"We all find ourselves wearing masks each day, keeping others guessing at our true motives, trying with all our might not to show our true flesh. But not every mask stays in perfect condition and thus they need to be replaced, or else they might shatter."
In the quiet streets on the outskirts of the more populated areas of Venice two figures walk alone along the cold streets, their hands interlaced, as if this simple action would provide both comfort and protection. With a world so dark and grim, it was hard to picture the bleak alley walls to be that of the magical images one person had procured for them.
In fact, it seemed even more somber than what they were running from if it were possible. No, in the bitter night air, in what seemed to be a disserted alleyway, without money, food or water, the signore and signora almost seemed the better of the two options. Almost being the key word. Still, it being ranked better did not fill their empty bellies, didn't quench their thirst, protect them from the biting wind.
- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord-
The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded throughout the seemingly infinite room that was filled with books, files, paper, prized art pieces, and alike, along with a large desk and several chairs. In the center of this overly elegant room stood two figures, both breathing heavily, one holding back shouts of rage, the other choking out cries.
"I do not accept anything below perfect. I don't care that you did the best."
Each time the taller of the two spoke, his palm made contact with the smaller one's cheek, causing the already reddened flesh to glow even brighter.
"I want perfection."
And with those final words of dismissal the lanky male lowered his head even farther as he took a hesitant step back.
"Yes father."
He answered before tentatively removing himself from the confines of his father's study, no longer able to stand the words reverberating off the walls. As he walked along the halls, his footsteps light along the floor, he surreptitiously removed a small, gilded trinket off its place and pocketed it as he made his way toward his room.
Upon arriving the darkened space the boy entered, looking around for something particular. The space itself looked to be that looked to be the generic love child of wealth and elaborate extravagance without any personality save for the paintings features in the expensive frames, each expressing dark, gothic depictions, and also the small trinkets, books, and papers littering the desk in the corner.
Each of these looked quite out of place in a house that seemed to exude the feel of infinite pockets yet no one to spend it on. It was one of these trinkets- a silver chain with several jewels hanging from it- that the boy seemed to be searching for as his long, spindly fingers grasped and soon it too joined whatever else had found home in the boy's pocket.
Next the boy went over to the large mirror hanging above something similar to a vanity table, and then grabbed a small jar containing ivory colored powder. He then proceeded to expertly apply the powder to his now raw looking face, going over red with white until it blended in with the untouched ivory.
Once this task was complete the jar was sealed and placed into the pocket, its contents growing all the while. The coat was then tossed onto the bedspread, its contents staying in place as the boy quickly disrobed, removing the expensive confections before replacing them with worn dark jeans, monochromatic stripped shirt, worn high top converse and black coat that went past his knees.
Once dressed he went back to the bed and removed the pocket's contents and placing it in the black coat's before moving over to the balcony, only dropping from it to the ground below after placing the black plague mask over his ivory face.
- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord-
The thief lord found himself among the shadows of tall buildings, unnoticed by the people inhabiting them, just mere feet away from the masked figure, his person exuding nothing but trouble and mischief.
He moved like a cat, all grace and finesse as he slunk around each corner, not a sound coming from him despite his pilfered treasures being disturbed by each of slinking movements.
The boy soon found himself in his needed path, heading straight to the back entrance to a once grand building that had been left to ruin, the Stella. A once magnificent theatre that now was functioning as living quarters to several children with no where else to go.
- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord-
"This is where mom wanted us to be."
Spoke Prosper as calmly as he could, trying not to let his fear and loss of hope enter his voice and thus reveal the most saddening truth of his capabilities.
"Here?"
Asked the smaller of the two, a small child with angel light blonde hair and slightly reddened nose and cheeks caused by the bitter cold wind that ripped past the two brothers mercilessly.
"Not here. In Venice."
Answered Prosper, moving the chestnut colored locks from out of his face and behind his ear as he wondered what they were going to do, even wondering if he should just go to the policia and tell them that he and his brother had run away and tell them where the Hartliebs were.
In all honesty, he was willing to do anything for his baby brother who now seemed to have an ever worsening cough. If it got any worse he already had his decision.
When he heard Boniface fall victim to another string of hoarse coughing made the elder bite his lip in worry.
- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord- the thief lord-
The sounds of footsteps and people shouting back and forth, forcing the thief lord to fall back into the shadows, looking around all the while for a better hiding space before his gaze fell upon a fire escape.
Just as fast as the three men running down the alley the thief lord had been hiding in, each yelling, the boy had disappeared out of sight, now sitting on the rooftop of the building, playing gargoyle.
Staring down at the people passing by, the men with all their shouting and authority, the young Massimo glowered at them, his gaze so harsh that if looks could kill the men below would have died a thousand times over. The amount of hatred the boy had for adults just added fuel to the fire in his wish to get away from and save every other child out there who adults turned against.
Unconsciously he raised a hand to his face where the ivory powder held its place, never moving to reveal what it hid just below the thin layer of concealer.
As he got to his feet, the catlike male looked around, seeing that the three men were the only ones that seemed to be out besides the odd drunk who was now trying to find their way home or to the next bar. It was all so pitiful. Even those not yelling for order were still more messed up than any kid could ever be on their own.
The brunette thought distastefully as he made his way skillfully from rooftop to roof top, lost in his musings of the horrors of adult tyranny only to be ripped from his musings by a pair of voices, but unlike the last ones that were gruff and gravely, these were soft, musical almost, and certainly not issuing from any adult's mouth. Scipio moved steadily closer, trying to trace the source of the voices while all the while listening in on every word spoken.
When at last he had located them he looked down at the two children from his perch, noting how each looked as well as surveying their predicament. Each looked pale, almost ashen, thin, dirty, cold, and quite miserable, the elder more miserable than the younger it seemed. All of these descriptions pointed to runaways, thieves much like himself- though the blonde was certainly too little for that, or perhaps victims of a kidnapping or human traffickers. Whatever the situation that lead to what was happening now, the two obviously needed help, and who better to offer help than the great and mighty thief lord?