circle7 | the historian's secrets (cologne)

Vico brushed into the room with a clear air of irritation, obvious from even the sound of his footfall as he stomped up the stairs, and clearer yet when he all but kicked open the door and slammed it shut again, throwing his heavier weapons onto one of the beds of the room they had rented during their (hopefully) short stay in Germany. Foreign missions, higher in priority, also cost higher, in terms of resources and time spent, and it was customary for recruits to be gone up to an entire week while carrying out the Brotherhood's orders in unfamiliar lands. There was situating, scouting, and planning involved, all made more difficult because neither of them knew the streets of Cologne quite like they knew those of Romagna, and the patience required in the preparation stage of the mission was wearing on Vico's not-quite-infinite supply of patience.

When he pulled down his hood, mussing up the brown curls on the top of his head, Vico rubbed at a particularly impressive bruise forming on his left cheek, small, compact, and shaped like a rounded rectangle. They had seen enough of such bruises to know that it was probably the work of a well-timed and well-aimed punch, most likely one that Vico had returned with just as much accuracy and probably three times as much force. "These Germans are more skittish than the pigeons in Italy," he muttered, as means of explanation, perhaps. "They jump at every little thing, it is ridiculous!" He waved an arm, expressive as his Italian blood made him, and threw it up at the ceiling as if cursing some imaginary god up there. "You so much as breathe the wrong way and they start pointing their spears at you!"

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A telltale pull of one end of his mouth gave Vico away. "Ah, I would not have expected it, from a man of your skill and aptitude," he remarked, sitting up and taking the bandages from Adamo's dirtied hand. "Turn around, it is my turn."

"Tch. He got lucky, that's all. I was in a hurry."

Putting the bandages within Vico's reach, he turned sideways where the wound was facing the other man. He took off his bracer sliding the reddened sleeve up to clear the area. (His sleeve, too, needed some repair - but he lacked the materials for that.) It looked worse than it was, the blood having smeared across the skin from not tending to it. The cut itself was fairly smooth, and while deep, the bleeding had stopped for the most part.

Though he spent a few moments simply inspecting the wound, turning the arm less-than-gently from side to side, Vico also made quick work of wrapping it up, staving off further bleeding and hopefully putting off infection until they had the chance to ride back to Romagna. The blade had sliced neatly across, and thankfully Adamo did not seem to have rolled around in the mud afterward, so there was little to clean. At most, it would make two-handed sword-wielding a pain in the culo for a while, but otherwise, Vico did not spare much worry for it.

When he was done, he dragged himself up to his feet, heavily leaning his weight on his good leg as he did so. Stubborn and proud, he didn't ask for help, but either way, the pain was inevitable. "The ride is going to be hell," Vico said with a small laugh as he dropped himself onto the bed, wincing when the impact shot a jolt of pain up his side. His eyes were closed; the weariness of the day had to be catching up to him, and like he had been as a child, Vico did not deal well with sleepiness. It almost always came out the victor.

"Vai a dormire, amico," Adamo said, though he well knew he hardly had to tell Vico that. He made sure to stash their weapons and evidence of any wounds away, just in case, before going to his own bed to rest off the day. The bed didn't offer the same comfort as the one at home, but it was welcome nonetheless, and sleep took hold almost as quickly as it did Vico.

the historian's secrets (cologne)

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