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personal-reporter · 1 year ago

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Maria Callas, voce senza tempo

Una voce che è diventata leggenda…. Maria Callas, nata Maria Anna Cecilia Sofia Kalogeropoulos, nacque il 2 dicembre 1923 a New York, da Georges Kalogheropoulos e Evangelia Dimitriadis, di origine greca. Fin da piccola Maria era in competizione con la sorella maggiore, Jakinthy detta Jackie, che godeva di ogni privilegio, tra i quali quello di prendere lezioni di canto e pianoforte. Maria però in poco tempo riuscì ad imparare quello che la sorella apprendeva con tanta difficoltà e a soli undici anni partecipò alla trasmissione radiofonica L'ora del dilettante, cantando La Paloma e vincendo il secondo premio. In seguito Maria coltivò la passione per il bel canto anche quando la madre, dopo il divorzio, decise di ritornare in Grecia, portandola con sé. Nel 1937 entrò al Conservatorio di Atene e, contemporaneamente, si perfezionò nel greco e nel francese, mentre viveva gli anni dell'occupazione a cui seguì, dopo la guerra, una esistenza finalmente tranquilla e agiata. I primi successi furono proprio in Grecia con Cavalleria Rusticana nel ruolo di Santuzza e poi Tosca, suo cavallo di battaglia. La Callas decise poi di tornare a New York per rivedere il padre, ma per lei furono due anni non particolarmente felici che la spinsero, ancora una volta, a fuggire il 27 giugno 1947 verso l'Italia, con Luisa Bagarotzy, moglie di un impresario americano, e il cantante Nicola Rossi-Lemeni. A Verona Maria conobbe, Giovanni Battista Meneghini, amante delle opere d'arte e della buona tavola, che sposò il 21 aprile 1949. L'Italia portò fortuna alla giovane soprano e Verona, Milano, Venezia ebbero il privilegio di sentire le sue Gioconda, Tristano e Isotta, Norma, I Puritani, Aida, I Vespri siciliani, Il Trovatore e così via. Maria strinse amicizie importanti con Antonio Ghiringhelli, sovrintendente della Scala, Wally e Arturo Toscanini, che rimase stupito e meravigliato dalla voce del grande soprano tanto che avrebbe voluto dirigerla nel Macbeth. Nuovi amori, nuove passioni arrivarono nella vita della Callas come Luchino Visconti, che la diresse a Milano, nel 1954, nella Vestale di Spontini, Pasolini, Zeffirelli e Giuseppe di Stefano. La Callas visse trionfi in tutto il mondo tra Londra, Vienna, Berlino, Amburgo, Stoccarda, Parigi, New York (Metropolitan), Chicago, Philadelphia, Dallas, Kansas City. Nel 1959 la soprano lasciò il marito e, grazie all'amica Elsa Maxwell, miliardaria americana, conobbe l'armatore greco Aristotele Onassis, con cui visse un’intensa ma drammatica storia d’amore. Dopo il 1964 iniziò il declino della cantante, quando Onassis l'abbandonò per Jacqueline Kennedy. La voce della Callas cominciò a perdere smalto e intensità, così si ritirò dal mondo in un appartamento a Parigi. Maria morì il 16 settembre 1977 a soli 53 anni, con accanto a lei un maggiordomo e Maria, la fedele governante. I vestiti della Callas andarono all'asta a Parigi e le ceneri vennero disperse nell'Egeo, ma esiste una lapide in suo ricordo presso il cimitero parigino di Pere Lachaise, dove sono sepolti molti altri importanti nomi della politica, della scienza, dello spettacolo, del cinema e della musica. Read the full article

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years ago

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May I request a vampire dogfight over an injured MC? A group of vampires are all wanting her and Cecelia has to fight them off to protect what is hers. Vampires are turning on each other left and right as well? Full on feeding frenzy.

It was supposed to be a quiet night out with Cecilia, nothing too fancy. Just a long conversation to get to know her better, under the stars and the ethereal glow of the moon, far away from the town and any kind of interruptions. You had Cecilia and her melodic voice all to yourself. You could get lost in Cecilia’s dark eyes all you liked, because their glint fascinated you more than all the treasures you had sneakily claimed for yourself over the years.

Perhaps that’s why you hadn’t sensed anything was wrong. You were too engrossed in the direction the conversation was headed, in the lovely tension that was building between you with each carefully worded retort. The single spark of a touch would ignite a passion like no other, and you were looking forward to let it consume any other thought that wasn’t Cecilia and her predatory smirk that quirked her wonderful lips just so.

She was a work of art, and you wanted nothing more than to shower her with the attention and admiration she deserved.

Of course, nothing went to plan. The tension spiked not because of a heated moment between lovers, but because of an ambush and scrambled attempts to defend yourselves. Cecilia was thrown to the ground first, hissing and growling in the face of her attacker. You only get a second to look at their wild eyes and baring fangs before someone tackles you so hard all the air leaves your lungs, leaving you wheezing.

There’s a brief moment of total blackness when your head hits the ground, and the next thing you know, you are face down on the earth, you don’t feel the weight of your gun on you and the person restraining you – another human – is laughing an awful, raspy laugh that makes you shudder with disgust.

“That was too easy!” He says, after his chuckles subside. You can’t even properly glare at him, so you just settle for proving him wrong. It only takes a bit of focusing before he’s screaming and cursing at previously nonexistent flames that now lick hungrily at his shirt. It’s all you need to push him off you and deliver a solid kick to his jaw.

His head snaps back, and he yowls in pain. A hand raises to grab your leg and yank you back, and you briefly wonder how stubborn this guy is before a piercing pain in your thigh has you gasping in surprise.

“You’ll pay for that.” You hiss. The punch you give him fills you with satisfaction, and a second one with a little bit of magical energy ensures he is out cold. You retrieve your gun almost mechanically, clenching your teeth at the throbbing pain that threatens to overwhelm your very mind.

You don’t have time for this, not when you’re not sure if Cecilia is safe.

Thankfully, improvising is one of your best qualities. You’ve never used your witch powers to heal yourself before, and you have no idea how to even begin, but you put both hands over the wound and hope for the best.

It’s not instant relief. It’s a weird mix of sensations: you suddenly feel too cold and a moment later too hot. The world spins, and you let out a long string of curses that would make Enzo proud while you try to get a grasp on the situation. Still, after that brief moment of turmoil, your mind clears.

Making a mental note to check the wound later, your gaze snaps up, trying to locate her. There’s a flash of red in the corner of your eye that disappears almost instantly, but it’s all you need. You stumble around a couple of rocks big enough to obscure your vision, and finally find her.

She’s crouched, lips peeled back in a snarl, ready to block or evade any strike the other vampire throws at her. Both look equally wary of each other, gauging each other up, looking for any weaknesses. Neither look particularly hurt… Cecilia’s jacket is torn in the back, clearly ripped open by claws, but her skin has already healed.

She’s okay. She’s fine.

You let out a small sigh of relief.

The other vampire sniffs the air, eyes instantly falling on you. His whole expression changes in less than a second, a wicked grin stretching across his face when he sees your wound.

“A witch?” He asks, incredulously.

Cecilia is on him faster than you can blink, her guttural growl echoing clearly. She maneuvers over his hasty attack like a nimble cat, empowered by something else than the need to defend herself. Her strikes are powerful and precise and make him stumble back, eyes wide at the restless assault.

She’s moving with the intent to protect what is hers.

“Don’t you dare look at her!” She roars, claws glinting a silvery red under the light of the moon.

Mouth dry at the sight, heart drumming with adrenaline and affection, you hurry to help her. Your energy rolls out of you in waves, trying to get a grip on the other vampire. You initially meant to grab his attention and grant Cecilia her golden opportunity, but you’re distracted by the other presences your energy picks up. And they are drawing closer with each second that passes.

“There are more vampires coming!” You shout, damning your bad luck.

Cecilia hisses, rolling out of an attack. She seems torn between making sure the vampire learns that you belong to her and her alone, or making a run for it. Crimson eyes dart around the terrain, trying to gauge how much time she has.

It turns out it’s less than a second. You’re quickly surrounded by an endless sea of glistening fangs, and under the light of the moon they seem all the more threatening.

There must be ten or so vampires here, or even more.

“Great.” You huff. Your fingers curl around the trigger of your gun, even though it may as well be a toy against these apex predators. You do not want to play damsel in distress, and your frustration only increases when it becomes evident you can’t do much else other than watch and hope for the best.

Cecilia seems ready to go down fighting, anyway, by the way she’s avidly looking for weaknesses.

“Hand over the witch.” Orders a calm voice. You glare at the closest vampire, seething in rage.

Cecilia’s answering growl seems to overpower any other sound in the world. “I will do no such thing!”

“It’s such a shame that the last Visconti will go down like this…”

The fight begins anew. Your energy extends like a roaring ocean wave, crashing against them and pinning some vampires in place. You strain under the effort, hissing under your breath.

The rest of enemies throw themselves at Cecilia, who dodges and hisses and pivots around them with effortless grace. She’s a storm barely contained in a mystical, expertly carved not-so-human body. A true sight for sore eyes. The enemy vampires don’t stand a chance against her.

It’s weird, you think, how easily she throws them around and slashes at their exposed chests and neck with ease. It’s like they aren’t at full strength, which would certainly explain why they came from who knows where for you.

A sharp moment of pain makes you stagger, making you suddenly aware of another problem. There’s a pressure in your mind that increases with each passing second. It’s not only the strain of keeping the spell, there’s something else poking and probing at your mind with an almost frantic need.

You try to fight it off with all your might, but the pressure only increases, drowns any other thought, makes you want to scream and trash around—

Then there’s a blurry movement in front of you and the vampire that was trying to lure you goes flying off.

“You’re mine, witchling. Don’t ever forget that.” Cecilia’s low, raspy voice snaps you out of it. She’s standing next to you, breathing hard, bathed in blood and sand and looking somehow perfect despite it all. Her touch is firm yet gentle over your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. You can’t help noticing how hers bore into your very soul, so intense and so powerful it’s impossible not to look at them. At her.

The moment is over as soon as it begins. Her hands fall to your sides, gripping your arms so hard it’s almost painful, and she quickly moves you out of the way of an incoming vampire. You prepare to fight back however you can, except it turns out you don’t really need to. The vampire continues forward, crazed, and crashes against another vampire at the far back.

There’s a series of indignant shouts and chaos descends at the next second. Some vampires make a move toward you and others move to block them, fangs bared, trying to push them back and make their own attempt to get to you. It looks almost comical, how they try to quite literally run over each other. Cecilia lets out a small huff by your side, half exasperation and half relief.

The enemy vampires are so out of it you even manage to shoot one directly in the face. She falls back, making a few agonized sounds deep in her throat, scratching the air and guarding what’s left of her face with her arms.

“That’s our cue to leave.” Cecilia murmurs, pressing you close to her, carefully cupping your neck. She seems less possessive and more like her usual self, probably because most of the danger has already passed. The injuries she caused to most vampires must have driven her point across.

The world lurches and shifts on its axis. You are on your apartment at the next second, and Cecilia is instantly fretting over your wound, even though she’s not faring much better. There’s a large cut under her arm that’s struggling to heal, along with several smaller ones along her arms and legs, and her breathing is even more labored.

Vengeful crimson gives away to worried silver, as she eases into her human form, not caring one little bit about her own state.

“Worry about yourself first, Cece. You look awful.”

“Most of my injuries look worse than they actually are. I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand-”

“Oh, don’t give me that. Go out and feed. Here, give me that bandage. I’ll take care of this.”

“I’m-”

“On your way out, yes.”

“Claire-”

“If I don’t see you stepping out my room in the next five seconds-”

She sighs and parts from you with hesitant steps. Looks over her shoulder at you regretfully.

“I’m sorry, if I had been more alert-”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about that, Cece. It just means I’m too irresistible for you to pay attention to anything else.”

There’s that amused smirk that you love so much. The one that curls her lips just so and shows a flash of teeth, the one that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly, and makes her eyes sharpen with predatory interest.

“Brat.” Is all she says, before leaving the room.

#evoedbd #answered #cecilia visconti #lovestruck #cecilia x mc #wll #wicked lawless love #mentions of injury #sporadic sunday #lovestruck wll #lovestruck wicked lawless love

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