Dorian Zibowski - Blog Posts

Lackadaisy but Warrior Cats

Thunderclan (Marigold)

Mordecai Heller Warrior Warrior name: Hatchetclaw Serafine de Savoy Warrior (Previously trained as a medicine cat) Warrior name: Bonepelt Nicodeme de Savoy Warrior Warrior name: Bearfoot Asa Sweet Deputy Warrior name: Sweettooth

Shadowclan (Lackadaisy)

Mitzi May Leader Warrior name: Softwhisker Rocky Rickaby Apprentice/Warrior (Technically still an apprentice but has a warrior name) Warrior name: Rockhead Freckle McMurray Apprentice Warrior name (future): Frecklepelt Ivy Pepper Medicine cat Warrior name: Ivyspark Dorian Zibowsky Warrior Warrior name: Gingerfur Viktor Vasko Warrior/Elder (Refuses to admit hes an elder) Warrior name: Deatheye

Kittypets/Loners/Barn Cats

Sedgwick Sable Kittypet Name: Wick Lacy Hardt Kittypet Name: Lacy Nina McMurray Kittypet Name: Nina Elsa Bastion Barn cat/Medicine cat (Previously Riverclan's Medicine cat) Name: Elsa Abelard Arbogast Barn cat/Medicine cat (Previously Riverclan's Medicine cat) Name: Abelard Bobby Bastion Barn cat Name: Bobby Dominic Drago Loner Name: Dom/Drago (Either goes)

Not really, they both are very unhappy.

I'd like to know which two lucky boozecats are gon be in this position

Lemme know cuz I already am drawing them lol

Hi, I really love your writing, they are so cute! I was hoping if you could write some romantic headcanons regarding Zib? The scenario is the reader (gender neutral) is in the same boat as Zib, where the reader was also in a on and off relationship, and their ex ended up marrying someone else. How would this relationship play out?

Thank you, I'm glad you do. :)

While you were hanging out at the lackadaisy you took quite the liking in the speakeasy's band. Somehow (you don't even know how) the band became your friend group. One evening, while you were ranting about life, the band picked up a similarity between you and Zib. They started teasing you about how similar ~you two pitiful, poor souls~ are. Your curiosity piqued and you decided to ask him about it.

At first he wasn't very eager to talk about his personal stuff with you, but after you got a bit closer to him and bought him a few loads of drinks, he started to open up to you.

Both of you were surprised to hear you've been through very similar stuff.

You wouldn't talk about it as if it was an idle, basic saturday chat, no... Zib wouldn't be so neutral/nonchalant talking about something he's been trying to run away from all these years. He'd have to be in his dramatic, miserable mood and you'd have to have some privacy.

Okay so first of all, it wouldn't be that easy for both of you to jump right into a relationship. He's been hurt too many times and I know he flirts a lot, but it's a 'no strings attached' situation. If anything, this would look like a situationship... "New person, same old mistakes" ;P

Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he had a foolish hope that since you had once found yourself in a similar situation to him, you would simply, out of pity, not cause him the same pain again, because you knew how awful this feels.

He knows that if he gets into a relationship, the breakup will hurt more than if there was nothing between you. Is the pain worth it? Perhaps with you it will be different...

You have to reassure him it's not just a game to you and that you are sure of what you're doing. Just be patient with him and you'll get there someday.

After you put a label on your relationship he'd be slightly less stressed about you leaving suddenly.

You have quite a few things to work on, but I'm sure if you two talk properly you're gonna find some way to fix your souls.

Zib might not be a lot, but he's there if there's anything you want to talk about. Especially late at night, when your mind feels a little too heavy, he'll calmly listen to you and once you're done talking he'll add a few thoughts of his. Even if most of your conversations start at one specific topic you've talked through so many times, you never really run out of words to say, you never get bored, each conversation somehow finds its way to another topic and another...

You also like to sit in (comfortable) silence and say nothing, basking in each other's warmth and presence, hoping in silence that you've finally found your internal peace.

Just for your own sake don't break each other's hearts, please.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARÍANNE! 🐍

(I’m not late what are you talking about? 🤡)

Decided to sketch something in regards to Marí and her friendship with Zib.

While it was a pretty late 20th birthday, the band still did some drinking in celebration (after a quick game of poker). In their spur of drinking, she challenged Zib to a drinking race, (yeah Marí try competing with the alcoholic, very smart). The band members placed their bets and uhhh, yeah, she isn’t winning this one.😭

But Happy Birthday to my baby Marí :>❤️

Here’s my chart so far! I enjoyed doing these and thank you to all of my lovely peeps for your requests ❤️

My requests are still open! :D

Yipppeeeeee! I’m bored so I wanna do something to practice my character drawing!

So I’m going to do that fun Expression challenge inspired by Nirami!

I’ll be taking requests and you guys can pick 1-3 of these expressions you want to see with either my oc Maríanne, or any of the lackadaisy characters! ❤️ After each expression I’ll cross them out! Thank you! :>>

Yipppeeeeee! I’m bored so I wanna do something to practice my character drawing!

So I’m going to do that fun Expression challenge inspired by Nirami!

I’ll be taking requests and you guys can pick 1-3 of these expressions you want to see with either my oc Maríanne, or any of the lackadaisy characters! ❤️ After each expression I’ll cross them out! Thank you! :>>

Hello! I am curious what is Marìanne's relationship with Rocky? Also what is her opinion or relationship with the Lackadaisy crew? Does she have any thoughts about them and what is her job exactly?

Does Marìanne have a family? Does she knows about the Marigold?

That's all l could think of, by the way your oc is so pretty and I love that she has snake fangs (I do have another lacka oc that's base on a sliver fox and snake.).

Have a good day/Night!

AHH! Hello! Thank you for the Ask! ❤️ and thank you, she’s my lil snake (even if she denies it) and that’s awesome! I love your art style and how you draw your ocs, they’re all so pretty 🥺❤️ Below gonna drop as much lore as I can! (Of course it might change because my brain likes to keep adding on 🥲)

This is gonna be two separate parts just to space things out! Let’s start with some Maríanne stuff!

🐍🐍

MARÍ’S FAMILY:

Has an older brother with a 12 year age gap, his name is Estefan Villanueva (his name was changed it might change again). He took care of Maríanne when she was much younger. When he got older he found himself a husband with a kid. His future husband helped him raise Maríanne along with his own child.

Her parents are out of commission. It didn’t end well for them. Maríanne thinks about them sometimes but was mostly raised by her brother.

There are some extended family members in Mexico but some died during the revolution. But she has some aunts, uncles, and cousins still kicking!

MARÍ’S JOB:

Oh, yeah, it fluctuates. When she first arrived at Lackadaisy, she started working at the Daisy’s Cafe as a waitress. Taught Ivy the ropes when she came to work there.

Then to keep her mind busy, she becomes Mordecai’s assistant and does a bit of accounting (mostly in her head).

At the same time she starts to work out again and regains her strength, she catches the attention of Atlas. He put her as a trigger man but she always got hurt because she refuses to kill the enemies with a gun (this mentality won’t last forever) and only fights with her fists. She really tries Mordecai’s patience.

The last straw was when she took in a rival gang member and that’s when Mordecai insisted that she doesn’t join their trigger man ventures anymore. Of course, she is still brought along as extra muscle but only for negotiations, but she just cooks books with Mordecai for the most part.

DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT MARIGOLD?

Oh yeah. Yeah she does. When she finds about Mordecai joining them and betraying Lackadaisy, she’s pissed. Once she finds him, she tackles the hell out of him. After almost killing each other, they talked things out like civilized people (if pointing a shotgun and pistol at each other was civilized). They soon made a deal and allied with each other.

Onto her relationships!!

♣️

MARÍ’S RELATIONSHIPS/THOUGHTS Pt. 1:

Rocky 🎪🎭🎻:

As part of my “The Rattlesnake and the Jester” AU, they met on the road. After a few coincidences of meeting each other while Maríanne was traveling to Florida, they decided to stick with each other because why not, better than being alone. They do split off but not my by choice. Once they find each other again at Lackadaisy it was a joyous day!

They have a close relationship, always getting into trouble with each other. Performing together on the streets almost everyday made them in synch with each other, it frightens a lot of people when they mimic each other perfectly or say the same sentences at the same time. Chaotic in the streets and chaotic on the dance floors. Swear up and down, they can communicate telepathically by squishing their foreheads together. Their love is a little codependent (totally won’t backfire) but it’s a good one.

They act so stupid and goofy when they’re together, so much so it makes people underestimate them. Together they’re a dynamic duo and can swindle people in a heart beat with their combined charm. One moment you’re like “aww look how stupid they are” and next thing you know, whoops! Your wallet is gone. 🔥Partners in crime!🔥

Her first impressions of him: “He’s cute, funny, charismatic, weird, talkative, but I like it. I love hearing his frantic rambles and poetry, even though I don’t understand the bigger English words.”

Current thoughts: “I will die and fight for him (yep they’re getting together). I still think of him the same way but I understand his rambles now. I like joining in his chaos but I will pull it back once it gets too dangerous or it risks other people’s lives. He’s my safe space and wherever he goes, I follow. I don’t want to lose him again. “

Mordecai 🔪⏱️🔫:

Her mentor (Mordecai never agrees with it but it’s the truth). Back in New York, Marianne’s brother owned a shelter/soup kitchen where Mordecai and his family stopped by from time to time. Marianne’s brother hired Mordecai to be his accountant once he got to know him. Baby Maríanne always followed Mordecai around when he came to the shelter and watched him work. Despite being annoyed by this clingy little child, he’d let her watch because she stayed quiet.

During their prime lackadaisy era, it was no different. Maríanne would come into his office and watch him work or even help him (or tries to, she just ends up being more of an unpaid secretary instead of a fellow accountant cuz Mordecai is very picky).

First Thoughts-“I admire him and I aspire to be like him (people often wonder why). I try to adopt his menacing and stoic demeanor, but it never works. Next best thing is trying to be as agile and quick thinking as him. I really trusts in his advice and judgement. Often finding myself looking to him for answers but I’m not afraid to question them. He keeps me grounded and I’m grateful for the amount of times he kept my mind busy with work. Better than dwelling on the past. Occasionally, I fear him and fear for him. I don’t understand how he can be so cruel but I’m jealous on how quickly he can turn off his emotions. How does he sleep at night?”

Current thoughts: “Can I still trust him?”

Note- Think of Athena and Odysseus from Epic the Musical

Zib and the band🎺🎷🥁🎹🎻:

She loves them. They’ve helped her get through her toughest days and always went to them on her break. They’d sing and dance with each other to the annoyance of most. They f e e d into her gambling addiction (always tempted to gamble her house keys, cuz she believes she’s that good) and she always plays poker with the band. For fun she often plays their instruments, always reaching the trumpet more (iykyk). Marí always hangs with them until Mordecai has to drag her by the scruff to bring her back to work.

She’d mostly do some late night drinking with Zib and they both just wallow in self pity together. ✨Depressed drinking buddies✨ She’d often go to him to learn more about poetry and (before their reunion) would ask him to explain Rocky’s poems to her.

First Thoughts: “They’re fun! I understand why Mordecai refers to them as “lazy hooligans” but I always finds them as a place of peace to let loose. A bunch of talented cool cats! Deep down I want to sing with them on stage but the dance floor just calls to me.

Current thoughts: “They deserve better.”

Viktor 🔧⚒️🛻:

A friend but only talks to him on occasion. She know that Viktor pities her but she doesn’t take it to heart. Marí slightly fears him but sees him as a place to run when they’re creepy men tailing her.

First Thoughts: “Tall. Tall scary fluffy man. I find him incredibly intimidating but I want to be as strong as him. His unwavering strength encouraged me to get strong again. I always feel tempted to ask him to throw me at the enemies. Like a surprise attack! But he’d probably stare at me. I’m definitely going to use his stare as a negotiation tactic.”

Current thoughts: “I pity him.”

Sorry for the long post! Second part coming later today!

This note was supposed to appear in a Christmas fanfic, but after @acesandocs sent me an ask about RoMaunce "Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)" with an art request, I made a decision to post both the fic and the note much earlier. The fic is under the cut, enjoy the Christmas spirit in the middle of summer. :D

Bonus: the fic also tells the story of The Most Ridiculous Scarf's creation. x))

The Winter Wonder

Working until the last client was an awful practice.

Mau couldn't remember when she had gotten a good night's sleep. Hiding behind the storefront window, she rested her head on her hands folded on the counter and tried her best to keep from falling into slumber. She might have fallen asleep for real if it hadn't been for the cheerful music that was playing from the radio.

“Let's not disturb Miss Maura,” a cheerful whisper sounded barely audible next to Mau. A few coins tinkled quietly as they fell onto the counter, and two visitors headed for the exit.

She didn't instantly realize what was happening, and raised her head too late. Before the front door slammed shut, all she could see was Rocky wrapping a threadbare blue scarf around his neck with one hand, and gently pushing his cousin toward the street with the other.

The two young men who frequented the eatery, and who were different from most of the visitors, were constantly drawing a lot of suspicious stares. When Rocky had first brought his redheaded cousin to the place a few months ago, it had been noon on a workday, and the workmen who lunched at the eatery had become strangely quiet when the two young men had taken the only available table near the exit. Until that day, Rocky had always sat at that table for some reason, but every time he had been lucky enough to come to the eatery when there were few or no other guests. On his first visit with Calvin, though, it was as if he had deliberately chosen the busiest time of day. Like he wanted them to be noticed. But Rocky had guessed, apparently, that they had attracted too much attention, and since then, alone or with his cousin, he had shown up at the eatery either when honest people were busy working or at closing time, when honest people were getting ready for bed.

Such was the case to-day.

“And the following composition will immerse you…”

With a click of the switch on the radio panel the main room fell into silence. Despite the approaching Christmas, Mau was in a horrible mood, and even with all her love of music, she had no desire to listen to another sickeningly festive song. It was a cloudy, unusually snowy day in St. Louis, and Mau was apparently infected by its grayness, so even her usual chores were draining. Mau's father and the owner of the eatery, Mister Augusto Venza, had been away for a couple of weeks in Chicago on extremely urgent business, so Maura had to serve the clients alone and, moreover, had to meet 1928 all by herself. Though she was rather glad of the latter.

There will be no fuss.

Slowly, one by one, Mau counted the coins that Calvin and Rocky had left as payment for the coffee, and was surprised to find a piece of paper folded several times next to them. Unfolding it, Mau saw some amusing, almost childish, drawings in red crayon. On the first one, she herself was sleeping with a terribly sullen expression in a daisy field under a big, angry raincloud. In the second, Rocky held a sheep, which resembled a cloud of cotton candy and was eagerly munching on that raincloud, above his head, while the cartoonish Mau was already smiling. Next to these sketches was a wry caption:

“Don't be sour! Let sweet dreams eat all the bitter thoughts. R.”

Chuckling, Mau shook her head. She scrutinized the drawing for another minute or so, then sat down on the floor behind the counter and pulled one of the wooden baseboards towards herself.

“Come on, stop being stubborn…”

Finally, the baseboard gave way, revealing a narrow gap at the bottom of the counter that Mau used as a stash for part of her tips. She folded the sheet tighter and put it with the notes Rocky had sometimes left on his previous visits.

The front door suddenly swung open, letting cold air into the room. Mau's heart leapt, and she hastily pushed the wooden flap against the gap, then hastily stood up from the floor and shook off her knees.

“What is it, my dear? Are the spoons running away from you again?” the old Missis Bruno creaked in Italian.

“You have a keen eye,” Mau answered her also in Italian and added: “The usual for you?”

The woman nodded and headed for the far table. As she looked at her, Mau noticed the bright green knitted scarf under her coat and walked to the kitchen to serve Missis Bruno her favorite cheese ravioli.

“You have such a lovely scarf,” she said as she passed by. “Where did you get it?”

“Knitted it myself,” the woman's eyes flashed with pride. “There's some wonderful yarn at Scaffidi's now.”

“You're such a talented needlewoman,” Mau said, putting the pot on the stove. “I can't knit at all.”

The eatery became awkwardly quiet for a moment. Maura's revelation made Missis Bruno squirm uncomfortably in her chair. The mere thought that a woman of Mau’s age could not knit not only disturbed her, but appalled her. From the kitchen, Mau couldn't hear the old woman muttering worryingly to herself:

“Poor girl, there was no one to teach her…”

But even that wasn't enough of an excuse for her. She had friends, neighbors, and yet Maura Venza, at the age of twenty-two, could not knit! It's not a long way to ruin one's fate, thought Missis Bruno, nervously rubbing her napkin in her fingers. No, she could not let it go! A little while later, she said loudly:

“This is just unacceptable. What's your father thinking about? Certainly not that his daughter is so mature and can't knit. That's embarrassing,” her tone changed from condemning to admonishing. “Tell you what, Mau, honey, I'll teach you how to knit. It's easy, you'll see. Mama left you needles and yarn, didn't she?”

“I don't think so. Even if she did, it remained in Kansas City,” Mau lied habitually, barely containing a grin. She was amused at Missis Bruno's attitude toward such things. No wonder, though; things had been different when she had been young. Mau couldn't prove to her that knitting wasn't a required skill now.

“Not good. Not good at all,” the old woman continued to wail. “Back in my days…”

Mau sincerely hoped Missis Bruno hadn't heard the low chuckle that escaped her lips. She pulled a small bag out of the freezer. Knitting. Well now! There was a book she couldn’t finish for more than a month, and today there were mountains of plates, cups, and baking pans to wash. What knitting to think of.

Listening to Missis Bruno half-heartedly, Mau soon put a steaming plate of cheese ravioli with pesto in front of the old lady and returned to the counter. With the toe of her shoe, she again tried to discreetly slide a piece of baseboard back into the gap.

“…and then on Christmas Day…” Missis Bruno persisted. The wooden part wasn't falling into place. Mau frowned and mentally cursed. Why had she even opened the stash in the middle of the day?

Oh, yes, Rocky. Rocky and his funny drawing.

…and his old worn-out scarf.

Mau looked outside the window, watching the snowflakes fall slowly. She rarely got a chance to go outside, but Rocky, given his very specific occupation, had to be out in the cold a lot. And sleeping in the car in this weather must have been uncomfortable, too… it wouldn't take long to get sick. The mere thought of that made Maura uneasy. She pictured him huddled under his coat and a thin, shabby blanket, huddled in the back seat of the car, and she clenched the side of the counter tighter. He had been taking time out of his day for so many months now to come to her and just cheer her up with something: a humorous story, a funny trinket, or a little candy. As if whenever by any means he could find a little bit of warmth somewhere, he had always rushed to share it with her. And now, more than ever, she felt the desire to return that warmth to him a hundredfold. Slipping the teaspoon to the floor, Mau ducked under the counter and pulled back the flap of the stash.

“You know, Missis Bruno… I think you're right. I really should learn to knit. Could I ask you to lend me needles until my father returns and show me how to do it?”

“Of course,” the woman said enthusiastically, obviously pleased that her story had piqued Maura's interest. “Maybe you want to make something specific?”

“A scarf,” Mau answered without hesitation.

“Oh, a scarf is quite simple,” the woman squinted her eyes, smiling broadly. “With my advices, you’ll do it in two evenings. It's the dresses that require all sorts of tricks, but this…”

After a moment, Mau sat down in the chair opposite Missis Bruno and handed her a few crumpled bills. All her tips from the last couple months.

“Good. Can you buy a couple skeins of good yarn for me, please?”

Two evenings was easy to say! A week had passed before Mau could manage to do anything right at all. And Christmas was the day after tomorrow! So little, so little time… Mau yawned. She could hardly keep her eyes open, and therefore even had stopped watching whether the rows of stitches were knitted straight or not. She finished her work only in the morning, and fell asleep, holding her knitting in hands, with the needles dangerously close to her eyes.

And overslept.

In the morning, after freshening herself up, she hastily stuffed the scarf into a bundle of paper and rushed to the eatery. She spent the whole day in anticipation, hoping Rocky would come, and every time the bell over the door jingled, her heart jumped in her chest. Until finally the young man appeared on the doorstep, shaking off the snow from himself.

“Today is on the house, in celebration of Christmas,” she told him, setting coffee and a plate of chocolate pancakes with raspberry jam, garnished with three raspberries and sprinkled with powdered sugar, in front of him. And while Rocky, as if being hypnotized, stared at this gorgeousness and tried to guess if the berries were purposefully arranged in a heart-shaped pattern or not, she shoved the bundle into the pocket of his coat, which hung on the clothes rack behind him.

When Rocky walked out of the Venza family's eatery that evening, he couldn't stop smiling dreamily. He passed by the lamppost, dancing around it, and laughed softly, putting hands into his pockets. To think that Mau had baked pancakes just for him, and damn, what pancakes they were! But… what in the world was that?

He stared in puzzlement at the slanted bundle, and immediately opened it.

Seeing… a scarf.

Or rather, it looked like a scarf, except… the blue stitches wiggled from side to side, the crookedly sewn buttons reminded two eyes, and what should have been white trim on both ends looked more like jagged teeth. If it was a scarf, it was the most ridiculous scarf he had ever seen.

“How did you knit to me, buddy?” Rocky murmured, twirling the knitted mess in his hands. But there was no clue neither on the scarf nor in the paper shreds of the wrapper. Frowning, Rocky looked over his shoulder at the eatery and bit his lip.

Could it be that it was made by Mau?

There was certainly a chance that someone had put the bundle in his coat by accident, but somehow Rocky felt like there was no mistake. It was definitely a present. A self-made Christmas present. From Mau. For him! Rocky straightened the scarf and lifted it as high above his head as his arms could reach, looking at it like at an absolute miracle. The scarf, swaying in the wind, stared up at him with its button eyes and its crooked, white-toothed grin. And Rocky, as he continued his way toward the Little Daisy, smiled broadly back at it.

“Zib, please have mercy,” he kept whimpering, clutching at the man's pant leg. Zib made another attempt to make a step, but after dragging Rocky across the stage floor a little more, he gave up again.

“Kid,” Zib sighed, “if you don't let me go, I'm just going to sit on you.”

“Oh, please! I'll even be your personal horse, taking you out to the audience every night, right under the spotlight…”

Zib gave him a confused look and snorted nervously.

“No, I think I'll pass, thank you.”

“It's a matter of life and death, Zib! What can I do to get you to say yes? I'd do anything. Give anything. Literally. Even my eye teeth.”

“Why on earth are you so damn eager?” The man flailed his arms up. Rocky pulled himself closer to Zibowski's legs, squeezing them like a vise.

“It's just Christmas. I can't resist the urge to do good deeds. What a stale dry man wouldn't be heartbroken at a picture like this? Just imagine: a poor, unfortunate soul burning with a passion for music, but locked in a prison of pots and pans… as the servants of Euterpe, it is our duty to rectify such injustices! Even if only once a year.”

Zib groaned doomedly. He looked down at Rocky tiredly, then up at the ceiling, then back at Rocky, whose blue eyes stared back at him, not even with a plead, but with an almost childlike hope.

“I'm going to regret this…” he muttered, sighing heavily.

The next bright, frosty morning, Mau went down to the eatery and began her routine. She wiped off the dust, pulled open the curtains, opened the window vent, turned on the stove and set a batch of muffins to bake, began to prepare the batter for tomorrow as usual, and then…

…heard the music.

From the street, very close by, came a jaunty jazz tune, accompanied by the singing of several male voices. Mystified, Mau rubbed her hand over the fogged glass of the window and looked outside… no, it couldn't be. She ran out onto the porch and, still not believing her eyes, stared at the whole orchestra on the sidewalk in front of the eatery. When Rocky noticed her, he stepped forward and twirled around himself, playing his violin with an unusually wide smile. Looking at him, Mau laughed warmly and outlined the musicians with her hands, as if silently asking: How? How is this possible? Rocky only fleetingly lowered his gaze, paying her attention to his new scarf, and then winked at her, continuing his improvised dance with the violin.

It was a real wonder.

Soon the music and singing subsided, and Maura, still grinning happily, loudly applauded.

“Bravi! Bravi! Oh, but please hurry inside, I don’t want you all to catch cold! Come on!”

Zib's band could barely fit into the cramped space of the eatery, but that only made the atmosphere more welcoming. When Rocky cheerfully introduced Mau to all the musicians, whose names immediately mixed in her head, she brought out cinnamon coffee for each of them and a vase of ginger cookies to bite until the cupcakes were ready.

“Mind if I smoke?” Zib asked, making himself comfortable in the old chair. Mau shook her head, locking the door. No, there will be no working until the last client today. Today will be only the celebration.

“How could I say no after such an amazing concert? How did you all even sign up for this?”

Zib chuckled, giving Rocky a sly look.

“Well, let's just say he's got a long way to work it off.”

“Oh, it was worth it,” the young man shrugged nonchalantly.

Following the cozy Christmas aromas, the tiny room was filled with stories from Zib's band's past, music and laughter. Mau couldn't remember when she had felt so alive, so it was like a dream. Such a sweet, sweet dream. In her mind, she went back to those distant noisy evenings in New York, when every holiday she and her father celebrated in the large company of the Riva family. When there was no fear or anxiety, when there was warmth and hope in everything. Mau's gaze lingered on Rocky. She didn't understand how he, with all his troubles and hardships, every time managed to do the impossible: even if only for a short period of time, but to bring her back that long-lost hope. But it was then, on that sunny Christmas Eve, when she finally heard in herself undeniably loudly: I love you.

After more than one hour and more than one cup of coffee, after a series of stories and a particularly noisy argument, Sy climbed up on the counter and began to dance and juggle apples to the lively rhythmic clapping…

When suddenly, dumbfounded, with a key in his hand, Augusto Venza appeared on the doorstep.