setbacks of power [elijah]

[ORIANA CAVALLONE]

[atrb=style,margin-top: 10px; border-radius: 30px; -moz-border-radius: 30px; -webkit-border-radius: 30px; padding: 30px,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,bTable][atrb=cellspacing,0,bTable][atrb=align,center,bTable][atrb=width,450,bTable][atrb=valign,top][atrb=width,100] TAGGED, elijah crescenti NOTES, so for clarification's sake, this takes place in one of cavallone's bases in italy, and oriana was seething over the phone up until she hung up halfway through the post. 8'D CREDITS, this template has been coded by crux strictly for personal use.

[atrb=style,padding-left: 20px][atrb=valign,top] canta per me addio TO BE CARRYING A CROSS FROM HEREAFTER Slender fingers tightened their grasp, willing enough in their anger to shatter and maim. It was only through a combination of bristling self-restraint and contrived composure that they followed through with neither intent, instead shifting restlessly as they cradled the phone that was, in part, the source of their ire. "Tell them that Cavallone is not a hammer for them to smite their enemies," she murmured into the receiver, measured but vicious all the same. "We never agreed to anything like that. I don't know what they're thinking, but it's clear that our interests aren't part of their equation. We have no place for an alliance that will only ruin us and stir up unnecessary conflict." In a spectacularly haphazard manner, she unceremoniously flopped onto a couch, letting her head loll back onto the exquisite cushions, still cradling the phone unenthusiastically against her ear. For the umpteenth time, Oriana was reminded of just how lavishly furnished this particular Cavallone base was, but she could not, for the life of her, bring herself to appreciate it. The recent news had left too bitter a taste on her tongue. "Alright, Boss." She heard the click of the dial tone, and then the subordinate's voice trailed off into nothing. Rolling over, she frowned at her cellphone and cast it aside, listening to the telltale clatter as it landed loudly on the coffee table. The majority of members within the Cavallone Famiglia were well-aware that their latest boss was compassionate to a fault, but they were also well-aware of just how vicious her temper was when provoked. The boss in question exhaled a quiet breath, feeling mildly repentant at the alarming tone she had taken with her subordinate over the phone; after all, it wasn't his fault that he had been the one to deliver the news. In short, another Famiglia—one with a moderate following, large enough to deal some damage if they concentrated their forces—had proposed an alliance. Her subordinates had only recently discovered that the offer was one-sided at best, with the other Famiglia aiming to manipulate the Cavallone into taking out its enemies if negotiations went through as they planned. The prospect of her Family being used and endangered in such a way made her grit her teeth. She supposed it couldn't be helped; there were always those who would seek to use the Cavallone. Under her father's reign, during the recent blood feud, the Family had stricken down an enemy alliance consisting of multiple Famiglias. Such a drawn-out dispute was no secret in the Mafia world. That latest assertion of power had drawn Cavallone into the consideration of many Families, and while she knew that it was in many respects a good thing, Oriana could not help but feel uneasy nonetheless. It wasn't until she heard a knock at the door that she finally snapped out of her thoughts. Sitting up abruptly, she halfheartedly smoothed out the folds of her collared shirt and straightened her tie before reflexively calling out "Come in!" as she always did whenever anyone in the Family wished to speak to her.

[ELIJAH CRESENTI]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; padding: 5px, bTable][style=background-color: #E28000; height: 70px;] [/style][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #fff; font-size: 25px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px; background-color: #E28000; height: 30px;]NEVER FADE INSIDE MY HEART[/style][style=background-color: #E38A18; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 6px; height: 17px; color: #fff; text-align: center;]i'm gonna do whatever it takes[/style][style=background-color: #1F1F1F; padding: 10px;][style=background-color: #2E2E2E; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; padding: 5px; width: 115px; float: left; margin-right: 5px;][style=background-color: #393939; height: 100px; width: 100px; padding: 5px; margin: 3px;][/style][/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; padding: 10px; text-align: justify;]Elijah had gotten used to the plane rides. The distance from Japan to Italy was approximately 9900 kilometers; in the United States customary system, 6150 miles. The average flight time was almost 13 hours. Elijah supposed it was a better method of travel than ship. Typically, he spent his time mostly awake and talking to the flight stewardesses, because they were pretty, professional, and always seemed to be interested in his fake stories about his mama and papa in Venice, or his grandparents in Tokyo, or his aunt and uncle in Hokkaido — Or whatever the hell other lie he cared to tell that day. (It would have been easier to sleep, but a certain degree of paranoia had instilled itself into him from an early age. At first it was the sort of thing that he would have surely grown out of; he would have his father check for the Bogeyman every night, and he was afraid of peeking behind the shower curtains if he wasn't holding his mother's hand because he was certain there would be an creepy living puppet lurking behind it like in the horror movie he had watched at a birthday party once when he was five years old. Then they had died and then he was the one checking for monsters at every corner — real monsters, like beautiful women who strapped pistols to their thighs; real monsters, like men in pressed suits who could order the deaths of the innocent and the damned however they pleased; real monsters, like desperate waifs who had no choice but to obey orders or die; real monsters, like the boy who stared out at him from mirrors with dead eyes and empty expression and his face, his face, his face. Real monsters, like people.) Nevertheless he was remarkably cheerful as he walked down the long echoing hallways of his famiglia's little "secret base" and knocked on Oriana Cavallone's door. "Come in," she called, as if he or anyone else would have expected any other answer. He walked in. He was always glad to see Oriana. She represented the Cavallone, of course, and all that they stood for, and all that he worked for — but more than that she was just Oriana, just a friend, just maybe-a-little-bit-kind-of an older sister figure, someone he could turn to in a desperate hour. Someone he could rely on. Someone he had relied on, even, but their meetings were few and far between on account of the fact that he was living in Japan for his studies, and she was typically occupied in Italy with the — family business. Elijah smiled and did not bother to wish her a good afternoon. "It's unusual to hear you get angry," he commented lightly, somewhat dwarfed in body and voice by the luxuriously-spaced and well-furnished room. He had difficulty remembering how to speak in Italian, but as with all native languages it was impossible to truly forget. "There shouldn't be anything to worry about, though. If no agreement was made, you have no obligation to continue negotiations, right?" "It's like having a phone call with someone you don't like. All you have to do is hang up on them." [/style][style=background-color: #2E2E2E; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; padding: 5px;][style=background-color: #393939; padding: 5px; margin: 3px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; text-align: justify;]WORDS 530 TAGS oribanana oriana cavallone NOTES derp derp hopefully this isn't hard to reply to[/style][/style][/style][style=background-color: #E38A18; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 6px; height: 17px; color: #fff; text-align: center;]high hopes for the future for heaven's sake[/style][style=background-color: #E28000; height: 60px;] [/style]

[style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY JOHN OF OTE[/style]

[ORIANA CAVALLONE]

[atrb=style,margin-top: 10px; border-radius: 30px; -moz-border-radius: 30px; -webkit-border-radius: 30px; padding: 30px,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,bTable][atrb=cellspacing,0,bTable][atrb=align,center,bTable][atrb=width,450,bTable][atrb=valign,top][atrb=width,100] TAGGED, elijah crescenti NOTES, naah, your post was fine! /thumbs up CREDITS, this template has been coded by crux strictly for personal use.

[atrb=style,padding-left: 20px][atrb=valign,top] canta per me addio TO BE CARRYING A CROSS FROM HEREAFTER Oriana nursed her simmering anger in silence as she waited for the door to open, eyes blank and lips set in an uncharacteristically stern line. When it finally did and she saw who entered the room, to say that she relaxed was quite the understatement—rather, her anger came undone altogether, neutralized by genuine elation as her gaze fell upon Elijah's diminutive form. It had been quite some time since she had laid eyes on her Rain Guardian and seen him in the flesh. No amount of telephone calls could ever replicate a face-to-face meeting. The feeling just wasn't the same. "Eliberry!" she practically sang, a wide grin curving at the contours of her lips, wiping her previous frown clean off her face. "It's been so long—how've you been?" She practically leaped up from the couch and moved forward to embrace him, arms curling around his smaller figure in a warm hug. Her eyes fell half-lidded as she rested her chin on the crown of his head and inhaled the familiar scent. Elijah was practically a brother to her, more so than many others within the Family. While his stay in Japan was utterly understandable, given that he occasionally acted as her eyes and ears in Japan and had studies to attend to, she had missed him a lot in his absence. "Ah, yeah, I don't normally get angry like that—the news took me a little by surprise is all," she muttered sheepishly, scratching her head. "No formal agreement was made, but I came just this close. If Adalberto hadn't realized and gotten Alonzo to inform me of the other Famiglia's true intentions, who knows how badly things would have ended..." Her words trailed off into a soft sigh, riddled with self-deprecation and mortification. It was the first time in a while that she had slipped up so badly and almost agreed to an alliance that would jeopardize her Family. The very thought stung. The relief of having realized just in time only mildly softened the blow, for such mistakes reflected poorly on her as Boss. While the Family as a whole had hailed her as the Twelfth, she was aware that not everyone was pleased with her ascension to the rank of Boss. Too young, they always murmured, whenever they weren't commenting on the point she was female, or the point that she was inexperienced. They forget, she mused bitterly, that Nonno was even younger than I was when he rose to become Decimo. She should have been immune to such criticisms by now, but it seemed that no matter how much she resembled her grandfather, Dino Cavallone, the rest of the Famiglia would not think of her as fondly as it did him. Not yet, at least. She had yet to bring the Family back to its former splendor. But that would change one day. Oriana swore it. "But as easy as it is to hang up on someone you don't like," she said gently, continuing with their current vein of conversation, "with people like them, it isn't always so simple. We have to tread carefully. They'll be wary now that I've sent men to inform them that we don't agree to their terms for an alliance. Even if they're manipulative bastards—" and she said this almost sullenly, for Elijah was the only other person in the room and she had always trusted him, trusted that he would not judge her if she did not always don the mask of the composed, mature Boss, "—we can't afford to provoke anyone during this time, not while we're recovering from what happened a while ago. Too risky." Oriana fell silent for the briefest of moments as a wave of memories assailed her, for the recent feud had left a massive mark on the remnants of the Family. The amount of spilled blood still haunted her to this day. She had avoided blatantly using the phrase "blood feud," had skirted around it even, hoping to prevent Elijah from relieving memories as well. A small voice in her head informed her, rather solemnly, that she had likely failed. The feud, after all, had stolen both of his parents from him. This called for a change in topic. "But how has Japan been? Anything interesting happen?" The blonde-haired female shifted so she could peer at Elijah's face, grinning softly as she did so. "Are your studies going well? Is there a holiday in Japan or something? You normally don't visit." Of course, the last statement was riddled with an undertone of you should totally visit more, which she left for Elijah to heed or ignore at his own whim.