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Paradisa, unknown
The city had been quiet, that night.
After an hour or so of patrol, Stephanie spared herself further torture by Paradisa’s winter, even if the night was still young. Surviving the cold might have still left her to death by boredom, after all, and she couldn’t have that when she had good company in the castle.
Kara, however, wasn’t in her apartment, and so close to midnight, she figured Lucrezia would have already retired for the evening. Tim had declined, buried in some book, and that left Ezio. So, without a response from the journal but so bored that she’d risk the chance that he was “occupied”, Stephanie started climbing the stairs to the top of Orfus tower.
She did not make it far before meeting company. In fact, she all but bumped into company.
“Stephanie,” Lucrezia said, voice hitching, taking a step back.
“Whoa,” Stephanie replied, unexpectedly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Visiting my brother, of course.”
Stephanie smiled. It was dark enough in the tower’s stairs that had she not known Lucrezia’s face like the back of her own hand, she would have scarcely recognized her friend at all.
“And you didn’t think to bring a candle?” Stephanie said, reaching for Lucrezia’s hand.
Lucrezia did not take it. Her smile was tight.
“I did not think to take one,” she replied.
“Good thing we have a magic castle,” Stephanie laughed, and in an instant, there was a candle in-hand, courtesy of the castle. Why she did not ask for a flashlight, she did not know; perhaps these Renaissance friends were rubbing off on her more than she thought.
But the laugh died on her voice when her eyes adjusted and Lucrezia came into proper view. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly alarming about Lucrezia’s face –– no blood, no mark of violence, or anything else that Stephanie feared she’d someday see on her friend’s face. No, this time it was something about the way Lucrezia held herself, the way her pale skin was blushed red with exertion, the way her hair was tousled, locks of golden blonde half-caught by the day’s braids. She was undressed, as well, in a white chemise and a red dressing gown, and the chiffon of her chemise fell so low that Stephanie could see the darker blush of Lucrezia’s nipples, and the slightest sheen of sweat on skin.
She’d never seen Lucrezia in a disarray like this, certainly not with dry eyes and a smile.
“Uh,” Stephanie said. What else could she say?
Lucrezia’s smile grew a bit wider, more genuine, and her red lips pursed for an instant.
“My dear Stephanie,” she said, teasing. “You are staring.”
“Are you okay?” Stephanie asked, eyebrows lifting.
“I have never been better.” Lucrezia reached to Stephanie’s face, cupping her cheek, and the candle flame between them danced so close that Stephanie could see its reflection in Lucrezia’s eyes. “I had the loveliest dream today.”
“What was it about?” Stephanie found herself asking, though she felt her stomach twisting. Who was this girl, standing before her? So little had changed, yet she found herself wondering.
“You and I, of course,” Lucrezia said, fondly. “We were together on a bed of clouds, as angels. We were in the happiest of embraces, you and I... And we lived on this cloud in bliss, with only the deepest affections for each other.”
That isn’t suspicious at all, Stephanie thought, followed by what would make me have anything but affection for you? But neither thought reached her tongue, and instead she found herself putting her hand over Lucrezia’s and smiling.
“That sounds pretty great,” Stephanie found herself agreeing.
“It was,” Lucrezia replied. The mischief on her face grew, for an instant, and then she dropped her voice conspiratorially: “Ezio desired an invitation, but we had no such need for him.”
Stephanie laughed, gaze dropping momentarily to the floor, and then back up to Lucrezia’s lovely face.
“No boys allowed,” she agreed.
“My favourite rule,” Lucrezia nodded, and her own gaze dropped, too. When it lifted again, she said: “But now I must retire to my bed of silks, and more happy dreams. Good-night.”
Stephanie nodded, too, replying with “good night” in return, and Lucrezia’s hand drifted from Stephanie’s face. With scarcely more than a smile, she stepped past Stephanie, taking her good self and the golden glow of the candle downstairs with her.
After a moment, when the light had faded around the corner and left her in the darkness of the stone stairwell, Stephanie turned to look up the stairs. True, above them was Cesare’s room, but there was also Ezio’s.
Her heart sank with each footstep that carried her up.
At the top of the staircase, Ezio’s door was ajar. The latch, just barely off of its catch, let a stripe of light leak out into the hall... dim, like firelight, so predictable of these Renaissance people. Stephanie dared go to the top of the stairs, fingertips barely brushing the door, moving her face to the crack to see within.
Ezio, within, was seated on the couch, in front of the fireplace. Stephanie could see he was shirtless, at the very least, leant over elbows-to-knees, head in his hands.
Anger burned low in her stomach, making her feel sick. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what had transpired between her friends, and it came with a whole host of emotions from betrayal to jealousy to sheer rage. But still, she hadn’t expected him to look so dejected: if he had ever betrayed her trust, she had imagined he would do it with his usual swagger, his usual shamelessness. So what was this, then? Did he have the gall to betray her trust and feel bad about it?
Her teeth ghosted over her lip, tensely, and she straightened up and dared push the door open a bit wider, hoping to catch his attention before she barged in. When he did not look up, she chanced it further, pushing her way right in.
“Ezio.”
He looked up and met her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t really read his expression; was it guilt? Remorse? Frustration? All three, perhaps? Then, wordlessly, he looked away.
“I bumped into Lucrezia a few minutes ago,” Stephanie said, to fill the silence.
“As did I,” Ezio replied.
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
Ezio sighed.
“Apparently not.”
Stephanie opened her mouth to say something more –– what, she didn’t know, but she was sure it would be scathing –– but her eyes fell upon the coffee table in front of him. On it was a gun, a polished antique of some sort, but given the bullets scattered around it, a functional one. The sight alone brought her confusion... and conflict.
“Do you want to explain?”
Ezio stood, picking up his shirt from the couch in the process and keeping it in-hand. He ran his free hand through his hair, brushing his bangs back from his face, and even in the dim light, Stephanie could see how exhausted he looked.
Something was wrong, but that didn’t excuse anything.
“Ezio,” she said, almost angrily.
“I do not want to hear it,” Ezio replied, turning and beginning to walk away, towards his bedroom. Stephanie followed, immediately, but Ezio did not look back.
“Really? Because even if you think I’m some sort of prude, I know what it looks like when––”
Ezio stepped into his room and moved to close the door, which Steph caught, continuing fervently:
“––when a girl’s been in your room! I thought we had an agreement, I thought I could trust you with her––”
Ezio turned to her, and even in the dim light, she could see the restlessness on his face.
“Stephanie,” he interjected. “I was warned not to tease, but I paid them no heed. Now I’m being bitten.”
“Excuse me?” she replied, eyes narrowing.
And then, quite curtly, Stephanie found herself pushed aside and the door closed in her face, the lock sliding into place soon after. Upset, she slammed a hand against the door, but there was no response.
Then there was nothing to do but fume... and wait to see how it all played out.
The city had been quiet, that night.
After an hour or so of patrol, Stephanie spared herself further torture by Paradisa’s winter, even if the night was still young. Surviving the cold might have still left her to death by boredom, after all, and she couldn’t have that when she had good company in the castle.
Kara, however, wasn’t in her apartment, and so close to midnight, she figured Lucrezia would have already retired for the evening. Tim had declined, buried in some book, and that left Ezio. So, without a response from the journal but so bored that she’d risk the chance that he was “occupied”, Stephanie started climbing the stairs to the top of Orfus tower.
She did not make it far before meeting company. In fact, she all but bumped into company.
“Stephanie,” Lucrezia said, voice hitching, taking a step back.
“Whoa,” Stephanie replied, unexpectedly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Visiting my brother, of course.”
Stephanie smiled. It was dark enough in the tower’s stairs that had she not known Lucrezia’s face like the back of her own hand, she would have scarcely recognized her friend at all.
“And you didn’t think to bring a candle?” Stephanie said, reaching for Lucrezia’s hand.
Lucrezia did not take it. Her smile was tight.
“I did not think to take one,” she replied.
“Good thing we have a magic castle,” Stephanie laughed, and in an instant, there was a candle in-hand, courtesy of the castle. Why she did not ask for a flashlight, she did not know; perhaps these Renaissance friends were rubbing off on her more than she thought.
But the laugh died on her voice when her eyes adjusted and Lucrezia came into proper view. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly alarming about Lucrezia’s face –– no blood, no mark of violence, or anything else that Stephanie feared she’d someday see on her friend’s face. No, this time it was something about the way Lucrezia held herself, the way her pale skin was blushed red with exertion, the way her hair was tousled, locks of golden blonde half-caught by the day’s braids. She was undressed, as well, in a white chemise and a red dressing gown, and the chiffon of her chemise fell so low that Stephanie could see the darker blush of Lucrezia’s nipples, and the slightest sheen of sweat on skin.
She’d never seen Lucrezia in a disarray like this, certainly not with dry eyes and a smile.
“Uh,” Stephanie said. What else could she say?
Lucrezia’s smile grew a bit wider, more genuine, and her red lips pursed for an instant.
“My dear Stephanie,” she said, teasing. “You are staring.”
“Are you okay?” Stephanie asked, eyebrows lifting.
“I have never been better.” Lucrezia reached to Stephanie’s face, cupping her cheek, and the candle flame between them danced so close that Stephanie could see its reflection in Lucrezia’s eyes. “I had the loveliest dream today.”
“What was it about?” Stephanie found herself asking, though she felt her stomach twisting. Who was this girl, standing before her? So little had changed, yet she found herself wondering.
“You and I, of course,” Lucrezia said, fondly. “We were together on a bed of clouds, as angels. We were in the happiest of embraces, you and I... And we lived on this cloud in bliss, with only the deepest affections for each other.”
That isn’t suspicious at all, Stephanie thought, followed by what would make me have anything but affection for you? But neither thought reached her tongue, and instead she found herself putting her hand over Lucrezia’s and smiling.
“That sounds pretty great,” Stephanie found herself agreeing.
“It was,” Lucrezia replied. The mischief on her face grew, for an instant, and then she dropped her voice conspiratorially: “Ezio desired an invitation, but we had no such need for him.”
Stephanie laughed, gaze dropping momentarily to the floor, and then back up to Lucrezia’s lovely face.
“No boys allowed,” she agreed.
“My favourite rule,” Lucrezia nodded, and her own gaze dropped, too. When it lifted again, she said: “But now I must retire to my bed of silks, and more happy dreams. Good-night.”
Stephanie nodded, too, replying with “good night” in return, and Lucrezia’s hand drifted from Stephanie’s face. With scarcely more than a smile, she stepped past Stephanie, taking her good self and the golden glow of the candle downstairs with her.
After a moment, when the light had faded around the corner and left her in the darkness of the stone stairwell, Stephanie turned to look up the stairs. True, above them was Cesare’s room, but there was also Ezio’s.
Her heart sank with each footstep that carried her up.
At the top of the staircase, Ezio’s door was ajar. The latch, just barely off of its catch, let a stripe of light leak out into the hall... dim, like firelight, so predictable of these Renaissance people. Stephanie dared go to the top of the stairs, fingertips barely brushing the door, moving her face to the crack to see within.
Ezio, within, was seated on the couch, in front of the fireplace. Stephanie could see he was shirtless, at the very least, leant over elbows-to-knees, head in his hands.
Anger burned low in her stomach, making her feel sick. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what had transpired between her friends, and it came with a whole host of emotions from betrayal to jealousy to sheer rage. But still, she hadn’t expected him to look so dejected: if he had ever betrayed her trust, she had imagined he would do it with his usual swagger, his usual shamelessness. So what was this, then? Did he have the gall to betray her trust and feel bad about it?
Her teeth ghosted over her lip, tensely, and she straightened up and dared push the door open a bit wider, hoping to catch his attention before she barged in. When he did not look up, she chanced it further, pushing her way right in.
“Ezio.”
He looked up and met her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t really read his expression; was it guilt? Remorse? Frustration? All three, perhaps? Then, wordlessly, he looked away.
“I bumped into Lucrezia a few minutes ago,” Stephanie said, to fill the silence.
“As did I,” Ezio replied.
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
Ezio sighed.
“Apparently not.”
Stephanie opened her mouth to say something more –– what, she didn’t know, but she was sure it would be scathing –– but her eyes fell upon the coffee table in front of him. On it was a gun, a polished antique of some sort, but given the bullets scattered around it, a functional one. The sight alone brought her confusion... and conflict.
“Do you want to explain?”
Ezio stood, picking up his shirt from the couch in the process and keeping it in-hand. He ran his free hand through his hair, brushing his bangs back from his face, and even in the dim light, Stephanie could see how exhausted he looked.
Something was wrong, but that didn’t excuse anything.
“Ezio,” she said, almost angrily.
“I do not want to hear it,” Ezio replied, turning and beginning to walk away, towards his bedroom. Stephanie followed, immediately, but Ezio did not look back.
“Really? Because even if you think I’m some sort of prude, I know what it looks like when––”
Ezio stepped into his room and moved to close the door, which Steph caught, continuing fervently:
“––when a girl’s been in your room! I thought we had an agreement, I thought I could trust you with her––”
Ezio turned to her, and even in the dim light, she could see the restlessness on his face.
“Stephanie,” he interjected. “I was warned not to tease, but I paid them no heed. Now I’m being bitten.”
“Excuse me?” she replied, eyes narrowing.
And then, quite curtly, Stephanie found herself pushed aside and the door closed in her face, the lock sliding into place soon after. Upset, she slammed a hand against the door, but there was no response.
Then there was nothing to do but fume... and wait to see how it all played out.