Early morning interruptions

[Alessio Bellanti]

The morning was crisp with spring, and the few trees that were in the Corte Artigiana were already beginning to bud. Kupala Notte would soon be upon them before they knew it, and if anyone the Crearites, they took any holiday seriously. Without a doubt, their dearest Mazarine Barzaghi would make sure her people were heard this time around for the summer holiday.

Not many in Creare woke up before noon, as many of them worked well into the night on their projects or their parties. One artist in question actually got up relatively early for the very fact that everyone else slept in. There were few people in the canals with their gondolas and the streets, which meant the Corte Artigiana wouldn’t have anyone, or at least a very few numbers, within it.

It was a massive courtyard with buildings on each side. The only way in was through the alleys between the buildings, or going through them, and coming out the back way. One of which was a small tavern that offered out drinks some nights, when small gatherings were held.

A string of small lanterns had been strung up around the walls of the courtyard, all connecting in the center at the fountain, to provide light at night. The center of the courtyard was the large wishing fountain, where many tossed coins and small prayers to Linh for inspiration. There was some foliage, mainly small flower beds, and the scarce few trees, but they provided ample shade beneath their canopies and ideal sitting spots for the artist that sat beneath them.

Alessio Bellanti was one of the said artists. His back was to one of the narrow trunks as he sat with his legs stretched out in front of him. His ankles were crossed and he had a well-used and worn sketchbook in his lap as the piece of graphite he held practically flew across the page. He liked to sit there in the mornings for the quiet. To help calm the voices in his head that always seemed to be talking at him a mile a minute with so many ideas. In the quiet morning, they were silent. He was currently working out the math to his latest invention. Trying to figure out how much weight his flying contraption would be able to hold, and if he would have to haggle for more hide to use.

He tapped the graphite against his chin, when a chirp caught his attention, drawing him out of his thought process. He looked up to see a few of the birds also taking advantage of the quiet, and his fingers were already turning the page in his sketchbook. His head had to crane back a bit to see them properly as they hopped around the limps, but his hand was already moving as he started to quickly sketch the bird’s movements. Unaware to anything else that might be approaching.

Everette Northman