Rafael Giovanni (
romanticidal) wrote in
knightsoflegend2015-04-22 01:28 am
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italy ♔ a promise lives within you now

♬ mia per sempre - josh groban
WHO || Rafael, Buffy [Closed]
WHAT || After months apart, Rafael and Buffy celebrate the end of his tour with a private trip to Italy
WHERE || Italy
WHEN || /truck drives by, blaring horn
HOW || Actionspam.
It hasn't been an easy few months, but then again, it hasn't been an easy few years. Following the night of the Grammy's, Rafael's returned to his tour, aspiring to use his concerts as a chance to try and warn people of the dangers inherent in listening to Blade and company's music, even at the risk of looking like a crazy person. It wouldn't be the first time the world thought it, alright. Meanwhile, Buffy's been dealing with the fallout of what the Mind Master did to Finnick, and by extension, Myri, trying to be there for her friend in every way she can. It would be easier for both of them if they had each other to lean on through it all, but they had to rely instead on numerous phone calls and memories of one night that finally offered them both some hope just when everything had started to seem more impossible than ever.
They also had the promise of this to look forward to: a planned trip to Italy that Rafael insisted be just the two of them, once he was finally free again. He's arranged to meet her at the Galileo Galilei International Airport in Pisa, and when she gets out, there's some Italian chauffeur guys holding a sign that says "Summers".
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But I thought... it would be nice for you to know these things.
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Well, she made it through her teasing with a smug, matter-of-fact smirk, but now that it's over she has to glance out the window to restrain her ridiculously sappy stares. ] Kidding. Sort of. [ More seriously: ] I'm glad that you've got stuff you wanna share.
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While I-- [ he chuckles a bit, almost awkwardly but it's ridiculously endearing anyway as he reaches one hand up to drag his fingers through the back of his hair, saying with self-deprecating humor: ] -- have... many more years under my belt, for one, years that are a part of who I am. And while you know some of those stories, some of those people, they are often ones that are connected to darker times in my life.
[ he glances over at her, as if to see how she's taking all this ] There have been better times, too.
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the first time ever
that, being a half-elf, Rafael is older than he looks (wis 15). When he says "many more years," he's using a different scale than hers. So she looks at him with a curious sort of interest, finally pushing through the giggles and butterflies of seeing him again to actually consider that he'd had something particular in mind in inviting her out here. ]
How many years are we talking about exactly? [ Yes, hello, Buffy will take "things you shouldn't have to ask someone you've known for three years" for $500, Alex. Of course, the question is part of an implicit answer—her interest speaks for itself. She'd like to know about those good times, too. ]
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Then again, I'm operating on best guess here, so ... [ Like. Who let her into Nightscape ? ? ? She was 20. Anyway, she makes a vague gesture outward with her hands like who's she to fucking talk. But she leans her head back against the head rest and tilts her face in his direction, thoughtful. ] When's your birthday?
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[ She says it all cavalier like it's not the most fucking beautiful countryside she's ever seen in her life. To be fair, she's in a legitimate conflict between staring at the beautiful countryside and staring at
Rafael's face.
The decision doesn't exactly makes itself when, to her, both are captivating. ] January 19th, by the way. [ She looks over at him. ] One of the Knights who knew me before had to tell me, but ... It's one more thing than I knew before. I blew out my first birthday candles this year. [ And then, in case he thought she'd let it go: ] How do you fit forty candles on a cake? [ And at first, she looks genuinely concerned with it, but eventually, a wide smile pulls over her features and she looks at him fondly, giving away the joke. ]
Sorry. Keep going.
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[ a heavy beat, before he finally says: ] We age differently, you know. Than humans.
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A beat later, she adds matter-of-factly; ] But don't think I didn't notice that you waited until I was trapped in a car with you to break the news that you're totally ancient.
[ Maybe if she had a higher wisdom check, she'd know to not then continue kidding. As it stands, she decides announcing it once seals the deal. ] We should get you a cake this year. I'll figure something out for the candles.
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[ She says it like she's imparting some kind of age-old wisdom onto him ? ? ? after making fun of him for being way older ergo worldly. Ok, Buffy. ]
Okay. Age differently. So, tell me about Rafael Giovanni in ... [ Her brow furrows. Fuck math honestly. ] What, the '70s? Oh my god, please tell me bell bottoms came to Tuscany and you have pictures.
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How's he doing—Vittorio? Have you reached out to him at all?
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Iscariot is an old organization, and they have a long memory. Perhaps we have at least bought some time before they will care to trouble us again. They are not fools, and I cannot imagine they wish to risk more of their agents after losing their best. Not so soon.
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[ She was more trying to find out iF THEY WERE BEING FRIENDS OK. But that's some people's version of friend, so she's not judging really. Besides, Rafael did murder him, to be fair. She moves on smoothly. ]
With everything that's been happening, I didn't even think about following up on Iscariot. [ Or maybe she was just hoping that'd be the end of it. ] I'm glad you did. [ She drops her head briefly, thinking maybe she doesn't deserve someone to be watching out for and trying to protect her from any retribution for murdering Anderson, but she's just going to accept it and be grateful instead of discouraging it. She looks over at him. ] Where's Nellethiel now?
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Vittorio's family moved to Roma when we were twenty or so. Three years later, my father took us to Venezia. It was when he died and my mother's health started to fail that Nell's family came to live with us, two years later. We all shared a small flat, and Nell's parents sent her to school with me, hoping that she could 'straighten me out' from all the trouble I had been getting into.
[ he makes a humorless sound, resembling a laugh ] She was always very observant, Nellethiel, and it was not too long before she figured out why I was skipping school. I confided in her about the Movement, and while I tried to convince her to join, she would not. She thought I was going to get myself killed. But she kept my secret, from both our families.
After we finally graduated from school, her family continued to stay with us, as we tried to get by on the little money I was making working in a cafe, and occasionally getting paid a small sum for performing here or there. But even between our two families, we barely made ends meet. We could not afford the help my mother needed. As I have told you before, we could do nothing for her in the end: no cleric or doctor to ease her pain. [ he shakes his head, hand gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly ] All I cared about after this was the Movement, about justice for my father, and as I spent more and more time with them, I came to see them as the only thing that mattered. I quit the job I had, became more and more active in their work. Nell's family was ... very worried about me, but I pushed aside their concerns, started traveling with the Movement so that they had one less mouth to feed, so that I could do more for the Resistance, and that they could be safe from whatever dangers may fall back on my head. I would visit, often, but... [ he frowns, visibly upset with his past self for the way he left them, dismissed their fears. ]
I was about ... thirty or so, when Nellethiel met Giorgio Rossi, and the two were married within the year. Sometimes two people can find such an easy road to love, as simple as breathing in their next breath, and that was the sort of love they fell into. [ while he clearly approves, is happy for them, he also sounds as if that kind of love story is somewhat bewildering to him, so far outside the realm of his own experience that he's not sure what to make of it ] When they decided they wished to start a family, the two of them moved back here, to Tuscany, where they thought it might be safer to raise children.
They were right. I cannot imagine a better place to grow up.
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For him, some might call it a choice instead of a destiny, but it's only a choice in as much as a calling can be, as much as one can say it wasn't his circumstances and knacks that set on him on an unerring path toward it. He no more chose to face the struggle of growing up an elf in Italy than she chose to be called as the Slayer, and there's something equitable in the difficulty of ignoring the role either plays in their lives.
It pulled him away from his family, from his friends, even from Jade and Vittorio eventually. As much as it kills her to consider, she also can't help but realize that maybe that's why they've found ease in one another. Instead of these duties pulling them in opposite directions, it's precisely what brings them together. One more thing they have in common, one thing they can understand about each other that others can't in the same way.
A wistful sort of smile draws up the corners of her mouth as he segues into the tale of Nell's love and of Giorgio. She can't imagine something like that—falling in quickly, yes. Slipping into it without hardly realizing it and then being suddenly there, yes. Her love for Rafael feels as natural to her as breathing, but loving him may well be the hardest thing she's ever done. ]
Is that why you came here instead of Venice? To visit Nellethiel and Giorgio?
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Here? [ Her voice squeaks slightly. ] Now? [ A desperate whine for waRNING ?! She looks back out the window with a changed perspective, suddenly awed in a different way. Slowly, she reaches up to try to stealthily untangle the hair tie that holds her messy bun atop her head (dex 14). She slips the hair tie onto her wrist and starts tousling fingers through her hair like it'll somehow make her look more presentable. A moment later, she blurts out, ] What if they don't like me?
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It doesn't entirely assuage the nagging pressure, though, and after a beat, she adds, ] I feel like I should have brought something. Like a bottle of wine, or— No, they don't need wine, they own a vineyard. Something potted and alive, potentially flowery. People usually bring gifts for this kind of thing, right? [ Or maybe what she should be asking is whaT KIND OF THING IS THIS. ]
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And then she runs it by blurting out a flat question as it finally sinks in, ] You told me them about me?
[ A beat later, she blinks, realizing that may be the dumbest question she's ever asked. ]
I mean, of course you told them about me. [ He's bringing her to their house. This is only a surprise for exactly one person. ] Sorry. What did you tell them about me? [ Is that a thing that people ask because she's asking. Secret organization problems. ]
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