Post by Deleted on Jan 20, 2015 18:07:40 GMT -5
The summer heat was like a hammer, even as the sun a molten red-gold in the sky, slunk over the horizon. The nights here were cooler, but only just, and now that the peace talks were (mostly) over, Demetrio found himself less able to distract himself from the reality of the heat. And Anzio was fairly boiling despite the traversable river on whose banks in squatted. Truth be told, Demetrio was ready to be done with Anzio, and back to Duefuemi.
Or onto Bordelaix. He corrected himself irritably, rolling his shoulders in a vain attempt to get his shirt unstuck from his back. He missed Duefuemi, at least, he missed the climate. He did not miss his Father. Or Enrico either, fool that his middle brother was. Demetrio growled irritably as he stalked inside his small apartment, the open window which overlooked the seemingly sluggish river offering little noticeable respite from the heat. It was the waiting that was getting to him. Demetrio Montefiore was a man of action, there was no solace to be had in study, no ease in rest.
It did not help that the families future was so uncertain. Caterina was to wed a Deliambre. And he suspected that a match would be made for Elisabeta in Bordelaix. But what of Joanna? Would she follow Piero into the Church? Or would she be seduced by the Deliambre Lord who had visited her in the night? That memory was particularly irksome to him because it had been so... proper. Cesare had followed all the rules as Civilization saw them. He hadn't seemed the dispassionate automaton that Demetrio had always assumed his family to be. Abruptly and with an inarticulate cry, Demetrio slammed the side of his fist against the wall, hard enough for the pain to jolt him out of his own reverie. Wincing ruefully, he flexed his hand slowly, testing to see if he'd injured himself. It did not seem so, but it was clear to him that he needed to get out of the Inn.
Snatching open his door he glanced both ways down the hall, catching sight of one of his Guards by Niccolo's door. Calling the man down, Dem retreated into his room. By the time the guard had reached him, he had already belted on his swords and was pulling on his boots.
“I'm going out Jacapo.” he told the guard when he appeared in the door. “And no, I do not require an escort. What I do require is for you to rouse a few more of the lads to keep tabs on everyone. We're just sitting here, waiting for... i'm not sure what. It's making my back itch.”
“Like as not sir that's just sweat drying.” Jacapo offered conversationally, and to his credit he did not quail when Dem caught him in a flat eyed stare.
“It can't dry Jack, it's still running.” Pulling the tail of his shirt off his back, Demetrio checked on the cinqueda that he wore just above his waistline, and then he ran a hand down to the daggeer he wore behind his right foot. “Just see to the Duke and the family.” He said shortly, waving absently to excuse the guard before taking the left and descending the stairs.
The Docks of Anzio were... functional, which is perhaps the best thing to say for them. They weren't anything fancy, timbre pylons and rough planking. The smell of the river mingling with the familiar stink of pitch and old fish were cloying in the evening heat, but at least they were practically empty and relatively secluded. No one was here who did not have a cause to be, either business or in Demetrios case, the pursuit of solitude.
The docks in this regard were ideal he hadn't seen anyone on his way here, and there didn't seem to be anyone to be seen. As night settled over Anzio, Demetrio finally wandered to a stop. Another cursory glance reassured him that there was no one around. Drawing a deep breathe and exhaling it sharply, the Captain of the Severino Ducal guard drew his off hand sword, examining it for a moment before he began to work through various sword forms. Unconsciously, he began with some of the earliest he had learned, and continued moving on toward those he learned later. As had happened to him, after a while, he'd added the second sword, and so he drew it as well and continued to work. The only sounds as he moved small exhalations and the scuff of his boots on the planks of the docks.
@callistadeliambre
Or onto Bordelaix. He corrected himself irritably, rolling his shoulders in a vain attempt to get his shirt unstuck from his back. He missed Duefuemi, at least, he missed the climate. He did not miss his Father. Or Enrico either, fool that his middle brother was. Demetrio growled irritably as he stalked inside his small apartment, the open window which overlooked the seemingly sluggish river offering little noticeable respite from the heat. It was the waiting that was getting to him. Demetrio Montefiore was a man of action, there was no solace to be had in study, no ease in rest.
It did not help that the families future was so uncertain. Caterina was to wed a Deliambre. And he suspected that a match would be made for Elisabeta in Bordelaix. But what of Joanna? Would she follow Piero into the Church? Or would she be seduced by the Deliambre Lord who had visited her in the night? That memory was particularly irksome to him because it had been so... proper. Cesare had followed all the rules as Civilization saw them. He hadn't seemed the dispassionate automaton that Demetrio had always assumed his family to be. Abruptly and with an inarticulate cry, Demetrio slammed the side of his fist against the wall, hard enough for the pain to jolt him out of his own reverie. Wincing ruefully, he flexed his hand slowly, testing to see if he'd injured himself. It did not seem so, but it was clear to him that he needed to get out of the Inn.
Snatching open his door he glanced both ways down the hall, catching sight of one of his Guards by Niccolo's door. Calling the man down, Dem retreated into his room. By the time the guard had reached him, he had already belted on his swords and was pulling on his boots.
“I'm going out Jacapo.” he told the guard when he appeared in the door. “And no, I do not require an escort. What I do require is for you to rouse a few more of the lads to keep tabs on everyone. We're just sitting here, waiting for... i'm not sure what. It's making my back itch.”
“Like as not sir that's just sweat drying.” Jacapo offered conversationally, and to his credit he did not quail when Dem caught him in a flat eyed stare.
“It can't dry Jack, it's still running.” Pulling the tail of his shirt off his back, Demetrio checked on the cinqueda that he wore just above his waistline, and then he ran a hand down to the daggeer he wore behind his right foot. “Just see to the Duke and the family.” He said shortly, waving absently to excuse the guard before taking the left and descending the stairs.
The Docks of Anzio were... functional, which is perhaps the best thing to say for them. They weren't anything fancy, timbre pylons and rough planking. The smell of the river mingling with the familiar stink of pitch and old fish were cloying in the evening heat, but at least they were practically empty and relatively secluded. No one was here who did not have a cause to be, either business or in Demetrios case, the pursuit of solitude.
The docks in this regard were ideal he hadn't seen anyone on his way here, and there didn't seem to be anyone to be seen. As night settled over Anzio, Demetrio finally wandered to a stop. Another cursory glance reassured him that there was no one around. Drawing a deep breathe and exhaling it sharply, the Captain of the Severino Ducal guard drew his off hand sword, examining it for a moment before he began to work through various sword forms. Unconsciously, he began with some of the earliest he had learned, and continued moving on toward those he learned later. As had happened to him, after a while, he'd added the second sword, and so he drew it as well and continued to work. The only sounds as he moved small exhalations and the scuff of his boots on the planks of the docks.
@callistadeliambre