The sky was slate colored with no visible signs of the sun as he stepped out of the mansion that cold winter's morning. The usual vivid colors of the grounds were muted, even non-existent in some places. The weather suited his mood, somber with a touch of sadness. It was neither raining nor snowing, though the clouds overhead threatened to unleash their icey shavings at any given moment.
He was dressed for the weather. Atop his head, a thick sheepskin hat with ear flaps, tied to the top of the hat. His long brown hair jutted out of the back of it like a shaft of wheat after threshing. Around his neck a tan colored knitted scarf, looped and tied close to prevent any chilly breezes from reaching his skin. The gloves matched the hat, tan Italian sheepskin. His woolen duster covered him from shoulder to mid calf. Black wool pants and thick socks with a pair of dressed up Doc Martins completed his ensemble.
When Andre had asked why he was in Rhydin, one of the reasons he gave was to pay his respects to his cousin's graves. He hadn't seen Noni and Angelo since he was a small child, but the memories of them stood out freshly, as if it were only the day before. He strode with a purpose towards the little cemetery on the Estate's grounds.
The small gate was unlatched and he stepped through it with ease. It closed behind him of it's own accord. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, his steps slowed to a leisurely strolled pace. A smile flashed upon his face as the first of many happy memories flooded into his mind.
They were no more than eight or nine years old and their parents had taken them on a camping trip. It was night, and while the adults sat around their own campfire, the children had one of their own. He sat cross-legged on the ground, Noni beside him and Angelo across from them. The story Angelo told his younger sister and cousin was of monsters, werewolves and vampires. Of bloody corpses and people rising from the dead. It truly scared the young Fabrizio through and through. He clung to Noni until the end of the story. Angelo had leaped up and shouted "Boo!" Which had Fabrizio up and running to the safety of his mothers' arms. Noni got up and walked up to her brother, just as bravely as she could and smacked him hard on the arm for frightening Fabrizio.
Fabrizio produced a towel from his pocket. Placing it onto the frozen and snow covered ground, he dropped to one knee upon the towel, between Angelo's and Noni's graves. Reaching out, he carefully brushed the snow from first Noni's grave marker, then Angelo's. They were both on a marble base, with the actual marker bronze with raised lettering. They were very simple and elegant. "Noni." A brief, sad smile upon his face as he deposited a single lavender rose across her name on the bronze plaque. "Angelo, mi amigo." He blinks back tears as he places a white rose over Angelo's name.
As he sat there, he stoically stared up at the sky. If he closed his eyes, unchecked tears would flow. He thought of how her hair looked in the firelight. It was naturally dark and curly, but in the dead of the night, it seemed pitch black. He could remember her laugh, and that sound echoed in his head.
A single tear tracked it's way down his cheek as he looked back down at their graves. Angelo's voice came through his cloudy haze. "Big boys don't cry, Brizio." With that memory, he laughed bitter-sweetly.
"Today they do, Angelo." He murmurs quietly. Rising from his kneel, he picks up the damp towel and folds it between his hands. Another deep breath was taken before he turns from the graves. "Descanse bien, mis primos. Yo le ver? otra vez, alg?n d?a." And without another word, Fabrizio walks back to the house and inside. The cloth was discarded into a trashcan before he went to his room. He would spend the rest of the day in solitude, with nothing more to keep him company than the memory of his cousins lost.
He was dressed for the weather. Atop his head, a thick sheepskin hat with ear flaps, tied to the top of the hat. His long brown hair jutted out of the back of it like a shaft of wheat after threshing. Around his neck a tan colored knitted scarf, looped and tied close to prevent any chilly breezes from reaching his skin. The gloves matched the hat, tan Italian sheepskin. His woolen duster covered him from shoulder to mid calf. Black wool pants and thick socks with a pair of dressed up Doc Martins completed his ensemble.
When Andre had asked why he was in Rhydin, one of the reasons he gave was to pay his respects to his cousin's graves. He hadn't seen Noni and Angelo since he was a small child, but the memories of them stood out freshly, as if it were only the day before. He strode with a purpose towards the little cemetery on the Estate's grounds.
The small gate was unlatched and he stepped through it with ease. It closed behind him of it's own accord. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, his steps slowed to a leisurely strolled pace. A smile flashed upon his face as the first of many happy memories flooded into his mind.
They were no more than eight or nine years old and their parents had taken them on a camping trip. It was night, and while the adults sat around their own campfire, the children had one of their own. He sat cross-legged on the ground, Noni beside him and Angelo across from them. The story Angelo told his younger sister and cousin was of monsters, werewolves and vampires. Of bloody corpses and people rising from the dead. It truly scared the young Fabrizio through and through. He clung to Noni until the end of the story. Angelo had leaped up and shouted "Boo!" Which had Fabrizio up and running to the safety of his mothers' arms. Noni got up and walked up to her brother, just as bravely as she could and smacked him hard on the arm for frightening Fabrizio.
Fabrizio produced a towel from his pocket. Placing it onto the frozen and snow covered ground, he dropped to one knee upon the towel, between Angelo's and Noni's graves. Reaching out, he carefully brushed the snow from first Noni's grave marker, then Angelo's. They were both on a marble base, with the actual marker bronze with raised lettering. They were very simple and elegant. "Noni." A brief, sad smile upon his face as he deposited a single lavender rose across her name on the bronze plaque. "Angelo, mi amigo." He blinks back tears as he places a white rose over Angelo's name.
As he sat there, he stoically stared up at the sky. If he closed his eyes, unchecked tears would flow. He thought of how her hair looked in the firelight. It was naturally dark and curly, but in the dead of the night, it seemed pitch black. He could remember her laugh, and that sound echoed in his head.
A single tear tracked it's way down his cheek as he looked back down at their graves. Angelo's voice came through his cloudy haze. "Big boys don't cry, Brizio." With that memory, he laughed bitter-sweetly.
"Today they do, Angelo." He murmurs quietly. Rising from his kneel, he picks up the damp towel and folds it between his hands. Another deep breath was taken before he turns from the graves. "Descanse bien, mis primos. Yo le ver? otra vez, alg?n d?a." And without another word, Fabrizio walks back to the house and inside. The cloth was discarded into a trashcan before he went to his room. He would spend the rest of the day in solitude, with nothing more to keep him company than the memory of his cousins lost.