6
Disclaimer: I don't know or speak Italian beyond the sparse words I remember from playing the AC games. Google Translate, FTW!
I always found it strange when I didn't dream while sleeping. My friend, Sarah, would always call me weird for having and remembering my dreams.
Black. Blacker. Blackest. It's all I see. I feel like I'm floating in darkness. I can't feel my arms or legs, but, I'm strangely calm.
Smell. I smell grass and something else. What is it? It smells like too many unwashed people but stronger.
Something's tickling my nose and left arm. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. I'm lying on my left side with my knees bent in front of me. While flexing my limbs out for a stretch, I noticed that I couldn't feel my right hand. It probably went numb, again.
A soft sigh escaped my lips as I crack my eyes open only to close them tight with a pained grunt. My left hand drifts up to rub my eyes. Moving my right hand only confirmed my suspicion.
"Ow." I mutter unhappily, in English. "Stupid, evil death orb." I hear the faint creak of new leather near my head.
"Cosa?" A male Italian voice blurts out. More fabric shifts and my face is in the shade.
"Huh? Oh." My long unused Italian surfaced and I tried again. "Mi dispiace. That hurt more than I care to admit." I crack my eyes open, again, to see him sitting between the late afternoon sun and I. My eyes blink open as I massage the numbness from my right hand.
"Are you well?" He smiles while he studies my face. "I noticed you lying over in the grass with your bag next to you. I thought you would be more comfortable in the shade."
"Where am I?" Since I wasn't quite awake yet, I chose to ignore his question in favour of one or two of my own. Once the numbness in my hand subsided, I pushed myself up to sit cross legged, facing the rugged looking man. "Who are you?" His bearded face and short dark hair gave him a gruff appearance. He, too, sat with his legs crossed in a green shirt with gold stripes. There was brown leather covering much of his chest and gloves on his hands. His dark eyes studied my face as he contemplated his response.
"My name is Bartolomeo D'Alviano. Who might you be?" His smile was inviting. "You are near the west end of Antico district in Roma, Bella."
I take a quick look around to see sparse trees, long and short green grass and old buildings that dotted the rolling hills. The grass and trees were very green. So green that it didn't quite seem real, as if this were some sort of very elaborate hallucination. I turned back to regard Bartolomeo.
"I'm Daniela. Daniela Savonorola." I'm smile politely. "Wait. Did you say Roma?" I can feel the blood drain from my face. "This is going to sound weird, but, what year is it?" My voice sounded weak to my ears.
"It is 1501 in May." He responds with a touch of confusion. "Are you not well? You are very pale." His right hand reached out and I feel its comforting weight on my shoulder.
"Not really, no, thank you." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I'll be ok. I would love to have a bed to rest in, though." Again, I hear the faint creak of new leather, so, I open my eyes to see him with his left hand extended towards me.
"Come. Pantasilea will love to meet you. We have a spare room in our home."
My grateful smile is all the response he needed. I can only hope that I wasn't making a mistake.