knightsoflegend | italy ♔ a promise lives within you now

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italy ♔ a promise lives within you now

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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[ that at least manages to draw rafael out of their little love bubble, and he chuckles at her nervous exhalation, squeezing her hand and pulling her forward a step to the mic, as he leans forward to say: ] I am glad you could all be here to share this special night. Grazie a Angelo for this opportunity. [ his focus shifts back to buffy, and he raises her hand to his lips, eyes never leaving her face ] And to this woman, for all she has inspired me.

[ As he begins to address the audience, Buffy tilts her head to watch him fondly. Letting him pull her hand to his lips, she then steps in to slide her arm around him, a wide, personable smile on her lips. She glances away from him at the crowd, offering a humble acknowledging gaze across the audience and inclining her head, bending slightly at the knee in a grateful curtsy (cha 19).

Then, she twines her hand with Rafael and tugs him towards the edge of the stage, waving to excuse them. ]

[ antonio's voice comes over the speaker again, a flurry of italian as he introduces the next set in their return to a regularly scheduled program. rafael goes readily along with buffy, heading towards the exit in warm silence, pushing open the door for her. ]

[ She leans into his side, biting down on her lip as she tries to work through the fluster response that she's still processing. It's all very, very real now, walking through the quiet hall that leads back into the lobby of the theater, and she's trying to figure out what she can even truly say in the wake of it. All she knows for sure is that she doesn't want to let go of him for even an instant. ]

No one's ever done anything like this for me before. [ She takes a moment to qualify that. ] At least, not that I can remember. [ It seems like as good a place as any, now that they're really alone and she can form words beyond goOD THIS, to convey precisely how much it means to her. ] I mean, obviously not specifically like that, but I mean ... [ She looks up at him, gaze soft. Her next words come as realization and acceptance. ] You know what I mean.

It is the very least of what you deserve. [ there's so much conviction behind the words that it's clear he doesn't intend for that to be the last such thing he does for her ] Perhaps now we might pass through Piazza San Marco. If you would still like.

Honestly?

[ Lovestruck and dopey, Buffy calmly shakes her head. ]

It doesn't matter where we go.

[ She stops in the lobby to raise her free hand to the side of his face, all moon eyes and warm fuzzies. ]

This night's already perfect. As long as I'm with you, I'm just gonna keep with the basking.

[ he stops, winding one hand around her waist as he leans into the touch, her words clearly moving him. he turns his face to kiss her palm and murmur: ] Sei così bellissima, mia rosa.. [ his hand wraps over hers, pulling it down to his chest, with the effect of drawing her closer, and his eyes drop to her lips for a lingering few moments, before he chuckles and adds: ] I am only glad you have put up with me this long.

[ Hella will save (27) keeps her from laying one on him, but she definitely sees the way his gaze drops, understands the passion in his words even if she doesn't understand the meaning of half of them. Swept up, that is to say, in all that he is and all that he offers her. ]

If it's all the same to you, I kinda wanna put up with you a little longer. [ She steps in closer, breath shortening as they come to stand only inches apart again. ] Really wanna.

[ his hand slides up her back gently, the heat from his palm tangible through the fabric of her dress. ] I will consider myself lucky for this, then. [ with some apparent effort of will, he pulls slowly away, tugging at her hand towards the doors ]

[ She reluctantly breaks away, all goofy smiles, and follows after him out the door. Following on the heels of her awe comes a swarm of giddy butterflies fluttering out of her stomach into her chest. Even under the dark of the venetian night sky, she glows like sunlight, a bounce in her steps as she click clacks down the cobbled streets with him. ]

Piazza San Marco. [ She concludes finally, doubling back a bit in their sappy conversation. ] You said it was better at night. I wanna see. [ The little crinkle of her nose says that her desire to see it is now born more out of his promises of its beauty by night than any tourist trappings. ]

[ with a grin, he leads her in a beeline for the landmark, knowing just what streets to cut down, finding it relatively quickly. ] What did I tell you? [ ahead, the plaza opens up before them, softly aglow with numerous lights that cast an enchanting glow over the square. nighttime diners sit at the outdoor cafe, and music plays at the far end, where people are dancing to celebrate what appears to be a wedding. ]

[ Dazzled by the lights and the glow they cast over her and Rafael as they step into the square, it takes her a minute to really take a look around (spot 25 which is A TWO ONE THE DIE girl is sprung). But she does look around a moment later, brightening as she points down the promenade to where the wedding takes place. She draws in a hushed, excitable breath. ]

Look! [ And she seems to find joy in their happiness, a stark contrast to the saddened, wistful smiles she'd been able to offer her own friends as they celebrated their own marital bliss. She bumps an elbow into Rafael's side to draw his attention to where she's pointing, then she releases his hand to step out, hands lifted slightly at her sides to spin under the glow of the stars and the ensconced archways. Laughter bubbles out of her after a single spin and she stops to face him, holding her hands out. ]

[ his grin widens, watching her, until he's laughing too, and he reaches out to take both her hands, drawing them around his waist, pressing close to her. ] It is beautiful, no? [ his voice is soft, and despite the way he's asking about the scenery, he seems fixated on the beauty of something else entirely. ]

It's everything I've ever wanted.

[ Enraptured, she looks up into Rafael's eyes, pressed flush against him. ]

It's more. It's ... incredible.

[ It's almost like she doesn't just mean the scenery anymore either. And with another pitiful will save, she leans up onto her tiptoes to catch him in a kiss that she takes her time with. It's gentle but lingering, all parted lips and promises as her fingers curl up to grip the back of his suit jacket (dex 17). ]

[ there's a clear desire for more in the way his lips slide so responsively over hers, hands pressing her close, keeping her there. a contented sound issues from his throat, another signal of his eagerness, and then one hand moves to tangle through the back of her hair in case she has any designs on ungluing her mouth from his too soon. if he's concerned on any level about celebrity pda, it seems to have completely slipped his mind for now. ]

[ Somehow, Buffy has become the flying buttress of self control in this relationship (will 27). She carries on like this with him for a few minutes, years of mounting passion searching for an outlet, but she's the first one to break the kiss all the same. By the time she does, she's breathing hard, a short, soft laugh in her heady exhale.

Rafael might be able to forget the crowd, but no matter how many times she slips back into this indulgent fire they've started, she keeps coming back to reality. Whether the people milling about them realize he's Rafael Giovanni or not, it's edging on the wildly inappropriate.

Her eyes lift to search Rafael's, dark and wide and wanting. Men have waited centuries for a woman to look at them like Buffy looks on Rafael now, all muzzled desire. When she tries to open her mouth to speak, though, the words die on her tongue, throat drier than the Sahara as all her nerve leave her (will 15, one shy of crit fail …). The words don't come, though the fact that she wants to say something is easy to discern as she starts and stops according to hitches in her breath.

Finally, she drops her gaze, wussing out of whatever it was and turning away from him, pacing a few steps forward and fidgeting with her hands in front of her. She draws deep breaths as if trying to rein herself in, but no matter how full her lungs get, each breath is still hurried. ]

[ he lets her go for a moment, but after the space of a few breaths, she can feel him step up behind her, where he lifts one hand to reverently push her hair back off from her neck, delicately enough to send chills coursing through her. ] It is getting late, carina. [ there's no concern in the observation, but there's definitely something else layered in the velvet tenor of his voice (cha 24 kill him), especially as he adds: ] Perhaps we should...

[ When his hand grazes the back of her neck, Buffy's eyes flutter shut, and she inhales sharply. If there was ever any uncertainty about why she'd pulled away before, it'd be immediately clarified as her shoulders loosen against his touch instead of tensing. She seems to melt beneath his touch, which is precisely why she'd forced herself to step away from it before anything could escalate.

Except.

She turns to look up at him, trepidation evident in the way she swallows. Parsing his meaning because she was on the exact same page (nat 20 wisdom check jesus), Buffy nods slowly, every movement counting. Walking into this with her eyes wide open. Months ago, they'd smothered this very flame, narrowly avoiding what might have been an awful mistake of timing. Now, she's not caught up in the throes of some reaching kiss, not teary-eyed and desperate for the shadow of some feeling from him. They're not pouring out the darkest parts of themselves: they're standing in the light.

Reaching out, she slides her fingers between his, sealing their hands together. ]

Head back? [ She offers with the quirk of one eyebrow. ] I was just thinking the same thing.

[ his fingers tighten in response to hers, dark eyes searching her lighter ones as if to make certain that he's reading her inner monologue right, and that it's in the same place his is. he seems satisfied with what he sees with a 23 wisdom check of his own, and with the tiniest, sexy smile, he nods his head in the direction of the street that will take them back towards their hotel. ]

[ With that implicit understanding between them, the walk back to the hotel is all the heart-pounding, throat-stopping, breathtaking adrenaline dump of suffering the anticipation of what they both know is coming—like waiting in line for Space Mountain but more. Fever spreads under her skin, first in her chest, creeping up the back of her neck, then all the way out to her fingertips, molten and alive.

And she can feel him—in holding his hand, of course, but more than that. She's never been so conscious of his presence beside her, the space he takes, the way he moves. She gets the lobby door for him, never letting his hand slip hers lest she lose that blessed contact, and joins him in a beeline for the elevators. ]

[ ♬ possession - sarah mclachlan

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving them alone for the short journey up one flight. she would feel rafael's eyes on her, tracing across her features beside her, his hand moving to the small of her back. he still doesn't say anything, and the hushed air of expectation between them only serves to make their hyper-awareness of each other more pronounced.

the doors ding open softly, and he gently urges her ahead of him. as he pulls out the key, he gives a sort of adorably abashed smirk and remarks hesitantly: ] ... I must admit, I am glad things went so well. I was afraid I may have to sneak away to call the hotel staff back before we returned, if they did not. [ with that strange comment, he pushes the door open, moving aside to gesture for her to enter first.

which immediately makes the context clear. the lights in the room have been dimmed, candles lit on the vanity and window sill, rose petals lying in scattershot disarray across the bed covers. a chilled bucket sits on the table with a bottle of wine inside, two glasses beside it. he waits until she enters before following in after her slowly, quietly closing the door and turning the key over in his hands as he waits for her reaction. ] I hope it is not too much.

[ Confusion draws deep lines in Buffy's forehead at his remark. She glances up at him as he pushes the door open, fixed on his inscrutably wily expression for only a moment longer before the dim glow of the candlelight draws her attention inside the room. This motherfucker. Slow steps carry her inside the room, and numb fingers reach to pull her purse strap over her head, discarding the bag before she crosses to the middle of the room, taking in each detail and allowing them all to add new facets to her flustered sense of wonder.

She looks back at him then, in the doorway, slack-jawed and humbled by the display. Nothing she can remember would ever make her feel worth this. Every time she thinks he's outdone himself, he goes a step further, as if doggedly encouraging her to believe it fitting. Insecurity at constant war with the gale force of his attentive care.

The door shuts, and she shakes her head. Though she grapples for a firmer, more confident reply about how perfect it all continues to be, she falters (because ur mod doesn't matter when you roll under a 10 on the die in these circumstances shut up). Never for a moment does she doubt the nature of his motives. There's no hidden agenda here, nothing like that, and yet she finds herself asking, simply, impossibly, ] Why are you doing all of this?

[ It's a plain, breathless lack of understanding. Or perhaps, more aptly, a breathless inability to see herself for how he sees her. ]

[ with a nat 20 sense motive, he reads all of that in her eyes, and his face half crumples for a moment in sympathy, as he murmurs: ] Because carina-- [ he moves forward, depositing the key on the dresser, so that as he reaches her he can take one of her hands in his, reach up to stroke her cheek with his other palm, staring down at her with that smoldering intensity ] All this time that you profess to have had these feelings for me, you have had to come second to something else in my life. I would not have you feel, for even an instant, that what I say to you now is anything but the first emotion of my heart. [ he cups her hand with both of his and places them on his chest ] I could have told you before now, si but always the place and time were wrong, were so much less than you deserve.

Buffy... il mio cuore batte solo per te. [ his expression warms further and he smiles very slightly, his words a rush of sincerity. ] I love you. And I do wish that future with you.

[ As he brings her hands to his heart, she flattens her palms against his chest, lets the strong, excited beat of his heart pound out his certainty—as he professes, for her. Electricity sparks beneath her skin, and as she looks up at him, she's sure her own heart will burst in her chest, it expands with such happiness. Joy swells to a crescendo in her eyes, battling the formation of happy tears that never fall. Instead of allowing them, she smiles—beams, really (will save 31).

For the better part of the past few years, she'd accepted that maybe Rafael would never say those words to her and mean them like this, like she's wanted him to. It was only recently that it even became a real possibility to her, even for all the hope she's sustained. But she trusts him with them now, is floored by their intensity.

She glances excitably over his face, taking in every detail, aglow with meek gratitude. Rather than struggle to convey the depth of her appreciation for the care he takes with her, she settles for the simplest, clearest communication of her understanding. ] I love you too. [ She moves one hand up to snake around the back of his neck, thumb brushing along the column of his throat up to his jawline as she adds. ] And you are every bit the man that I've always known you to be.

[ Perhaps underwhelming, were it not for the depth of her faith in him these past years, for the role it has played in bringing them to this moment, and to him in the more general sense. ] Tonight's been perfect, better than anything I could imagine. [ On the heels of his sheepish concern that he might have overdone it, she feels the need to assure him of that with every ounce of certainty in her. ] Not just because of — [ She tears her gaze away to glance up at the room, towards the balcony, to indicate all of Venice. ] All this. But … [ Bright, wild green eyes settle on him. ] Because it's with you.

[ After a beat, she quips, ] "All this" is really helping it along though.

[ his eyes spark with amusement at the joke, and with pleasure at her assessment, but he doesn't laugh, doesn't fall into banter. instead, his eyes drop inexorably to her lips, the hot light of his gaze gaining in intensity, as he eases her backward with slow, deliberate steps, one hand settling at her waist. the air between them seems suddenly devoid of oxygen, as if it's all been burned up, and she'd find herself bumping against the leg of the chair, pulling her up to a stop. he reaches past her, prompting his chest to pull up flush to hers, and there's the rattling sound of the wine bottle being drawn out from the ice. a smile finally breaks the strength of his gaze, one eyebrow lifting as he retracts the bottle to where she can see the label, turning it in his hand to display it to her. ] The Rossi's own stock. With their compliments.

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