Victoria pulled her dagger from the nightstand by her bed, and in one languid motion, cut several inches of length off her robes. She peered closer, inspecting her handiwork. It was a bit ragged, but it would do. She slipped the robes around herself, and took a cursory glance at the nearby mirror. A smirking version of herself stared back, insolently. Victoria’s robes were now just above her knees, and her hasty knife styling’s actually seemed to work in her favor. The robes fell at an angle, creating a diagonal slope up her thighs. Victoria smiled, tentatively. Dare she say it, she rather liked this new style.
She grabbed her things, and glanced at her window. A tiny beam of light shone in. It was still early, but if she wanted to slip away unnoticed, she had to do it now. Victoria gently slid open the door of her bedroom, and shut the door behind her, as she made to tiptoe down the hallway unseen. Her eyes found the unassuming niche in the wall that indicated the doorway to the Other Sisterhood. Victoria pushed slowly against it, and the door slid open. She was immediately assaulted by the warm, wet morning air. To her delight, her vision was not impaired by the night, so she quickened her pace down the familiar cobblestone pathway, and into the open air.
To her surprise, the forest took on a different nature, in the ethereal morning light. The grass, as green as the pines surrounding it, was deeply imprinted by several paths. One, Victoria recognized, led towards the direction that she must have gone, the night she met Roman. Several others spiraled off in different directions; back towards the convent, or through the brush. Victoria looked to the sky, and gasped, when she spotted the faint horizon line of the city. It was straight ahead, towards where Roman’s camp had been. Victoria checked her surroundings, as all good assassins do, before heading off towards the city.
As she stumbled through the brush, feeling only slightly less clumsy than she had at night, she wondered, briefly, if Roman had ever ventured into the forest, in the morning. She shook her head. Why was she thinking about Roman again?
Victoria continued heading north, stopping every so often to watch a squirrel, or other forest creature. It wasn’t often she’d had the chance to be away from the convent. In truth, it was never. The farthest she’d been from the convent, was to her secluded spot in the nearby forest clearing. The spot that Roman had, a short time later, infiltrated. Victoria flared her nostrils at Roman’s blatant disturbance of her area, but as she fished the memory from the back of her mind, she remembered how Roman had told her, that he was watching her. It concerned her to no end, but the way in which he said it, and how his eyes had never once strayed from hers, made her blood pulse in a way, that was not entirely fueled by fear.
Timed passed, and Victoria’s legs began to grow weary. It seemed as if she had been walking in circles for hours. She looked up, hoping to the see the city’s horizon line appear to be closer. She squinted. She just barely make out several rows of windows on each of the buildings, which must be an improvement, she thought desperately. Victoria made plans to find a hand watch as soon as she got into the city.
She trudged on, for what seemed like forever. When she was finally to the point, where she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to go on for much longer, the density of the forest began to thin. The pine trees, once so close together that it was hard to see between them, thinned out, and to Victoria’s surprise, and relief, she spotted a downward sloping section of the forest. She quickened her pace, her renewed excitement giving her bursts of energy. She neared the slope, and saw a tiny, but well-kept path leading downwards. It was smooth, and still smelled of whatever material used to make it. Victoria stepped onto the path, and walked, tentatively, downhill. When she reached the bottom, in front of her stood a large sign. Large, red letters that were slightly peeling at the bottom, read: “GRACELIEN NATIONAL FOREST AND HISTORIC BUILDINGS."
Victoria stared at the sign for a moment more, before she registered what it was saying. She bristled at being considered some historical piece of property, but she was too curious to let it last. She wasn’t a complete stranger to the world outside the convent. She’d read books, and gotten her proper education, like anyone other child, but she’d never truly experienced it. Victoria continued forward, as the path lead her towards the city, and as she did, she felt a chill of fear. She always liked to know what she was up against, but now, she might as well have been blindfolded and gagged, because all she knew was that she was walking into a whole another world, and that wasn't exactly comforting.
The path she was following widened slightly into a narrow road. For automobiles, Victoria presumed, and she made a point to stick close to the sides of the road. She continued on, walking as quickly as her legs would take her, stealing glances left and right. She passed a small home, with a thatch roof, and a good bit of land in front of it, where several cows grazed, lazily. Victoria passed a few more just like it, before surmising that she must be in the outskirts of the city. To her left, she spotted a lake, where several white sailing boats, that looked tiny from a distance, drifted serenely across the water.
As she neared the city, the peaceful air of the outskirts began to disappear, and noise returned in its place. Victoria narrowed her eyes to see what was up ahead, and she almost stopped walking out of pure confusion. Up ahead, a mass of the smooth, black roads she had encountered earlier, seemed to be all jumbled together, leaving no clear path of where to go. That can’t be right, Victoria thought, the automobiles can’t possibly just drive into one another. She slowed her pace, so that she could look around. As she passed by the automobiles on foot, she could feel the stares of their occupants, like lasers, on the back of her neck.
She wove between the cars, eliciting honks and angry protests, trying to find her way into the city. She passed by a car of teenage boys, yelling “Come here, kitty kitty” and whistling at the top of their lungs. Victoria darted off to the side, where she found refuge under a narrow overpass. She walked quickly, the commotion from the city traffic still rubbing her nerves. The overpass, she discovered quickly, was for “Pedestrians”, indicated by a bright red octagonal sign, with an image of a walking man. She continued across the overpass, melding into the crowd around here. Must be getting close to the city, Victoria thought.
As she walked, she was struck by several observations at once. One, people were staring at her. Victoria looked down, subconsciously, at her robes. She had thought they were all right. Perhaps not of the latest fashion, but not so atrocious that people would stare. And two, Victoria remembered, as she flattened her robes nervously, no one looked the slightest bit like her. She knew her clothes would be different, of course, but as she passed by more and more women who looked to be about her age, she could help but wonder why they were all so different. They carried themselves differently, they spoke differently, with an accent she couldn’t place, and they were all just standing around, doing nothing. Victoria supposed she thought it was odd, considering there was always something to do at the convent, but she wasn’t sure what people did her age, if they weren’t cooking, cleaning, or the like. Is this their idea of fun? Victoria wondered, and her mouth gaped open, as she stared unabashedly at those around her. She could see the end of the pathway approaching, culminating in a small gazebo.
Beyond the gazebo, Victoria could see the city in all its glory. She hurried along, and as she reached the gazebo and made to pass through it, a tall bar swung from her right side, barring her entrance. “What the—?” She stepped back out of surprise, and whipped her head around, looking for whatever was preventing her from entering the city. As she did, a man stepped out from a small booth in the corner of the gazebo, and positioned himself in front of her. Victoria kicked herself mentally. What kind of assassin was she, if she didn’t even see this guy, before he managed to step two feet away from her.
The man was short, with beady, weary eyes, and he was sporting an odd looking uniform. It looked slightly ridiculous, and for a moment, Victoria was reminded of a cartoon character from a book she’d had as a child. “50 cents toll, as per usual. Red box is for change, green box is for coins.” The man spoke, and Victoria was jolted from her thoughts. She turned to the left, in the direction he was staring. Indeed, there were two unassuming metal boxes, one red and one green. Victoria turned back to the man. “I don’t have money for the toll.” Her voice sounded strange, compared to the man’s, she noticed. His accent was thick and brusque, and fit that of the teenagers who’d been yelling at her. Her own accent, she realized, was lilting, and melodic. Briefly, she wondered why the two accents differed so much, for as she was concerned, the convent wasn’t on a different continent, it was just an hour away. Her thoughts were cut short, as the gate in front of her suddenly swung open. Her eyes flew up to the man, as she prepared to explain that she hadn’t paid the toll, so she didn’t know why the gate opened anyways. Victoria stepped back, assuming she wasn’t allowed to pass through, and found herself colliding with a hard body. She whirled around, and found herself face to face with Roman.
Victoria felt her breath catch in her throat, and as her eyes traveled the length of his body, her breathing grew shallower. He looked just as he had the last time she saw him, and his sudden appearance, as usual, did nothing for her nerves. She stepped back, compelled by the sudden remembrance of the fact that just a short time ago, he had once again, tried to kill her. “Victoria, it is so nice to see you again." Roman looked down at her, and Victoria searched his face for any trace of insincerity. Much to her disappointment, and slight surprise, she could find none.
He was still staring at her, mouth slightly open, poised to ask her a question. The little voice in her mind, the one she had not heard in a while, piped up, with its sly, implicating voice; “Where have you been all my life, Roman?” Victoria ignored the voice still greatly anticipating whatever it was Roman planned to say to her. “Victoria, you’ve got to move. The line will be all the way outside of the city, in a moment.” Roman’s voice, and subsequently, his lack of a love confession forced Victoria from her daydreaming, and she turned abruptly, and walked quickly through the gate, shaking her head as she did. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but it felt completely foreign. The little voice seemed to have its own ideas, and no matter what she did to shoo it from her mind, it kept coming back, louder and louder each time. Victoria sighed, and groaned inwardly as she replayed in her mind what she must have looked like standing open-mouthed, before Roman. Desperate, needy, two words she never, in a lifetime wanted to be able to describe herself with.
It was all Roman’s fault, really. Perhaps if he’d stop trying to kill her, she wouldn’t be so on edge, and her nerves wouldn’t be so susceptible to…other feelings. While Victoria debated furiously with herself, Roman approached from behind, surprising her with his closeness for the second time that day. This time, however, she was ready. She worked her face into a mask of pure impassivity, a face that any poker player would envy. “Roman. You have my thanks for paying the toll, back there. I admit, I wasn’t expecting that.” To Victoria’s satisfaction, her voice came as cool and collected as she had hoped. She even felt confident enough to smirk. Just a tiny smirk, nothing too facetious, but one she hoped would distract Roman from her awful, love-sick puppy display, just a few minutes earlier.
He just shrugged, and Victoria felt her confidence leave her as quickly as a deflated balloon. “It’s a new toll. Something about tax money.” Roman began walking the path up to the city, leaving Victoria to stand there, and gape. “Well, come along then. I’d hate to see you arrested.” He turned, and to Victoria’s utter disbelief, winked, and continued on, even daring to whistle jauntily as he went.
Victoria narrowed her eyes, and broke into a jog to keep up with him. “Arrested for what, exactly?” “Loitering, of course.” “They can’t do that, and you know it.” “Of course they can. Unfortunately, Victoria, this is the city. They can do anything they like. Think of the police as, say, legal assassins.” “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” In truth, Victoria didn’t know if he was exaggerating or not. She just hoped he was. “Am I?” Roman laughed, clutching his stomach as he did. And for some bizarre reason, Victoria felt the urge to laugh as well. Don’t do it. She steeled herself, and reminded herself that just two weeks ago, he had been on the verge of killing her. It was almost funny at how easy it was to forget, when she was standing right next to him.
As Roman’s laughter subsided, the silence grew heavy with all Victoria’s unspoken questions. The two rounded a bend, as the path into the city began to incline upwards. “It’s going to be a bit steep here.” Roman remarked, and for a brief second, Victoria couldn’t imagine why he felt the need to tell her this. She had feet for herself, and although she might be locked away in a convent most of the time, even she understood the concept of a hill. She was then caught completely off guard, when Roman grabbed her hand, to guide her up the hill. Instantly, Victoria shrank back a little, leaving her hand to lie limply in his. If he noticed her hesitation, he said nothing, and continued to steer her up the incline.
When the two finally approached the top of the hill, Victoria snatched back her hand. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Roman to touch her, because much to her embarrassment, she liked the feeling of his hand on hers. But as an assassin at heart, she wanted to know why. She was perfectly capable of carrying herself up a steep hill; she was not some fragile baby doll, something she thought she proved two weeks ago. But then why had Roman insisted on holding her hand? As her mind sifted through all the possible answers, she grew more curious with each possibility. There was one, however, that she wasn’t sure she could believe. The possibility that, for a small moment in time, Roman had actually wanted to hold her hand. That he enjoyed the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. It sent shivers through her body, and she dared a glance at Roman.