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KHR Rarepair Hanami - Birdsong
Everyone always wants to impress the Vongola. At least, these days, people want to impress the Vongola. It didn't always used to be that way. Out of a great many people, Daniela knows that the most with what she has had to carry her Famiglia through. Once upon a time, she had to do a whole lot of things to keep not only her Famiglia safe, but her whole neighborhood, her dignity, her resolve. There are more scars upon her body than most would think belong on a woman, and she knows for a fact that they're the result of people who gave pretty lip service and little else.
Things these days aren't quite the same now. Most of the people who had proper grudges against her long died in the dirt, whether because of their actions against her or how they failed to truly be on the right side of history. Their descendants? They remember no grudge worth holding in comparison to a nice relationship with the Vongola. They respect her. They respect her power.
Even if they don't respect her ideals.
And so, these days, they want to impress her. A lot of worthless things in her opinion. Trade deals, nice jewelry, handsome young men to keep her company in her old age. The first is unnecessary. Second shows they don't know her at all. The third? Well. Inspired, at t he very least, and she's not afraid to say that.
But her tastes have only gotten more particular as she's gotten older, honestly. She won't accept just any pretty thing to keep her company, with her husband now dead and gone. All of them are just as shallow as the jewelry some try to pawn off on her. The only time she gets anything remotely interesting is when they bother with the more... civilized bribes and gifts. For example, the playing of a fine pianist, or so it's told.
She's not thinking much about it at first, besides the usual directions given to her people. A look over the venue, all the latest news about the don giving the gift, various little things to refresh her memory. In her position, she's never allowed to know too little. She always has to be on top of everything, never show a bit of weakness, make them remember that she knows everything (even if she doesn't quite). It's only when all of the business has been taken care of that she dare to let herself relax. To inquire, idly, about the exact name of the pianist.
Lavina. Half foreign-born and quite young. Already making a name for herself. Making such a name, as a matter of fact, that she has records out.
Records will never be able to stand up to the real thing, heard in person. Of this, Daniella cannot help but feel certain, even if she is rather afraid that it makes her dreadfully old fashioned. Technology had already made some terrifying gains through the war, and it has only picked up speed. Still, she can't quite change her feelings, even if she still takes advantage of it all to her worth.
For example, getting a record of Lavinia's performances and putting it on one night as she readies herself for bed.
She's not a very fancy sort of woman, really, in the end. As a young woman, the best she could often do was have a nice ribbon for her ponytail, and take tender care of the tattoos she put upon her own face so that other people might respect a woman in a man's job a little better. The war, and then trying to hold her position... No, she likes to think she's been rather matter of fact about it. And yet, as she listens to Lavinia's delicate piano keys, plucking out a tale through keys, she gets lost in the music. It's only when the record comes to an end that she realizes she's been brushing her hair - faded and old and not as nice as it could have been - for ages and ages.
"Yes, I've heard just a little bit of her music before," she says on the day that she finally makes the show. She doesn't smile, because there have been few things in her life to smile about, but she doesn't wear as severe an expression as she otherwise might. That's the most she will give her professional contacts in this dark underworld... and perhaps as well, she doesn't want to show too much favoritism.
Which certainly they would read, if she were just a little too eager to settle down into her seat, having looked forward to this performance for nights and nights.
If she closes her eyes, she thinks she's able to get away with it, there in the dim lights of the theatre, where no one is looking towards one old woman who is living far past her prime. Especially if she leans back, her hands clutched over one folded knee. To hear those delicate notes played, flittering through the air as pretty as any sort of little songbird...
She was right. It is far better to sit there in person, and hear the notes dance across the walls all the way into her ears.
Afterward, the other don wants to talk with her, inquire about dinner - but there was never any agreement made on that. Still, Daniella can approve of his musical taste. And the background checks on him and his family check out well enough. So she makes an excuse for her being done with dinner, and sends him away with one of her men. Makes a non-explicit promise in how she'll mention him to her son. Only when she's properly sent him away does she find the time to bring her other man over, and takes the bouquet from him.
With the right words to the right person at the right time, it is in fact very easy to make her way into the backstage of the theatre. There are no more performances today - not by Lavina, at least. It's almost a shame to interrupt her respite after all the effort she had put into that performance... but Daniella cannot help but knock upon her dressing room door regardless.
"I'm coming- I apologize, give me but a moment." And how could Daniella refuse her? Besides, she has plenty of spare time nowadays, as she hands the keys of the kingdom down to her son and looks forward to some form of retirement. So even though it's not a common thing for her to wait anymore, she does so with the kind of contentment that only comes to people who've managed to live for as long as she is in the place she's lived in. "I hope I did not keep you waiting, sir-" Yet as the door swings open, the words appear to die in Lavina's throat, and she pauses to look upon the woman standing before her.
This isn't the first time that Daniella's appearance has surprised someone and it won't be the last either, whether the other party knows who she is or not. It's not often than an old woman wearing a suit fine as any man just shows up out of the blue. The war pulled in a lot of changes, yes, a lot of changes indeed... but change isn't always taken to with perfect and smooth grace.
Also the bright crimson suit she tends to favor even in her old age probably isn't helping impressions too much.
Lavina's gaze flits away, not to the rest of her room exactly but more rather as though she can discern the sound of anyone else approaching or perhaps even speaking down the hallway. "Signora, thank you so very much for the bouquet," she says, all sincerity as she welcomes the flowers into her arms. "Yet I am afraid that I could not tell you if I have time right here in this room. I am afraid that I will be asked to leave, soon, so that the next person may have use of it."
Things these days aren't quite the same now. Most of the people who had proper grudges against her long died in the dirt, whether because of their actions against her or how they failed to truly be on the right side of history. Their descendants? They remember no grudge worth holding in comparison to a nice relationship with the Vongola. They respect her. They respect her power.
Even if they don't respect her ideals.
And so, these days, they want to impress her. A lot of worthless things in her opinion. Trade deals, nice jewelry, handsome young men to keep her company in her old age. The first is unnecessary. Second shows they don't know her at all. The third? Well. Inspired, at t he very least, and she's not afraid to say that.
But her tastes have only gotten more particular as she's gotten older, honestly. She won't accept just any pretty thing to keep her company, with her husband now dead and gone. All of them are just as shallow as the jewelry some try to pawn off on her. The only time she gets anything remotely interesting is when they bother with the more... civilized bribes and gifts. For example, the playing of a fine pianist, or so it's told.
She's not thinking much about it at first, besides the usual directions given to her people. A look over the venue, all the latest news about the don giving the gift, various little things to refresh her memory. In her position, she's never allowed to know too little. She always has to be on top of everything, never show a bit of weakness, make them remember that she knows everything (even if she doesn't quite). It's only when all of the business has been taken care of that she dare to let herself relax. To inquire, idly, about the exact name of the pianist.
Lavina. Half foreign-born and quite young. Already making a name for herself. Making such a name, as a matter of fact, that she has records out.
Records will never be able to stand up to the real thing, heard in person. Of this, Daniella cannot help but feel certain, even if she is rather afraid that it makes her dreadfully old fashioned. Technology had already made some terrifying gains through the war, and it has only picked up speed. Still, she can't quite change her feelings, even if she still takes advantage of it all to her worth.
For example, getting a record of Lavinia's performances and putting it on one night as she readies herself for bed.
She's not a very fancy sort of woman, really, in the end. As a young woman, the best she could often do was have a nice ribbon for her ponytail, and take tender care of the tattoos she put upon her own face so that other people might respect a woman in a man's job a little better. The war, and then trying to hold her position... No, she likes to think she's been rather matter of fact about it. And yet, as she listens to Lavinia's delicate piano keys, plucking out a tale through keys, she gets lost in the music. It's only when the record comes to an end that she realizes she's been brushing her hair - faded and old and not as nice as it could have been - for ages and ages.
"Yes, I've heard just a little bit of her music before," she says on the day that she finally makes the show. She doesn't smile, because there have been few things in her life to smile about, but she doesn't wear as severe an expression as she otherwise might. That's the most she will give her professional contacts in this dark underworld... and perhaps as well, she doesn't want to show too much favoritism.
Which certainly they would read, if she were just a little too eager to settle down into her seat, having looked forward to this performance for nights and nights.
If she closes her eyes, she thinks she's able to get away with it, there in the dim lights of the theatre, where no one is looking towards one old woman who is living far past her prime. Especially if she leans back, her hands clutched over one folded knee. To hear those delicate notes played, flittering through the air as pretty as any sort of little songbird...
She was right. It is far better to sit there in person, and hear the notes dance across the walls all the way into her ears.
Afterward, the other don wants to talk with her, inquire about dinner - but there was never any agreement made on that. Still, Daniella can approve of his musical taste. And the background checks on him and his family check out well enough. So she makes an excuse for her being done with dinner, and sends him away with one of her men. Makes a non-explicit promise in how she'll mention him to her son. Only when she's properly sent him away does she find the time to bring her other man over, and takes the bouquet from him.
With the right words to the right person at the right time, it is in fact very easy to make her way into the backstage of the theatre. There are no more performances today - not by Lavina, at least. It's almost a shame to interrupt her respite after all the effort she had put into that performance... but Daniella cannot help but knock upon her dressing room door regardless.
"I'm coming- I apologize, give me but a moment." And how could Daniella refuse her? Besides, she has plenty of spare time nowadays, as she hands the keys of the kingdom down to her son and looks forward to some form of retirement. So even though it's not a common thing for her to wait anymore, she does so with the kind of contentment that only comes to people who've managed to live for as long as she is in the place she's lived in. "I hope I did not keep you waiting, sir-" Yet as the door swings open, the words appear to die in Lavina's throat, and she pauses to look upon the woman standing before her.
This isn't the first time that Daniella's appearance has surprised someone and it won't be the last either, whether the other party knows who she is or not. It's not often than an old woman wearing a suit fine as any man just shows up out of the blue. The war pulled in a lot of changes, yes, a lot of changes indeed... but change isn't always taken to with perfect and smooth grace.
Also the bright crimson suit she tends to favor even in her old age probably isn't helping impressions too much.
Lavina's gaze flits away, not to the rest of her room exactly but more rather as though she can discern the sound of anyone else approaching or perhaps even speaking down the hallway. "Signora, thank you so very much for the bouquet," she says, all sincerity as she welcomes the flowers into her arms. "Yet I am afraid that I could not tell you if I have time right here in this room. I am afraid that I will be asked to leave, soon, so that the next person may have use of it."