[tuscany] not nineteen forever. [tag; mannie]

She'd never liked January.

It was a long, cold, dark, bleak month. It seemed to stretch for infinity. It didn't hold anything fun. After Christmas and New Year, January turned up like the least favourite stepchild.

It was a bitterly cold day in central Italy. The rolling Tuscan hills, once lusciously green, were now covered with a blanket of thick snow. The clouds ahead were ominously grey and Sofia squinted out of the window and huffed, sending her glossy dark curls bobbing in protest. It was grey. Everything was bloody grey.

Her heels click-clacked across the marble floors, echoing merrily as she strode through her palace. The staff weren't due to come back for another week or so. Sofia could be a slave-driver but she wasn't that bad. The towering mansion that spilled out onto the grounds was perfectly quiet and why? Because she was the only one here.

That was just how she liked it. The house was so big, it was rare that she'd come across a colleague anyway but she knew Blake had a bad habit of raiding her wonderful wine cellar. All traces of the festive season had been removed and she'd spent most of the day stuffing tinsel and swags into bin bags. The only inkling that Christmas had even occurred were the boxes of presents in the hall and the faint scent of pine cones. Sofia wasn't really one for any sorts of social gathering. Christmas felt forced. She didn't want to sit around a table, pretending she was having a good time. She didn't want to fend off questions from her nonna as she wanted to know why Sofia hadn't gotten married yet.

It was enough.

With her foot on the first stair of the grand, sweeping staircase, a strange noise pricked her ears. It was almost dark know, dusk hovering just around the curve of the hills. Stepping backwards, she turned, straining her ears to find the source of the sound. Animal, mineral or vegetable? Sofia could have sworn it sounded like sobbing but who would break into her home to cry?

None of the wards had tripped and Collina Verde was positively dripping with them. Visitors very rarely made it to the stronghold. Deals were usually made in Milan, perhaps Rome, anywhere miles from here. Unless her ears were playing tricks on her, the trespasser…wasn't really a trespasser. He or she had been granted access and it sat a little uneasily on her shoulders.

Quietly as she could, slipped off her heel and padded barefoot through the villa, keeping her back close to wall as she broke into a gentle jog. She was anxious but the pressure was off. Sofia knew it must be someone she or her grandfather was familiar with. There was no danger of any member of the Meer clan getting in without the wards screaming in warning first.

"Mannie?" The surprise was clear in her honeyed voice, her chocolate brown eyes wide as she drew closer to see him loitering in the courtyard. She shifted. The last time they'd seen one another, she hadn't been at her best. Broken and lying in a hospital bed, her ego had taken a pounding. Swiftly, she drew closer, unusual concern etched on her pretty face as she saw his appearance.

Gone was the tanned and toned swimmer and in his place was someone who looked rather ill. Tired and drawn, he needed a haircut, a shower and a bloody good shave. Sofia wasn't one to entertain beards. Her footfalls were light as she frowned, pulling out a wrought iron chair and sitting down opposite him at the small table without a word of judgement. "Hi," she said softly with a small smile. "Do you want to tell me why you look like a Victorian street urchin?"


@Ermanno Tomassi

Mannie hadn't experienced depression often in his life. He prided himself in being an emotionally strong individual, capable of managing any incident without showing weakness. He had always known there was so arrogance to his belief, but he was too prideful to think about ever reach such a pitfall. The fading Italian wasn't quite certain how he managed to find himself in the court yard. Vaguely he remembered being particularly intoxicated and thinking it was a good idea to get out of the house. The rest was a little blurry and unimportant to him. Often, when he and Rochelle would find themselves in a particularly nasty fight Mannie would scamper away to the estate and take his anger out on training some of his charges. Perhaps that is why he had coming here would be a good idea, but then again at some point he realized he was in no state to train anyone for the day. So he had stammered around buzz still about him and plopped his dirty body onto a chair.

It was cold and his clothing barely appropriate for the season, but the whiskey still moving through his veins kept him warm. How did he ever let life get to him like this? Had the trauma and devastation of Hogwarts set him off enough to fall apart like this? Or was it just the thought that Rochelle had sworn to keep his child away from him? As those thoughts pondered through his head he began to sob again, stomach muscles stinging from their constant shaking and contortion. How pitiful he was. A shadow of his former self and it had only been a week since he escaped and received the letter.

In his emotional state he had not noticed Sofia saddle up to him. Not until he heard her voice, speaking softly with concern did he realize he was no longer alone. Reddened eyes locked onto his former lover. The last time he had seen her she had been a mess of pain and torment. That was also his last moment before he had been called away to aid the catastrophe. She looked better now, almost as if no curse had touched her olive skin. In that moment he wanted to take hold of her, squeeze her against him until he felt some semblance for being okay. Instead a drunken hiccup escaped his lips and he attempted to return her smile, "My new profession Bella. I am a master of disguise and today's special is street urchin." His fingers moved to pinch at his own beard, brushing some crumbs away. It was the most he could do to at least look a little professional.

It must be that woman. Mannie hadn't told her he was seeing someone, let alone that he was due to be married to her. It wasn't difficult to find out that sort of information. Ermanno was an honest and open person, tracking down his past had been a walk in the park. She hadn't met his fiancée, nor did she have any desire to. No information had been shared but it was clear she was tormenting him. She'd hurt him too but for very different reasons.

At sixteen years old, she couldn't provide Mannie with what he wanted. She couldn't be a stable, supporting influence on him. She wasn't able to marry him and have his babies and move into the country. It wasn't her. She handled it poorly but she had to cut him loose, for his own benefit. It was just a shame that he couldn't see it from her point of view.

"Very convincing," she replied and not unkindly. He'd been crying, she'd noticed. Sofia wasn't good with tears but seeing them come from a man made it somehow worse. She wasn't able to hold his hand and soothe him. She just wasn't hardwired that way and there was something missing. She was angry on his behalf, though. He was a former shadow of himself. She didn't know who this shell of a man sitting before her was.

"Why don't you take a shower?" The brunette prodded him gently to test the waters. "I've got some warm, clean clothes." She tilted her head. "And six spare bedrooms so you can take your pick." They weren't lovers and they weren't friends. They were at a strange sort of limbo, directly in the middle. Too many things had been shared for them to be lovers and too much distance had passed for them to be friends. But that didn't mean she didn't get jealous as she imagined the beautiful ring sat on that girl's finger when everyone knew said ring should be sitting on hers. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Standing up, she stepped around the table to him and offered him her hands. "Come on," she said gently, using the voice she did to cajole her numerous small family members into doing what she wanted them to. "I hate that beard on you," she eventually said, her fingers itching to shave it off.

"My nonna used to say that the world looks ugly through the bottom of a glass," Sofia told him gently as she helped to haul him onto his feet, her hands gripping his own tightly as she backed up, easily negotiating the little step that lead back into the cool hallway. With any luck, Mannie would sober up enough to be able to work the shower and negotiate the many staircases the house held.

She debated on offering to have his wife-to-be killed. Sofia wouldn't charge him, it'd be an honour. She wondered if they'd set a date and why she hadn't been invited. Did she embarrass him somehow? Was she a blemish on his record? It didn't matter anyway, not really. "And up," she said as she backed onto the staircase, treating him like a wobbly toddler. "My bedroom's got the best bathroom, so you can use that one," she instructed as they minced up the rest of the stairs to the landing.

Opening a door off the marbled hallway to her bedroom, she closed it when they entered. Turning, she took a swift look at him. "A bath might be easier for you," she decided before she swept off into the adjoining bathroom. Turning on the taps, she pulled out a soft towel and laid it on the edge of the bath before stepping back out into the bedroom. "I'll wait here," she told Mannie, resisting the urge to see if he still had that knock out physique of a swimmer that he used to.

Ermanno was not exactly proud of himself to be in such a state in front of Sofia. In fact the only other time he had been such a wreck was when he found her with Alejandro, having rejected his proposal of marriage. Sometimes he wondered where he would have been in his life had she not rejected him. Would they have been roaming the world in a passionate romance filled with danger and dancing? May Sofia have actually decided to settle down and give him the horde of children he knew she could mother. OR would they have been just as miserable as he and Rochelle had become?

It did not matter, he briefly thought to himself they were long past that point of what could have been. He wanted to remark on how strange it was to see her trying to be so comforting towards him. He could see it was difficult for her to empathize in the way she likely though he expected, but he still appreciated that in the moment she was trying to be there for him.

He raised a furrowed brow, but did not fight her as she led him up from the table and to what he would assume a hot show he would desperately need. Ermanno even managed a small throaty laugh when she tried to coax him to take of his straggly beard. The tiniest bit of anger flashing through him as he wondered whether his ugliness was just too much for her. Did she only prefer him when he was pretty boy perfect?

Mannie did not want to admit that as she led him so carefully up the stairs, he needed it. His head was foggy and wobbly, as was the belly full of fire whiskey bouncing with every step. He had enough dignity and control not to throw up on her, but it was not the easiest thing for him to control. As she led him into her bedroom and through into her bathroom another tang filled him. This was not the way he had expected to find his way up here. She babied him like a mother, delicately laying out the room for him. He had always imagined her taking care of him, but not with pity in her eyes. Trembling hands moved to try and remove the dirty t-shirt clinging to his torso. "Thank you, for being so kind bella." he quipped, and then grunted as he became tangled in his own shirt. In his moment of drunken undressing he began to curse up an Italian storm as to why his clothing was being so difficult. As if he wasn't already embarrassed enough. He hobbled around the room, trying to tear off the tangled top and before he realized he crashed ass first into the tub of water.

Sofia frowned at this throw away comment.

Her warm chocolate coloured eyes seemed to darken briefly as she watched him closely for a moment. Was he trying to be sarcastic? He knew what she was like. She wasn't like other girls, she'd be unable to give him what he wanted. She wasn't soft. She was hard and cold, like granite an ex-boyfriend once remarked. It was at that point that she'd decided that she'd be much more like granite; she'd become unbreakable.

There was a reason she did what she did. When the proposal came, she was barely eighteen and far too young to make such an important decision. If he was in love with her then, Mannie certainly wasn't in love with her now. She sighed softly, lost in her own thoughts momentarily. The Healer could project onto her whatever he wanted but it didn't make it true. She'd play the bad guy for his sake if he found it comforting. A clean break was needed and he was obviously over it, he'd found someone else.

He hadn't meant to see her with one of his friends but she'd ended the relationship. He wanted more than she could offer and it would be unfair to let him think that she could. Sofia had gone about it the wrong way but it didn't mean that it had come from the wrong idea.

"I'm not rotten to the core, you know," she told him softly as she took a soft towel from the cabinet and folded it, resting it against the side of the sink, suddenly feeling unable to meet his eye. They probably should talk about it. It was possibly the only happy relationship she'd ever had but now wasn't the time. Too much of it had passed now and what would it achieve? After all, they were technically colleagues now and she never dipped her quill in company ink.

She made no move to help Mannie as he wrestled with his tee shirt. She watched distractedly, her arms folded. Goodness. He must be much more drunk than she thought he was. She heaved a shudder as she remembered his profession. It was a good job that she was listed under another gynaecologist because she wasn't sure she'd want his hands anywhere near her froo-froo at the moment.

"Oh!" The Italian called out, making a grab for him and then wincing as he fell bum-first into the bath. Letting out a squeak of surprise, the displaced water hit her squarely in the face. Coughing, she slicked a damp lock of her hair from her face as the rapidly cooling water seeped down her chest. Today, of all days, she'd chosen to wear a knitted dress. Wonderful.

Leaning over the bath tub, Sofia took hold of the sleeves and yanked, harder than she should have, and pulled off his shirt. "Easy tiger," she chided him as she flung the soaking wet shirt over her shoulder and into the sink as she set about cleaning up the water on the floor. Around the bathroom, there were a various job lot of expensive shampoos and soaps. Sofia tended to buy local. Most of her cosmetics were handmade but they were beautiful.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her eyes wide. Mannie looked really pitiful. This wasn't him. This wasn't the strong, healthy, wilful  man she knew. In his place was some blithering drunkard and she didn't like it. Heaving another sigh, she added some sweet smelling liquid to the bath that instantly turned into mountains of honey-scented bubbles.

Kicking off her heels, Sofia dropped to her knees, her elbows on the side of the bath as she gently frowned at him again. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked softly. If he wanted relationship advice, she wouldn't be able to help but if he needed advice on how to hide a body, she was his girl for the job.