Double update because I have so much time to kill. I liked this chapter, idk.
Translations:
duomo - cathedral
the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore is the cathedral in Florence.
"Do you want to go into town with me?"
I lift my head from my pillows, looking up at Claudia. She's fully dressed, in a gown that wasn't as fine as the one she was wearing the day before, but still ridiculously nice. I wonder what time it is, and sit up, scratching at my tangled hair.
Into town. Florence. Last night, after my talk with Claudia, I fell into a restless cycle of redundant thoughts. Not about her brothers, but just about where I was. I narrowed it all down, created a complicated net in my mind and searched for the answer that didn't seem so… insane. All I was able to come up with was that Claudia and her entire family were acting, I was trapped in a 24/7 Renaissance fair, I've fallen into a coma and they're all figments of my imagination, or that I've fallen back in time through some freak accident.
Of course, there's, you know, the fact that time travel is completely impossible, unless the government is hiding it away from everyone. So, as for now, I'm leaning towards a coma, letting my conscience lead me through this as if I'm actually alive. A little part of me wants to think that I've bent the rules and somehow found a weird wormhole, completely by accident. But I'll never really know unless I can hear the people talking, and most importantly, be able to see. Seeing is believing, isn't it?
I look towards the heavy curtains, slipping out of the thin sheet tangled around my legs, nearly tripping over the heavy coverlet that I kicked off last night. I shuffle towards the thick red curtains, reaching out hesitantly and pulling it back, expecting a brick wall, or pure black. But no. I look across at the house across from the Auditore's, and down below, to the alley. It's a little dark, but the farther I look down, the brighter it gets, until the alley breaks out into the street, and I can see the sunlit city, the voices of actual humans, and trees, and more buildings.
"Alright."
She smiles and nods. "Do you want Annetta to come and dress you, or are you going to wear those clothes my mother was talking about yesterday?"
"My own clothes, thank you."
She leaves me alone then, closing the door behind me. With the windows open, a little light spills in, and I just stand there, looking at the shadow I cast. That's not my imagination. That's not my conscience. I lift my arm, and look down at the shadow. A little shimmery outline, the flimsy, billowy sleeve of my dress, surrounds the black shadow of my arm. That can't be conjured from memory if I've never worn a dress like this.
It scares me and thrills me at the same time. Kneeling down, I try to shake off the plunge in my stomach and the pace of my heart. I pull out my bags, a plain black overnight bag and my grey Jansport backpack. I unzip the black bag, pulling out my jeans and a t-shirt. I'd get looks but at least I'd be comfortable, and with my current discovery, that I somehow fell into the Renaissance, the very first thing I would be needing is comfort.
I slip out of the nightgown, and change into all my clothes. My Converse are still under the bed, and I pull them out, tying the checkered laces and standing up. I fight off the urge to look in the mirror, to feel like I never left, and walk out. I take my time down the stairs, and straight ahead is the front door. Claudia dawdles in front of it with Federico, slapping at her brother's arm, face flushed while he blocks her slaps and laughs.
"Oh," Claudia remarks, sizing up my outfit. "Is that how everyone dresses in England?"
It must have looked weird to her, the cutoff of the shoulder because it was one of those typical discount shirts from Forever 21 for $10, the strap of my bra and tanktop overlapping one another, my black jeans, the black Converse.
"This is how I dress," I shrug. Claudia manages a smile, a smile that came two seconds late, because my pants and shirt were definitely not the breeches that her brothers wore, that she must have been expecting.
Claudia turns on her heel and opens the door. At first, I blink, shuffling into the courtyard of their home. It was small and square and stone, with a wrought-iron archway leading out into the street. Federico and Claudia walk out without a care, used to the city, the place they lived in, a place they were familiar with like I was with New York. I take slower footsteps, taking the time to admire everything.
Chattering groups of people walk by, and they're everywhere, walking through the city like NOBODY did for leisure in my time. A doctor stands with his cart under the shade of a tree, waving around a jar and yelling about remedies for a woman's monthlies, wearing one of those bird masks that makeshift doctors wore during the Black Plague. Shops and houses look alike, the only difference being signs in the windows of shops and dangling from hooks. But it's all beautiful. Everything is perfect, even if the foul smell of freshly emptied chamber pots faintly floats through the air. There are no skyscrapers that interrupt the skyline and reach up too high, no smog, and no litter.
"What are you doing, Caterina?"
I jerk towards the voice of Federico yelling for me, him and Claudia at least fifty feet ahead. I jog to catch up, and I finally notice the people giving me stares here and there. I don't really care after awhile, letting the siblings lead me through the city.
Claudia bustles along in front of us, on a mission, it seems like. We pass under archways and by stands of vendors who say that their wares are the best, not to buy what they have from anyone else. The stands are everywhere, whether they're in small clusters or big groups… just like the whores, apparently. I know that they call them courtesans in this era, and that they have more talents than the average prostitute, that they're meant to entertain in other ways BESIDES sex, but I'm still going to call them whores.
It makes no sense to me that people are giving me dirtier looks than them. These girls' breasts are popping out left and right, their skimpy dresses pushing them up and out and so tightly together it's like they're glued. Their dresses are either the average length and slit up the thigh, or the front is entirely cut out, a tiny pair of shorts blocking anything from being seen. But God, they're really pretty. They're beautiful, I'm not even lying. They're all ruby lips and rosy cheeks, their hair tied up in little buns, eyes smoky and their skin creamy. They hum and sigh and laugh seductively, earning whistles and dirty words from some men, and grapple at others. Including Federico.
One dark-haired girl, the prettiest of them, lazing under the shade of a nearby tree as we walk by, rises to her feet. Her shoes look like ballet slippers, laced up her legs in a baby pink, and tendrils of her shiny hair fall out of their buns. Her lips are played up in a sweet smile, but her eyes tell a different story, and she practically floats over, all long legs and perfect everything. She pulls at his arm, and he skids towards her, giving an odd smile, crossed between familiarity and nervousness. She whispers in his ear, in the shade, and the girls begin to circle him. They coo his name and toy with his hair and run their lacquered fingernails over his jaw, sway their hips, admire him like men admired them.
And I just stop, watching, wondering if he's slept with all of them. I look toward Claudia, who stops 20 feet ahead of me. She cocks her brows, silently asking me why I'd stopped, and her eyes swivel towards her brother. Exasperation takes over her pretty features and she waves me forward. I shuffle, joining her side, and we begin walking, leaving him behind.
"Does that happen often?" I murmur, narrowly dodging a small mule tugging a hay cart.
Claudia sighs, "You would be surprised. What did I say? He probably HAS slept with all of them, and I do not know their names, but I know the dark-haired girl. Simonetta Falcone. She's beautiful, isn't she? She loves my brothers."
My eyes widen. "They… they've BOTH slept with her?" She nods. "So they essentially share her? Like she's a piece of meat?"
"She is only a courtesan," Claudia shrugs. She stops to let her eyes rove over shiny red apples, sitting in crates in front of a short vendor whose head barely cleared over his high stand. She looks at me. "I did not elaborate much, did I?"
I shake my head, and we begin walking again, at a slower pace, until we reach a HUGE square in front of the cathedral in the city. I know what it's called, the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, because I had to do an intense project on it in fourth grade. I've been to big churches in Sicily, but never to a cathedral this big, a Renaissance cathedral. The dome is enormous, everything is so detailed, and I can't help but gawk, eyes widening at the side of the place.
"Of course the duomo has to be large," Claudia says with laughter in her voice, practically reading my mind. "It houses the rich and poor of Florence during high and low mass. They have mass everyday, for the devout, and there are many devout people in this city. But never mind that now, let us find a place to sit for awhile, si?"
She leads me towards a shaded, enclosed, grassy area, with a few benches sitting against the walls. It's pretty, bright flowers sprouting despite the lack of sun, and Claudia settles herself on the bench beside the arched entrance, and pats the space beside her. I join her on the cool stone.
"About my brothers," she sighs, plucking invisible specks off of her skirts. "They are very smart, in terms of women. It started with Federico, and he taught Ezio everything he knew. Girls fall for their tricks left and right. And some of them have no self respect to the point that they're shared between the two of them, but they never care about them. The only girl Ezio cares about is Cristina, Vespucci. La Bella. The beautiful one. He wouldn't DARE let Federico touch her and Federico would never try. And Federico…" She stops and sighs, rubbing her temples.
"There was a point in time when Simonetta wasn't a courtesan. She was just a simple girl with a dead mother, no siblings, and a drunk of a father. She was sweet but she was damaged, and she whored around with some boys at taverns. She's beautiful, she can get any man she WANTS. But Federico was fifteen and she was sixteen when she just randomly chose him. Then, he was just a bumbling, too-tall virgin. But she liked him. It's like she nurtured him into the womanizer he is today, you know?
"But she was always his favorite. Nobody knew about her for two years until I was with Annetta in the market, and I saw them together, somewhere down the road. And he saw me, and he told me every little thing, and he wasn't ashamed, not in the least. He really did care about her. But when her father died, she was out of money. The house she lived in was a pigsty. Any help Federico offered her was declined because she's a stupid girl. She doesn't have pride, she just didn't want help. It makes no sense to anyone.
"So she became a courtesan. A popular one, at that. She's the most lusted after whore in this city, while Cristina is the most lusted after woman. Federico and Ezio sat on opposite sides of the scale for awhile, and then Simonetta took a turn. She became conceited and confused and she's lost her mind, even he knows it. Federico still went to her every now and then, just to see if she'd changed, if she was alright again, but she never did change. It got worse. She was swallowed up by her life. To me, she was always a little scattered to begin with, but maybe he saw something else… Anyway. She threw herself at Ezio and now Federico hasn't touched her since, but I think that's why HE womanizes. Behind every womanizer is a girl that broke his heart, si?"
Claudia folds her hands on her lap, feeling content. "You know, I've never told anyone that," she says, giving me a peculiar look. "But I like you. I just want you to know that. Half of me is befriending you to protect you from my brothers but the other half finds you… I think you are good company."
I blink. I nod. Claudia released a mouthful like that at once and within minutes she's telling me that she thinks I'm good company…
"Well, come," she announces, rising from the bench. "I was going to take you to the tailor's, you know. But I don't think you're the dress type anymore… Are you? Hm. A dress would be useful for you, for dinners and such. What is your favorite color? Mine…"
I listen to her babble, following her to the tailor's. My mind is preoccupied, repeating everything she just told me, inhaling the clean scent of untouched fabric, as if that would help me process everything in a clearer way. She lets me wait in the front room, settled on a cushioned seat between two mannequins, silky dresses fit around a petite waist of wire and the low shoulders set around the shoulders made of clay. I sit for a long while, listening to the familiar banter between Claudia and the tailor – who is quite obviously homosexual, I might add.
Yay for Renaissance gays.
I don't know how long it's been when Federico passes by the window, on a search for me and his sister. His hands are in his pockets, and he takes his time, shuffling by, before peering into the tailor's. I try to squish deeper into the cushions, until my back is flattened against the walls, but he sees me, and strides in, slapping his palm against the wooden doorway with a large sigh. He nods at me, coming to sit beside me on the long seat.
"How long have you two been here?" he asks me, leaning back comfortably. I shrug, and he licks his lips, looking towards the door into the back room. "Is she mad at me?"
"Not at all."
I feel like my eyes are just telling him everything. It's nearly imperceptible, but his eyes flicker from a hazel similar to mine to a dark gold, and my eyes follow the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows nervously. He knows that I know something or that I'm judging him, but he says nothing, toying with a loose thread on the sleeve of his doublet.
I reach over and pluck it off quickly, as my mother always did, letting the thick red string float and twist down to the floor. A complete silence settles over us then, and I don't understand why. I feel bad for him, and I want to say something, to comfort him, but we're strangers, and I shouldn't even know what Claudia told me.
So the silence follows us home. As Claudia babbles on animatedly about the dress Teodoro, the tailor, had in mind for he. She nudged at me with smiling eyes and expected teasing from her brother, either being intentionally oblivious of the awkwardness or truly unknowing, but I think it's the former.
We enter the house in silence. We dine in silence. We go to bed in silence. And I can't help but feel it's kind of my fault.
TENSION~ I'm gonna take it slow with Federico and Caterina and kind of ease it in. I hate it when stories get really into the plot by like the 4th chapter. NO ME GUSTA. Nor do I want to make Caterina really one-dimensional and Mary Sue. If I start taking it in that direction warn me, please. Anyhow, review :3