you & me could write a bad romance !

[le afrique]

[le afrique]

CELIAfrancescaMONTESSERO
the artsy girl


▶ ▶ a rose by any other name would smell as sweet


sometimes lia, but mostly just celia.



▶ ▶ the clock is still tick tick ticking


twenty



▶ ▶ it's still me no matter what time or place


loving, determined, artistic, over-caring



▶ ▶ the ink is always written in blood


palevioletred




le afrique



thank you pink panda paw, the awesomest awesome person in da whole wide wurld for the profile code.

[le afrique]

BENJAMINpierceGALLO
the rebel boy


▶ ▶ a rose by any other name would smell as sweet


ben or benny, but only to family and close friends



▶ ▶ the clock is still tick tick ticking


twenty one



▶ ▶ it's still me no matter what time or place


introverted, adventurous, laid-back, stubborn



▶ ▶ the ink is always written in blood


#c49978




x - - apple tini



thank you pink panda paw, the awesomest awesome person in da whole wide wurld for the profile code.

[le afrique]

reserved

[le afrique]

A voice cackled through a small black stereo in fast, rapid Italian. His voice was nearly completely drowned out in static, which explained why three grown men were anxiously leaning over the small device. Their fists were clenched and sitting a few inches away from the radio was a small pile of euros. Thirty or forty of them gleamed in the bright kitchen lights. The men leaned over the table, made up in their chef uniforms, pasta sauce was splattered over the white fabric. Celia Montessero sat alone at a separate table, straining to hear the the ice-breaking football game. Her legs were crossed and she wore a pale yellow sun dress that reached a little past her knees. Celia's hair fell in big brown curls past her shoulders and although her eyes were glued to the pages of a book, it was obvious she was very aware to what was going on around her.

Her foot taped gently against the floor and her eyes pulled away from the page as the results of the game were screamed excitedly over the radio. The three men slammed their hands against the table and Gabriele, Celia's brother, ripped his hat off his head. He turned around to look at his younger sister. "How do you do that?" he growled, glancing down at the pile of euros. Celia simply stood up, smiled, and weaved through the group of men, picking her money up off the metal table. "I told you, Madrid has nothing on Manchester," Celia replied with a a shrug. She counted her money carefully and reached up on her tip toes to grab a glass jar off of a tall wooden shelf. After she spoke the chefs erupted into a feud of whose fault it was that they each lost ten euros. Celia glided back over to the radio and unplugged it from the wall. "I blame you, Gabe. You told us she knew nothing of gambli--" Celia interrupted the young man on queue from her mother who was doing the dishes a few feet away from them all. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please. I'll be happy to settle this with you later, perhaps you'd like to discuss the up coming tournament in Milan--" Celia suggested half-jokingly. The young woman had a knack for football. She'd spent far too many afternoons out of her father's boat while he listened to the world cup or other important matches. It was near engraved into her brain.

Of course, this only caused more finger to be pointed at the Montessero siblings and their mother threw her hands up in defeat, grabbing a damp rag and hitting her son's friend with it. "That's enough! I will throw that radio into the harbor if this keeps up! And don't think I won't, Gabriele," an elderly Italian woman shouted at the feuding young adults. Celia bit her lip to keep from laughing and straightened up as her mother turned around to face her. "And you young lady... go easy on the boys, eh?" She cupped her daughter's chin in her hands and then went back to the dishes, leaving the boys giving Miss Montessero threatening glances behind her back. She gave them an angelic glance and walked over to the closet, grabbing a thin jacket and wrapping it around her small frame. "Where you think you're going?" one of the men asked with a smile. "I want my money back, Cece--" Gabriele interrupted before Celia could even manage to muster up a lie. "She's going to a party on the cliffs," Gabe laughed as he washed his hands. Celia stopped mid-step and shot Gabe a threatening glance. "Oh, there's a party on the cliffs tonight?" she asked. "As if you didn't know," Gabe said walking around to the stove. "As if you weren't planning on going yourself," Celia laughed and reached for the door handle. "But if you're not back by 1:00 a.m. sharp, I'm going to have dad come up there and kill any guy you're with--" Celia shoved her brother, a little more than playfully, of course it wasn't much of a shove. She had never been the one for fighting, physically, at least. "You will not. Quit acting like such a tough guy." She slammed the door shut before they could whine any longer.

As soon as she stepped outside, a gust of the cool night air hit her and she let out a sigh of relief. It was much too hot in that kitchen, particularly in the summer. The stars shone brightly in the sky, just as they usually did. It was a blessing that went along with the fact there were no nearby cities that could pollute the sky with their bright lights. She walked down the narrow stone steps carefully, some of them were damp as they were constantly being bathed in the sea water that splashed up against them. Celia hardly even noticed that she could fall into the water, since the stairs clung to an unforgiving cliff. No, she'd skipped down those steps much too many times to be worried by such seemingly silly matters. Instead she thought of the accordion player that was gracing the entire city with music. Probably Theo, a lonely man who only came out of his apartment to play for locals and tourists alike. She made her way through narrow alley ways and waved to faces of people she recognized as she walked past. It was a short walk to the vineyards from the restaurant, but the small alley ways and twists and turns made getting there much more complex if you weren't a local. It took Celia all of five minutes to navigate her way through the familiar nooks and crannies and before she knew it, she found herself in a picture-esque lemon orchard and wine vineyard, among everyone she'd gone to school with for the past eleven or twelve years. Since Vernazza was quite a small village, there were only about fifty or sixty people there, all of which were surrounding a bonfire and several kegs of limoncello and moonshine, which more or less tasted like rocket fuel.

Celia had sat an drank with her friends for about forty-five minutes before drifting away from the crowd alone, and heading back towards the cliff. She carefully climbed down a few feet to a wide ledge. It was a popular place for teens to relax and Celia was definitely not the only one there. On other ledges were young couples drinking, talking, among other things. Celia pressed her back against the smooth black rock and slid down, until she sat up against the boulder. Her brown eyes gazed down at her village. Lights illuminated the black water below and the pastels of the buildings, all of which were crammed together. Ah, Vernazza. It never ceased to take her breath away.


_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


here is celia's outfit. i hope this is okay! (:

[sour appletinis]

xx

Vernazza. As Benjamin stood up on the boat he boarded to travel to the desolate island, he felt himself being hit by a wave of nostalgia. It had been years since he last came to his hometown, and he never expected to return after the commotion that happened in his younger years. But he had time to kill over the summer, his grandfather who still lived in Vernazza was growing weaker with age, and his parents offered to pay for the trip. Why not come up and pay a visit to family he hasn't seen in years? After all, it's been years since the incident that nearly tore their family apart happened; things should have quieted down enough for there to be no problems. But Benjamin is known for holding grudges, regardless if everything has quieted down or not. Throwing his stuffed duffel bag over his shoulder with his rolling suitcase in hand, the boat approached the dock where Ben's extended family was waiting. He could see them gathered around, their hands shielding their eyes against the sun as they anxiously waited for his arrival: his grandfather, grandmother, uncle Vinnie, aunt Rose, uncle Lawrence, aunt Jennifer, and two of his cousins. As the boat grew nearer, the family began to wave, their faces glowing with their smiles. Benjamin smiled a little smirk and wiggled his fingers at them, just as the boat's motor died down in order to approach the dock slowly. Once it did, Ben grabbed all of his belongings and climbed off the boat. He walked down the dock, approaching his excited family as they flocked towards him, screaming in Italian. Over the years that Ben has lived in America, his Italian had dwindled to simple, everyday phrases such as "ciao" and "grazie". But thankfully his family knew and spoke English, except for his grandmother who would need to be translated by his grandfather.

Benjamin verbally greeted his family in return before setting all of his bags on the floor and embracing them in one large, group hug. They stood together for a good five minutes, telling each other how much they missed each other, before releasing and going through the whole, "My, look how much you've grown!" from both parties (with Ben associating to his cousins). Ben took his duffel bag in hand while his uncle Vinnie grabbed his suitcase, leading the family away from the dock and towards the town in loud conversation. Ben has his arm wrapped around his grandmother's shoulders with hers around his waist, nodding as she spoke to him in Italian. "She's telling you how happy she is to have you here," his grandfather translated. Benjamin nodded his head and smile at her. "I'm happy to be here too, Nonna." Home.


- - -


After Benjamin left his things in a spare room at his grandparent's house, he proceeded to help his family prepare dinner. It was getting late in the afternoon by the time Ben arrived, and the Gallos waited for him on empty stomachs in order to properly welcome him with food - lots and lots of food. The leftovers were packed and stored away in the fridge while the dishes were being washed by the women. Ben stood outside with a cigarette between his lips, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous view of the ocean from his grandparent's house that nestled against the hills. He could hear his family chatting and laughing from inside the house, the buzz of a television program playing as wonderful background noise. The stars reflected against the colliding waves of the ocean, the moon illuminating the village before him. After being away from the tiny town of Vernazza for so long, Ben could feel his legs growing restless underneath him with the yearning to move around the familiar but unfamiliar streets. He took a long drag of his cigarette before plucking it out of his mouth and putting it out between two wet fingers, flicking it aside. He blew the smoke out from his lungs before stepping foot into the house to see his family gathered in the kitchen. Most of them were seated at the kitchen table, the girls standing against the sink as they proceeded to clean up after their huge dinner. "I think I'm gonna go take a walk," Benjamin informed them as soon as he stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen area, leaning against its wooden frame. The family grew silent as they stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Ben, perplexed. "Where to?" his uncle asked him against the silence. They obviously weren't used to Ben's ways of doing things by himself. Ben shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Anywhere." There was a pause as they waited for him to explain further. When it was clear that he wasn't, his aunt cleared her throat as she continued to dry the white plate in her hands. They weren't used to his blunt yet mysterious answers for things, either. "Well, be careful out there," his uncle warned. "Will do." Benjamin waved to them as he retreated back into the living room and out the door.

As he walked down the streets with his hands in his pockets, Ben wondered to himself what he needed to be careful of. There was no way he was at risk of being raped or mugged or any of that. Ben may not be the strongest guy in the world, but he can definitely kick some a** if he needed to. Maybe he was warning him about getting lost, because as Ben made his way through the various turns the streets had to offer, he found himself almost forgetting how to get back. Thankfully he had a really good memory, or else he'd have to leave a trail of bread crumbs to lead him back home. As he strolled past a group of people that appeared to be around his age, he overheard their conversation about heading up to "the party on the cliffs." This interested Ben as his walk slowed to a stroll, peeking over his shoulder to see where they were going exactly. He usually wasn't one for parties or meeting people, but he was interested in seeing how the people of Vernazza partied. Swiftly, he made an about face and followed behind them slowly and casually, though he imagined it'd be simple to find this party on the only cliffs on the island. But as he followed behind the group, he realized that he was mistaken as they weaved through the labyrinth of the village just like a native would.

By the time they arrived to the party, the group he followed behind dispersed as they went and mingled with their other friends. Ben slowly made his way into the small crowd that surrounded a bonfire, his eyes focused entirely on the fire. He had always been in love with the elements of the world, particularly fire and water. The way they bend and move was almost like music to him. It was fascinating. But he was drawn from the fire as someone offered him a drink, which he hesitantly took before separating from the group. He took a seat on a nearby log alone, setting the bottle of liquor on the ground next to him. Ben wasn't much of an alcoholic, but he'll smoke cigarettes like nobody's business. And speaking of which.. reaching into his pocket, Ben pulled out another cigarette and his Zippo lighter, setting it between his lips and cupping his hand around the lighter to light it. Once the cigarette was lit, he inhaled and blew, taking the stick between his fingers as he leaned back and listened to the buzz of conversations with his eyes closed.

ooc - Sorry this took so long :[
And I liked your post. c: I hope mine gave you something to work with.. it was kinda bad :/