[When the train pulls up this evening, it's a rather confused man who steps off it, turning on his heel the moment his foot hits the platform and taking a few paces back. He stares at the train with his mouth slightly agape, one hand on top of the beret he wore as if he fears it might fly off. He'd fallen asleep in a carriage on the way to Monteriggioni, only to wake up inside this.. thing.
It only takes him a moment to get over his shock, then he places the tips of his fingers to the side of the train, feeling the warmth of it, the strange material it was constructed from]
Fascinating.. Absolutely fascinating..
[The words come out in a whisper, and he lies his hand flat, only to jerk it back when the vehicle begins to move away. He watches, seeming somewhat dumbstruck, until it disappears into the fog, then he swallows and glances around as if only then realising that he is somewhere entirely unfamiliar]
Oh, Dio.. this is troubling..
[His arm knocks over a small pouch tied at his hip, and he frowns down at it, tugging it free and tipping a.. contraption out into his hand. What an intriguing little thing! Leonardo takes a seat on one of the station benches, turning it over in his hands. It's nothing like the Apple - it's not like anything he's ever seen before, and all the more interesting for it.
He doesn't realise he's turned it on and is broadcasting a view of his shoes to the city as he murmurs to himself in curious, quiet, but undeniably excited Italian]
Third Person:
Leonardo leaned out of one of the upper windows of his studio and watched a group of guards running by on the street below. Such things were so common now, he thought with a quiet hum, ever since the execution of Giovanni Auditore and two of his sons. The constant sense of high alert permeated the very soul of the city and made it tense, restive. It was not the city he had fell in love with and yet it was still, in mourning the loss of one of its central figures. Leonardo was not the only one who knew with no amount of uncertainty that Giovanni's execution had been the result of a conspiracy orchestrated by the Pazzi family and Uberto Alberti. He had kept his silence, though, despite repeated searches of his home and rough questioning from the guards. He would not betray his friend.
It could only be assumed that Ezio was once again stalking the streets of Firenze as a cry of 'assassino!' went up in the distance. He rested his elbow on the window sill, propping his chin on his hand and tapping his fingertips lightly against his cheek, remaining there only a moment before he stepped back and closed the shutters, then pressed two fingers to his lips. The small hairs on the back of his neck rose and prickled. An omen, usually, of something to come. He had learned to expect it.
"Mm," he uttered, blue eyes slanting towards the balcony overlooking the lower floor as he heard a door quietly open and close, and footsteps moving softly across dusty wood.
"I am not taking any more commissions at the moment!" Leonardo called, though he received no response and a smile pulled at his lips. He shook his head, striding towards the stairs. It couldn't possibly be anyone else, and the well-known sound of a sword being dropped to a table, followed by a weary sigh only confirmed it.
"You might have warned me of your arrival.. I could have been in the middle of something."
[Canon] Leonardo da Vinci || Assassin's Creed || Reserved || 3 of 3
[When the train pulls up this evening, it's a rather confused man who steps off it, turning on his heel the moment his foot hits the platform and taking a few paces back. He stares at the train with his mouth slightly agape, one hand on top of the beret he wore as if he fears it might fly off. He'd fallen asleep in a carriage on the way to Monteriggioni, only to wake up inside this.. thing.
It only takes him a moment to get over his shock, then he places the tips of his fingers to the side of the train, feeling the warmth of it, the strange material it was constructed from]
Fascinating.. Absolutely fascinating..
[The words come out in a whisper, and he lies his hand flat, only to jerk it back when the vehicle begins to move away. He watches, seeming somewhat dumbstruck, until it disappears into the fog, then he swallows and glances around as if only then realising that he is somewhere entirely unfamiliar]
Oh, Dio.. this is troubling..
[His arm knocks over a small pouch tied at his hip, and he frowns down at it, tugging it free and tipping a.. contraption out into his hand. What an intriguing little thing! Leonardo takes a seat on one of the station benches, turning it over in his hands. It's nothing like the Apple - it's not like anything he's ever seen before, and all the more interesting for it.
He doesn't realise he's turned it on and is broadcasting a view of his shoes to the city as he murmurs to himself in curious, quiet, but undeniably excited Italian]
Third Person:
Leonardo leaned out of one of the upper windows of his studio and watched a group of guards running by on the street below. Such things were so common now, he thought with a quiet hum, ever since the execution of Giovanni Auditore and two of his sons. The constant sense of high alert permeated the very soul of the city and made it tense, restive. It was not the city he had fell in love with and yet it was still, in mourning the loss of one of its central figures. Leonardo was not the only one who knew with no amount of uncertainty that Giovanni's execution had been the result of a conspiracy orchestrated by the Pazzi family and Uberto Alberti. He had kept his silence, though, despite repeated searches of his home and rough questioning from the guards. He would not betray his friend.
It could only be assumed that Ezio was once again stalking the streets of Firenze as a cry of 'assassino!' went up in the distance. He rested his elbow on the window sill, propping his chin on his hand and tapping his fingertips lightly against his cheek, remaining there only a moment before he stepped back and closed the shutters, then pressed two fingers to his lips. The small hairs on the back of his neck rose and prickled. An omen, usually, of something to come. He had learned to expect it.
"Mm," he uttered, blue eyes slanting towards the balcony overlooking the lower floor as he heard a door quietly open and close, and footsteps moving softly across dusty wood.
"I am not taking any more commissions at the moment!" Leonardo called, though he received no response and a smile pulled at his lips. He shook his head, striding towards the stairs. It couldn't possibly be anyone else, and the well-known sound of a sword being dropped to a table, followed by a weary sigh only confirmed it.
"You might have warned me of your arrival.. I could have been in the middle of something."