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[marcellabelanades]

Details are something she's been going over in her head for a hot minute on account of she'd never been like most little girls. She'd never really put much thought into a wedding, had sometimes thought the whole ordeal superfluous or downright a waste. And it's kind of different now because she does have Ciro and she does have friends and as her fiance fastens her necklace, she takes a breath she doesn't need to take just to steady herself. "Something small, I think. The coven maybe, a few friends." Marcella meets his eyes in the mirror of her vanity and she's so happy she can't blush in the moment but her lips do curve into a soft smile. "I'd like to wear black, if that's alright."

"Only if I had a reason to be." Ciro turned towards Marcella at her vanity. They were beating around the bush still about moving in together, but it seemed the natural course of action, all things considered. He wouldn't ask her to give up her home, not when the property was such a good investment, and he would always have his duties within the halls of the Amaranthus, so living close to his ancestral home was essential. But these details could be sorted out later; they had little but time ahead. Still playful, he added. "Which I don't think I do, in case that wasn't clear."

Marcella had laid a necklace on her table that Ciro reached over her to grab. He carefully lifted her hair to place it around her neck. "I know you, Marcella." As if to stay that he knew her longest-standing relationship was with her flat iron. "We haven't discussed details yet," Ciro would have been content with a judge in a courthouse but Marcella deserved more, much more. "I saw once where a bride wore black, and everyone else had to wear white."

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"Would you be?" Marcella turns her head to look at him from where she sits at her vanity table, her hands pausing in dragging a brush through her hair. It's not something she's ever really thought about, him being jealous and it dawns on her that most of her friends are notoriously male. "You know that you're one of the few people I've ever had romantic feelings for, right?" It's almost less to him and more of a realization voiced out loud. Being a vampire, becoming something by nature so full of grace and natural beauty, had made her realize that she hadn't quite thought too much of herself as a witch. Surely no one would be into some feral swamp child and so she'd just rarely put herself out there. "You and maybe Gary Oldman as Dracula."

@marcellabelanades location: Mojo Dojo Casa Marcella's House notes: kiss kiss, call this pre-wolfchella before Marcella goes to pick up Vinny.

Engaged life was outstandingly different from single life, at least this time around it was nothing like what Ciro had remembered from before. Then again, Ciro was only a few amalgamated pieces of the man he'd been throughout their engagement. The grave prodigy who'd taken Neva's every word to heart had fallen away to a debaucherous hedonist who couldn't stand the sight of himself sober. Ciro retained the nobility of his family name, though he'd learned to loosen the reins in order to come into himself. Marcella was part of that, Ezekiel perhaps played the greatest part in it though.

"A lesser man would feel threatened that you plan on taking someone else to Wolfchella." Ciro would be working the entire time anyway, he and Salvador were unveiling a new wine that was tailored towards the lycans very distinct metabolisms and palettes. Strong alcohol and milkbones, it was a winning combination. Ciro finished with the last of his buttons on his attire as he straightened at his reflection in the mirror, from behind his glasses his eyes flicked towards Marcella's reflection behind him. Playfully, Ciro asked, "Should I be worried?"

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Person: @ofromulan Location: The Booths For all of the time she'd been in Rome, aside from Cloe at Canal Cakes, Marcella had been fortunate enough to steer clear of the senate for the most part. But she knows who is who of the Pluto vampires and she knows that the man in line in front of her for a garlic knot is Xerxes. He's not wearing a shirt but that's also to be expected, to quote her late best friend, Wolfchella went crazy. "Xerxes, right?" Should she call him sir? Senator? She wasn't quite sure how formal to be. "I heard you're doing the strength competition."

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Person: @amicocasio Location: Old Frascati Booth "Can I ask you a favor?" Part of her wonders if it's a bit of a rhetorical questions but she doesn't really want to think too hard on it. Ciro and Amico were witch and familiar, but they behaved much like brothers, he was going to be family to her when her and Ciro tied the....Marcella really didn't want to think about any kind of knots that weren't garlic at the moment.

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Person: @vincenzodives Location: Off to the side of the stage "I can't believe they got My Chemical Romance." Not a cover band, the actual American Rock Band My Chemical Romance themselves, straight out of New Jersey. And there she was looking like an extra from one of their music videos, fangs and all now. Grinning at Vinny, flashing gold fangs, because she couldn't not wear them, it's all a lot. What had been loud before was nearly sensory overload but she was more than a little excited to be there. And who else would she rather spend her time with than the person who'd accompanied her last year? "Do you want to get drinks?"

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"He is, yes. It is a long story that I plan on telling you at Lupercalia." After a couple of drinks and twirls to whatever bands the wolves had managed to get this year, she'd find them. Despite everything that had happened the year previously, while she'd actually been at the fairgrounds, it'd been the best time she'd had in Rome. Nothing will ever be the same. Marcella can't help but fondly scoff because they have a valid point about all of it. There is only forward for them now. "That might be so, but I hear I'll be around an awful long time now. And as long as I'm here, you and I will be the same." For just a second, she hears Zeke's voice in the back of her head and she's glad she's sitting down already. He had made her promise that they'd still be friends after he turned her, they were supposed to be best friends forever. That's something she's going to think about forever. That's something that she's going to extend to those she has left.

There's a genuine smile that flourishes; Eric would never understand the loss of magic she had to grapple with but everyone could understand that a witch's power was fundamental to their very being and Marcella had chosen the ultimate sacrifice to preserve herself. She'd lost this massive piece of her and would have to live with that, survive off of what remained, but not many would have her grit and courage; Marcella deserved this bashful happiness that came with the honeymoon feeling of a secured relationship. "It seems pretty serious to me," mirroring her tone, the Exile offers a mild grin, the overtone of their conversation is still staggeringly mournful, but they find comfort in the rare splices of happiness that pepper through. "Are they- were they.. -they're a witch?" Eric stumbled, it was hard not to gravitate towards reminding Marcella of what she'd lost, it'd always be this unwavering presence that crept up when she'd least expect it. "Nothing will ever be the same, but we'll get new chances, new comforts; there's light at the end of the tunnel," even if it feels so far away.

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Valentine's Day Scrapbook: Ciro & Marcella

"I'll follow you into the park Through the jungle, through the dark Girl, I never loved one like you" - "Home", Edward Sharp & the Magnetic Zeros

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Marcella, Lupercalia

"Ah, jeez. I think I need one of those $8 beers." - Hank Hill, King of the Hill

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She thinks she gets it fully, being a little uncomfortable just about anywhere. It's not something easily shakeable and perhaps it comes from a long time of feeling uncomfortable in her skin, in her power. Marcella had always thought she would be something more. Had always wanted to be something more. And for what? To appease a mother that had poisoned her father and failed to bring him back? She'd already done circles around the woman, what did she have to gain showing her up now? Perhaps there really was something to all of that 'living well is the best revenge' sentiment. "I am seeing someone and it might be serious." There's something vaguely playful about her tone and she's still happy that her cheeks can't color anymore. There's no ring on her finger, not yet, but there would be eventually. "But that aside, I'm dedicated to helping Hakan just kind of....Adjust." Her smile turns to a thin line and her shoulders raise in a light shrug.

"Oh, right," more witches Eric had barely spoken to, surrounded by an entire coven but only having reached out to the rare few; Marcella, August, the Pythia. The former two may have been easy to rebuild with but it was clear the Pythia had devised them as another enemy upon the Archfiend's long list. Lupercal became a sort of sanctuary from them, this belief that the once Exile would be protected from any influence the Pythia may have wished to still extend upon their life; she'd already converted them from a volatile. It was a delusion but Eric was always a little delusional; though lycans may be typically free from the clutches of magic, the Pythia had gotten to them and Eric was certain it'd be effortless for them to do so again. "I think I'll always be a little uncomfortable anywhere I end up," a small smile that spoke of the fact that yes, they were indeed happier, safer, not so uncomfortable as they'd once been within the Asphodel house. "What's next for you? Don't these bloodlines have palaces or whatever?"

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Wide eyed and being dipped, Marcella thanks her newfound grace for keeping a light hold on Ciro's shoulder at the confession. She is left blinking and her first instinct is to wave off such a thing. But she can't because they'd all but said it without words over and over. Smiling up at him, her free hand reaching for his face, she takes a breath she doesn't need to take. "I love you, too." The words feel foreign on her tongue, like her mouth is moving but someone else is speaking for her. The thing is she can picture herself in some long and lacy black gown, surrounded by candlelight and holding a bouquet of dark flowers. Ciro would lift the long, trailing veil from her face and she'd repeat those words. She just wished Zeke would be there to see it. But she knew he wanted her to be happy, seemed to be at his best when she was actively having a good time. And looking up at Ciro, at stroking a thumb across his cheek, she's happy. There's no family at her back that didn't support her, there's no threat of the Asphodel, there's a future here with him. "I love you and we're getting married." Righting herself upright, she lets it sink in and she takes his face in her hands and she kisses him again. There's nothing sweet about it, it's eager and it's passionate. It's the kiss she's really wanted to give him since he first stood there ranting in her living room.

Okay was as good as yes. After further confirmation, Ciro reached forward and affectionately brushed some of Marcella's smoothed hair away from her features. It felt a tad ridiculous that it had taken them this long to see what was right in front of them, but in hindsight, a great deal had obscured the bigger picture. Too much of their nature was made up of rebelliousness, falling in love with the person you'd been arranged to be married with? The notion was ridiculous and bordered on defamatory, but here Ciro was, in love.

Something reasonable and intimate, a graveyard maybe; this castle had to have a vast one somewhere across its expansive grounds. There would be time for that again later, though, for now, he turned the other and dipped her as he'd done at the Midsommar horror show. Into the air that lingered between their lips, Ciro made another statement, this declaration was just as bold and just as truthful as his previous incantation. "I love you, Marcella Belanades."

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hakan | rome castle

main area: there are several winding hallways that seem endless to anyone wandering them. you are bound to find a different part of the castle with every corner you turn. you may just end up in the library or even one of the many music rooms. there is a dining room that is rarely used and statues lining every hallway and every room within the castle. also, watch out for the rats. they're scurrying everywhere. hakan's wing: normally, he will be sleeping in a coffin. he spends most nights awake and most days within said coffin. however, he does have a bed he has started using lately due to certain extracurriculars (aka the twink brigade he wakes up to when he's not with gael) that just cannot be contained in such a small area. there is also a grand throne that he sits in either when he's depressed or there's a party to be throne. gael's chambers: off of hakan's wing lies gael's chambers which can only be classified as a dungeon. there's the human's beloved cage and a bunch of other 'tools' that could also be described as hakan's extracurricular activities (aka bdsm). the key used to be under the cage, but after he kicked gael out for a while, it stays permanently within his pocket. where gael is wandering in the castle now is a mystery to him. guy just shows up at the right time. @appetizinggael marcella's wing: the swamp queen herself moved in after tragic events that brought grandpa and granddaughter together. she has done a little bit more renovation than he could have anticipated, but it's her wing so he doesn't care as long as she doesn't moved the cobwebs. @marcellabelanades venerio's wing: rat prince moved in after tragic events, but grandpa and grandson are not all that close yet. he does like that venerio hasn't changed much. however, he's also urged the guy to maybe do some fixing up. again, don't move the cobwebs. the rats like it. @veneriovescovi

not seen

ezekiel's wing: it once had quite a few things that made it his former progeny's own place, but it has since been torn apart. nobody is allowed to enter that area. salvador's wing: now empty, his only progeny left recently to go somewhere hakan has no idea about. he's never bothered to ask sally about his whereabouts because that's just never been their relationship. if his progeny needs a place to stay, he knows where he can go. @salvadormairena

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Tattoo Tour: Marcella

1. Big ole' snake back piece, This one is her favorite, it's only maybe 3 years old and was done before she moved to Rome. 2. Florals behind left ear. 3. Moon & rose on left shoulder. 4. Scorpion for her Zodiac sign right in the crook of her hip. 5. Raven on right arm, also a fave. 6. "From my rotten body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity' Edvard Munch quote on right upper thigh. 7. Spidery blackberries on arm. 8. The newest edition is a bat on her wrist for Zeke, a little reminder.

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She wants to just say it over and over. That he doesn't mean it, that it's a party, there's been drinking. It would be so easy to keep brushing it off. And she could, but despite how much she tries to push it all under the rug, she keeps coming back. There was a reason she'd called him that night, a reason she'd been thinking about him after all these years. Marcella stops shaking her head and her hands find either side of his face. Her mouth opens to speak but the words won't come out. It felt a bit like she was fighting fate, she had given up her magic, she had become something else entirely. That had been running away, she'd ran to what felt like the ends of the Earth and still he held her. "Okay." Tilting her face, she rests her forehead to his. He had a fair point, they were wasting time. They had already wasted so much. The crisis that he wasn't going to be around for all of her life could wait. At least long enough for her to press her lips to his this time. It's brief but it's a promise. "Okay." When she nods her nose brushes against his and the word, the acceptance, all starts to sink in slowly and then all at once. A hand smooths into his hair and she can't help but laugh just a little at the ridiculousness of it all. He has been here this whole time, a phonecall away, someone who really, truly understands her, someone who cares for her. "I'll marry you."

"You know me better than that." Ciro's hand moved down to the small of Marcella's back, the other brushed affectionately through the long hair that fell past her shoulders. "You know I've never said anything I didn't mean, but this, this is something I've put a lot of thought towards." Logically, the two of them just made sense; they always had, even when denying what was right in front of them. "You need someone to stand by your side, as I do. You're immortal and going to live forever, but if I get to spend what mortal years I have with you, then I would count myself lucky. You and I make sense, Marcella. So if I only have a few decades to be your husband, I have no interest in wasting more time. Marry me."

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It seems like the apology kind of throws the witch for a loop and she gets that. It was such a strange thing to do, apologize for something she'd really meant. It hadn't been something she'd really thought about at the time, kissing him. It'd felt so natural, like something she was meant to do and standing there, she couldn't help but think that she would do it again. About how she kind of regretted not kissing him when he'd been drunk in her living room, bottle of wine in one hand, eyes staring at her tits as he talked about Rome. She remembered being a teenager and seeing him, knowing that she was promised to him. Petulant attitude and teenage rebellion aside, she remembered there'd been a brief 'what if' that she didn't think she could ever outright let go of. Because she had thought that maybe it was something she had deserved for all she'd been through in her life, a practical Amaranthus prince. Marcella would be lying if she said she hadn't thought of what their life could be together. And then he kisses her. He kisses her and she stands stock still at the shock of it all before she's thinking about the war and seeing him die, refusing her bite, and she kisses him back as if she could bring that man back to life, her hands finding the sides of his face. She kisses him because she had wanted to that night she'd called him from her kitchen, her back against her cabinets. But they part on his account and those two words have her desperately fighting to not just burst into a cloud of bats right then and there. "You don't mean that." He can't possibly, not after everything, not after everything she'd done.

At Christmas, you were supposed to tell the people who mattered to you just how much they mattered. Ciro could spend his life resenting Marcella for where her path had led her, or he could look beyond that, rise above, and be sensible. Naturally, he hadn't forgotten the feel of her lips on his or the absence he had felt after she had left. Truthfully, that precise moment before she'd left him there in the dust was something that he had replayed repeatedly. A record that Ciro had worn and scratched down until nothing was left. Marcella wasn't just out of his league because she had the best tits in the city by a mile; she was precious enough to him that he'd torch the town and all his beliefs if it meant he could walk by her side.

"Don't be." It was like any regular statement of fact; there were weeks - months - of silence between them. He'd offered a supportive hand on the steps towards Ezekiel's funeral, a few choice words here and there, but along the path to where Ciro stood now, he'd put together the pieces of all that it meant to be a vampire. At least, all that it meant for Marcella, her dark, macabre family of death and tragedy. He'd feared for a time that her grief had left her alone, but it had been over two months since Ezekiel had died, and Ciro was not sure if he was even resentful anymore or just... No, he knew what he was. He'd known it the moment he'd laid eyes upon her outside the steps of the forum, he'd known it the moment she'd brushed his lips against his and then run off, and he'd known it the moment he'd answered his phone in the middle of that unfortunate night.

Ciro kissed her without a second, though Marcella had dictated the action last time, but with her back against the balcony railing, she couldn't simply disappear as she had before. Ciro kissed her because he'd longed to for ages, because last time she had caught him unaware, he hadn't been allowed to kiss her how Marcella ought to be. With languid prose and the steady beating of his heart ringing in his ears, Ciro's hand covered the curve of Marcella's jaw before he broke the exchange for a moment to make a singular, practical statement. "Marry me." It wasn't a question; he knew she loved him, and she had to know he loved her. They were too pragmatic to do anything but spend their lives together if the two of them were resolved to do so.

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"I don't either." She wasn't really one for celebrating in general. Her mother hadn't cared for Christmas or birthdays, anything like that. Samhain, any kind of solstice, that was the kind of thing her mother had been into, had told her was worth celebrating. And as far as parties went, she was an observer, someone who went to them and drank too much wine to hide her social anxiety. In truth, Marcella doesn't really know what she's doing, but she does know that she's not alone. It's a thought she clings to in her grief, that Hakan is suffering just as much, even more than she is. His hand touches her shoulder and she can't quite help herself. Her arms go around his taller frame, her face against his chest and she doesn't quite know him like this. It's brief, the hug and then she's stepping back far too quickly, standing there with her hands clasped together. "I think the cobwebs can stay." Her voice sounds so quiet to her own ears, so shy and she's so glad that she can't actually blush anymore.

A forced smile was all he could muster up for her sake. It was not as if he disliked her. In actuality, the two of them were very similar in disposition. Well, that was what it seemed like ninety percent of the time. He had not gone out of his way to look into her life yet like he did with his progenies. He would have to soon though. Ezekiel had turned her and that had to mean something. Not that he needed his lost progeny's go ahead on who to like. Anyway, he got up from his coffin and stood in front of her. A hand dropped to her shoulder as he looked into her eyes. "We are." He pulled his hand away and looked around. "I do not normally celebrate holidays so you must forgive me if I seem like some old man looking for decorations."