Pᴇᴀʀʟ ᴏғ Vᴇɴɪᴄᴇ

the sensualist in him held no reservation about giving his love to the girl so freely, and in turn held no objection to the depravity in his sweet little prey-thing. but somewhere behind the raging bliss and bewildered shadows of his hunger, marius finds himself pulling himself back into some semblance of a man unscorched; his chin comes to his chest and he meets bianca face to face, nose to nose. he is more than pleased to hear that girlish tenor in her voice as she says his name. he searches her eyes, the slightest raise of white eyebrows.

ˊ a shame, surely, to be invited into the divinity of your home and god is no more interested in you than she is the wine. how many hearts have you come to break in my absence? ten? twenty? ˋ marius ducks his head, trailing his strong nose down along her throat.

ˊ all in due time, my girl. come now, ˋ lips as cool as stone come to press against the soft skin of bianca's ear. ˊ i bring gifts. ˋ without another word, the large, silent creature carries her through the deadened halls of her home, door after door, until they reach hers.

he unlocks it with simple will. the door closes behind them, quietly, a simple whisper as it locks itself once more.

"There are some that attempt to seek entrance to my bedchambers, and I have broken each of their hearts in my refusal. Only you have that privilege, Marius."

The feeling of his skin against hers made her flush with excitement, and it was only when he carried her in his arms that she realised she was holding her breath. In his presence, she was simply Bianca. No pretenses, except for her dark secret.

Rosy lips widened into a smile, for what young woman did not delight in the gifts of a beloved?

Her curiosity was piqued then. What bits and baubles he had brought to appease the yearning she had during his absence? Bianca's delicate fingers played then with her master and lover's hair as grey eyes caught the glimpses of a few who wished permission into her gilded bedroom. She did admit to herself that she took slight pleasure in their disappointed faces, watching as they bowed their head in defeat and returned to the merriment before the door closed behind them.

"Hmm, such as?" Benjamin asked. "I know the fairer sex is rather elusive, but are you saying you can read minds, as well?"

Despite the jest in his tone, he was genuinely curious of her meaning, and once Bianca's coy gaze met with his own, he faltered as she turned and directed her attention out towards the dance floor. With barely any time at all, a young man met her gaze -- well-poised, fluid, naïve -- and his knees practically turned boneless once he all but tripped in his dance steps.

A titter arose at his expense, and with coyly gleaming eyes, Bianca returned her sly glance toward Benjamin. A distinct heat formed beneath his collar, harsh and white-hot before he breathed an uneasy laugh. "I see no discretion here," he volleyed. "You practically destroyed that man... Remind me to never get on your sour side."

Indifferent toward his reservations, Bianca inclined her head and indicated that he follow. Helpless but to obey, Benjamin relinquished his wine glass onto a passing tray, then followed her toward the library. The moment they crossed the threshold, his mouth dropped and he appraised the boundless shelves with visible delight.

"I've never seen so many books," he said. Overcome, Benjamin moved toward the nearest shelf, skimming his fingers along each spine with a hint of reverence. "You have the classics, as well as all the great philosophers...do you truly mean to tell me you've read all of these?"

Bianca plucked a tome from a neighboring shelf. Eyes feline and her mouth in a sultry curve, she laid down Vom Tode für das Vaterland and slid the book across the table, posing her question.

Stepping forward, Benjamin traced the gold leaf along the cover and nodded. "I've heard of the ideals," he replied. "Though admirable, I'm afraid American patriotism leans more toward works such as Cato."

"How far are you willing to go for freedom...Benjamin Tallmadge?"

All at once, his eyes snapped up to meet with hers, a distinct chill settling within his spine. "So you do know me," he replied, attempting nonchalance. "I'd been waiting for a sign all evening, but I suppose your earlier words proved true, after all: women really do hold all the cards."

Placing his own palms flat against the table, he leaned forward and mirrored her challenging posture. Eyes glinting within the flickering candlelight, he avowed, "I'm willing to go as far as it takes, madam. No sacrifice is too great -- I've already lost most of what I hold dear in this life, so to turn back now..." Here, his teeth gritted. "Well, I'd be a coward. And I damn well intend to see this through."

"I have been watching you since my arrival. You and a Major John André. It seems like I have arrived at such a precarious time."

She turned to the bookshelf, slender fingers gently and purposefully passing over each book. Bianca could easily find whatever she needed in her library in the blink of an eye--but tonight, she had to be measured in her movements. One of the important things she had learned from Marius was that mortal minds could not comprehend the powers of those who have the Dark Gift, and so they must act as human-like as possible. She had imbibed blood over the last few nights, careful to seek out the evil doers that lurked in the outskirts of the city; it is thanks to them that her complexion was that of a woman in her prime, warm and rosy as she was in her mortal years in Venice.

"Ah, here." she took out her first edition copy of John Locke's A Letter Concerning Toleration, gifted to her by a scholar when she settled in Rotterdam after leaving Dresden almost a century ago. "Maybe this will be more to your liking, Mister Tallmadge."

The conviction in his words impressed her. Most men were enthusiastic with certain things in the beginning, but fail to see things through. It seemed like he was the kind of man that followed through on his word, and valued honour at that. But what was honour? Did men truly understand what it is? Bianca would have to see with Benjamin. It was a risk playing this game with him, and soon with Major André. In the end, she wanted security in a new land, and she was willing to do whatever it takes to finally stand on her own two feet.

"Well then, let me help you see it through." she replied, sliding the book on the table to his side. "You have seen only a part of what I can do here tonight; I have many more tricks up my sleeve. If it's information you seek, I can provide you with it. My home is open to those who are worthy of my attentions, some of who are prominent British officers."

— Yes, you can. You are a Borgia.

Sheepish, Benjamin agreed, "I wouldn't be opposed to a lesson or two -- so long as I have a patient teacher, of course." Lips quirking upward, he looked away. "Truth be told, I find it fascinating how the fairer sex is capable of bringing a man to his knees far more greatly than any weapon. After all, a battle I could withstand, but wooing? It's an art form I have yet to perfect."

Perhaps he shouldn't be confessing as such... Still, Benjamin felt oddly secure standing there, where normally, being in the presence of a party, let alone a beautiful woman would ribbon him with discomfort.

And then with only a handful of words, Bianca asked that, and he felt his face burn with stark embarrassment. Breathing an uneasy laugh, he replied, "Well, I suppose that depends...just what would a tête-à-tête entail? I pride in advancing my education, but I also like to show some discretion here and there."

Despite his humility, Benjamin realized this was the best method to get her alone -- to find out once and for all if she was, in fact, Caleb's mysterious source -- so with a lopsided smile, he waved his free hand and encouraged, "After you. The library just so happens to be one of my favorite places to frequent."

"Women understand things that need not be said out loud. That is where our power lies."

Her grey eyes gazed at one of the men on the dance floor, careful and measured in his steps. It was clear that he knew the dance by heart and had been dancing since he was a boy. Bianca kept her gaze on him, waiting for the moment when his eyes would meet hers.

And when it did, how quickly things unfolded--lips, soft and red as a rose flashed the sweetest of smiles; eyes that gazed upon him as if he were a secret lover moved to look away. Her laugh, soft and sweet were concealed behind her fan. The poor gentleman, heady from the most subtle of attentions made a wrong turn and fell, eliciting a gasp from the other guests, with some softly chuckling at the man's embarrassment.

Bianca looked up at Ben, satisfied with her little demonstration. "...and I pride myself in my discretion." she replied as they moved away from the crowd that did not even notice their hostess leave the room with her guest.

Her library was filled with the many books she had collected over the centuries, and there were a few that she had taken with her from her palazzo in Venice, remnants of the mortal life she had left behind.

"Have you read Vom Tode für das Vaterland by Thomas Abbt?" she asked as she carefully took out the book from its place on her shelf. Bianca set it on the table, her eyes meeting his. "He talks about dying for one's fatherland--How far are you willing to go for freedom...Benjamin Tallmadge?"

Marius de Romanus: Maestro & Monstro of Venezia

HOLLIDAY GRAINGER AS LUCREZIA BORGIA | THE BORGIAS 2.04

Benjamin pursed his mouth, wondering if he'd struck a chord. "Fair enough," he offered. "As I'm sure you won't be astonished to hear, I've been told I can be a bit too forthcoming with my opinions. I suppose it's the schoolteacher in me." He shrugged. "I hear an answer, and then I'm always ready for debate...which, mercifully, hasn't ever ended in a request to duel."

Why had she not responded to his bait about Caleb, he wondered? Was this not the right woman, after all?

Bianca spoke then of her Narcissus -- evidently, she had a lover who was not able to share in her merriment -- and for a moment, there was a hint of melancholia bleeding into her voice, much like churning water in a restless brook. But before Benjamin could think to offer his condolences to such a fact, the woman turned on him with a question quite unexpected, and he balked, laughing in uneasy surprise.

"I'm afraid there isn't much to say," he said, absently running his thumb along the rim of his glass. "When I was a boy, my best friends convinced me to tug Susannah Mayhew's ribbon free of her braid, insisting that it would fetch her attention. It did not, though it did fetch me a black eye since she whacked me with her Bible." Chuckling, he continued, "And then by my thirteenth year, I was sweet on Priscilla Jenkins. I decided to show off by climbing up a tree, but then I fell and broke my arm. My antics did not lead to wooing her heart, but it did garner months of painful agony with a bone surgeon."

Must this humility go on?

Shifting beneath Bianca's gaze, a faint flush stained his cheeks at her compliment -- surely, she didn't believe such nonsense? -- and breathing a laugh, Benjamin assured her, "No, madam, I'm afraid you're much mistaken. I was a gangly, awkward child, who didn't have the faintest sense of what women desire, and then I went off to Connecticut -- New Haven, at Yale -- for my studies. I very much wished to add women to that list of exploration, but alas, it wasn't meant to be." He gestured toward her. "Truth be told, you're the first woman I've spoken to in months. The company I keep is rather singular in my present position."

She listened with amusement as he recounted the tales of his youth; it looked like no matter what century she was in, boys never seemed to understand girls.

The softest of laughs escaped her lips, and Bianca shook her head as she replied, "It seems like you need a lesson on how to speak to the fairer sex, sir."

Bianca was as they called it in her time, a cortigiane oneste; chosen from a prominent Florentine family for her education, social and conversational skills, and her intelligence. There was an art to such things and her beauty only magnified it. She wondered then if her guest would be open to such a lesson tonight; everyone was too engaged with each other to notice their hostess slip away for a few moments.

"Would you be open to a lesson? I believe my library is the perfect place for a little...tête-à-tête."