature with the eyes of his mother smiled back at him. It spoke back to him in his own voice: “Proud, at last, of what you chose to become?”

Valeriy took his hands to his face and so did the creature. While he only touched his soft, human skin, the monster in the mirror touched fur. Making himself of the first blunt object he could reach, he threw it to the mirror and as it broke, he broke down with it. 

[vampiresuns]

a 🍓but because I'm indecisive: dealer's choice, share a fact for an OC you haven't gotten to talk about yet

[ Give me a: 🍓 and one of my OCs, and i’ll tell you some random facts about said OC ]

Let's go

Amparo and Artemisia's parents are called Cassiopeia Cassano and Iris Cassano (née De Souza Mebarak).

Iris' family is Venterrean-Vesuvian, they have a summer state in the region of Lulia (yes, this references your own post). She's the youngest of four children (Teresa Aliyah (she/her), Rasim Osvaldo (he/him), Ferreira Maria (he/they) and themself Iris José). Her parents names are Emira Nadra Inas Mubarak, Barona of Almeida and Thiago Teodoro Ferreira De Souza.

Iris absolutely was the rebellious one. Often sneaked out just because they could. As part of their status-worthy education, they speak five languages, do calligraphy, horse-rides, fences and does archery, though she usually sneaked out during her lessons and practices.

Thiago Teodoro was incredibly lenient with her because, as the youngest, Iris was not going to inherit anything. Nadra has never stuck through a punishment she ever gave her. From a point on she just sighed, and as long as Iris didn't put themself in danger or ridicule, she didn't really care.

The Emira is almost never in Almeida (a fortress City State near Karnassos) as it is ruled by her older brother. The Lulia Summer State is hers.

The family has property in Almeida, Venterre's capital, Lulia and Vesuvia. They don't dislike the Cassano because that is social suicide but they, of course, prefer it when they aren't to inconvenienced. Someone must care for the populace of course, but don't poke them too much. The Emira is a little more involved than Thiago. She vastly prefers Nadia.

Still, when Iris went into a relationship with Cassiopeia Thiago Teodoro and the Emira were both you What. Iris promptly reminded them that they thought they didn't dislike them :)

Though Iris took the surname, sometimes it's hard for them to assimilate they are Iris Cassano and not Iris José De Souza-Mubarak. Iris never realised how different they could be from Cassiopeia until they had to meet Cassie's parents. Both of them were high priests (a high priestess and a high priest respectively, but both of them used they/them pronouns) and deeply involved with causes of social justice and the well-being off those who sought refuge in the Temple District.

Amparo gets her wall climbing tendencies from Iris.

Uncle Ferreira covered a lot for Iris when they were teenagers, and he is the one who sees Amparo and Artemisia the most. Iris thinks Artemisia sometimes resembles him in disposition. So concerned, so responsible, but when she feels out of place, Iris is reminded of themself.

Both Amparo and Artemisia are transfeminine. Amparo is a trans woman, and Art is genderfluid.

The faceclaims are under the cut!

This is Cassiopeia's (she/her; fc: Paloma Elsesser)

And this is Iris' (she/they; fc: Vitoria Strada)

This is Amparo's (she/her; fc: Lea T)

And this is Artemisia's (she/her; Quintessa Swindell)

[vampiresuns]

How Will It Matter After You’re Gone

For Anatole’s day 13 of @arcana-echoes​: Aftermath.

Title: From Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance (Nana was an MCR teen, it’s only fair).

Quick guide: Here you can check on the Cassano-Radosevic family tree. Medea Pryce & Leonore Kaur are Anatole’s best friends, I owe them a post. Medea is a community organiser, and Leonore a therapist in training. Althea is his twin sister, and Navneet his eldest sibling (there’s seven Kaurs: Navneet, Sashi, Althea & Leonore, and Isha, Vaishnavi and Ashok). Navneet and Anatole end up together in one of his timelines.

Dear Vesuvia,

It is with the greatest regret that the Cassano of this City inform to the public that Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva, Of The Cassano of Vesuvia, has passed away in the Lazaret on the date —.

Taking this time to mourn, while the Cassano and the Consul will remain in the city, striving to find a cure, we inform the city that Consul Valerius has taken the decision to close the doors of the Palazzo.

Due to sanitary measures, no funeral will be held.

Milenko & Amparo

Amparo sat in the middle of the stage of the closed theatre. She wanted to be alone, everyone’s energy threatening to drag her down and never bring her back again, down to a place where the sun does not rise. Not that it matters. The sun could rise a thousand times over, and she feels like she will never notice it again. Losing Anzano, her grandparent, was hard enough. Losing Anatole was unbearable.

Her Anatole deserved the brightest of requiems, and he will have silence, in a bitter city which will probably not mourn him. Not that she can hold it against them — but it still hurts, just like it hurt to feel him die. She always knows when people die.

“Vesuvia lost it’s last honest lover,” she tells no one.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, but she knows she must head back, and for the first time in forever, she dreads Death itself.

When she comes back, she finds Milenko sitting on Anatole’s piano, crying.

Valerian

Valerian Cassano spent three days siting in the winter garden of the Palazzo after his great grandson died. He knew the biggest loss would always be for his parents, he had gone through that long before they had to. Losing a child was something one never truly recovered of.

He remembers so clearly the first time he met that child: golden before his hair caught up with his personality, avid to learn, curious, ambitious, resolved, more intelligent than most people he’s met. He reminded him of Vitale, his father in law.

Sometimes, if you spoke to the dead, they would listen, so he tried his luck: “Elysian, my dearest friend, take care of him. Do what we could not.”

Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia Cassano considered herself a lot of things: dedicated, passionate, fair, reserved, thoughtful. Brave... bravery was something she was beginning to doubt in herself. Seeing your parent die of a disease as invasive as the plague could do that to a person — seeing someone like Anatole, with his vitality of a thousand suns, could cement it a little deeper in oneself.

Cassiopeia didn’t like endings, they were predictable and inevitable and, sometimes, unfair. At least Amparo was back, and she didn’t have to worry about wherever she was and if she would be safe. 

A door opened and closed behind her. She turned to find Iris, her spouse.

“How is Lele?”

“She’s eating, at least.”

“And Lenko?”

“Lenko doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“How... how is...”

“Louisa and Vlad? Please don’t make me answer that.”

“And Va—”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes swelled with tears. Holding her own forehead, she began to cry. Iris sat with her, holding her free hand and kissing her knuckles.

“He rearranged the filing system for the Council by himself— he—” a hiccup, “he had so many plans—”

“I know.”

“He was drafting a social reform for—”

“I know.”

“I’m never going to see him walk around with his coffee, nor terrorise the Praetor. I’m never going to see him— I’m never—”

“I know, my love, I know.”

“He would’ve been a wonderful Consul, Iris.”

Iris’ voice trembled. “I know.” They held Cassiopeia closer. The only thing they could think about was how that could’ve been Amparo.

Mircea & Florentino

“Florence?” Mircea Radošević said, looking and sounding lifeless. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Mircea understood. He didn’t either.

Medea & Leonore

She’s cried too much to be properly angry, but no matter what she does, no matter how much she pets Leonore’s hair she keeps silently crying, snot threatening to make her unable to breathe alltogether. She’s tired, exhausted, and miserably, dreadfully alone. She feels alone in this world like she hasn’t in years. Leonore has his forehead on her forearm, and a hand on his third glass of spiced whiskey. The only reason why he stopped drinking was because he began crying again.

Medea used to think nothing was enough of a hit to fully break Leonore. He had that quality about him: feelings came, they went, and he sat with discomfort running rampant, only to build up after it was gone with a smile on his face.

Not any more.

Leonore sobbed pitifully, choking on his own cries.

After he finally managed to calm down, he looked at her: “How the fuck will I tell Navneet? How am I telling Althea.”

She began crying again. “I don’t know, Leo — I don’t have the slightest fucking idea.”

“Fucking— How the fuck am I going to wake up tomorrow if he’s, if he—”

“I don’t know, Leo... I really don’t know.”

Antupillán

Antu searched the entire city for Anatole, only not to find him anywhere.

He had gone where Antu couldn’t follow, so he did the only thing he could think of: he went back to Anatole’s room, made himself a lair in his wardrobe, and feel asleep.

If you paid enough attention, you could hear him weeping.

Vlad & Louisa

Aelius Anatole, his son, had come into the world at dawn to seal the lesson that Louisa had brought into his life: that if he knows what love is, it is because they exist. He had nicknamed him Lily because he had always been little, shorter than the other kids, yet somehow stood taller, brighter. He figures all parents think the same of their children.

His son came into the world at dawn. Vlad will never know at what time he left it. He will never know if he was scared. He will never know if the fever kept him lucid. He will never have a body to hold, just like he used to before, when Anatole still asked to be tucked in, demanding to be given a hand to tug on while he fell asleep.

He will have no stories to tell him, he will have no more hallway dances to see him dance, no more dreams, no more smiles. 

Death has taken so much from him, all he feels is rage. For the first time in years, he wishes he had died too, but he has a wife, and he can’t leave her alone.

Louisa De Silva never expected to have any children, nor she expected her only son to be taken away from her. She thinks, no, she knows she will feel hollow for the rest of her life, that nothing ever will be the same: happiness will be a ghost of what it used to be. Food will taste blander than before. Joy will be watered, and laugh will take a long vacation never to return.

That Anatole is now with her sister is no consolation at all. She’s always loved Paris, but right now, she’s envious of her. Wherever it is that they are, if there is such a place, her sister will get to hold her son while she didn’t have a chance to even see him die. She holds the arm of the chair she’s sitting in until her knuckles go white. She feels like fainting.

Incompetent and despotic rulers have taken so many things from her: her family home, her parents when they sent her away, and now, while a different tyrant, the offence is the same, worse even, because they too have taken her son.

Louisa De Silva, mother of Aelius Anatole, is a doctor: she doesn’t need to be told all of this was preventable, but it was her son the one who paid the price.

Valerius

“Uncle! Uncle! Look at what I learnt today in my fencing lessons!” Anatole was 8 then.

“Uncle? Was that your boyfriend?” Anatole, aged 9, hanged from a tree branch to ask him that question.

“Uncle!” He had screamed of joy at 11, running to him in the Palazzo after Valerius moved permanently to Vesuvia.

Dearest Uncle, he had written at 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.

“Valeriy,” he had called him not two weeks ago, still so sure they would endure this. They are Radošević’s, they are Cassanos, the are Vesuvians but also Balkovian: that meant whatever life threw their way, they survived it.

Or they were.

Valerius feels a knot on his throat: he doesn’t have Anatole’s resolve, his progressive ideas, he doesn’t have his hope, and whatever amount of those he had himself, they died with him. They died with him, giving his life away for a city which would never appreciate him, which would never value him like he did. They did not deserve the soil of Anatole’s shoes and now he’s dead. The boy had given them summer without them asking, a summer which was snatched away from him: Anatole had slipped from his grip like sun-rays between his fingers. 

The world should stop without him. That it didn’t was an act of cruelty Valerius would never forgive, even if resentment poisoned him. No amount to lying to himself will change the fact his Aelius died, that he failed his brother in protecting him, that he will have no successor, no one to pass the Consulship to, and that no one will ever be worthy.

A year later, he will watch the Count burn in his bed, and he will smile: Good, he will think, If Anatole did not get to live, then neither should you.

[vampiresuns]

I'm sorry for my triangle but, how about a prompt for Julian and Nana's first meeting?

A moment of silence to the fallen ones 😔

And of course you may! This is the first part of their meeting fic for my potential Julesverse rewrite. It's 1k words but we're still calling it a preview for that reason alone, as the piece is supposed to run longer. It's called "אליהו" aka "Ilya" but this is how it's written in Yiddish, even though the first bit doesn't have a lot of Julian, oops.

* * *

Characters featured: Aelius Anatole Radošević, Julian Devorak, Consul Valerius (as Valeriy Radošević-Cassano), Cassiopeia Cassano, Count Spada and Lucio (both mentioned only).

CWs: Nose injuries, blood.

* * *

The Flooded District’s name was a recent development. The Canals and aqueducts in the area had fallen into disrepair under Count Spada, finally giving into the rising tides of the Eastern Docks and Ash Beach; because of the rock formations around the cliff sides of that side of Vesuvia, the high tide came in in the opposite direction of the Canal’s waters, pushing back the Borean river and destroying the canal architecture over time.

Spada had refused to touch the Canals. The Canals in Vesuvia were never to be touched as Anatole, as a Cassano (partly) knew the reasons better than most. However, there had been other ways to fix it that didn’t involve changing the Canals at all. Support structures and leverages could be added, but from what Anatole was told by his Aunt Cassiopeia and Uncle Valeriy, Spada had feared adding attachments to the Canals would alter the magic of the ritual.

As if consultants cannot be hired, Anatole thought once again and not for the last time, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes in public, lest people mistook his annoyance’s true reason. Still, to himself, he was allowed to be petty. He had tried to coordinate an effort by asking the Head City Planner on the side about it, in hopes Lucio would allow it on the offering on having his ego stroked.

The Count had never had much of an ear for the City Planner’s, which was a problem in itself. He didn’t see the point of it. Didn’t Cities take care of themselves? Why did it matter? As a result, the City Planning department in the Court had taken to working with the Consul alone, continuing a trend that had already begun under Spada’s rule, as the Head City Planner got along better with Consul Iovanus, Valeriy’s predecessor, than with the Count.

On top of that, in order to do anything to the canals at all, the order didn’t just have to be signed by the Count, but also by the Consul and Quaestor Valdemar. As commendable as a try as it was, it was a Dead End. Well, through official means at least. The Flooded District’s councilperson, a civil organiser with leverage in some Guilds and Unions, had told the Council about initiatives led by the inhabitants of the district, and how, perhaps, it would be a good idea to get funds for them if the situation was unsalvageable for now.

Funds and hands to help, Anatole thought. He offered his own, as there was something at the very least he could do. Valeriy thought it was a great idea, it was a good opportunity for Anatole, as his successor, to get out on the street in a manner that wasn’t too official.

“Just please remember you’re still the Council’s secretary and my successor, you little creature,” the Consul had told his nephew with a warm almost-smile and pride in his eyes.

Anatole wanted to do good on his own, he had chosen this for a reason, but he was also aware of Court tensions and how, the sooner he was ready to succeed Valeriy, the sooner his uncle could leave the position. He had been holding it for over 15 years now, and the exhaustion in him was palpable. It wouldn’t do to have a Cassano Consul who could not stand his ground, so the replacement rotation should go faster between Uncle and Nephew. In the comfort of their own home, Valeriy always reminded Anatole with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and joked about how, hopefully, they’ll be lucky enough that Count Lucio dropped from the face of the Earth by the time Anatole became the Consul.

The thought by then was terrifying for Anatole. He didn’t feel ready. While his family always told him it was likely he would never feel ready, per se, so it was best to trust himself, his ever-growing capacities and the ones around him, he still felt out of place at it. As if he hadn’t done enough. People didn’t need to know that, however.

The voice in his head that spoke like his therapist reminded him it was alright to open up. The small, imaginary version of him that lived in his head batted it away. He’d focus on the Flooded District, there were lots of things he could do to help from lobbying to organising, to acting as a clerk for those people carrying things out logistically. When it came to execution he knew what to do, or hoped he did. Either way, he handled himself and working for Vesuvia was good and commendable—

Someone dropped something, startling Anatole out of his thoughts.

“I’ve got it!” He said, crouching down to retrieve it, without really looking or thinking what he was doing. He just acted, automatic pilot engaged and his previous trail of thought lost, if the feelings vaguely remained.

“Secretary, watch out!”

“Wh— FUCK—”

A cry of pain interrupted his own stunned cursing as he fell back. Someone he couldn’t see broke his fall by a hair, though Anatole wasn’t about to question his luck, he’d take almost anything before busting his head on the cobblestones as well. Apparently a board from a scaffold had given in, hitting him square on the face. He could breathe, so as far as he knew his nose wasn’t broken, but he couldn’t tell and it was overwhelming to think as all the worry from unknown voices washed over him. Frighted like static as the skin of his wound felt like lemon sizzling.

He took his hand to the bridge of his nose. It stung. He told people around him he was fine, but given how he winced and how he was bleeding no one believed him. People debated if he should sit up or lie down, and their static flavoured voices (with feelings he couldn’t tune out no matter how he tried, his magic betraying him) overwhelmed him. Almost like being buried underneath a thousand mattresses.

He put his hand out, shielding his eyes from light, his own wet, red blood on his fingertips. A single voice, with the steady sensation of determination and collected purpose, made its way through the people around him.

“Leave him where you found him, excuse me, let me come through, I’m a medical professional with years of experience in hazardous wounds such as this one—”

His eyes were grey like a bright winter night and his hair the warm red of a hearth’s fire.

“Ah, ah, ah, there you go, easy does it,” the man told Anatole as he examined his face and ran some basic check ups on him. “I’m Doctor Dvořák,” with steady hands which knew its professional practice well, he helped Anatole sit up. As he checked his nose for fractures, he smiled at him: “But you, you can call me Ilya.”

[vampiresuns]

Interlude 1: Do Not Stand Over My Grave And Weep, Part 2

⟡ PART 2: FRIENDS ARE THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE ⟡

2.2k words. In which Anatole’s friends start uncovering the mystery of his death and sudden reappearance. 

CW: Death and discussions of it.

What to catch up with Anatole’s Apprentice series? You can do that here.

He had met him at University. He had been his friend since he was 18 years old. Anatole and Medea had been Leonore’s first lasting friends, the first people who outside of his family, had taught him permanence was not entrapment. They had filled his life with growth and laughter; he had suffered their woes, he had celebrated their triumphs, he had followed them into Vesuvia despite his original wish to travel the world. 

He still travelled, but he always came back to them. Medea and Anatole weren’t just friends: they were family now. When Leonore closed his eyes he could see them holding hands and jumping into the water one summer evening in Prakra. He could see Medea using his thigh as a pillow under a tree. He could see Anatole dancing. He could see Medea and Anatole dressed to the nines for their new Court jobs. 

He would know them anywhere. He would know them by the way their steps sounded alone.

It took Leonore some moments to remember where he was, Octavia gently nudging him. Sabine, who he didn’t realise had gone, announced themselves again, saying they had lost Anatole’s doppelgänger in the crowd. 

Only it hadn’t been a doppelgänger. Leonore knew his best friend, he knew Anatole when he saw him. 

“No,” he said at last. “No, that’s him. That’s him, Octavia. That was him, and I need to find him.” 

“Leonore, wait! Anatole’s dead.” 

They began bickering about it, Octavia trying to stop Leonore from head diving into a wild goose chase, not realising Selasi, the Baker, was listening to them. 

“Excuse me, forgive me for overhearing, but are you talking about Anatole Radošević? The magician from Moonstone and Jasmine?” 

“Yes! His aunt owned that shop,” Leonore said, jumping to talk to Selasi, who inspected him with a careful eye. 

“I don’t know what prank you’re playing, but he’s alive as can be. I opened a little after the plague subsided and he and Asra have been getting bread from me for three years, almost. They’re attached at the hip, so if you know Asra—“ 

Leonore leaped to shake his hand. “I do know, Asra! Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Selasi tried to tell him Asra wasn’t around, that he was on a journey, but that he could tell him where to find Anatole if he promised he was a friend, but Leonore sprinted towards the shop without letting him finish. Sabine set off to follow Leonore as Octavia called to both of them, which left her standing alone with Selasi. She made some apologies, and Selasi told her not to worry. 

“Where did you say you knew him?”

“Leonore went to University with him,” she said, thinking the least she could do was to assure the man they were Anatole’s friends, not some random people with weird motivations. “I know him through his cousin.”

The baker hummed. “I didn’t know Anatole had any family besides his late Aunt and Asra.”

Something about the way he said it, the casual certainty of it, gave Octavia a chill. She thanked him, and tried to catch up with Sabine and Leonore, not wanting to say anything Selasi might not know. She risked him stopping them, or worse, telling Anatole, which she didn’t think would be a good idea. Octavia just had a bad feeling about it: she didn’t expect people to just know who Anatole was, or had been, that could be conceited. Anatole himself hated being anticipated by his job, wanting to have the opportunity to present himself and do the best he could do. 

Yet from there to the sureness Selasi had had when he said he didn’t know Anatole had any family besides Paris and Asra? It was weird. The Radošević-Cassano weren’t meant to be separated; if Octavia knew anything about them from Milenko, it was that they were very close knit. The only people in their families that Octavia could think of as not being regarded ever, were Matilda and Krešmir, Vlad’s and Valerius’ late parents, who hadn’t even raised the siblings. All she knew about them was that they were neglectful and Matilda had the idle ennui of someone who was too used to having everything, and was used to using cruelty for fun. 

Milenko had only talked about them a couple of times, and she had never heard the Consul even mention them, let alone Vlad, Anatole’s father. One way or another, the Cassano didn’t detach themselves from their family, nor did the Radošević, and Anatole had only ever been extremely proud of the people who had raised him. That had been their way since the days of Cassano Arianamenzi, the first of them, and she could testify that legacy had not washed away with time. If anything, it had become stronger. So why would Anatole not speak of it?

Unless he didn’t remember them. She had read about such a thing once, doing research for one of her most early plays. A shiver went down her back, making her hug her arms around herself and walk faster.

When Octavia reached the Moonstone Leonore and Sabine were talking to a tall man who seemed to guard the shop. None of them had seen him before, but he seemed to know them; he called them ‘people from before’. 

“You used to give Anatole clementines, which he doesn’t like—” he said. He was tall, covered in a cloak, and had moss green eyes, though they were barely visible.

“He says they taste fake,” Leonore completed.

“So he gave them to me, before— it doesn’t matter. You won’t find him here.”

The only thing stranger than the stranger was that none of them could remember him as they tried to piece their afternoon together. However, Octavia had heard Selasi say Anatole was occupied in the Palace, and perhaps they could try their luck there. 

“Then let’s go,” Leonore said, already standing up. “Maybe Medea knows something we don’t.”

Medea Pryce was the daughter of two archaeologists and the granddaughter of another one. Both her father’s and her mother’s family had settled in Vesuvia some generations ago because its cultural diversity and rich history was good for the archaeological craft. Anatole wasn’t the first Radošević-Cassano she had met — her Grandmother was acquainted with Bastiste Cassano, one of the Cassano elders, and thus with Consul Valerius, whom Batiste called her spoiled grandnephew. Medea’s parents, on the other hand, were acquainted with Atanasie Radošević and Aurora Tesfaye, uncle and mother of Anatole’s cousin Milenko. 

So when she met him at University, which she had begun in Prakra, just as he had done, the surname called to her immediately. Discovering they would course the exact same program, even if they had different aspirations and goals, another pleasant surprise. It would be nice to have someone to know, as Medea liked making friends.

What a friend she had made of him and Leonore, who shared housing with them. Anatole was one of those people who had the energy of a handsome stranger one shared enlightening conversation with, yet then never saw again. Debonair and hopeful, he was passionate and inspiring, a devoted friend and nothing if not extraordinary. He had his shortcomings, like everyone, but that wasn’t the way one measured their friends. 

Seasons came and time passed. They both studied and apprenticed in Balkovia for six months, and then they moved on into Vesuvia, Leonore following them, to their surprise. They laughed and hurt, they fell in love with their own people, they held each other, and Medea and Anatole drafted their plans for the future. It would be a great future, they were sure of it. Anatole’s self-introductory speech for the Vesuvian Court was a gem, Medea believed it so. They liked to fantasise about one day becoming Consul and Head of Staff, with all the things they thought they could help with, working together for the people of their City. 

No matter the crashes and reality checks, the hardships or how many times Medea had seen Anatole stand up to the Count and the new Courtiers, they held hands through it and continued onwards: The World and it’s calling of completion met its perfect match in Anatole’s Ace of Swords coloured Strength.

Then the Plague came and Anatole died, and Medea was left with all their plans, and no one to implement them with. 

After his death, things only got worse. She could tell something was going on with the Consul, but she wasn’t close enough to him to know what. She was somewhat closer to Councilwoman Cassiopeia, but she didn’t seem to know what was going on with her cousin either. The Courtiers hadn’t done anything of value for the City in three years, and all that Valerius ever seemed to do was to keep it afloat. The Court was destroyed, and with the Countess as lost as they all were, Medea didn’t know where they would end.

When she heard the Countess had found a new advisor she was thrilled. Fresh air was what the Court needed, and by the first weeks of this advisor around the Countess, it was clear they were doing her good, even if she had heard the advisor had had a rocky introduction with the Court. It seemed like it, because she knew from first hand experience that the Consul had come in furious to his office, refusing to speak to anyone, except to Cassiopeia, whom Medea was sure forced him to speak rather than him wilfully giving her any information.

He had only said something about something in poor taste, and how had he let the Countess know he would not tolerate it, but he didn’t say anything else. 

Her turn to meet the advisor came the next morning. It happened by accident, when she was delivering some documents to the Council of Vesuvia. Meet was a lax word for it, ‘seeing’ him, was much more appropiate: with his light golden blond hair, and bespoke clothes. The same unmistakable black eyes and the scar across the bridge of his nose. The same stride, the same height, the same face, the same looks. 

Her friend, her own dearest Aelius Anatole had walked into the Consul’s office seeking for an explanation about the way he had been received in Court. From there on, the morning was mayhem, absolute mayhem, and only now that Medea was sitting alone she could finally process it. 

“Anatole” had introduced himself fully, his name the right name, but the Consul wouldn’t hear it, immediately throwing himself at the throat of the “second-rate witch” for daring to use that name. Anatole continued to insist that was his name. The more the argument extended, it was clear to everyone involved that that was Anatole, even to the headstrong Consul — his panicked eyes gave him away.

Medea knew her friend, her friend had always had a presence, even if he wasn’t always aware of it. He still had it, he still stood in the same way the Consul did, he still turned his eyebrows in the same way, and the way he spoke. 

What he spoke of, too. 

The breaking point came when the Consul grabbed him from the shoulders, demanding to know what he wanted from him. Then, Medea saw him do something he hadn’t done in years: she heard the Consul speak Balkovian in public. Medea’s grasp with the language was enough to know he asked two things, two crucial things, that anyone who wasn’t Anatole couldn’t answer. 

Anatole answered the first one, something about a sword’s name, in his perfectly native Balkovian, looking pale and sickly-greenish. Cassiopeia tried to interject, but the Consul wouldn’t listen to anyone. Then the Consul asked his second question, something about ‘what was the tree’, or ‘what was the name of the tree’, and nothing else. Medea wasn’t sure. 

Anatole replied both of the questions: His first reply being ‘grapevine’, followed by a choked up ‘cult of Dionysus’; the second reply was ‘a beech tree’, looking like he was about to vomit after the words left his mouth. 

“Valeriy?” He said, as the Consul looked at him in horror, still holding him by the shoulders. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Anatole did pass out, and the Consul, blushing cherry red as he realised the whole scene had been in front of half the Court office at his care, yelled at them to know what the hell were they doing, if not call for someone to take this boy to a bed. After it, the Consul stormed off, Cassiopeia power-walking behind him as she demanded an explanation from her cousin, an explanation the Consul refused to give, waving dismissively at her.

“Don’t you wave like that at me, Valeriy, unlike you, I know my own damn nephew when I see him.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“Valeriy Radošević, I will call you however I damn please! Come back here!”

Medea didn’t stay to watch the rest. The Court was in unrest, it was so much that it had stirred the four other weirdos into watching and making the oddest commentary for anyone to hear. Medea didn’t need an in with them to know they knew something they all didn’t, and simply thought of the Court Staff too inconsequential for them to spare them half a thought.  

As if possessed by a thunderbolt, Medea stood up from where she was sitting as she ruminated. She needed answers, and she needed to talk about this to someone. She had an idea: if anyone she was close enough knew a considerable amount of death and ghosts, it was Amparo Cassano, but first she needed to talk to Leonore. They had supported each other in these 4 years Anatole had been dead, or presumed as much. Anything she did, it would be with Leonore. 

As she turned around after grabbing her coat, Leonore was calling her name. 

“Sabine is waiting for us at our place, they wanted to ask some questions first so I ran here. Octavia is trying to find Amparo, or anyone really. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Good,” she said, as she grabbed his arm and began walking out of the Palace, “so do I, but not here. The Courtiers are around, and they cannot be trusted.”

[vampiresuns]

You sent me a list, I send you a list - I and J for Artemisia; C, N, and W for Milenko; B, R, and S for Nana; and Z for Amparo? Thank you in advance for your worms

it is,,, worm time

A–Z of Character Mannerisms/Behaviours asks (accepting!)

Artemisia

I. Impression: What do other characters first think of your character, based on their body language and way of speaking? Is this first impression usually accurate?

It depends on the context.

Artemisia is a trained public orator and while she can be friendly, she likes to keep the workplace appearances if she's in work or academic environments. Good posture if a little closed off. When she isn't, however she tends to retreat into herself and it's very easy to tell the difference.

Artemisia inherited the Cassano stance, as well as Cassiopeia's cross arms when she's annoyed and it probably the most likely to tap your foot at you if she is. Most usual first impression is that she's a put together person who might be different levels of tight-up. Even when she's dealing with people there's this aura of put-togetherness and slight never letting go. She says she doesn't exude Cassano vibes but literally anyone who's been in contact with any Cassano ever can tell she's one by just looking at her.

J. Judge: Is your character quick to judge other characters on their mannerisms, or do they prefer to get to know someone before judging?

She tries not to. Even if she focuses on more meaningful actions, because that's the fair thing to do, she might still dislike someone out of the impression she has of them. How she treats people doesn't rely on this exclusively though, she does like to be fair.

Milan

C. Confidence: What mannerisms does your character have when they’re confident?

Swing to his walk, loose, confident smile, he crosses his arms similar to Anatole (one in front of him that he uses as a shoulder rest for the other) with very lose mannerism or straight up talking with his hands. He's letting the moment carry him, and he's in it and one with it.

N. Necklace: Does your character have mannerisms based on the things they wear, such as pushing up their glasses or checking their watch?

He tugs at his necklaces by the charm part and clicks the heels of his boots when he's about to stand up. He doesn't pick at his clothes too much, but he does pull his sleeves up if he's trying to concentrate and make sure his clothes are in place before he's about to change the activity he was doing or when he has to attend any sort of religious service because he wants to look presentable.

Speaking of that, whenever he has the habit of pressing his headwear (either his kippah or his taqiyah) against his head because he thinks he looks weird with headwear. According to him he doesn't have a "hat head".

W. Wiggle: How often does your character fidget? In what ways do they fidget?

Milenko will fidget if he's idle, bored, or talking to someone if he's nervous (case in which it often involves moving things around him in a seemingly uninterested manner. He'll pick them and move them without really thinking about it). If he's thinking while working with others he tends to shake his pen against his hand, or steeple his fingers, expand them and bend them, while he rests his forehead against the space between his index and his thumb. Also pulls his own hair. If he can swing his feet while sitting, he will.

If he stops moving all together, either he's going into fight or flight response, or the water magic kicked in.

Anatole

B. Bold: Does your character mock other people nonverbally? Have they ever gotten in trouble for making a sarcastic facial expression?

God, yes. Specially when he was younger, as he was a particularly argumentative teenager. He wasn't mean just expressive and argumentative, and he has the most mobile eyebrows known to man. He scrunches his nose and raises his upper lip in a snarl, his eye roll is Fear-of-God inducing, and if you've really done it, he does a sort of snort-snore while he rolls his eyes like he's a slot machine.

Don't give him your opinion if he has not asked and he doesn't know you, don't be harmfully and blatantly incompetent, do not speak over him, and he hates when people get in his personal space and do not back off when he asks. Bares repeating that purposeful incompetence and apathy make his blood boil, and if he's in Consul mode and you've tried him one to many times, you'll know he's not happy.

Otherwise, he waits until he's out of sight or people turn away. King of 'dropping the ruse' moments. I'll talk about that in S.

R. Relax: What mannerisms does your character have when they’re relaxed?

If engaging with someone: Weight on one side, slightly bending that knee, arm crossed over his front and using it as an elbow rest for his other hand. Chronic hand talker, signature slightly raised left eyebrow and a soft, cat-and-cream smile. Starts "dancing" in place like a videogame character and puts his hands on the back of his waist and pulls himself forward some. If he's sitting, he'll lean closer to the person he's talking with, even lean against them if they're physically close enough and emotionally close too.

If he's just on his own, he'll just. stop minding his posture so much, goes into idle raccoon considering his environment mode, or lies down with a leg bent and the other spread. Sit's like a 1920s gay in a soirée with other unspeakables.

S. Secret: Is your character good at communicating using nonverbal mannerisms? Do they have any “secret gestures” with other characters? If so, what?

He DOES. He's a man of languages and always ends up crafting inside cues with people he's really close. One of my favourites is how he'll run his fingers on the inner forearm of his partner until he can lace their fingers together when he wants attention.

Speaking of communicating nonverbally, when observing the Nana in the wild, you must know that when he doesn't want to give you information or he can tell you're trying to get a reaction out of him, he'll become an unreadable bastard. When he mentalises himself not to give an inch of a reaction to anyone he doesn't. This is a transferable skill, he uses it in a lot of scenarios.

Amparo

Z. Zest: How much does your character use movement to express their feelings? Do they jump up and down with excitement, or do they keep it to a slight smile?

Amparo's a case in this regard, because while she's expressive she also defaults to introversion because she is an introvert. Her smile if wide and contagious, and if she's excited and with someone, or excited with someone, she'll hug you if it's fine by you or grab you by your upper arms. Victory fists are also a feature as is grabbing her own face and squealing at times. Her anger is expressive, though her sadness is numb and reclusive. She's an actress and a dancer and movement is her main tool of work. You cannot impersonate or live without movement.

Yet, sometimes, specially when she's alone, her expression is mostly blank, unless she's talking to herself. If she's lost in her own head or her own feelings she has this far away posture as if her own head is her own world. She'll blink and realise 4 hours passed and she didn't even notice.

Sometimes, she plays at keeping things to herself just because she can. She's used to being on stage and when she's on stage her energy is being poured into something else, into this iteration of her being and her emotionality is another tool in her repertoire. So she likes to do the opposite and hold things that matter to her to herself, not because she can't open up but because she can choose not to.

Her window is always open so she can leave the room, if she so pleases.

[vampiresuns]

✨ Navigating Jules’ Arcanaverse ✨

As you might have noticed, I have a bit of a lore heavy arcanaverse, and I understand it can be hard to follow sometimes. Here’s a way to navigate it!

Jules’ Vesuvia follows the various generations of the Radošević-Cassano family. The R-C is a family created around my original Arcana apprentice, Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva (that’s his full name, but Anatole does the trick).

On one side, the Cassano are an old Vesuvian family, with no nobility titles, who despite this have held the Consul’s office within their ranks for give or take 500 years. On the other, the Radošević are a Balkovian (fantasy land inspired in former Yugoslavia) family of people of the arts and sciences.

They have a very specific vision of how things should be done. You can learn about them here. 

Both families have had ties of friendship for generations until those resulted in two marriages: The marriage of Anatole’s biological grandmother (a Cassano) to his biological grandfather (a Radošević) and the marriage of the former’s cousin (a Cassano too) to Anatole’s great uncle (a Radošević). The first marriage resulted in two children: Vlad Radoševic, Anatole’s father, and Valeriy “Valerius” Radošević, also known as Consul Valerius, as I headcanon him to be Anatole’s uncle.

The two brothers, however, weren’t raised by their parents but by the second aforementioned marriage. This is because their parents died when Vlad was 14 and Valeriy 4, in a partying accident.

The current generation the Julesverse follows is that of Anatole, Milenko Radošević-Tesfaye, Amparo Cassano, and Artemisia Cassano [bio pending].

Here’s a quick rundown of some names which come up the most:

Anatole, and his parents Vlad Radošević and Louisa De Silva, a latina doctor who was exiled from her country out of political reasons.

Anatole’s great uncle and his husband, who act as his grandfathers: Mircea Radošević and Florentino Cassano.

Milenko, and his mothers: Violeta Radošević and Aurora Tesfaye, a botanist and garden designer and an former archaeologist now consultant. Along them you may find Atanasie Radošević and Blasio — the former is Violeta’s twin brother and Milenko’s uncle, while the latter is Milenko’s grandfather and father of Violeta and Atanasie.

Violeta, Atanasie and Blasio are muslim. Aurora is jewish. Milenko was rised as both.

Amparo, and her parents Cassiopeia Cassano, a member of the Council of Vesuvia, and Iris Ravella.

Artemisia, who is Amparo’s sister. Hers and Amparo’s grandparents: Anzano and Atlia are sometimes mentioned.

The former Consuls: The consulship title post game is held by Anatole, whom inherited it from Valerius, who got it from Iovanus Cassano, his grandfather, who got it from Vitale Cassano, his father.

Valerian Cassano or Valerian Valperga, these are the same person. He is the widow of Iovanus Cassano, a necromancer, and former actor. He is past his 100s and is often featured as a guide for many of these characters.

I also have a headcanon list about how I imagine the Vesuvian Court to function, which you can find here. I worldbuild around it a lot.

The only non Radošević-Cassano who currently has an active storyline, is my OC J. C. Sanlaurento, aka Julianus ‘Jules’ Cleopatra Sanlaurento who exists exclusively within the intersection between my arcanaverse and @/apprenticealec‘s arcanaverse, as they are shipper with Saoirse, one of her pirate OCS. You can read the Jules x Saoirse series: Secrets of an Ancient Moon here.

Are there Any Other Radošević-Cassano related OCs I should know of? ✨

Because in this life we all have friends, there are some OCs who exist as secondary characters in the Vesuvia of the Radošević-Cassano, these are:

Paris De Silva, Louisa’s younger sister, aunt of Anatole, and former owner of ‘The Shop’. Hers was called The Moonstone and Jasmine.

Leonore Kaur and Medea Pryce — they were former apprentices of mine who no longer connect to the main Arcana storyline, but who remain in the universe as two of Anatole’s best friends. They met while they were at University. Leonore is a therapist, while Medea works in the Vesuvian Court, as part of it’s staff [see: Court Staff in this post]

Octavia Rey Dos Santos, a playwright by night and Coffee wench by day, she runs The Sphinx Coffeehouse, simply known as ‘The Sphinx’, which is owned by her family and is a meeting place for various artists and intellectuals of Vesuvia, such as Amparo’s, Anatole’s and Milenko’s combined friend circles. Octavia has a sibling, Sabine Rey Dos Santos, who is sometimes mentioned.

The rest of the Kaur family: Devdas (father) and Rajni (mother), and Leonore’s siblings, from eldest to youngest: Navneet, Sashi, Althea his twin sister, and the triplets: Isha, Vaishnavi and Ashok.

The Lemione Family, featuring as antagonists in Anatole’s youth, you can find Decimo Lemione, Anatole’s first boyfriend in the fic The Rising Tide, and you can find a later story about Emmanuel Lemione, Decimo’s brother here.

Know my inbox is always open if you wish to ask any questions about my Arcana verse.

If you want to know more about my OCs, I have a masterlist here ✨

If you want to Read about my OCs, you can find everything I’ve ever written separated by character and categories here ✨

I’m currently working on Anatole’s Apprentice Rewrite, which you can find here ✨

Thank you for reading! I and the Radošević-Cassano thank you for your time and your attention! Please remember to like and reblog my fic if you engage with it; writers are fandom content creators too!

[vampiresuns]

Over Here, Social Butterfly | Jamil x Valerius

Prompt 38.- Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss, requested by @into-the-daniverse, and when do I ever pass on an opportunity to write these two. 791 words.

Characters featured: Consul Valerius/Valeriy Radošević-Cassano, who is being a brat as per usual, and Jamil Parsa D’Oria (@into-the-daniverse)

Kissing prompts

Jamil had always been better at social functions than he himself was. Valeriy was good at public social functions as long as he treated them like a game, where different interactions earned him different points depending on his moods and disposition, as well as how much he considered said social function a waste of his time. Jamil, however, was naturally more outgoing than Val was; and nicer, that helped too; or better at entertaining small talk, and didn’t like to poke the embers of drama when he was starting to get dangerously bored. 

For years Valeriy had been self conscious about not having sufficient skills for the job he had been bestowed when Nono Iovanus died. It didn’t matter how much Cassiopeia opened up about her own struggles, it was hard for him not to feel self-conscious when he felt under-prepared. It was different now, for multiple reasons — both of the personal and the work-place kind, as Valeriy had discovered it was much more entertaining to hold social obligations he hadn’t come up with when he had no Consular responsibility attached. 

That hadn’t changed people talking drab at him, though. Not for the first, nor the last time, Val fought the urge to roll his eyes and wondered what would happen if he told the official he was talking to that he, personally, had no problem with him being here. Or his wife. 

Jamil locked eyes with him from the other side of the room just as Valeriy was about to give up, and do it anyway. Jamil raised his eyebrows at him, eyes lighting up as if he, Val, was the only thing worth paying attention in the room. Yet the look wasn’t just for flirting through the distance, and Val could tell. It was also a message, a reminder that he was seen: that Jamil knew what he had in mind and, as funny as it would be, it wouldn’t be kind to their host. So he shouldn’t. 

Valeriy gave the couple he was talking to a generic answer and raised an eyebrow back at Jamil. A challenge: so what if he didn’t do as Jamil suggested. The former Consul of Vesuvia watched his partner clear his throat, excuse himself to the people he was talking to and walk towards where he was. Val took a small drink out of his wine glass to prevent himself from the fluttering in his stomach that he got whenever Jamil looked at him, showing on his face. 

As soon as Jamil had Valeriy within his arm’s reach, he slid it across the middle of his back. This time, Val couldn’t help the blush on the apple of his cheeks. Jamil, ever the charming man, asked if he could please steal the “handsome Court Advisor here” for a moment or two, making sweet, generic apologies that made it hard to deny him much. 

Soon enough they were left to their own devices, in their own corner of the room. 

“Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes you are. Whatever you were going to tell that man, I’m sure it was very funny, but also not worth it.”

Valeriy hummed. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would seem almost uninterested, even annoyed. To Jamil, who did know him and knew how it looked when the person he was in private slipped through the (now more amiable) public persona he had, knew he was being flirted with. 

“I wouldn’t say it was completely useless. You pulled me out of that conversation, which was both dull as that man’s wit and useless as that director we saw last week, and it brought you back to me.”

Jamil laughed. “Aren’t you sweet when you want to be, huh?”

“Take that back, right now.”

Jamil laughed again, shaking his head. His lover’s joy was contagious, so Valeriy found himself smiling too. 

“Do you think anyone’s watching?”

“Maybe. They should mind their business.”

“Oh, I agree, because I’m going to kiss you.”

Jamil gently lifted Val’s chin with his knuckles when he composed himself, dropping his tone to a complicit whisper: “I love you.”

He pressed his lips against Valeriy’s only once, but that was enough. They both knew there would be plenty more as soon as they left, which, as far as Valeriy was concerned, was a moment that couldn’t come soon enough. As Jamil dropped his hand and stepped a little further away from him, not wanting to overwhelm him with public displays of affection, Valeriy hummed again. 

“You do know this will only make me want to be worse, don’t you?”

Jamil, once again, looked at him like he was the only person worth noticing in the room. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[vampiresuns]

Amparo Cassano

Introducing Anatole’s third cousin as an Arcana MC.

Name: Amparo Elira Cassano Ravella.

‘Amparo’ (Am-PA-ro) means shelter, refuge, while ‘Elira’ (Eh-lee-ra) means freedom. Her nicknames are:

Ampi

Lira (pronounced Leera)

Lele (pronounced Leh-Leh)

Family: She’s a Cassano. Her great grandparents are Anatole’s great great aunt and uncle.  

Her mother’s name is Cassiopeia — had Valerius not taken over as the Consul, Cas would’ve. Her other parent is Iris (they/them), whose family’s pleasant surprise at Iris marrying well soon turned into concern (that Iris had little care for) when they realised they were marrying into the Untitled Geese of Vesuvian families with public history.

She’s directly descended from Lucenzo and Octavia Cassano, the couple which met at an orgy.

She was born and raised in Vesuvia.

She is nicknamed after her great aunt: Amparo Mediavilla, a smuggler collectionist from Karnassos.

Favourite food: Roasted potatoes (with garlic and rosemary, literally the most important part if you ask her)

Favourite drink: Blood Orange Lemonade/Mint Julep

Favourite flower: Ranunculus

Birthday: August 16th

Age: 30

Zodiac:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Gemini

Ascendant: Scorpio

Patron Arcana: Death & Ace of Wands

Death

Upright: end of cycle, beginnings, change, metamorphosis, Reversed: fear of change, holding on, stagnation, decay

Ace of Wands

Upright: creation, willpower, inspiration, desire, Reversed: lack of energy, lack of passion, boredom

MBTI type: INFJ-A

Gender: Trans woman

Orientation: Bisexual

Appearance:

Tan/Medium dark skin tone.

Sculpt boxy brows and deep green eyes.

Dark brown/Black hair with 3c curls, though she sometimes styles it in waves or straight, depending on what she’s feeling like.

5′11

The closest we come to her fc is Lea T/Leandra Cerezo

Languages spoken: Vesuvian, Venterrean, Zadithi. She also speaks colloquial Prakran, and the analogues for Croatian and Spanish.

LI: Portia (and your OC if you’re bold enough)

Magical abilities: Though she fends herself with magic whether she died or not, Amparo fully tapped into her magical potential after she was resurrected in her Apprentice timeline.

She has both Animancy magic and Elemental magic (sand-glass)

She is able to trace energy and summon spirits, entities and those who have already passed, picking up on the energy they left when they were living.

She can summon larger amounts of spirits, but it takes a toll on her. However she cannot control these entities. She is a gate, a catalyser of energy or rather, a radar of it.

Her elemental magic is connected to the earth, specifically, she is able to turn soil into sand, and sand into glass, which she uses for a variety of purposes. She can also directly manipulate glass on itself.

She can build, out of other glass, a glass sword.

Personality/Trivia

She likes to assess situations before jumping into them, which does not guarantee her assessment will be previous, careful consideration at all times.

She is energetic, warm, generous, creative, likes to dig for the explanation behind things, though she accepts the explanation may not be rational. She’s passionate, clever, fairly adaptable, and intuitive.

For someone who picks up on energy, and connects with spirits, she is not superstitious in the slightest.

She generally has a sharp insight, analysis tends to come easy to her. Uses it the most for character studies and dancing, as she’s a ballerina.

She is trained to do both opera and dancing, though she prefers dancing.

Plays the guitar.

Fences.

She has little interest in explaining herself, and once she sets on what is the right thing to do, little can dissuade her or push her off track. Takes after the OG Amparo, her great aunt Amparo Mediavilla, in her daring, as in her honour code.

She is, however, dramatic and sometimes a little loud. More than once she can be recognised because her voice will come to you before she physically manifests.

Witty, a little petty — though it tends to come out as playful, sometimes it can come across in a push to go first (in place, not necessarily in self importance). Queen of ‘I licked it, so it’s mine’.

Reads runes and tarots, and also has an interest in languages. She’s not as good with languages as Anatole is. She says life gave him a magical advantage or otherwise she would’ve bested him. Anatole doesn’t doubt it.

Speaking of Anatole, she tackles him hello every time that she sees him. Doesn’t even issue a warning of “Get down Mr. Consul”

Tried to do it with Valerius once, she was chased.

Would, and has, climbed into balconies and windows.

Her dream role is Viola, in Twelfth Night.

She is, technically, not related to Milenko Radošević, the other Cassano-Radošević who lives in Vesuvia. She doesn’t care and treats him, and calls him, her cousin either way. They’re all within the same age range, and have a one for all, all for one attitude. Whenever one of them is the apprentice, the other two feel the loss very deeply: a table can stand with three legs, but not with three.

The three of them used to travel together through periods of time, as the three were privately tutored, though for different things.

She’s very invested in politics, though it’s through an entirely people-based perspective. She doesn’t know if she’d like to have the responsibility of a Consul.

The world is her oyster and she’s about to slurp it.

[vampiresuns]

Can I ask... for a letter from Valerius to Jamil pls in any mood you’d like

The letter comes in cream coloured envelope sealed with a wax seal with the shape of the Cassano emblem, having Jamil’s full name written on it with the left slanted, familiar and elegant handwriting of Valerius. With it, a wooden case, as big as a guitar, with the name of the manufacturer in it.

Dear Jamil,

Oh me, how long has it been since I wrote you a letter? Fairly long, I’m sure, though I insist this is not a call to revive those letters I sent you when we were children.

I do not see any need to drag this letter out, so I hope you know I have began mingling, as I believe you called it, with the ensemble of eccentrics I have for a family per your own unsolicited advice. Unsolicited as it was, I did it, so I do not think I have it in me to complain. Cassiopeia suggested Amparo and I did a trip to a fine instrument maker we are both acquainted with, since she herself cold not go with her daughter, and Amparo knew her not.

To my surprise she agreed, I suspect not to deny her mother, which is how I found what is inside the package attached to this letter. A fine, well achieved, beautiful item if you ask me; daring to betray myself I hope that when you play upon it’s strings, you think of me.

It is funny, however. Amparo did not know you played the guitar, despite she is well aware of the existence of your little group of musicians as she very much clings onto Anatole. It was heart warming to see her surprised face again, a nice change of scenery when she usually simply scowls at my direction.

Don’t ask me if I hate it, I am tired of it. Repentance is exhausting and less elegant than I would like. I am aware you will tell me I am doing a fine job of doing it with dignity and, my love, I would beg to disagree if begging wasn’t so unpalatable to me. Sometimes I fear I will never be forgiven, and others that I am simply through the pathetic pity attached to disappointment. It is dreadful.

There is no use to simmer in it, I suppose. At least not know, lest I sour your gift, which I do hope is to your liking.

You like stories, so shall I balance this out with a happier one? When we were young I remember you told me you’d compose me a song — something you never did, if I must remind you — and I remember arriving home that day and telling so to Fathers and Grandpapa so excitedly, if you can believe it. Mircea, who is deep down quite a romantic man, simply looked at Florentino as told him he had never offered to do such a thing.

He said. “Well, I cannot write you a song, but I can write you a financial report.”

I suppose he too is romantic in his own way.

I digressed too further, I’m afraid, thus exhausting the topic.

Ever yours,

Your Valerius.

[vampiresuns]

The Thousand Lives of Amparo Cassano

Last instalment for @arcana-echoes day 1: Hometown is Amparo

Remember you can always read more, or find a family tree guide in this post.

Amparo was only a girl when her great uncle Valerian and one of her parents, Iris, brought her to the Theatre — the Vesuvian Opera and Ballet, to be precise, which was in the border between Goldgrave and the Heart District. She had asked why not the Community Theatre, to which she was told: “When you’re older.”

Milenko’s grandfather, Blazio, had been composing an Opera for years, and he wanted Valerian’s professional opinion on it. So, the former darling of Vesuvian Operas had asked Iris and Lele if they wanted to come along.

That’s how she found herself on a gondola, watching the canals of Vesuvia go by as they made their way to Goldgrave. The story in itself was nothing new. Nor was the fascination by the vastness of it, the echoes of empty stages, the not-yet-suspended disbelief for the sake of the play. It would later make her go starry eyed, when she saw the whole thing completed, and it would make her ask Blazio and the rest of the directing crew to teach her everything, after Iris and Cassiopea, her mother, would give her permission to run backstage.

Many people had fallen in love with theatre in a similar way, and many people will after her. What marked her forever, was Valerian. It was watching her great uncle become someone else on stage, years of tiredness and sorrows which Amparo didn’t have any clue of at her tender age vanishing from his shoulders, to give life to someone he was not, someone whom, without him as a vessel, would’ve stayed dead in someone’s papers.

Vesuvia was full of people, both death and alive, people which Amparo caught in flashes of their lingering energy, and every person was a character. Not in a colloquial way but in a literary one — each person was a whole world on their own, worlds which interconnected in a web bigger than she will ever be. Vesuvia seemed like the tightest of nets, and oh what Amparo wouldn’t give to unweave it all, to follow every crook and cranny of it’s characters and see how they came alive.

She would hold Iris’ or Cassiopeia’s hand and wonder, she would see the movement of the people, the water and the bustling of the city itself, like it on itself was living, breathing lung. She would hold her grandparent Anzano’s hand to go to the temple on a given day, and see the theatricality of rites — the world was a stage, and she wanted to see how the die would be cast.

At night she would lie down in her bed in the Palazzo, and she would think about every single person which had ever lived in it, longing for them to tell her if any of them had ever lived, loved and cried in her bedroom. If she thought about it too hard, she’d make a window rattle and think ‘oh, I have made my own special effect’.

Life, death and movement intertwined bred a dancer and an actress. Life, death and movement personified in the people who surrounded her made her dive straight into that web, she herself becoming one of those characters in the great play of Vesuvia. At night, without her noticing, while she hugs her favourite doll — a ratty plushie of a dog — the ghost of her namesake, her great aunt Amparo Mediavilla sits on her bed and tucks her in.

“May you always have dreams, little one,” is what she says to her in dreams.

She told everyone the next morning about her dream, demanding a family performance to tell the story of a girl who could talk to people of the past, completely unaware of her own ability to do the same. She couldn’t wait for the next time she saw Anatole and Milenko: then she’d have a director and a writer, and the play would be complete.

Every person was a story, and every story was about the people in it. Her set changes, and she wonders what is the story that people will tell about the Cassano of Vesuvia, hoping she gets to have a role in that play.

[vampiresuns]

The Radošević-Cassano | Lore & Palazzo Inspiration

Some lore for the untitled geese family of Vesuvian High Society. As per usual, the family tree is here. With a quick run down on mostly everyone.

✴︎ General Headcanons

I call them the Radošević-Cassano because I keep Anatole in the centre of the family tree, and much of the Arcana lore I have revolves around him. This isn’t because everything is about him, but because he is the original OC, and hence the place all of this lore comes from.

In reality the Cassano of Vesuvia (how they’re actually known as) are an old Vesuvian family.

They hold no nobility titles, they’re just old, ingrained with the City, and simply have money. The surname Cassano isn’t that old, they’ve probably been the Cassano for less than what they’ve held the Consulship for, only having been known in this way since the last 300 to 250 years, give or take.

They’ve had a hold of the Consulship for a little longer than that. No one actually knows how they ended up with the Consul’s office.

Not even the Cassano themselves. There’s many rumours and the story itself is kind of a local legend at this point. No one remembers because sometimes stories are just oral tradition. Sometimes they just get lost. That’s how it is.

The Cassano surname comes from... a first name actually. Consul Cassano ruled Vesuvia in lieu of the Count they were Consul for, while said Count’s children grew up, becoming old enough to rule themselves.

They are a multicultural, multiethnic family. Different branches have different cultural backgrounds.

Yet their unity steams from 1. being the Addams Family of Vesuvia 2. The Consulship. A way for them to protect themselves versus other Courtiers down for their own power-grabs, or nobility which do not like that these respected and well known family have no titles made them create a network (inside and outside of the family) that allows them to protect themselves and their political position.

For a Cassano, it is not social standing which matters. It is political standing.

They’ve been friends with the Radošević family (less remarkable and less old) for around six or seven generations. The Radošević are the Addams Family of Balkovia. Fish, Water.

Both families favour cultivating a career, craft or academic pursuit. It doesn’t matter what at least you pursue it honestly.

Speaking of honest pursuits, one of their secrets for enduring is rejecting arranged marriages. Convenience marriages are one thing, if mutually consented by the future spouses, arranged marriages however are a recipe for owing other families favours. It helps get rid of families who simply want to marry with them solely because they’re interested in the political position.

Important things for both these families are: authenticity, professionalism (they do not conceive not working, hoarding land, property and wealth aren’t actual jobs), ambition, creativity, survival, fraternity and resourcefulness. Both of the families are very communal between each other, acting as extensions of each other way before they married between them.

They follow three principles: 1. Whatever happened to you, whatever life shot at you, you survived. A Cassano-Radošević is nothing if not enduring 2. Sometimes conventional problems needed to be solved through unconventional means. They are nothing if not resourceful. 3. What happens to one of us, happens to all of us. They are nothing if not community driven.

This sometimes made them out of touch with other parts of Vesuvian High-Society, especially certain kind of Noble families. I hc that the Consul is the link between the Count and the City, and is meant to represent the City in front of the Count. The Cassano have a very tightly knit relationship with the City, and while their position of privilege is undeniable they are more aware of the social condition and estate of the City than others of their same social circles.

Their tendency to work for the City in a usually self-less manner (which is encouraged), using their position to help others instead of stepping over them, coined the underlying belief that the Cassano are protectors of Vesuvia. They are the last line between something which wishes to harm the City and the people of Vesuvia. This is something which Anatole specially takes very seriously.

Other sayings or beliefs around them are: “Good Counts make their Consuls their friends, while Good Consuls have a Happy Marriage in their beds.” Given how long they’ve hold the Consul’s office, it is better for Vesuvian Counts (regardless of their origin) to befriend them rather than go against them. The second part stems from the Cassano tendency to marry for love, not out of arranged marriages.

“Nothing mortal can kill a Cassano” this began as a joke, simply because they’re a really sturdy family. While they were very close to disappearing in more than one occasion, they simply keep on living. They’re very petty about their vitality. This belief gets reaffirmed during any of the apprentice timelines, but also because of Valerian Cassano’s (Anatole’s great grandfather) longevity.

Few of them believe in the Arcana as a belief system, though a bunch of them are familiar with tarot. There’s a tendency to generate Death and Hierophant beneficiaries the most. The Radošević while not following the Arcana at all, and most of them being unfamiliar with them, have a tendency to generate beneficiaries of The Lovers, Strength and Magicians.

“When Death marries a Star nothing will bring that marriage down” comes from the most notorious Cassano marriages being between Death and Star beneficiaries, with the Star beneficiaries usually being foreign. Examples of this are Amparo Mediavilla (Star) and Vitale Cassano, former Consul (Death), Stelarius Cassano (former Consul, Death) and spouse (Star), and recently Amparo Cassano (Death) and Portia Devorakova (Star).

Magic in the family, manifesting in given individuals is rare, but not unseen. The Cassano seem to be coated by a halo of magical energy but not display magical abilities themselves for the most part. Some exceptions are Amparo Mediavilla, Lucenzo Cassano, Valerian Cassano, one of Florentino’s (Anatole’s grandfather) brothers – Nemesi Cassano, Amparo Cassano, Vlad Radošević (son of a Cassano, and Anatole’s father), Aelius Anatole Radošević, and Artemisia Cassano, sibling of Amparo.

People with magical abilities in the family tend to keep it reserved from the general public. The reasons vary. 

While the Cassano Personality is strong and produces an inter-generational imprint, the Cassano genes are not that strong. No one is entirely sure what a ‘Cassano face’ looks like because of their multicultural background, but apparently they all have expressive eyebrows.

However, most of the Cassano stand in the same way (the way Valerius stands). Valerius, Anatole, his father, Florentino, Amparo, Artemisia, Cassiopeia, and others all stand in the same way.

✴︎ The Radošević

They’re not that different from the Cassano. Can be described as a “A family of survivors, eccentrics, patrons of the arts, inventors and scientists. A family of academics full of anxieties about the world surrounding them, whose sorrows were scars they rarely showed. Private yet with an extensive, and international, circle of acquaintances who deemed them all charmingly strange on their best days; prideful, analytic, often with a drink in hand.”

The Cassano can be described in a similar way, they’re different manifestations of the same core after all. Other than them being the Addams family of the fantasy Balkans, there’s no much to add to them besides what I’ve already said.

While the most distinctive Cassano trait is probably spite, the most notorious Radošević trait is rage. Rage is easier than grief and they’ve all had complicated relationships with life. They are not violent or toxic as a family, however. While they are not perfect, it seems of little use to them to mistreat those who are in the same boat as you, going through the same hardships.

Probably the some of the most interesting people in this family are Elysian Radošević, Anatole’s great grandmother, a partisan, Neuma Radošević a famous painter, and well, Valeriy “Valerius” Radošević. This is my personal HC in the julesverse, but Valerius has more of a Radošević personality than a Cassano personality.

Anatole would be a nice mix of both of them, which is catalysed by his mother, Louisa De Silva.

As an aside, Anatole has his father’s and uncle’s brows, his father’s eyes, and while his face bone structure is a toss up, he has his mother’s lips and nose. He also has his mother’s hips and legs.

The Radošević have a vineyard in fantasy Istria. No, it’s not Valerius’ vineyard.

One of the reasons why Anatole would refuse all kind of title (and so would his uncle, actually, despite the way he acts) is because having a nobility title is one of the few reasons for your Balkovian citizenship to be revoked. Nobility has been abolished in Balkovia for decades, and it’s not making a comeback.

✴︎ The Palazzo

The Palazzo Cassano is where the star mark is. It is 12 minutes away from the Palace, and 18 minutes way from Goldgrave. It is one of the few properties the family has, and probably the most important.

For years, it has been open to the Vesuvian Public who, with previous appointment, might need its resources, such as the music room or the Cassano Library. Like I said before, the Cassano do not think owning things is a job, and like I said before they encourage finding an actual occupation, whatever it might be. Other properties tied to the Cassano, including the Radošević-Cassano, are: Mircea’s and Florentino’s house in Balkovia (Anatole’s grandfather’s), the Radošević Vineyard, Valerius’ vineyard, Blasio’s house (Milenko’s grandfather), Milenko’s apartment, Vlad’s and Louisa’s townhouse in Balkovia, where Anatole grew up, and Paris’ shop + apartment, as she leaves it to Amparo, Milenko and Anatole. 

The Palazzo holds a series of invaluable collections, from books, artefacts, painting, sculptures, swords and others. They are long standing patron of the arts, who sustain themselves on social connectivity, so it is not unheard of them sustaining balls for these purposes every now and then. The Palazzo is meant to be able to house the majority of the family in somewhat comfortable terms. It’s most famous room, is it’s winter garden, which is open to the Public on certain days.

The Palazzo does not have permanent staff. It’s an oddity. The only permanent positions are the one of personal secretary of the Consul — not a valet, not a servant — and the Chef. Most of the staff is divided in shifts.

The Palazzo doesn’t have a housekeeper, only a housekeeper assistant. The Palazzo housekeepers are Batiste Cassano (sister of Florentino, Anatole’s grandfather), Iris Ravella (Amparo’s parent), and post-game Valerius.

Some of the OC families they’re related to are the Ventura, the family of two high-priests in one of Vesuvia’s temples, the Valperga (Valerian’s family), a number of Venterrean family’s, the Radošević (obviously), and the Ravella, among others. All these families are part of the julesverse.

Canon families they are related to include the Devoraks, the Satrinava (Milenko, while not a Cassano by blood is a Cassano by upbringing, and the Cassano include all the Radošević as their own), and the Alnazar. 

As an addition, when @apprenticealec​ and I merge worlds, they are also related to the Parsa D’Orias, as they are to the El-Saieh, but they belong to @ilyamatic​.

The story of how they ended up with the Palazzo stirs as much rumours as how they ended up with the Consulship, but the truth is way less exciting. It came with the position, and they deliberately altered the papers so from Grant of the Count, became their own. It was finders keepers. The Palazzo is inspired by different buildings in different parts of the world, but primarily, it’s outside is inspired by the Palazzo Papadopoli, in Venice, Italy, the Palazzo Ca d’Oro, and Ca Dario

Here are some pictures of different things it takes inspiration from:

The Palazzo has a back door, which leads to a minor street — the lovers and close friends door — inspired by the Palazzo Bembo- Boldù. The only way to open this door is from the inside. To ring it, you have to turn the knob three times to the right.

Thank you for reading these untitled geese family lore ❤️

[vampiresuns]

Day 1: Hometown

This is the masterpost for @arcana-echoes​‘s first prompt Hometown, and it provides further insight besides the fics for the Trio I’ve posted.

Remember you can always read more about the Radošević-Cassano in this post, with their family tree.

Anatole | Letter To The Boy I Was, From The Man I Became, About The Love He Will Find

Anatole wasn’t primarily raised in Vesuvia, but in Bgraz, the second biggest city in the Democratic Federation of Balkovia, and the capital of its Federative district. He was born at dawn, at 5:47 am, the first day of November, during the first year of the Balkovian Wars. Balkovia is modelled after Yugoslavian territories, and Bgraz after Zagreb. This is because Anatole is a Latine-Slav, like me. Therefore, while it’s not an exact comparison, the Balkovian wars are modelled after the Former Yugoslavian wars, with everything they entailed, which I do not need to go into detail. This comes directly from my identity and the way I engage with it. 

Anatole used to live in a two stories flat in one of the more well-off, yet still central parts of the city with his parents — Vladislav, or Vlad for short (Valerius’ older brother) — and Louisa, his mother, who is coded as a Chilean expat.

The war on itself didn’t occur in Bgraz for the most part, except for one retaliation incident which made the family go to Vesuvia for a short while, though not immediately, as Anatole’s mother, Louisa, is a doctor and volunteered as a doctor during the war, to help civilians targeted during it, so after the attack on the city and her volunteering, they retreated to Vesuvia as a way to take a break, along with other members of the family, like Mircea, Anatole’s grandfather, who is married to a Vesuvian man, called Florentino Cassano.

Anatole’s first memory after the war is his parents wedding, as they had decided to get married after the war was over. He spent his early childhood bouncing and learning, between his parents flat, his grandparents home — an old house on some hills in the city, which had a big tree over it’s back door. It was Anatole’s favourite hanging spot, specially because he got to “surprise” his uncle Valeriy (Valerius), as he used to meet with his boyfriends with that door. Not because he wasn’t allowed to or anything, he’s just dramatic.

The love Anatole has for his home town is completely different than the love he has for Vesuvia. Vesuvia, one of his thirds, always occupied a place of wonder to him, when he was little, he used to say (decree) he would find a job that would allow him to live half the year in Balkovia, half in Vesuvia. However, two things happened: number one, Anatole, as a person, is a meeting point for three different cultural identities which makes him stand out without meaning to. If you consider what I’ve already said about Balkovia, the underlying and not so underlying tensions in it was something Anatole noticed very young, and it positioned him in certain ways towards his identity. While the Radošević are not directly linked to politics, and prefer majorly technical positions rather than political offices, they are heavily influenced by Anatole’s great grandmother, Elysian Radošević who used to be heavily involved with leftist partisans.

On top of that, Anatole is a Cassano. The Cassano, while being a Vesuvian High Family, have a very distinctive pro-city, pro-people outlook at life, and during Anatole’s upbringing, two of his close relatives, his great grandfather Iovanus, and his Uncle Valeriy, where Consuls of Vesuvia, neither of them having, politically speaking, the best relationship with the Countship, specially Iovanus. The saying about the Cassano is that they’re the last thing that will stand between the City and that which seeks to harm it, many og them occupying political offices which directly dealt with welfare and social security, which also deeply affected Anatole. 

Lastly, Anatole is latine, an identity he relates to through music — a lot of it protest music, folklorical new song or party music, which is what his mother listened to — and his mother’s personal history. Louisa is a woman who left her home country because she was sent away to study medicine by her parents because of her political views, which opposed the Dictatorship which her country was going through.

All of this has made him look at his own identity and his own home spaces, as a constant in between. This feeling of in-betweeness and sometimes diaspora (from where? From what? From whom?) was exacerbated when he began being privately tutored from the age 14 and on, as this included travelling around different parts of the world throughout most of the year. He travelled with his cousins, Amparo and Milenko, but they didn’t always travelled together, since their academic curriculums didn’t always align. At this time, he began spending half his summers in Vesuvia, half in Balkovia — where he also spent other education breaks, if the travelling schedule allowed it. His parents ended up visiting more, than he ended up going back to Balkovia.

This, and all the time he spent with his two Vesuvian-raised cousins made him start feeling more familiar with Vesuvia than Balkovia altogether.

When he was 17, he decided to follow the Cassano footsteps into Vesuvian politics. The rest is history.

Amparo | The Thousand Lives of Amparo Cassano

Amparo is the only daughter of Cassiopeia Cassano and Iris Ravella-Cassano. Cassiopea a Vesuvian politician and diplomat — she was the one originally intended to inherit the Consul’s office, not Valerius, but she stepped down out of having troubles with Valerius’ mother, Matilda (Vlad and Val weren’t raised by their parents, but by their uncles Mircea and Florentino), preferring to keep a minor office, and not ending up estranging herself from her family by virtue of arguing with her older cousin. On the other side, Iris was the youngest child of another prominent Vesuvian family, who did not wish to either follow the family trade or marry someone their family approved.

Amparo was raised in the Palazzo the Cassano inhabit, in the Heart District of Vesuvia.

Amparo as a kid was somehow rambunctious and well behaved, at the same time. She was curious and energetic, but she was also liked or tried to pay attention to what was happening around her, often making it a great source of inspiration.

Vesuvia, her hometown, ended up being the greatest inspiration of them all. She lived there until she was 15, when she began being privately tutored and toured around different prominent theatres for the sake of seasonal apprenticeships, which she did with Anatole and Milenko, when their schedules collided. As I’ve already mentioned they all prepared for different things, therefore their itineraries weren’t always the same. She was the one less affected by the travelling on itself, while it changed her, Amparo saw it as a necessary, character building step — as a way to cope and process changes, she made dancing performances in her own room, which she sometimes showed to her cousins. Through movement and stories she found catharsis, in a different way than Milenko: what she sought in these stories was the trace of evidence in them.

Imagine, she would think, all the stories she had to contribute to Vesuvia when she came back. Her relationship with her hometown is a discursive one: she acts, and when she acts for it, she lives a thousand lives which may touch upon others and by doing that, she changes her own.

Milenko | Baby, It’s A Wild World

Milenko, Anatole’s second cousin, was raised, primarily in Vesuvia. His grandfather Blasio and his spouse Ilnya Radošević lived in both Balkovia and Vesuvia on and off, until Ilnya was permanently offered a position as a palace scientist. Blasio is a composer and dramaturg, which is something he could do in both places. Ilnya died rather young, when them and Blasio’s children, Atanasie and Violeta, had a couple of years of age, and the Cassano offered to take them in.

The Cassano and the Radošević see their family cores as one single family, despite many of them are not being actually related, which comes from some of them having been friends before two of their branches married between families. So them being of the mentality of ‘something happens to one of us and it happens to all of us’, they offered to take them in while Blasio got back on his feet.

In the end, Blasio never fully left Vesuvia, taking it as a seat and becoming a notable dramaturg, lyricist and composer in Goldgrave. Blasio still visited his federative quarter of Balkovia (Blasio is coded to be Bosnian) with frequency, mostly to see his parents and his siblings, or those Radošević who were more rarely seen in Vesuvia. The visits stopped when the war in Balkovia began, except for one visit, and after that, while Violeta and Aurora, her wife, continued to visit with some frequency, it was more of a vacation thing than a permanent settling.

Milenko had the inverse process of Anatole about the Vesuvia-Balkovia relationship. For him it is a blend of places, which is impossible to describe and his in-betweeness is simply another item on the list. He asks less what does it mean to be and more what beauty can be taken from it. Both places are intertwined in his imagination, and often run more parallel, blending and reforming, and collapsing and rebuilding over and over again. Everything is, and it sure is a lot — Vesuvia is multicultural, chaotic, sometimes overcrowded, and has been through so much. It’s people are positively feral, and maybe that’s why Milenko thinks of home, and thinks of it as one amalgamation of things: because the energy of these two places, while different in species, belongs to the same genre.

One day, he’ll say about his hometown that when magic dies, Vesuvia will be the last place it will keep on living, completely unaware it will become the type of quote you see on pinterest all the time.

It’s why he came back to Vesuvia after his education related travels were done. While he lived in Venterre for some time, spent a questionable season in Nopal, and had to flee Macawi once, that “itness” as he calls it, is somewhere he’s only found in the sea of Balkovia and the streets of Vesuvia.

[vampiresuns]

Anatole’s Family Tree

this is Anatole’s family tree down to it’s basics, and you can have some info about everyone under the cut. I apologise for the intersecting lines, but family colours will help distinguish Florentino and Matilda from the Radošević they married.

hexagon is for he/him, circle for she/her, rounded edges for they/them

Vitale Cassano

Aquarius sun, Scorpio moon, Capricorn rising, Leo Mercury, Scorpio Mars, do NOT fuck with this man.

Former Consul of Vesuvia, responsible for the biggest (to date) expansions in the Vesuvian public space, the reason why Vesuvia was an attractive, rich location with solid public funding which ended up going to hell with Lucio’s administration, but that’s another story.

If he knew that his hard work would go to hell like it did, he would’ve made a coup to change the course of history.

Fuck around and find out in human form. His entire energy is condensed in this post. 

Had the art of delivering insults diplomatically down to an art, however. “You’re tacky and I hate you” would destroy a diplomatic relation; “I believe a less heterodox decision which might hold the weight of this agreement with less attached risk” doesn’t.

Friends with Dragoslav Radošević parents, as in those friends you call uncle when they’re not really related to you, but kind of are by default of closeness anyway. Befriended him because he was the most eccentric person in the room and he was bored.

Amparo Mediavilla

Is that even her actual family name? Who the hell are the Mediavilla? Where does her money come from? She says she’s from Karnassos but literally no one knows (she does, she just won’t tell). Has a brother named Seraphim Mediavilla, and that’s all you need to know.

Vitale was well aware she was probably a smuggler, but he likes her surprisingly present honour code anyway. Plus, she was fun, she was different, she was efficient. We stan.

She’s half the reason why the Cassano’s library in the Vesuvian Palazzo they inhabit in the Heart District is basically an open research centre for all of those travellers who seek knowledge. The Cassano have almost always have an open doors policy — the Consul acts in behalf of the people, and the people are allowed to go to the Consul. Amparo expanded and bettered that system, to the point it acted as Vesuvia’s public library and the biggest reason why the Palace didn’t quite have one — it was an understanding that it wasn’t needed. The only time the Consul’s Palazzo has been closed to the people of Vesuvia is during the plague. 

Longest lashes ever seen in a person.

Somehow already knew the Radošević, they liked her honest opinions and her distaste for explaining herself.

Luciano “Lucenzo” Cassano

Vitale’s baby brother, they had a significant age difference.

Known later as ‘Great Uncle Lucenzo’, literally no one called him Luciano but Vitale when he wanted him to stop doing something stupid. Not that Lucenzo thought his ideas were stupid, after all, this man was an architect and patron of the arts, and Goldgrave’s favourite loose canon ball.

He was not allowed to set a foot in Firent. When you asked him why, he kept changing the story.

Met his wife at an orgy. Yes, you read that right.

Octavia Cassano

Sweet lady, do no harm, take no shit, appreciates a good laugh in life.

Met Lucenzo at an orgy. She made a joke, and the person she was focusing on didn’t find it funny, but Lucenzo did.

Came from another prominent Vesuvian family. Worked with her BIL, Vitale, in developing social policy plans and judicial reforms in Veusuvia. Which also went to hell. If she was alive today, Portia would be her favourite and would literally fight to have her work with her.

Greenest eyes this side of the straight of seals.

Agrippina & Iovanus Cassano

Amparo’s and Vitale’s children, Agrippina is two years older than Iovanus.

Agrippina stepped down from becoming the Consul out of personal preference. They were a scholar and proficient historian, very talented in the art of mixing a good drink as well. Closest to the Prakran intellectual circles and is one of the notable alumni of the Prakran University. One of her later acquaintances, Rosario Aster, would eventually become Anatole’s tutor in History and Politics before he went to university himself.

Agrippina partly worked as a diplomat attaché, wasn’t a full on freedom fighter simply because there wasn’t an uprising to be one in. If Vitale is the MO of the Cassano, Lucenzo their spark, and Amparo their zest, Agrippina is, surprisingly, their political compass. Agrippina and Lucio weren’t on the best terms, they were in awful terms actually. The Cassano and him are simply like oil and water, it just doesn’t mix.

Iovanus took after Vitale and became the Consul. He was less of a surprise stew than the father, though, and inevitably, his best focus became damage control.

His entire vibe is moomin going on a murderous rage and then holding back. He’s folding the knife. For now. Iovanus was a pain in the ass to have as a predecessor in the position of Consul because this man constantly had his patience tested and his city funds used in things he didn’t want to do. Responsible, along with Agrippina, with the current functioning of the Council of Vesuvia and it’s final opening before Anatole’s times. What that composition and functioning is, is something I might, one day, decide to write down, but not today for the sake of staying on topic.

They’re the closest thing to the “spirit” of a tribune of the plebs I can think of, without like, either of them ending up dead like the Gracci brothers.

Cassandra Cassano

Finally some fucking scientist/mathematician. Mathematician wife of Agrippina. Did some political economy, but that hadn’t been invented yet, mostly liked numbers for the sake of numbers and finding out what she could do with them.

Having in mind that when I say ‘Vesuvian’ I mean solely location and original seat, not ethnicity, comes from a Vesuvian Family which settled in Venterre. Studied in Zadith and Prakra, but met Agrippina during some diplomatic function.

She was someone else’s date, and Agrippina was working with Iovanus is some diplomatic relations, and Agrippina literally said they were happy and willing to stay to seal the negotiations if Cassandra would go out with them. Cassandra was bored off her skin, and said yes.

They married by the end of the year.

Valerian Cassano

Iovanus’ husband. Renaissance man in the humanities department, very savant, a virtuoso, but his true passion was the performing arts. Darling of Vesuvian opera and theatre.

Met Iovanus through Lucenzo (patron of the arts, remember?). Iovanus went to every single of his plays for a year, made some very light advances as a “fan”, until Valerian asked him what his deal was. Iovanus was disarmed by gorgeous light amber eyes and witty snark, having no option but to admit his feelings.

Cemented the Cassano-Radošević relationship with Goldgrave. Most of the family thought it healthy for a dose of ‘get of your high-horse’ check.

Hated the Colosseum with a black tar vitriol.

He was Elysian Radošević’s (Anatole’s great grandmother on the Radošević side) best friend.

Matilda Cassano & Krešmir Radošević

Here’s where the story gets a bit sad. Inherited all of the snark of Valerian, but wanted nothing to do with her family’s ventures.

They just didn’t click. She always thought her fathers were very dedicated men, but needed to let loose a little. She was here for a fun time, not a long time. Which was sadly, literal.

For the longest time, it was an understanding that her cousin Cassiopeia would inherit the consulship from Iovanus, which Matilda didn’t love. She didn’t want the Consulship, but thought she was entitled to it. She could be the Consul and Cassiopeia do the job.

Cassiopeia did not like the idea, specially because within the Cassano it’s an open rule that the title falls on whomever willingly wants to take the mantel, number one. Number two, it came with an awareness of your social position and what good you could do with it, having in mind you weren’t really necessary for society. Someone else could be the Consul, the people, if given a chance, would govern themselves. It’s part of the Cassano mythos that surrounds them that they’re a protective line between misused political power and the people of Vesuvia. So, no, Matilda shouldn’t be the Consul.

Honestly, did Iovanus and Valerian spoil her too much? They have no clue. They just think she might be wired that way, because she always disliked it.

She married the fourth of the equivalent generation of the Radošević siblings, Krešmir Radošević.

Krešmir was a bit of a loose shot, doing “useful” things because he had to, not because he wanted to, so they took to each other like fish to water. They both wanted to have fun, the problem was they wanted to have fun with no respect of the world around them. Krešmir had middle child syndrome, which became worse after his youngest sibling, Ilnya, died at 27.

They had two children: Vladislav Radošević and Valeriy “Valerius” Radoševic.

Sadly, they passed away when Vlad was 14 and Val 4. They went on a holiday, leaving the kids with Mircea Radošević (Krešmir older brother) and Florentino Cassano (Matilda’s cousin and Mircea’s husband), as Iovanus and Valerian were in no place (out of grief) to take care of the children, and Mircea and Florentino were their de facto care takers already.

Now, onto the Radošević, so mind you, we’re going back a couple of generations.

Dragoslav Radošević

PRIME recipient of the Radošević tradition of breeding polymaths/”renaissance people”. This man spoke 6 languages, knew astronomy, economy, mathematics, accountancy, a bit of law and a whole lot of history. Excellent chess player.

No one’s exactly sure what the hell he did, he did too many things. Some sort of diplomacy was clearly his most usual job. Big friends with Agrippina, Cassandra and Iovanus. Everyone thought he’d marry Agrippina but both of them dry heaved at the possibility.

He was a bit of a character though. Very conspicuous man with particular rituals. Taciturn man, too, but overall amicable.

Had a very long, stable marriage with Elysian, his wife. Survived the death of two of their children. The death of Ilnya hit Dragoslav more than anyone would expect, but he had a very “let me grief in private” stance. The key to understand a Radošević is that their mentality is “whatever happens to you, whatever life throws at you, you find a way to survive it.”

His is a family of eccentrics, inventors, patron of the arts, humanists and scientists; when he says his family, he means the Cassano too.

No rumour ever mattered to any of them, and Dragoslav & Elysian were a prime example of it. Theirs is a family of academics full of anxieties about the world surrounding them, whose sorrows were scars they rarely showed. Private yet with an extensive, and international, circle of acquaintances who deemed them all charmingly strange on their best days; prideful, analytic, often with a drink in hand. 

Had a sister who had three partners, all of them women, too.

Elysian Radošević, nee Juriša

Wallachian by birth, first person in her family (aside from one aunt the Juriša did NOT speak about) to marry someone who wasn’t a Wallachian in a couple of generations. Not that she minded, everything I said about Drago, applies to Elysian.

She was a child of high society, bonded with Valerian, her best friend, out of their love for Operettas, though while Valerian went pro, she was an amateur — still, very good at it.

Excellent piano player, loved a well crafted, ingenious garden.

Beacon of the Radošević righteous rage. The Radošević are meant to be from a place called Balkovia, which is modelled after Yugoslavia, with many of the “bumps” in actual history colliding (A/N: Anatole is a latine-slav like me, for a reason). Elysian was the friend of artists and partisans, and had absolutely zero respect for certain kinds of leeches in political power. Zero national pride in this one, but at least, she came from a place were partisans stood (or used to) stand up to injustice.

In her dignified clothes with her amiable smile, she will bite ankles. Try her, you just try Elysian Radošević and she’ll remind you of all those people who ever said: They shall not pass.

Ambrozije Radošević

Diplomat, politician, eldest of Dragos and Ely’s children.

Inherited his father’s temperance but also had Elysian’s "Excuse Me, What The Fuck Is This Shit” attitude. Still, many times when he talked about his job, he had to stop his mother to go out and bite ankles.

Was the Radošević rage an answer against the grief of living and growing, against the cycle of dying and rebirth, and a cry of this is not enough, what I get is not enough? Maybe. Ambrozije liked to theorise about it.

Married Eloise Isaković and had two children: Kuzma and Lucija.

Best fencer of his generation.

Eloise Isaković

Didn’t take the Radošević surname solely to spite her family. She was disinherited for wanting to marry a Radošević. Her father said “if you want to marry then be a housewife for those freaks and I’ll take you out of University.”

The Radošević were like not in my fucking watch.

You bet Elysian and Dragoslav had words about that.

Percy Shelley, if Percy had been a woman, and also an anthropologist.

Will make femur jokes.

Kuzma & Lucija Radošević

Less in the centre of things than the rest of the family, out of virtue of “dear God, I get they’re my family but these people are fucking weird.”

The Addams energy was too much for them.

Kuzma is an alchemist and an inventor, moved to Zadith to study, never came back. He has two daughters and a wife, though.

Lucija became a diplomat for Balkovia, has a seat beyond the straight of seals. More traditional for diplomacy than Ambrozije by all means.

Very Dad please not now, but she does love the old man.

Married, never had children.

Neuma Radošević

Painter, a gay who can do maths, so that’ll have you knowing she’s stronger than you already. Perspective does not scare her.

Little does.

(Moths do, for some reason).

Claimed to have zero magical ability, but it was heavily disputed because how the hell did she paint like that.

Travelled a lot with her bohemian artist found family.

Never married.

Anatole loved watching her paint as a kid, she taught Valeriy to paint and about art as well. Big difference was Valeriy had a better hand for it than Anatole did, who literally can’t draw to save his skin.

Mircea’s favourite.

Mircea Radošević

Distinguished man, owns my heart.

“That was nOT POLITE”

Pretty level headed, has a big heart and a lot of will to help people. Just don’t be impolite, or he won’t like you.

Yes, he’s a libra.

An Architect, got to meet the other Architect in the family Lucenzo Cassano. That’s, in fact, how he met Florentino. Of course Lucenzo had an apprenticeship for Dragoslav son, but of course. The rest is history. Longest lasting marriage in both the Cassano and the Radošević tree by virtue of them gaving gotten together fairly young, and in the furture dying of a very, very old age.

He enjoyed travelling and the finer, beautiful things in life. If you want to equate his views to anyone in the real world, think about William Morris saying “I do not want art for a few; any more than education for a few; or freedom for a few.”

Aristically, somewhere between Gaudi and Morris.

Worked in several restoration projects both in Balkovia and Vesuvia.

Lived in Vesuvia on and off with Florentino and the children, which meant Vlad and Val were raised right between the vortex of everything that is the Cassano and the Radošević.

As polite and diplomatic that he is, he isn’t really a doormat, and if there’s anyone he would throw hands for it’s for his children (yes, he sees them as his children), and Anatole. Disrispect tha boy in front of him and he will throtle you and say you did it to yourself.

Florentino Cassano

Nicknamed Floren, Florence, Florens, Flolo, Tino, Tinino, Antonino.

Very responsible, big sense of family. Closest in personality to Vitale Cassano, his grandather.

Son of Agrippina and Cassandra, took after Cassandra’s love for numbers, but mixed it with Agrippina’s eye for politics and his Aunt Octavia’s knack for political economy (even if it had’t been invented yet).

 Financier and investor worked in the public sector, ran the coffer of the Council of Vesuvia for a while, but quitted out of management differences with certain people in Court and up. Still very willing to help people of all backgrounds manage their assets though.

A bit of a hardass, when Matilda and Krešmir died he said of course they would, as it was very in the likes of them to get so lost in the moment and their ideal world where they had no earhtly responsibilities to forget they had two young sons.

Still, when Vlad and Val first called him “Dad” or “Father”, respectively, he kinda cried big tears. Freaked Vlad out because he thought he had done something wrong. Florentino was quick to tell him he hadn’t.

Ilnya Radošević & Blasio Abadzić

Ilnya was another one of those Radošević that you weren’t exactly sure what the hell was it that they did, because they seemed to have a lot of eggs in different baskets. Was an astronomer, though.

Strongest intuition/six senth in the Radošević. Another of those cases where it was definitely magic (Ilnya was clairvoyant) but they all passed it off as having another explanation.

Was the most joyful, had the most contagious laughter and the quickest, most wicked sense of humour.

I’m not entire sure how Blasio and them met, they haven’t told me yet, but it was one of those meetings which changes your life forever.

Blasio is equally irreverent, if not more. This one post of a man playing the guitar and an old man dancing to it is the exact vibe Blasio had (he’s the old man dancing, the man playing the guitar would be his grandson Milenko — who’s Anatole’s cousin however many times removed).

They lived in Vesuvia. Ilnya was a court scientist. The Cassano library has a try globe map that was their work with a court cartographer. It has a map of the region, of the world, and of the stars for navigation purposes.

Ilnya died of sepsis at the age of 27, going on 28. To this day, no one knows exactly what took them out.

After Ilnya died, the Cassano offered to take Blasio and their twins Atanasie (pronounced Ah-ta-na-SY) and Violeta in with them to ease of the expences of raising two kids as a single father. He accepted.

Blasio was a composer and dramaturg. He took it as a personal goal not to let the joy escape from his life after becoming a widower. Said carrying on with joy and irreverence was his job, as if to preserve his spouse’s legacy.

Vladislav Radošević

Whatever name theme you sense with him and his wife, don’t @ me about it!!! I remade this entire family on a whim, I will take my headcanons about other things and build from them.

Eldest of the V² brothers, if people had soulmate marks, his soulmate would be his brother. Vlad has always felt responsible for him and, unlike him, remembers much of how they parents actually were or how carelessly negligent they could be. His defence against grief was becoming taciturn and “distancing” himself from things. It didn’t always really work for him, but he sure did try.

Grew up with the mistaken feeling that the rest of their families were taking care of him and his brother as a favour. He eventually wrapped his head around the idea that it wasn’t a favour.

Called Mircea and Florentino “Father”/”Dad” for the first time when he was 16, never went back. It wasn’t like he didn’t spent a lot of time being brought up by them due to his own parents absences.

Taciturn, remarkably inventive and intelligent, has a bit of trouble coming out of his shell. Prefers to observe, then pounce. Other than this, his main personality trait is “I love my wife, I love my son.”

An alchemist, works in what would be closest to biochemical engineering.

Mircea and Florens discovered he would be very suited for that field because when he was a kid he kept designing buildings to show Mircea. They clearly showed he had not a predisposition to become an architect, but whatever weird, inexplicable mazes he created always came with solutions attached and clever mechanisms.

He’s a problem solver, he’s just shaking years of bad mental health habits of his shoulders.

A scorpio and a cat person. Has two cats with Louisa, Kiki and Keke (their actual names are Cyrila and Cecilia).

Yes, his brother is also a scorpio, yes his son is also a scorpio. They get along, however.

Met Louisa in some sort of medical-alchemy conference/symposium (whatever that would be aplicable to the time, what matters to me is that you get the idea). Louisa didn’t like his attitude, called him out, and Vlad simply blinked, apologised, and did better.

A second apology and further conversations ended up with them falling in love.

If Vlad knows what allowing himself to love and live feels like, it is because of Louisa and Anatole.

He gets pegged.

Speaks five languages and won a regional fencing championship when he was in his early 20s. Still thinks his brother is better at fencing than he is.

Louisa De Silva

Latin American, eldest of three sisters (Paris and Alma being the other two De Silva sisters). She emmigrated from her native country to a. study medicine b. because there was a Dictatorship at the time, and her parents suspected Louisa would not keep quiet enough to guarantee her safety.

She personally swore never to go back until there were no active traces of said dictatorship left in her country. Nothing, not even the war that eventually rose up in Balkovia has made her change her mind, and probably nothing will. Once she is set on what is right, she is set.

Met Vlad as mentioned above. She didn’t appreciate his initial “careful” cynicism, but also didn’t believe he was as insufferable as most people thought he was. Someone with attention to detail, determination and who prefers to stand back from social situations, who hasn’t actually done anything nefarious, offensive or in bad taste isn’t a bad person.

Once she paid him a visit and he opened the door shirtless because he thought it was his brother, and Louisa almost wheezed in front of him.

“I’m going to sleep with Radošević” “But you don’t have to?” “No, no, I’m gonna.”

Speaks five languages.

Speaking of the war I mentioned: there was a war in Balkovia which began little before Anatole was born, and therefore around 29 years before the events of the game. At the time, Vlad and Louisa were already together, and planning to move to Vesuvia. However, the war began, Vlad felt torn about leaving and not helping, not that he wanted to admit it, and Louisa said “well, I did not leave a country ridden with injustice to passively see war crimes being committed.” As soon as she could after Anatole was born she volunteered as a field doctor.

And she is good. “Louisa De Silva” would absolutely resonate in Nazali’s or Julian’s fellow doctor knowledge level of notoriously good.

Aquarius sun, Saggitarius moon, she’s active, independent, unconventional, friendly, very understanding and highly humanitarian. Louisa loves people and cannot stand injustice. Loves and craves learning and is very sincere. She can be a bit impulsive, but she’s good at coming back from it.

Much of Anatole’s sense of social duty and sometimes even social fight is due to Louisa.

Vlad and Val call her Lulu. Anatole always calls her Mamá. Always. It doesn’t matter what language he’s speaking, she is his Mamá.

Louisa De Silva, santa patrona del pueblo que lucha.

Often dragged Vlad and Val into some of her schemes. Val loves to complain about it, but he actually adores his SIL.

Valeriy “Valerius” Radošević of the Cassano of Vesuvia, former Consul of Vesuvia and Court Advisor.

Here is where I would like to clarify and remind the (very patient) reader that this is my own interpretation of Canon, and I’ve triedto build with it from what little we were told of this specific character, Vesuvian lore, and the story I wanted to tell. I tried to do my best with the interpretation of the character, but know you’re in no obligation to adhere to my ideas.

Some people can call him Val, namely, his parents, his nephew, his SIL and his brother. Literally anyone else he will bite your head.

Inherited his mother’s and his namesakes witty snark, even if it’s not always witty.

I have the personal hc that Lucio cannot, for the life of him, pronounce slavic names, so Valeriy became Valerius, though his family already called him Valerius because it was the one nickname he accepted.

However, for the most part, his family calls him Valeriy, in contrast to Vesuvian citizens, who call him Valerius.

Doesn’t remeber his parents, and doesn’t like to think about them. It is very tragic that they died, but they left him, and he has no time for people like that. His brother, however, had always been there. So have been Mircea and Florentino.

I’ve always hc he had one big love in his youth, but couldn’t actually stand the idea of an empty marriage based on status and decided to never marry.

Wasn’t always this high and mighty. He has always been a complicated man, with complicated tastes and even a snob, but he was raised in two multicultural families, based in two multicultural cities. What I personally hc happening here is that he truly hates his job. He does like the sense of status and the power that comes with it, but the responsibility? The state of things when he took over from Iovanus? The paperwork? The staleness of it all? And to do it for a city that ate itself up?

He would’ve given his cousin Cassiopeia his left arm to take the position for him, but in the end, he was subject of what he thought everyone expectations were. He feared more not being enough in the eyes of his grandfather, who did not want to repeat the same mistakes he did with Matilda, than saying “Nono Iovanus I actually hate this job with all my soul.”

But then again, the power attached to it.

I fully believe that if you had given Valerius a position that was, say, a cultural authority of sorts? Where he could focus on the arts, theatre, food and those sort of things? He would’ve thrived. The city would’ve been leagues away from where it was if he would’ve been allowed to solely focus on art.

Instead, he has to fix people’s problems, and he doesn’t want to. It isn’t that he doesn’t care in the slightest — he does, in the distant sense of people should not be dying left and right, and cities should be ran by competent Statespeople. Of course he believes that! He’s a Radošević and a Cassano of Vesuvia, who do you take him for. It was his family that 500 years ago stepped up into the position due to their sheer excellence, of course he believes that.

Just for the love of everything you deem holy, do not fucking leave that fixing to him. He’s begging you, and he doesn’t actually beg

(At least that’s what he says in public)

 While he doesn’t quite like magic, or rather, doesn’t quite understand it and takes a lot of self proclaimed magicians as frauds (and an insult to good peope’s intelligence), he’s never had a judgamanetal attitude towards Anatole’s magical sensitivies. Most of what he sees about it is his inordinate aptitude for languages. He tends to take it as his nephew being simply Better, because if this man is something, that thing is proud.

He eases off after the events of the game where he can simply be a court advisor and give himself a chance. Not that it excuses or ammends any mistake that he committed, but it’s a place to start. He can do that, he thinks.

His was the decision to close during the Plague, and for the first time, the Palazzo the Cassano inhabit in the Heart District to the City.

His grandafther Valerian was (is) still alive while he’s the Consul, and tried to reach out to help him when he began to do deals with the Devil many times, but Valerius sucks at letting people help him. Officially worse than his brother at it.

He is, however, the best fencer in the family, and he is one of the best singers, he just doesn’t do any of both much in front of people. What he does when he’s at home is none of your business.

While I could feel pages of headcanons about this man, but I will try to stay on topic, and mostly address my previous post about the subject of Valerius’ and Anatole’s relationship, which, now that I’ve reworked the families into a story I do feel excited to tell most of it no longer applies.

The timeline is p much the same, both with Valerius, and with Anatole travelling with tutors to study and visiting whenever he could.

His feelings when Anatole dies stay the same. The difference is Anatole's family does know he dies when he stands as the Apprentice (normally, he doesn’t, he just stands as an Arcana OC). During the time of the plague, Vlad and Louisa travelled to Vesuvia to help, so they do know their son died.

What ends up breaking Val is not only losing his nephew (and again for what) but also seeing his brother and his SIL completely break. It was his job to protect him, and he didn't do it. He wasn’t enough.

I headcanon that when Anatole doesn’t die, one of his deals with the Devil is that no harm comes (from the Court) to Anatole. I also hc that for someone who has such pride in his intellect (which is there, he is pretty smart) he did rather unsuitable dealings with the Devil, by which I mean he dealt in really awful terms that he, himself, would’ve berated anyone else to have done out of their sheer idiocy of not fully using their leverage.

The main difference with the post is that Anatole and Valerius do not suffer their family anymore. The Radošević and the Cassano are opinionated and very "If something happens to one of us, it happens to all of us" but they're good, eccentric, people-leaning people, albeit wealthy. Hence, why I personally hc that what happens here is that he hates the job but loves the status, but the status carries the responsibility of people asking him for things, and he doesn’t want to be asked for things. He will be in his room if you need him, and please do not need him.

(In Anatole’s case, it's finding his place in the world. It’s a journey of diaspora and of becoming. To win, you must first know yourself)

Vlad and Louisa adore him to bits still, complicated as he is.

Anatole and Valerius do fight in some of the LI routes and during those three years before the game begins.

Everything else stands.

Atanasie and Violeta Radošević, and Aurora Radošević

Thank you with bearing with me so far, I love you.

Atanasie and Violeta are twins, cousins of Vlad and Valeriy, children of Ilnya and Blasio, the happy eccentric duo.

Grew up right amid the Radošević and the Cassano, and it really goddamn shows. They’re en aunt and uncle/counsins saying criptic things with a drink in hand, and you’re not entirely sure if they’re portetns of doom or not, but good for them!

Best violinists in the family though. Play the most instruments as well, as Blasio was a composer and multi-instrumentalist. Neither of them are professional musicians though.

Atanasie is a traveller and explorer, think of the eccentric explorer archetype without the Colonialism nor the grave robbing. Would, objectively, get along the best with Julian. He’s another of those people who knows a lot of things about different topics, but now like cursed/forbidden/borderline illegal things.

If Amparo Mediavilla had been alive to know him, she would’ve been really proud.

Violeta is a botanist and garden designer. The palace did ask her to work with them, but she went No ❤️. She, however, is responsible for the current design of the Palazzo’s winter garden, which in her biased yet correct opinion is the best room in it.

High femme eccentric queen, married Aurora who used to travel around with Atanasie. She’s an archeologist.

They have one son, Milenko, who is... an entire party.

Aelius Anatole Radoševic De Silva, of the Cassano of Vesuvia, former secretary of the Council of Vesuvia, and Consul of Vesuvia

Good ol’ Nana

Technically, that would be his entire ass title (which he correctly insists it’s a public office, not a nobiliary title, because a Consul is a public servant, and people just got mad with power for to long)

He hates it.

Please just call him Anatole, or Aelius if you’re not that daring.

I’m going to use this to talk a bit about Consul Anatole: along with Nadia, he introduced a series of social reforms, solidified them, and changed a lot of aspects of the way in which the City was run, in order to make corruption harder (Nana’s pride and joy are his Anti-Corruption directives) and to protect the reform on themsleves.

Adamantly against having a statue of him. Which was respected while he was alive, but a couple of generations down, they eventually built one, near the main square.

It points east, which is where the sun rises. It’s a metaphor for hope, and for Vesuvia to have the resilence to await for the dawn.

Milenko Radošević

His vibe is this picture of Javier Botet, meeting this meme, and the video of the old man and the younger man playing guitar, where he would be playing guitar. Oh, also, this picture of a guy floating in the Zadar floods of 2017, from this post. If this was a modern AU rest assured that WOULD be Milenko, and he doesn’t even live in Zadar.

When you see internet memes about how Slavs/people from the Adriatic are kind of weird, I want you to think of Milenko.

So yes, you would see him on a floatie down the canals of Vesuvia.

He’s a journalist and a writer, which has nothing to do with him being a character.

Tried to summon the Devil to show the Devil isn’t real. After the events of the game, if Anatole is involved in defeating the devil, he’s always offended he didn’t bring him along, he had points to prove.

Plays the guitar and the double bass.

Looks like an 80s goth, and we will not question how that’s mildly anachronistic. His favourite band would be The Cure. Also would have a soft spot for The Cranberries which he definitely took from Anatole.

When Belle and Sebastian wrote “colour my life with the chaos of trouble” in the Boy With The Arab Strap they were talking specifically about Milenko.

Chugs respect women juice harder than most people. If he chokes on it, then that’s how he dies.

Not allowed in several bars, has at least one sworn enemy in the Vesuvian nobility.

Him, Amparo Cassano (she’s down below) and Anatole are all in the same age range, and they’re a force to be reckon with.

Thank you for staying with me up to this point! We’re about to make another jump back. We’re following Lucenzo Cassano’s line now.

Atilia Cassano & Anzano Ventura

Atilia is the child of Lucenzo and Octavia. Closest thing to a community organiser. Need someone to organise a party? Atilia. A meeting? Atilia. To allocate human resources to enact some policy? Atilia.

Anzano is the son of two High Priests in Vesuvia from one of the temples in the Temple District, which is how they met Atilia.

Anzano doesn’t have a fixed profession, and takes things up according to their interests. Which are varied.

Cares more about their cat than they do about some people, both of them. Neither of them are the kind to wish ill on other people, but if ill falls on you as consequences of your actions, then that’s on you buddy.

Some of the things Anzano Ventura has said, without context: “My heart is green with hope.”

“Figure out what fortune has to hand you and spit twice in the face of the Gods.” It’s a saying from where they’re originally from. They’ve never properly explained what it means.

“These are not gentle waters we are sailing.” There is context for this one. They said this when the Plague began to surface in Vesuvia.

Atilia died a couple years before Anzano, who died of Plague.

This is how Anzano would’ve looked like in his early twenties.

Cassiopeia Cassano & Iris Ravella

If Valerius had not become the Consul, it would’ve fell on Cassiopeia. She was a Vesuvian diplomat and politician, member of the Council. Would’ve become the Consul anyway, but, respecting Iovanus’ wishes and trusting (correctly or not, it’s up to you) Valeriy’s potential, stepped aside.

Truly did not resent Matilda for harbouring peculiar feelings against her because Iovanus didn’t want to let her have the Consulship. Nor she did on Valeriy for his mistakes.

Iris comes from another prominent Vesuvian family. Theirs is a family of merchants, based in Centre City, who weren’t particularly thrilled about Iris marrying a Cassano.

Iris cared very little. They did it anyway.

Amparo Cassano

Last but not ever least.

Ballet dancer, fencer, deeply invested in politics. Amparo takes after the OG Amparo, her great aunt Amparo Mediavilla, in her daring, often without explanation ways, as she does in her honour code.

Sarcastic wit, a little bit petty. Would be one of those people who go “I licked it, so it’s mine.”

Takes up an interest in languages, as well as runes and tarot, though she’s not as good with languages as Anatole is. She says life gave him a magical advantage or otherwise she would’ve bested him. Anatole doesn’t doubt it.

Would climb to your window to impress you, with a sword to her hip. She’s that kind of bi.

Would definitely dance to Caramelldansen, and so would Milenko. Anatole would Not, but would look at Amparo dead in the eye and dance it when they’re alone, because he knows no one will believe her.

She calls him a ‘motherfucker’, to which he replies: “Do I LOOK like Oedipus to you.”

Loud mouthed, but with a good heart.

While her an Milenko are, technically, not actually related, they act like they are. They don’t care that’s not how it works.

Comrade Cassano? Comrade Cassano.

The world is her oyster and she’s about to slurp it.

Thank you so much for sticking with me to the end of this list. Means the world to me, as I’m happy to share the Radošević-Cassano with anyone who is willing to listen.

[vampiresuns]

9 from the non-apprentice asks for.... however many of the R-C you want to answer for 👀

I’ll do as many as I have figured out ✨

9. Do they have a patron arcana? If so, what, and why?

As a refresh, the main 4′s patrons are:

Amparo - Death & Ace of Wands; rebirth, death itself and the energy it leaves + creation and willpower. It makes sense for Lady Death, the darling of Vesuvian theatre.

Anatole - Strength & Ace of Swords - inner strength, focus and compassion meets breakthroughs and a clear mind. Fitting for someone who is an embodiment of hope and who will dare to do the impossible twice.

Milenko - The Moon & Knight of Cups; this is another theme based chosen patrons. He uses illusions to speak of feelings which can only be understood by intuition, coming out of the water to distinguish what is real and what is fake, seeing sometimes the horror of it all. Many things lie in the night, but if you follow your heart, you might as well strike the right cord.

Artemisia - Justice. Art is Justice’s child through and through. She is meant to bring balance to the previous three: Spirit, power and creation all can turn askew if they do not have justice. Spirit, without justice, is careless and abrasive, it sees not the humanity in others; power without justice loses its north and becomes despotic; creation without justice lies condemned to be manipulated from its original meaning, losing all sense of self.

As for the rest, excluding Val, since technically Val is a canon character whom I’ve given a particular interpretation:

Vlad & Louisa — The Lovers. Not that they know this, and I could give them other cards with no problem and the meaning would not be lost. Louisa could be The World and the Six of Swords. The exiled student who left her life behind for something that made her whole. Vlad could be The Magician but specially the Nine of Swords, a man who only hopes in reverse. But The Lovers is also about making decisions and standing up against something. It is a card of meaningful connections and choices, openness to communication and honouring who you will be in this timeline. And if that is not Vlad & Louisa, the man who chose to create things and take care of others over the grief inside him, and the woman who chose to love and help the world despite her own family sent her away from her own land, which did not love her back? Yeah. They get the Lovers.

Amparo Mediavilla - The Star. You cannot become a collector, smuggler and overall nuance without some hope, faith and youth under your sleeve. No challenge is hard enough, answers always come, and Death (wink wonk) always falls at your feet.

Vitale Cassano - Death. It is a saying that when Death marries a Star no one can bring that marriage down, and while I’m sure there were other Death-Star combinations in Cassano and Cassano adjacent marriages, this one is the beacon for the living generations of them. So Vitale doesn’t only get Death for a thematic reason, but also because have you met this man. This man brought the last biggest expansion of culture, arts, science and the public space to Vesuvia, reformed a number of institutions, and consolidated the Palazzo Cassano as a place open to the people (along with Amparo). What no longer serves us die, so we can continue to live, and no one understood this better then Vitale.

Lucenzo Cassano - The Sun. This man was a canon ball, a Gaudí levels of funky architect and overall, a whole firework. He met his wife at an orgy, yeah he’s the Sun.

Octavia Cassano - Temperance. Do no harm, take absolutely no shit.

Agrippina Cassano - Strength.

Iovanus Cassano - The Hierophant.

Valerian Cassano - Death. Though Death is his patron, their connection is with another God of Death, who lives his own cycle of Death and Rebirth and is an absolutely terrifying in the sublime, odd gum sensation way, and Valerian has seen it five times in his life, and that’s enough until he finally decides to die himself.

Anzano Ventura - The Moon.

Atilia Cassano  - The Sun.

Eloise Isaković-Radošević - The Fool.

Ambrozije Radošević - The Hermit.

Neuma Radošević - The Chariot. I am not expanding on this one, because I don’t have fully cooked Lore (it’s still in the oven, and the recipe has not been made standard yet), but I almost accidentally wrote The Lesbians, instead of The Chariot.

Matilda Cassano-Radošević - The Tower

Cassiopeia Cassano -  Justice & Four of Wands

Iris Ravella - Eight of Pentacles & The High-Priestess

Paris De Silva  - The Fool.

[vampiresuns]

Day 2: Parents

Tackling @arcana-echoes‘s day 2 prompt: Parents, and today we’re going master post first, and fics second. We only get Anatole today as well because I’m out of brain juice. Fics + Amparo and Milenko coming eventually.

As per usual, you can do a quick check on the who is who in the Radošević-Cassano family tree, here.

Anatole | Vlad Radošević & Louisa De Silva

Louisa is the eldest of three sisters, she ended up in the same corner of the world as Vesuvia because she was sent away to study medicine. Yes, sent away. She entered university at 17, and by 19 — the age she was sent away — her vocal opinions against the dictatorial government of her home country had become loud enough for potential harm to come upon her. She, however, wasn’t sent away solely for safety: she was also sent away because her loud political opinions weren’t seen as suitable.

She never looked back, and swore off never to live in her home country again as long as vestiges of the dictatorship existed. Still, she never lost contact, and eventually, one of her sisters, Paris, moved into Vesuvia for her own reasons.

Louisa studied in Prakra, Zadith and Venterre, eventually going to Balkovia for academic reasons with a group of doctors, where she met Vlad.

Vladislav ‘Vlad’ Radošević grew up to become an alchemist, who works in what is very close to biochemical engineering. They met because Louisa’s group got paired with the research collective Vlad founded, and during one conversation Vlad made an off hand comment which sounded rude to Louisa, and she chewed him up.

He blinked, apologised, and adjusted his behaviour. He apologised again later, got coffee, then drinks, and then Louisa decided she was going to sleep with Vlad Radošević. She didn’t have to, she knew, but she was gonna.

They were making plans for Vlad to follow Louisa, when the war in Balkovia began. Louisa, who was already pregnant, insisted in staying because it was clearly important for Vlad to help, and because she said she didn’t leave one unjust situation in her homeland, only to watch injustice happen before her and not to anything. Vlad would follow her anywhere and everywhere.

Vlad was the most stressed of the too about parenthood. His parents, Krešmir Radošvić and Matilda Cassano — the daughter of the Vesuvian Consul at the time, Iovanus Cassano — where deeply neglectful and irresponsible, which resulted in Vlad and his brother Valeriy (Valerius) to spend more time with Mircea and Florentino, their uncles. Mircea was Krešmir’s brother, and Florentino was Matilda’s cousin. The family lived in Balkovia, and not in Vesuvia, because of a fallout between Matilda and Iovanus, about who would succeed him as the Consul, where Iovanus did not wish to pass it on to Matilda, and would’ve prefered Cassiopeia, Amparo’s mother, to succeed him. This was because Matilda did not have the interest nor the capacity, nor the will to make the effort to become the Consul, but felt entitled to it.

Product of their own irresponsibility Vlad’s parents died when he was 14 and Valerius 5, and moved permanently with Mircea and Florentino.

His fear was not, however, because he didn’t have positive parental roles. He did: if you ask the brothers who their parents are, they will not hesitate to say their fathers are Mircea and Florentino. They’re Dad and Dad, and Valerius doesn’t really remember his Krešmir and Matilda all that much — however, Vlad does remember, and his fears came from repeating their pattern.

Louisa understood, because while she loves her parents, she has a complicated relationship with them, feeling like she was always slightly constrained one way or the other, and for a very long time she resented them about the way she was sent away to study. No one likes being forcefully expatriated. They decided to raise a child who would not be stifled by any of the things which stifled them. If you ask Anatole, they did a good job.

Louisa is freer than the laws men make, gentle, wise, sometimes impulsive, headstrong, determined and compassionate. She rarely got angry, was more of the kind of “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed” though she never made Anatole feel like he was a disappointing son, on the contrary. Her and Nana used to dance together in the kitchen all the time.

Vlad is more reserved, taciturn, loyal, observant, a huge nerd, analytical and has a quick temper. He likes to do things well, so he applies himself almost obsessively to tasks and often approached fatherhood like that. Vlad often says if he knows what love is, is because Anatole and Louisa exist, as they are the two most important people in his life. The third is his brother Valerius, of whom he is very protective of, and who, in return, says Vlad as a father reminds him very much of how he was when they were growing up.

Anatole was a very argumentative teenager and while not as taciturn as his father, which caused some tension with his parents but never to a breaking point — their relationship has always been exceedingly good, Anatole writing often to them when he left, and them visiting often. Anatole was a case of your local teenager feeling bigger than his body, and smaller than everyone else, living in a weird in between of changes, most of which he needed his parents there, but he couldn’t have them there, because he was travelling, which is partly why he sometimes ended up vomiting his feelings out in arguments.

Most notably once, when he was seven, Anatole convinced his father to keep giving him dessert and he ended up vomiting. Louisa wasn’t happy, but she does say it describes her son and her husband perfectly: when Anatole wants something, he will find a way to get it, and usually he won’t even have to trick you into it, he’ll just be his charming, sun-like self, and good luck to you.

As for her husband... he calls Anatole his ‘Lily’ or ‘Lilu’, which he got from “little”. That’s all you need to know about him, his science goth looks, RBF and rapier mean nothing compared to that.