lost in translation [open !]

[Johannes[Inactive]]

Florence was very similar to Amsterdam. It was busy. It was loud. The only differences were that Jan couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying and he was boiling in his robes. He had already given up on wearing the hood after nearly being blinded by sweat and his sleeves were awkwardly rolled up to his bicep. It was beyond his comprehension how these Italians walked about with heavy clothing on. He was tempted to just take everything off but that would only attract even more attention. He was already a foreigner in strange clothing; he didn’t need more eyes on him.

Jan wished he could find somewhere to hide from the midday sun. He had tried but every building he had entered had chased him out with a heavy string of Italian that was too fast for him to understand. That left him wandering the streets and often stumbling as walking became difficult as the heat became more unbearable. Jan was almost completely focused on the heat and he almost walked past the horse without having a miniature panic attack. Too bad his happened to notice it at the last minute.

With a gasp, Jan scrambled away as the horse trotted on by and the rider shot him a funny look. In the process of fleeing, Jan tripped over the curb and into a man with a rather colorful uniform. The man started to scream at Jan in loud and angry Italian he had no hope of understanding. It wasn’t until the man drew a sword from his belt that Jan finally understood this man was a soldier.

Instead of brandishing his sword and fighting, as he was often encouraged, Jan whirled around and booked it in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long to lose the guard, once he was out of sight Jan jumped into the nearest unattended cart. Through the hay, he could vaguely see the guard run down the street and past the cart, still screaming loudly in Italian.

Jan waited until he could no longer hear the guard before hauling himself out. Before the chase, he was already sweating and overheated. It was worse as hay settled into uncomfortable places, tangled into his hair, and was plastered to his skin. The run had given him more than few cramps in his side and Jan felt for his water skin but when he opened it, it was bone-dry. “Stront.” He muttered under his breath.

Jan managed to stumble at least a few yards before collapsing in a small spot of shade between two buildings. None of the passing crowd seemed to pay him any mind. He could only hope that no one attacked him while he was vulnerable.

Reluctantly, Jan started to pull off his armor piece by piece, anything that kept his robe to his skin. Once it was removed, he pulled the robe off over his head and sighed with relief. Without it, the temperature seemed to plummet. He still felt ready to pass out but at least, for now, he could recover.

[Rosa Giovanno]

It was an exceptionally warm day, as if August had taken a vacation to November. It was days like this that made her appreciate what she was, at least for the dresscode. Rosa leaned against the wall of the brothel, fanning herself daintily and watching the crowd. It was too hot to work today, and thankfully she wasn't truly in town for that. The only reason she had left Roma was for business of another kind, a little less disdainful and a little more noble, for once. But she couldn't go to that destination until nightfall, and decided to spend her day as she would at home: fishing around and panning for gold.

The gold she saw wasn't the gold she had been looking for, but still it caught her eye. Or rather bolted past her and demanded her attention, fleeing and eventually escaping pursuit. She watched him curiously as he hid in the hay, and then miserably tried to adapt himself to the heat. Yellow stalks poked out of his even yellower hair, made him look even more strange and foreign. His skin paled in comparison to the darkened Italians, and his clothes were lighter. Rosa whistled to him lowly to get his attention, and clapped her hands almost sarcastically at his stunt. "Well done, Bello." she called to him from across the street, pushed herself away from the wall to encourage him to come closer. But it was she who walked closer instead, slightly intrigued. "Where are you from?" she asked when she was close enough. He was much taller than her, and she had to look up almost an entire foot just to see his face properly. Rosa took a step back, feeling perhaps a bit too small beside him.

[Johannes[Inactive]]

Jan had most of his armor off and even started to polish the front of his spaulders when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He struggled to climb to his feet but gave up when he noticed the person approaching him was a woman.

She didn’t seem to carry weapons and she did not advance in a way that showed aggression. Jan had learned long ago not to underestimate women; he had two older sisters to teach him that but this one didn’t seem to be a threat. He also noticed she was clapping and he realized, his already red facing becoming darker, she had seen the messy escape.

She spoke and Jan grimaced, guilt washed over him. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying and she seemed to be expecting an answer. That had been the one hitch in the plan. His parents had expected Jan to learn languages as his sisters had, quickly and fluently. Unbeknownst to them Jan had struggled with Italian and pretended to excel when they asked about it.

He really should have paid his tutor more attention. He had a person that might actually be willing to help him but he was unable to ask for it.

He stood, leaning his back against the wall. His legs were still weak even without the heat from his robe or the weight of his armor. “Mi scuso, ah.” Jan started but struggled for the next words. “I speak little Italian.” He shrugged, his mind running a thousand miles an hour.

It tried to conjure the words out of thin air but that was proving impossible. “Aqua?” He asked pathetically. That was Latin for water; it had to be close enough that she would understand. Honestly, he should be able to take care of himself but so far, he had failed miserably. He had half a mind to return to Amsterdam but that would surely disappoint his parents. That was the last thing he wanted.

[Rosa Giovanno]

He really was a curious sight to see. Sweat made his clothing stick to him, and pieces of straw still clung to his neck. It was hot, but Rosa didn't particularly think it was that hot. She would have thought that his blonde hair would have made him cooler, but he just looked like he was suffering. His face was flushed with red, his expression rather dismal.

His accent took her by surprise, and it almost made her laugh to hear it. Not that it was funny, but she just hadn't been expecting it. She should have, but for some reason she hadn't. "It's ok." she said, wondering if he would even understand that, and bent to help him carry some of the armor he had discarded. By the emblems on some of the pieces were familiar to her, but she didn't say anything. It wouldn't be worth having him confirm what she suspected -that he was one of the Assassins. She doubted if he could if he tried.

So she led him back to the brothel and set his belongings on one of the sofas in the lounge, where she motioned for him to stay. Some of her 'sisters' looked up as they came in, staring at him with the same curious expression that Rosa initially had. Some of them tried to fan him and cool him down, with the ulterior and not-so-motherly motives of earning a few coins. Some of them took to asking questions casually, trying to start a conversation with him. Rosa just let them do their thing and went into their humble little kitchen to get him some water. She found the biggest mug they had, and the water wasn't exactly cold and probably wasn't the cleanest, but it was water. She brought it back out and handed it to him.

[Johannes[Inactive]]

She seemed surprised by something and Jan hoped he wouldn’t scare her off. He knew he was rather tall, all day he had towered over most of the crowds. He may finally have some help but he was only going to scare her off. Jan was honestly surprised when she looked to be on the verge of laughing. Did he say something wrong? Even so, she responded with a familiar phrase, she seemed to be accepting his apology. Jan finally smiled, glad that he at least made a lick of sense.

The smile dropped the minute she bent down and picked up some of his armor. He couldn’t have his armor stolen. He had some florins but not nearly enough to buy brand new armor. Jan was also aware of the Templars in Florence, if the assassin emblems were recognized, he would be in some serious trouble.

Either the woman didn’t notice or didn’t recognize them as she started to walk away. Jan scrambled to pick up the heavier pieces and trailed after her. “Dank u.” He said first in Dutch but bit his lip as he tried to remember the Italian. “Grazie.” He finally choked out and smiled.

They reached the building and when Jan was allowed inside, he gave a sigh of relief. He was finally out of the sun but the woman waved for him to stay. As soon as she disappeared into the next room, he was swarmed by the other women and Jan realized he had been led to a brothel. They all spoke in rapid Italian and he only assumed they were asking questions that he was unable to understand, much less answer. It was almost as uncomfortable as the heat. “Neem me niet kwalijk, alsjeblieft.”

He started to pull away from the group of girls when the woman returned to the room, carrying a mug. She handed it to him and he peeked at the liquid inside. It seemed to be plain water and when he drank some, he couldn’t stop. It was exactly what he needed. “Grazie.” He said again, still hoping it was the right word. He really struggled to put together his next sentence. “My name is Jan, what of you?” He tried and hoped.

translation notes|
"Dank u." - Thank you.
"Neem me niet kwalijk, alsjeblieft." - Excuse me, please.

[Rosa Giovanno]

Rosa watched him as he fumbled out more of his foreign words as the girls came to inspect him. It was remarkable how much he was like someone else she knew. But perhaps it was the language barrier, and not his dislike for their occupations. "Relax, Bello." she told him. "You are in good company."

They laughed as they watched him guzzle down the water. He looked like some kind of parched animal, the way he gulped it as if he had been deprived for days. "Jan." she said, trying his name but unconsciously saying it wrong because of her accent. She pointed to herself, "Rosa." she said, and then introduced some of the other girls who stood near. "We are courtesans." she said slowly, as if he didn't already know. "We can help you around the cities." she pointed to herself and her colleagues, then to him, and tried to draw a circle in the air that in her mind was supposed to mean 'around the cities', though she wondered if he would understand.

[Johannes[Inactive]]

The woman called him a name once more, Bello. Jan had half a mind to ask what that meant but he knew that the chance he would understand the answer was slim. Instead he smiled as he was addressed; glad to have someone that wasn’t trying to earn his coin. Once he introduced himself, the woman repeated him name incorrectly and then said her name, Rosa.

Jan brushed some of the hair from his face and hid his disgust when his fingers came away damp. “Rosa.” He said and tried his best to mimic her accent, which failed miserably.

Rosa continued to talk and Jan searched for words that he could understand. She introduced the girls around them and the following sentence made sense except for the last word. Then again he assumed it meant prostitutes and hoped that he wouldn’t insult them later if he was wrong.

Rosa continued to make gestures and Jan managed to cling to a few words. The word ‘cities’ in particular caught his interest. If Rosa and her girls knew the cities well, they could possibly help him find fellow assassins. That is, if they were aligned with the assassins. Back in Amsterdam the Assassins had a strong alliance with the city’s thieves and prostitutes. They protected each others’ interests. Jan could only hope that it was the same case in Florence.

“Do you know moordenaar?” He said the Dutch word first, unable to remember the Italian word. Then he was struck by an idea. He scrambled to reach his bracer which Rosa had put on the sofa. Once he grabbed it, he held it out to Rosa and pointed to the Assassin symbol etched on the front.

It was then the word finally came to him. “Do you know assassino?” He asked hopefully, smiling eagerly. This could finally be the break he had been searching for.