salvatorcsse·:
“If that is the only difference, then I have not known many men with morals, as you say,” the curve of my lip dipping further into a frown before I would return it to a polite smile. “However you would see yourself, Sir, you have shown kindness to me,” I decided, nodding once as if that helped to set it further in the stone. “It has been a long time that I have felt it, but I won’t say anymore, I think.” My head bowed again, lower this time, eyes far more comfortable to be looking at our feet than to be meeting his face. Even as handsome as it was, I was… It was difficult not to feel shame, for so long it had been on my shoulders now. I would look up as he returned my teasing, though, finding that it was easier to smile again, placing a hand over my mouth even to stifle a small laugh. “We are being terrible. I do not think these things are for joking.” Still, my tone was not scolding. It was… tasting warm and apple-sweet. Not unlike the voice of a girl I had known only seven years ago, spending one last Summer with la sua famiglia before finding herself in the divided states of these Americans. He had a nice laugh, too, I had decided. Reserved, but still very pleasant. “I will say thank you if that is my wish,” I told him, for the first time in a long time feeling a sense of pride blossom within my chest. A strange feeling when I had thought all of the petals there had withered from the vine. “È vero?” I asked, even excitedly, before I realized. “That is—- truly? How wonderful. We may yet see each other again after all.” Again, I decided something else. I would very much like that. “It would be nice to know someone…” in such a strange place to me. In truth, I wanted to go home, but… I did not have the money for such things. Only enough to buy myself this night’s lodging and some food along the way. But even that… it was hardly much.
“Grazie,” I said, quietly. And then, quieter still, “It was my grandmother’s… A very wonderful person she was.” I had little desire to move from his side, “Yours is beautiful, too, Elijah.” In my room, I sat at the edge of the bed, too nervous to sleep at the thought of going to the station tomorrow. Without my children, without my very heart itself. Could I come back if I wrote when Damon was older? Would she still know me, children’s minds were fickle at times? Worse yet. Would she feel hate for me? I cradled my head in my hands, sobbing into the night. Until the first signs of sunlight were peeking through the windows. Still, it seemed I was not finished crying for i miei figli. I would not stop until I was walking to the train, shown to the far back of the end car, the other passengers looking at me with a silent question I could read easily enough: why a woman whose dress seemed to be of money came to sit here with them. Resting my head against the cool window, still fogged with the frost of the morning, there was a pain in my chest once more… that the train had begun to move. That my son, my daughter were not here with me. I stayed in that seat, had hardly moved for the whole of the trip. As we arrived, I realized I had barely eaten, either. Again, I scoured for a nearby inn, spending my money on two helpings of soup before I realized I hadn’t had money for much more tomorrow. The fear gripped me tight, realizing I had not thought enough of these things in my bid to be free.
I would spend a night in the inn, too. Another that I was lucky enough to have money for… but then it had gone dry. The next night was spent in the cold, perched under a lamp in the dark and unfamiliar streets of this place… and it was then that I thought of Elijah. The next day, I made it to the Quarter he spoke of, asking anyone who would bother to hear me where I might find him. Though I only had his first name, it seemed there was at least one promising answer given in exchange for the last thing of worth I had. A necklace of gold Giuseppe had given me. Such a thing held no meaning. When I came to the door, raised my fist to knock, it had started to become dark. Suddenly uncertain if I even should bother him. And at this hour. Sighing quietly, I did not rap on the door, instead leaning up against it and easing to the ground, too tired to stay awake for much longer even in such an uncomfortable way.
“I’m sorry you don’t seem to have experienced much kindness. It is the easiest thing to show though I know it’s a rare gift for those to possess in these times. I never understand why, if I’m being honest,” I whispered, and I couldn’t help but want to know more about this woman who seemed far too down on her luck. She was beautiful. From her attire, she was from money. Though that meant little when it came to suffering. Beautiful women from money went through far more than most people could handle. I’d witnessed that first hand. “No, perhaps you’re right. Though it did make you smile, so I’d say that was a success, even if it was questionable in manner.” It was so easy to smile in her presence. An air around her demanding it, and I seemed all too willing to grant her this. “Yes, you can thank me for anything you wish. Though it doesn’t mean that any of it is needed,” I hummed, pleased that she seemed almost excited by the news that I lived where she was headed, head bowing gently. “You’re more than welcome to visit any time. I do live with my siblings, however, so if you do decide to visit at any time, I apologise for anything they may say or do in advance. They’re... Well, they’re a handful,” I chuckled softly, eyes trailing over her face slowly, deciding there that I rather enjoyed watching her smile. The gesture was so infectious. “Thank you. There is no backstory of my name. It’s just mine...” I hummed before watching her disappear, before following that man a few blocks before taking my fill and leaving him to bleed out in an alley. I truly believed that the moment was over. That the beautiful Italian woman I’d met in an inn near my hometown would be little more than a distant but pleasant memory that would fade with time. You could imagine my surprise, then. When a mere few days later on returning home from a council meeting, that that very same woman was outside the mansions, leaning against the doors that lead into the courtyard, a soft frown finding it’s way to my brow. “Lilliana?” My voice was soft, concerned as I moved closer to her, lower to a crouch a few feet from her side, a hand moving to rest so lightly against her forearm, an attempt solely to try and capture her attention. It was undeniably her, though she looked exhausted. Far more worn than that night we’d met earlier in the week. “What are you doing outside at this hour? Do you have no sense of danger? This place is perhaps more dangerous than most at night,” I whispered, shaking my head slowly and offering her my hand for support. “Come. Let me help you inside. You’re not hurt, are you?”
