#gives the option to do a quip and the only one i have atm is the overkill one bc yk tf2 callback so i hope they didnt think i was saying

[nonsensemonkey]

there's so many things to love about love and deepspace but i think overall my absolute favorite aspect of it is just HOW MUCH of the game is tailored to YOU and YOUR tastes:

-i HATED the sounds of the english voices and if that were my only option, i wouldn't have bothered but not only do you have the option to hear them speak english, they can speak chinese, japanese and korean too. anyone that knows me knows my obsession with japanese voice acting and two of my all time faves just so happen to be voicing my two in game faves! you can read it in those languages as well. anytime im given the option to play a game in a different language, i leap.

-mc is fairly customizable. she's long and slender which doesn't fit my description but i'm so used to that in these games and (i'm so old- i dont have the energy to give toward caring about shit like this) but you can modify her face, hair (more so in photobooth) and skin. and that last bit was kinda huge to me bc not only did they include darker skin tones, they looked GOOD. there's not alot of range, no, but i'm so used to the vaguely dark skin being alittle ashy options in games (especially ones made by asian companies) that this was like a massive breath of fresh air.

-you have a storyline- well now there's two from what i understand and although you can't control who you interact with in-story, you can choose how much you interact with them outside of the story. i cannot stand rafayel- and i forget the other's name atm but i dont like him much either. i hate to see either of them coming tbh and so the fact that i'm able to CHOOSE to spend my free time with zayne/rei instead (and now sylus/shin) AHHH wonderful! like you can set it to have only the ones YOU want to interact with greet you in the cafe.

-if i didn't state this clearly enough, YOU CAN CHOOSE WHO YOU WANT TO FOCUS ON!! like, yeah, sometimes you'll do stuff where you still build your intimacy with a character you may not care for but it may not be alot.

-you can choose what they wear. you can choose what you wear (this is limited but still an option).

-you can even customize your phone and most of it is interactive! they react to your changing the text bubbles. you can suggest them changing their pfp and they either agree or reject you with little quips of their own. you can change the bg of your chat with them. you can nickname them in your phone which shows up anytime they text or call. even their online profiles! you can even give them a nickname to call you!

-i got tired of the opening theme song. like, i borderline hated it and GUESS WHAT?? I COULD CHANGE IT! (with an aurum pass) and when shin got introduced they added him to the front of the original intro where it's all light and white and brightness but it's him and darkness and red and blood and the transition was jarring and not appealing to me whatsoever and guess what??? I COULD CHANGE THAT TOO!!! so now, currently my game's welcome page is now rei working quietly to the tune of soft piano. sooooo lovely. i'll switch to shin from time to time :)

-BITCH I COULD EVEN CHANGE THE APP'S ICON AND THE NOTICATION MESSAGE!😮

like i said, there's sooooo much to love about this fucking game and this isn't even my way of trying to convince anyone else to play it. i could lol but i just know that when it first dropped so many people were shitting on it bc the ads of the boys looking like uncanny valley, creepy airbrushed dolls LMAO. idk if they still look like that now or if i've just grown fond and therefore blind but this is definitely one of those- if you like otome games, maybe don't knock it until you try it babe idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[rorykillmore]

okay this is. well. a LATE birthday fic for my friend jemi, who does not have a personal tumblr atm, but i’m sticking it here because this is where i file all my fics at this point, and because it’s also a tiny bit of a partial co-present for @xivuuarath too! 

jemi, one of the things i’ve loved most about this past year is getting the chance to write with you again and develop these new and wonderful and crazy cross-fandom dynamics just the way we used to. it’ll always mean a lot to me to be able to write with you, and i really hope i’ve done everyone in this fic justice because i cannot tell you what a DELIGHT forming this disaster of a group dynamic/eventual found family with you and storm has been!!! i can’t wait to develop them more together, but for now, this particular fic is set a little ways in the hypothetical future once they’ve all gotten to know each other a little more, and after villanelle has had... SOME kind of similar encounter with her family to the one she just had in canon. tldr: her mom sucks, she’s dead now, and villanelle ran off after burning her house down.

anyway, yeah, ENJOY!

They all look like idiots, and normally, Villanelle would delete any photo that made her look like an idiot without a second thought. But there is something kind of nice about it this time.

Villanelle supposes that maybe it’s a little unfair to blame Konstantin for the fact that her birth family turned out to be shit.

(Okay, not all of them were shit, but it is easier to pretend that they were and not that the few days she spent with them were the happiest she’s ever been in her whole life.)

Anyway, while it’s not technically his fault, he is the one who told her they were alive, and the last thing she wants right now is to go back and tell him exactly how catastrophically things did not work out.  He is no longer her handler anyway. She has to report back to Knock Out.

(Actually, she has not been on a mission recently, she has nothing to report, and Knock Out would probably not even notice if she didn’t contact him for several more days, but... Villanelle will just make up a reason to talk to him, then. He doesn’t have to know she’s wasting his time just because he makes her feel a little better.)

So she’s surprised when she texts him (or his comm frequency, however it works with Cybertronians) and gets a message back that he’s already waiting for her at Mistoffelees’.

That’s how Villanelle thinks of the house, absurdly, as belonging to Mistoffelees and Victoria -- namely because by know she knows them much better than she knows their people. Somehow, amidst the chaos of the past several days, Villanelle had entirely forgotten she’d agreed to cat-sit again (less for any pragmatic reason this time and more because she hadn’t had anything better to do, before the issue of her family had cropped up) starting this evening. She’d also forgotten that they’d all planned another marathon session of Kitchen Nightmares, and for some reason... all of this rattles her.

For some reason, when she arrives and walks up the driveway and finds Knock Out parked waiting for her, and Misto and Tugger settled side by side on the fence, she gets a strange little lump in her throat that she can’t explain.

“Finally,” Tugger complains the minute he sees her. “If any of us actually had thumbs, we may well have considered starting without you.”

“Excuse me,” Knock Out is quick to protest. “Just because it’s not exactly strategic for me to transform in the middle of a human neighborhood doesn’t mean you get to lump me in with you furballs.”

Mistoffelees rolls his eyes in an unnervingly human gesture that Villanelle is only just starting to get used to.  “I’m sure he meant ‘if any of us actually had thumbs that we could conveniently use without causing hysteria in this precise moment.’ Didn’t you, Tug?”

“Sure, darling,” Tugger says, not sounding very sincere at all.

Villanelle comes to a slow halt beside Knock Out’s alt mode, trying to bask in their familiar banter, trying to make it feel just the same as her family’s home-y sense of chaos did. It doesn’t quite work. But it does make her want... something.

“We should take a road trip!” Villanelle announces suddenly, entirely out of nowhere and without thinking about it.  Mistoffelees and Tugger turn nonplussed looks on her, and she can practically feel Knock Out figuratively side-eyeing her, and for a second she worries that they’ve noticed something’s wrong. 

But the silence only lasts for a beat before Knock Out scoffs,  “What, now? And where, exactly, were you thinking of going?”

Villanelle shrugs, undeterred by their skepticism.  “Anywhere. We could just... drive.”

“In that?” Tugger stares wide-eyed into Knock Out’s windows, and then very quickly clears his throat.  “Sorry. In him?”

“We could bring Victoria too,” Villanelle says, appealing to Misto. “Is she home?”

Mistoffelees flicks an ear uncertainly.  “She’s out at the junkyard this evening. And anyway, Villanelle, we can’t exactly up and disappear without giving the others cause for alarm --”

“So go tell them! We can wait here.  It would only be for, like, a couple of days, and your humans will not even notice since they’re not due back ‘til next week.”

“Not to agree with Tugger, but I’m still stuck at the part where I have to lug them around and get cat fur all over my interior,” Knock Out quips, rather casually considering the chaos unfolding around him. “...Not to mention, we don’t exactly have clearance for this.”

“We don’t have an assignment either,” Villanelle points out. “Do they really care what we do in our own time?”

Knock Out seems too surprised to answer, maybe because this is the first time outside their missions and their little casual reality television get-togethers that Villanelle has ever expressed such an interest in spending time together.

The cats are almost as baffled. Tugger and Misto exchange a look that Villanelle can’t quite read, before Mistoffelees settles his attention back on her.  “This is all a bit... sudden,” he starts, and it’s the fact that he sounds almost gentle that makes something in Villanelle prickle up again. Is her behavior so erratic and concerning that she’s making them feel sorry for her?

“Fine,” she cuts in, changing tracks suddenly.  “Fine! Never mind. I will take one on my own. See you all in a couple of days --”

“Er, hold on.” Knock Out recovers enough to stop her. “If you’re going to do this anyway, I might as well tag along and see that you don’t do anything careless. Otherwise I’ll have nothing to do but drive around London while you go off and have all the fun.”

Villanelle stops in her tracks.  “Do you want me to be careful, or do you want me to have fun?”

“...Is that supposed to be a trick question?”

She shrugs, still recovering her pride and wondering if she should brush him off just on principle because of it. Deep down, though, Villanelle doesn’t want to, and so instead she looks back at the cats where they’re still settled together on the fence.

On the fence. Heh. Like a metaphor.

“I think you two could use the vacation,” she tells them casually.  “Have you ever actually been on a honeymoon?”

“A what?” Mistoffelees asks as Tugger sweeps his feathery tail around him. Villanelle has started to get used to the easy affection they share between them, but it hasn’t yet ceased to give her a pang of something indecipherable each time.

“A honeymoon,” she says.  “It is something two people do when they get m -- when they love each other and want to be together forever. They go off and take a trip and kind of... celebrate their relationship.”

Tugger tilts his head ever so slightly to one side.  “And is it customary for them to bring their friends along?”

Villanelle glances at Knock Out, but if he knows anything about this particular Earth custom, he stays silent for once.  So she shrugs.  “Sure. That way it is like a party, you know?”

“I daresay neither of us do.”  Mistoffelees turns so he can meet his mate’s gaze.  Villanelle expect Tugger to have a very decisive opinion on all of this, and to state it very loudly, because that’s just how Tugger is.  So it surprises her when instead, he returns Mistoffelee’s look quietly - almost gently - and waits for his verdict.

“Is it really only going to be for a couple of days?” Mistoffelees asks cautiously at length.  Villanelle grins despite herself.

--

It is roughly a five hour drive between London and Paris, which is a bit of a pain in the ass when the taking the train shaves about half of that off, but for once Villanelle is trying to be objective about how she is probably the least inconvenienced person in this situation. The only reason Misto and Tugger aren’t stuffed in the trunk right now is because she offered to buy them cat carriers to travel in instead, and when the cats vetoed that option, she’d reluctantly promised Knock Out that she’d be the one vacuuming his back seat instead.

Even with that compromise made, though, five hours is a long time to spend in a car with someone. Especially a sentient car. They’ve already gone through the motions of arguing about the radio - a pointless endeavor, given that Knock Out is the one who controls it - and then Villanelle had tried to teach them how to play a couple of road trip games ( “Fuck, Marry, Kill” had gone the most disastrously).

Finally, Mistoffelees asks, “Was it really necessary to come so far for this... other city you described? I don’t see how it can be all that much different from London.”

He sounds almost uncomfortable, and for the first time Villanelle wonders whether he or Tugger have ever been this far from home before -- they are cats, even if they are special ones.

“Paris is nothing like London,” Villanelle insists, though she knows that alone might not mean much to him.  “-- It is the most beautiful city in the world. And if you’re in love, you have to go at least once.”

“I never figured you for the sentimental type,” Knock Out quips dryly.

"Maybe she means if you’re in love with yourself,” Misto offers.  “I suppose that describes at least three out of four of us, so --”

He breaks off at Tugger’s feigned indignant gasp and even-more-feigned swat, laughing, and Villanelle gives both of them a pointed look through the rearview mirror.

They are just made for Paris, these two. Later, they’re going to have to admit that she was right.

Knock Out sighs audibly, distracting her from her thoughts.  “You know. You really do owe me for this.”

--

Even Knock Out can’t find too much to complain about once they reach the city proper, though. Villanelle beams smugly when he admits that there’s a certain classiness about it all “as far as cities on this mudball go”, and he rolls his windows down a little so that Misto and Tugger can better appreciate the scents and sounds.

“It’s not home,” Tugger drawls, enjoying the way the wind buffets the mane of fur around his neck.  “But it’s not half bad.”

It’s home to Villanelle, though, or -- the closest thing she’s ever had to one, besides the one she just burnt to ashes. She takes them past the street where her old apartment used to be, just for nostalgia’s sake.

“The only thing about Paris is, it’s really more of a walking city,”  Villanelle tells them at length.  “Hey Knock Out -- you don’t have some kind of boat mode, do you?”

“A boat?” Knock Out echoes scathingly.  “What exactly do you take me for?”

“Okay, so, the river tour is out. But I can show you around even better from here. Just follow my lead.”

Mistoffelees leans languidly against Tugger as they share the open window, and sighs.  “What could possibly go wrong.”

To Villanelle’s credit, she does give a hell of a tour, taking them past the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe. Then they make a stop at the Pont Neuf bridge, where Villanelle positions the very bemused cats on the railing so that she can take their picture against the backdrop of the Seine.

“I can’t say I really understand the purpose of this,” Misto says for about the third time, then flattens his ears when Villanelle shushes him.

“I told you! It is easier to show you than tell you -- here, look.” She approaches to show them the image on her phone, ignoring the peculiar looks she gets from one or two passersby.  Tugger is the first to lean forward with skeptical curiosity, and then --

“-- It’s us.” His eyes go wide, and Villanelle watches his reaction with a smug sort of delight.  “Oh, that actually is marvelous.”

“I knew you would enjoy any excuse to look at yourself,” Villanelle quips in return, though in truth, it is a very nice picture if she does say so herself. Misto and Tugger look especially handsome in the photo -- you know, for cats. The sun brings streaks of vivid color out in Tugger’s fur, while Misto’s black and white pelt looks particularly glossy. They sit side by side, their sides touching, and Villanelle had captured just the right moment to preserve the glance they’d exchanged as she took the picture: Misto looking up at Tugger in "can-you-believe-what’s-happening” exasperation, and Tugger returning his gaze with something that read between amusement and the inevitable fondness he always seemed to regard the other cat with.

It’s very... them, Villanelle decides.

“It’s...” Mistoffelees seems almost uncharacteristically at a loss for words.  “...It’s like you froze a moment in time.”

Villanelle shrugs agreeably.  “Humans kind of collect them. I can get this printed, and then you can have your own physical copy, if... that is something you want?” She isn’t sure whether cats have any particular use for photos, but Tugger and Mistoffelees seem to like the idea.

“Seems a shame to waste such a handsome keepsake,” Tugger says, his eyes glinting. Misto smiles - in that very un-catlike way the Jellicles have - and looks up at Villanelle directly.

“Thank you.”

She tilts her head and almost responds, but then can’t think of anything good or clever to say. So instead, she turns to where Knock Out is still parked, the impatience practically simmering off him.

“Knock Out! Let me get one of you.”

“I don’t do autographs, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Don’t be so boring, God. Actually, we can all get in it! I will get someone to take it for us.”

It is probably only Villanelle’s perfect French that saves her from looking like a completely batshit tourist as she herds the cats over to him and needles one very confused local into taking a picture of the four of them together. Instead, she just looks like... well, a batshit French person obsessed with taking photos of herself, her two cats, and her sports car. Which is fine with her, really.

The photo turns out nice, too. Not quite as romantic as the first -- actually, it looks pretty silly. Tugger, taking advantage of Knock Out’s inability to protest while in public company, had leaped up onto his hood and sprawled out like some kind of feline model, which had made Villanelle throw her head back and cackle while in the midst of trying to scoop a begrudging Mistoffelees up into her arms. 

They all look like idiots, and normally, Villanelle would delete any photo that made her look like an idiot without a second thought. But there is something kind of nice about it this time. 

She takes them to the Luxembourg Gardens, too, where an artist asks if she can paint Mistoffelees (leaving Villanelle, Tugger, and Knock Out all quite individually offended evidently not to be considered the prettiest of the group), and then to the fish market where she figures the cats will be in heaven (shockingly, Tugger decides that Parisian food isn’t beneath him, though Misto is partial to the vanilla ice cream Villanelle buys him later).

By then, it’s getting close to nightfall, and Villanelle checks the time and then the listing on her phone. “Okay. Just one more stop. You will all like this one, I promise.”

“I think we’ve all learned by now not to trust your promises,” Mistoffelees retorts, but it’s goodnatured, a mild protest by his standards. Tugger even joins in making fun of his grumbling this time, and Knock Out has spent the last twenty minutes idly looking into things near the city he might want to do “for reconnaissance purposes” the next day, so Villanelle suspects that - not so secretly - they are all enjoying themselves.

--

The last stop is at a little park just beyond the city, where an overlook affords them a view of the Parisian lights in all their glory.  Misto and Tugger stop to enjoy it together for a little while, while Villanelle urges Knock Out to continue on up the road a little ways to find parking at...

“A drive-in theater.” Knock Out realizes, surprise lacing his tone.

Villanelle slips out the passengers side door to stretch her legs, but also to inform him:  “Drive-in is a loose term. I rented out the entire space for us tonight. I figured if we had a bit of privacy, you wouldn’t have to be stuck as a car all night.”

“I --”  Knock Out starts, then seems to register what she actually said.  Villanelle waits through the pause patiently.  “...I happen to be gorgeous in vehicle mode. As anyone with optics could tell you.”

“Yes,” Villanelle agrees, because she’s already learned how to butter him up, “But you make an even prettier robot.”

Knock Out tilts his mirror at her. His version of a side-eye, and code for I know exactly what you’re doing but I’m still flattered. “Well. I suppose this was... shockingly thoughtful of you.”  He transforms once Villanelle takes another step back, and then crouches down to eye her suspiciously. “Uncharacteristically, one might even say.”

But Villanelle has no real ulterior motives, this time.  She is just happy they all came with her to her favorite city in the world for no other reason than because she asked. Instead of saying that aloud, though, she redirects her attention to the overlook, where Tugger and Misto’s silhouettes are visible.  “Do you think they are enjoying their honeymoon?”

“How would I know?” Knock Out flippantly tilts his head to consider the pair. Misto tucks himself against Tugger’s side, and Tugger wraps his tail around the tom’s smaller frame as if they’ve done this thousands of times before. They look so... still. So content, in a way Villanelle isn’t used to imagining them. “I’m not an expert on the mushy stuff.”

“Really? You don’t have anyone?”

“I...” That actually gets Knock Out to hesitate, his expression unreadable. “...Think it’s inappropriate to divulge that kind of information between agent and handler.”

Villanelle nods ruefully. Konstantin had always been smart enough to avoid talking about his personal life with her, too. “I have someone,” she announces quietly, the status of the actual having be damned. “I might tell you about her someday. But --”  And before Knock Out can react to that, she shifts her attention back to the cats again. “I think they really love each other.”

“That seems like a safe assumption,” Knock Out quips dryly.  “Why do you even care?”

Why does she care? Envy? Her usual fascination with other people’s emotions, the ones that are always just out of reach for her? Neither of those feel right, but Villanelle doesn’t know the name for what is.

It just... feels better, knowing that Mistoffelees and Tugger have each other. It makes something in her calm strangely when she thinks of them.

She just shrugs again, in the end. And then the cats are getting up and coming back around to meet them, and Villanelle shoos away whatever she was feeling or pondering feeling and gives them an elegant smirk.  “Finally decided to join us, lovebirds?”

Tugger smirks right back up at her. “Personally, I would have been quite happy to spend the rest of my night watching the city lights, but Mistoffelees here seemed to feel that would have been terribly discourteous of us both.”

“It is your honeymoon,” Villanelle points out, because despite her teasing she wouldn’t really have minded. Her and Knock Out have a movie they could have entertained themselves with, after all.

“Yes,” Misto agrees lightly. “And I don’t think it’ll be one we’ll ever forget. Especially if you’ve chosen a decent... movie for us.”

“Please, Mistoffelees,” Villanelle mimics Tugger using his full name, because she enjoys the way it rolls off her tongue and she knows her accent makes it sound a little funny. “Surely you trust my taste by now.”

“Not unconditionally.” 

“It’s French,” Villanelle promises them as she goes to turn on the screen.  “-Ish. And romantic. You will watch it, and be grateful that your lives are not anywhere near as terrible as this couple’s are!”

“Moulin Rouge?” Knock Out asks in confusion as the title screen pops up.  “I’m not sure I understand the need for dramatics. It all ends happily enough, doesn’t it?”

Villanelle stares back at him wordlessly, one eyebrow raised.

“...It... I may have caught Starscream watching it once. And I’m positive they get back together safely at the end.”

“Do not spoil it for the cats!” Villanelle tries not to sound too gleeful at this newly collected potential blackmail on the Decepticon second-in-command. She sits down in the grass by Knock Out’s feet, and Tugger settles in beside her with Misto at his side, and Villanelle spends a moment reflecting that it would be really fun to teach them some of these songs.

She wonders if cats can technically sing?

[italiasoloitalia]

Days 20, 21: Pescara del Tronto

Glimpses of the turquoise waters of the Adriatic as take the autostradale towards Pescara del Tronto. Green, lush patchwork countryside to our right. We decide to overnight in Ascoli Piceno though my cousin Anna is in Rome atm so we stay at Torre 100. Straight into Piazza del Popolo to see that beautiful space and have a coffee at Caffe Meletti. Yay! It is the quiet of siesta time but we explore the major buildings and churches around it and Piazza Arringo. Medieval history at every turn. Several buildings showing repair work yo earthquake damage.

After a refresh and feet up we return for aperitivo and the piazza is glowing in the afternoon sun, there is a group of well-dressed family members gathered in the centre, cones of confetti at the ready as they await the bridal couple from the civil ceremony in the comune. Pigeons swoop, children bike, families circle and the scene is a delight. Dinner nearby at Trattoria Nonna Nina begins with Oliva Ascolane, certamente, they’re very good though the olive has not been peeled (a la orange) but split and stuffed - the olive itself is ‘fleshier’: 8 olives for 5€! Not $4 each like in Melbourne that time! A beautiful stroll back through lively streets.

Pear-shaped! It had to happen I guess for things too good - Glenn wakes after a restless night, dizzy and unbalanced on his feet, slightly nauseous. One would forgive forgive us for 😱😨 ... stroke? after friends’ recent events. 🤔 middle ear/vertigo ? Because we were to be iheading to the somewhat isolated village with limited access to medical care, I thought doctor best option but not so...ambulance to hospital 🤢 where within the hour he’s on a drip, followed by a ‘tac’ (head scan), followed by a specialist otorino (ent) who diagnoses middle ear/ vertigo, medication and I’m guiding wobbly-boot to taxi at 2pm. Amazing service and attention from hotel staff, three lovely female ambo’s, nurses and orderlies....all for...zip, niente! 😲

The hotel have kept our room and as we enter, Caterina my cousin rings - we were to be calling her tomorrow and I had not wanted to trouble them with this until tomorrow. I asked what made you call, “ti sentivo vicino” (I felt you near) 😌

We decide to let G rest and tomorrow they will come to drive our car to village as G of course should not drive till that dizziness goes 🙄. I scurry out to fill the script and ... the first rain of our holiday descends - thunder cracking, torrential, hail kinda rain .. yep, pear-shaped

“Don’t complain” I mutter as I trudge along - the first hiccup...(non è grave, solo fastidioso: not grave just annoying said dottore) and hopefully within a few days he’ll be ok and to top it off, we’ll be with famiglia. Next hiccup, farmacia doesn’t have one of the medications, ritorna domani mattina - I anxiously respond “but that will delay his recovery”...no, no the compresse (capsules) will be the help, intanto. All this today in Italian mind you! Exhausted, I pull in out of the torrent into a welcoming bar to get a bite for G and a welcome macchiatone! Forza Leda!

A picnic dinner in and early night after getting in touch with my family in Pescara del Tronto and they insist they will come in tomorrow morning to drive our car back to paese. I’m at la farmacia on the dot of 9am after having called into the same bar for a cappuccino. Must say I felt like a local on the way back, a signora having done her morning chore and back home. Now is the time for me to put on my infermiera 👩‍⚕️hat and administer G’s prescribed puntara (injection). 😱🤷‍♀️. Gs not convinced I can manage so I go downstairs to prega help from the lovely signora first aid and she is happy to help I’ll simpatico 🙄 signore by showing me how. I plunge that needle with a good jab 🤨 and we head downstairs to see Vinicio on doorstep 😍🤗. We’re off and V and I jabber on the way while poor G keeps his eyes straight ahead. We slow as we pass the paesi along the via Salaria, all affected by the earthquake. PdelT from the road below is as awful as we’d seen and heard via the internet and we move on to the area on the flat near il Fiume Tronto where the ‘provisorio’ casetti (‘provisional little houses’) have been built, together with little shops, bar and community areas, to those who chose to stay in the area instead of relocating, until decisions re future permanent situations are made.

My mother’s family are there with open arms, tears and an heartwarming welcome. Their suffering over the past two years is palpable but they are making the best of their straightened circumstances by beautifying their homes, frequent gatherings, celebrations and planning for the future. The table is set and we await the arrival of family by sharing news, photos and calling Mum. More tears, passing the phone around to all though not mentioning anything to her about G - she’s been praying constantly for our safe journey and we wouldn’t want to shake that faith! g is not himself but putting a brave face on it and when lunch is served he’s given the head of the table and much fun, hand-waving translations and feasting begins. It’s 4pm before coffee is served after prosciutto and melon, lasagne, arrosto di manzo con verdure, piselli con prosciutto, insalata, pomodori e citriole, frutta and zuppa inglese 🤭. G thankfully is not nauseous and able to satisfy the “mangia, mangia” on repeat though is head is still spinning and is wobbly on his feet. Poor thing. I leave him to rest still why I’m taken up to see the village up close. It’s devastating and we are able to walk the upper road where my father’s childhood home stood. It’s mostly rubble save for the cantina which is amazingly in place. A little park near my aunt’s home is now the site of a memorial and there are t-shirts with images of the victims strung along the fence. Very moving as my cousin Pierino goes along telling me who they were and little anecdotes about how and why. Most were not from the village but visiting for summer. At my Zia Fenisia’s home I recognised the edges of the marble stairwell that I so well remember and remnants of the little green tiles that dotted the terrazzo at the front of the house. 😰. It is pleasing to see the beloved Fontana (drinking fountain and one time clothes-washing site), whose renowned water stems from the fantastic Monte Vettore which looms above and behind, has survived but unlikely to remain.

Up to the cimitero to visit the crypts of all the family members on both sides of our family that have passed away over the years and it makes for an emotional day of both joy and sadness. Our family names of Rendina and Filotei are abundant and gives my sense of belonging even more piquancy.

We return and preparations are in progress for dinner 🤭😳 and G is doing ok having had some funny and interesting exchanges in Italglish. So much ribbing, dry and witty remarks tells the story of people who know each other so well, spend a lot of time together yet are caring and respectful. A ‘light’ cena of frittata con buffala, leftovers from lunch, more prosciutto and cheeses, frutta and a ‘marscapone’ (tiramisu but with a very light and loose creamy mascarpone). Uffa! A great day but I need to get Mr Wobby-boot to bed so my kind cousins drive us to nearby Agriturismo Grisciano and will collect us again in morning.

We sleep like logs and wake several times towards morning when everything is dark...dormi says G, it’s still night, dormi says I the next time...finally G gets up to open the shutters to a brilliant sun and it’s 9.30am 🙄😬😆. A cappuccino before we are collected and back to family where the women have been to church and I go to meet them and check out the new church of Santa Croce di PdelT where the original bell has been returned and erected. Inside, only the ancient crucifix and a wooden statue of Our Lady have been saved from the old church which sadly had housed ancient relics. Two new bells are planned in addition to the original and it is lovely to see and know that this important part of their lives is resurrected (😏) and continues to sustain them.

The women are off to the bar for an aperitivo and I am taken in arm ... G tags along but then scampers after the men, making the women laugh with his horrified face and ‘chattering’ gesticulations. Cries of “quando e simpatico!” have him 💁🏼‍♂️🤦‍♀️

Crodino’s (a non-alcoholic Campari-ish fizzy) all ‘round, a platter of olive-oiled bread, prosciutto and lonza and I am joining in the banter like a local. Such fun. That would have done me for lunch but we apparently lunch is at the new ristorante on site! On our way, meetings with many who again introduced themselves as amiche and parenti of my mother, sending her regards and telling anecdotes of their relationship. Sweet.

Lunch is funny - talk about fussy about their food! The trouble is of course that they eat so well at home, that going out never, or rarely, meets their expectations. The antipasti of meats and local cheeses was served (trendily) on wooden platters but as whole salamis and cheeses with knives to slice for yourself. My cousin quipped “when it comes time to pay the bill, I’ll take it outside and leave it there for them to get for themselves”! 🤣. The fantastic spaghetti all’amatriciana had pecorino cheese in the sauce(🤦‍♀️🙇‍♂️); the tagliatelle ai funghi had too many other kinds (and too much of them) and not enough porcini (🤦‍♀️🙇‍♂️); Leda wanted agnello, there wasn’t enough, said Pierino, the potatoes are burnt said Vinicio...let me say, it was all delicious (we’d be very happy for it to be our local!) and it added to our fun!

It’s decided ‘una scarpata’ (a jaunt) to Castelluccio to show us the beginning of the famed ‘la fioratura’ (flowering) of the lentil plains of Monte Vettore, about 15 kms away. I had been with my family when we came when I was 15 and Dad had so wanted us to see it and relive the times he used to climb up from PdelT to tend to fields with his zaino (backpack) of bread and tinned beef (Simmenthal). It is a spectacular drive up and so beautiful in the afternoon light. Castelluccio too was virtually destroyed in the earthquake and the proprietors of the many shops and restaurants have set up food trucks as an interim measure until a restaurant plaza is finished. It is busy with visitors and we are invited for a coffee at the one remaining Agriturismo la Valle Delle Aquile owned by friends of Linda (Vinicio’s daughter) and her boyfriend GianLuca. A fabulous view which is supposed to be even better at sunrise. Next time? The flowers are just beginning to open and the poppies this year are late but it is something I’d love to see at its peak (early to mid July usually). Still, stunning.

The table is laid...again...🤦‍♀️ but the freshest local buffala mozzarella and sweet tomatoes, stracchino and other local cheeses, salads, carciofi, salami, prosciutto etc is hard to resist amidst the cries of “magari un pocchino” (even just a little). Dolci, more, then we’re taken over to the con.tain.errr where they have community gatherings with a kitchen, tables, tv and even karaoke (😫) and all manner of boxes are taken out for us to choose some PdelT mementoes for the family. Lovely.

We are driven back to Grisciano for the night and,all being well, G will drive us back in the morning to farewell before we move on to Orvieto. Yes, many tears, warm embraces, loving wishes to all in the family later and we leave. Such a wonderful few days, even though emotionally draining, my heart is full.

It was fortuitous (or from mum’s prayers🤔) that G’s vertigo thing happened when it did as we were able to work around it in a safe harbour. It’s improving (slightly) daily and it’s more likely, Dr G thinks, stemming from neck exercises and movements he did rather than any middle ear issue.

Orvieto, here we, slowly, come.