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[jiningold]

     A confused frown pressed itself upon Jin's features before she saw the glimmer of irritation. She pushed her visible worry away. Jin wished she could refuse the lady's "reward," but Jin was no good with forming platitudes. The mention of Alexander Sextus was a welcome out. "The Holy Father may be Spanish, Madonna, but he acts like a true-born Italian."

"How kind of you to come to his assistance," Constanza told her, nodding her head. "You shall be rewarded for your actions, I am grateful." The Orsini duchess made a mental note to send some money or some other small gift to the market stall the girl’s brother ran, as she knew the value that generosity could have in their society. "What is the mood like in Firenze?” Constanza asked, swiftly changing the topic of conversation. She could see some concern in the girl’s eyes, no doubt over the letter, and it displeased her when others worried about her own private business. “Have the people become accustomed to having a Spanish Pope?”

[jiningold]

     Jin felt oddly out of place at the piazza. It had been consumed by the freaks of the world, from both far and near. For once, she was not the one with stares to deflect- but the performers did not deflect the stares of the rapt crowd- rather, they returned them brashly, even reveled in them. She kept her eyes low, avoiding eye contact. Even though her hood was down, Jin blended seamlessly, passed through crowds as if she were a shadow.

     Still wafting through the crowd, Jin eyed the people laughing, chattering, and loosing their troubles in the oddities surrounding them. Among them was a young woman who caught Jin's eye. She seemed to Jin to be singular in her solidarity, a sweet pale rose amongst the grit and sweat of Firenze. The lady was watching some children at play. Approaching the young woman, Jin felt a calm sort of feeling wash over her.

     "The innocence of children are a crowning jewel to any city, no?" she asked, hoping to strike up a conversation.

Of Beasts and Bravery — Jin&Isabella

                Isabella did not care for the circus. The roars of lions and tigers kept her awake, like the howls of demons. She was just a little girl, the Salviati family still welcome in Florence, the last time she had attended a circus. The music and chatter had disappeared in her silent head, but she could still remember the sights she’d seen, and they had haunted her. The snake charmers, manipulating beasts like the one that had brought Eve to her fall. Fire eaters who swallowed back their fear with a heavy dose of flames. And the human oddities, people too small or too large, a woman with a thick beard and a man with three legs. A monkey had taken coins from the spectators, had touched the smooth dark curls of Isabella’s hair. And she had wailed.

                The night terrors haunted her afterwards for weeks, images of the strange beings floating in her mind. She’d never liked anything strange or abnormal, differences from her simple routine, but the horrors she’d witnessed at the circus were by far the worst. Even her dearest brother had been unable to console the poor child.  

                So when the circus came to town again — Il Circo de Vento — Isabella avoided it like the plague. She can’t tune out the noise now, like she had as a child, but she took great care not to advance too close to the Piazza della Signoria. She was afraid it might somehow reach out its long claws and entrap her, drag her into its pit of savagery and darkness. 

                Isabella walked the streets during the early morning, finding them startlingly more quiet, since many of the populace had wandered off to see the extraordinary event. The market had been pushed out of its normal space, but she found a few of the vendors still hovering nearby. It  was much more to her liking, less bustling and yelling than normal, and Isa was able to marvel over a pair of jewels, probably stolen, and a new cloak of thick wool. After some consideration, she slid a few florins to the merchants hand. The warm material, once wrapped over her shoulders, kept the chilling winds at bay and delightfully covered the bulge of her stomach that was becoming more and more prominent. 

                Feeling pleased with her purchase, Isa turned for home, only to be swept up in a gaggle of children. They ran and yelled and laughed, and for a moment she laughed with them, at the dancing sparkle in their eyes and the spots of color in their cheeks. A little child like this would be hers someday soon. She couldn’t resist following behind them a ways, drawn in by their endearing vivacity and sweetness, until she realized she’d trailed them too far. The entrance to the circus hovered before her, a circle of stalls and more people than she could ever imagine. The fear struck her suddenly as the children disappeared from her sight, and she felt that same sense of distress that had caused her to cry out as a child. The young woman stood trembling in front of the joyous affair, hands wrapped around her belly, tears swarming in her eyes, and entirely unable to move.

[jiningold]

     A debate? Jin could stand for one. Perhaps Mei had begun rubbing off on her. The thought made her smile. "Did not the devil take?" was her reply to the lord beside her. Hoping she remembered the story correctly, Jin ploughed on. "The Lord gave leave for Lucifer to rip Job down, did He not?"

Surprise overtook his features for a brief moment as his mind digested her remark. Piero was certainly not the most pious Catholic, but ever since that fateful day in Il Duomo, he had an appreciation for God that compelled him to attend to mass, partake in confession, and so on. "Does the Lord not control the amount of wealth a man possesses? Job is surely an example of this, no?"

[jiningold]

     "But any move can start the game, Madonna," Jin replied plainly. She considered the board before her, now thinking in earnest. Frowning slightly at the board, she moved another pawn two spaces in front of the horse piece. Looking back up, she said, "I believe it matters more for what you do once the game has begun."

     ”Not terrible,” acknowledged Maria. Though some opening moves were wiser than others, it wasn’t entirely ill-advised to give one’s rook the space to move early on in the game. “Another rule,” illustrated now as Maria moved one of her own pawns, the one before her king, “a pawn’s first step may be one or two paces. But only their first step. Like so.”

[jiningold]

     Jin turned at her nickname, still a novelty to her- she had never had a nickname before. Just Jin had been short enough for everyone else, but this was something sweet as honey. "Maddalena!" Jin cried, just as enthusiastically. Jin watched the bright smile sour and smoothly said, "The lions could never beat a Medici, princepessa, not even in fierceness." She paused, not wanting to make Maddalena think she had been undermined, but she would have her answer anyways. "The steward at the gates said he had not heard for me to be let in." Jin said this quickly enough, not wanting to dwell on it. "But come!" Now tugging on Maddalena's hand, she pulled her towards the center of the cages. "The act will soon start!"

“Mandorla!” With a cry of joy, Maddalena split from her company and hurried forward to grab a section of the cloak that flagged the familiar face. With a great smile, she came along besides the other girl, fingers loosening hold upon the fabric. The amicable expression, however, quickly turned into a puerile scowl once they were at a standstill at the entrance of the Piazza. ”How is it that mio amico has not come to visit? Do you not have time to pass the villa, but find free hours to spend at il circo? Are lions more important than me?”

[jiningold]

     Jin sighed in frustration. "I've come to visit the lady Maddalena- she told me I would be welcome if I chose to come."

"I am afraid I received no such order from my lady, signorina. Perhaps there has been some miscommunication between us. What is your business at the Villa Medici?”

[jiningold]

     "Madonna," Jin replied smoothly", with an inclination of her head, "the Roman messenger was lost in Firenze; he bid me deliver the letter for him." Jin's heart felt perhaps a bit frayed; was the letter anything to worry about? Or had the man just been frantic to deliver the letter?

Blue eyes betraying little emotion, Constanza reached out a gloved hand and took the parchment from the young girl. She remembered her from the marketplace, and had spoken briefly to her brother, but found it strange that such a person would be delivering a letter to her. “Grazie,” she intoned, tucking the missive into the folds of her cloak. She would read it later, when she was alone. “But tell me, how did you come by this letter?”

[jiningold]

  The house was quiet when she left; really, it had been an effort to drag herself from her bed today. Mei and Shang had already left, and Jin had nothing to gain from lazing around the house. Despondent and tired, Jin meandered, hoping she could hide herself away and watch the Florentines pass her by. Can I do this for much longer, she thought, pull myself up like this?

  She was well lost into her thoughts of nothing before she ever heard the tap of footsteps that seemed headed directly for her.

[jiningold]

There are so many ways to live, but all we ever do is think about the different ways we could die.

tomorrow is uncertain, Emma Bleker

[jiningold]

  "Ah," Jin replied, "I believe man has more influence over this world that the Father above." Jin was used to curious stares; this one was no different. Automatically deflecting it, Jin asked, "Or perhaps the more wealth a man has the less the Lord has a hand in his fate."

"Certainly signorina." Piero answered, intrigued by the girl in front of him. She was of obvious foreign descent, not uncommon in Florence since his city-state fostered many merchants and artisans from all seas and lands; yet unlike the hordes he had encountered, her Italian was vicino impeccabile, almost undistinguishable from a born and bred Florentine. Amused by her bubbly reply, he continued, “The Lord must surely be smiling upon me to grant me such license.” 

[jiningold]

  She was right; this man was- well, he was something. Familiar? Maybe. Recognizable? Most definitely. Something flickered briefly on his face before disappearing, some sort of secret indeed.

  "You're not the only one, signore," Jin sighed, remembering her own mask, her own secret. What harm would it be to let it down, just this once, for a total stranger? She would most likely never see him again; Firenze was a sea of faces, and each one picked themselves out to her, if they were worth it. Maybe this one was.

  "You're good at keeping secrets, aren't you?" she questioned, when it was more of a statement. Jin realized his familiarity; it was something she saw in the looking-glass each day. She had guessed at an answer; eyes sharp, keen, searching.

acciaio sotto fuliggine || jin&ario

[jiningold]

我是金/ io sono d'oro || jin

Her skin feels nothing as needles, smooth as still water and sharp as cat's claws fly straight to her heart in the form of the only language she's ever known. Through her lungs, the splinters make it hard to breathe, even though her clothes are restrictive enough.

"Your name means gold," Shang had said absentmindedly to her over their morning meal one day. Gold, like she should be proud to bear such a name.

Gold feels nothing. It is a metal, of the earth. The earth feels no loss, because all things are borne from the earth, and all things return to it again. It is never pained, never weighed down.

Could Jin be so?

Could she return to the earth, bones to dust and ashes scattered across the city of her home?

Could she do that to her family, to Giovanni?

(Maddalena and Lucrezia may weep, but she barely knows them. They barely know her. Maybe Maddalena will paint something in Jin's memory.)

Wouldn't everything be so much easier this way? Doesn't she deserve peace that death would surely bring?

The Church doesn't bury suicides. Perhaps the Arno would welcome her instead.

[jiningold]

You are a hurricane of a girl; remember to breathe every once and a while, do not drown within your own storm.

i think i saw you smile once, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)

[jiningold]

  "I knew you would--!" said Jin, triumphant and victorious. She clung to him like a lifeline- which, in a sense, he was and her smile faded a bit remembering- but no, it was not the time for that. It never was, thought Jin, it never is, but it happens anyways. She giggled, thinking she should be feeling some sort of regret afterwards, but not even bothering herself with the notion of it. "You have the best vintages, my friend, and Shang is meticulous with his inventory." She stopped mid-stride, now somewhat serious. "But one bottle only. Come tonight to my house, an hour after sundown." She emphasized her point by poking him firmly in the chest.

"I say, with tutto il mio cuore, yes!” Grinning at her, Giovanni twined their arms together, pulling them close. It had felt like an age since they had done something like this — life had been too somber of late; leave it to Jin to understand what he needed, even before he did. “Shall we meet this evening?” he asked, starting them at a slow pace across the palazzo. They had nowhere to go, and there was no hurry, yet he wanted to bask in her company for as long as possible. Some disapproving looks were thrown their way, but who cared? Giovanni looked at Jin, their stride matched. “I’m assuming it will be my duty to provide some nourishment?” A half-tease; she wanted him to stop drinking to excess, he surprised her with new wines to taste. No one could complain when they had a Sicilian drink in their hand.

[jiningold]

You are music and whiskey Too many shots too soon I am clouds and laughter But only when I’m with you And we are drunk and dreaming And songs and meaning The forgiveness of leaving The thoughts and speaking But only when I’m with you.

—by queens of queens

[jiningold]

  "Pah," Jin scoffed, "I'll taste it and make sure his claims were true." Despite being submersed in Italian cultures, at home the Xus still kept up Chinese traditions that Jin had long forgotten. Tea was still served with every meal, even though Jin preferred spiced warm wine. Jin sat as Lucrezia bade her, glad to have some place in the villa. It was strange, finally seeing a place so often described about but now seeing it through another's eyes. Jin wondered if Lucrezia would ever call this place a home.

  "And it's no use pretending, Lucrezia, I know your pride. I find people easy to read. Why hide it? -you come from one of the most powerful bloodlines in history, and I have the feeling you're smarter than you let show." Jin prompted. Family pride was easy to come by in Italy, but the Borgias- or Borjas, as they were in their home- was a veritable fountain.

  "As for autumn- you may have the splendor of Rome, but I have mia bella Firenze." Jin said with a flourish, like a woman taking pride in her husband. "Oh, Lucrezia," she sighed, "Florence is as vivacious as a lady of the French court, and even more colourful. The marketplace bursts with the harvest, and everyone is brought alive by it. The moon has even turned orange in the fall before!" Jin was alive, her love of Florence shining out, even as her passion begot strange looks from the help.

giunte mani || jin & lucrezia

 Lucrezia watched, approvingly, as the servants scurried off to fulfill her demands before she turned, giving her full attention to her friend. “And I am delighted to hear it. I recently purchased some tea from a merchant of the sea — the richest blend that the Orient had to offer, he claimed — and have been craving a friend to sample it with. Perhaps its more exotic notes will remind you of home — Ah!" As the servants clattered out once again, balancing silver trays loaded with what she had requested, she took Jin’s hand and guided her to the long table in the center of the courtyard, taking a seat at the head, a spot that should have been reserved for Gaspar, but no one really made use of the courtyard table besides Lucrezia. With a hand, she indicated that Jin should seat herself at her left arm.

  A thrilling sense of satisfaction filled her when Jin uttered her congratulations; Lucrezia had been waiting for the inevitable from the moment she lay eyes on the ebony-haired girl in her sanctuary. “Oh, but you are too kind,” she murmured modestly, although a knowing grin tugged at her lips. “It is but my Holy Father’s humble privilege to serve the Lord. I have been quite well, thank you.” An understatement for the ages — she seemed to dance on air these days. “A touch lonely, having to stay sheltered within these walls, but I suppose it is an inexorable misfortune of la figlia del papa.” She sighed, as if the new role befell her was so hard to adjust to. “The peak of summer, at least, lies behind us. What are autumns like in Florence?”