Post by marsalla de costa on Feb 2, 2010 0:26:11 GMT -5
I'M ON THE RIGHT TRACK, YEAH I AM A WINNER[/font]
M A R S A L L A ●ANIELA● D E C O S T A
we're concentrated on falling apart.
we were contenders, not through in the fight.
i was just wanna believe, i just wanna believe,
i just wanna believe, in us
TWENTY SEVEN● "CUSTOMER SERVICE AGENT" ● MOB MEMBER
BIANCA BALTI
Marsalla de Costa never grew up wanting. As her eldest daughter, Giani de Costa was always giving her ‘Marsie’ fine clothing and toys, letting the toddler play with her expensive jewellery on the imported Italian sheepskin in front of the fireplace in the living room. Childhood was a spoilt existence, and Marsie learned to get what she wanted from day one; whether it was a bag coconut macaroons from the Italian candy store not far down the road, the expensive white gold bracelet inlaid with precious stones, or the designer silk shirt that must have cost a fortune. Money had always been an obsession, and because Marsie’s family never seemed to run out of it, she was entitled to pulling on her mother’s heartstrings in order to get what she wanted.
But what Marsalla was never able to get was her father’s full attention, and most importantly, his love. Marsie’s existence revolved around trying to find something he would be proud of; whether it was her latest outfit, her fluency in Italian, her undeniable beauty, or her inherited and self-taught street smarts. Nothing seemed to impress Federico de Costa, however, because the man was only interested in his eldest son, his prodigy and potential heir to the business. Always distant from the rest of the family, Marsie’s father would spend hours teaching Carlisle the skills he would need in order to manage the family business; ignoring his daughter’s pleas to be taught something as well, unwilling to stop protecting his sweet and beautiful daughter from the world she was so intent on breaking into. No matter what she did, Federico stayed firm on his opinion, intent on sheltering his daughter from the violent world he was involved in. He seemed to be immune to Marsie’s manipulative strategies.
Marsalla began to resent her father’s protection, jealous of the attention Carlisle managed to get from Federico, jealousy only growing over time. Eventually, Marsie was able to convince Carlisle to teach her everything she would need to know in order to succeed within gang life; intent to impress her father with her knowledge, an elaborate plan of vengeance for her brother put into motion. But on the day of her fourteenth birthday, the very day she planned to impress her father with her aptitude for his business, Federico de Costa was caught in a tragic car accident and killed—or so she was told.
Marsie’s heart was broken, her world shattered by the tragic event. She had never been able to prove herself to Federico, and was therefore never able to find her father’s acceptance. She was a ghost for two years after that, unable to believe that her father was truly dead and gone; drowning herself in her own sorrow, upset at her brother’s ability to stay stoic in times of tragedy. Carlisle took over the business without showing emotion at the loss, running it with the all the skills Federico had passed onto his eldest son; a sense of duty always surrounding him. Marsie’s jealousy turned to hate and she began to truly spite Carlisle, getting involved in things that she never should have.
Marsalla dropped out of school after she was finished sophomore year, deciding to use her father’s money to replace her sorrow. Marcie began to go mad from the variety of emotions she was going through, and at sixteen she bought a fake ID, easily passing for twenty one with her beauty and using it to her advantage—partying and drinking herself to the point of popping ecstasy pills every night. Shopping for party dresses became a way of life, as did waking up with a hangover in an older man’s bed on too many mornings in a row. Things began to get out of hand until Carlisle got involved, demanding his sister to stop the charades.
Marsie did stop her charades. She stopped for the promise of getting a job within the business if she cleaned up. Jealousy turned to love, as Marsie became eternally grateful to her brother for saving her from the state of mental instability. The drinking, the partying and the drugs stopped with the promise of such prospects, and before Marsie knew it, she was back on her feet; her wilfulness and stubbornness overcoming any problems she might have had, but her mind never let her forget was happened in her adolescence. The sleepless nights, the heavy drinking, the drug hazed sex; never would these become problems of the past, they would always stay problems of the present as well.
As a result, ‘sweet’ Marsie has developed an edge to protect herself from the everyday temptations; she has given herself a sort of toughness that translates to her being described as a bitch. Marsie no longer gets close to anyone, afraid that if she does, she will be sucked back into the party scene—this time beyond rescue. The only people she remains close to are her brothers, unwilling to allow Tena to understand her sorrows when she despises the business so much. The business has become Marsie’s newest obsession, and the young woman is keen to stay focused on relationships with clients in order to keep her job and most importantly, maintain her relationship with Carlisle. Her eldest brother has become the new Federico, and Marsie is even keener to impress and please him in her endeavours to keep the business supplied with a steady A-list of clientele.
CAMMIE ● EIGHTEEN ● PM
"Today was to be a very important day, and Marsalla de Costa was dressed to reflect its importance. Sitting in the private room—reserved only for those who could pay for it—at the prestigious Shanghai Lilly restaurant, Marsie waited for her client. The woman look stunning, dressed to impress in a black designer strapless dress tailored to accentuate her Italian curves with impressive ability, its hem trimmed just above mid-thigh; strategically showing just enough skin to be perfectly tantalizing without being trashy. Wearing her curled hair loose, a simple pearl necklace on her neck; Marsie was the picture of perfection, the innocent sister to the famous mobster, Carlisle de Luca.
What a shame that Marsie was far from the innocent image she tried hard to be portrayed as. The young Italian woman had a gun hidden on its holster attached to her thigh—a defence tool in case things went awry, as much as Carlisle hated to have to issue it to her—and she was quite capable of using it. Her beauty, another well-known weapon was among the sharpest and most deadly, and one flirtatious glance at a man from her steel-grey eyes was rumoured to make him immediately fall in love with her. People trusted Marsie, whether it was because of her over-powering confidence or her ability to manipulate them into the trustful state they found themselves in. That was one of the reasons Carlisle sent her to find more customers, or to keep clients happy: Marsie knew what she was doing when it came to convincing a person that things could only get better if they got involved in the ‘family,’ and for that reason, she was sure that she was indispensable to Carlisle.
That was the goal, at least, but so far, Marsie’s older brother was much more focused on teaching young Lorenzo the skills he would need in order to become Carlisle’s successor. It was just as it had been before Federico’s death—once again, the Drug Lord was teaching his male apprentice, and all females were out of the running for consideration. After the ten years Marsie had put into the business, how she had slaved away for her eldest brother, struggling to impress him as she had her father; Marsie did not even receive consideration to be the next boss. Before, it had not been so frustrating, but as Carlisle’s reputation became all the more extensive in the underworld, Marsie craved recognition and respect as well. Had she known that gang life was so sexist, Marsie would have become a nurse. Too bad that would involve working.
Marsie was interrupted from her thoughts as a sharp knock sounded on the door and the waiter led the client to the table, pulling the seat back for the gentleman, making sure that he was comfortable, and leaving the two in privacy, as instructed. “Ahh, Mr. Smyth.” It was time to get down to business.[/center][/size]
"
[/right] template © to FAE ! @ CAUTION v 2
[/ul]
