Rabbit Rambles

I slept later than I should have, but Vito hadn’t released me until the early hours of the morning, and after a series of creative humiliations. I had managed to eat my meal, however, and gained a deep respect for my uncle. I reached out an arm and found the bed empty – I’d fallen into it beside a sleeping Prevot, but when I looked around, I found her at the desk. “What’s that?” I croaked. Her head snapped around to see me. “A letter.” “To whom?” She hesitated a moment. “House De Santis.” “You gave me a day and a night to consider your plan, no?” I pushed myself upright and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “The letter isn’t yet sent,” she countered, as the quill drank another draught of ink. “How is my aunt?” “Well enough. The pregnancy saps her strength, but she’s in good humor. She wishes to know you better, and to introduce you to the children.” “I will love to know my family when all this is finished,” I agreed. Prevot glanced over her shoulder at me, but didn’t...

               We received word that House Renaud would arrive the next evening, and a flurry of activity distracted me, somewhat, from Prevot’s words. A tailor and several seamstresses came to take Prevot’s measurements and mine, and provided dresses and suits, already made, of course, to choose from – they would alter them to fit so that we would be presentable for the company. Little could be done about my boots, but the cobbler insisted that he could bring a shine back to them, and had other options in his toolbox. I wore house slippers in the meantime and felt somewhat foolish – I was often barefoot or in sandals on my island, but those days felt far away, and I missed them as often as not. I hoped once the tailor disappeared that Prevot and I would have more time to talk, but Edoardo came to visit with a herd of children in tow, introduced as my nieces and nephews and various other noble children. I could see the strong blood Edoardo ...

Everyone say 'thank you, Marie'. Here's some more Venice for you. And thank you, Marie. I was not afforded much time to view my ancestral home – Edoardo called for a servant to prepare our food and then led me to the stables without pause. He selected a horse for me and we prepared them. By the time we were ready, the servant joined us with a basket of food and supplies for the outing. Prevot followed behind, a look of distraction and concern on her features. I didn’t ask after Tiago – I knew it wasn’t the time. But she tucked her head under my chin and I instinctively wrapped my arms around her. Edoardo stepped away to prepare a horse for her and grant us privacy for the intimate moment. I was embarrassed by the display, despite the limited audience and my much freer childhood, but I also felt stronger in that moment. I was a guardian, one who could give comfort. I liked the feeling. Edoardo led the way through his lands and pointed, with rare explanation, at the occas...

In Lewisville, there is a place called The Pines Motel. It is on the corner of Interstate 35 and Business 121 and subtle enough that I lived in Lewisville for about four years before I even noticed the place. Merely speculating, I imagine at least one murder has taken place there, and while they have no website to poke around, I did find a delightful tidbit in an online Makerspace: "...  The Pine Motel was initially a really nice motor lodge and had one of the first swimming pools in Denton County. Rumors are that there are some bodies at the bottom of the pool which is now filled in. During the Texas International Pop Festival in 1969, the pines hosted some of the headliner bands, supposedly Janice Joplin, Santana, Grand Funk Railroad filled the motel. By the time I moved to Lewisville in 1974, it was a wreck and a pretty low grade place, not even making 1 star. The City of Lewisville has constantly looked for ways to improve the look of the place. Since they have never remodeled...

It's been... a minute. To say there's been a lot going on is an understatement. Today, I learned about myself that when things get heavy or stressful or overwhelming, one of the first things to go by the wayside is my writing. Which seems... not great. Considering it's my biggest creative outlet. But it's work. Not in the career kind of way (unless you're going that route) but creativity is work. I know a lot of creative types. I grew up around some weirdos and nerds and a couple of freaks and every single one of them is creative and every single one of them struggles, at some point or another, with their creativity because it is HARD. There are layers and so many decisions and judgement suppression systems to navigate. But. It's also worth it. Another realization I had today (courtesy of therapy - get your therapized, peeps. You are worth it, and it does help, and it is important.) was: Years ago, I would write basically any waking moment I had free. The ideas ...

Our arrival to the Galli estate was both a relief and filled me with dread. I realized that the outdoors now filled me with dread; every unknown sound was a threat and every shadow brought me a shaking, sweating sensation that would have put the hairs on my neck on alert if they ever managed to lay down. The lines of the estate were rounder than I’d seen with De Santis and Greco, but Galli was a younger family by noble standards, and their property showed its youth in various ways. As we arrived, we saw two dozen children of various ages running about the lawns, trailed by a team of minders and servants. The older ones made note of our arrival with a shrewdness I envied. Born to this world, they had every advantage I lacked with only Tiziano’s teaching. I saw Tiago watching the children longingly, but he made no move to join them. His injured arm was in a sling now and he shifted the cloth on his neck uncomfortably; it was humid today. A branch in the road of approach directed my...

Prevot didn’t share my bed again during our journey to Galli’s estate. We hadn’t spoken or engaged in any way, but held each other until dawn when she snuck away again. I understood and only missed her presence for the comfortable closeness I’d needed so much. Tiago’s arm had made some improvement from the ointment, but I gathered it was not as much as expected, and I could tell Prevot was preoccupied with it, despite the façade she presented otherwise. Two of our wagons broke wheels, which would have been exciting if not for our recent terrors. The fixes were relatively easy and we lost little time. When we were a day away, I sent Vana and another scout to herald our arrival. I wondered how we would be received, if at all – I expected the news of my identity would have traveled by now, too many people had been made aware and someone cunning could match my age and description. Inside my tent, Tiago, Prevot, and I sat at my little table. Tiago was practicing his letters and mathemat...