We Are All Princes Here.

....Not Quite Right.

© Assorted Artists

Yes, I gave over.

I regret nothing. Not even in the morning.

Once the dust has settled.

- John Cleese, 2020

There's always time for tea.

The Girl in Room 509

Ya no soy tu angel // I’m not your angel anymore

There's something pure, in their final moments. When you watch Death. The light leaves their eyes.... It's intimate, primal. It grounds you. Reminds you we are not permanent on this world. Just passing shadows, moving through time and space. I weigh their sins against my hands as their soul departs. I take them in against my blade, like a lover's confession. Cradle the body with infinite respect. I am Death. Their final destination. I pray for their safe passage to the Underworld. Eventually, one day, I will take my place beside them.

“This is, uhm… You’re gonna see Keanu really turn on this sort of reptilian John Wick. It’s just, you know, the audience has been chuckling and laughing and then… John stabs a guy in throat and everyone’s like, “What?! Wha… What?” There’s a little intimacy there. It’s just…the boogeyman’s out of the bag.“ —Chad Stahelski and David Leitch, taken from the John Wick director’s commentary.

PUT ON A HAPPY FACE

@jokerous @arthur-j-fleck @joker2019confessions

|| With Love

Hannibal | Nel Sangue

Prologue

Unique are the twists and turns of our lives.

So much of our reality is based upon perception; and perception being differential between individuals is objectively dependent on events occurring through space and time. Thus, their interpretation is as varied as the imagination of the individual.

There are individuals whom walk among us capable of magnificent scope of imagination. For better or worse. Both a gift and a curse comparatively.

Thus, our story begins paying respects to two of the most exceptional individuals of the modern era.

Residing in Baltimore, Maryland, the singular Doctor Hannibal Lecter; decorated surgeon, retired, now known to possess elegant rooms wherein he spends his practicing days engrossed in the miracle of the human mind. Pondering its magnitude in all its kaleidoscopic possibility as a renowned psychiatrist whose credentials and curious litany of referred patients precede him.

And his proportional muse, Special Agent, FBI consultant, lecturer on criminology and forensic analogy. Hailing from Wolf Trap, Virginia, Mister William Graham. Dog lover, capable of empathy to incontestable standards. An equally intelligent, highly educated and internally fractured young man whose intrinsic ability to distil down to the wire, the brutality of the human condition that would burst forward to commit heinous acts of unspeakable violence to mankind. All in a moment’s rage.

These two remarkable men, differing in age, appearance, ethnicity and psychological structure have been known through tales past, to be thrown together by a web of circumstance and situation most tenuous and utterly insidious.

It can be said in some regard that these men have adapted together to bolster each other as much as destroy one another. The very nature of their relationship is a multi-faceted jewel of complexity and to some extent, co-dependence. They are present in this moment together and apart. Lost in a veil of consideration to their true nature; they flourish within an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Their paths upon the mortal plane of existence forever entwined by the fabric of situation and circumstance.

They know each other. Intimately. Beneath the flesh and blood of humanity’s tenuous grasp of life, they are one in mind though not of the same mind and certainly not at the same time.

Our dramatis personae extends to another character of equal intrigue and perhaps ill-repute. Divided by the singularity of the mind and body, leading to an emotional intelligence that may be perceived as questionable if not very brave. The nature of their being remains to be seen in this sphere. However, we open upon a new chapter and leave you, dear reader to draw your own conclusions.

------------------------------------|| Want more? Follow the viper.....

- Marco Marzonni

Merry Christmas Everyone

To Everyone:

   This has been a hard year for all of us. We have suffered, loved and lost. Some of us will not be together this year. Some of us, are so grateful that we are. No matter where in the world you are, what you’ve been through, what’s happened, or what you’ve done: We’re here. Together. We made it. I wish you and your families a very well deserved, safe and happy holiday season. May we prosper together. Now and always,

 With Love,

    Small Fortunes

It hurt to leave her...

Her body in his arms. He cried tears into her hair, needing her touch. Feeling somewhat whole again because she refused to let go of him as much as he refused to let go of her. They were fated together. Bound by destinies than entwined. He couldn't resist her if he tried.

Why did he fight with her so desperately? Why did he separate himself when he needed her like the air he breathed? How long had he slept alone in his bed, his hand feeling for the warmth of her body that wasn't there. Wouldn't come.

And a thousand times he thought to himself; 'I should go see her. I should tell her I'm sorry. For hurting her. For cutting her.'

He thought it yes, but then he thought of the sin. The betrayal. That woman... Devina... He could have done it if he wanted to. Put a contract on her head. A million pounds sterling for the first man in England that executed Devina Dentent. And her fucking husband. She'd committed two fold adultery. Once against her husband. And once against his Mistress. And she was his Mistress still. He toyed with the idea of making her his fiancé. Gianna had told him to, soon after her initiation To make an honest woman of Lalienna. What if he had? What if he's proposed on his knee to her, given her the ring, begged her hand in marriage just a few weeks sooner? Would she still have betrayed him?

He didn't want to know.

He just didn't want to know.

It was best to keep things in the shallow end. Because he'd never quite learned how to swim.

And he saw the smoke when he left that morning before this mess ever came to pass. When he kissed her as he rose from their bed and sighed his love in her ear.

Something deep in him begged him to turn around. Leave the airport. Go back and get her. He was rushing things with the Austrians. This could wait couldn't it? He'd not even taken her home to Rome yet. Why was he so obsessed with securing her international passage across the border lines of different countries?

Because he wanted to establish a safe haven for her. There was no Continental in Vienna. Not yet.  But he wanted her secure in a safe country. Where she could escape the world. Her own villa, her own car. She wanted a dog. He liked dogs, he wanted her to have one. He wanted to personally go to the shelter and pick a tender pup that she could raise and love. Because she was a child still. And children needed puppies. Something to look after and grow with. To learn responsibility and love and loyalty.

Loyalty.

She had it in droves... But she drank... She got bored. An old friend from the Tower. An old lover, in spite of his best intentions, for the sake of playing nice as a guest to Athena's land. He hated those women for what they'd done to her. He hated her father. He hated her mother. He hated everything and everyone around her right now, including his High Guard that protected her like savage, snapping dogs. Because that's what he'd trained them to do. That's what Gianna wanted. That's what Lorenzo demanded.

He hated leaving her.

He promised as Christov picked up his fallen coat and bags, that he would come back. That he'd make this right. Again.

He'd fucked it up gloriously.

He always managed to fuck it up and there she was with her tender eyes and powerful embrace telling him it was alright. Because it was flesh for flesh. Blood for blood. He never did call that contract open on Devina.

He knew deep down he never would because a woman that she bedded obviously meant something, even if it was in one drunken fit of passion.

He couldn't understand it though. He'd never done these sorts of things. Cheating on lovers. It was against his ethics. Even in all his whoring, he didn't cheat of them if he was in a serious relationship. If it wasn't working, he broke it off clean and spent the night in another woman's bed. That's why he stayed single. Unattached. Evading his father's demands he marry and clean up his life and stop acting like a spoilt brat. And fucking woman like a whore. He was a disgrace.

 But Marissa changed him. For the better he thought. He wanted to marry her too. He actually bought Marissa the ring. He gave it to her.. in front of Gianna, in front of Lorenzo. Down on one knee he looked Marissa in the eye and begged her hand in marriage. To prove a point to himself more than anything. That he could do this. He could survive without a hundred flowers so long as he had one that would control him. And he craved that. To be controlled.

It didn't turn out the way he wanted it to.

None of this turned out the way he wanted it.

 So he bowed his head, shook Hector's hand and wiped at his tears, flustered and feeling extremely insignificant. Entirely small. He needed a drink. He needed to lay down a few hours. He needed to be with Lalienna and just hold her to him.

Why did the world make so much sense in the cold light of the day?

Why did it hurt so much when Christov pulled him away?

"Come on, Tino... You need to give the lady some space. You heard her, she's forgiven you. It's over now. You're both going to be okay. But you have a flight to catch. You worked hard last month trying to secure her papers, if you don't get her residency tied up you're going to piss all that hard work away. "

 He left the Continental under a single Guard. He couldn't face the others anymore. Ares, Hector, Marcus, Curtis, Tony. He felt as if he was the brunt of some big joke and no one was going to make any moves to let him in on it. He got this feeling, as Hector had said Lalienna wasn't permitted to drink... that something was going on outside his knowledge. They were professionals after all. Discreet. They knew things. And they knew how to keep him out of the loop.

He was quiet most of the drive up to the London Air Port.

"Thank you." He conceded at last.  

"Oh yeah? What for?" Chistov asked, not turning to face him. Keeping his eyes on the road.

"For helping me see the light. After so long. I was beginning to lose sense of myself."

"You never could see the forest from the trees, Tino. That's why you have a family like us. Many pairs of eyes decipher the puzzle one cannot see."

"Wise words, my friend." Santino returned. Settling back into his seat and lighting a smoke. Blowing the plume out the car window.

"I'm not sorry though. For what I said to you. About you being a pig sometimes. With girls. Why'd you cut her man? I mean really? What did you think you'd get out of it? Watching her cry? Watching her bleed? Fuck...man, seriously. I mean... What if she was carrying your baby? Would you have still fucked her up like that?"

 Santino leaned back into his seat. Covering his face with his hands. Dragging on his cigarette nervously as if the harder he smoked it the faster the answers would come.  

"No... I don't think so... I'm not that deranged. I-I don't know, please, Chris, stop pushing me. I can't take anymore. You and the crew have been at me like this for years."

"Marssia?"

"Yes, fucking Marissa! I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I told you I meant it, I'm sorry. I told her I was sorry. She still walked out on me, there was nothing more I could do to stop her. She didn't want the ring, she threw it in my face. God! Won't you ever let me live that chapter of my fucking life down?" Santino begged. The tears he was choking back on started to threaten again.

Christov was quiet for a moment. They were in the Air Port car park now, in the International Terminal. He was moments away from pulling up at the drop-off rank. He spoke again though, as they slowed in the traffic. Giving other cars way.

"She left you.. because you broke your own promise, Tino. You didn't use your head. You didn't apply the breaks even though you knew you should have. You can't do that to girls, amigo mio. You just can't. That wasn't safe, sane or consensual. You tied her up. You cut the pads off her fingers, off her toes. You whipped her like she was cattle in a field. You bled her, tortured her. Then you raped her. Even when she told you she was carrying your baby... She would have given her life if it meant to please you. She let you do those wicked things to her willingly. Because you got dark... you got depraved. She lost the child because of you, Tino. It wasn't the blood, it wasn't the sex, the knives, the whippings. It was you. She couldn't stand a world where someone as violent and twisted as that would actually be a father."

"There's no proof the baby was mine. That night, I caught her with another man in my bed. I was going to marry her.... I was going to marry her.... and she was fucking another guy. FUCK!!" He couldn't breathe. His vision was blurring. He felt the bile rise to the back of his throat and swallowed thickly. Ashamed of himself. He thought he'd buried these emotions and memories under concrete four years ago. Why was Christov tormenting him like this?

 "It was your baby dude... The other guy... Before we killed him. He confessed... To everything. That he was having a tryst with her, yes. But he always wore protection. He never came inside her. But you did... She miscarried the child after the beating you gave her. It was only six weeks old but it was still a baby, Tino. Your baby. Isn't that what all guys want eventually? To be fathers?"

 "No." He said at last. Getting out of the car as they pulled up to the curb. He picked up his coat and leather bags from the boot. He looked Chris over one last time. He was going to Vienna alone. He didn't need a guard with him. There was no danger. He was a danger to himself more than anything else.

"You saw that man today... Marquis... That man was her Lalienna's father. He wasn't ready to take responsibility for his daughter. He left her in the hands of a drunken addict so he wouldn't have to believe the child was real. Maybe he had his reasons for walking out on them. Even if they were degenerate and selfish. Everything in this life happens for a reason. I wasn't ready for marriage. I wasn't ready for children. I wasn't ready for Marissa Conti. Marissa Conti wasn't ready for me. But times have changed, Christov.... I've changed. I've come further than you give me credit for. I took responsibility for my actions today."

"Because we backed you into a corner, Tino. Otherwise you would have dragged this stalemate out and until she was driven insane. And would have sat back and enjoyed it. Because that's the kind of man you are today."

"You're wrong, Chris. I won't accept it. This half informed judgment you're piling upon me. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Lalienna betrayed me with another woman. That's the fact here. She got drunk, she knew the consequences, and rather than call me and tell me she was in the mood... she took her friend to my bed... and fucked her. And she wouldn't have told me about it either if it wasn't for the photos she'd sent me where I saw the bite marks on her neck. If I didn't come home... If I didn't punish her the way I did... She would have kept doing it, behind my back. Even if I did buy her that ring. And first it's a girl from the Tower. Then it's another old friend with history.... Then it's John fucking Wick. And where would that leave me? On the side-lines, with a wife that's an adulteress. Following her lusts like I used to. I bled Lalienna because I saw myself reflected in her eyes. I cut my initial into her throat to remind myself I was wrong. Even though I was insane with rage. And I'll remember my sin now every time I kiss her neck. That I wasn't the first one to love her. I won't be the last."

 "You really love her, eh?" Chris asked quietly.

"Yeah. I love her. But I'm not ready to be a father either. Not until I have time to work myself out." Santino admitted. Defeated, broken down.

 "Then get your shit done fast... come back. Pick her up and take her to Rome. That's where she needs to be now. Away from these distractions. Away from temptations and indiscretions. She did what she did because she's afraid of losing you. Your her Papi now. So act like it. If you can't be a father, at least be a man." Chrisov admonished.

 "I'm trying." Was all he said. He turned away. With his coat and his bags. He entered the international terminal and waited in the lounge until the next flight could take him back to Vienna. Where he had every intention of buying Lalienna a house... and a car. Where she had a new alliance with people that would protect her if she ever decided to walk out on him. Because he wouldn't...couldn't repeat the trauma of Marissa Conti.

He understood then, what Marquis had said... to his own daughter 21 years later.

That he wasn't ready to be a father.

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

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@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.