Edera Velenosa (it means 'poison ivy')
10K
He ran his hands down the plush wine doublet, the velvet sticking up slightly as his nails dragged across the dark ebony piping. Well, Lucrenza had definitely gotten the 'form-fitting' part right. He still wasn't sure about the mask though. Personally he'd have chosen something a bit more revealing, like hard starched lace with dangling rubies and diamonds. They'd complement the tight black britches and silver-wrought codpiece. Not to mention the thigh-high burgundy leather boots.
He sighed and reached into the mask box, long bronze hands strong and sure as they gripped the edge of the dark burgundy Naso Turco mask with its beaklike nose and arched eyebrows. Did she really expect him to wear this?! The girls would hardly be able to tell it was him under all the paper mache. Well, at least his distinctive witch's fire spiked ebony tresses would still mark him, as would the grinning skull buckle and his long dagger. He'd have worn the rapier, but the stairs to the Grand Piazza in St. Marco's square were almost impassable with one strapped to your hip.
He sighed dejectedly and tied off the mask. Well, at least this way no one would know it was him when he seduced the new brides. He smirked lightly as the door clicked shut behind him, Venice rolling out ahead of him as he stepped into the waiting gondola. He was suddenly very pleased with his decision to attend the festivities even if he wasn't so pleased with who the host was.
Salvatore d'Esasperante, personally he had always thought it appropriate the man's name meant maddening, the man was definitely an aristocratic prick half the time. The other half he was just a prick. But the blonde knew the right people and those people threw fabulous parties, so it all worked out in the end and tonight was no exception. The villa's doors were covered in gold leaf, as were some of the wait-staff he noted, very posh, and there were more frill-covered bosoms then he could count. Oh yes, tonight was going to be a very good night. He grabbed a long fluted Champaign glass from a long haired pre-teen brunette with the largest golden eyes he'd even seen before plunging beak first into the crowd.
Hours later he emerged hanging over a balcony with more rouge make-up and face powder smeared into his gloves and velvet doublet than he cared to remember. It was always like that, they were beautiful and charming and witty and in the morning they were gone and he'd never learned or cared to remember their names. It wasn't a bad way to live, just a lonely one. He plucked a cigarette out of his lips and flung it off into the multi-colored gem-like lights of the Carnival festivities below. It was all too much, he thought suddenly, too much noise and light and press of bodies, just too much of everything.
The delicate clink of a small brandy sniffer was placed gently by his elbow. Glancing askew he found himself gazing into a single grass-green eye, the other obscured behind a Phantom mask of the purest white with tiny vines flowing across its surface in glistening emerald. It was a man, slightly shorter than himself with a thin build, but there was a wiry strength and grace that showed behind his carefully controlled movements. Snow white brocade and lace flowed around him, the long pleated vest with silver piping and tiny ivy lined cuffs were tufted in soft lace and his deep midnight cloak and velvet tricorn hat added an air of mystery and forbidden liaisons to the simple ivory leather breaches.
"You appeared to need something a tad stronger than the Champaign, sir." The gentle voice washed over him the way a hot shower would. He instantly felt calmer than he had in hours.
"Grazie," he murmured, taking the sniffer in two fingers and swishing the amber liquid.
The stranger leaned back against the railing letting his now noticeably shoulder-length chestnut hair fall back to hang suspended above the plaza as he looked up into the night sky.
"It is stifling in there, is it not?" he found himself complaining absently.
"A trifling, though these things normally are, are they not?" the reply was coupled with a soft chuckle as the man glanced over at him.
"Acquaintance of Salvatore?" he asked, meeting that startling green eye.
"Yes, childhood conspirator to the detriments of our elders, I believe they called us. You?" laugh lines crinkled around the glowing orb as he felt himself being drawn further and further into the other's spell.
"Carbonaria Inquisitorial Member under his uncle; we met a year ago during the campaign." He sighed, such worldly concerns were fleeting annoyances in his mind, but the benefits to such abysmal connections seemed to be improving if current company was any indication.
"Tancredo, you?" the man held out a long fingered gloved hand.
"Kallai, it's from the Bible," he muttered defensively at the others upturned brow.
"Yes, I'm aware. A priest of Joiakim, correct? Quite a mysterious name. Could it be that the man himself is even more mysterious, Mr. Inquisitorial Member?" he quipped sliding closer along the railing and gracing him with the most breathtaking smile.
*heh* "Not sure if someone whose name means 'he who shrewdly gives advice' should be talking there." He joked back warmly.
Thinking back on it, he probably should have moved away as their friendly banter and laughter left the two of them close enough for their shoulders to rest against each other. He should have, but he didn't. The man hadn't seemed threatening as they watched the crowds far below them.
He hadn't seemed threatening as they escaped the dreadfully boring party and headed to the Ballo Tiepolo at the Palazzo Pisani Mosetta either. He hadn't even felt threatening when somehow they found themselves pressed flush together under an ivy embroidered awning trying to lick the insides of each others tonsils; the throngs of Carnival ebbing and flowing around them unheedingly.
No, the only time he caught the barest hint of danger was when Tan gasped his name in a semi-moan/prayer and his toes curled while his stomach and heart did back flips. It was only while gazing into two shimmering emeralds did he realize just how much danger he was in. When he realized as they slid together stickily that after this he'd never be able to turn back.
Watching the sun rise over Tan's messy brown fringe he wondered aimlessly if it even mattered anymore. At this rate they'd both go to Hell. He smiled as firm lips ghosted over sensitized skin. Oh yeah, they were going to Hell, together.
He couldn't wait.
~Fin