Ezio Auditore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
assemblatore) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-08-20 11:06 am
assemblatore) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-08-20 11:06 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] all i've ever wanted from life
WHO: Ezio Auditore and youuuu
WHERE: around town idk
WHEN: Today
WHAT: Old dude farting around
WARNINGS: nahhh
Ezio had tolerated his arrival better than he might have as a younger man –– at his age, it was easier to feign compliance to gain information than simply beating it out of people, and he had nodded his way past much of it with the understanding that he would be back later to set things right. He had a thousand questions, of course, many of which had no answers, but retaliation could wait. What better way to learn about them than in plain sight? He had to know his enemy before he could fight, and he understood in no uncertain terms that he was dealing with an enemy. After all, Ezio had never encountered a political or military enterprise that hadn't shown its true colours as a tyrant eventually, and no friend would strip a man of his new bride, his people and his hard-earned retirement without so much as asking. He would find his way back home even if it took dismantling them, no matter how tired he was of fighting.
Nothing could keep him away from his family, even if he had already found a small bit of family here.
But scarcely a week into his trip to another time, Ezio found himself with much more than the military to learn about. For a man with his experiences, new cities were nothing out of the ordinary. In a sense, even 2014 wasn't particularly new in the sense that he hadn't seen it before... no, Ezio Auditore had seen the future before, something few in his time could possibly claim. Still, to see visions of light could never compare to exploring the future in person, and Florida –– "florda", as the people said –– had all the sprawl of Rome but seemingly without the poverty, a land where even the poor had luxuries that people in his time could scarcely fathom. These Florida people did everything differently, from politics to governance to social comportment, and they did all of it at a scale that Ezio struggled to imagine: speaking about recent events in cities across the continent as if it were in their own backyard. As always, he considered himself fortunate to be the kind of man who could take those things in stride, someone who could marvel at new technologies and aesthetics without rushing back to esconcse himself in tradition.
But still, there were some things that could turn his head or put him at unease: the clothes were a touch careless, the food was plausibly fresh but laughable in its claims to authenticity, and people could identify him as Italian –– when they weren't taking him for a Spaniard, anyhow –– but could scarcely name a city in the Italian peninsula other than Rome and Venice. In a way, he felt older than ever considering these things, for as far as he could tell from the world beyond Florida, even his own people had changed immensely. Didn't he always feel old when youth around him could talk at length about things he had never heard of? Long ago, that would have only made him feel younger.
Even so, Ezio approached the people of Florida the same way he might approach any other people of any other city: by making friends. Years of turning heads had blessed him with a strange immunity to the way that people might glance at him twice, and so he had little difficulty focusing on immersing himself. He could strike up conversations in coffee shops, in the streets, anywhere –– everyone had something to say, and few doubted the questions of someone posing as a tourist. Could they even imagine he was from another century when he dressed like them, ate like them? Even to those obviously from another time as well, he kept up the pretense of being a tourist; he had to be careful, had to assume many of them would side with this military as impressionable people were wont to do.
Making friends, it seemed, would take time.
WHERE: around town idk
WHEN: Today
WHAT: Old dude farting around
WARNINGS: nahhh
Ezio had tolerated his arrival better than he might have as a younger man –– at his age, it was easier to feign compliance to gain information than simply beating it out of people, and he had nodded his way past much of it with the understanding that he would be back later to set things right. He had a thousand questions, of course, many of which had no answers, but retaliation could wait. What better way to learn about them than in plain sight? He had to know his enemy before he could fight, and he understood in no uncertain terms that he was dealing with an enemy. After all, Ezio had never encountered a political or military enterprise that hadn't shown its true colours as a tyrant eventually, and no friend would strip a man of his new bride, his people and his hard-earned retirement without so much as asking. He would find his way back home even if it took dismantling them, no matter how tired he was of fighting.
Nothing could keep him away from his family, even if he had already found a small bit of family here.
But scarcely a week into his trip to another time, Ezio found himself with much more than the military to learn about. For a man with his experiences, new cities were nothing out of the ordinary. In a sense, even 2014 wasn't particularly new in the sense that he hadn't seen it before... no, Ezio Auditore had seen the future before, something few in his time could possibly claim. Still, to see visions of light could never compare to exploring the future in person, and Florida –– "florda", as the people said –– had all the sprawl of Rome but seemingly without the poverty, a land where even the poor had luxuries that people in his time could scarcely fathom. These Florida people did everything differently, from politics to governance to social comportment, and they did all of it at a scale that Ezio struggled to imagine: speaking about recent events in cities across the continent as if it were in their own backyard. As always, he considered himself fortunate to be the kind of man who could take those things in stride, someone who could marvel at new technologies and aesthetics without rushing back to esconcse himself in tradition.
But still, there were some things that could turn his head or put him at unease: the clothes were a touch careless, the food was plausibly fresh but laughable in its claims to authenticity, and people could identify him as Italian –– when they weren't taking him for a Spaniard, anyhow –– but could scarcely name a city in the Italian peninsula other than Rome and Venice. In a way, he felt older than ever considering these things, for as far as he could tell from the world beyond Florida, even his own people had changed immensely. Didn't he always feel old when youth around him could talk at length about things he had never heard of? Long ago, that would have only made him feel younger.
Even so, Ezio approached the people of Florida the same way he might approach any other people of any other city: by making friends. Years of turning heads had blessed him with a strange immunity to the way that people might glance at him twice, and so he had little difficulty focusing on immersing himself. He could strike up conversations in coffee shops, in the streets, anywhere –– everyone had something to say, and few doubted the questions of someone posing as a tourist. Could they even imagine he was from another century when he dressed like them, ate like them? Even to those obviously from another time as well, he kept up the pretense of being a tourist; he had to be careful, had to assume many of them would side with this military as impressionable people were wont to do.
Making friends, it seemed, would take time.
no subject
He helped Ezio on some things. The words for certain items, how your standard Americans greeted each other and the proper kind of small talk. Some things you just couldn't say anymore without people looking at you funny. Any social faux pas were easily covered up with a quick "he's my Italian uncle, don't mind him," and that usually smoothed things over just fine. Hell, people took well to that sort of thing. The hardest part had been finding Ezio lighter clothes that would allow him to blend in. Better than his ancestor collapsing of heat stroke in the humid Florida sun. It was still strange to see Ezio in anything other than his Assassin robes. But at least he didn't look ridiculous.
Desmond offered over a tall cup of iced tea to Ezio. He'd just ducked into a corner store for a minute to get them both something. His own drink was tucked into his elbow. "Here, drink this. Out here you need to watch how hot you get in the sun. You can easily end up sick from it."
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Still, he's been very fortunate to have an American native show him about and see that he does not get struck by a vehicle, and so Ezio has tried to keep his complaints to a minimum. Desmond cannot control the weather, after all.
"Thank you," he says, accepting the drink. He is momentarily distracted by the cup itself before he drinks, to feel the way it can bend under the pressure of his fingers but bounce right back. It feels waxy but looks like paper. He has no idea what it is, but it's novel. The drink isn't bad, either –– an overly sweet cold tea, or something that is trying to be tea, as it tastes only vaguely reminiscent of the tea he'd purchased occasionally from Chinese merchants in Constantinople.
"What is this?"
He means the cup.
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He shrugged. "I don't know that much about the details. Just that it's made with oil, and it's everywhere because it's so versatile and lightweight. You can check the library if you're still curious about it."
He couldn't help grinning at Ezio. "Good thing Leonardo's not here, huh. He'd probably have a meltdown from being so excited."
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"Thinner than this?" Ezio wonders aloud, but he supposes everything is going to be surprising, so he might as well accept it at face value. Instead, he just smiles at mention of Leonardo, and speaks fondly.
"Leonardo would enjoy this, yes. There would be so much to be distracted by he would be even more unreliable, however."
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Desmond shrugged. "Or he might end up with a bit of an ego trip, considering. He's become famous in this time. Everyone knows his name, everyone recognizes how much of a genius he was. ...and what his apprentices liked to doodle in his notebooks."
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"Salai would have been responsible for most, I think, but I'm sure one or two of my little vandalisms have survived as well," Ezio remarks. "But I imagine he would be very humbled to know what has become of his name and reputation."
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"I don't want to know what else you hid in there. But yeah. Considering the guy figured out how our bodies work long before doctors even did, he's kind of a big deal."
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As for Leonardo's ideas of the body, Ezio just shrugs. As true as the comment about doctors is, Ezio is not overly interested in the wonders of anatomy, considering how much of his life has been spent spilling blood and organs. He's spilled everything a man can offer, he imagines, and slept with enough women to have a good idea. As far as he's concerned, he's plenty familiar.
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He finished his drink and tossed the cup into a trash can. "Anyway, what do you want to see next? We've got a whole city to explore. Kind of wish I could climb right now. It's one thing watching you do it...I never thought we'd have the chance to run together."
i've been rp awol apparently
"You'll get used to that feeling, in a way," he says, and he ponders it a moment. "Many times you think you're dead, think you should have died."
Truly dead men don't walk, as far as Ezio's concerned.
"Run together?" He makes an amused noise. "I could do with stretching my legs, even if I have to wait until you recover."
lol
And then the downward spiral of madness starting when Ezio was seventeen. Jesus.
He gestured toward the crosswalk. "Let's stay on the ground for now. You interested in seeing a movie? That's...kind of like moving pictures, that tell a story."
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She was trying. Had been for days now, ever since she'd accepted that her situation was neither a bout of madness nor likely to end in the immediate future. If those she was forced to work with couldn't see that, well, she'd like to see them yanked centuries into the future and see how fast they adjusted.
But the order/suggestion was still a sound one, despite her irritation with the manner of its delivery, so Maria gathered what coin she had and set out. Everything was different here—the clothing, the language, the way people interacted. The food and drink, too, but it was an easy place to start, so Maria wandered into a small shop and requested a beverage at random. (At least menus had already been explained to her.)
The pineapple-mango-something-or-other 'smoothie' she came away with was so bizarre-looking that she began to second-guess her assessment of it as a starting point. It was unnaturally bright and came in what looked like the thinnest, clearest glass but clearly was not. How was such a thing created?
So distracted by the odd drink was she that she bumped right into a fellow on the sidewalk outside the shop. "Oh—I beg your pardon," she said, expression shifting from bafflement to apology. "I didn't look where I was going."
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"That's quite alright, signora," he replies, and then adds, amused: "I think anyone enraptured by a drink would do the same."
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"I don't know that enraptured is the right word," she said, giving him a wry smile. "Befuddled, perhaps. It's so bright I'm not sure I trust the thing enough to drink it."
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"Well, it is not uncommon to encounter new things in a new land, no? I'm sure it is safe."
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Not that she liked admitting that, but at this point she'd be making a fool of herself to pretend otherwise.
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"Have you never tasted mango before? It's strange at first, but it is very good. I came across them from Persian merchants peddling them in Constantinople."
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She's still suspicious, but the money is already spent and the man's reassurance helps. "Is that where you're from, Constantinople?" she asks, lifting the drink to sniff at it before taking a cautious sip. "I can't quite place your accent..."
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"Nottinghamshire, England," she says. "Originally. But it's been some time since I saw the place where I was born; of late, I lived in the Holy Land."
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(If only he knew.)
"The pursuit of knowledge. Duty, too I imagine."
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Before continuing, she takes another tentative sip and wrinkles her nose. It's nice enough, but rather tart.
"Do you think you'll have the opportunity to pursue them here as well? I imagine this land is farther from home than even the most stalwart traveler would mean to go."