secondchances | return to paradisa

Considering the plan is to learn how to survive, they take what they can carry back to the castle. Over the next days, between cram sessions about farming and trips back to the city to look for anything useful, Steph relaxes. Their food situation is decent enough, they have shelter, and nothing's really happened. Stephanie rediscovers her room in the castle, in one of the towers, and even finds her journal--but the pages are faded and worn, and separate from the binding when she opens the cover. Oh, well. At least she has her clothes.

It's Ezio's room they stay in. It feels more comfortable to her. Stephanie's sitting on the floor one evening, digging through a bag she'd found in the city, apparently forgotten by the door of a home. She's found some little tools in there that might be useful with no rhyme or reason as to why they were in this bag, especially when she reaches in and pulls out a little wooden box.

"Well, this is kind of sad," she says, tipping over the box into her palm. "Look. They kind of look like wedding bands."

Two simple, golden rings.

"I'm going to tell myself these were purposely left behind."

While they spend much of their days together, Ezio tends to do the recon on the castle on his own; sorting through people's rooms and belongings might have been something to do in a pair, but Ezio is far less bothered by the bones of the people left behind watching him as he works. It's quiet work he does as respectfully as he can, glad that the names on the doors are so long-gone that he cannot tell one from another, but he's happy to take on that kind of work if it spares her a little heartache.

He's recently returned from one of those little trips when she starts going through things, and he looks up from where he's unbuckling his boots for the night to see what she's got. Rings. Small enough to not be burdensome to take, more than worth their weight in sentimental value –– but there's no way of knowing.

"Perhaps they forged prettier ones with stones," Ezio suggests. "No need for such simple alternatives."

"I like that story." She smiles, turning the rings over, checking for any sort of inscription under the band. Nothing.

"These are pretty, though. Stuff doesn't need to be all blinged out in diamonds and rubies to be pretty."

He watches the back of her pretty blonde head, nudging off the heel of his boot and shoving it aside. It’s nice to see her caught up in something like that, simple but romantic. He’s taking notes.

“I did not imagine you were one of those girls dreaming of her wedding ring,” he remarks, playful as he shucks off his vest.

She's already comfortable, in a loose t-shirt and shorts, and shrugs.

"I'm not. My tastes just lean towards... inexpensive. Not so flashy. It was probably the sentiment behind these rings that made them special, not the cost or appearance. That's how it should be."

“Taste is one thing,” he replies, coming up behind her and stooping to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “But a man who labours to afford some precious gemstone does not have less sentiment for his beloved.”

The kiss makes her smile, and she tilts her face up for a proper one on the lips.

"True. Good thing you're off the hook though, huh?" For numerous reasons.

He lingers just to kiss her again, and then he settles on the floor with her. He sprawls out on his side, propping his head up on one hand. But he's not quite relaxed; her assessment catches him off-guard, and he responds with a vague surprise.

"I am?"

"... yes?" She laughs, glancing over at him before putting the rings back into their box and setting it down on the floor in front of him.

"I thought that'd be a relief."

He raises an eyebrow at her, smiling faintly as he takes the box to look at it himself.

"I do not recall ever expressing dread at the prospect of giving you a ring," he replies.

"No, but it's all kind of..." She motions vaguely, not wanting to say pointless, but it's written on her face. "Unnecessary?"

"Few things are truly unnecessary in the world, dolcezza, and I do not think sentiment is one of them," he says. He looks at the rings for a moment; they are simple, but then again, so are most rings that do not belong to kings or empresses. "If you do not care for a ring, so be it, but it is certainly not unnecessary."

"Think I stepped on the romantic's toes, there," she says after a moment, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Ezio."

He hums, a little off-hand –– he's not about to admit that he's a little wounded at the prospect of being blown off for such a harmless thing, but it's still there. She is often quick to squeal and delight over the old-fashioned romance she finds endearing, but sometimes he thinks it's just a performance to her.

"No need to apologize," he says. "I suppose it's just a difference of opinion."

"Guess so. But," she says, pushing the bag aside so that she can flop onto her side in front of him, "I think it matters to you more than you'll admit."

And so it's worth talking about.

"We joked about it before, marriage--does it bother you that I just joke about it?"

Ezio gives an amused little huff. In his mind, this is a done deal, forever, no other women for him. She can joke about it all she'd like, but he's already serious.

He reaches out and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"I know you Americans approach marriage as lightly as a dinner invitation," he replies. "So even if it matters to me, it's difficult to be bothered by what's in your nature."

"And it matters to you, even if we're stuck here, alone? Just us?"

He's not exactly wrong with that little jab.

That gets a noteworthy frown.

"It is not a stage performance, Stephanie," he remarks.

Getting somewhere.

"I guess for me, it's not something I ever really thought about. With anyone." Even at her most disgustingly day-dreamy with Tim. Marriage and futures go hand in hand, and she never really thought that far ahead. "And I've never really seen a good marriage, come to think of it. Just the stuff in books and on TV."

"Surely with all of the people you've ever met, you have seen some pleasant marriages," Ezio replies.

He doesn't believe all of them are good, certainly, but when he thinks of his parents, he knows it can work with even the slightest bit of effort.

"I don't know a lot of married people. My mom's marriage was, uh, not great. Big surprise there." When your dad is a piece of shit, that's usually the case. Stephanie rolls her eyes in favor of actually getting upset about that.

"Not that I think you'd be anything like that, though. Definitely not. That's just sort of the perspective I'm coming into this with. Doesn't mean my perception of it can't be improved."

He sits up a little more, leaning up on both elbows.

"It will be different with us," he promises. "It matters to me, but if you do not trust that or feel ready, I will restrain myself."

"You and I have known one another longer than most people are engaged. And really, what's changed?" She's here in his room, like she usually was. "If it matters to you, then it has to matter to me, too. So it does, now. Okay?"

“Va bene,” he agrees. Ezio puts out a hand to take hers, to pull her to him. “And for what it is worth, I think you would make a devoted wife.”

She takes his hand and moves in close, kissing his cheek.

"I'm glad you think so. And it's... really sweet, I think, that marriage is important to you. I didn't know."

sometime later

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