I hadn’t put much thought into it, because everywhere I had been both in this life and the previous one, had English as their main ans of communication.
Today was Wednesday, the third of July.
"How fast the days go."
I tried to recall if there was a church festival or event happening on this date, but ca up with nothing. The only possible conclusion was that the cathedral had celebrated this morning’s mass in English for our sake, and now that it was over, I was back out in the wild world, left to fend for myself in the midst of Italians.
"I strongly doubt it was just us. There must have been other groups present."
Echo!!
Observing people’s lips, Italian words spilling from them, I scraped off my initial idea of asking for directions and began sweeping through the buildings around . My lips tightened at so of the sights I ca across, especially with how close so of the acts being perford were to the church.
"Too big."
"Crowded."
"Not bad."
I had to push my reach for over twenty ters to find what I wanted. Just as I thought I had located a manageable option, my senses brushed against sothing unusual, sothing unique, and I had no choice but to explore.
It took a few seconds, but suddenly my feet began moving in that direction. As the distance between and the cathedral grew, I turned back for a mont, my eyes catching its tall tower and shining silver bell.
The urge to sweep through the church and learn all of its secrets raged within . But I valued my life and the fragile peace I currently enjoyed. Knowing that the church trained and retained knights and witches was enough reason to behave in their center of power. Lia Caster had already been able to pick up on my use of Echo—I wasn’t about to trigger so grand knight on standby and end up with my head cracked open.
I wish I could say I blended in as I moved, but my lighter choice of clothing made stand out, drawing eyes in my direction. Anyone else would have imdiately switched their wardrobe after London, but with my much tougher body, I hadn’t even noticed the change in climate.
Reminding myself to update my wardrobe after breakfast, I kept walking for several minutes, enjoying the sights. Italian house architects clearly had splendid ideas, and their buildings carried a distinct charm. Eventually, I stepped into Bella Italia.
It wasn’t a restaurant but a café, and what had drawn there wasn’t its beauty or the modern seats. The café was small, boasting just eight tables, and at the mont, only two were occupied despite it being morning. That alone could be concerning.
Pushing open the glass door, a small jingle rang throughout. I stepped into the warm room, a shiver of pleasure running through . My body might not suffer from the cold, but it could still recognize when it had been taken into a familiar, cosy space.
The walls were painted in a mix of red and blue, and the furniture was a deep brown. I couldn’t resist dragging a finger across one of the tables as I walked past, its shiny surface inviting to the touch. From my position, I spotted an attendant already noting my presence, her eyes quickly studying with sharp curiosity.
"What kind of café is this?"
My initial plan had been to take a seat at the far end of the room, but then my attention was caught by the occupied table to my right, just beside the window.
"Okay, bye."
She was female, her red hair bundled up and clipped neatly with a pin. Her skin was pale white, the pure European type. Among the two custors present, she was the one who held my attention.
Dressed in a thick black fur coat, I had initially dismissed her, uninterested in a woman I couldn’t communicate with. But as I looked closer, for all her beauty and the delicate touch she gave to her hair, she wore no accessories, no necklace, no bracelets, not even nail polish. From her neck to her wrists, she was bare.
"Excuse , may I join you?"
The woman turned to look at , the red hue in her eyes startling . With a small smile, she nodded.
The cushioned seat was comfortable, but I barely noticed. Leaning back slightly, I introduced myself.
"Marcus Lawson." I stretched out a hand.
Nodding, the woman grasped it. The feel of her palm sent a shudder through before she retracted. After that gesture, silence lingered for nearly a full minute. Eventually, I shook my head.
"I’m not sure how it’s done here in Italy, but where I’m from, when soone offers their na, you give yours in return."
Surprise flickered across her face, followed by a faint blush.
"I am so sorry," she laughed lightly, a hand rising to cover her face in embarrassnt.
"I’m Romano Chiara."
This ti she extended her hand first, and we shook once more.
"We do the sa here in Italy. I’m sorry, I just thought you already knew who I was."
Normally, one would take that as arrogance, but the mirth in her tone told it was nothing more than a misunderstanding.
"Oh, so you’re a popular individual. An artist, maybe?"
I started small talk with Chiara, and it was during that exchange that the waiter ca over to .
It wasn’t long before my al was served: cornetto, maritozzo, jam, and a cappuccino. I was starving and intended to fill my belly properly that morning.
As the al arrived, I paused before digging in, narrowing my eyes at the food.
"What do you think of the food here?" I asked Chiara while picking up a bun.
What had truly attracted to Bella Italia was its food. From miles away, I couldn’t taste it, but with Echo, I had picked up on its faint addition of Ichor.
This physical energy wasn’t just in the food, but also in the very air around . Ro was already proving itself to be a very mysterious place.
Reviews
All reviews (0)