#ofimaginarybeings

Clarice had tried all day to subdue her anxiety. Arriving in Florence had been overwhelming enough: getting to know her new city, her new house, her new family was a lot to take in in itself… but the thought of meeting Lorenzo for the first time after they’d been marriage unnerved her the most. That they’d been married by proxy made it even stranger. The first and only conversation they ever had before kept coming back to her memory: I told him I would never be wed to anyone… and yet here I am, his wife. God, I hope I’ve done the right thing. Bianca and Lucrezia had introduced her to this new home and made her feel as welcome as they could, but they could only assist her so much when it came to adjusting to all these changes. 

Her private chambers were empty when she entered. Clarice had been a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be there to receive her - how much easier it would have been - but she knew that Medici business could wait for no one. So after a maid had washed and combed her hair, she climbed on the bed for a moment, thinking. There were so many roles that she’d have to play now… Wife, daughter and sister in-law, a mother at some point in the future, a Medici most of all. It still felt strange to her. Marriage ought to be the natural fate of an Orsini, but she never readied herself for it: the future that she’d planned couldn’t have been more far removed from this life… but she’d agreed to this, and having given her word to her family that she would wed Lorenzo, Clarice refused to look back.

So she tried to make herself comfortable. The mattress was warm and cozy against her back: certainly a good start for her endeavor. The bed seemed to surround her limbs in a maternal embrace and Clarice sighed, closing her eyes. She didn’t know when she’d dozed off once they were open again, but the knocking on the door startled her into an abrupt wakefulness. She combed her fingers through her hair, fixing her veil over her head. Her hands patted the fabric of her gown as she stepped closer to the door, making sure that her appearance was properly fixed before she could open it.

At last he was there, and all she could do was blush, sending her gaze down.

“Lorenzo…”, she said, chuckling timidly. “You were right about this, after all…”

He turned and walked in the opposite direction, his long black trench coat sort of billowing behind him, and found himself at a bar called Rousseau's. He needed a drink and maybe he could get some slaying of his own in tonight. He sat at the bar and used a rear view mirror to scan the crowd behind him. After a while, the bar tender put a drink in front of him. "I didn't order anything yet," he said to her politely. "It's from the gentleman over there," she informed him. Gentleman?

Angel followed the bar tender's nod of a gesture and locked eyes with someone with Spike's build, brown hair, and a scruffy beard. He hated situations like this, where he had to turn down someone who was interested him. It was awkward. HE was awkward. He turned back to the bar tender and was about to send the drink back, but she'd walked away.

That's when the stranger in question sat down next to him. Angel couldn't help noticing the smug smile on his face. That made this only slightly easier. "Uh, listen..." Apparently not. "I, uh, appreciate the gesture and I'm sure you're a nice guy, but um... I don't....I'm not...I'm not here to.....I'm not, uh, going to be here for very long, so, uh...." Good lord he hated this.

@ofimaginarybeings ( dorian ) asked : “I’m gonna be honest, I wasn’t focused at all on what you said earlier and didn’t get any of the things you needed from the store… Sorry.”

if he was stuck here then he was pretty sure that it was this guy's fault. who's else would it be? he was the only one who could see him. the only one who would sit with him and tell him about what happened back in the war. which he was still having a hard time buying had happened over two hundred years ago. it was hard to buy anything he told him. the war over, he was dead, all a lot of bloody nonsense. it had to be. especially if this bloody idiot was the one with all the powers. to keep him here, too? well, that might be the case. but if he started thinking like that people would think he was mad. and then what? well, then he would be no use to anyone. not that he was much use here. where ever here was. maybe it was the future. now, he hated thinking like that. but mat had never thought himself to be an irrational man. and there were a lot of things that pointed to dorian not lying to him. what would he get out of it? the guy didn't seem to want anything? and besides he didn't think that someone like him was actually bright enough to come up with that kind of scheme. and why should he?

so he had to do something. a test of some sort, maybe? see if the guy was lying. so he sent him to the store. told him he needed some random thing. and why not? dorian had all but dragged him from his rest. if he really was dead. light, was he? but that was the quest for the day. well, it had been until not even twenty minutes later he comes back saying he couldn't get any of the things he needed. interrupting what he was trying to do here. this new world was different, bloody mad, that's what it was. the clothes were different, the music, the people. dorian had told him that this was what he had died for. just like that. like he should be proud of the world around him. a part of him, just a small part, feels an ache of pride. maybe if dorian wasn't the first person that he had met since he had -- what was it he had done exactly? the worst part about the possibility of this being the future wasn't the change of pace or style or food or even the strange technology that they had somehow managed to come up. dorian thought that he could stay in front of that bloody box all day just because he didn't know what in the light it was. at first. but he had figured it out, hadn't he? the worst part about any of it was that he was dead. he was dead.

"i don't see why no store would carry pepper cakes. you said that your stores had everything."

your  name: cesare borgia

your age:  20-something

your perfect date: honestly somewhere we can get to know each other

make out in private or in public?: both. the latter depending on the place

do you like to cuddle?: I do.

tell me something about you: I make a great Valentine, trust me