Requiem for the living

Chapter 12: Lemonade baby

The funeral was gruesomely ecstatic, as amusament and greed charged the souls of the guests of such a non-sobre event. At the parlor of a mansion not far from the one belonging to a man that was certainly into "number gambling" the fest was going to be washed in bourbon more fearceful than a burned doctor that would clean some nasty disease with medicinal alcohol.

"Funeral"? Yes, the term would apply perfectly if someone could get back in time just to see a glimpse of the face of Leonardo DaVinci, who was tortured by his demons more than in that tv show that awaits to appear on screen centuries later. And the tormentor was no one else than his beloved, who descended from seemingly high Heavens, only to be caught like in that prolific catch lovey-dovey phrase "Did it hurt when you fell?" by some random mysterious man that our painter have never seen. And indeed, that scenery hurts.

"And I didn't even invited thee, my friend", he said out of the sudden, as Fra Luca Pacioli starred blank at the painter and thinking the possibility of remebering in the future to keep his mouth shut when
fun killers such as DaVinci are around.

"Invite me where?" Pacioli said barely bothered as he tried to style his rare hair that grew midlenght because of the fashion criteria of that time.

"To my funeral."

"You are a big man, stop complaining and whining, painter!" Pacioli begged as he arranged his cuffs of the suit that was a bit too large for such a petité figure.

"Do we have more than what nature gave to man when nature itself takes it away?"

"You are getting into poetry nonsense if you ain't sober up. Even so, thou speak beautifully when you are drunk. I might tell you a secret. The sober Leonardo I know is such a bore when awake."

"My love for grapes took place for the love for her as nature...no...not nature, some forest dwarf took my only love. My Lisa...", he said sadly, frustration growing as soon as he saw some heads turning like a radio antene ready to catch some sound and turn it into a reason to gossip.

"I don't know, mate, I have only seen you with your mouth touching passionately the one of the rum bottle in a french kiss. Only to cheat on it later with the one of bourbon."

"Ah, break shall thou giveth me, Fra Luca!"

"Come on, painter, you have not all night to seduce thy lady. Go and talk to her, man up" the matematician encouraged Leonardo, even though he could have seen how his knees were moist like broth at the simple tought of sharing some of his flirty side with the woman who he had painted.

Passing the corridor into an attempt to keep his manners and head tall was the worst job that could have been given to a person like Leonardo DaVinci, drunk out of passion, fear and alcohol simultaneously.

"Aaa...My dear Lisa", he started as he got closer to the woman who was inspecting carefully her company who had left in the pursue of some fruits beautifully presented on some silver plates a few tables further. And even though she seemed absent, her voice mesmerised Leonardo as soon as her beautiful mouth told him the words that left him in awe.

"I was waiting for you" she said seductively, with a grin that only his talented hands managed to catch and put on the canvas to be remembered forever, but never seemed to present in front of humanity the charm found only in her hypnotising glare that could sent men to die and descent into the flames of hell without a second thought. That was the both sin and virtue Mona Lisa was inherited with, with a nobility that wasn't going to be manifested in royal, blue blood, but in the red one of the men who was going to be gurgling because of the battle that was tormenting their inside. And little did this man now, the victim of the most acid feeling pursued and hated in the history of humanity, that is going to take more than his blood to end the vicious war born because of the wicked play of this woman who bewitched without practice his conscience.