Assassin's Creed: Chronos (Ezio x OC)

60 - Young Blood II

They were simple enough. You were to compete for the Golden Mask—shown off rather unenthusiastically by Dante—which would provide entry for one person to the Doge's personal party, just as Teodora had mentioned. Also as they'd been told, there would be four games, the first of which the man promptly explained: it would involve the ribbons. Each lady in the district would have a ribbon, and it was the mens' job to obtain them. At the end, whomever had the most would win. Simple enough. And with Catherine keeping others busy and stealing ribbons herself, it would be even easier.

"Try not to get too into it," the redhead mused as she pulled out her ribbon and tied it to her belt. The other women had them tied in various other places, but how she had it would do.

Ezio grinned impishly, "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Please. You belong to me and only me. I have no need to be jealous," Catherine snorted right back and gave his rump a good slap. "Get going, lover boy. I'll steal ribbons from other men and ladies. Find me when you need more."

"Will do, my love," he purred in reply, stealing her hand to give it a quick kiss, and then he was gone; vanished into the crowd.

Catherine took a moment to pause, breathing in slowly and collecting herself. Her anxiety briefly returned and she swore eyes were on her. For once, she wasn't entirely wrong; when she looked, she caught men—and women—looking her way. She knew interest when she saw it, but there were some who were shocked, or perhaps appalled. Well, that was fine by her, and, steeling herself, she turned her attention to the interested men.

Ezio had once told her that she had a particular smile that slew him every time; made his heart race, and his desire grow. She knew which one it was after a game of trial and error with him, and so curved the corner of her mouth slightly at the men, tilting her head just slightly so her nape was better exposed beneath her locks. She even added in a playful beckon of her finger before turning and making sure her ribbon showed. She liked to think it worked. She also like to think she wasn't about to have a panic attack wondering if this was a stupid idea or a great one. Her heart was racing so fast she wasn't sure she could do this.

However, when the first man came, beckoning her with platitudes and promises of pleasure, her anxiousness eased. Oh, it had worked. Ezio wasn't the only one who desired her, it seemed, and she found that amusing. She wasn't used to it, truthfully. She knew other men had been interested, but were thwarted by her lover, and since their officially coupling she'd not had one make a move. That, and she'd been told most would be afraid to approach, anyways—she looked more likely to kill them than kiss them. Ezio, of course, didn't mind, and neither did she, but this made things new. Fresh. Fun. Such sweet fun. Perhaps that was cruel of her—to enjoy toying with the men; to whisper succulent enticements; her own promises of pleasure. All the while she took what ribbons they had, if they had them, anyways. It was easier than she thought. In fact, all it took was gliding her hand across their torso while the other slipped into their pouch, and then she was gone, ribbons safely hidden away.

The men never found her again. She made sure of it. Always a new target; always a new "toy". She felt a little bad thinking of them like that, but she would recall Leonardo's words then, and her own resolve. She was to enjoy this night, and so she pushed her guilt and worries and fears away. Instead, she succumbed to the revelry and laughed, flirted, caressed, bat eyelashes, and all that was needed to fill her hidden pouch with the ribbons. Only when she felt she'd had enough to ensure Ezio's victory did she depart for an alley out of the way. She knew the young man would find her there—he could always find her—and so lounged against a pile of crates, counting off the thin fabric.

"Quite the haul. You were quite... busy," a familiar voice rumbled from the dark. When she looked up, he emerged; tall and foreboding and, dare she say, frowning? The notion made her smirk and she couldn't help the satisfaction stirring in her.