The weather tonight is unusually cold, which is enough to send shivers down your spine. This spring has been somewhat warmer than usual in Florence, and because of this multiple blossom trees have been flourishing ever so violently, fluttering onto the gravel beneath them, creating an illusion that it's incredibly identical to a rare snow fell covered path. However, the empowering sight of flooded blossoms is a much more beautiful and blissful replaced view. A simple-minded yet enjoyable view reminds Ezio of his beloved Cristina. Soft tangled locks wrapped between his fingers while trading misty-eyed contact, starring lovingly into her deep brown eyes booms an everlasting desire for a caressed embrace. Her Florentine beauty blooms confidently each passing day. Although Ezio's father and elder brother, Federico, disapprove of his nightly visits to Cristina, he still manages to sneakily slip away from the Auditore residence, and into the Vespucci household. Cristina, against her father's wishes, deliberately leaves her bedroom window open for her long missed love to climb in. However, an unusual turn of events left Cristina confused and ponder on why Ezio wasn't present for the past six warm spring nights. Missing one night was just passed off as a need for space or a busy schedule that was just an accidental mistake for not reminding each other, and she usually would sleep it off. Nevertheless, a brief thought on what could have been the reason quickly escalated into something that would make Cristina's heart sink. Maybe she was exaggerating, but the absence of Ezio for so long without explanation ripped a hole in her chest. What if Ezio had been forbidden to see her ever again? Or maybe he was involved in a silly antic with Federico which resulted a fatality?
"No...It can't be!'
The nagging image of Ezio hurt in some way lingers enough that it's almost painful to concentrate. The cold air floods into Cristina's medium sized room, where she lay in a fragile fetus position upon her unkempt queen sized bed. Ezio's absence of his warm touch of the fingertips around Cristina's neck tugs at her heartstrings. Hours pass, descending into late evening. Cristina slumps herself beside her window, looking out upon a quiet moonlit Florence. A gloomy moonlight beams down onto the left side of her face, shadowing it in some way. Undoubtedly, the night is chilly enough to leave you shaking, but leaves a surreal touch to its presence. Drifting off ever so slowly, her eyelids heavy and sore from constant fixture upon Florence, Cristina is suddenly awakened from a whisper so soft she can't figure if it was her imagination or not.
"Cristina...It's me."
Her vision is blurry and her mind hazy from the disturbance mid sleep, she can't tell if she's still dreaming.
"Cristina…?"