FILL: Della Rovere/Micheletto, Exploration of the Lemon Scene (1/2)floatxxawayJune 27 2011, 08:20:15 UTC
Had to, had to fill this. Sorry for the delay, but at least now it's here. And I kinda like it.
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When Micheletto, Orsini's servant, first comes to him in the wake of the failed assassination, Cardinal Della Rovere thinks it is something of a blessing. He is granted this man in his hour of need, when Della Rovere must act swiftly and carefully to ensure his fight against Borgia.
Micheletto has such sharp, interesting features and Della Rovere is curious, fascinated, and a great deal of many other things. He doesn't let himself get away from the purpose just yet, though. "And they tortured you for how long?"
"A day and a night, Your Eminence."
"And you revealed?"
"There was nothing to reveal, Your Eminence," Micheletto says.
Della Rovere comes to stand behind him, reaching out and pulling at the collar of Micheletto's shirt. He can see Micheletto's unease before the man looks forward and down again. Della Rovere tugs and yanks at the shirt, exposing Micheletto's torso and the long, red welts and open stripes on his back. The blades of his shoulders shift under the pale skin, knobs of spine stretching the wounds, and Micheletto lets out the softest breath of discomfort. Despite this, he still looks as if he is made from marble with the lines of his slender form and the hard compacted muscle.
"Ecce homo," Della Rovere breathes as he stares, tracing with his eyes where the lashes meet but never cross over each other. The center ones are deep, ready to break open and bleed again.
Micheletto turns his head, but doesn't look directly at Della Rovere as the Cardinal switches to studying him.
"Behold, the man," Della Rovere translates. He returns to the mess of Micheletto's back, regarding the injuries once more. "They scourged our savior thus."
Was it the Borgia in arms that wielded the whip, the one dragging him from the room? Della Rovere imagines this torture, the demand for plot or any confession just so it would stop; Micheletto's suffering, enduring, and prevailing?
Della Rovere can see pain in the stiff curve of Micheletto's posture, in the set of his legs. Was Micheletto put on the rack too, bound and stretched, after the whip? Blood left behind upon the device when he was taken down when he would not break, or when he did.
Della Rovere walks away from the opposite side, sparing another look to Micheletto before turning to the table. "Is it true what's being rumored?" He picks up a knife in one hand, lemon in the other. "That the good Cardinal inadvertently poisoned himself."
Micheletto's brows furrow in confusion, just barely, before his expression smoothes. "Who would have benefited from his death?"
Della Rovere keeps staring as he carefully cuts into the fruit, says, "Certainly not Cardinal Orsini."
"Who takes possession of his properties?"
"Borgia." The name leaves a bad taste in Della Rovere's mouth.
Micheletto gives a small nod, "Well then."
Della Rovere lifts his chin. “These methods are not mine."
Micheletto's eyes drop, trained to a spot in the corner. He says, very carefully, "Do you think they are mine, Your Eminence?"
"What are your methods?" Della Rovere asks, approaching Micheletto again.
Micheletto says, "Discretion," as Della Rovere comes to stand very near. He says, voice barely softening but Della Rovere notices, "Silence."
Della Rovere holds his gaze, Micheletto's wide blue eyes. "And you suffered for your silence." He looks to Micheletto's back and asks, "Why?"
Della Rovere finds he's leaning into Micheletto, watching every reaction, when the man answers, "Like you, I hate this Borgia."
Della Rovere looks down, smiles, and wants to laugh. He rotates the lemon in his hands as he continues to cut, continues to work his way through the middle. "I need someone I could trust."
Micheletto turns to face forward. "You can trust my hatred of this Borgia Pope."
Della Rovere lifts the fruit over Micheletto's back, squeezes, watches the juice flow down and over the wounds. Micheletto wavers on his feet, the shortest sway, but he doesn't fall. He breathes short, fast gusts out through his nose, but otherwise remains quiet. He even recovers fairly quickly, trembling once before he stands straight with his eyes averted.
FILL: Della Rovere/Micheletto, Exploration of the Lemon Scene (2/2)floatxxawayJune 27 2011, 08:20:44 UTC
Della Rovere studies the lines around Micheletto's eyes. "I can trust these wounds of yours?"
Micheletto swallows, blinks purposefully to steady himself, Della Rovere engrossed in every movement. Micheletto speaks slowly, swallows again and again while he says, "They will last a lifetime, Your Eminence."
"Indeed."
With Micheletto still only standing there, his shirt hanging around his waist with Della Rovere almost pressing against him, the Cardinal tells him what is required first. He holds the crushed fruit and stares at Micheletto as he finishes, stressing, "In absolute secrecy."
The man nods and Della Rovere echoes it, walking back to the table to set the items down. He turns, and Micheletto hesitates through dressing while Della Rovere watches.
Della Rovere wonders if Micheletto would allow him to be looked upon when he not tending to his duties, to be in sight while Della Rovere privately tends to his? Della Rovere tells himself he can look because he is basking in this man, in this creation of God, at the beauty of life. He just wishes to look.
And if this man is truly with him, in this fight, he would be most valuable.
---
When Micheletto, Orsini's servant, first comes to him in the wake of the failed assassination, Cardinal Della Rovere thinks it is something of a blessing. He is granted this man in his hour of need, when Della Rovere must act swiftly and carefully to ensure his fight against Borgia.
Micheletto has such sharp, interesting features and Della Rovere is curious, fascinated, and a great deal of many other things. He doesn't let himself get away from the purpose just yet, though. "And they tortured you for how long?"
"A day and a night, Your Eminence."
"And you revealed?"
"There was nothing to reveal, Your Eminence," Micheletto says.
Della Rovere comes to stand behind him, reaching out and pulling at the collar of Micheletto's shirt. He can see Micheletto's unease before the man looks forward and down again. Della Rovere tugs and yanks at the shirt, exposing Micheletto's torso and the long, red welts and open stripes on his back. The blades of his shoulders shift under the pale skin, knobs of spine stretching the wounds, and Micheletto lets out the softest breath of discomfort. Despite this, he still looks as if he is made from marble with the lines of his slender form and the hard compacted muscle.
"Ecce homo," Della Rovere breathes as he stares, tracing with his eyes where the lashes meet but never cross over each other. The center ones are deep, ready to break open and bleed again.
Micheletto turns his head, but doesn't look directly at Della Rovere as the Cardinal switches to studying him.
"Behold, the man," Della Rovere translates. He returns to the mess of Micheletto's back, regarding the injuries once more. "They scourged our savior thus."
Was it the Borgia in arms that wielded the whip, the one dragging him from the room? Della Rovere imagines this torture, the demand for plot or any confession just so it would stop; Micheletto's suffering, enduring, and prevailing?
Della Rovere can see pain in the stiff curve of Micheletto's posture, in the set of his legs. Was Micheletto put on the rack too, bound and stretched, after the whip? Blood left behind upon the device when he was taken down when he would not break, or when he did.
Della Rovere walks away from the opposite side, sparing another look to Micheletto before turning to the table. "Is it true what's being rumored?" He picks up a knife in one hand, lemon in the other. "That the good Cardinal inadvertently poisoned himself."
Micheletto's brows furrow in confusion, just barely, before his expression smoothes. "Who would have benefited from his death?"
Della Rovere keeps staring as he carefully cuts into the fruit, says, "Certainly not Cardinal Orsini."
"Who takes possession of his properties?"
"Borgia." The name leaves a bad taste in Della Rovere's mouth.
Micheletto gives a small nod, "Well then."
Della Rovere lifts his chin. “These methods are not mine."
Micheletto's eyes drop, trained to a spot in the corner. He says, very carefully, "Do you think they are mine, Your Eminence?"
"What are your methods?" Della Rovere asks, approaching Micheletto again.
Micheletto says, "Discretion," as Della Rovere comes to stand very near. He says, voice barely softening but Della Rovere notices, "Silence."
Della Rovere holds his gaze, Micheletto's wide blue eyes. "And you suffered for your silence." He looks to Micheletto's back and asks, "Why?"
Della Rovere finds he's leaning into Micheletto, watching every reaction, when the man answers, "Like you, I hate this Borgia."
Della Rovere looks down, smiles, and wants to laugh. He rotates the lemon in his hands as he continues to cut, continues to work his way through the middle. "I need someone I could trust."
Micheletto turns to face forward. "You can trust my hatred of this Borgia Pope."
Della Rovere lifts the fruit over Micheletto's back, squeezes, watches the juice flow down and over the wounds. Micheletto wavers on his feet, the shortest sway, but he doesn't fall. He breathes short, fast gusts out through his nose, but otherwise remains quiet. He even recovers fairly quickly, trembling once before he stands straight with his eyes averted.
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Micheletto swallows, blinks purposefully to steady himself, Della Rovere engrossed in every movement. Micheletto speaks slowly, swallows again and again while he says, "They will last a lifetime, Your Eminence."
"Indeed."
With Micheletto still only standing there, his shirt hanging around his waist with Della Rovere almost pressing against him, the Cardinal tells him what is required first. He holds the crushed fruit and stares at Micheletto as he finishes, stressing, "In absolute secrecy."
The man nods and Della Rovere echoes it, walking back to the table to set the items down. He turns, and Micheletto hesitates through dressing while Della Rovere watches.
Della Rovere wonders if Micheletto would allow him to be looked upon when he not tending to his duties, to be in sight while Della Rovere privately tends to his? Della Rovere tells himself he can look because he is basking in this man, in this creation of God, at the beauty of life. He just wishes to look.
And if this man is truly with him, in this fight, he would be most valuable.
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