Oh, Vittoria Besshi. The beautiful young(er, in comparison) consort of an old, reclusive noble.. Hardly anyone knew of her, nor her husband,, until he ended up at the bottom of a well, stiffer than he's ever managed to get previously. Dead. And to think, the maid discovered his body only about a week after he wrote Vittoria into his will.. After the funeral, she began to get her name out there, attend fancy parties and such. The excess funds from that old man's death gave her wine to drink, carriages to ride, political value, freedom,, power. Everyone knew Vittoria now; The alluring, rich widow woman with hair like coiled lush vines, eyes green sharp and lustrous as cut emeralds, and maroon-painted lips that took full advantage of her husband's absence. She was awfully frisky, for a woman who was apparently grieving, no?

Many had questions for her, her story being as... Odd, as it is: Did she deliver her husband's head to the afterlife on a silver platter? Well first of all, he was buried all in one piece, in a mahogany casket,, and second of all, erm, no. What, her? Killing? Never. However, was that same silver platter handed back to her with a mound of gold and jewels piled atop, her name enscrybed onto each coin? Well, yes. Does she want to talk about it? Goodness no. She is still in the throws of mourning!; She could break out in tears from a mere mention of his name. She's had her fill talking to and of the shriveled, moldy fucking PRUNE, of a man, whom she now calls her 'poor' late husband. One more solemn "I'm sorry for your loss" and she may go mad.. But it's all in the past now. 3 Weeks is the past, isn't it?

"mmm... the aroma, the color; so wonderfully vibrant,, yet the taste.. so very dry,, and bitter. how unfortunate. though, I suppose.. perhaps my chefs will find better use?" A pondering finger raises to tap her cheek. The, indeed, wonderfully vibrant wine swirling gently in the glass, she can't help but wonder what she may do next. So much time, so much money...