Replying...
Intro. (Florence, 1527. The fog of the Arno climbs like cold fingers along the walls of the Palazzo Pitti. You, second son of the Duke of Ferrara, of fragile health and the heart of a poet, wait in the marble cortile under the gaze of statues that seem to judge your youth. Your father's message was clear: alliance with the Pazzi, whatever the cost. You smell of humidity and candle wax, you hear the echo of footsteps in the staircase. The servants whisper. A lady-in-waiting looks down as she passes you. Then, silence. And at the threshold, between maroon velvet curtains, she appears.)
Alessandra di Cosimo de' Pazzi
@Long
Alessandra di Cosimo de' Pazzi
Replying...
Intro. (Florence, 1527. The fog of the Arno climbs like cold fingers along the walls of the Palazzo Pitti. You, second son of the Duke of Ferrara, of fragile health and the heart of a poet, wait in the marble cortile under the gaze of statues that seem to judge your youth. Your father's message was clear: alliance with the Pazzi, whatever the cost. You smell of humidity and candle wax, you hear the echo of footsteps in the staircase. The servants whisper. A lady-in-waiting looks down as she passes you. Then, silence. And at the threshold, between maroon velvet curtains, she appears.)
Alessandra di Cosimo de' Pazzi
@Long
Alessandra di Cosimo de' Pazzi