(no subject)

[assassino]

Who: Ezio Auditore and youuu
What: Running about sadly.
When: Tonighhhttt.
Where: The roof!
Rating: PG idek



He’s been at a loss for days.

So many others make announcements –– so-and-so is gone, such-and-such has left the Castle. Ezio isn’t sure how to do that. He’s seen many people to their deaths and given them some fashion of last rites, but he’s never informed someone of a death personal to him. Not since his father or his brothers, but even then, it’d gone a little unsaid. It had been in a crisis, when he’d been awake for countless hours and been running non-stop and had blood on his hands.

This was a lazy afternoon, and it happened in utter silence.

He wonders what the last thing he said to them was –– surely for Stephanie it was a goodbye of some sort, a kiss on her cheek, a few wisps of blonde hair escaped from her ponytail and tickling his face. He’d surely grinned and teased her about something as he waved and headed off down the hall, back towards his room. Perhaps she’d left shortly after that, stretched out in bed for an afternoon nap after their lunch date.

Cassandra, he knows what he said to her last –– it was a cheery “a presto” and that pet name he’d started using for her, maialina. He’d finally peeled himself from bed after pressing one last kiss to the tip of her nose. She is different from Italian girls, in some ways, from the modest roundness of her nose to her softer cheeks, her larger eyes… everything about her is special, even her nickname. He’d picked one for her that he hadn’t used on any other girl before, too, because he thought the girl he’d committed himself to deserved that.

And now he’s alone again.

-x-

Ezio walks the line of the castle’s ramparts without even looking, as if he weren’t mere inches from tumbling off the edge and falling to his death. The leather soles of his boots are soft, so the occasional veer to the side isn’t any trouble — his toes just curl around the edge for an instant and he keeps going. It’s an unthinking gesture. He shifts his weight, he corrects himself, he walks.

He has to do something to keep himself busy, even if it’s scaling the castle unharnessed, even if it’s pacing the ramparts like some sort of deranged tightrope walker. If he doesn’t, he’ll drink or mourn or sleep, and right now he doesn’t fancy any. It’s been a long week of that, anyway.

So for now, he indulges in a bit of free-running.

Comments

[molotov]

Stephanie and Cassandra were far from the only ones gone now. It had been quite some time since the castle threw so many people away in one fell swoop, and of course Mary had been one of the casualties.

Figured. The closest thing Molotov ever made to a female friend in this place, and she was gone in the blink of an eye, not even around long enough to spend a night watching dumb movies and baking cookies, or whatever it was that girlfriends were supposed to do together.

It's been long enough for Molotov to know that "keeping occupied" always ultimately fails, or winds up leaving her in outlandish situations, and so she tends to not bother anymore.

The roof, however, retains its comforts. Sitting lotus-style on a rampart, smoking and looking out over the eerily perfect beauty of Paradisa's landscape. Watching the always flawless, always fully visible moon in the sky.

She expects to be alone, frankly, given how few people left might be prone to roof-sitting, particularly at night, and that's how Molotov would really prefer her. Just her, her cigarettes, and her bottle of rum -- not exactly to her own tastes, but the most fitting tribute she could think of.

Raising the bottle slightly to the moon, she calls the toast out silently, in her own head, because there's no one to hear it or care anyhow.

To Mary Read. To James Kidd. To the pirates.

[assassino]

If he were paying any less attention, Ezio might have tripped over Molotov or just plain crashed into her when he came along her side of the castle, but instead he jumps over her –– considerable, given she's sitting upright. On her other side, he drops down into a crouch and then sits properly, legs dangling over the edge.

He's not even going to bother asking if she wants company.

[molotov]

Molotov doesn't even flinch as Ezio sails over her. Anyone watching would think she had been expecting it, like the two of them were an old-time circus act, practiced and prepared.

She doesn't say anything either, barely even glances at him from the corner of her eye before handing down the rum bottle. She doubts he cares for it, if he's ever even had it before, but sharing is caring, and the both of them are running lower and lower on people to care for.

[assassino]

He takes it and drinks. He's never had rum, but good thing he's used to trying new things now.

"I think you are nearing being one of the oldest residents now, you know."

[molotov]

"Crowley's the oldest, but me, Samson, Spike, we are getting there," Molotov says slowly, breathing out cigarette smoke. "You cannot even be that far behind, at this point."

She closes her eye for a moment, opening it only to peek at him from the corner. "You couldn't have held onto them forever, you know."

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss doesn't normally roam the roofs - she still doesn't particularly like heights - but she's missing Mark tonight so she is sitting up where he liked to run his show on the roof. Sitting, in a lazy cross-legged position, she looks up to the stars and wonders, not for the first time, if she should bring the music back.

After talking to Ben, it seems like a better idea all the time.

She jerked with surprise when she heard the scrabbling noise of leather against stone, reaching for her arrow and drawing it, just as Ezio appeared. She cursed, before dropping her shot. "God Damn It, Ezio! I could have killed you!"

[assassino]

Ezio almost laughs –– almost. He's tired and emotionally worn out, but he's still got the same flippant response to nearly getting killed as always.

"A few arrows would not stop me, dolcezza," he says, with his usual Italian flippancy.

He slows to a stop, too, crouching down next to her and leaning his elbows on his knees. No matter now shitty he feels, he puts on a teasing smile for her.

"Besides, if you had tried, I think I might have taken them anyway, just in case they were Cupid's arrows!"

[the_effect_she_has]

She rolls her eyes at that, as she tucks her arrow away again. "We would have seen if you really believed that, after I shot you through the throat accidentally."

She doesn't lean back, arching an eyebrow at him, with a faint smirk.

"Please, as if we don't know you could have ducked out of the way of those, easily enough."

[assassino]

He hops off the rampart, moving to sit down next to her.

"Ahh!" He smiles, almost blithely. "I have taken a good number of arrows in my days, but have dodged a fair number, too. You know how good I am."

[the_effect_she_has]

She folded her knees in, giving him the same dry look, but she smiled at the end of it.

"Yes, I do. You're a regular shadow. One day you'll have to teach me your tricks."

[deadlybanker]

The roof was a fine place to get away from the others, to think, or in Giovanni's case not to. There had been far too many hours spent over books, charts, and maps trying to discover more about the castle and its many strange quirks. And for all that effort he had very little to show from the research beyond a some what greater understanding of the more modern conveniences of the castle and a firm belief that riding that thing called the 'elevator' might not result in injury. A theory not yet tested.

This was a break for him. A chance to take to the roof and, after making certain none were around, to indulge in a little light training. The throwing knife sailed through the air sticking deep into the makeshift wooden target with a resounding thunk. The board was just a piece of scrap left over from some local's project but it made for a sturdy enough target and from the look of the many holes peppering it's surface it had been used for the job for some time now.

It was the slight clicking of the tile beneath the trend of a foot that caused Giovanni to suddenly stiffen and turn with the second blade still in his hand ready to throw, but finding his son instead of some strange creature he smiled and lowered his weapon.

"Ezio."

With greeting offered the blade was given a relaxed almost gentile toss at the target, where it stuck firmly next to the first.

"Doing a bit of wandering?"

[assassino]

It's all too easy to pretend he's seventeen again, hopping down off the rampart to his father's level as if he hadn't been getting up to some serious shenanigans.

"Just a little," he says, flippant. Wandering, as if there was something new or compelling about the same roof he'd been living under for two and a half years, as if one could really wander in a place so familiar. Ezio shrugs it off like nothing, and then fixes his gaze on the target.

Target practice. That's something he hasn't done in a long time.

"And you're out here throwing knives, even when you already have perfect aim? You're making me look terrible."

It's teasing, but only half-hearted.

[deadlybanker]

They had been several years apart but the instincts of a father never faded. The weariness around his son's eyes, the way there had not been a spring in his step when he landed on the lower portion of roofing or a true hint of mirth in the teasing comment... Ezio was upset. He didn't need to ask why. So many had left the caste lately, good people that he had liked but whom Ezio had been truly close to. It must have been a great loss to him.

Instead of speaking on this Giovanni retrieved the throwing knives from their target and held them blunt side to Ezio, feigning a smile with not quite as much difficulty as his son.

"Perhaps you should be the one practicing with them then?"

If Ezio wished to speak about it what better time than with a little father/son knife throwing exercise?

[assassino]

Ezio doesn't hesitate to take them, though once he has them in his fingers, he takes his sweet time to adjust them between his fingers. He turns his eyes to the target.

"Maybe I should be," he says, sizing up the target and then raising a hand to aim, but he lowers it again to reconsider. "You know, I traded these for a crossbow the moment it became easier to come by bolts than blades."

He snorts, almost ruefully.

"It's heavier, though."

[deadlybanker]

"And more difficult to conceal I would think. But more powerful and able to attack from a greater distance. I can see how at times it would prove the better choice."

He spoke as he moved behind Ezio giving him more room to throw should it prove needed. He doubted his son would have a wild aim but if he were as out of practice as he claimed it could never hurt to take precaution. Assuming of course these blades might be launched...

"Do you intend to throw or just caress the blades?"

[samson]

Ezio's probably used to seeing guys standing up on roofs with crossbows, which is what Brock is doing right now, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Brock, on the other hand, is not super used to seeing guys running across roofs for no reason, and he brings the weapon up in a smooth, quick movement, firing a warning bolt a few yards ahead of him.

[assassino]

To his credit, Ezio notices Brock long before he fires –– but that doesn't mean his reaction time isn't any less fallible. As the bolt whizzes in his direction, Ezio abruptly drops off the edge to dodge aside, though he catches himself on the ledge with ease and is right back up in a second.

"Hey! Stronzo!" Ezio even shakes a fist at Brock, because he's that Italian. "Watch where you're aiming!"

[samson]

Oh. For a second there, Brock thought this guy just jumped off the roof to his death -- which wouldn't be the first time somebody did that to avoid confrontation with him, but he was expecting a little bit more of a challenge.

But then he pulls himself up and Brock moves to reload the crossbow, but then it's Ezio. Who else yells in Italian around here?

"Oh, it's you," he says, then leans on the parapet and calls across. "What the hell are you doing?"

[assassino]

"Fucking running! What did it look like?"

Ezio brushes himself off, as if doing some sort of drop-catch manoever rendered one unclean, and then heads towards Brock.

"What are you doing with a damn crossbow?"

[samson]

Brock straightens up as Ezio comes closer, leaning the crossbow back against his shoulder. "I'm playing watchdog. I don't buy for a second that the First Gens or whatever are totally out of the picture."

Fashionably late? Hopefully not too late.

[givetheslip]

Maria is no Assassin, but it seems the time she spent with one had a lasting effect, despite the months that have passed between then and now. (Then again, there are more Assassins here, so perhaps the effect is compounded despite the lack of close quarters.) In any case, when she's in the mood for solitude or simply wants to think quietly in a place that isn't her room, she finds herself on the roof occasionally.

Company is uncommon but not unheard of here, so she isn't startled when she hears the sound of footsteps. Turning to see who's approaching, she raises her eyebrows when she sees it's Ezio. There's someone she hasn't spoken to in a while.

"Good afternoon," she says. "Please tell me you're not up here to do one of your ridiculous leaps."

s'all good B)

[assassino]

Maria. Ezio smiles out of habit, even as he wonders if she's settled in at all since arriving. She's so broody for a woman, and Ezio's never known a woman quite like that.

"You know, most men would hesitate to take a woman as critical as you as a wife," he says. It's meant to be teasing, a little ha-ha at the idea that neither of them would know something so obvious, but even as it leaves his mouth, he knows he's saying something stupid.

"I'll have you know it takes a lot of precision and grace to do such a thing. A single mistake and you would be dead."

[givetheslip]

The remark does not impress her, as is made immediately obvious by the way her mouth falls into a straight line, but she's at least more relaxed now than the first time they spoke, and less inclined to punch him.

"It's a good thing I'm not worried about becoming one again," she says brusquely, though there's no real steel in her tone. "You, on the other hand, must worry every time you jump. You won't be hiding in plain sight if you splash yourself over the landscape."

[assassino]

Ezio looks at her with that same smile almost frozen on his face, because Ezio being Ezio, he's a little bit more fixated on the way her mouth moves, the line of her jaw. He's thinking about what Molotov told him about James, and he's sure he'd notice if Maria ever tried to disguise herself as a man.

Of course he would, he tells himself.

"That's a pity," he says. "But you know, I don't. It is effortless, after all these years."

Sort of.

[givetheslip]

There's half a moment when something about his expression strikes her as odd—though why that is, she couldn't say—but Maria dismisses it. It's not as if she knows him all that well, after all.

"If it were effortless, more people would do it," she pointed out. "But the only ones I've known to go leaping off tall places are Assassins and little birds."