A Day In Venice
Posted on Aug 22, 2014 @ 12:22pm by Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Aug 22, 2014 @ 12:22pm
Mission: The Tangled Webs We Weave
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“A Day In Venice”
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Location: EARTH
Scene: Villa Bonviva
SD: [2.14] 0819.2345
“So that’s all I have to do? Smile a lot? And alternate that with looking bored? Really your entire career is spent going between looking happy and uninterested,” Jake joked.
Xana gave her husband what he referred to as “The Look”. “No, that is not what I do.” When he raised his left eyebrow, the Bolian/Human shook her head at that but her lips curled up as she corrected herself, “What I used to do. And cut it out that just looks smug.”
“You always told me that looked sexy,” the engineer protested, doing a fine imitation of their son.
“As your wife; if I was cross examining and didn’t know you I’d think it’s smug,” she shot back.
Looking at her list of questions she began again, “Commander Crichton, take us through the events of the destruction of the DISCOVERY.”
As Jake went to open his mouth to recount the events again they heard Benito start to yell as he came to them, “There’s an angel in the courtyard!”
Xana and Jake looked to each other at that with the same thought – there was someone in the courtyard? Beyond the Security perimeter? They bolted up as they called out for Benito to come to them. Time moved in slow motion as they bolted out the French glass doors, out to the courtyard on the cobblestones, around the side of their house past yelling for Dahlia to stay inside and keep Benito with her.
Finally by the time they reached the courtyard they saw a man looking over the waterway.
Turning around the tall Terran man with incredibly sad eyes looked at both of them. “Oh, hey I’ve got the right house,” he yawned while sagging against a chair.
Xana and Jake stared at a man they hadn’t seen in years. The azure woman moved first over to the man, “Thomas?”
Thomas Varn looked up, “Hey Xana. Don’t suppose you’ve got something to eat?”
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TI: Next Day
Jake came downstairs in his dress whites, fiddling with the collar, watching his wife putting the finishing touches on breakfast for all of them, including their guest, who had crashed in their guest room last night.
Xana looked over at her handsome husband and sighed. “Come here,” she said. Fixing his collar she reassured him, “You’ll be fine.” While Jake nodded she said, “Hey. Look at me.” When he did so she said, “We practiced this – you’re ready.”
“I know,” he replied. Giving her a quick kiss he asked, “Where are the kids? I’m surprised I don’t hear them.”
“Dahlia’s taking her shower. Benito is inside playing with Taz and Angus,” Xana replied referring to the targ and dog respectively. “And before you ask, I think Thomas is still asleep; didn’t want to wake him.” Giving a lopsided smile she said, “You don’t want to know what I had to promise Benito not to go wake him up.”
While they still talked quietly, they were oblivious to the fact that Thomas wasn’t asleep though. He watched while the 9 year old girl, her blonde hair still damp from the shower clinging to her neck, came running in as she grabbed a muffin while she sat the table chatting animatedly. The winged man watched as the engineer went and got the young boy for breakfast, carrying him in upside down to much giggles.
Thomas was hidden in the shadows of the hallway watching this extraordinarily sublime and hard-fought normalcy unfolding before him until he heard Xana mention they should go get him for breakfast. At that point he decided to make himself known; stepping out from the hallway he kept his head down so as to keep the lump in his throat hidden as if the emotional tangle was a visible tattoo on him.
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Scene: Venice, Italy
TI: 1 hour later
“So this is safe?”
Xana glared at Thomas as she continued driving her boat, she had already been driving for two minutes and had gotten that question twice already “I’ve been driving a boat for years. Now shut it and buckle up.”
“Si,” Thomas grinned, happier to ignore the tangled emotions within him. He’d rather banter—
With that the boat took off at lightning speed and bounced along the waterways, with droplets of water flying up to smack Thomas (and Dahlia and Benito who were secured in the back). “Are you sure you know how to do this?” Thomas asked again.
As Xana swerved to avoid an oncoming boat, the Human man heard her yell something that while he was not fluent in Italian he was pretty sure translated into something that had Xana questioning the other person’s parentage. “I’m fine!” she yelled. “I do this every day.”
“I was afraid of that,” he yelled back. Looking around Thomas began to wonder about his safety options. Seeing Ben and Dahlia in the back he asked, “Hey – how are you?”
Ben grinned, understanding the question Thomas was asking. “Mama drives fast.”
“Tattletale,” Xana grinned as she yelled back.
Dahlia rolled her eyes under her sunglasses which were just like the ones her mother wore. “Actually you usually go faster than this. I think you’re just being slow because we have a guest,” she goaded her mother.
“Go slow,” Thomas advised. Between the speed at which Xana was taking the curves in the narrow waterways and the speed of the oncoming boats; the Science officer was beginning to question his judgment in coming.
“I thought you were a pilot at one time,” Xana said.
“IN SPACE,” Thomas pointed out. “There’s a *difference*.”
Xana waved a hand as if that was a trifling matter. Suddenly she made a hairpin turn that had the boat leaning on a side and Ben squealing with delight. That last turn dumped them out into the main lagoon of Venice.
“Oh,” Thomas said.
“Oh,” Xana grinned.
Suddenly what had been narrow waterways framed by brightly colored tall homes now lead to a wide sunny lagoon. On one side was a row of majestic buildings at the end of which (as far as Thomas could see) was the famous San Marco’s towering over the Venetian skyline. On the other side of the lagoon were more majestic buildings of varying heights with piers jutting out. From those piers were every small craft imaginable – from the gondoliers that Venice was known for, to water buses and taxis, to private crafts like they were in now.
“So Venice really doesn’t approve of hovercrafts?” Thomas asked.
“No,” Xana said. “Back in the 20th century they didn’t allow for what was known as automobiles or some kind of land-craft. I’m not a historian but basically it started then. If it wasn’t a boat, or a bicycle or scooter, you can’t drive it around Venice. And as we’re a city of islands, you need a boat or transporter.”
Thomas looked around at the buildings until finally Xana drove past them into the open waterways. He looked over at her but she said nothing, her eyes inscrutable under her dark sunglasses. She had insisted on taking him around since he had never been around Venice. While he insisted it wasn’t necessary she seemed to get a kick out of it, and quite frankly, he had nowhere else to go and he knew he was imposing upon her to begin with.
After another few minutes Xana pulled up to a public dock and announced, “Alright, first stop. Everyone out.”
“Are we going on a tour?” Dahlia asked as she unbuckled herself.
“We are after we look around,” Xana explained.
Thomas followed along, not sure what was going on, content to let the events unfold. He looked up at a red brick building that had a white sign that stated “Marco Polo FORNACE”. He gave a puzzled look to Xana but followed her and the kids inside.
It was a large, cavernous, hot room. Along the back wall there were several high windows and under them were several large brick ovens. In the middle of the room were several stations were various men and women moved around molding and shaping—
“Glass,” Thomas exhaled. “They’re making glass. They’re actually making glass.” Looking at Xana he said, “They still make glass here.”
Smiling Xana said, “They make crystalline, enameled, aventurine, millefiori, and lattimo glass. Everything from glass art to chandeliers to wine stoppers are made and sold here.”
Clearly the glassmakers knew they were coming and told them to stand back as they the artisans melted flux softened at a lower temperature, allowing it to solidify. While that was happening another glassmaker was able to step in and shape it to the desired product. As to be expected not all items worked out as expected and so the glassmakers had to start over; often with vociferous descriptors.
After a while they left the workroom to go to display room. Some pieces were for display only – they were artwork too beautiful to belong to one person. Other items could be procured by individuals.
Thomas watched as the kids looked around, bemused as Benito tried to understand the fragility of glass and Dahlia struggling to decide the fanciful unicorn or the “serious” bird trinket.
“That’s a millefiore piece,” Xana said from behind him.
Thomas looked at the pendant with flowers that he hadn’t been realizing he stared at. “And next you’re going to tell me it means something,” he scoffed. “Well it doesn’t.”
“Ok,” Xana replied. “Well if it means nothing then we can go.”
Thomas followed her, trying not to thinking about the pendant.
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“I need to go to San Michele,” Xana said softly.
Thomas looked over at her. “Sure.” After a moment he asked, “What’s San Michele?”
Venice was made up of 118 islands but there was only reason why people went to San Michele.
“It’s a cemetery,” she said as she came up to the high tan walled island. Pausing she said,
“Look, I know this isn’t why you came for a visit. I won’t be long, you can stay here—“
Thomas gave her a look, “No I can go.”
With that the four of them got out of the boat, and Xana grabbed the pink roses that had been in the back. It took some time to walk on the grass, past the headstones but Thomas trusted Xana knew where she was going.
Sure enough they found a small black headstone several rows in and several deep that had who they were looking for:
Corina Bonviva
Beloved Daughter and Sister
Tapping her children’s noses she said, “Hey guys give me a minute? Grazie.” Watching her kids run off, Xana smiled. Thomas nodded and walked off keeping one eye on the kids and one eye on Xana who sank to the ground. He watched she dusted off the headstone; lay the roses on the ground. For the longest time she simply held her hands over mouth, as if she was afraid of what would come out, the need to stifle the emotions was too strong an impulse within her.
Then in a loving motion she brushed the headstone again and got up walking over. Instinctively her eyes scanned the horizon. “Ah, there they are,” she sighed.
“That was your sister,” Thomas said. When Xana looked at him he clarified, “Your father mentioned her.”
Xana gave him a look. “She was my twin,” she corrected softly, her voice breaking on the breeze. “She died twenty-five years ago today, I’ve lived longer without her than with her, but I’ve always felt her. Or her absence.”
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TI: That night
The rest of the day Xana took Thomas around Venice, his visit culminating back where it started – in her family’s restaurant – the Devil’s Delight.
Sitting in a booth, Thomas looked at her and said, “I’m surprised.”
“I am too. I would have guessed that Benito would have eaten all the garlic bread by now,” Xana admitted.
Thomas gave a half-smile. “No, I mean I figured you would have pushed me for a reason why I’m here.”
“Why push, it’s only taken 12 hours for you to volunteer,” Xana grin.
“I’m still not volunteering,” Thomas shot back.
The Bolian/Human nodded. Sipping her wine she thought about Thomas and what her father told her the other day. “Fair enough, this is what I think and feel. You’re in pain. And you’re in love. And it’s all intertwined, so much so you can’t tell where one begins and one ends. I know what that’s like. I’ve been burying people for a long time, so yes I know about pain. I’ve felt them die, watched them die. Railed at them for it. Carried around them in my heart for far longer than was healthy. But let me tell you, if the pain doesn’t end when you bury them, neither does the love.”
Xana sipped her wine again. “How am I doing?”
“You’re leaving Venice?” Thomas asked.
“Oh that good?” Xana replied. “Fine here we go. It’s rare to find someone you want to wake up to, and they want to wake up next to you. But here’s the sucker punch, once you find that person it’s so easy to screw it up. So yes, I’m leaving Venice. I *love* my home. I *love* my career. But none of those things are my family. None of those things are going to hold my hand when I’m scared or make me laugh. I’m not going to grow old with my career and I’m not going to have a city for support if I get sick. That’s what my husband is for. Maybe we could make it work if we’re both traveling but it’s damned hard if we’re always a quadrant away.”
Leaning in she said, “It’s scary because I don’t know if this will work, and I’m saying that about the love of my life, about the man I’ve been married to for *years*. So I’m not saying this lightly. But Thomas…I’d rather do this than stay here and be Secretary. What’s my alternative? Have a hole in my heart? Whatever you’re carrying in you, it’s not healthy. I carried around the memory of a dead sister and a dead husband so trust me when I say it’s not good to let yourself be burdened by – whatever this thing is.”
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NRPG: And that’s where I’m ending - enough navel gazing for now! Next post will be political and far less depressing I promise.
Justin: Hope this met with what you wanted for Thomas!
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Sarah Albertini-Bond
Xana Bonviva