Francesco Pazzi x Medici OC | Enemies to lovers | Romeo and Juliet Retelling | The Taming of the Shrew retelling | Arranged marriage/marriage of convenience | star-crossed lovers | Feminism during the Italian Renaissance |
I am kind of a hive with...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
The Medici family courtyard stood as a testament to grandeur, an expanse of elegant architecture adorned with intricate sculptures and manicured greenery. Today, however, the usual hum of activity was absent, replaced by a sombre stillness that seemed to hang heavy in the air like a funeral shroud.
For young Catalina de Medici, who wasn't accustomed to silence, it was an excuse to retreat to her favourite spot — a hidden alcove nestled behind one of her grandfather's cherished sculptures. It was a space she had claimed as her own, a sanctuary where she could escape the prying eyes of the world
As she hunched over her latest mechanical contraption, the alcove enveloped her in a cocoon of shadows, broken only by the dim light filtering through the jagged opening. Dust danced in the air, stirred up by her movements, and Catalina couldn't help but sneeze, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls.
Dressed in mourning attire, the girl glanced down at her black dress, a stark reminder of the solemn occasion, and she could almost envision her mother's disapproving gaze, a silent reproach for having already tarnished the pristine fabric with dust and grime. Despite the silent admonition, she remained undeterred, her focus unwavering as she continued her tinkering.
Her fingers deftly worked at the intricate mechanisms of her creation, spinning wheels into place with practiced precision, but today, even her usually steady hands seemed to betray her, faltering as she applied too much pressure. With a small gasp of dismay, one of the wheels popped off, springing from her grasp and rolling away into the courtyard.
A grumble threatened to escape her lips, her exasperation getting the better of her. Yet, despite the urge to unleash a colourful string of profanities, she held her tongue, the solemnity of the day reminding her of the importance of restraint. One didn't swear on funeral days, she sternly reminded herself, though the temptation lingered, fueled by the expletive-laden vocabulary she had inadvertently acquired from Marco Bello's colourful language.
Catalina's gaze followed the trajectory of the wayward wheel as it came to a stop at the foot of someone nearby. With a furrowed brow, she watched as the figure bent down to retrieve it, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected interruption. It was one of the Pazzi boys, Francesco, his dark eyes narrowing in concentration as he examined the intricacies of the mechanical component.
Peering out from her hidden alcove, the Medici girl's attempt to get a better view was met with an unexpected obstacle - the low stone roof that collided with her head. With a muffled curse that did slip past her lips now, she recoiled, the sharp pain of impact echoing through her skull. Francesco's eyebrows jumped in concern, his gaze flickering towards the source of the disturbance.
Flushed with embarrassment, Catalina scowled, half in frustration and half in mortification at her own clumsiness. "That's mine," she snapped, her tone sharper than intended as she reached out to reclaim her wayward creation.
