Ashes to ashes 

dust to dust Outfit @raymond

Many things had brought the Acciai family to England, and many things kept them there. Ornella was the only daughter of her father and the family was rather small. They had few that they married into and fewer that they wanted to tie their family to, and after meeting a certain someone at the Parkinson wedding she was sure that her brother was working on something. Fabi had been more secretive than normal and frankly she didn’t give a damn who he was tying her to. All she knew was that he had drafted a contract with the family lawyers, a dowry had been set for her as well. Which she thought was a little silly, but men did what they wanted. She was a use for power and connections. She would be expected to produce heirs, look pretty and hold a household together.

So long as she could keep working and making potions then would do as she was bid. It was getting colder and December would be upon them. She wanted this done before Christmas. Hosting a christmas party as a pureblood wife was something that she had enjoyed before, though she had been nothing more than Giovanni’s trophy. Not any more, and not again. She was trained well enough that she knew how to get rid of whomever she was tied to, should she need it.

A cigarette was lit in the end of the holder that she carried and she wore a fur wrap to cover her bare shoulders and walked through the restaurant on her brother's arm. She had been told to make a statement and if nothing else she had done that. Walking towards the table she was pleasantly surprised to see that the man she was meeting with her brother was the gentlemen she had met at the wedding.

Buona sera signore Fabi said greeting the man and bowing. Nella, however did not curtsey. She merely watched the man, smoking from her holder in a bored fashion. Her brother made the introductions and then she was seated across from @raymond .

Outfit

Amusing, really, how after all these centuries, the Kvothe main branch always fell back on old ties instead of forging new allegiances... the same names cropping up every few generations. There was a reason Raymond was as he was, but that was a mistake they were trying to iron out in the later generations. Some ideals had been put to rest- mostly- to make sure of a brighter future for them all without letting go of the ones they knew they could trust and rely on. As such, being contacted by the main branch was a momentus occasion no matter who you were and what your stations was, and you didn't ignore what they had to say. To do so would be to forfeit your bloodline and your name, where you would be left with no title and no pride. Where your surname would be changed for you overnight and your previous would hold no weight with you attached to it. For this reason and this reason only, Raymond had agreed to the summons of a Fabrizio Acciai to the biggest restaurant in their little sector to discuss... marriage. And not just any marriage, but his own.

Not his previous farce to Kattarina, but a future one with a woman he'd had a scant conversation with at the Thereoux wedding. Ornella. He only recalled her because he had a mind for such things, not because she had left much of an impression on him. People rarely did these days regardless of the situation. At the age he was at now... what reason did he have for marriage to a Witch he neither knew now or had known in the past? He had grown rather used to his own company in fact. The isolation and solitude suited him and his mindset. A woman waltzing into the thick of that could very well upset everything... and then where would they be?

As it was, he still managed to arrive early. Ever the gentleman. The way he had been raised would be what he died with, for manners and propriety excelled over all. When the pair finally approached the designated table, he stood from his seat, his cold eyes glancing at the brother before settling for a moment on his to-be betrothed. The insolence of how blasé she was to this situation put his back up to the point he stood straighter and visibly dismissed her with his expression to turn back to Fabrizio. After the introductions, he waited till she sat before retaking his seat and sighed near-silently, gracefully taking back up his glass of whisky. "You have a proposal for me, I am to understand?" He asked finally, setting the crystal back down to the table. Still, he blatantly refused to look at her. Cigarette smoke... how fitting. "You must be confident in order to have approached the Kvothe main line. Your choice, it must be said, is quite intriguing."

Ornella, or Nella to those lucky enough to form a friendship with her, was old fashioned. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to play the game to get it. Fabi was easy enough to play, pull a few strings here and a few there and before she knew it, the idea had seemed like one their father had given. Of course she knew not to flaunt her idea, or that it had been her own. She had been struck for doing so before and a repeat was certainly not something that she wanted to happen; instead she smiled and nodded when she was supposed to and kept her mouth shut when she wasn't supposed to. She was a good girl, her father said it time and again. She knew the kind of life that she wanted. She knew the kind of man that she wanted. He had a reputation, was dangerous, and she liked it. She was intrigued by the idea of a man who seemed so, angry. Perhaps it was the side of her that liked to walk that thin line of pleasure and pain, or maybe she was just stupid. Either way, she was going to attempt this idea.

The waiter came and she looked to her brother who ordered her usual and she handed away the wrap that she was wearing before putting out the cigarette before lighting another. She inhaled the sweet red smoke of the hand treated Acciai Magic Reds. She loved the cherry taste and being laced helped keep her nerves calm. The last thing that she wanted to do was make a fool of her big brother. Of course Cesare was a different case and she typically treated him as if he was her assistant. He was so wet behind the ears that he would be lucky if he ever married. He was a fool, and one that she only tolerated because he was her family. 

Taking the wine from the waiter she sniffed it, taking in the bouquet before holding up her hand to the man. "He asked for a Vintage 1942 cabernet sauvignon. This is not that. This is not even close, it is a Merlot. Now, go." She said putting the glass on the tray and waving the man away before muttering to herself. "Fottuto idiota, non possono assumere nessuno con un cervello?" She was not sure if her brother heard her or not, and she didn't really care. She was old enough to speak her mind and not fear saying bad words. If Raymond heard her, she didn't fear it either. She had learned a long time ago that it was not the opinions of men that one should fear, but instead the actions of them, and in the case such as hers; sometimes it was the woman who was to be feared.

A smile formed on her lips and she raised her eyes to watch the man as he spoke. He was older, handsome in a hard lived life kind of way. Her brother was soft, and pretty. Spoiled. They all knew it. He had not struggled once in his young life to get to where he was and it made him happy, but it also made him a fool. Without risk there was no reward. Perhaps that was why he was getting so fat.

"Si, for countless centuries, our families have been intertwined. For years, we have linked the three families together to be stronger more powerful and it has been so much more of a blessing than anyone would have thought. I come to you with the offer of my sister, Ornella." Ornella bowed her head for a moment before taking a glass of the correct wine and smiled at the man across from her before swirling the glass and sipping. It was perfect, her favorite. "You are both unwed and my father, and I, both feel that a match made here, with you both being so well placed in society, it wold be a well made match."

Fabi gave the man the contract that listed the size of the dowry, and the home she had, along with anything else they had been willing to part with. She still did not speak but finished the last of the red smoke and then put away the holder in exchange for the wine glass, sipping for the flavor, not to be drunk.

The Wozard had no particularly strong allegiance to anyone who didn't carry the Kvothe name, and even that was debatable at best. Those he could call 'friends' were merely a different sort of ally but there was nothing close about the relationship at any point. Nothing special. Julius' company so far had been the easiest so by proxy he supposed that stood as a better 'friendship' than the others. With no emotional attachment. Raymond had never really had anyone close to him in life because he didn't have the capacity to care- not that he had ever dwelled on it- as he seemed to have been born with an innate lack of empathy. Replaced with apathy, perhaps. Gerald had never seemed all that caring either but he had witnessed it on a few occasions in the past; usually towards Damion or his flings. Whatever had caused Damion to tirn out so soft and disgusting had to have come from his monster of a mother and nothing to do with his own line. Usually Kvothe's were quite passionate... but the British climate seemed to have turned its attention to less emotional exploits.

Smoking had never held an appeal for him. He found it tended to grate on his nerves when used obnoxiously, but the underlying sweet smell permeating from his female companion almost made him smile. It wasn't necessarily pleasant but yet people in his line of interests rarely came across what most would term as 'nice' so he dismissed the matter. If this was something that did in actual fact go ahead then he'd address the matter in private and not in a public setting. He didn't particularly want another wife, but he wasn't in a position as such to negate the main branch's ideals. He had made two mistakes already and that was two mistakes too many so in a way they were trying to hand him a lifeline to redeem himself from his failures. Keep his name on the tree with his honour.

Pale eyes roamed over the woman critically, almost in a calculating manner as she handed back the wine and spouted a spiel of disgruntled Italian. He'd noticed a few things. One: The service here was unreliable and lacking. Two: It was clear that the brother wasn't the one in control here and was only serving as a figurehead- the fact that she spoke so authoritarian gave it away. Lastly: This was going to be an interesting encounter regardless of what happened, and if he was to take this woman as his next lawful companion then life would take a turn for intriguing. The latter was a large if. Currently he wasn't being swayed, and first impressions were everything. "How curious... that a woman of your ilk could be so crass." Quiet as ever, his mouth barely moving. Like her, he cared not if she took affront. It was a comment like any other but it wasn't blatant. Respectful, almost.

Raymond twitched his suit closer to himself, warding off an almost indiscernible breeze that wove past them upon a few newcomers walking past. Ever since he'd been freed, he had never been able to fully shake the chill of Azkaban. It was like walking around with a dementor constantly trailing him for how cold he always felt... but it didn't usually bother him. Perhaps today was different because of the situation he found himself in. His mind wasn't calm as such currently... it was thinking too much to allow itself to revert back to its favourite functional state. Because for now he had to wear a facade. To pretend he was normal, or at least like others.

"Four. Four families. At least... on our side. He drawled, taking a sip of his drink. His eyes flicked back up to focus intently on Ornella for a moment, then looked back to her brother as his gaze narrowed slightly. "Positions such as? I know nothing about her. Nor you. The Acciai name holds a lot of weight, but so do the Di Santos', the Graille's and the Bianchi's. What is so prudent about this?" Negotiations were a way of life and it had been more than a little while since he'd had to talk to anyone about something like this. 37 years, to be precise.

Still, he took the contract in one hand and picked up his glass again in his other, skimming for specifics. He was acutely aware of the man's breathing to his side. Of Ornella's mannerisms while she drank. "Sizeable assets. A generous offer. I still can't help buy wonder over how my name came to your attention or how this... betrothal was drafted."