Hide your face so the world will never find you.

[Rosa Giovanno]

She watched as he slowly grinned and showed her his new trophy for his accomplishments. The tip of it reflected the light slightly, the way her blade-fan did. But where her fan was meant for a sense of security and defense (and in fact had never been used for it), his blade was meant for quiet destruction, and she wondered how many lives he had taken, and also how many lives he had made better and protected, as he had done for her and her colleagues, with that blade. He was an assassin now, fully fledged. And he was happy, perhaps even proud with his work. Both hero and murderer. Rosa smiled, glad for him, his pride and his good deeds. But beneath her smile, she worried. Like his innocence, she knew this also would pass. She had watched many assassins go through the ranks. The glamor and shine of his armor would fade, and at some point a burden of realization would fall on his shoulders, the way it had fallen on hers and everyone else's who had anything to do with the creed. "I am proud of you, Bello." she said quietly, also so that only he could hear her. A strange feeling resided in her now as his hand returned to her waist, knowing that in a moment he could take her life just by moving his wrist. Rosa wasn't afraid that he would, of course. There was never that fear. But it was the capability that put that feeling in her. She was dancing with a killer. A polite, innocent, and perhaps even ignorant killer. It was intriguing, in a way, perhaps even a bit exciting. But also, admittedly, slightly intimidating. She danced closer to him, closing the gap between them. He was not such a bad dancer, when he wasn't concentrating on his dance steps. "How many people have you helped?" she asked, still smiling up at him. Quietly she wondered what it took to earn him the honor of wielding a hidden weapon, and what he would need to do to earn his next 'badge', so to speak.

[Rahmil Binachi]

How was your Christmas?
Rahmil looked up from her mouth full of food, and swallowed thickly so she could answer.
" _{Pretty boring up until now, wouldn't you say, Signore?} " She smiled, twirling her fork in the air so to emphasize her point.
" _Yours? "
She took a couple of other bites while waiting for him to reply, nearly finishing the plate. Well, finishing enough to where she was full, and quite tired actually.
Setting the fork down, she pushed her plate aside and took a long drink of her water, hoping to wash away any access food that might show in her teeth.
She still had some sense of manors, even if the haze was blocking most of them.
Finally, the full wave of her exhaustion hit her, and she had to refrain from rubbing her eyes so not to smear the makeup that took over her face. So instead, she propped her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands, just content to watching him.
But it was quiet, and she didn't want it to be so quiet. She was tired of quiet.
"_{Tell me a story, L'orso.} " She said with a smile, glancing at his bear head that was on the table by her own mask.
"_{Something exciting, like how you wrestled that bear for it's skin.} "

[Diego Liberatore]

"It's been great so far, thanks." he said, half telling the truth and half lying. His family was safe, which was the greatest gift in itself. But like all the other Christmases for the last five years, this one would mark the sixth which he would spend without them. They had been moved again, placed in another house somewhere even he didn't know. The last one had been close; so close that it upset him that he hadn't been allowed a visit even once, save for when he had delivered his news. The new one could be close too, but he doubted it. It would be too risky to be too close to the same spot. He was allowed to spend time with his aunt and cousins, who had roles in the Order different than spywork, so they were not as important to the Assassins and therefore less of a target risk. But still, they could hardly replace his mother and his sisters. His Christmas was lonely, if he told the truth about it. And he was expected to spend the actual day of Christmas with the Assassins, as the den would be having a party and it would be suicidally suspicious to miss it. And he was beginning to enjoy their company legitimately, instead of just playing the part. As he had tried to tell Rahmil before, he hated the war between them, and their goals were the same despite their different modes of action. But to admit this to either creed would be to make an enemy of them both, and he would become a double traitor.

"A story?" he asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "You know I didn't really wre-" wrestle the bear, he was going to say. But if she wanted a story, he would have to give it to her. Something exciting, as she said. Something interesting. Diego thought for a moment. "I met a pixie, once." he started, raising an eyebrow at her to see if she wanted to hear about it, since he couldn't think of a believable enough lie about the bear.

[Nicola Rangé]

Nicola only smiled in the same nervous fashion as he always did as she danced closer to him, which slowly faded at her question of how many he had "helped". Interesting that she hadn't said "killed", but he supposed she was just trying to be subtle. But in actuality, he never really stopped to think about how many lives he helped. He only thought of his objective, his target, and how his mission was to be carried out. He was never informed how his actions would affect the Creed, or even Italy for that matter. And that thought alone made him realize just what he was: a killer.

"I've helped... A few," he said with small chuckle. He wanted to be vague in giving her numbers. "But it's not like my actions alone have helped. I tend to get sent with others. I rarely accomplish anything on my own," he said modestly.

[Rosa Giovanno]

"Your actions alone have helped many." she said, looking up at him and remembering the night she had first singled him out, and how quickly he had completed her request, despite his inexperience. Fidello. He had fallen in the square outside the brothel, struck down by two bolts from Nicola's crossbow. Just the thought of his name brought back the memories; the bruised faces of her friends, the broken ribcages, the lack of payment and that ear-burning name, Putana. Rosa remembered how badly in shock Nicola had been after that an encounter, having officially become a part of his creed by committing the act of murder and cleaning the streets of Roma of one more filthy rat. It didn't seem to affect him so badly now, that he was practiced and it had all become routine. She wanted to see him stay that way. Unaffected, with a conscience locked away and good intentions breathing at the surface. But in her heart she knew it wouldn't last that way forever, so it was good for him to at least know the positive effects of his actions; the larger, all be they fainter ripples he initiated.

[Rahmil Binachi]

"I met a pixie, once."
She broke out into giggles, just the way he said it made it humorous.
" _{A pixie huh? How did that go?} " She said through a smile, shifting slightly in her chair to get a little more comfortable while still propping her head up.

The sudden exhaustion from earlier had slowly smoothed down into a just peaceful state. Like she could stay up for hours just listening and watching him tell his ridiculous stories. Even if it only was the alcohol that created this softer, more outgoing side of Rahmil. She was enjoying it, and it was one of the reasons that she had an alcoholic problem in the first place.
It helped her escape the depressing shell that she hid in for so often.
But it was for the best right?

[Diego Liberatore]

"Well, I'll tell you." Diego was thinking on his feet now, but an idea quickly sprung to mind, and he settled into his story-telling mode. "The first thing you need to know about pixies, is that they are very misunderstood creatures. They are always stirring up trouble, even when they don’t know it. So that's why they seem to always be trying to run away from something, or trying to catch something, or find something, or fit in. Alright." He said, sitting back in his chair and looking up, as if he had to recall something from a long time ago.

"The first time I saw her, she said afterward that she was running away from a terrible old goblin who was trying to hurt her. But while she was running, something awful happened. A stone flew up from the ground and cut her. So I brought her into my shop and tried to dry her tears and healed the wounds that I could, and found a doctor to heal the ones I couldn’t. But when I came back in, she was gone, and she left behind a bag of gold.

So of course I went out to find her, and that’s when I heard her scream. The goblin had found her first. So I fought the goblin, and quite frankly I kicked his ass.” Diego winked at her and smirked a bit, knowing that wasn’t exactly what happened. “But the pixie helped too, and it was by the way she fought that I knew she wasn’t all that she appeared to be. In fact, she had lied to me a bit, because she forgot to mention that the goblin was chasing her because she accidently tripped over him and scuffed his favorite wart. And she wasn’t just an ordinary pixie, either. She had secret abilities and belonged to a secret group, as I could see by the way she fought the goblin. I didn’t want her to just go away, because she was interesting to me I wanted to be her friend. So I lied to her, and said that I was a part of her group too so that I could get her to trust me.

And it worked. I spent the rest of the day with her, and we found a new blouse to replace the one she had torn and we went to the tavern to get a drink, and her friend found us and came with us. It was while we were at the tavern that I noticed something else different about the pixie. She seemed sad, and didn’t spend very much time talking with anyone else. And I can remember the way she looked when she tried to hide inside herself, with her head held in her hands as if she was tired, and her hair hid most of her face. I wanted to help her and to cheer her up, but I didn’t know how to do that without knowing the problem.

After the tavern, she let her friend stay in her room because he had had too much to drink, and she left him some money in case he needed it, and we went down to the docks. I had gotten my sketchbook from my shop on the way so I could draw her picture. She sat down and posed, and she actually smiled. She looked beautiful when she smiled, and to this day it is still one of the most beautiful pictures I have ever drawn. But I had to draw another picture, just so she could see herself in both lights. I drew her as she was in the tavern, hiding in plain sight, miserable and full of sorrow. She liked the first picture, but was shocked when she saw the second, and could hardly believe that she looked like that. I asked her questions, and she told me her story that she hadn’t told to anyone, about what had happened to the one she loved, and how he was killed. She was crying, and I like the idiot I am only told her I was sorry and that it would be okay. If I had known that that was her story, I wouldn’t have asked her to retell it. But in a way, somehow, I think it helped her to have someone to tell it to. At least, I hope so, because otherwise all I did was cause her more pain.

She stayed at my house that night, she in my room and I on the couch. And in the morning we went and had breakfast together in the market, at one of her favorite bakeries. Her friend met us there and ate with us, too. We had the most delicious cinnamon pastries I had ever tasted, along with coffee and tea, and things were going well. But in the course of our conversation, she said something that reminded me of someone dear, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. It brought back a memory that I couldn’t push back, and I had to excuse myself because in that moment, I didn’t want to be near anyone. I was reminded that the group the pixie belonged to was the reason I was separated from those I love, and I was torn between trying to make a friend and keeping my loyalty to my family and my order. It’s a painful position to be in, when one must always be social, and yet alone. So, naturally, I was pissed, and I went to fight to blow off some steam. But the pixie and her friend followed me there, and then to the docks after I lost my match. She asked questions to which I couldn’t give her answers, and my behavior infuriated her. So she left with her friend, and I didn’t see her for a long time.

The next time I saw the pixie was when I went to save my family. I knew that someone was about to come after them, and it was my responsibility to ensure their safety. Little did I know, though, that they had sent the pixie. She was as surprised to see me as I was to see her, but it was short lived as she realized my treachery. We led different lives, came from different worlds, and she had finally seen the truth behind my lies. She was merciless at first, to say the least. She bit me, here.” he said, unfastening one corner of his cape to reveal the ugly scar on his shoulder. “The wound was so deep and painful that I could no longer properly grip my sword, and rendered me nearly defenseless. So I pleaded with her, and she only yielded up a few hours, like a cat shifting a mouse from one paw to the other. At dawn, she said, she would send someone to kill us. I didn’t want to hurt the pixie. We had been friends, once, and even I have conscience. But when she turned her back to me, I had to make a choice. I could have killed her, or let her kill my family. Though I didn’t do either, the choice I did make was no less unspeakable. I cut her wings, so she could not fly and alert her colleagues, and I put her in a cage.

The next few days were the worst of my life, as my family prepared to flee and I tried fruitlessly to right my wrongs. I tried to treat her as a guest in our home, but I’m sure she felt more like a prisoner. I removed the weapons, but returned to her the cloak of her creed, and she ate dinner with us –although it was a failure of a dinner, to say the least,” he interjected, remembering the shouting that had taken place, “But that wasn’t the pixie’s fault. My sisters thought to make a friend of her, but I think she knew even when they didn’t that they would become young enemies to her and her group, so she politely sent them away. As for me and the pixie, she came to hate me even more, and in the end I was certain our friendship had been destroyed. I yelled at her, and cursed at her, and called her things I thought I meant at the time. These things were justly returned with more fire, and the beautiful smile I had once drawn of her was just a memory.

When we parted, I was sure my family would be safe, but my position to alert them, my vantage point among her creed would be melted down. But when I returned, I found the people unsuspicious of me, as if nothing had transpired. The pixie had kept my secret.

As before, I thought I would never see her again. Until she appeared tonight, in a mask at this very dance. Both of our identities hidden, we did not recognize one another. She actually asked me to dance, which I thought was impressive. But when she heard my voice, she fled. I followed her into the snow, and it wasn’t until she removed her disguise that I knew who she was. But she was not the tricky, impish pixie I had thought I’d known, nor was she the devilish monstrosity I had accused her of being. She was a faerie, and a gentle one. Because although her words were fierce, her actions spoke louder, and therein her true nature was shown.

Did you know that if you look into faerie’s eyes, you can see the truth? I have told a lot of lies in my life, yet I still thought I always knew what the truth was. But when I looked in her eyes I saw my reflection, and I looked like a monster. A beast. And that, for once, is the truth.” Diego nodded finally, ending his story there because the rest, he was sure, she already knew.

[Nicola Rangé]

Nicola opened his mouth slightly, about to say something, but immediately decided against it and closed it again. He only gave a short nod as he broke eye contact and looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze again. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and it pained him to recount the events of that night. He remembered everything, from the moment they met, to the moment he looked across the plaza at his first contract's lifeless corpse, his bolt protruding from the man's neck.

He remembered running, scared for his life as the guards pursued him, and then meeting up with Rosa. He remembered how much he had been trembling, forever affected by the life he had taken, and how he was sick to the thought that there would be blood on his hands for the rest of his life.

Nicola had changed since then. While he still acknowledged every life he took, it didn't affect him nearly as much as it had then. He came to a realization of just how odd it must've been for his companion seeing him changed so much since then, now a fully-fledged Assassin.

[Rosa Giovanno]

When Nicola turned his face away, Rosa's eyebrows furrowed slightly. She had meant that as a compliment, to keep him aware of the good effects of his actions. Not to dig up the past or shake loose his insecurities. So she punched his arm to get his attention; not that she could actually cause any real pain to him, but hopefully it was enough to wake him up. "Hey." she said, faking a chord of annoyance into her voice and weaving it through like thread. Acting was a part of her job, and she could do it well. "Leave it in the past. Only reflect on the good that you've done - that's what it was meant for." She reprimanded him and looked at him sternly, only to give him a subtle wink a moment later and a hint of a smile to let him know she wasn't truly upset with him. "And never, ever break eye contact. People will surprise you." She flicked his forehead playfully. He still had some growing up to do.

[Rahmil Binachi]

Rahmil raised her eyebrows in curiosity as he began his tale about this so called pixie. Though, after the intro, she closed her eyes and simply listened, picturing the story in her mind. There was a familiarity in the story, that she almost spoke out and said 'I've heard this before!' or 'I think you have told this to me already'. However, as she listened, her slow working mind began to put the small pieces together until it formed a large, blurry image.
Rahmil opened her eyes and watched him tell the rest of the story. There was a certain regret about it that brought back all the memories and emotions that she had toward him and the beginning of the night, smacking her down hard into reality. It was like an instant sober almost, at least for a part of her. Enough for her to understand.
He soon finished his story with a nod, and looked at her. She felt frozen, unsure of what to do next.
So she did something she would never do on any regular circumstance.
She placed her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze before picking it up and bringing it to her cheek. She held it there for a moment before setting his hand back down and bringing her gaze up to make eye contact.
She wanted to say sorry, but he seemed to be the type that would understand if she didn't. After hearing his side of the story, she found it finally possible to forgive him, however she wouldn't forget it.
He was a Templar, that had made friends with an Assassin. He was a threat to them both, and she was frightened by it.
So Rahmil sat up straight in her chair and sucked in a breath before announcing,
" _{I think we both need to go home, L'orso. It is late, and we are both tired.} "

[Diego Liberatore]

He watched her face change throughout the story as she listened, trying to interpret her expressions to discover if she was catching what he was trying to say. He would have understood, given the amount of alcohol she had consumed, if she simply took it at face value - as just another silly tale of fictional and entertaining fallacies, spun by the master himself. But she surprised him as she took his hand, and he knew she had uncovered the truths he was trying to tell her. Diego's eyebrows quirked as she nuzzled her face against his palm. He understood the voiceless expression, and was grateful that she could finally see everything and they could stand on equal ground again. But somehow, it left a guilty feeling in his heart, as if he had somehow wronged her. Even when done in friendship, it was still a slightly affectionate move, and he knew she would have never done it if she had been sober. He knew her affections and afflictions she still felt for her dead fiancé, and by allowing her to do that he felt as if he was trespassing. But still he returned the gesture politely, stretching out his fingers to stroke her cheek as she returned his hand to the table, though his own face had turned a slight shade of red.

"I think you are right." he said, stretching and standing up before offering her his hand to help her out of her chair. "You can stay at my place, if you like." he offered. "It's closer, and will be quieter than that tavern tomorrow afternoon." Which was when he was guessing she would wake up, presumably with a splitting headache and hangover. He knew she was an adult and could take care of herself, undoubtedly so. And yet he had a need to look out for her, as if it was his fault she had come to be so drunk, and it would therefore be his fault if anything happened to her. "Or, I can walk you back."

[Nicola Rangé]

Nicola instantly snapped back into reality as Rosa punched his arm. He let out a slow sigh as he locked eyes back with hers. "I realize that wasn't your intention," he assured her. "I just... Can't help but think about it sometimes," he murmured. "And for that, I apologize." Then his hands moved from her waist to her back, embracing her in a brief, tight hug. "I'm sorry," he echoed. As his hands returned to his previous position and he pulled back from the hug, he wondered if what he had just done was appropriate. He figured they were friends, and there was probably no harm in having a short moment of comfort.

[Rosa Giovanno]

Rosa was about to say something more to him, to discourage him further from remembering that night in such a morbid light. But before she could, he surprised her as he hugged her. She returned his embrace, closing her eyes for a moment. Maybe discouragement wasn't what he needed. She wasn't his mother, after all, or his sister. But he was just so... so... just so. He was Nicola. She didn't want so see him broken, or hurt, even when it wasn't her place to protect him. Who was she to protect him, anyway? A lowly prostitute beside a hero of the city. But she wasn't trying to save him from arrows, or shield him from heavy blows. She wanted to make sure the man on the inside was just as strong as he was outwardly, covered in armor and armed with steel. And yet, it was not her place.

Then suddenly he stopped hugging her, and Rosa looked at him as he apologized. What did he have to be sorry for? "You can always hug me, Bello. You know that." she said quietly. Truthfully, he was the only one who hugged her like that, as a friend would.

[Rahmil Binachi]

"You can stay at my place, if you like." He offered."It's closer, and will be quieter than that tavern tomorrow afternoon."


" _{And I am to kick you onto the couch again?} " She answered with a tired chuckle, taking his hand to stand up, leaning most of her weight on it.

" _{Though at least this time, we won't have a drunk Nikola to worry about. Only a drunk Rahmil.} "
She took a step forward and wobbled a little bit before regaining her balance, frowning down at her feet. As if that one look would make her balance come back. Letting out an angry huff, she took another step. This one was better, but she found herself lost. Looking to Diego, she put her hands on her hips in a frustrated manor.
" _{I guess I will let you lead the way then, huh?} "

[Diego Liberatore]

"Of course, Donna." he chuckled as tiredly as she did. He wouldn't have had it any other way, and he wouldn't have been a Liberatore if he made her take the couch. It just wasn't done.

"Yes, let's hope you can hold your liquor better than your friend." he grimaced, remembering the smell of vomit that had reeked through her room in the tavern that night. She was much smaller than Nicola, and he doubted if she had the bodyweight. Hopefully the food she had eaten had reached her stomach in time and had not been to late, but as she stood unskillfully, that hope seemed faint to him as well. "If you feel nauseous you have to let me know." Diego said as he took her arm, guiding her to the exit of the church. He was no doctor, but he had been drunk enough times himself to know the tricks of the trade to combat the awful side effects of irresponsible drinking. Hell, he was half-Italian, after all. It came with the game.