Contemplating the dead

[Enzo Venturi]

La Belle was bustling that morning. Servants going every which way, trying to get things in order. The cook was barking orders, the maids were frantically cleaning and prepping for the afternoon festivities, and getting ready for the recession that the Venturi’s would be having for the late Francisco Venturi after his funeral. The family themselves were getting ready, or at least...some were trying.

Enzo stood in the door way of his fathers study while people moved passed him in the hall. Being respectful enough to move quietly as Enzo’s dark eyes slow assessed the room. It was his study now. With Father’s passing he would inherit it, and he didn’t know he felt about that… Lost. He felt very lost, as he slowly pushed off the door frame and slowly entered. He was already dressed for the funeral, in the black clothes of mourning. His hair was neatly brushed back, his beard trimmed. Not a thing was out of place, and yet from the expression on Enzo’s face you’d expect he was forgetting something.

He was dreading going through the study and fathers things. Seeing what shape the Bank was really in despite having memorized practically all the books and ledgers. He quietly moved towards the windows. The curtains were still drawn, casting the room in darkness. He reached forward, grasping them before he pulled them open. Revealing the balcony door and the gardens beyond.

Enzo slowly moved to the other windows, opening those curtains as well. Knowing he could leave them for the servants, but he needed to keep his hands busy. Something to keep him occupied, as it was safer then being alone with his mind. He turned towards the desk and slowly lowered himself down into the chair. Resting his elbows on the surface as he rested his chin in the palm of one hand. He reached into his trouser pocket then, pulling out a pocket watch that had been gifted to him by his late grandfather. Now that was a man Enzo respected, and wished he’d gotten to have more time with.

He ran his hand over the face of it. The intricate design of the metal work before he opened the clasp and then looked down the face of the watch. Seeing the needle steadily tick on by as it showed the time. They’d need to be leaving soon for Mass. Enzo knew he should make his way to the front of the house, and yet he didn’t move. He merely stared down at the time with a contemplative look on his face as he sat in that plush chair, wondering if this was all but a dream, or real.

[Nina Venturi]

Nina was among the many trying to make sure things were in order. As lady of the house officially now, it was her duty to make sure everything would be well and ready for after the funeral. It was already a grim affair, and this gathering of people afterwards was meant to try and smooth things over. It was meant to help the deceased's loved ones remember them with fond memories and laughter, if at all possible.

In truth, Nina had very little to say of her late father-in-law, nothing terribly kind, that is, and thus she kept her mouth shut when necessary. Especially because now, there was even more unseen pressure upon her shoulders to bear a Venturi heir. Her life and the life of her family depended upon it.

The very thought made her ill, but she kept herself together as she rushed through the halls of the estate in search of Enzo. It was nearly time to leave and he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, her heels clicked softly upon the stone floor as she rushed, only to draw to a pause when she noticed Francisco's study was open. Drawing in a quiet breath, she watched as the flood of light poured out through the doorway, only to find Enzo seated at his father's desk when she moved to gently lean within the doorway.

For a moment, Nina wondered if she should just walk away, give him more time, but no. Her job was to keep this estate moving.

Another slow, deep breath, she spoke up quietly in hopes of not startling him. "It's nearly time to go, husband." Husband. It was rare that she ever used his first name, especially since she felt so disconnected from him as of late.

[Enzo Venturi]

Tick tick tick...Tock tock tock…
The hand keeps going around the clock,
Hurry, hurry or you’ll be late,
The dead don’t like to wait…

Could the dead really be so impatient if they were already dead? Maybe Fransisco was finally catching up on all the sleep he’d claimed he’d get once he was dead… These were Enzo’s current thoughts as he watched the second hand going around on his watch. Thinking up little poems of the dead and their necessity to stay on time. Or maybe that was just his dead father.

He didn’t even notice the small figure leaning against the door, and it wasn’t until he heard Nina’s voice that he pulled himself from the depths of his mind. Even then, he didn’t look up at her. His deep dark blues continued to watch the time. “So you, and father time tell me…” He spoke quietly. It was strange. There was almost what sounded like amusement in his tone. Since he was watching the time, he clearly knew he needed to get up and go, yet he stayed put.

His forefinger came down on the lid of the watch, snapping it closed slowly. He ran his thumb over the engraving once more before he finally pocketed the watch, and looked up to see his wife ready to go and clearly waiting on him. He studied her for a moment. Taking in her short stature, long dark hair, and those green eyes that reminded him of forest moss. Nina Altieri was certainly a beauty. Something his father had reminded him of constantly in hopes to warm him up to her. Like any fine piece of art, Enzo merely looked and didn’t touch. Even his own wife. Merely for the fact, he thought himself unloveable, and something of Nina’s caliber deserved far better. Still, even in the colors of mourning, he thought her lovely. Despite everything, she was his, and he hers.

He slowly stood up from the chair, but rather than approach his wife, he turned towards one of the windows to look out into the gardens, as a wild and preposterous thought occurred to him. “What if we skipped it?” He asked. If he skipped it, then maybe some part of him would believe Father would come back and he wouldn’t have to step into the role that had always been expected of him. What’ he’d been born for. That was being hopeful, however, and Enzo knew he was stalling, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

[Nina Venturi]

There was a gentle clenching of her teeth when he didn't bother to look up at her, even as she spoke to him. Nina gave him the benefit of the doubt this time, however, considering the dreadful situation that loomed over them. So, she drew in a slow breath, smoothing out the front of her dark skirts.

Her attire was a modest, black gown with a soft oval neckline. She wore no jewelry except for her wedding ring and a small string of pearls around her neck. She kept her hair half up, with a black veil that was customary to use to shield her face during the funeral. She was thankful for it, because she wasn't even sure she would be able to cry. Right now, she felt so numb, a feeling that had been lingering for quite some time now.

When Enzo finally looked up, her back straightened as she folded her hands in front of her; those feline green eyes watching him carefully. She was pushing all resentment aside because she could only fathom what must be going through his mind now. With his father's death, it was his turn to take over the business, and from what she knew and what rumors she had always heard, that wasn't an easy feat to take on.

Her sigh of relief was short-lived as he rose up from his seat, only to turn to the windows instead. Then, he was saying something rather absurd, and her thin brows furrowed together in confusion.

'What if we skipped it?'

Certainly he wasn't serious? But Enzo Venturi wasn't really a joking man- at least, he had never been with her. It was likely that she still didn't know much about him. Regardless, it would take her a moment to realize what was happening, and it was her job to fix it.

"You know we cannot do that," she replied quietly and gently, only taking a couple of steps further into the study. "This family cannot falter now. We need to remain strong." Nina was silent again, her attention dropping from his back to the floor. "I could delay things for perhaps a few minutes more, but...you must be there. Imagine what the people would say?"

[Enzo Venturi]

Oh, but he was being serious. Enzo was always the responsible one. Understanding there were things they had to do and he wasn’t one to normally shy away from doing them. However, today felt different. Today he wanted to rebel for once and not do anything resembling responsibility. It would be so easy to not show up. To just...Keep on walking past the church…

Nina’s gentle voice pulled his thoughts from his brain and his brows furrowed slightly. Nearly resembling a pouting child as he continued to look out the window. She was right now course. He would have said the exact same things to anyone else had the roles been reversed. “Teodoro has enough strength for everyone…” He murmured quietly. Thinking of his uncle who was here from Teronna. He’d been there a month to spend time with Francisco, and his Uncle was certainly a presence. Most of the older Venturi’s were.

He sighed then, his shoulders sagging as he felt that weight once more, bearing down on him. Francisco's legacy and everything that came with it. His father might be dead, but the things he left behind were still very present. “That I myself am either on my death bed or that Francisco's own son refused to see him off properly, I suppose.” He said quietly. He finally turned around, casting his gaze away from the window to look at his wife once more, and he studied her for a moment. Noting the way she held her hands in front of her and looked strong herself. She’d been far busier than him this morning that was for sure.

He slowly approached her then, his eyes showing his quiet admiration for a brief second before he stopped in front of her and his hands gently came to rest on her shoulders. Reaching up to tuck a stray hair in its place. He rarely did this sort of thing, especially as of late, but he was feeling rather out of character that day, probably due to the fact he still expected Francisco to come barging in, and demanding they leave his office. “How have you been holding up?” He asked her gently. Realizing he’d never asked her to see how she was coping with the loss of their former patriarch. “You’ve been doing so much for everyone else, I feel as if I’ve failed to see how you’ve been.” He removed his hands from where they rested on her shoulders, and let them fall neatly at his sides.

[Nina Venturi]

"I'm sure he does," she absently agreed about his uncle. "But he is not your father's heir." Nina knew that Enzo understood that he simply could not walk away from this, however, at the same time, she honestly did wonder if he would try. The stress had hardly even begun, and he already looked tired.

Perhaps that came from everything else in life that caused problems before this. She quietly blamed herself for that.

'That I myself am either on my death bed or that Francisco's own son refused to see him off properly, I suppose.'

Nina just softly sighed to herself, searching her mind for something to say to that. What could she even say? Still, she wouldn't have to think too much because his attention on her suddenly halted everything.

And then she completely froze when he approached.

Things were different and strange between them as of late, there was no denying that, and often times Nina didn't know how to react around him. So, she opted to keep her emotions behind a mask and just stand as the dutiful wife. When he tucked that loose strand off hair back into place, though, that mask cracked a tiny bit. When he pulled his touch away, her skin even beneath her clothes suddenly felt cold.

"I've been fine," she told him quietly, her back still straight. "My job is to see things done, and you've had a lot on your mind." In truth, Nina wasn't sure if she felt relieved or not that their patriarch has passed...because Enzo needed an heir more than ever now. Her face whitened at the thought.

"But...tell me how I can help you now, husband." She could tell him they needed to leave until she was blue in the face, but that may not do any good. Maybe he needed encouragement, simply a hand to hold? She hated this feeling of being strangers.