Italy Romana | Chiara Vargas
19 July 2011 @ 06:16 pm
A: Phone/Just outside 750 Partridge Drive.

[It's yet another sunny day in Mayfield. Which naturally means that it's going to be ruined, somehow. And true to prediction this peaceful day is shattered around 10:20am, when Romana walks into the kitchen after a quick clean of the house to find that huge scaly crocodile of Australia's lying happily on her previously clean kitchen floor. With a scream of shock she stumbles back, accidentally knocking the phone off the hook.

And then she explodes.

Into pure, unfiltered Italian rage.

Occasionally in Italian]

Australia!! What the hell is that fucking beast doing in my house, my kitchen?! Get it out, get it out right fucking now and I never want to see it again. This is not a fucking zoo, you Figlio di Troia! My kitchen is not it's holding cell!

I just cleaned that floor a day ago and looked at it! Look at it! Are you even listening to me, are you?! You rude che va in culo a sua madre!

I swear to Maria, I will go insane in the fucking place thanks to you, you little testa di merda!

[And all that can be heard is half muted Italian swears and the sound of things breaking. Italian temper at it's finest]

B: Main street of Mayfield

[After a rather long and loud rant at Australia about how she would never again tolerate animals in her house, Romana had stormed out. Clearly in a bad mood as she walks, she still manages to give curt nods to anyone that glances at her. But she rarely stops, her movements stiff as she tries to walk off her rage. She has had an explosion like that since... awhile. And the loss of control always leaves her slightly embarrassed.

Not that she thinks she was wrong to yell though.]

C: Mayfield's Church

[Finally she ends up the church, and quietly Romana takes a seat up the back. Once seated she seems to collapse in on herself with a sigh, rubbing her forehead as she scowls. Maybe she had overreacted... no, no, she had not. It was perfectly reasonable to react like that when there was an alligatior, crocodile whatever in your kitchen.

Sighing in a huff she leans back and slumps down, eyes closing and she lets the quietness of the Church relax her.]