Life Of An Artist
Back when Omen thought it was a good idea to write entries for my blog; I asked him to do one on his life as da Vinci. At the time, I thought it was a great idea, because it really highlighted many hidden things. However, the feedback I got on it was little to none, so they are now removed.
As previously stated, Omen did not like talking about this particular life, even though he would often bring it up.
At the time, he wrote it without referring to himself as da Vinci, and used certain names as a hint. For instance, he referred to Gian Giacomo Caprotti da Oreno, better known as Salaì, “Little Devil,” as that is what the name literally translated to. Knowing about da Vinci’s true nature, that part of history will make a lot more sense to some, I’m sure.
This is what he wrote.
The Beginning
Where to begin….from the beginning I suppose. I was a male born to a peasant and a nobleman out of wedlock. I never knew my mother, I assume she died or that I was taken from her to go to my father’s holdings quite early on and that my mother perhaps did not have the ability to care for me as well as she had thought father’s wealth could. I do not blame her, I would do the same (if I cared for children, that is.)
In the current culture of the time it was yet to be considered blasphemous to have a few bastards running about. In fact it was something of a fail safe as mortality rates were still substantial. If one of your higher born heirs died, the lower could carry on as many of the higher duties almost immediately. The importance of family bonds and status were unequivocal in those times as wealth was freely expressed to both garner friendship and to uphold society overall. To me it seemed a bit of a free-for-all, a flamboyant playground that I was lucky enough to be landed in with all my needs met.
However, admittedly my circumstance was not all luck. I had pulled some strings with an affiliate of mine. He was a demon and wanted to invest in my unusual situation to garner himself his own body or two…or three even, I’m not entirely sure when he had decided to stop hoarding them or if he had even thought that there may be a limit. Anyhow, he needed practice so I asked him to find a good host, someone who would not die early and who would not have too much responsibility expected of them, but enough so that I could both express myself, yet not get so bored as to start murdering people (as has always been one of my many less productive habits). Of course, being trustworthy as he was, he found me the perfect candidate.
The downside was that I already had my own body at the time, I did not feel like doubling up as I was quite distracted with finishing my current business, so I had my own authority figures assign him the body and keep it and its human host safe and well until I was able to integrate into it.
These arrangements were and are not uncommon for me, as oftentimes if not for my own ends I have jobs assigned to me pertaining to specific families, times, locations and so many bodies are chosen for me ahead of time rather than left to sheer chance alone.
Anyhow, getting off the point now as I always do. I did not lay a talon on this shiny new body until it was 8 or 10 years of age (I really don’t count individual years anymore, didn’t back then either.) I had no recollection so the ‘little devil’ (as I called my friend and associate, not in English of course…but closest translation) he gave me a good run down of events and walked me through how to behave and such as befitted my role. In return, as was the arrangement, he could utilize my body when it was appropriate for him to practice being human (as long as he did not ruin my reputation.) Then when the time was right for him and when I could oblige, I could get him his own body. This I eventually did some 30 something years later, which in comparison such an amount of time is actually relatively short by our standards.