It was in one of those gentle moments which passed as their whispers did, within the garden, that Nicoletta held no doubt there would be poets and painters, who would sell their soul, if possible for but the chance to attempt to keep some part of Serafina immortal through their art. A gift to give their sons and their sons sons, throughout time, that once such a glorious angel walked the earth amongst mortal men. As she whispered conspiratorially to the Angel and breathed in the air blessed with the girls own scent, a question formed within the confines of her deft mind that only for a moment brought a shadow across her features, ferreted away to be explored when there was not color upon her cheeks or a plan hatching from her lips.<br/><br/>Now, what passed between Serafina and Nicoletta in those whispers was indeed mischievous in many ways. And once they had set themselves to task, it was certain it must be followed through- for a lesson must be learned, although with Aless she had learned long ago often the learning went both ways.<br/><br/>Grateful she was for the help of the staff, always capable of being able to pull off the most stunning of triumphs, even if it was merely upon one of her whims or wills and this was no different. For as Nicoletta moved her 'pawns' to watch the road and took up residence for a few short moments scripting invitations and giving instructions, it was from her own closet that Serafina would be outfitted for this evening, although measurements were taken to start her own closet, of course. Game afoot or not, there was no need to neglect such responsibilities. Cloth and colors for some of those garments would come later, Aless would need to give his in such regards, for now Nicoletta amused herself with the basics.<br/><br/>And so quickly the afternoon became evening and the evening became night. Now, Nicoletta was not prepared for how long it would take for her 'pawns' to run back, giving warning that he was finally approaching, his man in 'arms' at his side and the poor boy near shoeless wandering behind. But the afternoon had passed preparing and the evening bleeding into night had been spent in a glorious fashion.<br/><br/>After all, one didn't get to host a 'funeral' feast without the sorrow often, did they?<br/><br/>The drapes of ebon color were brought in rolls from one of the finer houses owned, where an exotic play of sorts had called for them.  In fact, it was quite apparent house was outfitted both for feast and mourning-- the gauzy darkness flowing from pillars and off balconies, kissed by the beautiful firelight of candles brought to fill the night with a macabre sort of beauty. The smells of flowers and food seeped outwards with the breeze of open doors and windows- to kiss the moon light dancing over the water of fountains with a bitter sweetness as from within, music drifted in the polyphonic kissed tones that sounded so sacred. Only if one listened closely enough to the words, could one hear they were taken from Canticum Canticorum the vernacular making it a madrigal and not a pure motet.<br/><br/>Those who had been invited were told to wear masks, for such was an important factor. Indeed, each guest was hand selected and each wore the simple vestment of mourning in recreation of the 'classical' period. White and black, the tunics and togas were along with the veiling that covered the womens hair, the masks upon features, those were ones that if Alessandro were sober enough might be connected to a 'vice' party once held, each looked the same dependent upon male or female who they adorned. Now, had this been because Nicoletta did not wish to let anyone see Serafina before her coming out - that question could be asked. But the guises allowed the girl to wander amongst the handful of friends that Nicoletta trusted enough to allow within her home.<br/><br/>The guests had been given their instructions and dinner had been fantastic, eaten out of doors while conversations on art and music, on philosophy and religion had taken place, at times a bit too loudly. Serafina was introduced as Nicoletta's ward, which was enough warning to stop even the bolder of their ranks to halt whatever mischief may have been had for the woman whose face could not really be seen anyhow. Besides, the anticipation of when the 'guests' of honor would arrive was eating at each person, until the messenger broke in to whisper into Nicoletta's ear. Gentle she was as she rose from the recline upon her settee, the motion for Seraphina to join her in the back, the other women knew the way to the window in question.<br/><br/>It was an older hand that reached outwards to open the window so that balcony might be broached as a few of the younger women stifled their laughter, and Nicoletta guided Serafina to the middle of the grouping with her.  It was from that window that no less than ten women slipped forwards, the sound of menfolk behind them enjoying their cups as in one voice they spoke downwards, like some oracle of old.<strong>“You interrupt a funeral feast for our Alessandro d’Arellio and his man, Vittorio. What gift do you bring to beg forgiveness for such rudeness? “</strong><br/><br/>Perhaps it was sight enough, the simple garb in it's dark coloring, the veils that covered the hair, the way the white masks glimmered in moonlight as the breeze caught the dark vestments that adorned pillars that braced the balcony on which they stood.  Enjoying the serenade, however off key it was, from their guests of honor down below almost as much as they enjoyed the words that spilled from drunken lips as the lower doors opened and the menfolk in their own garb came to rest on either side of it, spilling out into the courtyard. Oh, perhaps the Dragon had adorned the lair they marched towards with traps a plenty for all their forward assault and its stunning glory, complete with the mirth filled laughter that exploded from their lips in contrast with the feigned solemness of those who received them both on balcony and ground, awaiting their answer.<br/>