Assassin's Creed: Chronos (Ezio x OC)

47 - A Message

March 10, 1481

Venice, Italy

Catherine sighed with relief as she used the cloth to dry the last of her hair, or at least got it as best as she could. It would be a few hours before it fully dried, but that was good enough, so she wrapped the red locks clumsily in the fabric and then headed for the bed where clothes had been set out for her. Sadly, they weren't her own, but rather "donations" from the Thieves Guild since their luggage was still at Leonardo's. It was to be procured soon, but for now, her odd, tattered leggings, vest, and undershirt would do. She was only so thankful she got to keep her boots and gloves, otherwise she was going to feel completely naked. Fontina had kidnapped every other part of her wardrobe, after all—determined to clean even the armor. At least Ezio had been forced into the same treatment, and the redhead had a feeling he would look even more hilarious than she would in the get up.

"Hopefully it fits," she hummed as she held the vest up and then turned towards the vanity mirror in the room, sizing it up slightly. She paused, though, when she looked at her reflection and a notion came to mind. She bit her lip slightly; not one to really give in to such indulgences, but she'd never really given herself the chance. So why not?

Letting out a deep breath of air, Catherine set the cloth aside and ventured closer to the mirror. There, she gazed at the visage of a young woman, still in her prime. She was only twenty-four, after all. Her physique reflected it as well. Her frame was firm and toned with hard muscles forged over the long years of training, and her belly was tight and flat. She knew for a fact she would be considered fit and attractive in her time. Although, she had to note her chest was rather lacking, but she supposed that wasn't so bad. She could see the weathering, too, however; the burden of the life she'd committed to. Gently, she touched at the scar on her collar. It was so old now; a light pink against the tanner flesh. Other scars lined along the edges—one on her arm from the Pazzi's attack on the Medici; another on her leg; one across her belly from their journey to Forli; other, minor ones that took a keen eye to find. They were there, though, and she knew those were not the hallmark of a woman who had seen much battle—that is, a woman who did not look much like a "proper" woman at all.

"But... he doesn't care about that," she mumbled aloud, and was surprised she had. She then became surprised to be surprised, and shook her head to clear away the jumble. Although, there had to be merit to it. If Ezio didn't like women who didn't act like what was supposed to be a proper women, then why would he flirt with her? Why would he make her think he loved her? So, surely he did. He had to.

She was going to find out soon enough, anyways. She had told herself—and Leonardo—she would tell Ezio the truth about her feelings, and she always did what she could to keep her word. Besides, it would be better if she said something. She could finally stop living in the anguish of not knowing and move on when he rejected her.

'Or... be... extremely happy,' she added quietly as she retrieved the vest and undershirt and slipped them on. Luckily, they fit, and so, too, did the pants. It would do, and once she grabbed her hat on the way out, she finally left the room she'd been given for privacy.

The home belonged to Fontina, although they would be given their own quarters some time later that day. It was a small place, but made homely and filled with wonderful smells. The woman who owned it was apparently the "mother hen" for the Thieves Guild, and she provided clothes, food, and more. All were grateful for her help, and Catherine could see why. She was like Annetta back home, although much older and more likely to say a biting rejoinder to put saucy young men who were called Ezio in their place.

Speaking of, the troublemaker in question was lounging rather comfortable on a couch in the main room, although he did sit up once he noticed her coming through the hallway. Like her, he'd taken a bath to be rid of the water's smell, although it lingered. Still, it wasn't as bad, although it helped he looked as amusing as Catherine hoped he would in his borrowed clothes. He pouted when he noticed her grinning and leaned back with a huff.