Topic #235
Show us where you live.
Andrea had a hand full of lace and fabrics as Nice and Xento tried to imagine what things girls wanted and liked best. William only watched the barest of interest, standing near the door to the shop so that he could watch the passers-by, Luca hovering somewhere between the group in the shop and Will.
“Will, you know what girls like best…come on, help a man out will you?” Andrea begged, flashing desperate eyes at the young, shy Englishman. Will only looked at him, then Luca before shrugging uselessly. “Will, don’t give me any of that none sense. All the ladies at the balls talk about you. You’re a right hit with them. You have to know something…”
The idea that knowing women was the key to women fawning over you seemed to baffle Will more than anything. He had, in his opinion, done nothing ever to warrant the attentions he received from Lady Bianca and her friends. Yet he was told he had a sweet smile, and was ‘quite charming’ often enough to at least infect the heads of his friends with the idea that…well, he was.
“I do not know,” he replied finally, his Italian flowing naturally after only a few months in the city. “Buy her perfumes and a necklace. They always seem to like those sorts of things.”
“Don’t you think perfume is a bit…forward,” Nico asked, pulling a bonnet off his head as he smiled at Andrea. “Not that his goal isn’t plain and clear…”
“How is buying a woman anything ‘not forward’?” Luca asked smirking a bit as he lifted a lace handkerchief. “This one says ‘Bianca, I want to share your bed in the mist of the night.’ And this one? Well this one says, ‘Bianca, I don’t care if you mama walks in on us…’” The group laughed at the jest, though Andrea’s was more reserved.
“I’ll have you know, I would never think to violate the lady’s honor,” Xento and Nico began to chuckle.
“Of course you would not be so vulgar…” Luca smiled, “unless she just happened to leave her bedside window open to the night, eh?”
“Oh you filthy rats!” Nico and Xento were out of the shop before Andrea had a chance to round on them, all snickering and joyous as they danced in the street. “I can’t believe they told you…”
“Why?” Will asked, turning from the scene outside to gaze at Andrea curiously, “they’d tell the Pope himself if they could. You can’t trust them to honestly keep a secret.”
Andrea blushed, before bowing to the shopkeep and returning the items. “There is a perfumer down on the other side of the plaza. I’m going to see if I can find Lady Bianca anything there, along with some rat poison.”
Luca smirked, pushing Will up to his feet as they followed their friend from the shop. Nico and Xento’s merry making had taken them toward a Piazza San Marco, Andrea moving more slowly behind. Only Will lingered, looking up at the sky as if he could judge all things in the clouds before tugging at his heavy coat.
“It is warm today…” He remarked absently, moving to walk along side Luca with a slow gait. “Do you think it will rain?”
Luca raised a brow, before lifting his eyes to the sky. It did rain often in Venice, but that was the life of an island. Or islands, however one wanted to look at it. And in turn he too shrugged, “probably.”
“You think the Doge would approve of Andrea courting his niece?”
“Suppose he does already. Andrea’s father has entered negotiations. Probably a done deal. This time next year our man will be a married man. No more running around the city with the rest of us.” Luca paused then, reaching out to stop Will as well. “What about you and the Bianca’s maid. Xento says she has eyes for you. Have you considered marriage?”
“I suppose that would depend,” Will remarked cryptically.
“On?”
“My master…”
Luca made a face, stuffing his hands in his pockets with an air of annoyance. “Don’t see why the son of a lord needs a master.”
“I never claimed to be such…”
“You bare a royal name, don’t you?”
William shrugged, looking across the plaza. It was not a subject he had ever engaged his new friends in. It was, in his mind, a subject best left to their imaginations. They could, and often would, make of it what they wanted. And what they made of it was there for not his truth,
nor his lie. It made life simple. He could simple…exist.
“And what of you, Luca? Your brother is Lord Giovanni. Surely he has in mind for you a good marriage…”
Luca shrugged, looking at the tile floor they stood on, before looking back at William, “what is it you do not tell us? You are a mystery, William Percy. You are dressed like a lord, educated by the finest of tutors Venice has to offer, and yet…I know only what I have seen.”
“Do you need to know more to know who I am?”
“I would like to know more, so that I might judge you as you judge me…”
William stared a moment, before shrugging. There was so little to know (or share) about himself. What could they possible desire to know from…or of him.
“Tell me of your home?”
“My home?” Will raised a brow, looking at Luca curiously as he thought it over. Home… what was that really, for him? “You’ve seen my home…”
“Your home in England.” Luca pressed more sternly, all the bearing of his noble heritage coming forth in his words. Demanding that his questions were answered, not dodged.
“Oh…” Will scuffed the heel of his boot against the tile before turning away from his friend, starting back in the direction they had traveled.
“Oh? Is that all I will get. A simple, enigmatic ‘oh’?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin…”
“Try…’I was born in…’”
“England.”
Luca cuffed him before another word could be said; stopping them both short as Will gave him an insulted glare while rubbing the back of his head.
“You are insufferable. Saint Augustine himself could stand before you and demand answers and you would find some vague way to answer.”
“And just exactly do you want me to tell you?”
“Something about you…” Luca pointed out, putting a finger in the middle of William’s chest and shoving him just a bit. “This elusive subject that William Percy dodges with each chance he gets.”
There was no obvious way to avoid the conversation. Sighing William looked about the Plaza with a sort of disinterest as he thought things over. How did one describe ‘home’? And in what way did something even qualify as a ‘home’? Sentimentality had never been his strong suit.
“Can we go somewhere else?”
Luca stared at him a moment, as if assessing wither or not the moving of locations would divulge the wanted information or simple provide William with time to dodge the subject. But after a moment he nodded and they both turned toward one of the many walks that connected the city.
He led the way, winding through the streets and pathways until they found the most isolated corner possible, in the dirtiest part of the city imaginable. It was difficult to think of Venice in such a way, dirty and uninhabitable. But then, William felt no different in the murky hole than he had elsewhere. If anything it only reminded him of home.
“Well?” Luca demanded finally, breaking the long silence as Will stared at the water. “Are you ready to talk?”
He still didn’t know what to discuss. Or how to describe hell on Earth. But there seemed little option in the matter. Luca would not be satisfied until his demands were met.
“I…” he started, only the falter and stop. Luca leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited patiently. There was not real prompt in his part, save a stern stare. “I was born in Northumberland, the bastard son of a local whore and a nobleman’s son. I grew up eating scraps, sleeping on a straw mat in a broom closet with a burlap blanket. What clothing I had, I wore until it fell off, or simply didn’t fit any longer.”
That was home. England anyway.
But Luca only gave him a skeptical look, and Percy sighed in frustration. What more did he want? Flowery poems? He was in for a sore surprise if that were the case.
“It was a hole in the wall! Dirty floors, rotten chairs and strange men that paid for my mum’s company. It wasn’t even a home. It was a place to sleep that was dry. A place to hide when the town folk wanted to take frustrations out on someone. That someone was usually me…I don’ know what else you want to know. That’s all. That’s it. There isn’t anything to William Percy, because William Percy didn’t begin to really exist before I came here.”
Luca frowned, his head canted to the side as he considered William carefully, “and your master?”
“What about him?”
“How does he fit into your story…?”
“He took me from Hell, Luca.” William explained with a resigned sigh, “took me from hell and brought me to heaven.” He paused a moment, looking back at the water with a sardonic sort of smile pulling at his lips. “He saved me…” If you could call it that.
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 1,597
Andrea had a hand full of lace and fabrics as Nice and Xento tried to imagine what things girls wanted and liked best. William only watched the barest of interest, standing near the door to the shop so that he could watch the passers-by, Luca hovering somewhere between the group in the shop and Will.
“Will, you know what girls like best…come on, help a man out will you?” Andrea begged, flashing desperate eyes at the young, shy Englishman. Will only looked at him, then Luca before shrugging uselessly. “Will, don’t give me any of that none sense. All the ladies at the balls talk about you. You’re a right hit with them. You have to know something…”
The idea that knowing women was the key to women fawning over you seemed to baffle Will more than anything. He had, in his opinion, done nothing ever to warrant the attentions he received from Lady Bianca and her friends. Yet he was told he had a sweet smile, and was ‘quite charming’ often enough to at least infect the heads of his friends with the idea that…well, he was.
“I do not know,” he replied finally, his Italian flowing naturally after only a few months in the city. “Buy her perfumes and a necklace. They always seem to like those sorts of things.”
“Don’t you think perfume is a bit…forward,” Nico asked, pulling a bonnet off his head as he smiled at Andrea. “Not that his goal isn’t plain and clear…”
“How is buying a woman anything ‘not forward’?” Luca asked smirking a bit as he lifted a lace handkerchief. “This one says ‘Bianca, I want to share your bed in the mist of the night.’ And this one? Well this one says, ‘Bianca, I don’t care if you mama walks in on us…’” The group laughed at the jest, though Andrea’s was more reserved.
“I’ll have you know, I would never think to violate the lady’s honor,” Xento and Nico began to chuckle.
“Of course you would not be so vulgar…” Luca smiled, “unless she just happened to leave her bedside window open to the night, eh?”
“Oh you filthy rats!” Nico and Xento were out of the shop before Andrea had a chance to round on them, all snickering and joyous as they danced in the street. “I can’t believe they told you…”
“Why?” Will asked, turning from the scene outside to gaze at Andrea curiously, “they’d tell the Pope himself if they could. You can’t trust them to honestly keep a secret.”
Andrea blushed, before bowing to the shopkeep and returning the items. “There is a perfumer down on the other side of the plaza. I’m going to see if I can find Lady Bianca anything there, along with some rat poison.”
Luca smirked, pushing Will up to his feet as they followed their friend from the shop. Nico and Xento’s merry making had taken them toward a Piazza San Marco, Andrea moving more slowly behind. Only Will lingered, looking up at the sky as if he could judge all things in the clouds before tugging at his heavy coat.
“It is warm today…” He remarked absently, moving to walk along side Luca with a slow gait. “Do you think it will rain?”
Luca raised a brow, before lifting his eyes to the sky. It did rain often in Venice, but that was the life of an island. Or islands, however one wanted to look at it. And in turn he too shrugged, “probably.”
“You think the Doge would approve of Andrea courting his niece?”
“Suppose he does already. Andrea’s father has entered negotiations. Probably a done deal. This time next year our man will be a married man. No more running around the city with the rest of us.” Luca paused then, reaching out to stop Will as well. “What about you and the Bianca’s maid. Xento says she has eyes for you. Have you considered marriage?”
“I suppose that would depend,” Will remarked cryptically.
“On?”
“My master…”
Luca made a face, stuffing his hands in his pockets with an air of annoyance. “Don’t see why the son of a lord needs a master.”
“I never claimed to be such…”
“You bare a royal name, don’t you?”
William shrugged, looking across the plaza. It was not a subject he had ever engaged his new friends in. It was, in his mind, a subject best left to their imaginations. They could, and often would, make of it what they wanted. And what they made of it was there for not his truth,
nor his lie. It made life simple. He could simple…exist.
“And what of you, Luca? Your brother is Lord Giovanni. Surely he has in mind for you a good marriage…”
Luca shrugged, looking at the tile floor they stood on, before looking back at William, “what is it you do not tell us? You are a mystery, William Percy. You are dressed like a lord, educated by the finest of tutors Venice has to offer, and yet…I know only what I have seen.”
“Do you need to know more to know who I am?”
“I would like to know more, so that I might judge you as you judge me…”
William stared a moment, before shrugging. There was so little to know (or share) about himself. What could they possible desire to know from…or of him.
“Tell me of your home?”
“My home?” Will raised a brow, looking at Luca curiously as he thought it over. Home… what was that really, for him? “You’ve seen my home…”
“Your home in England.” Luca pressed more sternly, all the bearing of his noble heritage coming forth in his words. Demanding that his questions were answered, not dodged.
“Oh…” Will scuffed the heel of his boot against the tile before turning away from his friend, starting back in the direction they had traveled.
“Oh? Is that all I will get. A simple, enigmatic ‘oh’?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin…”
“Try…’I was born in…’”
“England.”
Luca cuffed him before another word could be said; stopping them both short as Will gave him an insulted glare while rubbing the back of his head.
“You are insufferable. Saint Augustine himself could stand before you and demand answers and you would find some vague way to answer.”
“And just exactly do you want me to tell you?”
“Something about you…” Luca pointed out, putting a finger in the middle of William’s chest and shoving him just a bit. “This elusive subject that William Percy dodges with each chance he gets.”
There was no obvious way to avoid the conversation. Sighing William looked about the Plaza with a sort of disinterest as he thought things over. How did one describe ‘home’? And in what way did something even qualify as a ‘home’? Sentimentality had never been his strong suit.
“Can we go somewhere else?”
Luca stared at him a moment, as if assessing wither or not the moving of locations would divulge the wanted information or simple provide William with time to dodge the subject. But after a moment he nodded and they both turned toward one of the many walks that connected the city.
He led the way, winding through the streets and pathways until they found the most isolated corner possible, in the dirtiest part of the city imaginable. It was difficult to think of Venice in such a way, dirty and uninhabitable. But then, William felt no different in the murky hole than he had elsewhere. If anything it only reminded him of home.
“Well?” Luca demanded finally, breaking the long silence as Will stared at the water. “Are you ready to talk?”
He still didn’t know what to discuss. Or how to describe hell on Earth. But there seemed little option in the matter. Luca would not be satisfied until his demands were met.
“I…” he started, only the falter and stop. Luca leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited patiently. There was not real prompt in his part, save a stern stare. “I was born in Northumberland, the bastard son of a local whore and a nobleman’s son. I grew up eating scraps, sleeping on a straw mat in a broom closet with a burlap blanket. What clothing I had, I wore until it fell off, or simply didn’t fit any longer.”
That was home. England anyway.
But Luca only gave him a skeptical look, and Percy sighed in frustration. What more did he want? Flowery poems? He was in for a sore surprise if that were the case.
“It was a hole in the wall! Dirty floors, rotten chairs and strange men that paid for my mum’s company. It wasn’t even a home. It was a place to sleep that was dry. A place to hide when the town folk wanted to take frustrations out on someone. That someone was usually me…I don’ know what else you want to know. That’s all. That’s it. There isn’t anything to William Percy, because William Percy didn’t begin to really exist before I came here.”
Luca frowned, his head canted to the side as he considered William carefully, “and your master?”
“What about him?”
“How does he fit into your story…?”
“He took me from Hell, Luca.” William explained with a resigned sigh, “took me from hell and brought me to heaven.” He paused a moment, looking back at the water with a sardonic sort of smile pulling at his lips. “He saved me…” If you could call it that.
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 1,597