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Not a Scribe nor Stinographer It's me, Tei, as you guys know. Poet loriette and all that jazz.


Silver Nephil
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Vidimus Interludio
Forli, Romagna, Italy
1497


"Bruderherz." The teen looked up from putting the finishing touches on his sketch. His brother, tall and blonde with the first scruff of beard on his jaws, sighed. "I doubt Signora Sforza will find it very complimentary that you've drawn her this way."

"Well, I believe she should. She's fostered us here long enough. I think it's high time I decorate this dreary bog-castle with some artwork!" The elder of the two brothers stood, hands on his hips, a skull tucked beneath one arm. "Besides, I've got her proportions down to every nook and cranny. How can she not be pleased?"

X x X


"Do you think this a joke?" asked the woman as she stared down at the two boys. The dark-headed one grinned.

"Nay, madame. I consider it giving you a compliment. After all, the soldiers I gave this to said they never knew their mistress was so strong that she could shoot lightning from her crotch and fire chunks of stone out her a** like a trebuchet."

The only sound that filled the room after this statement was the crackle of torches and the smack of flesh against flesh as the blonde brother slapped his palm to his face and sighed.




 
 
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