#ibnyaqzan

[ofshiraz]

the persians rolling up to portugal like

@shahbanu-ghazala @ibnyaqzan @abuzarbeg @ofshiraz

[ofitzroy]

💛 + italians

FUCK  — lady gianina sforza, for no real reason MARRY  — he would not answer this in public, but may mumble the grand duchess seraphina when his wife looks the other way... for the purse, of course.  KILL  — grand duke lorenzo de medici, so he can marry his wife.. in a hypothetical world !! 

[ofcxterina]

event 001 closed starter

@ibnyaqzan​

it was the opening feast in the portuguese city and caterina felt lucky to even be breathing in the air, thick with fumes of wine and meat. the palace was bright with commotion and distraction  — that was what tended to happen when dignitaries from every available country descended to the same place — but she was determined not to get sidetracked by the revelry, a level to which she hadn’t seen since she’d left the hedonistic french court. that had been a different time however, and though back then she’d love to command the room with pealing laughter and a flurry of words, this place was different, and much had changed. she preferred now, at least, to stick to the sides of the room, not allowing herself to indulge and lose herself in the festivity. 

having too high of a profile here could be disastrous after all. she didn’t know how many of the french were here, and even if they still nurse the deep hatred for her that stemmed from her husband’s betrayal. she didn’t even know if her husband himself was here, a meeting she’d like to stave off for as long as possible. but now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past, it was time to look towards the future, and to a meeting she’d looked forward to for months. she was on the hunt for shahzadeh mahmud. many months ago, he’d sent an emissary to milan probing for connections within the italian league. he seemed to have the same hunger for connection and expansion that she did, and to find him would be a welcome accomplishment. 

just as she was about to drain the last drop of wine from her glass, she caught him in the corner of her eye. or, who she hope was him, as she had only the emissary’s description and a portrait to go off of. approaching him slowly, caterina took the time to note the people around him, making sure they weren’t french. “good evening. shahzadeh mahmud, i presume?”