<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=20&amp;t=7827">OOC</a><br/>~<br/><br/>Venice was a grand city; not only was the architecture magnificent but t was unique with its canals running through the streets, enabling quick travel by those who could afford to take boats through them. However, the unfortunate part was something interesting: one would think that because Venice has various canals running through it that it would be cooler when it was actually the opposite. During the summer, it was usually rather humid and often miserable. And sometimes stagnant water was the perfect breeding ground for parasites and disease, which the people have taken extra precautionary measures to avoid since the Great Plague hit just forty years ago and remained somewhat a threat or so the people were told.<br/><br/>The Templars told the public whatever they damn well pleased to keep them in check.<br/><br/>Domenico hummed softly to himself as he walked along the streets. He kept his head high, back straight, like a confident person would even in this hour of the morning. He carried a bag filled with various medical supplies as well as a strong poison that was more than likely highly illegal but he offered it anyway as it was also a very strong medicine when used in small doses. He constantly worried about disease. Having lost a majority of his family in the plague, save for his father, his paranoia was always on edge.<br/><br/>He usually set up shop near the heart of the city, but today he was closer to one of the only boats that travel to and from the city every few hours. Domenico was not someone who liked to break routine, but he made no objection when they have him his orders, as they did control his pay. Once he reached his location, he neatly organized his things, still humming that same tune. Unlike most doctors, who had a cart stand, he had an actual shop where he worked. It was a sort of personal preference of his since he was not a fan of being mugged and having his things stolen. The Templars happily gave him what he wanted for the most part and they almost always accepted his terms. You could say that sometimes he got special treatment because they knew Domenico was much too valuable to let slip out of their grasp.<br/><br/>Someone with both a borderline personality mental illness and a skill for making powerful poisons was not common, after all. They were easy to keep in line if you knew exactly what to say to them and sound convincing enough.<br/><br/>No sooner had he set up shop, a little boy came up to him, crying in pain. His arm was covered in blood; a minor injury from what Domenico would tell. â€œI hurt my arm.â€ The boy said, holding it up as best he could. The boy was young, about the age of maybe ten or eleven. Children played rough with each other so it was no surprise that one of his first customers would happen to be a child. But he questioned where his parents were for a moment. Surely they were close by? Why would parents leave their child to roam about unsupervised? Then again in a city like thisâ€¦<br/><br/>â€œOh my, thatâ€™s quite the scrape. Children these days need to be more careful.â€ Domenico chuckled lightly while he glanced through his supplies, finding the suitable ointment for the wound. He applied it then bandaged the childâ€™s arm before sending him on his way. If he said he hated his job he would be lying but then again if he said he loved it he wouldnâ€™t be completely truthful either. There was good and bad in everything. He came to learn that fast growing up.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>â€œHoly shit itâ€™s hotâ€¦â€ Emanuel muttered to himself with a sigh as he briefly ran a hand across his forehead. It was hot as hell out here today, typical summer, and humid to boot. There has been an unusual outbreak in violence since the Templars began strutting through the streets. Things just keep getting worse and worse by the day, honestly it was quite frustrating having to clean up dead bodies every other week. Sometimes two or three times a week when it got real bad, it was really starting to wear on him. Having depression was bad enough but seeing death almost every day was just icing on the cake and always seemed to make it worse. Any day now, he could be next, if not him than his family and he was not bound to let that happen.<br/><br/>Andâ€¦ just greatâ€¦ Even just fucking thinking about death was enough to trigger his depression. Luckily he was in a secluded enough place where he could have one of his pathetic depression â€˜breakdownsâ€™ in peace. It felt like someone had thrown him to the ground and stomped on his chest repeatedly, and then kept their foot there like a weight on him.<br/><br/>Yeah, he was a mess. He wouldnâ€™t deny it if he was even called out on it, which he often was. It was a miracle that he hasnâ€™t slit his own throat yet and supposed that family was the only thing holding him back from committing the act. Otherwise he would have quit years ago, when he resorted to being a part of the city guard to make money. Oh how he was regretting so many of his past decisionsâ€¦ And how he often beats himself over it no matter how silly it may seem.<br/><br/>And no matter how hard he tried to stay away from this little underground war going on, the more he was dragged deeper into it. Unintentionally, of course, but it was just one of those things that came with the territory.<br/><br/>Whenever he felt like this, he knew just who to visit to give him what he needed to make him feel right again. It didnâ€™t always help but at least he could get himself to where he could function for the rest of the day without flying off the handle too much. Today, however, didnâ€™t really seem like a day to shirk duties. It was one of those gut feelings where it felt like if he ignored it he would regret it later. Emanuel shook his head and didnâ€™t think much of it other than taking note. He wasnâ€™t in the mood for attention to detail so to speak though he probably should regardless. With everything going on vigilance was quite important, not something to be disregarded. Fortunately for the petty criminals and troublemakers that skulked about he didnâ€™t give a shit about vigilance in his current mood. He wanted his little â€˜fixâ€™ if you will.<br/><br/>It wasnâ€™t often that he drank, and he knew he shouldnâ€™t in case someone ratted him out about it. But he knew he had to do what needed so he could get through the rest of the day. And due to his lack of being able to hold his liquor he often became a bit more irritable when heâ€™s had a bit to drink no matter what time of day it was.<br/><br/>The victim of his mildly violent yet self loathing mood? A poor thief who was looking for a bite to eat, the shop owner was away so he decided to just take some fruit. Emanuel confronted the thief, the thief stood still for a moment startled that he had been caught red handed, but after a moment of tense conversation the bastard ran off and he was forced to chase after him.<br/><br/>At least it got his mind off being depressed.