note: okay, so the original idea was to write a chapter a week, however i think i'm having difficulty doing just that. i'm going to (hopefully) just get two or more pages done each weekend, seeing as weeknights are far too hectic! and thankyou guys for the first couple reviews or so; i really appreciate it!
By the morning I was well awake. I'd slept restlessly the whole night, not trusting my surroundings. The night was too quiet, and today, the streets weren't loud, but had a gentle hum. It was like being on Bourke Street, or perhaps more like the intersection of Flinders and Swanston. That intersection was always busy. But not loud. On the floor beneath me, I couldn't hear much until the distinct sound of a door creak, one that I'd heard last night, rang out.
I struggled to get up at first, and once I did, wow, was I sore! My muscles were aching all over, every time I took a step forward, the motion would stretch something in my torso, making me whimper. Now that it was considerably lighter outside, I caught much more than a few glimpses of the tiny little room. I noticed that the room I had slept in didn't have a proper door, but a thick curtain that draped all the way to the floor. I noticed that the desk in the small living room was made of a gorgeous wood, almost purple in this light. I ran my fingers over it, touching, testing, feeling the smooth, satiny surface under my fingertips. I thought it unusual for this era.
I was only focused for a moment before I looked up, and saw for the first time, the city waiting just beyond this frosted window. The city was gorgeous, there were people buzzing about in the tiny square immediately outside the window. The women, most of them covered from collarbone to ankle, with few exceptions. The men in frilly, bright numbers, with the huge collars and tights look—I thought it was ridiculous. This was incredible; how these people were essentially the same as the world I come from. But they're all so different. These aren't the people that I see when I walk through a shopping centre. I couldn't explain my mixed emotions to you.
While I found this absolutely incredible, better than any story my history teacher would have me imagine, I was still scared. Bile swelled at the back of my throat, I was so nervous. I never wanted to leave this room, but my stomach desperately grumbled for some form of sustenance. I felt so bad for intruding on this guy's life, regardless of how famous he'll be in a matter of centuries.
I followed the narrow stairway, and around, until I heard two voices speaking, low and fast, in Italian. I made a small effort to slow down; I really didn't want to get in the way. I heard the door open, and they said their goodbyes. I chose to wait a few seconds before I turned the corner, and very nearly ran into him.
He collected himself, and I apologized. He looked very desperate to communicate better than he could. I stood awkwardly, and for a moment, just looked around the room. It looked better in the light of day, when I could see how huge the room really was. The windows near the front and sides of the house practically glowed, and the sunlight drew huge yellow stains on the floor. The table he'd placed a single candle on last night, was a huge desk. And it was so grand, and beautiful.
I was right to just admit that there was stuff everywhere. And a rather huge collection of books, too. It made me happy. It even made me feel a little closer to home. My room was always messy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
I'd taken in the entire room before I turned back to him, to see that he had his head bent over a bench intently, before he turned to me with a small roll and a sturdy mug of what I assume was coffee. I've always hated coffee, it's so bitter and flavourless, but in this instant, I gratefully took the mug and roll in my hands, and eat. It felt so wonderful to have something trickle down my sore throat.
In a matter of moments I'd finished my food to find him staring at me, looking at me up and down. Not as though he's attracted to me, but as though he's suddenly a fashion designer and thinks my jeans and Star Wars tee are so last year. In a quick motion, he plucked the empty mug from my fingers and snaps his head around just as there were two sharp raps on the door. I didn't really have much of a choice but to stand where I am, and awkwardly try to look busy as he answered the door, and carefully took a decently-sized package in his hands.
"Grazie Annetta." And once the door was closed, he turned to look at me. I barely had a moment to think before he ushered me up the stairs and into my room, pushing the package into my hands before he left. I think, the moment I opened that package, I'd finally fallen in love. The dress was gorgeous, a very form-fitting blue dress, with delicate lace covering the edges. And it was layered, oh so many layers! I realized what he'd done, and how much this must have cost, and marched right out of the room, dress, packaging and all in tow. He looked up from his desk and instantly took on a face of disappointment, making no effort to mask it. Did he want me to parade around in it?
And in that moment, the emotions boiling within me disintegrated, and I realized how nice he was being. He may have spent a lot of money on me, but nevertheless, he was looking after me, and I wasn't being very gracious. I silently stepped back up the stairs, remaining a little shameful for having just done that. I should know better.
I had a lot of trouble putting the dress on, for starters. This wasn't something I could just pull over my head. I had to step into it, then do up the wide straps, and then pull some strings tightly on my back that I couldn't see properly. I decided I needed a mirror, and as such, went downstairs to search, holding the strings very tightly, afraid for the dress to fall off.
I felt severely awkward, but Leonardo tied the dress up for me, and it made me wonder if he did secretly have a girlfriend at some point in history. I knew full well I couldn't go long without feeling even a little horny. My train of thought was interrupted by his hands on my shoulders lightly, making me spin around, before taking a step back, and admiring me like a piece of artwork. Of course.
However before he looked completely satisfied, he asked me simply, "May I?" to which I nodded, and he pulled out my hair clip. My hair cascaded down my back; I could feel its weight over my shoulders, and I turned to face him. The look on his face was positively enthralled.
He settled down after a few moments, and placed a chair for me by the fireplace, and seated himself in his own. I had a rather awkward time trying to learn to sit down in a dress; this was different to my school uniform, it was classier. I felt like I should be wearing a monocle.
We spoke for a long time, I told him how I didn't know where I was or where my family was, or when, and he told me that I was in Florence, Italy, and the date was the 23rd October, 1476. I sort of freaked out, my breathing sped up, my stomach nauseated and getting worse at that part, and curled up in my chair, cursing considerably under my breath, willing myself to believe it wasn't possible. And I was right, it wasn't. It couldn't be.
At that moment, the front door opened, quickly distracting me from my frantic reverie. Leonardo turned and greeted the guest in an awfully friendly way, I noticed. It wasn't until Leonardo called my name that I stood and turned to look at him standing next to his company—a tall, lean figure, shrouded in very thick clothes. The outfit seemed very sophisticated, and the off-white cloak made him look a little rich. I noticed multiple little holes along the wide belt covering his stomach, and couldn't help but wonder what they were for.
"Il s'appelle Ezio." I got the impression he noticed my staring very quickly, and straightened his stance, bowing his head.
"Signora." I knew what that meant, for a nice change. I gave a small curtsy, and the three of us just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. However, Ezio quickly resolved it by bringing to attention a small cluster of leather, steel, and parchment, and had captivated Leonardo immediately. I took the liberty to sit down by the fireplace again, and it occurred to me that it wasn't even lit, and I had no reason to be sitting by it as of yet. It was a pleasant temperature, anyway.
I traced the stencil of the fireplace with my mind, and I carved every plane of the faint lion sculpture situated above it. The lion alone wasn't pretty, but seemed to work well with the structure of the fireplace. It reminded me of the angel on the front door of Leonardo's home.
Ezio cleared his throat, and took a seat beside me. This time, I really looked at his face, and one thing I noticed, was that he looked so damn tired. Huge dark circles were visible under his eyes—he had the eyes of a child— and a clear darkening on his chin. I didn't really know what happened to him, but he looked positively scared out of his wits. His eyes made him look like a child, even though he had this huge, attractive body. He reminded me of a Calvin Klein model. Trust me, with a guy that attractive, you could see his muscles through anything he put on.
As soon as he opened his mouth, Leonardo said something to him, quickly and quietly, and he did a double take, staring at me questioningly. His gaze turned back to Leonardo, who hunched forward over his desk with a serious concentration face. It was a little bit cute of him. He was an absolutely adorable guy, even though he seemed to be married to his work.
"Pourquoi tu ne peux pas parler l'Italien?" Ezio said to me. I think I would've liked to learn Italian, if not French. Maybe Leonardo could teach me a few things, if he wasn't too busy. I simply shrugged at him. Why doesn't he know English; it can't be that rare in this place! Frankly, I'd imagined going on an exchange program that they offered at my school, and I think the scariest part would've been the inability to communicate. Imagine turning on the radio, only to not understand a word of it?
If I could've guessed what Leonardo said at that moment, it would've been how I've barely been in Florence for two days, maybe three. I could've sworn there was a small hint of bitterness in his tone; was I that much of a bother to take care of? Perhaps I ought to make myself more useful; at home, I would never offer, but here was different. What if he got fed up with me, and kicked me out? I didn't have anywhere to go. The thought honestly scared me.
Later, after Ezio had left with a pretty scary-looking weapon, I'd grown tired of sitting still. I'd done my best to clean, while making sure to avoid things I didn't think he'd want me to be looking through. I dusted the living room upstairs, made a simple lunch of bread, fruit,—funny, as I'd never liked figs before—and salted meat Leonardo had bought earlier in the morning while I slept, and run a simple errand for Leonardo. It felt a little wrong to call him that, considering how much he shaped the world I live in.
One thing I did notice, was a model hoisted into the air, made solidly of wood. I would've said it looked much like a large bat, if I hadn't known better. It was his flying machine; I'd read about it, along with the history of the Mona Lisa, which took roughly sixteen years to paint, from what I can remember. I'd gotten close enough to touch the model when Leonardo cleared his throat loudly behind me.
I turned to meet his eyes, and felt suddenly nervous. He wasn't quite disapproving, but not altogether happy with coming into the room to find my hand outstretched toward what was probably one of his prize possessions at the time. I immediately looked to my feet, my cheeks red.
"I—" I was interrupted by two sharp raps on the front door, followed by some angry-sounding yelling. I made an effort to stand out of immediate line of sight, however I watched Leonardo as he spoke to the man at the door. I recognised the incredulous look on his face, before he nodded and left the house, and the door wide open.
It took me a moment of listening until my muscles almost systematically moved toward the door. At the same time that I looked follow Leonardo, wherever he may have gone, I ran head-first, straight into a taut, broad chest. Ezio took barely a moment to look down at me with an almost angry look before snapping his head to the right at the next sound. It was sort of a low pitched wail, like a dog that had just been kicked. His dark eyes took one last glance at me, before I watched him saunter alongside the building and disappear around a corner.
My heart was tight in my chest as I realized that if he'd just decided to disappear for the night, just as fast as he'd appeared, I'd be alone. And alone was something that I certainly did not want to be.