#dalygrace

[brutuskovrov]

date: may 14th location: montague headquarters status: closed for @dalygrace

He's heard tell of the rumors which have slowly settled their way into reality, in the way seashells settle into sand. He'll have little to do with it, obviously, hasn't been here long enough to dig his heels in and start collecting what's due. More than that, people know Boris by now -- and the smart ones know not to chatter when he's in the room. It doesn't stop him from trying, though. He's plied the news of several Capulet shipments coming through on plane freight out of a pair of initiates,, and it's with this information tucked into his pocket that he returns to the library, prouder than is rational for such a small achievement. He's not picky. He'll take what he can get.

And what he can get, it seems, car keys jingling and eyes downcast until the last minute, is Grace Daly. For a moment, Boris stops, and that's all that he can personally think to do. She cuts as sharp a shape as ever: all angular lines, long shadows, a sour expression -- or what Boris perceives to be a sour expression. The longer he looks, the more he realizes that might not be what it is at all. It's not every day that he's left alone in the room with a woman who tried to brazenly kill him. Non-brazenly, of course, has never been off the table.

She's an anomaly to him, something unfamiliar in every meaning of the word, and Boris can feel his hands twitching with the desire to know. It is here, and now, that his appetite rises. He cannot help but poke the bear with the stick. He shuffles the manila folder of papers to his other hand, the ones that had been holding the keys, straightens a little. “Is it true, then, that you are going after the Cathedral tomorrow?” Perhaps his tone is a bit too jagged, his phrasing stilted, but when he speaks, he can feel the flare of the knife at his throat all over again. An unexpected side effect to accompany the hunger for knowledge, then. “Are you looking forward to it?”

[ofcastora]

ONCE UPON A DIVERONA… (25/∞)

introducing grace daly as the evil fairy from briar rose by brothers grimm

@dalygrace

[deadagainmaevepetre]

grace + maeve (incredibly cursed but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

kills the spider — absolutely grace,, maeve closes her eyes and is like “you’re going to take it outside right and let it find its family again??” and grace just gives her a Look as she says “no, i killed the bitch”

proposed — i WANT TO SAY GRACE bc how cute would that be!!! i feel like they’d just have the smallest wedding too, grace bc she likes maybe 3 people and maeve bc she likes TOO MANY people so this is their compromise. a small lesbian wedding in the woods

kissed the other first — I’M GOING TO SAY maEVE because!! it would just be cute that’s it i have no reasoning, this is just me daydreaming about grace/maeve

initiates things — maeve because she’s so much more open-hearted and willing to show her love at any given moment randomly

would leave the other — ewfkjhxcv grace FOR SURE

is more jealous — probably grace bc possessive streak bABY

is lazier — probably... grace???? i feel like maeve bounces around grace like WANNA DO THIS WAHT BOUT THSI and grace is like jfc...

sends weird texts at 3 AM — oh maeve for sure she sends her shit like ‘look at the moon tonight’

is more experienced — OK DEFINITELY GRACE KJHCXV

said i love you first — maeve in every universe and she doesn’t expect grace to say it back,,, but when grace does say it back, maeve cries WEFKJHXCV

[catherinedaly]

date: 31 may 2019 location: grace’s apartment status: closed to @dalygrace

Louis Daly is (bless his heart) a fool—especially when it comes to catering to each and every whim of his three daughters. He’d all but leapt to his feet the moment his youngest dragged herself through the doorway with a blank expression that left no room for any emotion other than concern from a doting father. He tried prying words from her, but she remained steadfast, finding her voice for just long enough to say that she wanted her mother there, too. And, while he was busy fetching Simona from their bedroom upstairs, Catherine rifled through his drawers until she found what she wanted—an apartment key.

She left before either of her parents returned downstairs.

—

It’s near terrifying—how easily it is for the blonde’s mind to wander when behind the wheel; how her self-preserving body has no choice but to shift to autopilot and drive the Maserati, lest it crash; how she simultaneously feels everything and nothing at once, that is.

Catherine drives for what feels like hours with what she tells herself is no aim, knuckles blanching against her steering wheel without her knowledge. Her thoughts are elsewhere—with Maeve, with Everett, with Philip—and are equally as loud as they are quiet; hundreds of questions—How could she do this? She seemed fine a few days ago, what happened? Why didn’t she come to me? ...Why didn’t I make myself easier to come to? Could Ev have stopped her? ...Could I?—bubble in her chest like molten rock, but are stifled before she has the chance to give voice to her inquiries.

The only person that could answer them is no longer alive.

The Maserati crawls to a halt in a too-familiar driveway, and it’s not until the purr of the engine goes silent that she truly recognizes the gravity of what she’s doing. Even then, she doesn’t stop.

Cat enters her eldest sister’s apartment and locks the door behind her so that Grace won’t think anything is amiss when she gets home. She stands, back pressed against the door as she wonders what, exactly, she hopes to gain from this; wonders what she’ll do when Grace arrives; wonders what Grace will do when she comes home. Would she recognize her own sister’s car, or would she assume it belongs to a stranger? When she got in, would she pull a knife or a gun on darling Catia in an act of vengeance for the ways in which she fought at the Capulet anniversary? Would she hesitate or capitalize on the sight of her own flesh and blood despondent and vulnerable—familial ties be damned?

...Would Catherine even care? Perhaps not; death is death is death, after all—all terribly permanent and deafeningly loud.

She moves from the doorway to the kitchen, slender fingers wrapping around the neck of a half-empty vodka bottle. Were she not so consumed with her stunted, mangled grief in regards to the loss of her amina gemella, she might have taken the time to rifle through cabinets for something more palatable—but for now, the liquor will work. Cat goes to the living room and lays on Grace’s couch, bottle tucked tightly against her chest when she’s not taking long pulls from it (which is isn’t often).

When the apartment door finally opens, Catherine hardly budges. The vodka has made her sluggish, and obliterated what little resolve she had left. “Maeve è morta,” she says in lieu of greeting when Grace comes into her line of sight. It’s the first time she’s repeated the words that Everett gave her, and she suddenly feels incredibly small, hopeless. Her voice splinters and frays at the edges despite its drunken slur; it sounds unrecognizable to the woman from which it comes.

“Maeve is dead,” she repeats, voice barely louder than a whisper.

[cleosokolova]

date: 20 may 2019 location: grace’s apartment status: closed to @dalygrace

Faron would have suggested they go check on Grace.

A garrote, of all things, маленький волк, he’d murmur thoughtfully, a hand running up her arm to stop at her neck, fingers outstretched as they traced the gentle slopes of her collarbones. Can you imagine? His words would be punctuated by the wrapping of his hand around her throat, a gentle flex creating just enough pressure to send her pulse fluttering.

Could she imagine?

Garrotes themselves are garish things, the bloodied and mangled results they leave in their wake enough to earn an upturned nose from Calina Sokolova, who believes that necks are better suited for gemstones and gold rather than ragged cuts. Grace, however, does not bear the brunt of the weapon against the supple flesh of her throat; rather, the palms of her hands are cut instead. A blessing in one respect, yet a curse in another...

Regardless, the whole notion leaves a bitter tang in Calina’s mouth, a compelling reason explaining why she lingers outside of Grace Daly’s apartment with gifts in tow—vodka from the Sokolova woman herself and a wrapped box from Faron, his handwriting bedecking the top that plainly reads рыцарь. One of his knights, one of this chaos incarnates; Faron was enraptured with her as soon as he met her—she, that turncoat Daly daughter who favored red over blue and violence over peace. Calina clears her throat, dismissing the memory of Faron as she rings the door’s bell.

“Grace,” Calina murmurs in greeting once the other opens the door, “I imagine congratulations are in order for you, what with you being an integral part to the seizure of the Cathedral.” She glances down at bandaged hands for just a moment, attention returning to Grace’s visage as she continues, “But, some victories are far more bitter than others, making it nearly impossible to bask in the praise. I have a couple of things with me that, I hope, will make this whole ordeal a bit more palatable for you.” She proffers the bottle of vodka and gift box; they’re olive branches, apologies, acknowledgements. Olive branches—because Calina has never been of a fan of brute force; apologies—because the emissary dropped the ball and left Grace to own devices, removed from plans Faron once had; and acknowledgements—because now is as good a time as any to right months-old wrongs and pick up where the King of St. Petersburg left off. Faron saw something in the eldest Daly and Calina is determined to find out what it was—if she has a use for it in her own blossoming network.

“May I come in?”

[diveronarpg]

Veronesi, we present to you our form of appreciation! You have taken the stage, conquered it and made it your own – and for that, we thank you. Each week we will try to show our adoration for you all.

If we could, we would put every single player’s threads in a graphic. But, we had to practice temperance in this case. Every player will be highlighted alternating week-to-week based on observation and on submissions to the DIVERONA QUOTES BLOG. Every player will stand in the spotlight because every one of you deserves to!

Thank you all for your amazing plotting and activity at DV! ♡

@stlapin, @dalygrace, @cleosokolova

[paoladamasco]

APRIL 3 AT 11 AM, IN A MONTAGUE TRAINING ROOM I GUESS, closed to @dalygrace​

It’s only because Paola’s been shot with a gun fairly recently that she bothered to ask Grace for a favor. Matthias has been an excellent trainer in learning to use her fists, but it’s impossible to deny the power of metal in your hands — and how vulnerable you are when you can’t even hold a gun properly. She’s met Grace only briefly, courtesy of Henry, but a short introduction was enough to convince Paola of one crucial fact about the infamous Grace Daly —

She is a living weapon, dangerous and menacing. It’s why Paola asked for her help. Who better to learn from than the most intimidating Montague she’s met thus far?

“Thank you for meeting me.” Paola arrives at the space the Montagues reserve for exactly this. How many Montagues have learned to kill a man in the same spot she stands? She tries to imagine Genevieve or Pandora ever being less than lethal; it’s hard to picture. “I figured it’s about time, especially after… well.” She doesn’t need to say the words for Grace to know exactly what she’s referencing: the very public death of one of their own.

[rafaellacapulet]

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN

date: December 21st, 2015

location: rafaella’s apartment

time: 11:32 PM

status: for @dalygrace​

    Perhaps their celebrations were a little premature. There was still more than a week before the end of Rafaella’s first year of shadowing as a consigliere, and there was still so much to learn -- but her spirits were high and the weather was cold, so she thought why not. If anyone had told her that this was where she would make her mark a decade ago, she would have laughed uproariously in their face. She would have thought that she was a pretty little creature made for nothing else other than suffering, shackled to a bunch of cowards who call themselves family, but didn’t have the heart to fight for them when push came to shove.  And now here she was, revelling in a successful year, with family and friends who know how to shoulder the weight of life’s tragedies and sins. 

    Family and friends who would fight for her. Who love her still. 

    Popping open another bottle of champagne, she rounded the corner into the living room, where Grace awaited her. Grace, whose ferocity and passion were as limitless as the stars and the sky, but burned as potently as the sun -- decimating everyone and taking no captives, simply burning for the sake of living. She sat on the arm of the chair, perching herself on it as she poured one glass, then another. Then she thought better of it and simply pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips and drank, taking big, great gulps until she choked, laughing all the while.

    “I promise you, mia lupa, that I am not at all drunk -- at all. I promise you I did not start drinking without you.”

    She leaned back, falling into Grace’s lap while -- miraculously -- not wasting a single drop of the decadent, bubbling alcohol. As she lay with her head on Grace’s lap, she reached out, idly curling a raven dark lock around her finger, her cheeks pink and her eyes warm. Grace. The woman’s name curled on her tongue, ripe and sweet. “Grace.” A pout formed on her lip and she gently tugged on the lock of hair, rubbing the strands between her fingers. “Pay attention to me.”

[professionalyoutuberfangirl]

You guys know just how much I wanted JacksGap and DailyGrace to happen...

I was as giggly as they were all throughout the goddamn video....

[brutuskovrov]

The Montagues + A Guide To Troubled Birds, p. 1

@ofrallis, @czarnichego, @santodomingos, @ofcastora, @cleosokolova, @gertrudezhang, @dalygrace

[ofcastora]

THE MONTAGUES + CHESS PIECES || inspo.

@gertrudezhang  @brutuskovrov @cleosokolova @ofrallis @ofrosso @dalygrace @henryzhxng @matthiaswarren @czarnichego @paoladamasco @ofaguilar @odessasvernon

[deadagainmaevepetre]

@dalygrace​ asked: 19, 27, 39

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

27. What is their biggest regret?

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

She daydreams, and she remembers. About the movies she wants to watch with Juliana, or the time that Bunny played with their hair and Maeve thought they were going to kiss; the times she looked at Catherine with only hope and joy, instead of fear that Maeve can’t follow where she goes; the first time Orion complimented her and when she made Everett laugh so hard, he almost spit out his drink.

27. What is their biggest regret?

BRINGING THIS BACK FROM MAEVE’S APP — also more emo now that Everett is the one who first brought her into the Capulets...

She remembers her Papa coming home, his shadow sinister in the moonlight and the blood staining his hands and his cheek. She remembers swallowing her fear and asking, quietly and plainly, what he was out doing. If she will let herself, Maeve knows she can feel the same drop in her stomach and the sudden, violent urge to vomit at his feet.

She remembers marching up to the Capulets and demanding recruitment. “Enlist me,” she remembers saying, “and I will be the most valuable person in your army.”

She remembers the glint in their eye, an old friend of her father’s and surely a pawn in the Capulets’ game. “You have no experience with violence, weapons or warfare. You’ve been kept in the dark your entire life, and you think you offer value?”

“Yes.“

She remembers their approving hum. She remembers the quick and rapid process of becoming a Capulet as her Papa watched, horror in his eyes. She remembers being proud of herself.

No, joining the Capulets is not the mistake Maeve is thinking of.

“My biggest mistake has been letting the world make decisions without me. My entire life, I’ve loved Verona more than anyone - and never once did I ask the right questions. I thought I knew my Papa, thought I knew Verona.. For so long, I lived… I lived a lie. Because I never tried to see what was right in front of me.”

Her fingers are shaking, Maeve realizes with a start. She folds them together and wills them to stop trembling. “It won’t happen again.”

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Talking to those she loves, and being reminded that they love her in return. Really, that’s it; those small moments where Maeve feels whole with those she loves is all that she looks forward to.

[catherinedaly]

date: 26 march 2019 location: l'anniversario dei capuleti | the cathedral status: closed to @dalygrace​

There are three things she knows without a doubt.

One: Ivan and Grace’s twisted and mottled friendship--if one could even call it that--will not be enough to rein either of the beasts in; him, with his serpentine cruelness and her, with her wolfish mercilessness. The two will undoubtedly clash, will undoubtedly trade blow for blow, match insult to insult--and for what? 

Two: Rahal won’t make it out of this--not with Henry fighting him and Grace egging them both on. She knows her sister in spite of the years and allegiance that separates them; Grace is nothing but greedy and eventually, she will grow bored with simply sneering and will take matters into her own hands. Then, Ivan will have no choice but to fight both Montagues--a battle with the odds stacked unfairly against him.

Three: She will be perceived as an easier target. Sweet, tenderhearted Catherine who didn’t want to join the Capulets; gentle, forgiving Catherine who paled at the sight of blood or the chance at violence. Baby Catherine, born twelve years after her eldest sister and yet again split the attention of Louis and Simona Daly. 

She decides to act, to use herself as bait to snatch Grace’s attention from the brawling men--just as she snatched their parents’ attention as soon as she was born. She came into this world, all flaxen hair and innocent blue hues; la mia principessa, their father would lovingly croon as she, at the tender age of five, sat on his lap while Grace, wily and seventeen, could do nothing but watch. 

After all, her eldest sister has always branded her a nuisance, so why stop now? 

Bristling, the littlest Daly bares her teeth and bites out, “Daly!” It’s acidic and cruel to address her sister by nothing more than their shared last name, but as of late, it seems like the only thing that connects the three daughters; certainly not loyalty, certainly not love. “Will you ever learn how to pick a fair fight?”

[cleosokolova]

MISSION: Cleopatra has clientele all over the world and is well-known for her cleverness. However, Damiano wants to further push her to her limits - he has assigned her to organize a group of two soldiers and do some reconaissance in one of the Capulet's allies -- the yakuza. He would like to ply them with coin if he could, but even so, just to let the Capulets know that nothing of theirs is sacred or safe is enough for him. Through a self para or thread, explore Calina's decisions in acting.

date: 2 may 2019 - 12 may 2019 location: verona, italy; st. petersburg, russia; sovetskaya-gavan, russia; kurume, fukuoka prefcture, japan

There’s something to be said about being picked by il Capo to swipe Capulet business partners away from them and hoard them for the Montague name. It’s the second time he’s assigned such a mission to her, what with the first having been to steal Queen Mab from the Capulets. Akin to a dragon that hoards gold, Damiano wants the Yakuza in any way he can have them--as business partners, as mere connections, as a dog-whistle used to rile up the Capulets any time they realize they’re not exclusively dealing with the group--and Calina intends to deliver and then some; already, a plan is forming in her mind to not only sway the Yakuza away from the Capulets just because, but to pull them closer to the Montague crown and fortify trading deals between the two entities. 

She reaches out to her Russian contacts. Yerik is the first she calls, what with his loyalty to Faron and herself and his honesty in regards to what he thinks about her business ventures. He acts as a sounding board as she works out her plan, going so far as to offer his own opinions when she seems to get into a rut with herself. By the end of the call, the Russian man is sold on the idea of a drug distribution center on the eastern side of the country so that the Yakuza have an easier time getting things from Montagues rather than Capulets; it benefits Calina, which indirectly benefits him. The Zaitzev’s are the next pair of people she reaches out to and she eventually wins their support, too. She settles that Yerik will accompany her crosscountry and act as her second-in-command and the Zaitzev’s will act as strongholds in Russia while she works to extend Damiano’s kingdom and her own. 

With that matter settled, her attention turns to which soldiers she’ll take with her to Russia. Calina combs through the list of available Montagues, paying close attention to her own weaknesses so that she may find a pair who’ll complement and complete her rather than drag her down. She thinks of Boris and then so ardently decides to not think of him. Calina still can’t trust the man as far as she can throw him, and thus cannot pull him into a plan that is meant to benefit her more than others; he’s too elegantly cunning, too unpredictable, and far too snake-like in his decision-making. Her next thought is of Faron’s рыцарь, Grace, and this sentiment, too, is quickly chased away. Grace’s tenacity and bloodlust are unmatched, but the Sokolova woman knows, perhaps too well, that too-wild things need close supervision, and she cannot afford to waste time and energy watching Grace when there are deals to be made and clients to be stolen. 

In the end (perhaps selfishly), Calina settles on two nearly nondescript soldiers who’ve yet to make a name for themselves. Like Faron plucked her from Madame Kamenev’s brothel, she will do the same for them; she will lift them from obscurity and into recognition, so long as the mission goes as planned. Like chess pieces, she collects those who will vouch for her abilities and competencies within the Montagues. She’ll use these soldiers as a buffer, a shield; she’ll make sure Cleopatra isn’t nearly as easy a target as Fortinbras, whose thin buffer of relationships clearly wasn’t enough to keep him alive. 

It’s Genevieve she goes to on May 1, once the plan is concrete in her labyrinthine mind. “I am a Montague,” the Russian woman says resolutely as she settles in the chair on the other side of Genevieve’s desk, “and as the months pass, sotto capo, I realize there is more that I can offer to the family that’s offered so much to me.” She ignores the bitter tang that lingers in the back of her throat, thoughts of Lawrence and Roman rushing to the forefront of the mind as she speaks honeyed praises of the Veronan family. The boy-king and his obedient servant have nearly stripped Calina bare, having taken the man with whom she was set to cultivate an empire within the city St. Petersburg whilst maintaining connections in Italy and more. The Montagues have taken so much from her, and yet now she deigns to give, to entwine her inherited syndicate in Russia with Damiano’s in Italy.

The difference? The difference now is Calina. She’s harbored so much ill will, has bared her teeth at the mention of the heir and her dearest friend’s brother more times than she can count—and what has come of it? Her grief has consumed her, but it has not destroyed her; again, akin to a phoenix, the Sokolova woman rises from the ashes of loss anew and ready to reclaim what’s rightfully hers: the favor of the king, his second-in-command, and the advisor.

But perhaps, at her core, Calina Sokolova resigns to serve the family that killed a part of her own because she wants them to need her, to come to rely on Cleopatra more than they ever thought they would. She’ll shower the Montague name with as many millions of euros as she can and she’ll succeed on the behalf of both Damiano and herself, so long as each victory unwittingly brings the mafia closer and closer to kneeling to the Queen of St. Petersburg out of its own volition rather than being cut at the knees. Let her moniker stand by itself—not Fortinbras and Cleopatra, but Cleopatra alone; let her Italian alias be drenched in Montague gold, so long as the appropriate titles and luxuries follow. 

The plan she lies out for Genevieve espouses her goals: to undermine Capulet dealings with the Yakuza by offering them Ambrosia at lower rates with quicker delivery times by setting up a drug distribution center near Russia’s coast. She explains how she’ll use her own network to connect with and woo the Japanese crime syndicate in the name of the Montagues and their Ambrosia. The distribution center will be run and owned by Montagues and overseen by a handful of trusted people chosen by the Queen of St. Petersburg. Having been the entity to provide the drugs, the Montagues will take the lion’s share in regards to profits; 90% of earnings go to Damiano and his causes, while the remaining 10% is split between Yerik, the Zaitzevs, and others rooted in Russia who work closely with the distribution operation. In total, she intends to spend ten days away from Italy and in Russia and Japan. 

The Underboss mulls over the proposition, Damiano’s wishes weighing heavily in the back of her mind. After their conversation, the Zhang woman gives Calina the green light she needs to begin working.

The Sokolova woman leaves for St. Petersburg the next day. The following ten days are spent as discussed and when she returns to Verona, she does so victoriously. 

IN SUMMARY, Calina has successfully undermined the Capulet dealings with the Yakuza, at least to some extent. Having offered quicker delivery times, lower prices, and easier access, the Sokolova woman manages to convince a handful of the Dojin-kai to stop buying il sangue di fata and il anello di fata from the Capulets at expensive prices and to instead add the cost-effective and addictive Ambrosia to the repertoire of drugs they sell. 

She is away from Verona from 2 May 2019 to 12 May 2019. 

[mentioned: @brutuskovrov + @dalygrace + @gertrudezhang]