Jedao gasps as he steps into the city, wide-eyed with wonder and delight. He can feel the network of canals, the warrens of rivers and quays, the old stones and the island-speckled deep lagoon beyond. Even drowned New York wasn't anything like this. He's caught between staring and closing his eyes entirely, sinking into his mothsense, tracing the waterways like veins, or nerves, the way a composer might close his eyes when listening to music.
The stunning blue of sea and sky together, flashing and winking between the buildings, wins the contest in favor of sight as Jedao trails after Iago, not entirely managing not to gape.
Iago loves his city, despite what he might otherwise say, and he is genuinely touched that Jedao has taken such a deep interest. He takes him through the city slowly, explaining his favorite places, recalling a few stories here and there.
"This man here sold cheese. The finest cheese in all of Venice. He never seemed to run out! I always kept coins with me for it when I would pass by," he says, noticing him watching the water.
"The ocean is beautiful when she's filled with ships," he adds.
"Time, tesoro. Time and love and the most brilliant minds."
He lets go of his hand and places it on the small of his back as they reach the harbor. "Get your fill of it here," he says softly. "I'll take you down the canals next."
"I can...feel it," Jedao admits, a more closely guarded secret than being able to move things around. "I can feel weight in space, I can feel the difference between the water and the stone. It's so intricate."
At first, he doesn't quite understand, but as Jedao explains, Iago feels the weight of this revelation. He stands closer. "It must be marvelous," he mutters. "To see how precious she is from another angle."
Iago takes him towards the canal and onto a small boat that he steps onto
easily, fearlessly, especially for someone who still doesn't know how to
swim.
He holds out a hand for Jedao. The fact that it's unecessary has no bearing
on his decision to do so.
It's very gentlemanly, Jedao thinks, dashing and romantic; he's obviously delighted by it, grinning as he takes Iago's hand and stepping lightly after him.
Iago positions himself with steady feet and takes the oar, kicking them off
the dock to give a proper tour. He sneaks glances at Jedao as he points out
various landmarks and enjoys the scenery, wanting to judge his reaction.
Jedao is delighted; he gasps at common seabirds and the Grand Canal alike. At Saint Mark's, he asks, "Oh, I know this, that's Christian, right?" and looks proud of himself for remembering 'local' planet Earth trivia.
"Yes, tesoro, it is Christian. Most things here are, though there are influences from ancient Rome in some of the architecture. Venice, though, she is..." He sets down the oar and maneuvers himself beside Jedao as they drift along the quiet current. "She is her own place with her own memories. I am told that she retains this beauty for hundreds of years."
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Jedao gasps as he steps into the city, wide-eyed with wonder and delight. He can feel the network of canals, the warrens of rivers and quays, the old stones and the island-speckled deep lagoon beyond. Even drowned New York wasn't anything like this. He's caught between staring and closing his eyes entirely, sinking into his mothsense, tracing the waterways like veins, or nerves, the way a composer might close his eyes when listening to music.
The stunning blue of sea and sky together, flashing and winking between the buildings, wins the contest in favor of sight as Jedao trails after Iago, not entirely managing not to gape.
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"This man here sold cheese. The finest cheese in all of Venice. He never seemed to run out! I always kept coins with me for it when I would pass by," he says, noticing him watching the water.
"The ocean is beautiful when she's filled with ships," he adds.
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"They're so woven together. It's like...a mer-city."
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He does know that, and he guides him down a few streets that will lead to the harbor.
"Mercity," he says, pushing the words together with a smile. "I like that."
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He lets go of his hand and places it on the small of his back as they reach the harbor. "Get your fill of it here," he says softly. "I'll take you down the canals next."
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"It's like...a great palace of lace."
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He leans his head against his shoulder.
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Iago takes him towards the canal and onto a small boat that he steps onto easily, fearlessly, especially for someone who still doesn't know how to swim.
He holds out a hand for Jedao. The fact that it's unecessary has no bearing on his decision to do so.
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Iago positions himself with steady feet and takes the oar, kicking them off the dock to give a proper tour. He sneaks glances at Jedao as he points out various landmarks and enjoys the scenery, wanting to judge his reaction.
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"Yes, tesoro, it is Christian. Most things here are, though there are influences from ancient Rome in some of the architecture. Venice, though, she is..." He sets down the oar and maneuvers himself beside Jedao as they drift along the quiet current. "She is her own place with her own memories. I am told that she retains this beauty for hundreds of years."
He slides an arm around him.
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