paradisalogs | holy water cannot help you now;

Entry tags:

holy water cannot help you now;

Who: Lana Lang & Ezio Auditore
What: Rage bender that will eventually lead to presents ~~and hopefully an intact Ezio~~.
When: Christmas Eve
Where: Lana's house.
Rating: PG-13 for now?

Lana had originally planned to really enjoy the holidays. She'd thought to go to Lucrezia's party, to finish wrapping up all the Christmas presents and deliver them to all of her friends, but nothing had really gone as planned. And whose fault was that?

There were names she could have cursed out loud in her rage, but she kept them silent since one could ever be too careful in Paradisa. But there, in her mind, she screamed them as she tore through anything in her path. DAMON SALVATORE. LUCREZIA BORGIA.

LEX LUTHOR!

She had almost completely demolished the panic room beneath her house, having thought that it could withstand her temper tantrum, but she was wrong. And it wasn't enough. So when that was through, she moved to her guest room, another room nobody would see, and continued to seek blame where she couldn't find it.

Lana had been trying to be happy. To help. To be useful. And who had talked her into that? Who? Maybe there was only one name she should be cursing in her head, for putting such fanciful thoughts there in the first place.

EZIO AUDITORE!

And there went the wooden wardrobe out the guest bedroom's window, left-over clothes and all, to scatter broken in her yard.

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Ezio started going through the fridge and cabinets for ingredients, but he cast Krypto a look.

"Hello, dog," he said.

He's so cool.

Meanwhile, Lana took to wrapping her package, doing her best not to hurry through anything too much. She needed to collect herself, and figure out what she wanted to bring up to Ezio tonight, if anything. They were supposed to be celebrating, after all, so it wasn't exactly the best time for work talk or angry venting.

One thing she knew she couldn't really avoid, though, or it would only bite her in the ass. She cast an angry look towards the scale in the corner of her room, having been undecided on actually destroying the thing or not up until this point.

Changing into a soft olive green sweater and black leggings, Lana braided her hair over one shoulder and finished it with a green Christmas ribbon tied into a bow. Might as well try to be somewhat festive!

Her expression was still only half a smile when walking out of her room, though the source would be clear soon enough once she set the Borgia's gift on the small table just outside the kitchen.

"Lucrezia sent this for you. She must have got the address wrong."

Wow that was some sarcasm, but too late for that.

Ezio looked up from the stove, where he was tending to a hot pan, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Judging by her tone, she was even less amused than he had been, upon seeing Lucrezia's gift to Lana delivered to his room.

"Ah," he said, with a touch of his own irritation. "She's trickier than she would have people believe. She sent one for you to me, too."

He nodded his head towards his satchel, which had been slung over the back of a chair. His eyes then went to the scales she had set down, only barely concealing his own exasperation.

"Banker's scales. Hm."

Lana looked to the satchel with a touch of curiosity. Okay more than that, since she doesn't even need to open it to see what was inside. Her first suggestion was to see how much the garbage disposal could tolerate, but just like the situation with the scales, she knew it would look worse if she never wore them. Seeming like they had something to be angry over and hide would not help their cause.

If there was even any point to that anymore, and caused her to bring up her next point. She sat in the chair in a somewhat defeated heap, watching him cook. Ezio you would look so sexy right now if she wasn't pissed off ~~all the time~~.

"Are we wasting our time? Should we just ask Hard Harry to announce it over the radio while we do the tango in front of Lucrezia and her brother?"

She was talking about dancing, Ezio, not sex, before you even jump there.

"She may have just made a conclusion because I teased you," he replied. "I am sure she does not know about our relationship beyond whatever girlish fantasies she may have."

He turned the burners down so he could let the pan simmer, moving his attention to rubbing down a raw chicken in salt, pepper and oil.

"Then again, even if Lucrezia knew, I would not consider anything we did a 'waste of time'."

And that was just another reason for her to resist being angry at him. Because I teased you. Exactly. Damn it, Ezio! She gnawed on her lower lip a bit, only somewhat subdued by the following statements.

"That isn't what I mean. I just mean... All these attempts to be secretive. What's the point if she's going to be paranoid about it, anyway?"

She rested her chin against her palm, watching him work. Lana decided she liked seeing him do his thing in the kitchen. But she liked watching him do most things.

"I don't want to be made a fool of."

"You will not be made a fool of," he replied, plainly. "And we are being secretive because it is fun to have something private, something all our own."

He glanced up at her as he kept preparing the chicken, poking around the spice rack. He had no idea what half of it was, but he would try whatever he wanted, because he was in the pseudo-21st century and in that time period you could do whatever you wanted because food was endlessly abundant. Yes.

"She can be paranoid all she wants. She can be jealous, even, and she should be. She does not have your beauty, nor your determination, nor your kindness."

The compliments were ones he'd stated before, but they still made her blush with just the right amount of humility and possibly a little too much vanity. Lana was nothing if not contradictory, the slight tightness to her smile only supporting the fact.

"I don't know. I thought she was kind of..."

She trailed off for only a moment as she rocked a little wooden pepper shaker back and forth with a fingertip, searching for the right word.

"...stunning."

"Yes, but plenty of women are stunning," he replies. "She is also a Borgia, and a tryst or more with a Borgia will only lead to trouble."

Finished with the chicken, he pauses to suck the oil and spices off a finger, just out of habit, and then steps over to the sink to wash his hands properly.

"Beauty is more than pale skin and golden hair and all of those silly things. She is vain, it must take her hours to look like that, pinching her cheeks and coiffing her hair. That kind of nonsense. You, Lana... you can tumble out of bed looking like a gift from God to men."

Lana stood from the table to walk around the counter, stopping behind Ezio to wrap her arms around his middle and nuzzle against his back. His flattery would have seemed empty and forced coming from anyone else, but those from the Renaissance definitely had the gift of pretty speech.

"You're making me blush, but that isn't what I meant. I don't think plenty of women are stunning. I'm not just talking about her looks, but the way she carries herself, the way she speaks so carefully and sharply at the same time. It's easy to see why you liked her. She has a commanding presence."

He chuckles, low and throaty. He likes the way her arms feel around him –– there's something comforting about it, even when he's not particularly in need of comfort.

"Yes, we call that sprezzatura in Italian. The effortless display of grace. It is something noble girls in my time are taught since birth, and all of them end up the same."

Liked her? He shakes his head.

"I love commanding women, but not when they still have their baby teeth."

At that, she withdraws her embrace somewhat, instead picking at invisible lint off his shoulder.

"But that didn't stop you, did it? She was fifteen, and you were flirting with her..."

Of course, Lana has no idea anything more may have happened, but she always suspects with Ezio; she can't help it.

He sounds amused.

"I flirt with everyone, bambina," he replies. "That does not mean I would chase her around as I do with you. Besides, she is a Borgia."

"So what?"

She turns away, moving to see what is going on in here. It all smells great, but what is he making?

"I was a Luthor once, and that name carries as much esteem and danger in my time as Borgia does in yours. Even if she's schemed, when I've been with her, I just got the impression that she was lonely, and trying to put on a brave face. It's something I understand."

Roasted chicken with cranberry and apple-vinegar dressing, with chicken broth risotto. Not a completely Italian meal, but experience cooking for Stephanie had taught him that Americans had a skewed idea of what constituted Italian food... hell, future Italians would have a skewed idea of their own food.

Fucking tomatoes.

"I do not know much of your Luthor family, but I doubt it. The Borgia are not just powerful businessmen, they are embroiled in politics, in religion –– foreign kings and rulers in the Christian world seek the Pope's acknowledgement, because that makes their rule credible in the eyes of God. If she is not aware of that and her own power now, she will be in a few short years." He pauses and shrugs. "Besides... if I chased after Lucrezia's skirts with any seriousness or intent, her brother would attempt to kill me for honour's sake, and then I would have to put the bastard down, which would upset a great deal of people here."

And truthfully, it would.

"You do not know the Borgia as well as I do, dolcezza."

"Yeah, you like to make that pretty clear." Her tone is dry, but not particularly sharp. She's more frustrated about her lack of knowledge and experience with them than with his possessiveness in the issue. Doesn't she get just as cranky when others want to horn in on Luthor politics? She's upset enough knowing that Oliver is the one to get rid of Lex, and not her.

Then again she seems to be upset about everything right now. The smell of this meal cooking and Ezio's presence are the only things to soothe her, even if the subject matter isn't necessarily romantic.

"I wonder if I would have a better time getting close to her brother than her."

He considers that for a moment.

"With your abilities, I would have no cause to fear for your safety, but I would, regardless." He lines up the chicken on a baking pan. "He would likely try to sleep with you, and I would be envious, even if you had the means to get information from him that way."

It occurs to him, somewhat belatedly, to remind her of what he would initially consider a given:

"I also doubt he would reveal much beyond that. You are a woman, and he is a man of my time."

That makes her roll her eyes, even if she knows he's right. But she does want to make one point clear, as she hops up on the only clear section of counter to sit and watch better.

"I would never sleep with someone to get information, anyway."

Even if that is probably the only way she could sleep with a guy right now... Less chance of orgasm. The safest method would probably be to just use her hands or mouth. Wow why is she thinking like that? Ezio's lewd mind must be rubbing off on her.

"I never would," she reiterates, unnecessarily no doubt.

He glances up from the chicken to look at her, wondering if his own concerns about fidelity were rubbing off on her... but at the same time, neither of them could really talk. They'd both been in relationships when they'd had their first tryst, her more obviously than he, but both unhappy.

"I know," he replies, gently. "I am just saying that is likely what he would look for. That is how most women work with politics: they go on their backs, whether in marriage or for pleasure."

He pops the chicken in the oven and rinses his hands, then moves to her, so he can stand between her legs.

"But that is why it is best to use Lucrezia. She will not be as prudent or responsible, and she can get answers from Cesare for us."

The thought of 'using' anyone like that makes her uncomfortable... And somewhat excited, to think of having that sort of power, which she knows should make her feel guilt, but it's not as heavy as it once may have been. Not enough to stop her, clearly, just enough for her to say something about it.

But she still smiles lightly as he steps closer, her thighs hugging his waist when she leans in to kiss the tip of his nose.

"I think you're underestimating Lucrezia, Ezio... She seems to like spending time with me, but she's also good at putting on a brave face. I have no doubt she's good at putting on as many faces as she needs to make me think she's comfortable.

Knowing that you and I are even acquainted, she'll probably never trust me. It might just be better for me to eavesdrop on them and save us all a lot of trouble."

He bumps up against her when she wraps her legs round him, both hands on her thighs.

"I do not think so," he replies. "Last time she pissed me off, she did not even understand why it upset me –– which says to me she is a child, not a woman of politics. If she puts on a face for you, I am sure she does not even know why, other than feeling defensive."

She worries her lower lip at that notion.

"Then we're taking advantage of her. How is that right? You can't deny that you hurt her, Ezio. You... You weren't in the right. And her reaction was something that I could see a lot of girls at my old high school trying.

It's not worth hurting her over, just because her brother's dangerous."

He reaches a hand to brush his thumb over her lip, soothing.

"Dolcezza, she will not be harmed. We are just getting information from her."

She glances up, catching his gaze.

"Using her is harming her. If it were me, if I found out in the end, my heart would be broken all over again. She'll hate us, and she'll have every right to."

"Lana," he says, softly. "I am going to kill her father. She is going to hate me eventually regardless."

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