AN: Ok, so I ended writing a single, mammoth chapter which meant that I either had to post it as aforementioned 'single mammoth chapter' (which would be pretty difficult to read), or post it as two separate chapters.
I chose the second option. It was much easier to read. The next chapter will be added in literally minutes, promise.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it all the same - especially the description of Cinna's 'crib'. Oh, if only I owned my own villa...
Happy reading!
"Many Tuscans consider the Val d'Orcia to be the most beautiful part of Tuscany." Cinna begins as the car carrying the two passengers zips past the dizzying expanse of the incredibly beautiful landscape. For the past hour, nothing but an almost overwhelming amount of green countryside filled Katniss's vision. The rolling hills, each with their own unique collection of dips, slopes and peaks, were tattooed by sections of yellow – wheat crops that grew in abundance within the fertile Tuscan soil. The occasional brick or stone house dotted the landscape, partly hidden by large pines or stone walls. The valley had its very own intricate network of flora and fauna, plants and trees that Katniss had only ever seen on television or in travel magazines. The very smell of air tasted different to Katniss, and she discovered the strange urge to want to count ever single red poppy that peppered the virgin soil.
"Whenever I get out of the car at Pienza, even the fresh, pine-scented air feels like a gift." Cinna pauses, flicking his gaze towards Katniss as she turns her face upwards, soaking in the rays of the comforting Tuscan sun. "Home," he continues softly, "an instinctive sense, a sense to trust and follow."
Katniss glances towards him, pensive. "You really love it here, don't you Cinna?"
A small smile stretches across his lips. "This place is more than just beautiful and comforting – it's magical."
Katniss scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Right." She responds sarcastically.
Cinna straightens his sunglasses, throwing a smirk in Katniss's direction. "Ah, I have a reluctant cynical on my hands!" He mockingly declares with a flourish of his wrist. Katniss glares at him. "I'm not cynical." Pausing, she adds "-and I'm not reluctant, either!"
"Yes, you are, Katniss." He counters. Before she could argue, he continues. "For example, take the tale of my roses."
The girl rolls her eyes, taking the bait. "What about your roses, Cinna?"
"The villa that I had bought in Pienza had been abandoned for almost fifty years due to the fact that it was partly a heritage site." He begins. "No one wanted this particular estate. Real estate agents had long ago given up on advertising it. It needed a lot of work and the locals that were interested simply could not afford the upkeep if they chose to restore it to a liveable state."
He began to trace patterns into the steering wheel. "Rebuilding and restoring that house became my new project. With roof tile that was replaced, with every curtain that I added to the French windows – I slowly began to piece my life together, starting from the foundations up," he pauses, flashing a grin, "excuse the pun."
Glancing back towards the road, he realises that he would be reaching an intersection very soon. It was strange, a little frightening and extremely exciting thinking that by simply choosing to turn right instead of left, Cinna was potentially sealing a new fate for Katniss.
A much happier fate.
"Anyway, when I first explored the place, I discovered a section of roses behind one of the old barns – pink, yellow, red, white – that had seemingly survived and prospered through fifty years of dry seasons and neglect." Glancing towards Katniss, he catalogued her blank expression – not bored, exasperated or sarcastic – just…blank.
'Perhaps a lifetime of thinking emotions were signs of weakness rather than natural human responses…' Cinna muses inwardly.
Immediately, he knew he was correct to assume that she did not see the small miracle of the roses - the impossibility of their soft, delicate scent that intermingled with the perfume of Cinna's delightful collection of olive trees during the harvest season. She could not see past her structured world of logicality. Katniss couldn't acknowledge the magic that wove its wave into the very essence of the Tuscan soil.
"Do you not see the sheer magic of it all?" Cinna prods, right hand gesturing dramatically.
Katniss's lip quirked into a fractional smile, amused due to Cinna's spirited personality. She sobered quickly, however, realising that behind his rueful grin, the man required a serious answer. Glancing back at the sunlit valley, Katniss shrugged her shoulders. "They're just flowers, Cinna." She murmurs.
He shakes his head sadly. "The magic is there, Katniss…you just have to open your eyes to see it."
Disgruntled by his vague comments, she turns her vision back towards the passing blur of the landscape, discovering an oncoming intersection. Frowning, Katniss consulted her map where a little highlighted circle was helpfully drawn in by Prim, making it easier for Katniss to pinpoint the town where she will live for the next three weeks. Glancing back up at the oncoming road, her frown deepens, creating miniature dips in her forehead.
"Cinna, where are you…the town is the other way."
The man in question simply shakes off her comment, continuing down the right exit.
Katniss opens her mouth once more, her lips forming the shape of her next comment, but Cinna cuts her off, voice calm.
"I must have forgotten to mention to Primrose that the original villa you were going to stay in was experiencing plumbing problems." His voice is casual; light. "Usually, I would let it go for customers who were staying for but a few days, but you're staying for a few weeks. It will simply not do." He concludes.
Katniss's expression morphs into one of concern. "So…where am I supposed to stay now?"
"Pienza."
She frowned, confused. "In the same town as you?"
Cinna bit back the urge to twirl an imaginary moustache like some evil villain in a play. 'I've got to stay away from that sugar-loaded Baci Ice-cream. It always makes me feel so peculiar…' he thinks to himself.
"Try under the same roof." He responds.
A myriad of emotions flash across Katniss's pale face, shocking him momentarily. Quickly, she settles for one of discomfort.
"No, Cinna, I can't do that. I will not intrude on your privacy – you only just met me!"
Cinna batts away her protests, shaking his head. "It matters not that we have only just met, Katniss. I feel like I've known you for an age." Seeing Katniss's wavering expression, he throws his final argument at her. "-And anyway, Portia cannot visit me this month. It will be nice to have some company. Plus, I have a feeling that you will prefer this villa over the initial one."
Katniss sighs. "It's not about what I would prefer-"
"-there's a lovely forest that surrounds the very outskirts of my land, full of game." Cinna pauses. "Well, that's what the locals tell me anyway…" He trails off, glancing at Katniss from the corner of his eye. He notices the slight glimmer in her eyes when he mentions the forest.
"Apparently there's also a lake in there somewhere – perfect for moonlight swimming sessions – but I've personally never have been able to find it." The last part he says is the truth, sadly. Cinna has heard of the beauty of this lake, but has never been able to see it for himself – and if there is anything that upsets Cinna, it is being unable celebrate beauty in its purest form.
Katniss worries her lip, weighing out her options. Finally, she lets out a little sigh, her lips twitching into the shadow of a smile. "If you're sure, Cinna. Otherwise I will happily find a hotel or something…" She says.
"You will be doing me a great favour, Katniss."
Katniss POV
Staring outside of my open window, I almost had the mind to thank Prim for her annoying efforts in trying to get me to have a holiday. Almost.
I actually had to blink a couple of times when I first caught sight of Cinna's villa. When he had said villa, I had imagined something like a transformed terracotta barn – some structure that shone yellow, brown, red and orange under the hot sun. What I discovered was something else entirely.
My jaw dropped when I first saw the recently restored thirteenth century castle. Glowing a vintage white, it stood atop a hill with sweeping views of innumerable hectares of olive groves, vineyards, forests and meadows carpeted with red poppies. A large greenhouse presided on the west side of the back garden, filled with an exotic array of colours and scents. Manicured lawns dotted with flowers placed in patterned lines surrounded the double story estate, their images reflected on the huge arched windows of the villa. Stables could be seen in the distance, closer towards the olive groves. A lovely, alfresco terrace was situated on the roof of the estate, perfect for entertaining a small group of close friends with a bottle of wine, delicious food and a collection of humorous tales.
Despite the grandeur of the exterior, the interior of the villa was relatively simple – large, spacious and elegant, of course, but simple nonetheless.
Upon entering, the house felt large and spacious – cool and refined- with its white focal colour. The living room was minimalistic with its incredibly high ceilings, grey stone feature wall and large focal fireplace. The furnishings and décor were, once again, elegant yet understated. The marble floor was a cool welcoming from the blazing Tuscan sun. The open-space living prevented me from feeling trapped within a well-furnished cage. The kitchen was a mix of charming Tuscan features such as a beamed ceiling, as well as Cinna's signature minimalistic décor. With his sleek, pale décor, dotted with bursts of vibrant colours such as a vase of sunflowers or a beautiful painting, Cinna made the large villa feel more like a well-used home, rather than just another building he owned. You could especially see this through the pile of open books strewn around his study that overlooked the manicured gardens below. You could see this through the strange stain – which turned out to be pink nail polish – on his leather couch. You could see this through the half-used jars of herbs and spices that hung from the white cabinets in his kitchen.
Cinna loved this villa – that could not be denied – but I couldn't help but wonder if he ever felt lonely in this beautiful maze of rooms. Being me, of course, I blurted out my question despite its inappropriateness. He had simply smiled and made me follow him to his "most favourite room in the whole house."
It was funny how he kept on referring to it as a house…
When he opened the large white double doors, I gasped in surprised. A large, white work space was covered in large sketchbooks and the odd sheet of scribbled-on parchment. Large white bags hung on clothing racks that lined the walls of the room. Another desk was covered with neatly piled pieces of material, as well as a simple sewing machine.
"I create clothing for the stars – it helps me with the upkeep of the vineyards and olive groves – thus allowing me to not only provide jobs for the locals, but to also sell the harvest to the local producers." Subdued pride coloured his tone as he continued "I supply Marco, who is both a customer and a good friend, with the majority of the olive yearly harvest. He makes the best olive oil in the whole east of Tuscany."
"Anyway, the clothing I design for the rich and famous is only a means of earning an income. My true passion lies within this collection of sketchbooks…" He trailed off, reaching for a particular leather bound sketchbook. He handed it to me and urged me to flick through it. Another gasp left my lips. What I saw were not simple, everyday pieces of cloth and material stitched together. Oh no, what I discovered were pieces of artwork.
Intricate, delicate, elegant, unique – slices of emotion and personality in every intricate stich, every detailed pattern. I had never been an avid follower of art. I never understood what I was supposed to 'feel' when I looked at a white dot in the middle of a black canvas. I felt strangely vulnerable as I gazed at the naked bodies of human sculptures. Art wasn't my thing.
But gazing those beautiful sketches, I felt like I knew what each and every drawing was supposed to be about. I thought I could almost imagine what Cinna was feeling and thinking when he sketched the folds of the silk, the shimmer of the gossamer in the skirt, the shine of the pearl buttons…
"They're beautiful, Cinna…" I whispered, lost for words.
He smiled radiantly, seemingly pleased with something in my response.
"The house does get lonely at times, I'll admit," he began, "but most of the time, I'm either outside sketching or inside this room, sewing or drawing."
He gazed fondly at the sketchbook that I held gently with my hands. "The house began as a challenge – a challenge to rebuild myself along with the house. My attachment to it grew, however." He shook his head fondly, absently running a hand across the ivory wall. "Sometimes I wish I had a large family to fill it, but I am content nonetheless. I have friends and neighbours who drop by often. I take daily walks to central town – and right now, I have you."
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I sigh. Cinna was kind of like me in a strange way, but also very, very different. Just as he had me for a friend, I think I now could count him as one, too.
Oh, Gale would be surprised with my sudden increase in sociability, I am sure…
After my little private tour around the house, Cinna and I ate dinner – a mixture of antipasti, crunchy bread, cold meats and a large serving of Moscardini in insalata, to which I later found out were grilled baby octopuses, drizzled in white wine, lemon and olive oil, further complimented by a large serving of salad. There was also a strange, reddish purple and white salad placed on the table. When I asked Cinna what it was, he told me that the Italians enjoy a type of salad made up of blood orange and fennel, sprinkled with a pinch of sugar.
I learnt that I wasn't a huge fan of fennel.
Feeling jetlagged, I bid Cinna buonanotte, and tiredly made my way up to my second-story room that overlooked the west side of the estate. Strangely enough, as I quickly undressed by the window, I noticed another large stone mansion in the nearby distance. Cinna never mentioned a nearby family, but then again, he probably never even thought about it…
Yawning, I stretched my arms high above my head and sank into the bed that would be mind for the remainder of the trip.
As soon as my head hit my pillow, my world went black and my mind slipped into a peaceful slumber.
I hope you guys liked it! As always, I would love to hear what you think.
Next chapter will be up in the next couple of minutes :)