'The Past In Sicily' headcanon lore dump

Article by Szenmai

So a good while back, I ordered the all-in set for 'The Past In Sicily', and I was so excited that I started playing with my toys before I ever got them. I figured I'd post the lore I came up with for them because it might be fun.

       Okay, so Marcello and Federico were childhood friends. They were orphans living on the streets who had to fight to survive. At some point, they become separated, and Marcello learns that he can use his gift for violence not just in self-defense, but also for entertainment. He becomes a fierce competitor in underground bareknuckle boxing and makes a meager living off of it. Eventually, one of the local loan sharks/mafiosi, Edoardo, decides to hire him as an enforcer. Now he's out of poverty and, for the most part, out of danger, but the changed nature of his fights makes him feel insanely guilty.

       Luciano is another person in the employ of Edoardo. He performs exclusively at venues owned by him, because though he once had the ability to go anywhere, he found himself deep in debt to Edoardo after a series of blackout benders. Their verbal agreement is that he's working off his debt, but they both know that's never going to happen. Luciano doesn't particularly mind the stability and knowledge that Edoardo will have to clean up after him no matter what he does. In the back of his mind, there is the dim idea that Edoardo could replace him and make another star, but it doesn't seem likely.

       Sometimes, Marcello has to play babysitter to Luciano. It's not really his favorite task, but he knows not to complain. One day, Luciano drags him along to a Chinese apothecary to fetch a tea that he uses to soothe his voice. The environment makes Marcello nervous, since he's turned hard into Catholicism to deal with the guilt of doing Edoardo's dirty work and this atmosphere feels very pagan to him. Luciano isn't religious, so he loves the place. Marcello meets the owner for the first time--his childhood friend, Federico. I still haven't decided how they'd get separated as kids, but he's surprised to learn that he's spent the past several years in China. This is where the plotline kind of deads for me, haha. I haven't thought past this point.

       Michela and Luciano are half-siblings, with Luciano being the illegitimate younger brother taken in by the family after his mother's passing. They have a very cold, nearly non-existent relationship, but when they do see each other, Michela shames Luciano for straying from the faith. Luciano scoffs because Michela was incredibly cruel to him growing up and knows that he's no better now.

       Michela is an antisocial information broker, or maybe more accurately, a blackmailer. He uses the information that he gets in confessionals to get whatever he needs. Because Marcello spends so much time in the confessional, for example, Michela could pretty much blackmail him into doing anything. He considers Federico an enemy because his uncomplex offering of "eastern spirituality" is easier for wayward souls from the west to get into because it places less emphasis on guilt, which risks thinning his flock.

• Federico's apothecary

       "It just… makes my skin crawl." Marcello clenched his jaw, restlessly fidgeting with the rosary that wrapped around his wrist and dangled down into his palm, twisting the beads and stressing the thread that held it all together.

       On the outside, and with the exception of the signs in the window, it was just a nondescript little hole-in-the-wall, carved into the side of the building like all the other shops next to it. Once a row of two-story homes, now storefronts.

       "What?" Luciano looked towards him with an incredulous smile, eyes alight, flashing those ridiculously white teeth of his. "Is the big, strong man afraid of a building?"

       "Just not so eager to kiss my eternal soul goodbye," Marcello replied through gritted teeth.

       "...Well, I think you'll be okay," Luciano said as he wrapped both of his arms around one of Marcello's like he was an accessory (a rather large purse, considering how his duties seemed to consist primarily of holding heavy objects) and tugged. "Besides, you're my bodyguard, so you have to go wherever I go."

       "Babysitter, more like."

       Marcello shook his arm free with a bit more patience than he owed anyone and laid a hand on the doorknob, drawing in a decisive breath before speaking—more to himself than his charge. "Just make it quick."

       When the door opened, it rang a chime, which seemed to send a chain reaction of tingling around the walls and all the way into the back.

       Dim as the space was, it was a matter of seconds before their eyes adjusted, but even then, it was difficult to see. Most of the light in the room was natural, a bluish tone streaming in from the windows, but in the recesses of the shop were a few dying incandescent bulbs crested with halos through the haze. It reminded Marcello of the atmosphere in the gambling halls, but with a markedly more pleasant odor. Earthy, yet florid, but still distinctly smoky.

       The walls were lined, and the floor dotted, with precariously towering cabinets constructed of dark, lacquered woods that looked like barrel-chested shadow demons in the low light. The space, while hypothetically equal in size to the other shops on the block, was incredibly cramped, forced to contain an entire culture within—or perhaps, an amalgamation of several. Trinkets and sundry for sale seemed to have found semi-permanent homes on the floor, piled in front of and beneath tables with yet more merchandise atop, forcing you to crane over and blindly feel around for whatever you wanted.

       It felt hostile. It felt like the store did not want you to browse, did not want you to loiter, did not want you inside. Either you knew what you were here for, or you needed to get the hell out.

       All at once, Marcello felt both hopelessly lost and fatally ensnared.

       Through the sales floor, a narrow, jagged footpath carved its way to the counter, from which Marcello could see a billowing ribbon of smoke. In any other circumstance, that wouldn't have posed a problem, but this place felt like a death trap. He stuck an arm out to bar his charge from venturing any deeper.

       "Something's burning."

       "Incense," Luciano replied, pushing Marcello's arm back to his side. "You burn it and it smells nice. There's all different kinds."

🔗The Past In Sicily Series MJD Action Figure Blind Box