Okay, so... you have been away for a while now...
     In the time you have been gone, the Della Salute has been adopted, Venice has experienced only three floods so far this year, and there is gossip! God's bells, the gossip! Paolo, the Guardian of Venice, the Dour Doge of the Waters, has beaten the lover of his wife Rosalie to a pulp, threw the two of them out of the house -- naked, for all the neighbors to see! -- moved himself to Cosimina's, the woman (and wife) he could never stand, and now the coven of fate witches and the gondoliers are disavowing Rosalie the Witch.
     And there is even talk of banishment...
     Oh, it is enough to give a person a headache!
     It must be why her shades are pulled down, her windows shuttered, the daylight pouring within the chamber subdued and tea filling a cup instead of espresso. Albizzina wanders from the backroom to the front room, kettle in hand and pouring yet another cup of orange tea. In it, she grinds nutmeg and drops three drops of vanilla into it.
     She is most subdued today, in her black pedal pushers, her golden sandals, her off-the-shoulder black blouse (gypsy frills), and three concentric circles dangling from her ears. She shuffles to a row of masks and picks one out for herself -- a gilded cat with jewels around the eyes -- and promptly sets it on her face.
     There. That is much better. But it will make it hell to drink the tea. Albizzina props the mask up so that it rests on the top of her head, the cat face peering up at the ceiling...

     The world shimmers. A flood of energy, untethered, unpracticed.
     "Bion giorno, Albizzina," comes the voice with familiar tones but languid cadence. Cesare stands near a window, light behind him. A pathway from there to hear, walking on sunbeams. "A lovely morning," he says as he unattaches himself from his spot with a movement of his hands and twist of his waist to look about the room. Cesare exhales deeply as the energy that exploded, settles.

     "You have not been here long enough, amice, to say such things. Tea?" She looks up and she smiles, uncurling herself from her seat and moving to the kettle. "I am having orange with nutmeg and vanilla. Would you like something less frilly?" She plucks sparkling bits out of the air, then her smile warms to see you. "I do not remember such sudden visits before. But it good to see you," and she comes to you for a hug.
     "Just the other day," her hand lands on your arm and she is turning away again, "...someone was asking about you, how you were doing. So," she glances back to you with a tinkling of earrings, waiting for your word on tea. "... how are you doing? I will say you look good, but always for you this is easy, with those eyes like a gypsy."

     He smiles, the blush always easy to come to his cheeks. Granted, he's not been seen much in the last couple of years, but it's good to know some things don't change. "I think I'll forever wander," Cesare murmurs, returning the hug and nodding as he looks to the tea. "Maybe it is my lot in life."
     Cesare walks towards the stove, his body a little straighter, his walk more polished. At attention. "I apologize for the suddenness..." he exhales, "I am...well. I don't know how not...to be such." Granted, he knows it doesn't make sense, but he's more than likely talking to himself with that.
     "Who was asking about me?" he wonders.

     "Cosimina," she notes with a certain raise of brows and a pouring of the cup. There is an orange slice for you and she brings it to you, her mask still propped up on the top of her head like forgotten sunglasses. "And Paolo, poor Paolo... the man is so dour, I think the universe is starting to listen to him and to despair."
     Albizzina takes a seat, her usual position on a stool with one leg crossed over her other. She makes a wave of her hand, It Is Nothing Do Not Think Of It. "Better to wander like a river or the wind than to forever be in one place," self-incrimination perhaps. "And you may drop in suddenly any time, you know this. I miss you. No one wants to talk books and puzzles. It is all cinema here of late. Drama. Theatrics. But you must tell me... how are you and your lover? How are things in France? Have you missed us terribly?"

     The distance is there. Cesare, but he's not himself. Formal. As if he has something to say, but isn't. He takes a near seat and looks at the arriving treats. "Books and puzzles sound nice. As for my other...he is well, thank you for asking," he says genuinely. They have been a universe of two. And why not? For ages, he has been a universe of one with only occasional forays to others. The shop and the woman he's with is one of the handful with whom Cesare ever associated. "France is France, but I have missed many things, I think. And that's why I believe, I am back."

     Now she registers surprise. She is the only fate witch who registers true surprise, as she is not a practicing witch. Of course. "You are... back? To stay?" Her surprise dissolves into something between curiosity and concern. "Nothing is wrong, I hope... you seemed so... I had never seen you that way before. I hope that things between you are not strained..."
     Albizzina tips her head, looking to you with a look that, were she a practicing fate witch, could be concerning. But she is studying, it is only that. She gave up her cards, she passed on her fate they say, and her Fate to someone else. "Venice has missed you, I can say this. Our family of magicians. It is not the same without you here... but I am not going to be so selfish as to not ask why France has not ...worked..."

     Cesare was staring at the orange when he realizes what's in error. "Oh, no..." he smiles, "...things are fine. And we are fine, he and I. I have been primarily gone, yes, but I think I will be here a little more often now." Because I can. "It's nice of you to say that I have been missed. I think though that you all can do your work just fine without me here. And there is much for you to do, I understand."
     "Is the shop doing well?"

     "Good." She smiles a little. "You had me worried, to make a woman wonder." Another sip and she seems to meditate on the flavor of it for a time. She sighs and pulls down her mask for a moment to hide. "What a shame... all of this business. I hate feeling for Paolo," the mask comes up, "... you know how I feel about Paolo, but it is miserable business that has been enacted upon him. But yes... there is much happening, much work to do. The city is still sinking. I am having to abandon the lower shelves. But," a hand comes up, "... I refuse to despair..."
     And now you are here! "And now you are here, returned. It is always good to see a friend. So," a smile at the brim of the cup, "... were you homesick? And you must tell me what you will be doing. You know... I have been enjoying looking for Doge Pesaro's gold without you. I was just about to find it, and here you are, to spoil all of my fun..."
     The cup is held, the remaining warmth taken by her hands, many rings upon her fingers, some jeweled and some not, all gifts to be sure. "The shop is fine. We have been making good money this year. It has been a busy year for tourism. I think they have come to pay final respects," a smirk, "...and so they rush to see it while there is still time...looking at us with that look in their eyes, like we were the musicians on The Titanic..."

     Cesare chuckles as he continues to look at his orange. Meditation. "That is the boat that crashed, yes?" He exhales. "What is going on with Paolo?" Cesare murmurs, deciding to delve into that tale.

     "The man has no luck. You think the husband of a fate witch could manage," a smirk. "But when has fate ever been fortune?" She puts the mask of the kitty back on her face and sighs. "It is such a sordid business, amice. You know, he has been between those women for years. Rosalie with his son and his daughter, and Cosimina with his daughter and now pregnant with twins. Well, he has been feeling in a lie for a while now, but did not know how deeply that lie was until he went home in the middle of the day to find Rosalie on the kitchen table with a lover..."
     She peeks out behind the mask: "The lover who just happens to look exactly like Rosalie's toddler daughter. So," an exhale, "...in pure Italian fashion, he beats the man, throws them naked out of his house to make them a spectacle for the whole city, shamed like in the old days. But this is not all... Rosalie has been maliciously attacking him for a while now. Magically. Sewing charms into his clothing. As you can imagine, Cosimina, while she does not love Paolo," a lie, and Albizzina knows it for herself, "... and the fate witches have cut Rosalie off from the fate of this City. She is to be banished."
     Albizzina smiles a little and leans in toward you. "Are you certain you wish to stay?" Then she laughs softly. "Poor Paolo. It could not have happened to a more miserable soul in all of Venice. Still, such maliciousness against the Ferryman should not be allowed. You appear to have returned just in time for a gathering."

     Cesare frowns as he hears this tale. "Is everything alright with Rosalie?" He would guess that such is not like her. "That is..." he frowns, "...the lover looked like Rosalie's daughter?" He is quite confused. "You know, much has been going on...many factions, Albizzina. Are you certain that there is not some other force at work? I have known Rosalie for many years and this..." he shakes his head, "...it is non-sensical for her to do such a thing. She has had nothing but love and care for Paolo. Something else may be at work," Cesare suggests. "And Cosimina...yes she is polite but, her feelings are known towards Rosalie and Paolo."

     "Yes, her feelings about Paolo are very well published. As for Rosalie, I wish I could provide more understanding." She shrugs. "He found what he found. They found what they found. And Rosalie has as much said she loved the other man and has admitted he is the father of her little girl. Not every apple that bears a bloom bears a sweet fruit, my friend. But..." a smile, "...what would I know. I do not weave anymore. I gave that whole business up. I just have a shop, a puss, and a cup of tea..."
     Albizzina sets the cup aside. "What I do know is that Rosalie has moved magic against her husband and has refused to work while he fed and clothed another man's child. Now, I always thought she was perfectly amiable, if dreadfully simple. If anyone is to blame, it is likely the other man." A slight shrug. "She is perhaps guilty most of all of being easily led. But I can only report on gossip. As for Rosalie, she is defiant. She is in her lover's house with their daughter, and is trying to turn shame into sympathy, as any woman, any person would."
     Albizzina lets out a mighty exhale, as if speaking it would exorcise the whole matter. "Certainly you have a better story, amice. Your return. Your lover. Your own joy. I should rather hear of this. And are you going to return to your home in the theatre?"

     Cesare is not one to argue. He smiles at the change of topics, shrugging a little. "I have no better story. It is just...a story. I am," he inhales, "...going to look for another home. A new one. I have been at the theatre since it opened oh...that was...before the turn of the century." The previous one. "It was a beautiful place, the theatre," Cesare smiles. "Lights and people. Music, acting."
     "I have aged like it, perhaps. Though," Cesare grins, "...it is still worse off than I am."
     "I hate to leave it, but I should have a new home. Though, I do not want to leave my flat."

     Yes, a change of topic. She would rather talk about you than the latest gossip. "More tea?" she offers as she rises to pour herself another cup. "A new home. I hate to see you leave that place but I can understand wanting a place with more room. There is no such thing as a new building in Venice," she chuckles. "They will all have that... lived in charm. So expensive it has become. You'd think they'd be lowering the rents on a sinking ship!" she winks and pours.
     "Your paint does not appear to be peeling and one leg is not shorter than the other. So I would say you are faring better than most houses in our city," Albizzina is tickling herself with this clearly. "There are a few empty palazzi ... they are making them into more flats, but bigger. Trying to attract young people back to the city..."

     Cesare nods, "I have heard this. So I am going to look around, to see what is suitable." It is true, he does not want to leave his only-known home, but something compels him. "It is a blessing that I have not gotten lead poisoning, it's true," he smirks, finger dancing upon the lip of the teacup.
     "Albizzina," Cesare says, his smirk turning serious. "I do not know how to say this. But...I just want you to know that...I am...changed."

     "It is okay, Cesare, I still love you," she says with humor still ringing in her tone, but seriousness too. "Everyone changes. That is the nature of things, of all things. Even Fate. It is not a bad thing, to change." Albizzina sips a refreshed cup of tea, and she toys with the orange slice, poking it slightly with the little spoon.
     "In ...what way, would you say," she gestures to you as she takes her usual perch, folding one leg over the other, bangled wrist sparkling as she reaches over to pet the silver cat. "Is it something specific, amice? Or a general...metamorphosis..."

     "General," Cesare says curtly, watching his tea cool. "Specific. A specific thing that affects everything." He looks up, "Someone loves me. That's good to know," trying to find humor. But he looks down to the cup again. "I know that you are correct. Things change. People. Magic. Life."

     "Everything changes, si. And, I think, at least two people love you," she gently corrects. "But you seem ... sad for this change? Upset. I did notice you were...agitated on our last visit. I think that is the word. Agitated. Now, you seem calmer... but no happier for it. You believe this change is a bad thing?"
     Albizzina lifts the cup for a sip and she looks at you past the brim of it. It is not studying -- it is the look of a friend. Concerned by your mood.

     "I bet," Cesare lifts, "...if you had your cards, you would know me by now. But, it doesn't really matter," he sums up, letting his planned humor at you dissipate. "I don't know what I think of what I understand now. I don't know. All I know is the result. And it is the result with which I must deal. What I would like or how things should be are really irrelevant. I must deal with what is and how I go forward."
     "If I worry on the rest," Cesare looks up, "...well, I just cannot."

     "I put them away long ago," she explains. Though she has never spoken of why. To anyone. "But for you... only for you... would I unwrap them where I've kept them these last years. If you ask me as a fate witch to see the threads around you, or your lover, I will do so. As your friend."
     Albizzina curls a smile. "But better you should speak with Cosimina. She is the mistress of fate, she who peers past the black lace." Sipping her tea, her smile trails away. "She has skill, great skill. Mine, long set aside, would make for a poor oracle."
     "Yes," she sets her cup aside, "...you are right, you cannot worry. Worry blunts your power. And it only serves to make you miserable. And I know you as I prefer to know you. Slowly, over time, like the blossoming of a fine wine." Albizzina smiles as she approaches you, a hand to your face, pinching a cute cheek as if you were her son. "Hmm? I do not mind not knowing what is behind the black lace. When you are ready to part the veil for me, you will..."

     Cesare's nose turns up and he winces appropriately. "I have never been one to avail myself of such things you know, Albizzina. Even I have waited to see my own fate. But in it, waiting....all I have done is wait. And wait. And read books and look for gold. But now it's here," he explains obtusely, "...and I find myself wishing I was simply waiting again, with a book. Unaware."
     "Then I blame myself for sitting in my ignorance. Gah!" Cesare sighs, looking up, 'I do not know if I want to know, if I ever wanted to know, knowing that I have perhaps hidden myself from knowing, and I'd prefer to not know and be as I was."

     "Hmmm," Albizzina peers at you, setting your cheek free. "You wish to know and yet to know nothing. You are in a quandary. I believe philosophers call this Anselm's Circle, a circle of logic out of which one may not escape. You can never be who you Were. You can only be who you are becoming, so why bemoan it?"
     It is a philosophy she has, is it not? She wanders to a shelf, setting the mask aside. No more the gilded pussy. Ha. She pivots back to you a hand on her hip. "Why blame yourself now. It will do you no good. It is not time for you to wait now. But, you can leave the gold to me if it would make you feel better..."

     Cesare just groans at the paradox, well aware of his predicament. "Hence my summation: I can go only forward at this point, unknowing. And -- I just gave you two years and you have not found it? Then..." he shrugs, "...it must be up to me, then."
     "I should go," Cesare says. "Many places to see," he explains. "Sorry on the tea," he points, not having touched his snack. "Will you...tell Paolo that I asked about him." He is not so ready to deal with such drama.

     "Tsks... as if you shall ever find it, you with your impatience. I am as good as there. It is between me and Pesaro now. And ... I am not cheating. I could pluck the fates to bring my riches. But I like the challenge..."
     Albizzina makes another wave for the tea. "Please, please, you may waste my tea any time. Take care, hmm? Do not worry your self into Perplexion. Things are as they are. Que sera, sera, amice..." What will be, will be.
     That's a hell of a thing for a Fate witch to say...
     Well, she is a former fate witch...

Posted by rowan at January 24, 2005 08:16 PM