Real Quick Time-Warp Like Wooooah~
WHO: The Italian Bros
WHEN: Friday October 15th, noon
WHERE: Vargas Mansion #2
WHAT: Feli’s been locked in self-isolation for 4 days, Romano insists he get the hell out.
Feliciano hummed to himself, mind blissfully numb. Nearly four full days of painting with few breaks for food and restroom had successfully pulled all the bad and confliction emotions out. Splayed on paper the confusion and guilt was beautiful. These ones would joins dozens others in a locked closet down the hall where he kept the rest of their kind, rarely to be seen ever again.
He was just finishing up washing his brushes when a harsh, familiar knock pounded on the doors. It was far from Ludwig’s measure and heavy knocks, not the frantic beat driven ones accompanied by annoyed shouts, instead it was the fast rapid knuckle rapping and high volume Italian swears that said it was his brother at the door.
The artist moved over, slipping the apron off himself and rubbing a splatter of paint from his cheek, nudging aside the chair he’d placed under the door knob then unlocking it. He gave his brother a sleep smile, bags under his eyes but looking peaceful.
“Ciao fratello~”
WHEN: Friday October 15th, noon
WHERE: Vargas Mansion #2
WHAT: Feli’s been locked in self-isolation for 4 days, Romano insists he get the hell out.
Feliciano hummed to himself, mind blissfully numb. Nearly four full days of painting with few breaks for food and restroom had successfully pulled all the bad and confliction emotions out. Splayed on paper the confusion and guilt was beautiful. These ones would joins dozens others in a locked closet down the hall where he kept the rest of their kind, rarely to be seen ever again.
He was just finishing up washing his brushes when a harsh, familiar knock pounded on the doors. It was far from Ludwig’s measure and heavy knocks, not the frantic beat driven ones accompanied by annoyed shouts, instead it was the fast rapid knuckle rapping and high volume Italian swears that said it was his brother at the door.
The artist moved over, slipping the apron off himself and rubbing a splatter of paint from his cheek, nudging aside the chair he’d placed under the door knob then unlocking it. He gave his brother a sleep smile, bags under his eyes but looking peaceful.
“Ciao fratello~”