exsiliumlogs | [ open ] freedom hangs like heaven

Date & Time: anytime in September
Location: all the places
Characters: Cesare Borgia and YOU
Summary: Cesare knocks on certain people's doors or otherwise trawls the city, all formats are fine by me!
Warnings: n/a

Fortune favors not the bold, but the early bird, the night owl, the one who sleeps not. She favors those who know precisely where to aim before the enemy even rouses himself from sleep, from pleasure. It takes only one shot to make or break one's fortune, yet there is so little time and so much to learn, too many red herrings to eliminate.

Only five more years until his twenty-sixth year.

Cesare spends so little time in his room when he isn't bathing or sleeping (sadly still a necessity), usually returning home as the night sky grows brighter and leaving just before noon to start his nocturnal wanderings again. But when he is home, he keeps to himself, silent as a ghost and as absent as if he isn't there at all.

He gives training only the requisite number of hours, because strength and force will never be his advantage. This he already knows. Better that he deals in stealth and information, in learning more about this world to figure out which strings to pull if he were to secure his and his mother's freedom. The Initiative's intent to overthrow the tyrant is a fool's errand so he would lend it little assistance unless the mission keeps him in their good books or aids his eventual escape.

Otherwise Cesare can be found in the city, cloaked in black velvet with the hood drawn up to hide his face. But even his attire would easily betray him, since his vanity would not allow him to dress in rags to hide himself better, and the sword on his hips gleam too brightly against the dismal surroundings. His hand grips the hilt warily as he moves from one shop to another, seemingly in search of something. He would be careful not to reveal his intent while there is another customer in the room, pretending to browse the goods on display, unless they catch him in the middle of a discussion with the owner. Then they might overhear words such as maps and pearls and bullets being discussed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Chivalry thrives by social pressure in his time. ]

It can get one's foot broken faster as well if one knows not where to step.

[He certainly does look the part, all things considered. Makes sense.]

Oh, I know someone who's a near testament to that. [She almost scoffs, opts to shake her head instead.] Better safe than sorry, for you?

Always.

[ He holds up the book and starts unwrapping it. No matter that there's a light drizzle about, he's too impatient to wait. ]

I must thank you for your help.

Anytime? I'm a big fan of making people nervous. [A little smile as she teases, moves to reach for her bag and pull out an umbrella. Least she can do - she's kind of curious herself, and the contents are no good ruined.]

What is it, anyway?

[ Cesare lets the wrapping paper fall along the path though he takes greater care when prying the book open. The pages are made of cut-up pictures rather than text, mostly faded, but he seems happy at the find. ]

Mappa mundi. A map of the world.

[A whistle as she sees the contents, brows lifting a little as she steals in a few glances, longer than she'd admit to.]

Well, I'll be. How'd you ever learn about it bein' in that shop?

There are a handful of ways of making people talk.

[ His glance indicates that he decides those ways don't bear reciting, but he notices her interest and holds up the book for her to take if she wishes. ]

Been around more than once, huh? [It doesn't need an answer, with the way she quirks a brow.

Still, she takes the book with a small nod and 'thanks', just fingering the pages with a light touch. Don't want to damage anything, of course.] S'nice. Real nice, if I can say anything. That all it for, just the general area?

[ He's been around the block for someone his age, and for a cleric. ]

It could be a start. Gathering intelligence. I am unfamiliar with these lands, these times.

[Well isn't that a little scandalous.]

You need some help, it's always a little fun watching someone pick things up. [A small gesture of a hand before she goes back to looking through pages.] Anything I could try and answer immediately?

[ The name is Borgia. ]

Immediately? Perhaps your choice of clothing to start. It is uncommon for women to be wearing trousers.

Oh? [A little pause as she looks down to her attire, and then a small shrug.] Maybe back where you're from, but where I came, being in a skirt or dress would've gotten me killed a lot quicker.

You're old-fashioned like that, huh?

[ He frowns. He doesn't take kindly to being called old-fashioned when he tries to keep up with all things contemporary. ]

Where I am from, skirts and dresses can be as lethal as swords. When are you from?

[Whoops.]

Can they outrun infected in them, how about other people? I could be convinced otherwise if I saw that. [Shift in her posture.] 2033, more or less. You?

1498.

[ He gave another man the wrong year before, but let them be confused. ]

We have different enemies. Outrunning mine will bring you no victory.

You're a ways from home now, huh? [A whistle before she brows lift at the idea- shame any cultural references would probably be lost on him.]

Well it's a good thing that your enemies aren't mine and that mine aren't yours, huh?

A pity, actually.

They say the enemy of an enemy is a friend.

And some of the better friends are your enemies.

Really though. If you wanted to make friendly, all you had to do was ask.

That simple?

[ He's smirking though. ] And all the friends I had before were dearly bought. If I had known.

Here, for you? Just might be. [She turns her eyes forward, head shaking despite the curl of her lips.]

If you'd known though, might have saved yourself a nice coin or two.

A nice coin or two to spend on friends who come at no cost. Would that make any difference in the end?

That's more a personal question, I figure. Preference on where you want your money to go. [Pause.] If anything, I'd be good with just a name.

For a lady, gladly. You may call me Cesare.

Quite the gentleman, aren't you. [She nods her head.]

And you can call me Tess.

I do try.

[ Still he hesitates. ]

May I call you Tess?

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