The Sea-Goat & the Ram | [Solo] - Elsewhere…

28 Apr 2026, 04:34

23 July, 2025
Chiadovini Demesne, Venice Italy

Terrible Presence in Effect
| Aura of Unease Present |
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There is something that is just... not right about him. A chill in the air, a sense felt deep in the bones. The shadows might seem more lively, the night might play more tricks on his opponents' eyes. Yet there is one, undeniable truth -- the source is him.

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In line with what seemed to be the typical hospitable nature of the youngest son of Marius Vero, Noé had invited Leonardo to his household in celebration of their recently forged mutual partnership. Notably, Noé had ensured that it had coincided with the largest wine festival in Sicily. While this was likely a continued indication of his good faith, Leonardo had very little intention of actually participating in that celebration or its concurrent activities. Regardless, he had accepted the invitation with similarly good faith, and in accordance with the wishes of his mother's and Eviana's requests, he had additionally made the arrangements necessary to arrive to the Chiadovini demesne early and a few days prior to his travel to Sicily. It seemed that the intent they had in mind was to raise his boy in the same house as his forefathers, as was the tradition of the family.

This intention was one that he viewed with a grim displeasure. One that he had─quite recently, as a matter of fact─exchanged tastefully heated words and letters to both his own mother and to Eviana over. His residence in Scotland, he argued, was a better place to not only raise Dante but to ensure that the shifting schooling standards across the wizarding world would include the child as being eligible for attendance at Hogwarts when he presented his first instance of magic. It was this that he used as his strongest point of argument against their vision; the unspoken risk that the Chiadovini heir to the remaining heir apparent would be forced to attend Beauxbatons─a school that no Chiadovini had attended since the late sixteenth century.

If there was something that Leonardo knew of his family, it was that superstition held a particularly strong sway over their decisions. Superstitions had a tendency to be based upon the dark realities in their history, and while pattern-recognition had always been a staple of the ability of man to swiftly adapt and survive that which may have been the end of lesser creatures it was also the means by which Leonardo intended to place his thumb upon the scale in matters relating to Dante. The negotiations, as far as he was aware, were still ongoing; a significant marker of his small success thus far.

The flames of the lamps in the Chiadovini sitting room that played host to the chimney they utilized for their Floo transportation flickered wildly, gasping for air as they struggled to cling to their wicks as the shadow of the son of Ricardo Benvolio was cast across the floor. The last tongues of green fire licked away from the velvet of his midnight-sky cloak as he brushed withering sparks from his shoulders, bringing himself to his full height with practiced control. The Demense once more.

Guinevere approached him with the soft and signature upturn of her lips in a smile, dressed in one of her favorite dresses. Leonardo remembered that it was a bespoke outfit that Ricardo had had custom-tailored for her; it appeared in many of the moving photos of the three of them (as well as ones featuring only Ricardo and Guinevere), and was often worn for family events. Viridian-green it was, with small river-pearls sprinkled about the collar and tasteful shoulder frills, draping to the floor in layered satin that rippled riverlike emerald and jade in lights and shadows produced by faltering lampglow. Cupping his face in her hands for a moment, she fixed an errant lock of his hair before straightening his collar and encircling him in a momentary embrace that he hesitantly returned with an arm of his own and a small kiss on her cheek before they parted. He noticed that her eyes were slightly glassy─tearful. Despite the years and schisms between himself and this family, he supposed that there was a particular strength in a mother's love for her child.

Eviana lingered near the loveseat, Dante in her arms. The young boy's eyes were wide and seemed to glitter as he beheld the magic that procured his father while his hand was in his mouth and his dark brows raised in that childishly curious fashion accentuated by wildly curly hair that was a bit longer than the last time that Leonardo had seen him. The Udinesi approached with a stride that seemed to slink more than step and a smile that was both purposeful and knowing. She bounced Dante lightly, whose eyes had not left Leonardo's, and spoke with a gentle voice. "E ' tuo padre? Senti, andiamo a salutare tuo padre. Is it your daddy? Look, let's go say hello to your daddy."

She presented Dante to him, and Leonardo gently took him, bouncing him slightly as well and daring to fix a particularly errant curl that was sticking straight up compared to its companions. Eviana took the opportunity to run her fingernails through the hair by Leonardo's temple, exposing the silver that lay hidden beneath, before giving him a peck on the cheek and then laying her head on his shoulder and fussing over Dante as well, gently removing the boy's hand from his mouth. "Siamo lieti che tu sia venuto a trovarci. We're glad that you came to visit."

The presence of her hovering at his side was only rendered permissible by the warmth of Dante at his breast, the intelligence in his boy's eyes that he knew would only continue to increase as time passed and his wisdom grew. "Daddy missed you very much, Dante." It felt very strange to speak of himself in the third person, but it seemed that there was something in his voice that suddenly made the boy's eyes "smile". Despite himself, Leonardo couldn't help but feel himself smiling softly in response, feeling his voice soften as he did so. "Very, very much. And he hopes that he can continue to see you more often."

He's trying very hard to do so. Very, very hard.

"The Master's Bedroom can be made up for you, Leonardo."

Guinevere said this, Leonardo knew, both out of pattern of habit and of the hope that one day his answer would vary from its predecessors. He was well-aware that on every one of his visits the Master's Bedroom would be freshly tidied and meticulously ordered. He was also well-aware of its role in the family's history, and the weight of the memories that lingered there long-after the many family patriarchs' departure from the realm of the living, often in that very same room. It was a room in which the fabric between the realms seemed thin, a nature that was sometimes seen as an appeal to many of his forefathers as it pertained to their powers of divination and aspects of pseudo-mysticism that the Chiadovinis had occasionally dabbled in.

He shook his head without diverting his attention from Dante. "That will not be necessary." The answer that he always gave. "So long as my guest room is still arranged, I shall make do with it."

Eviana's head lifted from his shoulder before she took Dante from him. He could sense, though he did not make out the expression on her face, her disappointment already. Yes... yes he knew the ambitions in that woman. It was not a difficult thing to tell. From the very beginning, he had known her desires. It was indeed a curious and exhilarating little game of cat and mouse that they played regarding the fate of not only his child but the position as spouse to the Chiadovini heir that she desired to hold. His eyes followed her back, and then fixed once more on Dante's eyes─that little boy's gaze that still refused to part unless it was because something interposed itself in his sight. "Allora ci metteremo a nostro agio nella stanza che ho ammirato prima, Signora Chiadovini Then we shall make ourselves comfortable in the room I admired earlier, Madam Chiadovini." She remarked drily.

Only when the last train of the dark indigo dress that the Udinesi wore had trailed around the edge of the door did Leonardo finally let out a deeply vexed exhale, eyes narrow before he focused instead upon his suitcase. "I hope that Macbeth is in good health?" He had sent his beloved familiar ahead of him with the letter of his promise that he would arrive to the Demesne on his way to Sicily, both for communique and for the purpose of avoiding the trouble and stress of taking the creature with him through the Floo system.

"He is doing well. Ines did not take kindly to him, so we have kept him in your room away from the other owls. He is a very energetic one. I wonder if his enthusiasm has succeeded at all in rubbing off on you over the years." Guinevere remarked softly, ringing the servant bell near the corner of the room. Her old eyes shimmered frost-like with ancient mirth. "If one day I might see you content." She clicked her tongue thoughtfully, shaking her head for a moment as if reconsidering the correct word for the context. "No... that I might see you fulfilled."

Despite himself, Leonardo felt himself let out a small huff of a laugh accompanied by a thin smile before the servants arrived to collect his luggage. He shook his head as they exited once more with haste, looking about the smoking room idly with an air of grim nostalgia. The things he remembered in this room─the things he had heard, the scents in the air, the people who had shuffled in and out... "That one day I may indeed find fulfillment." He ran his fingers on the mantelpiece. No dust. The thought, the idea, of such achievement did indeed often cross his mind. "The day upon which I do so, I am sure that I will at last understand the reason for everything that has happened─the things that ensured it would all come to pass." That one day he would understand. That one day the hunger would be satiated. That one day...

He pursed his lips once, nodding to himself before rousing and then kissing Guinevere on the cheek in return. "Until then, I search for 'happiness'." Guinevere held his hand for a moment, until Leonardo's slipped away as his eyes regained their hard sheen─the barrier betwixt the world and his soul was replaced. "With the hope that we all should one day find it."

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Reducio

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Statistics & Abilities

Stamina 7 ⬥ Strength 1 ⬥ Evasion 10 ⬥ Wisdom 15 ⬥ Accuracy 14 ⬥ Arcane Power 18
Seer ⬥ Fearless ⬥ Advanced Casting ⬥ Terrible Presence ⬥ Spell Spread ⬥ Crucio

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Seer

⬥ Uncanny Insight ~ 10% Auto-Dodge & Auto-Hit Rate
⬥ Prophesy ~ Vision Occurrence Chance 1ce/Thread (1/1)
⬥ Indiscriminate Knowledge ~ No Critical Failure Chance & +1 Critical Success Range
⬥ Fatespinning ~ Reroll an Ability Check 3ce/Thread (3/3)

Fearless ~ Immunity to Fear Effects, Spells, and Potions

Advanced Casting ~ +1 Critical Success Range while Casting Spells

Terrible Presence ~ Aura of +1 Critical Failure and 10% Automiss & Damage Reduction

Spell Spread ~ +2 Wisdom DC, +1 Critical Failure Range, -2 Accuracy, +1 Target

Crucio ~ Capability of Casting the Unforgivable Torturing Curse

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⟣𝙱𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚜, / 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜⟢

Leonardo Chiadovini

Oracle Aide, IV

128 518

28 Apr 2026, 04:36

Terrible Presence in Effect
| Aura of Unease Present |
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There is something that is just... not right about him. A chill in the air, a sense felt deep in the bones. The shadows might seem more lively, the night might play more tricks on his opponents' eyes. Yet there is one, undeniable truth -- the source is him.

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All dialogue is in Italian unless stated otherwise.

The eyes of the family portraits were all upon him as he strode through the velvet-burdened corridor between his room and the bifurcated staircase central to the midpoint between the nursery and the family rooms. Some, he noticed, were conspicuously absent from their frames; the very same ones that often frequented the dining room. Some were tittering amongst themselves behind the back of Leonardo, the conversations of which he only caught snippets of in the form of a word or two here and there.

He came to an abrupt stop as the ghost of Vivaldo passed through the wall from the Grand Stairwell, the monotone detailings of his last outfit featuring a striking silvery stain that soaked through most of his left shoulder and seeped across his chest down to his waist. Sprinkled upon his boots were similar phantasmal droplets. The hawkish eyes of his multi-great long-passed uncle pierced through him, expression unbothered and disinterested, before the geist passed through the opposite wall and entered into the family room behind it. The former Inquisitor had always possessed a slightly more than icy shoulder and a vicious streak, both in life and more recently in death. Leonardo often avoided him if it was at all possible.

His arrival had caused a general stir in the demesne. It seemed that as of late such a typically mundane activity in the eyes of most common people oft did when it came to the affairs of the Chiadovinis.

Continuing onwards, Leonardo flattened down the lapel of his outfit and idly fixed a button that was partially slipped from its hole. He was expected to be present for dinner, naturally, not that the event was a particularly attractive means to burn away precious time in his mind. If nothing else, he supposed that the staff would present a far more eccentric array of cuisine than usual─something special for the homecoming of the heir apparent, of course.

The velvet of his cloak whispered as he neared the stairwell, his hand resting upon the banister of the staircase to begin his descent before a flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. He turned suddenly, scanning the hall behind him and the double doors cozied between the stairwell's split that led into the demesne's "attic" space. He could have sworn that he had seen the faintest glint of reflected candlelight on the door in a fashion that indicated that one of those doors had been moved.

Ghosts could not touch the living world, and servants were not permitted on this floor unless it was to clean rooms or on the behest of one of the Chiadovinis. If they were permitted to be there, there would additionally be no reason for any of them to conceal their presences.

The chestnut wand was in his hand, hidden beneath the cloak and obscuring his left arm, as he softly approached the attic. There were a few oddities and old relics in there─dusty portraits, old sculptures cracking and disintegrating from age or too garish to display, artifacts and memorabilia... truth be told, even Leonardo did not know everything that lay hidden in that curious place of antiques and old dust, despite it being one of his favored places to hide away from the rest of the household in his childhood. He did know, however, that the doors opened outwards, and that it could not be locked from the inside, as his fingers wrapped about the rim lock handle and then quickly unlatched the door before pulling it open.

For a moment, he saw light catch off of a pale and reflective surface, and then there was a blur of movement that darted for one side of him. He felt a physical form attempt to knock him off balance, but the thing was temporarily snarled in his cloak for just long enough for the Seer's hand to dart after the shape, snagging the arm that had been caught as it tried to pull away.

There was a high, sharp cry as the thing suddenly pitched about and the Chiadovini spun slightly to follow it, digging in his other foot as he pivoted and tightening his grip as much as he could as a hand tried to prise his hand off of the arm he held. Surprise was quickly replaced with a cold fury as Leonardo bared his teeth slightly. "Quiet!" He snapped. "What do you think you're doing? What business do you think you have in there?"

He took in more features the longer he held the perpetrator, pulling the arm slightly closer to himself and raising his hand slightly─his other hand still held his wand down and away. What he held was the arm of a child, he realized. A young boy whose face was twisted into an expression that nearly matched his own in ferocity and fury. The pale reflection, he saw now, was that of a pale blue eye─eye, for the other was almost rose for its lack of hue. The darkness was the child's hair, almost black were it not for the faintest overtone of mahogany that gave it away as being merely a very dark brown, with a thick shock of white hair at the front of his hairline. He was dressed in a rather elegant attire of violet, silver and black─colors that were often reserved solely for the primary patriarchal lineage of the Chiadovini family, and the motion of a monocle bouncing against the boy's chest glittered with a well-cut pale lilac crystal lens.

The boy bared his teeth in response, almost as if to challenge the much more senior wizard that held him. "Unhand me!" The voice was sharp, cold, yet wavering with a higher pitch of something that threatened fear. Borderline insolent, considering his current circumstance. He tried to wrench his hand away, but Leonardo wrenched back, eliciting another bark of surprise from the child. Those eyes turned hard. "Unhand me. Now."

"I think you not to be in a position of making demands, young man." Leonardo matched the coldness, silvery eyes searching the child for more details. Who was this boy? A son of one of the servants, most likely. The Chiadovinis had several lesser Pureblood families under their services, many of which had chosen to continue offering their labor to the family despite being permitted to depart. This was because many had come to the Chiadovinis for protection, but also because the Chiadovinis had always had purpose for those that came to them without one. "What were you doing in there?" Hard, unwavering.

"That is of no concern to you." The child retorted, and Leonardo watched as the boy's face slowly began to blush. He tried to wrench his arm away again and raised his voice when he found no success. "Unhand me!"

"I shall, once we find your parents." Leonardo stated, before making to drag the child down the steps after him. Unsurprisingly, the boy resisted, digging his heels in. "No! Let me go!"

Petulant brat.

But before he could begin the very hazardous descent with a feisty quarry in tow, the child let out an ear-splitting scream that caused what Leonardo could have sworn to be the very walls to tremble. Ear-splitting was, perhaps, the most exact way to describe it─instinctively he released the child and clapped his hands over his ears as the pitch of it reverberated through his skull. By the time the initial sound had died off and a bright, buzzing ringing began to take its place as the world spun slightly, the boy had already leapt down the stairs and was several flights away.

Velvet snapped through the air as the Seer took flight after the boy, favoring the banister to guide him down as blood pounded in what seemed to be only one of his ears. Portraits watched the debacle, lady's hands fluttering over their mouths and their escorting gentlemen ushering them out of the frame with remarks of distaste as Leonardo passed by and only ceased his chase when he reached the mid-landing of the grand staircase and beheld Guinevere and the child beneath him in the foyer.

He stood there for a moment, one foot having been placed in preparation to descend the rest of the staircase, looking between his mother and the boy that was partially hiding himself behind her. His right ear was ringing, his wand arm was no longer hidden beneath his cloak. After a moment, feeling his breath drawn in composed yet exerted manner, his eyes darkened. en:"What... is the meaning of this." His words slithered through the air.

The boy's eyes seemed to light up with a look of proud defiance, but seemed to have at least enough of a wit to remain silent as Guinevere ushered the child behind him and confronted her son herself. en:"Leonardo, I am sorry─"

"Mother." A stern, if unideal, interruption. He was not interested in the apologies, watching his mother seem momentarily taken aback by that particular title of acknowledgement. He took a single step down before stopping again. His voice lowered into a composed cadence; gently, frighteningly. en:"I should like to know the meaning of this." He winced as he touched a hand to his ear. It came away warm─scarlet faintly smeared his fingertips. His attention returned to the child, to Guinevere. He could not shake a strange idea that began to blossom the longer he looked at that boy─the familiar features that seemed haunting and noble in the same turn.

A look of gentle sadness came into his mother's eyes. en:"I did not want to have to introduce the two of you this way." Leonardo's eyes did not shift or change. Guinevere hesitated, and Leonardo descended another step. The boy's own eyes narrowed in what could have been spite. en:"I knew this would happen."

en:"Mother, whose child is this, that he is protected in this way and permitted to cause mischief by means that would have had me whipped when I was a boy."

The child stepped out of Guinevere's shadow, fixing the dark Seer with similar embers in his eyes. Drawing his shoulders back and raising his chin, he spoke in a manner that was far too confident for his age or situation. en:"I am Vergilius Ricardo Chiadovini-Schiavone; son of Ricardo Benvolio, true heir to the Chiadovini house, and bearer of my fathers' gifts of foresight." His English was heavily accented, informally trained or perhaps early in his studies, but clear and cold. Titles. Titles that Leonardo was once instructed to speak, that were ingrained into his very sense of self.

But it was the child's name that chilled his blood.

Schiavone.

Leonardo's gaze flicked to Guinevere once more, his voice no louder than a low whisper that carried itself only on the merit of its projection. Pieces slipped into place, oddities that did not appear to have a rational explanation now filling themselves into the gaps of his understanding that had appeared over the course of the past years of estrangement and political parlay with his own house. With the very ghost of his own father.

He took a deep breath, realizing the new piece that had presented itself into the game of heirs and destinies. en:"I see..." He tipped his head slightly in feigned wonder, feeling blood drip down his earlobe and a droplet speckle itself once onto his shoulder. en:"So, the Blood Oath has been invoked once more." His eyes narrowed. en:"And you are its Seal."

Vergilius Ricardo Chiadovini-Schiavone.

Even in death, it seemed, Ricardo Benvolio still held his strings.

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Reducio

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Statistics & Abilities

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Seer

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