#diveronaevent

DATE: April 28^th

TIME: 10:48PM

LOCATION: Hotel Emelia Ballroom

TRIGGERS: guns, death, blood

They were in cages, like doves with broken wings. But their wings had been broken forcefully, brutally. They were in cages, like dogs made for fighting. Some of them cut, bruised, and bleeding. They were in cages, like animals – for only animals knew not the rules of reason. So, the witches thought it necessary to enforce respect, to make a spectacle of all who thought themselves above the laws and traditions that all in Verona abided by. The Spades were in cages, as the witches had wished. Their wishes were their desires, and their desires were not to be ignored. Which was why each member of Verona’s elite – and more – had come by to pay homage. Had come to pay tribute to the punishment that had been neglected for too long.

Which was why, when they sought to take vengeance they did so brutally. And with little reservation. 

In their cages, they turned about, spinning gently as the onlookers milled about below them. The chandeliers of the room refracted nicely off the silver of the cages, catching the light of the scarlet blood that spotted some of bars here and there. It was difficult for the audience to take their eyes – some of them gleeful, some of them solemn – from the faces of those who incurred the wrath of the witches. But they did, after much difficulty, to gaze on the prizes that were placed upon pedestals. Guns of the highest quality, butterfly knives, grenades, and an assortment of other weaponry for all to gaze upon and perhaps even buy. Sentries stood in front of them, guarding the goods that were placed behind velvet ropes. They were placed there to see, to gaze at, to bid on – but not to touch, never to touch. Just as the Spades were. A show of power and a show of ruthlessness, with the witches sitting on their thrones to watch it on. 

Cinead watched with their fingers in the shape of a steeple, lips resting gently against them as they watched the cages turn about slowly, eyes hardly blinking. In contrast, Mallory sat next to them, fingers tapping restlessly, eyes flitting about – occasionally their gaze staying too long on someone else’s, too long on something else. There, to the left of Cinead, sat Hea, their body as still as a lynx’s before it pounces on the prey, tensed with the barest of smiles upon their lips as they watched the crowd shiver beneath their gaze. They did not move, they did not speak, they simply observed as items were bid on and weapons were whisked away to be transported to wherever the client wished. Juliana made occasional bids here and there, only to have Tiberius whisper furiously in her ear, a scowl on his face. A frown would quickly follow on the young Capulet’s face as she would quietly wave off the bid, before quietly walking away to the next exhibit. The Capulet soldiers exchanged glances, their lips pressing together as they quietly walked on – the small exchange hardly ever going unnoticed. 

Roman bid here and there, somewhat distracted as he bent his ear to listen to this counsel and that. Ramona, Castora, and Valentina stood close at his side, as did Bellamy who would occasionally give his opinion on this weaponry or that. Many of the Montagues were loathe to leave his side, their shoulders tensed as they glanced at either the Capulets or the Spades above. Their losses had been heavy, of late, and they were not willing to lose anymore. It showed in their faces, in the darkness that pressed itself under their eyes and the way that their fingers ticked, shifting and waiting for the bullet to burst out of the gun that they did not carry. Yet, even in their suffering state they still seemed to have pity enough for the Capulets, whose leaders were not to be found and whose boss lay in his bed, wasting away. 

But, who felt pity for the beaten birds with broken wings, wasting away in their cages? No one. 

Save for the Americans, the three who kept to themselves, but for the moments when they placed their money on this item or that. Typically, the more enviable ones. The new concoction that the witches had liberated from the Spades – the drugs that had been the ones to start the mess of this all. A shipment of M16A4s that had been taken from the American army itself. Bulletproof suits that would save more than one soul after the night was over. They mingled with the Veronans selectively, their conversation warm, but their eyes cold. Looking down their noses at these simpleton affairs of mobsters whose beliefs were antiquated, whose systems were outdated. Time was passing them by, yet they remained oblivious to it. It was something that the Americans found distasteful – and it was apparent by the way that they carried themselves, with a facade of amicability and gratitude. However, distaste could be easily swallowed when liberal amounts of money were thrown into the game. 

The money was there, evident in the fine silver cages that held the antagonists in their place. It was there, in the weaponry that glittered so temptingly for all to wield about. It was there, under the thumb of the three witches that ruled the town as gods of justice once ruled Rome. “You would think that they would have seen the money that could be gained from the dark web,” the one American muttered to the other. “The money that could be made off of the tourists…” said one. “Easy pickings,” sighed the other. They saw the glamour that the witches put on – and the purpose of the show – yet what would it come to but another century of warring between two families that should have killed themselves off long ago? “What a waste.” The three Americans sighed in unison, their gazes casting themselves in different directions, only to meet upon the prettiest bird of them all: Faron Vasiliev. 

His reputation of misdeeds and antagonism had preceded him with the Americans, who were now glad that justice had caught up to him. If one were to look, they would see the slight smirk that ghosted across Faron’s face as he looked down on them all. The satisfaction in the men’s featured seemed to be shared, seemed to be similar. As if there was a joke that only those four men knew, but would never really be privy to. But the satisfaction was also there for another reason, for ones that would not be revealed until –

A runner, a street urchin turned soldier, burst into the room, cheeks red from her running, eyes tearing up slightly. Before she could step much further, Theodora had their hand on the small girl’s shoulder, eyes narrowed as they crouched to talk to her. There were a few moments of murmuring between the two, the Capulet’s head canting to the side thoughtfully as they tucked their bottom lip carefully between their teeth. Catherine quickly came to their side, the few words that Theodora said to them clearly having an affect on the other. It seemed as if the Daly woman’s breath caught, the blood suddenly missing from her cheeks. Her fingers pressed to her lips, and it was because of this that Cinead slowly stood from their throne. Mallory’s eyes grew wide, their pupils dilating as they, too, followed – Hea, not even bothering to rise. Instead, the one witch remained where they sat, sinking into their seat even further, one hand on Mallory’s and the other grasping the arm of their throne. 

A soft humming came from above, Calina’s lips peeling into a rather disconcerting smile as one of the broken, damned birds suddenly decided to sing. 

Catherine ran to Juliana and – in a few words – had her collapsed in a sobbing heap. Catherine looked from Juliana to Tiberius uncertainly, Tiberius whispering a few words to Priam, who stood close at hand. The young Capulet woman seemed as if she were trying to collect herself from the mess she had become, but to little avail. Her fist was pressed to her lips, heaving cries shaking her chest. In contrast, Tiberius glanced about the room, eyes meeting every Capulets in a silent call to rally around him. And they did, one following the other. Catherine met his eyes – her lip trembling for a half a second before she nodded at him – and grabbed Juliana by the arm, half-dragging, half-carrying her out of the room. But, before she could, she was stopped by the quiet laughter that echoed in the room, acting like a ripple as the crowd began to still, began to listen to it in silence. 

“Care to tell us what you find so amusing, Faron?” Cinead asked, their voice half-tainted by the tremor. 

A bark of laughter escaped Grace. The goading in it was answer enough for Faron.

“Well?” Mallory asked, their soft voice carrying in the pin-drop silence of the room. 

“Well is something Cosimo Capulet will never be.” The Spade boss answered, after a time. “Because he is quite dead.” 

• At that Theodora grabbed Juliana by the arm as an inhuman wail escaped the girl, who was half-fighting against the underboss (for how long?) because she was loathe to be dragged away from her cousin. But it was in vain as Theodora shoved their way through the crowd, only to be almost killed by a falling cage. Out of it rolled Faron himself, who brushed himself off as if it were nothing, taking the time to mime a gun at both woman. He fired two shots at the woman, only to have Theodora shove Juliana aside to land vengeful blows on the weakened Vasiliev. 
• The next cage came careening down and from it came Calina, her steps slightly shaky as she picked herself up. Alexander came barreling at her, but before he could, Orion stepped in his way. The bullet flew before Alexander could reconsider, hitting Orion in the stomach. Down he went, only to have Hector fly to his side as Calina made her escape. 
• But, before she could make her way to Faron, Priam had her in his grasp. Who could count how many blows he landed on her before Lillian tore him away. Taking Calina’s hand in hers, the two woman ran to Faron, pulling Theodora off of him. 
• The cages kept on dropping – Alva and Grace the last to fall. Grace saw Hector run to Orion’s side, grabbed a butterfly knife, then threw it into the Montague’s side. He barely made it to Orion and she was already have to wreak havoc on those she considered blood. Before she could grab another, Kai had grasped her hand and the two began to exchange blows, one as thirsty for blood as the other. 
• Alva only wanted to escape with their fellow Spades, but before they could go to help Faron, they were stopped by Valentina standing in the doorway. They began to back away, but the Montague captain lunged at them, throwing punch after punch. Alva was about to throw up their hands to fend off the brutal blows, but Faron was at their side, grabbing the woman by the hair and knocking her out cold. 
• Castora was about to come to Valentina’s aid, when Calina confronted her, having been reassured that Faron and Alva were fine – as ready for blood as an animal that has been cornered. Ramona spotted her friend and cousin in trouble and quickly made her way to Castora’s side. It was an unfair fight, two against one, when Pavel decided to throw his dice into the fray. Grabbing Castora’s attention, he began to toy with her as Calina fought tooth and nail against Ramona, although it quickly turned vicious. 
• As Alva and Faron turned, they found their path blocked by Lucrecia, her pistol aimed steadily at the Spades boss. Alva quickly moved in front of Faron, and Lucrecia adjusted her aim - but the sound of a gun cocking right next to her ear had her dropping her weapon. Pavel had broken away from his fray. Faron saluted him, and Pavel spat at him in response - he’d kill him in an instant if it was worth the trouble. Priam, spotting Lucrecia, storms over and wrestles the gun from Pavel’s hand - the two have at it.
• Odessa had been about to run to Alexander’s side when she was stopped by Lillian, who wished to stop the woman from getting caught in the gunfire more than anything. But Odessa certainly did not see it that way. She came after Lillian ready to draw blood – and Lillian only sought to defend herself as well as strike the woman down to stop her from fighting anymore. Nikolai watched and waited to see which way this fight would go. When Lillian seemed to be gaining the upper hand, he wanted to tip the scales. 
• But Tiberius was not about to let him do that. It only took but a couple of minutes before Tiberius had Nikolai at his feet, then made his way over to Faron. But, just as he did, he saw Roman with the same intention in mind: to remove this man before he could create anymore problems. However, one wanted to rid the world of the evil while the other wanted blood for blood. Tiberius was not about to let Roman take the only bit of honor the Capulets were likely to have left. 
• Tiberius had been about to put a bullet Roman’s head when Bellamy stopped him, the two fighting with Tiberius clearly having the upper hand. It was not until Regina pulled Tiberius back that he stopped beating the Montague boy senseless, but she had not done so without putting herself in danger. She had been able to remain out of the sight of her sister until now. 
• Grace had left Kai bleeding upon the floor and now had her knife at the ready to draw family blood. Just as the knife left her hand, Catherine stepped in the way to defend her Regina – catching the knife in her shoulder. Just as Catherine cried out, Regina flew to engage her sister. Cain had killed Abel, so couldn’t Regina kill Grace? 
• But before that question could be answered, the witches had moved to the doors, impeding anyone from leaving. Their sentries had long ran away from the fray and Faron had just made his way to the door. Faron stood, looking Hea in the eye, Calina looked Cinead in the eye, teeth bared as she had just bested the Montague woman. The frays were slowly dying down, each Spade making their way to stand behind their boss as they waited for the witches to move. Hea whipped out a gun, pointing the barrel at his head –

                                                          BANG. BANG. BANG.

Ding dong – the witches are…dead? Cinead clutched their middle, Hea clutched their hand, Mallory cried out as they clung to their side. The “Americans” shoved through the crowd, stepped over the grimacing witches, then opened the doors, holding them open for the Spades. No one moved, too stunned by their gods having been cast to the ground, to do much else except watch in shock and fury as the Spades walked out of the room, worse for wear yet having all the cards in their hand. Calina was the last to leave the room, her eyes casting about with dark satisfaction as she cleared her hoarse throat. When her gaze landed on Juliana, she spoke – partially to the broken woman, partially to the whole entire room. 

“The Spades have ceased the Capulet assets. We control your goods, your funds, and what remains of your mob. You will be cast out within three days’ time – and you can either take up with the Montagues or do as you see fit. Either way, since we now have your assets, as well as our own, we more or less control the city. We, more or less, control you all.” To punctuate her sentence, she glanced down at the bleeding bodies of the witches, whose hearts beat less with each minute that passed. She closed the doors behind her, leaving them as spectacles. 

She had been a caged bird, but these were ones that had been broken and knew not how to recover. To cage them would be senseless – cages were meant for the living, not the dead. 

And, when the door closed, it seemed as if a spell had been broken. The Capulets and the Montagues picked up their beaten and their battered, calling for the aid of medics who had just arrived. Tiberius and Roman sat on the steps of the thrones that had been once occupied by those whom they had considered invincible. As everyone milled about like soldiers, half-dead after a battle, they looked at one another – a silent exchange as they sat in the wreckage of their common enemy. The blood of the Montagues and the blood of the Capulets mingled upon the hallowed floor of the Hotel Emelia, the ichor of the gods mixed in there with them. Both their hands were stained with it since the two men had done what they could to keep the witches from bleeding out more. 

Its fate was sealed as Tiberius Capulet and Roman Montague shook bloodied hands upon the steps of a throne that would know its final war. 

OVERVIEW: Cosimo Capulet is dead. The Capulets and Montagues have called a momentary peace and alliance as the Spades have taken over Verona. The Capulets are removed from their place of honor in Verona, their home is taken from them by the Spades – both literally and figuratively. The Spades are able to implement their authority through the police force, who they have in their pocket since they have their revenue as well as the Capulet’s – who have made much more what with their deals with the Koreans, thanks to Juliana Capulet. The Spades, reigning supreme, have the people of Verona under their thumb due to the fact that the witches are incapacitated as well. Both Cosimo Capulet and Damian Montague are dead. The crowns that the mobsters once wore are broken and their kingdom is being run by a tryant. The people of Verona have forsaken the Capulets and Montagues because of this and the two mobs are shunned. Anyone affiliated with them is now treated as a common person, or less than that. Italians do not look kindly upon the fallen. Things are getting shaken, Verona, you walk on unsteady ground. Take care. 

OOC: As always, feel free to play these interactions out on the dash. You may now date your interactions between the dates of APRIL 30TH and MAY 20TH. Keep in mind your character’s injuries and recovery time. The Montague and Capulet alliance is not likely to begin smoothly and we expect character interactions to follow as such. The Spades will likely hunt them down – if not to kill them, then to goad them into a fight. Things are going to be tense, bloody, and painful for the next couple of weeks in Verona. How will your character react to these new changes? Who else is going to die before the city pieces itself together once more? Again, tag your interactions within this event as event:reckoning. If you have any questions, feel free to drop an ask in the main’s inbox!