--DESTRUCTION AT ITS FINEST* [Carlisle]

[marsalla de costa]

i must confess ,

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i’m in love with my own sins ![/i][/b][/size][/font]

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It was funny, to be shown into the fancy living room by the servants working in one's own house. It would have been no different to be alive one hundred fifty years ago, the height of the Victorian era, with the exception of indoor plumbing, stiff corsets and big hair. Everything was proper here, everything perfectly polished and spotless; nothing out of place. The living room was classic, valuable Italian antiques showcased throughout the room; fresh flowers placed on the elderly wood, replaced weekly; the room airy and fresh with a large bay window overlooking the expansive property.

It was one of the few rooms in the house that retained the ancient furniture, the rest of the house replaced with modern taste, the height of today's fashion. Slowly but surely, the antiques in the room were disappearing as well, sent back to Italy or sold to be replaced with current tastes. Already, the particularly uncomfortable hundred-and-some year old love seat by the grandfather clock had disappeared; and a layer of creamy white paint had replaced the stuffy and dark maroon colour that had previously retained its authority in the room. Black and white photos replaced oil paintings; just to replace the empty feeling the room had begun to acquire as pieces of furniture vanished in the process of re-modelling.

The sparseness of the room provided Marsie with enough space to pace for an adequate length of time. Back and forth she would walk as she tried to work off the nerves and regain the confidence necessary to calmly confront her easily angered brother. In order to be successful, Marsie knew that she would need to repeat the clear and concise argument she had recited in her head for the past week. An hour ago, the young woman had known exactly what to say, but now, nerves had prevented her from reaching the speech stowed away in the far reaches of her mind.

"Carlisle, I would like you to consider my--no, no! That's not how it goes. It's more like this..."

No matter how many times Marsalla attempted to recite the speech, she was never satisfied with it. As she paced, she would mumble quietly aloud; eyes staring down at her expensive black heels boosting her already tall figure up three inches. If Carlisle were anyone else, Marsie believed that she would easily be able to sway the man to her own interests. The stunning black cowl-necked mini dress--belt accenting the young woman's small waist--was put on in the faint hope that her undeniable beauty would manage to achieve that goal; but Marsie knew that it was unlikely that her own brother could ever be convinced of anything solely due to his sister's appearance.

It was for that reason that Marsie was panicking. Her confidence had been completely disintegrated, and her nerves prevented her from finding the clear strategy to clearly persuading her brother to consider her eligibility for the position of running the business. Marsie could not stand to be meagre and relatively dispensable any longer--she needed power.

The sharp rap on the soundproof glass doors made Marsalla's heart jump into the air, and she turned around speedily, a look of shock and fear clear on her face and in her eyes. It was too late to find the speech once again. Marsie was alone with a stack of jumbled thoughts and a pounding heart. Reciting a long list of swears in her mind, Marsie took an effectively useless deep breath. "Hey, Carlisle. How's work going?" Marsie's voice shook slightly, voice taking on a casual and very childish tone in absence of the confidence she needed desperately.

Cursing herself once more, Marsie tried to remind herself to add a more elegant and eloquent tone, the voice of power she used for business matters. She would need to regain at least that if she planned to be successful in her endeavours.

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THIS THREAD IS finished.
AND IT’S FOR Carlisle.
AS FOR WORDS, WE HAVE 654.
THE LYRICS ARE FROM america’s suitehearts by fall out boy.
AND WE’RE WEARING outfit!
ANY LAST THOUGHTS? sorry this took so long to put up! the term is about to end and i've got a bunch of stuff to do. but i thought i might take a break in order to get a thread going. ;)
THANKS FOR THE HARD WORK template (c) - bethasaur ftw . of CAUTION 2.0

[carlisle lucas de costa]

* CARLISLE ( LUCAS ) DE COSTA ,





Carlisle wasn't expecting his sister when Rodrigo had appeared at the door declaring that they had a 'guest' in the living room. While Marsalla was not a guest, the maids and servants and such didn't always recognize her. Carlisle had just reclined in his favorite leather chair with his old leather ledger in his hand when Rodrigo appeared and announced the visitors arrival. He nodded and sighed and got up to make himself presentable. Luckily, Carlisle hadn't fully undressed out of his suit, so he buttoned up his starched white dress shirt and pulled on a tailored black jacket that flowed effortlessly with his pants. Then, he slipped a gun in the back of his slacks. This was the thing that made him so different from other businessmen. The chill of the metal against his back made his shiver slightly but he dealt with it as he exited his living quarters to make his way to the large, sparse living room.


I had no appointments today.. Carlisle thought as he approached the living room. Upon entering, he smiled broadly: it was no strange guest, it was his dear, beautiful baby sister Marsalla. She wore a very lovely black dress: one that showed off her long legs nicely. He smiled broadly as he approached her: personal visits were rather uncommon from Marsalla, though they saw eachother most every day. Today, however, they had no appointments or business deals to handle today, which was rather uncommon as well. Carlisle approached his sister warmly, his arms outstretched, as he spoke. "I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you." He strode across the empty space between them and placed his hands gently on her sculpted shoulders. "When are you going to settle down, hm?" He asked, a note of disapproval tainting his warm voice. When Federico died, Carlisle had taken on the role of father, his disapproval of her single-ness stemmed from this.

Carlisle smiled as he assessed his sister and he frowned a little. She looked nervous, her words shaky. His eyebrows knit together as he spoke again. "Giuseppe, leave us please. Lock the door behind you." The guard nodded curtly and left the room, locking the heavy mahogany door with a dull thunk. Carlisle pursed his lips as he motioned to the new black couch on the wall. It was hugely comfortable, the leather soft and tender and smooth to the touch. It was also incredibly expensive. Handmade, hand-tanned young cow leather that was tender as satin under his long, thin fingers.

A brotherly concern washed over Carlisle. What was wrong with Marsalla? Her beloved courage was no where in sight-- it meant something was wrong. Badly, badly, wrong. If she had been violated--- The very thought sent fury sweeping through Carlisle like molten lava. Carlisle pursed his lips and tried to make light of the tense situation. "You having any luck with the husband situation? I know of someone who'd suit you in a new york minute. You remember Marco Solo? He, uh, he met you that time you were wearing that red dress when we dealt with Jean Paul?" He asked, inflicting certain words with a suggestive tone. She should remember Solo. He was a tall, gangly nineteen year old kid who did bookwork with Michael. Solo had chanced upon Marsalla while she was closing a sensitive deal with a difficult client and she had chosen to wear a very lingerie-esque red dress."He has the biggest crush on you. I, I had to threaten him with a hanging to get his eyes off your ass the other day. But you know, he comes from a very good Italian family." Most of this said in jest, but the hanging part wasn't.

Carlisle was very, very protective of his sisters and would let them come to no harm. "Marsie...what's wrong?" He asked softly, using the pet name she reserved for family only.



tagged , who? MARSALLA ANIELA DE COSTA
words , howmany ? 700
lyrics , run this town - jay-z
credit , rora @ hos

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[marsalla de costa]

i must confess ,

[/i][/b][/size][/font]

i’m in love with my own sins ![/i][/b][/size][/font]

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"When are you going to settle down, hm?"

It was unlike Marsalla to blush, she was normally too sure of herself to feel embarrassment from a offhand comment. It was a sign that she was in no fit state to deliver the speech she had once known--it was an omen, warning her of the trouble she could find herself in if she dared to ask a simple question. A conflict of emotions warred in Marsie's mind, want versus doubt; and Marsie's mouth was dry from a feeling that closely resembled fear.

Carlisle obviously wanted Marsalla to settle down, he was always suggesting one partner or another for her. Although he would joke most of the time, there were always two common suggestions: a good Italian boy, and a mob member. Again, her brother was kidding about little Marco Solo, likely to put his baby sister at ease, but Marsie could only smile weakly in response, lost in thought for a moment before deciding to fake things out to put her brother at ease before she requested that he help her find the power that she craved.

Striding toward the black couch, Marsalla sat on the expensive feeling leather; angling her body to face Carlisle, and resisting the urge to curl up on it, as she had done when she was a child. "How does that not surprise me? Everyone stares at my ass, and besides, one can hardly blame him: my dress was on the verge of only being appropriate in the bedroom. Little Marco should count himself lucky that he saw me in practically indecent clothing, it will likely be the most he will see of a woman until he grows into his limbs and out of his boyish awkwardness. What a wonderful pair we would make: the gangly teenager and his indecent, much older wife." Marsie played her part, trying to keep her voice light and elegant, but feeling the weight in every word. She was always harsh when describing others, especially when she was joking--it was a sign of the bitterness that poisoned her beauty; no matter how much she strived for total perfection.

Carlisle seemed to be trying his hardest to lighten the mood, and it seemed to be working. Marsie was admittedly always eager to please, and she could not resist trying to make her brother laugh. The situation with Jean Paul had simply been another example of this eagerness to please, but Marsie believed she was destined for more than helping her brother with clients. Although the situation with the lingerie-like dress had been rather amusing--especially when Jean Paul had been like putty in Carlisle's hands after getting a glimpse of Marsie's cleavage--she knew that her street-smarts could be used for better purposes.

"But really, Carlisle. I break hearts, you should know that by now. I cannot marry a man whom I do not love, and presently, I am overloaded with work. I have no time for flirting and courtship, and I have no time for thoughts about the future. Marriage is none of my concern." Marsie's lofty tone did nothing to calm her nerves; and launching herself directly into a conversation about her eligibility for the next crime boss still seemed impossible. At least this would provide a somewhat smooth flow for which the conversation could shift to seemingly accidentally.

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THIS THREAD IS finished.
AND IT’S FOR Carlisle.
AS FOR WORDS, WE HAVE 559.
THE LYRICS ARE FROM america’s suitehearts by fall out boy.
AND WE’RE WEARING outfit!
ANY LAST THOUGHTS? <3
THANKS FOR THE HARD WORK template (c) - bethasaur ftw . of CAUTION 2.0

[carlisle lucas de costa]

* CARLISLE ( LUCAS ) DE COSTA ,





Carlisle smiled gently as she blushed-- he had that particular talent it seemed-- to make pretty women flush. But this wasn't just any pretty woman and he wasn't jesting to get her into bed with him. This was his beloved sister, the one who had been his companion until Lorenzo had been born. And then Michael was born and he had two children to care for.

Marsalla was playing her part well, playing off his lighthearted comments about Marco. "It was disrespectful anyways. Though, Mr. Paul has been exceptionally friendly to our organization ever since." Carlisle said offhandedly, using the word 'our' casually, not considering what it might mean to Marsalla. She was anxious, having not yet gotten to the point of her personal visit to Carlisle. It wasn't often that they actually sat down and talked, as their relationship had always been a little bit strained. What, with the affections that Marsie so desired being lavished upon Carlisle, their heir to the business, it was no wonder that the eldest girl of the de Costa's grew bitter. When Federico died in his "car wreck," Carlisle had inherited everything that Federico had and then taken on the 'father' role-- not only to his own young child but to Ortensia and Lorenzo as well. They had only been children as well.

But Marsie had rejected his care and when Carlisle learned of her lifestyle many years later, he felt as if he had failed his father. Carlisle had then set about 'adopting' Marsalla in a way, growing extremely protective and endeavoring to keep her under his vast wing of safety within the business. He tried his hardest to give her the warmth and affection that she had so lacked from Federico and tried to offer the same guidance a father would have offered. Carlisle chuckled about her comments on Solo. He was a gangly creature, but his parents were good Italians who had been good friends of the Family for many, many years. It wouldn't have disappointed anyone if Marsie had consented to marry Marco, except for Marsie herself. Even Carlisle wouldn't have a problem with it. He met his two criteria: Italian and a mob member. It would be trouble for Marsie to be involved with someone outside the Family.

"I break hearts, you know that." His baby sister, the player. Well, of course she did. All she had to do was smile to shatter a married man's heart. Others were shocked when they learned of her ties to Carlisle and any ideas of taking advantage of his were, or so Carlisle fancied, removed from their petty minds. She was the epitome of the Italian woman-- curvy, beautiful, fiery, courageous, with abundant glossy, black hair. She took after their mother with her slim yet seductively curvy frame, and, as Carlisle thought, their Aunt Gia with her spitfire personality.

"Besides, I could never marry someone I do not love." Carlisle nodded in agreement to this. He had experienced this very thing with Rita. He grinned to himself, Marsie was as romantic as him, he fancied, but hid it just as well. Carlisle had been in love once--just once. Rita, Michael's deceased mother had just been a teenage lover, a lust affair, was the better phrase. He had never really loved her. But Alex's mother! He couldn't even bear to think her name. Hr had loved her, he truly had. But she had abandoned him. "I was not suggesting you marry someone you don't love. Just get around to it before it's too late." Carlisle said with a smirk. She was too beautiful to remain single and childless. "When you find him though, run him by me so I can make sure he's worthy. Not that that'll happen but, then again, I'm pretty biased."

She then began to complain of work. Carlisle's eyebrows shot up. It was unlike Marsie to complain of her job. She loved to work for the business-- it had been her greatest wish. He had warned her of the pressures of being his only "customer service agent" (for lack of a better title). She had begged to be part of the family business. And her workload was what was keeping her from getting married? Seriously? Carlisle's face was surprised and even a little on edge. "Is this the problem, Marsie? So you need me to hire someone else to help alleviate your workload? You have too much work?" Carlisle was puzzled, and a little bit miffed. His face was set straight, his eyebrows furrowed. It was so unlike Marsie to complain-- she made 10 million dollars a year, the second highest paid member of his organization, whether she knew it or not.





tagged , who? MARSALLA ANIELA DE COSTA
words , howmany ? 783
lyrics , run this town - jay-z
credit , rora @ hos

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[marsalla de costa]

i must confess ,

[/i][/b][/size][/font]

i’m in love with my own sins ![/i][/b][/size][/font]

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Our organization. Marsalla was unsure if she had heard it properly the first time, but her heart soared momentarily at the realization. It fell just as quickly. The offhand comment didn't actually mean anything, it was just a word for the family members who surrounded it. It was likely that, anyway, because Lorenzo was the sibling who was truly closest to inheriting the business, despite his worrisome trigger finger.

The environment of the room was more strained than usual, and Marsalla was tempted to go back to pacing the room. She stopped herself, tense on the couch; as unmoving as possible. Carlisle was acting too much as if he was her father, and it was bringing back painful memories of seeking attention where Marsie was unable to get it. She closed her eyes in pain until she brought herself to look back at Carlisle brightly.

A condescending smirk was on the man's face as he spoke, and Marsie only nodded--albeit a little solemnly--in response. Carlisle was too much like Federico in personality, screening her men for her; disapproving of meaningless dating and lusting. Marsalla appreciated the protection, but she hoped that soon, she would no longer have need of it. Marsie was finished rebelling--she had experienced too much of that in her late teens--but she felt that she deserved more than to be treated and known as simply Carlisle's younger sister. She still wanted power.

For that, however, Marsalla knew that she would have to do something drastic. She was also positive that she would have to speak to Carlisle about it, the purpose of being in this room. She feared Carlisle's reaction, but most of all, she feared her rejection. The plan, if there was one, was to take things slowly. She was not doing the best job of it.

That was when she made the slight mistake of accidentally complaining about work. That was not the way to start a conversation about her competency. Her mouth was set in a straight line and her mind worked double time as she processed the best way to hide her words. She blamed the butterflies in her stomach for her stupidity.

"No, no, Carlisle. That's not what I meant at all, her voice shook like a leaf, her heart beat too quickly , her mouth was too dry from uncustomary panic, "what I meant was that I love my job, the work is wonderful, but I'm sure that there are others who would adore to take my position. I've worked here for close to ten years. I thought that you might--" Marsalla had to break off her words before she began to whine. She was talking much too quickly, much to shakily. There was a lump in her throat from all the stress she had put herself under.

Marsie hadn't experienced this kind of feeling in a long time. She had been inclined to disbelieve that fear was integrated into her system anymore. It was obvious that she was able to feel it now, this cold 'bug' that spread through her with ferocity that caused her system to start pumping adrenaline. All Marsie wanted to do was run away in embarrassment, but the slight desire left in her heart, the heels and the locked door prevented her from doing so.

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THIS THREAD IS finished.
AND IT’S FOR Carlisle.
AS FOR WORDS, WE HAVE 515.
THE LYRICS ARE FROM america’s suitehearts by fall out boy.
AND WE’RE WEARING outfit!
ANY LAST THOUGHTS? <3
THANKS FOR THE HARD WORK template (c) - bethasaur ftw . of CAUTION 2.0

[carlisle lucas de costa]

* CARLISLE ( LUCAS ) DE COSTA ,





Marsalla's older brother stood from the couch, suddenly uneasy. He felt blindsided and miffed as he gazed unblinkingly at his best employee. She was shaking like a leaf, her voice trembling and faltering like a shy schoolgirl's. He eyed her sternly, his face turning abruptly from that of a caring fatherly-like figure to that of an ice-cold mob boss. He couldn't have nerves like this presented in front of customers, though he suspected that she was never anything less that perfectly self confident around clients.

Carlisle often thought about the heir to his business, as he was currently drafting his will. Lorenzo was the obvious choice. He was seventeen, the oldest male, though he had a nasty habit of stealing from the shipments and killing people who got in the way. He was a liability that needed to be molded to fit the expectations of being one of the biggest crime bosses on this side of the United States. And then there was dear Michael. Only 15, the next male eligible. But he was too young, still three years from being legal. Carlisle just needed to survive for three years.

There was just something robotic about Marsalla's responses, like she was trying to get at something that he wasn't mentioning. Carlisle sighed, and brought his fingers to his temples. He was stressed enough as it was, recovering from a gunshot wound to his arm, the bandaging of which he had hidden under his jacket, which was caused by Lorenzo's bad bookkeeping. If Lorenzo was ever to be heir, he needed to get his head on straight.

Unconsciously, Carlisle winced and sucked in his breath sharp as he flexed his arm, a mistake which caused excruciating pain to ripple down his bicep. Biting his lip, he slipped off, his jacket, ignoring Marsie for a moment why he regained his wits. He looked at his younger sister and gave her a strained laugh. "Got shot this week." He shook his head and cradled his arm as he took a seat in one of the chairs facing the couch on which Marsalla sat.

She began to talk in a rushed, panicked voice. But the words...she sounded like she was... but she couldn't be. "Marsalla Aniela de Costa." Carlisle said in a hushed voice. "Are you asking to quit?" It explained her nervous behavior, her complaint about being overloaded, and now with her comment about how long she had worked for him and that others would love her position. Well, by God, they would. It was a valued position, one worth a ton of money but it required someone special, with a delicate touch and a flair for business. And it most certainly required a woman.

Anger flashed over Carlisle's face before he recomposed himself. A shadow lingered in his eyes, his lips set straight and serious. Surely she knew she couldn't quit. She knew too much, she would be a liability. He had warned her like he had warned everyone else-- joining the mob was a lifetime commitment. You don't take off when the pressure gets too high or when you feel used. You suck it up, because the Family accepted you and now you must show the loyalty and devotion expected. Carlisle grimaced as he arm ached again, the bandages seeping as his blood pressure rose.

He took a breath to steady himself and waited on Marsalla's reply.



tagged , who? MARSALLA ANIELA DE COSTA
words , howmany ? 588
lyrics , run this town - jay-z
credit , rora @ hos

[/color][/center][/font][/size]

[marsalla de costa]

i must confess ,

[/i][/b][/size][/font]

i’m in love with my own sins ![/i][/b][/size][/font]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Marsalla Aniela de Costa. Are you asking to quit?"

The words were said in a hushed voice that barely disguised the anger plain on his face. A shadow was cast over his features and he was plainly on the verge of fury. His blood pressure was rising, and blood had begun to seep from his wound from last week. Marsie imagined that he could pull the gun on her at any moment in time. It was entirely possible, despite their relationship, seeing as she knew too much to be dispensable. As the boss, Carlisle had learned to disengage his emotions; and he would have very little problem with silencing her for eternity.

Carlisle had it all wrong. As the silence was prolonged and tension rose to record highs, Marsie broke. Her fear became hysterical, and the silence was broken by laughter. It took Marsie a moment to realize that the laughter was coming from her own mouth. Soon, she was uncontrollable, unable to calm down for long enough to speak; practically rolling on the couch. She had not laughed like this in a long time, and it had never felt so good. Nor had it been a worse time to do so.

Marsie soon ran out of oxygen, and the laughing was reduced to spurts of giggling and hiccoughs. Eventually, she had calmed herself enough to speak. "Oh, Carlisle!" Giggle, hiccough, giggle. "You have it all wrong. I want exactly the opposite of quitting! I wanted to ask for a promotion of sorts. I--" another spurt of hysterical giggling "--I just wanted to ask if you could consider me for the next Boss. That is, if anything happens."

Now that Marsie said it, she realized she had feared nothing. The adrenaline pumped through her in her crazed state, and she believed that she was invincible. She laughed aloud once again, but was soon reduced to giggling once again. Carlisle had thought that she had wanted to quit! He obviously didn't know his own sister as well as he thought he had.

Marsalla fell quiet after a few minutes, eyes bright. Her hair had a sort of wild look to it now, as did her whole face. She no longer looked nervous, she looked as confident as she was when dealing with customers. But she had not yet seen Carlisle's reaction, and she as she lifted her eyes, she began to regret the way she had reported her wish to be an heir.

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IT’S FOR Carlisle.
AS FOR WORDS, WE HAVE 417.
THE LYRICS ARE FROM america’s suitehearts by fall out boy.
AND WE’RE WEARING outfit!
ANY LAST THOUGHTS? <3
THANKS FOR THE HARD WORK template (c) - bethasaur ftw . of CAUTION 2.0