Requiem for the living

Chapter 11: Sub rosa

The beauty in the first rays of the day stands always not so much into the view the eyes of the civilisation embrace, not the nature itself with it's inexplicabile order, but in the connection that people share, by how they look so greatful at each other, by how they feel, by how they speak...

"Knot thy tongue!" a yell could have been heard from the colorful mouth of the one and only Leonardo DaVinci. And indeed, this was beautiful.

The clogged air of heatened brains was being spread in the incint if what could have been called Pacioli's domain, a little chamber of secrets that remained intact after years of natural disaster. And who would have thought that the reconstruction of it, again and again, would have brought to the eyes the pleasure of seeing centuries later, in the same place, a mansion that hid a disturbing secret - not other than the Jackson's. The air got hardened by their each breath, the pulse triggered to its higher cotes as they followed their expectance, and their secret could've put the romanic stigmate of a rose¹ on the wooden door that separated Fra Luca Pacioli and Leonardo DaVinci from the dizziness of that italian city.

"My sweet Leonardo, this isn't chicken pox that make you get your skin all shivery," Pacioli said, as he seemed to have sworn in his mind that he caught the famous painter blushing.

"Lock up thy teeth, or I will boil thee and replace thee in my next chicken soup. Are thou not shameful, Pacioli?!" he yelled, even though the painter's lungs kept so hard the beginning of a laughter.

"It is love. I saw your glittery eyes, shimmering all wet after that woman Lisa! Love is a hell of a feeling, though" the mathematician almost sang as he threw consistent looks towards the painter that could have sworn he would paint his next painting using his friend's blood.

"Thou will get shimmering eyes too after my fist will plan a meeting with thy face."

"Delay the meeting. Listen to me, thou damned painter. I know damn well you got your nose into my love spells from my grimoire, but I spilled no tea. Be thankful."

"Oh how thankful..." he rolled his eyes disrespectful, as in that weird roll his look an even more important target - the little rum bottle kept so pristine in the wooden bar of Fra Luca, and the only thing that could have keep him away from filling the belly of his gluttony demon he kept in his alcoholic mind was the sharp ugly look of his friend and the closed door of the cabinet the bar contained. And if only...

"It's been three days, three days, Leonardo, since you met her and look at you."

And indeed, the rum addiction would be a danger to today's cinematography if he would have been contemporan with Johnny Depp, being a good choice for his role in Pirates of the Carribean. But in a time as old as DaVinci, with all due respect to the man who was a genius indeed, pirates, less funny and Maybe even more drunk than Jack Sparrow might have roamed the sea in the pursue of fortune.

"What? There's rum, not medicinal alcohol"

"Medicinal...What?" Pacioli asked with the naïvity of a child who asked his tutor a thing that was seemingless nothing out of import.

"Ah, poor miserable thing, holera will have thy carcass rip opened. Haven't I told thee about that damned doctor who claimed..."

"Yes, poor doctor, worthy of burning on stake. What is with him?"

"He used this thing like a remedy...I drank it and I could have sworn things were getting messy before my own eyes. It is worthless, indeed...", DaVinci mumbled as he could have felt even them the dizziness of that unfortunate choice playing wicked games with his head.

"Medicinal alcohol?"

"Aye"

"Sfortza got me into the biggest trouble when he decided that I shall meet thee", Pacioli complained as Leonardo threw him a ugly look.