Beginnings of a second Darla story: Working title is "Donna, Ombra".
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The girl makes her way up from the river, walking north across the Ponte Vecchio towards the Piazza della Signoria.
It's busy, and loud, and no one seems to see her. At first glance, this seems peculiar; she's a very beautiful girl. She's all fine bones and sleek pale hair and the kind of sensuality that ought to stand out, even here. Yet she moves, unseen and unacknowledged as the moonlight itself, past the stalls on the bridge, past the African vendors with their Prada and Gucci knockoffs artistically arranged on thin sheets of plastic on the lungarno, through the crowds of tourists who gawk at the ancient bridge and the river otters swimming in the Arno.
There is no moonlight, not at the moment. It's at the dark phase, which suits the girl perfectly. She has begun her evening on the south side of the river, in the long shadows of the Piazza Santo Spirito. She's eaten there, and paused to wash her hands in the running water of one of the old lion's head fountains. The water is cold, and very clear. She cups her hands and scoops some into her mouth, rinsing her teeth, gargling, spitting out the residue.
Across the Ponte Vecchio, up the covered Piazza degli Uffizi, stared down upon by the marble heads of long-dead icons, out into the enormity of the Piazza della Signoria. She stops there for a moment, in front of the enormous statute of Neptune with its flaunting penis and well-carved rage, her tongue flicking out to catch the scents on the night air.
Perfume, sweat, hair product. Bats, wheeling high above the city, in and out of the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. Cookery; everything from ribbolata to fresh gelato. A stale reek of grappa; someone had spilled a glass.
"Una sera bella."
The voice, from just behind her right shoulder, is hoarse and a bit too knowing. She turns her head. The man at her side is dusky, black-haired and black-eyed. He looks like an Etruscan effigy come to life, a golem, an animation. She lets her eyes imprint him, and decides she likes what she sees.
the rest of what I've got so far
"This girl has the most amazing toes," Ethan said between gasps. "Would you like a turn?"
"Not at the moment, thank you anyway."
Ethan studied him out of the corner of his eye, then waved a hand at the girl on his back. "Domo, Midori-chan. Tajitsu, jiyuu."
She climbed down with a smile and another bow. "Hai, Etan-sama, tajitsu." She went to the other side of the room, past the large free-standing bathtub, dropped her towel casually and pulled on a bright yellow kimono with printed peacocks and a pair of wooden clogs. With another bow and bright smile, she glided out.
Ethan sat up and studied Giles. "How bad is it?"
Giles stared at the wall behind Ethan, absently tracing the wood grain with his eyes. "There was a
Turok-Han. It killed Annabelle."
"Oh, fuck." He looked his age for a moment. "Rupert, I am sorry."
"Yes, well, I think we knew that there was the possibility that something like this could happen--"
Sighing, Ethan got to his feet, took Giles' bundle and put it next to another next to the wall, then pushed Giles towards the tub. He tugged on the kimono. "Off."
"Excuse me?"
"Take it off or I do it for you. The bath's nice and hot, and you look like you need to relax."
Giles slowly began unknotting the sash. "If I relax I may fall asleep."
"I won't let you drown."
He remembered why he wanted Ethan with him during this mess, because here was someone he didn't have to be strong for. Even someone he could go so far as be weak with. Slowly he let the tension fall from his shoulders, along with the kimono. Ethan guided him to the stairs next to the tub, helped him up and into the water, then lowered himself into the hot water with a sigh.
Midori-chan.
Am I the only one that read this as 'Midochlorian'? Yes? Excellent. Carry on.
Elena, stop playing with the free samples so you can keep your fanverses separate.
Heck, I was expecting people to make jokes about fruit-flavored liqueurs.
connie, are you implying that I am a fan of PM and AoTC? You impugn my honour at your own risk, sirrah. Must I demand satisfaction?
Elena, thank you so much for your comments. It's good to know that a fic works the way in which it's intended. I'm especially relieved to hear that I got Xander's character right. If I have time, I'll post the thing to the lists this evening.
Deb, I love the idea of Darla wandering through Florence in the evening. 'Tis yummy and sensual.
connie, I look forward to seeing more of Ethan and Giles. I especially liked Ethan's reaction to the news of Annabelle's death.
Anne, do you have other not-slashed Xander? And, if you do, can you direct me to where I could read it?
You impugn my honour at your own risk, sirrah. Must I demand satisfaction?
Um, will you be satisfied with more Ethan and Giles as they relate their adventures? And possibly some V!Giles when I get home?
Nay, I would ne'er impugn the honor of one so noble, so stalwart, so steadfast in pursuing their chosen goal of helping the weary sufferers find relief.
