Window Shopping
date: early july 2025
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
The sticky, heavy heat of the sun on her back was something Livia did not think she would ever become used to. The sunlight here almost reminded her of the summers she often spent in Kutaisi, a thought that brought a scowl to her lips. She forced herself to stare at the old buildings, the seas of people, the signs in Italian, to force herself out of her Georgian reminiscence.
Her father did not nudge her, did not prompt her to 'fix her face' or whatever else her mother would have said. Nonetheless, she was expected to hurry alongside him as he followed some of his coworkers to yet another ancient temple. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she let out a small huff, using the back of her hand to wipe it out of the way. She had put her hair in its usual chignon earlier in the morning, a decision that was already proving to have been well-planned. Still, a proper hairstyle and even lightweight clothes could not rid Rome of its unruly heat.
That was the only issue with this city. It was large, interesting enough, full of history and people to observe and gain more information on. However, such observation and learning remained dourly uncomfortable, and the sun never seemed to go away. The density, of course, only worsened the ever-present issue of heat, meaning that Livia often shied away from passersby she usually would have keenly watched.
Eventually, after a long and rather dry conversation with a local archaeologist, her father gave her permission to walk around—but to stay 'within Apparition distance', whatever that meant. With the understanding that she was meant to continue in her usual observations, Livia began to stroll around this area of the city, taking the time to remain in the shade whenever she could, even if the respite from the sunlight only put her closer to sweaty tourists, often of the Muggle variety. How wizards in large cities could live in such proximity to them...
A flash of sunlight against a shop window shocked Livia out of her stupor; intrigued, her wiry frame darted through the crowd and between columns until she ended up within another, this time unfamiliar, arcade. She peered into a courtyard, and, upon ascertaining that decidedly fewer loud, wet tourists congregated here, she inched towards a fountain.
On the other side of the courtyard loomed a portico, seemingly made of pale granite, albeit with water stains dripping down it. Livia's pace slowed as she neared it, ultimately placing her hand against the familiar texture of stone and smiling. Something twitched inside her as she thought of summers spent in Georgia, learning how to carve, but she set her jaw and instead entered the building behind the columns.
The glowing allure of magical lighting drew her further inside, various shopping booths nearly beckoning to the young girl and her meagre money. Already, her slender, olive-toned fingers fished around in her purse for a few sickles to pay for a fizzy water that she had to stop herself from downing. She slipped the cap on the glass bottle and gazed about her, her eyes unfocused until her stare zoomed in, like a cat to a laser, on a jewellery booth not too far across the corridor she stood in.
Livia began to walk with a purpose, her posture straight as if she were held from a puppeteer's strings, her expression impassive as she edged closer to the booth, what with its shiny lockets and glimmering jewels. As she drew nearer, though, her clinical stare caught on someone a bit smaller, younger, perhaps, than the other shoppers in the wizarding establishment. He stood shorter than she, in fact; she glanced downwards at him when she looked at him.
It was without her usual forced smile that she properly turned to him. « Ciao. Vorrei trovare... » The hint of an accent in her words would easily alert the boy that, although she was relatively capable for a girl of eleven, she was hardly a native speaker of the language. « ...eh... qualcosa di divertente da fare. » Finally, the girl smiled, and although it was still reserved, her eyes held a small glimmer of amusement, or perhaps anticipation. « Bene, mi chiamo Livia. Ho undici anni, e andrò a scuola a settembre. Non sembra molto vecchio... anche è uno studente? »
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
The sticky, heavy heat of the sun on her back was something Livia did not think she would ever become used to. The sunlight here almost reminded her of the summers she often spent in Kutaisi, a thought that brought a scowl to her lips. She forced herself to stare at the old buildings, the seas of people, the signs in Italian, to force herself out of her Georgian reminiscence.
Her father did not nudge her, did not prompt her to 'fix her face' or whatever else her mother would have said. Nonetheless, she was expected to hurry alongside him as he followed some of his coworkers to yet another ancient temple. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she let out a small huff, using the back of her hand to wipe it out of the way. She had put her hair in its usual chignon earlier in the morning, a decision that was already proving to have been well-planned. Still, a proper hairstyle and even lightweight clothes could not rid Rome of its unruly heat.
That was the only issue with this city. It was large, interesting enough, full of history and people to observe and gain more information on. However, such observation and learning remained dourly uncomfortable, and the sun never seemed to go away. The density, of course, only worsened the ever-present issue of heat, meaning that Livia often shied away from passersby she usually would have keenly watched.
Eventually, after a long and rather dry conversation with a local archaeologist, her father gave her permission to walk around—but to stay 'within Apparition distance', whatever that meant. With the understanding that she was meant to continue in her usual observations, Livia began to stroll around this area of the city, taking the time to remain in the shade whenever she could, even if the respite from the sunlight only put her closer to sweaty tourists, often of the Muggle variety. How wizards in large cities could live in such proximity to them...
A flash of sunlight against a shop window shocked Livia out of her stupor; intrigued, her wiry frame darted through the crowd and between columns until she ended up within another, this time unfamiliar, arcade. She peered into a courtyard, and, upon ascertaining that decidedly fewer loud, wet tourists congregated here, she inched towards a fountain.
On the other side of the courtyard loomed a portico, seemingly made of pale granite, albeit with water stains dripping down it. Livia's pace slowed as she neared it, ultimately placing her hand against the familiar texture of stone and smiling. Something twitched inside her as she thought of summers spent in Georgia, learning how to carve, but she set her jaw and instead entered the building behind the columns.
The glowing allure of magical lighting drew her further inside, various shopping booths nearly beckoning to the young girl and her meagre money. Already, her slender, olive-toned fingers fished around in her purse for a few sickles to pay for a fizzy water that she had to stop herself from downing. She slipped the cap on the glass bottle and gazed about her, her eyes unfocused until her stare zoomed in, like a cat to a laser, on a jewellery booth not too far across the corridor she stood in.
Livia began to walk with a purpose, her posture straight as if she were held from a puppeteer's strings, her expression impassive as she edged closer to the booth, what with its shiny lockets and glimmering jewels. As she drew nearer, though, her clinical stare caught on someone a bit smaller, younger, perhaps, than the other shoppers in the wizarding establishment. He stood shorter than she, in fact; she glanced downwards at him when she looked at him.
It was without her usual forced smile that she properly turned to him. « Ciao. Vorrei trovare... » The hint of an accent in her words would easily alert the boy that, although she was relatively capable for a girl of eleven, she was hardly a native speaker of the language. « ...eh... qualcosa di divertente da fare. » Finally, the girl smiled, and although it was still reserved, her eyes held a small glimmer of amusement, or perhaps anticipation. « Bene, mi chiamo Livia. Ho undici anni, e andrò a scuola a settembre. Non sembra molto vecchio... anche è uno studente? »
@gabriele ricci-armani
« Ciao. Vorrei trovare... eh... qualcosa di divertente da fare. » — 'Hello. I'd like to find... er... something fun to do.'
« Bene, mi chiamo Livia. Ho undici anni, e andrò a scuola a settembre. Non sembra molto vecchio... anche è uno studente? » — 'Well, my name's Livia. I'm eleven, and I'm going to school in September. You don't look very old... are you a student, too?'
« Bene, mi chiamo Livia. Ho undici anni, e andrò a scuola a settembre. Non sembra molto vecchio... anche è uno studente? » — 'Well, my name's Livia. I'm eleven, and I'm going to school in September. You don't look very old... are you a student, too?'
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Window Shopping
Date. July, 2025 Tag. @Livia Machavariani
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
Growing up in Rome, Gabriele always dreaded the summer months. Being back in the place of his birth for the summer only made him realize just how much he hated it. That's when all the tourists swarmed the place, pick-pocketers were making their rounds around every attraction worth seeing, and most importantly: it was too fucking hot outside. Someone with Gabis fair skin never got used to it. After spending a whole, uninterrupted year in Scotland, it felt even worse than he remembered. Like his heat tolerance for Italian summers had disappeared since the last time they visited.
It was definitely too hot to be standing outside under the afternoon sun, shopping with his family. The main event was actually a ballet performance at the theatre. His dad had retired years ago but they were still very much involved with the performance arts. Let's just say they got distracted on the way there. Thanks to his sisters, of fucking course.
Every trip to the city turned into a shopping spree whenever his sisters joined the ranks. Muggle stores and wizarding stores alike. Even in a big city like this with muggles around every corner, there were certain areas for magical people to get away from the busy life of the city. Nothing big compared to Diagon Alley, and definitely not the main shopping streets of the rest of Rome, but with its own little selection of different booths and shops.
He'd been dragged along to various booths to look at stuff he had no interest in whatsoever, yawning and rolling his eyes irritably to get the point across. He hated it here. Gabriele rather be back home locked in in his room, or hanging out with friends. Every now and then, he tossed out an uncalled-for insult just to amuse himself. "Really? That makes you look washed out," and, "When are you going to wear that? Your stuckup ass don't have friends." You know, just annoying enough to get the reaction he was looking for to entertain himself to the best of his abilities.
"Can we just leave already? I'm sweating my ass off here!" Gabi’s complaint dripped with his usual entitled, shitty attitude. They ignored him completely. Rosetta was busy dragging Dad one over to pay for whatever overpriced thing had caught her eye this time. Gabi didn't care to find out; Lingering behind by one of the jewerly stores that they'd already raided of the most valuable items, he waited until they were finished.
Whenever Gabi glanced up, he caught the eye of the shop owner—an older man with a wrinkly face twisted into a permanent grimace. Or at least, it became a grimace the second the rest of Gabi’s family had abandoned him. The boy was hit with the most suspicious look he'd ever received before. As if Gabi would have to steal shit from him. Gabi scoffed to himself, glaring at the back of the shop owners neck as he turned away to attend a paying customer. He fucking wished his shit was worth stealing! Fucking bald headed cunt.
Gabriele was imagining all the possible ways to get payback when someone spoke to him in Italian. Not unusual, since they were in Italy, but he caught the hint of an accent immediately. Probably a tourist, he thought with an eyeroll and turned to glance at the girl. Up at the girl. He leaned back to get a proper view. She looked to be around his age, but based on height alone, you could have thought she was several years his senior. There was also something looming about her presence that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It didn’t intimidate him, obviously. But the air around them seemed to shift the moment she arrived—just slightly heavier, charged, like when a summer storm is about to break. That's interesting.
She told him that she was looking for something fun to do. Well, tell him about it. If he had any better options he wouldn't be standing around here. Still, something about her insisting on speaking Italian amused him. It wasn’t her first language—he could tell right away—but she was good. Good for a tourist, anyway. They could’ve just switched to English; it would’ve been smoother. But since she’d already started in Italian, Gabi decided to humor her and let her practice.
Before he'd had the opportunity to give her an answer- a not very helpful answer, but an answer nonetheless- the girl had already introduced herself. Livia smiled at him, asking if he was a student too. "Già, secondo anno. A Hogwarts." The closest option for Italian kids was to attend Beauxbatons, so it felt important to clarify so she didn't go looking for him. Though... that would have been pretty funny, but only if he could have taken a part of the disappointment.
"Sono Gabriele... O magari sembri solo più vecchia della tua età." He slowly gave her a full once-over, hinting at her height that had surpassed him already. Then added, just because he felt like a smartass: "You know, you could have just spoken English from the start." Who knew, maybe she still wanted to continue in Italian.
"Già, secondo anno. A Hogwarts." -> "Yeah, second year. At Hogwarts.
"Sono Gabriele... O magari sembri solo più vecchia della tua età." -> "I'm Gabriele... Or maybe you just look old for your age."
| Sta: 7 | Eva: 7 | Str: 5 Wis: 5 | Arc: 10 | Acc: 7 |
Window Shopping
date: early july 2025
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
With a clear, watchful gaze, Livia maintained eye contact with the boy, who quickly revealed he would be going into his second year at Hogwarts. This revelation ensured she continued to listen to the boy with more than a surface-level politeness; his Italian held hardly any trace of an accent, so even as Gabriele introduced himself, Livia was wanting to puzzle out what, exactly, had caused him to attend Hogwarts rather than a mainland European school. She herself would likely have gone to Durmstrang if her mother had anything to do with it; she hadn't known it was possible to simply pick and choose where to go, unless there was something else to it.
His next words, still in Italian, confused her. She did her best to refrain from showing it; often, the worst thing was to appear unknowing or lost. As such, she simply nodded agreeably. Old for her age? She had heard that before, mostly due to her height and general lack of effervescence, but hardly ever from someone so near her own age. She pretended to browse the shopkeeper's goods, although continued glances and the angle of her face in Gabriele's direction would hint at the fact that her interest did remain on him.
Her fingers paused on a beaded bracelet, the movement of her hand halting abruptly when Gabriele spoke, this time in English, a language she had not intended to utilise with the locals here in Rome. Livia's expression remained inscrutable, but her sudden stillness would reflect that she was now keenly paying attention to his words. The thrum of her heartbeat quickened as her visual focus slowly slid back towards Gabriele to join the focus of her ears.
That she apparently sounded notably English from the negligible Italian she had uttered was a gut-wrenching inaccuracy that had her recalculating, already wondering how to fix the problems. This was something she had not fathomed; more often than not, the previous problem with her Italian had been that she tended to speak it like she spoke Russian—too familiar, with a particular emphasis on Rs and the occasional hint of a zh sound slipping in where a soft G should have been. She had seemingly solved one problem only to cause another; such a divulgence made her have to refrain from wrinkling her nose.
Livia did, then, maintain her deadpan expression, although her gaze had hardened. She glanced back to the bracelet before sighing and moving away from it and closer to Gabriele. 'It's hardly worth the price,' she said in English, the gentle rasp of her voice warm and low, unlikely to be heard by other passersby, only meant for Gabriele or perhaps the shopkeeper should they draw nearer. 'Shoddy craftsmanship.'
Now, through lazily opened eyes, her gaze travelled to observe Gabriele properly once again. Something about his attitude and demeanour suggested a certain degree of class, or at least money, which meant he was perfectly acceptable to continue associating with. However... she hadn't forgotten how he had appeared when she had approached him—annoyed, perhaps even itching for a height. That duality had been interesting, and it remained something she wanted to see more of. Nonetheless, the comment about English still required addressing.
Her lips curved up in a precise imitation of a wry, close-lipped smile. 'Certainly. But what's the fun in that?' With that, she continued to step away from the jewellery shop's counter, but remained with her gaze on Gabriele. 'I hear English all the time. Something different was begging for the limelight.' She folded her hands in front of her and angled her chin towards the shop's exit. 'We can, of course, keep conversing in English if you would like. O italiano, se preferisci.'1 She refrained from also suggesting Russian or Georgian, although the playful, self-serving words remained on the tip of her tongue. 'However, I'd like to get out of here. I'm assuming you know your way around better than I do—have you got any ideas of something interesting to do?'
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
With a clear, watchful gaze, Livia maintained eye contact with the boy, who quickly revealed he would be going into his second year at Hogwarts. This revelation ensured she continued to listen to the boy with more than a surface-level politeness; his Italian held hardly any trace of an accent, so even as Gabriele introduced himself, Livia was wanting to puzzle out what, exactly, had caused him to attend Hogwarts rather than a mainland European school. She herself would likely have gone to Durmstrang if her mother had anything to do with it; she hadn't known it was possible to simply pick and choose where to go, unless there was something else to it.
His next words, still in Italian, confused her. She did her best to refrain from showing it; often, the worst thing was to appear unknowing or lost. As such, she simply nodded agreeably. Old for her age? She had heard that before, mostly due to her height and general lack of effervescence, but hardly ever from someone so near her own age. She pretended to browse the shopkeeper's goods, although continued glances and the angle of her face in Gabriele's direction would hint at the fact that her interest did remain on him.
Her fingers paused on a beaded bracelet, the movement of her hand halting abruptly when Gabriele spoke, this time in English, a language she had not intended to utilise with the locals here in Rome. Livia's expression remained inscrutable, but her sudden stillness would reflect that she was now keenly paying attention to his words. The thrum of her heartbeat quickened as her visual focus slowly slid back towards Gabriele to join the focus of her ears.
That she apparently sounded notably English from the negligible Italian she had uttered was a gut-wrenching inaccuracy that had her recalculating, already wondering how to fix the problems. This was something she had not fathomed; more often than not, the previous problem with her Italian had been that she tended to speak it like she spoke Russian—too familiar, with a particular emphasis on Rs and the occasional hint of a zh sound slipping in where a soft G should have been. She had seemingly solved one problem only to cause another; such a divulgence made her have to refrain from wrinkling her nose.
Livia did, then, maintain her deadpan expression, although her gaze had hardened. She glanced back to the bracelet before sighing and moving away from it and closer to Gabriele. 'It's hardly worth the price,' she said in English, the gentle rasp of her voice warm and low, unlikely to be heard by other passersby, only meant for Gabriele or perhaps the shopkeeper should they draw nearer. 'Shoddy craftsmanship.'
Now, through lazily opened eyes, her gaze travelled to observe Gabriele properly once again. Something about his attitude and demeanour suggested a certain degree of class, or at least money, which meant he was perfectly acceptable to continue associating with. However... she hadn't forgotten how he had appeared when she had approached him—annoyed, perhaps even itching for a height. That duality had been interesting, and it remained something she wanted to see more of. Nonetheless, the comment about English still required addressing.
Her lips curved up in a precise imitation of a wry, close-lipped smile. 'Certainly. But what's the fun in that?' With that, she continued to step away from the jewellery shop's counter, but remained with her gaze on Gabriele. 'I hear English all the time. Something different was begging for the limelight.' She folded her hands in front of her and angled her chin towards the shop's exit. 'We can, of course, keep conversing in English if you would like. O italiano, se preferisci.'1 She refrained from also suggesting Russian or Georgian, although the playful, self-serving words remained on the tip of her tongue. 'However, I'd like to get out of here. I'm assuming you know your way around better than I do—have you got any ideas of something interesting to do?'
@gabriele ricci-armani
1. 'Or Italian, if you would prefer it.'
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Window Shopping
Date. July, 2025 | Dialogue. #1E361C | Tag. @Livia Machavariani
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
Gabriele noted her critique towards the shoddy craftsmanship in amusement. He hadn’t expected a girl like her—polished, untouchable, the kind that invited a look but not a touch—to speak so openly. Nevertheless, he appreciated people who didn’t need to sugarcoat shit. Especially at the expense of someone else. It helped that she was attractive, even if she sounded a bit pretentious to him. This girl had a refined look that - as well as the use of words like 'shoddy' when she could have just said 'this craftsmanship is fucking trash' - made him think that she was the daughter of someone of somewhat mild importance… in another country.
Probably no one he would care to know, personally. Gabriele never gave a shit about noble families; he would still have entertained the conversation if her parents were janitors, just because she was pretty, and had a bit of an attitude. That could turn out to be fun.
“Say it louder and he might actually hear you,” he mumbled, glancing back at the shopkeeper with a grin, to see if he had heard it too. Difficult to say since he’d been glaring daggers at him for a while already before she arrived, but he certainly hoped the more enraged expression was due to a pair of kids insulting his wares. And they were absolutely right to; this shit was trash.
Her english was pretty much as good as her Italian. Perhaps neither was her first language. Then again, english wasn’t Gabriele’s first language, either. He could pretty much effortlessly converse, at least the words that mattered(swear words and insults), but his accent was undeniably prominent. Not the worst in his family and the majority of Italians in general fucking sucked, but it gave away his heritage immediately. There was no way in hell he could hide it even if he tried.
When he'd pointed out the language, he didn't do so because he really had a preference for what language they spoke. Italian would be the most natural to him, of course. He’d just been trying to act smart - in other words, annoying - by saying he noticed she was not from here. Though around this area, if you aimed for privacy, English might be the better choice.
“Non mi importa davvero. Ma possiamo parlare in italiano. Non mi dà fastidio il tuo accento,” he said, smirking with a hint of tease. It was actually pretty hot, whatever it was. Russian, maybe? Intruige prompted him to inquire further, "Ma tu di dove sei, comunque?"
Normally, he doubted anything Gabriele thought was interesting would please someone who fit the stereotype of an Edwardian, proper lady. It wasn’t Gabriele’s interest that brought the Ricci-Armani family to downtown Rome this evening, however. “How am I supposed to know what you find interesting?” he wondered incredulously, still in Italian. Trying to come up with something worth suggesting, his gaze drifted to his family, wrapping up their shopping. The show would start in an hour or so. No rush for them, with their own private balcony with a clear view of the stage, but his parents didn't like to be late.
It couldn’t get more classy than ballet. Even if someone like him thought sitting on a chair for three hours, staring at people jumping around on a stage to classical music, was boring as fuck, this girl might actually enjoy it. If not the performance itself, the image it portrayed. He had sisters; he knew all about the stupid importance of aesthetics.
“Well, we could run away and go for a homeless sightseeing…” His humor might be dark at times, but he wasn’t actually serious. “Or I could sneak you in as my posh, snobby…” He trailed off; his gaze traveled up her long body again, like he was gawking up at the Eifel tower, reminding him of just how much taller she was than him. “…ridiculously tall girlfriend to watch Giselle with my family. Or cousin, but I have a lot of those already. You’d look the part. The choice is yours. Just don’t be boring.”
"Non mi importa davvero. Ma possiamo parlare in italiano. Non mi dà fastidio il tuo accento." » "I don't really care. But we can speak Italian. I don't mind your accent."
"Ma tu di dove sei, comunque?" » "Where are you from, anyway?"
| Sta: 7 | Eva: 7 | Str: 5 Wis: 5 | Arc: 10 | Acc: 7 |
Window Shopping
date: early july 2025
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
Gabriele's attention towards proper enunciation of insults made Livia bite back a snicker, although she was unable to hide the smile that also slid onto her face as a result. Whether the shopkeeper had heard her comment or not remained of little concern to the girl, who offered a small, almost playful, shrug to her companion. It was well-known that people heard what they wanted to hear and tended to forget what they didn't.
Livia nodded slowly in response to Gabriele's next Italian words. 'Bene—penso che dipenda da cosa parliamo. Quante persone qui parlano inglese1?' After her perhaps belated discernment of his next words, though, a few responses ran through the girl's mind. Instead of simply saying, Sono ingelese2, though, Livia pursed her lips and gave a small hum of thought. 'Sono di Inghilterra. Però la mia famiglia è di Georgia3.' Having recognised his usage of tu4, she continued with the informal register. 'Sei italiano, vero5?' Given his accent and obvious fluency with the language, it would be far more surprising for him to not be Italian. But... 'Perché Hogwarts6?' As far as Livia was aware, Beauxbâtons or Durmstrang would be more appropriate for someone living in Italy. At any rate, such a school would be a bit closer, geographically.
A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she was accosted by his incredulity. However, she remained quiet, simply keen to observe whatever response the Italian-seeming boy might devise. Surely someone with the propensity for witty comments could easily discern what a peer might enjoy, she mused. She pulled her shoulders back just barely, allowing herself a small stretch as Gabriele thought about a proposition.
When his first suggestion included the words homeless and sightseeing in the same sentence, Livia blinked, surprised, and slowly turned to stare at him as she attempted to puzzle out whether there was an underlying meaning in the phrase. It took a rather embarrassing amount of time for her to ascertain that he had merely been joking; a bit belated, she let out a quiet huff of laughter.
It was only after that mishap that she was acutely aware of his gaze on her. People often looked at her—rather watched, observed, oversaw. However, it was rare that such observation was not detached in nature, as if that of an examiner marking results on a test. This was not the same sort of visual targeting, and Livia quickly averted her gaze from Gabriele's, largely uncertain of how to respond. She was glad that his words registered with her more quickly, explaining the purpose of the once-over, and she tilted her head, taking his idea into consideration. Finally, she nodded. 'Giselle? Sounds like a dream.'
A small but obnoxiously vocal part of her mind suggested she wait, that she ensure she would not be intruding upon a familial occasion. However, Gabriele had told her not to be boring, and as she was desperately wanting human interaction... making certain of such a fact would likely count as inducing boredom. Thus, instead of allowing such a horrendous promulgation, Livia nodded again, this time a quick, decisive motion. 'Yes, that sounds fine, but I do assume my relative lack of prowess with Italian would minimise any masquerading I might do as a cousin. Or your family might very well know who is, and is not, a member of the family.' Her family, at least, would. Such lessons were important—recognising the Georgian and Russian branches of the family, of course, and knowing who was in them, although basic knowledge of less-important cadet branches was still expected.
She began to turn away in hopes of leading Gabriele away from the jewellery counter. 'I'll certainly try to be as entertaining as possible. It would be a shame to disappoint.' She would pause before taking any further steps. 'Alas, my assumption is that you know your way around the city far better than I do. Would you mind leading the way?'
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
Gabriele's attention towards proper enunciation of insults made Livia bite back a snicker, although she was unable to hide the smile that also slid onto her face as a result. Whether the shopkeeper had heard her comment or not remained of little concern to the girl, who offered a small, almost playful, shrug to her companion. It was well-known that people heard what they wanted to hear and tended to forget what they didn't.
Livia nodded slowly in response to Gabriele's next Italian words. 'Bene—penso che dipenda da cosa parliamo. Quante persone qui parlano inglese1?' After her perhaps belated discernment of his next words, though, a few responses ran through the girl's mind. Instead of simply saying, Sono ingelese2, though, Livia pursed her lips and gave a small hum of thought. 'Sono di Inghilterra. Però la mia famiglia è di Georgia3.' Having recognised his usage of tu4, she continued with the informal register. 'Sei italiano, vero5?' Given his accent and obvious fluency with the language, it would be far more surprising for him to not be Italian. But... 'Perché Hogwarts6?' As far as Livia was aware, Beauxbâtons or Durmstrang would be more appropriate for someone living in Italy. At any rate, such a school would be a bit closer, geographically.
A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she was accosted by his incredulity. However, she remained quiet, simply keen to observe whatever response the Italian-seeming boy might devise. Surely someone with the propensity for witty comments could easily discern what a peer might enjoy, she mused. She pulled her shoulders back just barely, allowing herself a small stretch as Gabriele thought about a proposition.
When his first suggestion included the words homeless and sightseeing in the same sentence, Livia blinked, surprised, and slowly turned to stare at him as she attempted to puzzle out whether there was an underlying meaning in the phrase. It took a rather embarrassing amount of time for her to ascertain that he had merely been joking; a bit belated, she let out a quiet huff of laughter.
It was only after that mishap that she was acutely aware of his gaze on her. People often looked at her—rather watched, observed, oversaw. However, it was rare that such observation was not detached in nature, as if that of an examiner marking results on a test. This was not the same sort of visual targeting, and Livia quickly averted her gaze from Gabriele's, largely uncertain of how to respond. She was glad that his words registered with her more quickly, explaining the purpose of the once-over, and she tilted her head, taking his idea into consideration. Finally, she nodded. 'Giselle? Sounds like a dream.'
A small but obnoxiously vocal part of her mind suggested she wait, that she ensure she would not be intruding upon a familial occasion. However, Gabriele had told her not to be boring, and as she was desperately wanting human interaction... making certain of such a fact would likely count as inducing boredom. Thus, instead of allowing such a horrendous promulgation, Livia nodded again, this time a quick, decisive motion. 'Yes, that sounds fine, but I do assume my relative lack of prowess with Italian would minimise any masquerading I might do as a cousin. Or your family might very well know who is, and is not, a member of the family.' Her family, at least, would. Such lessons were important—recognising the Georgian and Russian branches of the family, of course, and knowing who was in them, although basic knowledge of less-important cadet branches was still expected.
She began to turn away in hopes of leading Gabriele away from the jewellery counter. 'I'll certainly try to be as entertaining as possible. It would be a shame to disappoint.' She would pause before taking any further steps. 'Alas, my assumption is that you know your way around the city far better than I do. Would you mind leading the way?'
@gabriele ricci-armani
1. 'Well—I think it depends on what we're discussing. How many people here speak English?'
2. 'I'm English.'
3. 'I'm from England. But my family, they're from Georgia.'
4. 'You're Italian, right?'
5. 'Why Hogwarts?'
2. 'I'm English.'
3. 'I'm from England. But my family, they're from Georgia.'
4. 'You're Italian, right?'
5. 'Why Hogwarts?'
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Window Shopping
Date. July, 2025 | Dialogue. #1E361C | Tag. @Livia Machavariani
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
The girl was English with Georgian roots, not Russian as he’d guessed. Close enough. Gabriele didn’t know much about either country to make a statement. He could at least inform her that he was Italian, with his usual irony and sarcasm tainting every word. “Sì, non si vede dal mio colorito profondamente oliva?” While olive undertone might be technically true, the punchline was that Gabriele was pale as fuck, making him the only child in his family that could have passed for a basement dweller in every family photo. If anyone guessed his heritage right, it was due to accent only. And yet, somehow, he didn’t mind. Having to live with it, you were eventually forced to just accept it as a fact. After twelve years, the closest thing to tan he’d ever gotten was that one time he got fried to a lobster crisp on a cruise.
As for the choice of school, which was not his decision at the end of the day, he pouted his lips in a grimace, lifting his arms, hands fanning out in the air in a – what he called it – fuck-if-I-knew gesture. Hogwarts wasn’t even that bad. Sure, the dungeons stank, not to mention that the potions professor might not have laughed a day in his life. That aside, it probably had a lot of perks compared to Beauxbatons. French people, for example. “Hai mai conosciuto dei francesi? Fanno cagare.” The question didn’t require an answer, it simply spoke for itself.
As he’d expected– by just looking at the way she carried herself– Livia thought watching a few hours of ballet was a dream, instead of the restless nightmare Gabriele considered himself subjected to. With her as company however, the Italian was confident that the whole ordeal would turn out to be less insufferable than usual. Only being able to see his parents' reaction was a sight worth it in itself.
“Girlfriend it is then,” he concluded with a shrug, eyes sliding over Livia one more time, with his signature cheeky smiles in firm place. The first time he did that, the girl had glanced away and refused to meet his eyes. Gabriele had decided to interpret it as flustered, even if it was just to flatter himself – better than disgusted, anyway.
Secretly, Gabriele was excited to call someone his girlfriend for the first time, whether a lie or not. Perhaps not so secretly then, when he one second later added, “I’m not complaining.” On first glance, she looked serious and rigid, but since she’d entertained Gabriele’s antics this far, it was clear that she had some humor to offer. In her own, dry, judgemental way.
Most of his so-called flirting was just joking anyway, even if he was, at some point in his life, hoping to find himself a smoking hot girlfriend. If you asked anyone in his family, they suspected that the time when Gabriele stopped being a little bitch and scared all the eligible girls away would never come. Not with a great deal of inner work. That was basically doomed from the start; if there was one thing Gabi refused to do, no matter how desperate he’d get, it was read those books about stupid self-help shit.
At her next question, he scoffed lightly. “Of course I know the way, let’s go,” Gabriele reached for her hand, taking the softer, but not that much smaller hand purposefully in his, to lead him in the direction of his family wrapping up their shopping. She could have easily pulled out of his grip if she wanted to, but that would kind of ruin the whole point. Granted, the possibility that his parents would actually buy his story was slim to begin with. Still, he tugged her along, weaving through the crowd with a determined swagger that didn’t quite hide his anticipation.
The moment they closed the distance, his parents – and all four of his siblings – looked up in unison, eyes narrowed in silent questions as their eyes flicked from their son to the girl at his side. Five pairs of eyes boring into him like a tribunal. The kind of look that said explain yourself, right now. Gabriele only rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on Livia’s hand before anyone could get a word in.
“This is Livia,” he announced, his tone dripping with exaggerated nonchalance. “She’s my girlfriend from Hogwarts and will see the ballet, or whatever. Deal with it.”
Sì, non si vede dal mio colorito profondamente oliva? >> Yes, can't you tell by my deep, olive complexion?
Hai mai conosciuto dei francesi? Fanno cagare. >> Have you ever met french people? They suck.
| Sta: 7 | Eva: 7 | Str: 5 Wis: 5 | Arc: 10 | Acc: 7 |
Window Shopping
date: early july 2025
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
A small smirk presented itself upon Livia's lips at Gabriele's mention of olive skin. The boy very much appeared as if he would turn raspberry-red if left outside for even fifteen minutes of direct sunlight. She bit back a snort, but the further turning up of the edges of her eyes and the sound of a quick, staccato exhale would ensure Gabriele was aware she had gotten the joke.
Gabriele's statement about French people did coax a laugh out of the English girl. She had never met a French person, at least not that she was aware of, but being British, she knew the stereotypes. It somewhat pleased her to know there was a similar association with Frenchness in Italy. She herself appreciated their luxury fashion, having a certain admiration for what she had seen from the Muggle brand Dior.
His gaze only continued to unnerve her. Livia doubted she would truly understand exactly what the intensity of Gabriele's gaze was meant to convey; all she knew was that it was strange and not something she had experienced around anyone else. She once again averted her gaze so that she could school her expression into submission, but the slight tint of dusty pink on her cheeks would remain as an outward indicator of her nonplussed state. She would have to catalogue what this meant later.
Livia was unable to stop her eyes from widening when Gabriele said, 'I'm not complaining'. It took her longer than she would have liked to process the statement. She laughed—actually laughed—and then stopped abruptly when she realised. 'Oh, er. Me neither.'
She would have to avoid overthinking it. This was just something fun, a bit of a ploy that, for her, was under the guise of obtaining a proper acquaintance. She had never really thought about what it would mean to have a boyfriend, and for that reason, she was glad that this was just a terminological inexactitude. Although she would not admit it to Gabriele, and she would do her utmost to avoid letting it come to light, she truly had no idea how to act in this situation. The mendacity of it all meant she could just enjoy herself and not take it too seriously.
Unsurprised by Gabriele's knowing the way, but minutely intrigued by his almost haughtiness regarding his knowledge, Livia followed. She was not used to physical touch from anyone but her brother and occasionally her father, but if this was what acquaintanceship or friendship, or simply not getting lost in a large city, required, then she found she was fine with it. She did hope her hands were not too damp from the humid, hot air. As the two of them weaved through the crowd, Livia's movements momentarily lost their rigidity as she focused less on moving and more on observation. This situation was perhaps the most absurd she had caught herself in yet, but the thrill of the lie, the fun of meandering through wild crowds of people, brought a small smile to her face. Yes, she could get used to having fun like this, a sentiment she found bolstered by being, for a moment, one with the crowd.
She came to a halt almost immediately, returning to herself upon seeing Gabriele's family. Such a vision was a staunch reminder of how new everything was, but Livia stood taller and attempted to mirror Gabriele's nonchalance. She cast a cool glance at him and then back at his parents, and then she offered them a small simper. 'It's a pleasure. You've no idea how delighted I was to encounter Gabi here in Rome.'
The shortening of his name was not something she had premeditated, but after it came out, there was no taking it back. She hoped it would add more to the illusion. 'I do look forward to enjoying the ballet,' she said after a pause, leaving it up to interpretation whether she meant she would enjoy the ballet (she would, of course) or whatever antics Gabriele had in mind (those, too, would certainly be amusing).
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
A small smirk presented itself upon Livia's lips at Gabriele's mention of olive skin. The boy very much appeared as if he would turn raspberry-red if left outside for even fifteen minutes of direct sunlight. She bit back a snort, but the further turning up of the edges of her eyes and the sound of a quick, staccato exhale would ensure Gabriele was aware she had gotten the joke.
Gabriele's statement about French people did coax a laugh out of the English girl. She had never met a French person, at least not that she was aware of, but being British, she knew the stereotypes. It somewhat pleased her to know there was a similar association with Frenchness in Italy. She herself appreciated their luxury fashion, having a certain admiration for what she had seen from the Muggle brand Dior.
His gaze only continued to unnerve her. Livia doubted she would truly understand exactly what the intensity of Gabriele's gaze was meant to convey; all she knew was that it was strange and not something she had experienced around anyone else. She once again averted her gaze so that she could school her expression into submission, but the slight tint of dusty pink on her cheeks would remain as an outward indicator of her nonplussed state. She would have to catalogue what this meant later.
Livia was unable to stop her eyes from widening when Gabriele said, 'I'm not complaining'. It took her longer than she would have liked to process the statement. She laughed—actually laughed—and then stopped abruptly when she realised. 'Oh, er. Me neither.'
She would have to avoid overthinking it. This was just something fun, a bit of a ploy that, for her, was under the guise of obtaining a proper acquaintance. She had never really thought about what it would mean to have a boyfriend, and for that reason, she was glad that this was just a terminological inexactitude. Although she would not admit it to Gabriele, and she would do her utmost to avoid letting it come to light, she truly had no idea how to act in this situation. The mendacity of it all meant she could just enjoy herself and not take it too seriously.
Unsurprised by Gabriele's knowing the way, but minutely intrigued by his almost haughtiness regarding his knowledge, Livia followed. She was not used to physical touch from anyone but her brother and occasionally her father, but if this was what acquaintanceship or friendship, or simply not getting lost in a large city, required, then she found she was fine with it. She did hope her hands were not too damp from the humid, hot air. As the two of them weaved through the crowd, Livia's movements momentarily lost their rigidity as she focused less on moving and more on observation. This situation was perhaps the most absurd she had caught herself in yet, but the thrill of the lie, the fun of meandering through wild crowds of people, brought a small smile to her face. Yes, she could get used to having fun like this, a sentiment she found bolstered by being, for a moment, one with the crowd.
She came to a halt almost immediately, returning to herself upon seeing Gabriele's family. Such a vision was a staunch reminder of how new everything was, but Livia stood taller and attempted to mirror Gabriele's nonchalance. She cast a cool glance at him and then back at his parents, and then she offered them a small simper. 'It's a pleasure. You've no idea how delighted I was to encounter Gabi here in Rome.'
The shortening of his name was not something she had premeditated, but after it came out, there was no taking it back. She hoped it would add more to the illusion. 'I do look forward to enjoying the ballet,' she said after a pause, leaving it up to interpretation whether she meant she would enjoy the ballet (she would, of course) or whatever antics Gabriele had in mind (those, too, would certainly be amusing).
@gabriele ricci-armani
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Window Shopping
Date. July, 2025 | Dialogue. #1E361C | Tag. @Livia Machavariani
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
To no ones surprise, his parents looked deeply skeptical, glancing between him and his surprise girlfriend. Considering Livia addressed them with nothing but classy politeness, there was nothing they could hate about her even if they wanted to, giving them no reason to tell her off either. They would never. They were more skeptical that he had a girlfriend all of a sudden. Like he was struggling!
His dads had said nothing, they didn’t have to for him to know what was going through their minds. It was actually Antonio, looking too damn smug for his own good, who chipped up: “No one saw that one coming.” Meanwhile his little sister Belladonna, clueless as fucking ever, exclaimed “You have a girlfriend now?!” Mistakes had been clearly been made. Well... no. But he was not going to come clean now. "So what?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that so hard to believe?" Gabriele’s whole face scrunched into a scowl, feeling annoyed and offended to have his game questioned. They were right, in this case, but where was the proof!
To embarrass him further, and perhaps to test how far Livia’s lies went to save himself the humiliation, one of his dads turned to his fake date with an expectant look. “You’re so welcome to join us, of course. It’s always exciting to meet friends of our children… Though we’re all so curious. What exactly do you like about Gabi?” It sounded like a polite question but was, in all actuality, a backhanded jab at himself. Jesus fucking Christ. He slapped a palm over his face, groaning loudly. His face heated up and Gabriele wanted to sink through the cobblestone road, just to not have to stand here and listen to his public humiliation.
Undeniably curious, even if he knew that whatever she came up with was most likely a lie and not her real feelings (obviously), he glanced at her sideways with eyes wide as saucers to gauge her reaction. To be fair, when he said he wasn't complaining about calling her his girlfriend, she'd claimed that neither did she. He had taken it with a pinch of salt and a laugh, since the whole thing had been a ploy to sneak her into the theatre. Gabriele didn’t even want to know what Livia would say, if anything.
She was given a few seconds to respond before he took matters into his own hands. “That’s enough, can we leave already?” He demanded when he’d collected himself, though his face was still tinted pink. Leaning towards Livia, he whispered apologetically, "I'm sorry, they suck." He actually loved his family, though he sometimes acted like he didn't. They were just... really good at humbling him.
| Sta: 7 | Eva: 7 | Str: 5 Wis: 5 | Arc: 10 | Acc: 7 |
Window Shopping
date: early july 2025
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
Gabriele's family did not disappoint. His siblings amused Livia, although she would do her best not to let such entertainment be reflected upon her features, and she instead maintained her small, close-lipped smile. Nonchalant, she reminded herself, once again trying to make sure she didn't appear as if she were trying too hard. It was a fine line to walk, indeed.
One of his fathers, however, seemed apt to assess Livia's aptitude for fabrication. Livia glanced sideways at Gabriele, who did not seem to be taking the question well, what with the tomato-like redness of his face and the disgruntled groan that had emanated from him. Determined to save the situation, Livia let out a light, feathery laugh; a result of nerves, it did not sound all that fake. 'Thank you,' she said to his allowance of her on their trip. Then, she began to answer his other, perhaps a bit rude, question: 'Well, I must admit, he's got rather impressive taste in fashion and baubles – it's rare a girl meets someone who can identify fine craftsmanship, truly. And he's made me laugh more than a few times. Really, when you've got that, what's not to like?'
Although the words slipped easily off of her silver tongue, they were not entirely fake; she had drawn on reality and simply provided embellishment. However, she stopped speaking, smiling once again when Gabriele demanded to leave. She stifled the urge to elbow him and poke fun at him – should the urge remain, she could do that when his family were not watching, potentially with more pointed comments aimed at him. She did snicker when he said, 'they suck'. 'They're certainly interesting,' she mused. 'A bit humorous. I can see where you get it from.'
Should such a similar thing occurred with her own family, Livia doubted they would have been as lighthearted. Something about the way they interacted lowered her guard momentarily, and she found her curiosity and small smiles coming more easily. Perhaps laughter really was the medicine of all medicines. She would slow the pace of her walk to drift a bit behind Gabriele, and with a low voice, would whisper, 'Your brother...certainly an interesting figure. He's... older than you? Must be odd.' She shrugged. 'I'm the oldest – I have a little brother. He's not so annoying but can be rather brainless at times. Your brother has at least got a sense of humour.'
Although she was, quite truthfully, third-wheeling with Gabriele's family, she hardly minded it. They were refreshing – not too unlike Gabriele himself to be surprising, but not without qualities that intrigued her. As they made their way inside the theatre, she kept her gaze mostly on Gabriele's family, waiting for something that would stand out to her that she might comment on. She did turn to Gabriele again, though, raising a point of inquiry: 'Do you think they'll manage anything unique with the costuming? Anything exciting?'
time: afternoon/evening
location: rome, italy
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
Gabriele's family did not disappoint. His siblings amused Livia, although she would do her best not to let such entertainment be reflected upon her features, and she instead maintained her small, close-lipped smile. Nonchalant, she reminded herself, once again trying to make sure she didn't appear as if she were trying too hard. It was a fine line to walk, indeed.
One of his fathers, however, seemed apt to assess Livia's aptitude for fabrication. Livia glanced sideways at Gabriele, who did not seem to be taking the question well, what with the tomato-like redness of his face and the disgruntled groan that had emanated from him. Determined to save the situation, Livia let out a light, feathery laugh; a result of nerves, it did not sound all that fake. 'Thank you,' she said to his allowance of her on their trip. Then, she began to answer his other, perhaps a bit rude, question: 'Well, I must admit, he's got rather impressive taste in fashion and baubles – it's rare a girl meets someone who can identify fine craftsmanship, truly. And he's made me laugh more than a few times. Really, when you've got that, what's not to like?'
Although the words slipped easily off of her silver tongue, they were not entirely fake; she had drawn on reality and simply provided embellishment. However, she stopped speaking, smiling once again when Gabriele demanded to leave. She stifled the urge to elbow him and poke fun at him – should the urge remain, she could do that when his family were not watching, potentially with more pointed comments aimed at him. She did snicker when he said, 'they suck'. 'They're certainly interesting,' she mused. 'A bit humorous. I can see where you get it from.'
Should such a similar thing occurred with her own family, Livia doubted they would have been as lighthearted. Something about the way they interacted lowered her guard momentarily, and she found her curiosity and small smiles coming more easily. Perhaps laughter really was the medicine of all medicines. She would slow the pace of her walk to drift a bit behind Gabriele, and with a low voice, would whisper, 'Your brother...certainly an interesting figure. He's... older than you? Must be odd.' She shrugged. 'I'm the oldest – I have a little brother. He's not so annoying but can be rather brainless at times. Your brother has at least got a sense of humour.'
Although she was, quite truthfully, third-wheeling with Gabriele's family, she hardly minded it. They were refreshing – not too unlike Gabriele himself to be surprising, but not without qualities that intrigued her. As they made their way inside the theatre, she kept her gaze mostly on Gabriele's family, waiting for something that would stand out to her that she might comment on. She did turn to Gabriele again, though, raising a point of inquiry: 'Do you think they'll manage anything unique with the costuming? Anything exciting?'
@gabriele ricci-armani
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |