madimpossibledreamer: Tatsuya holding a motorcycle helmet under his arm and looking at a swingset (bi king)
[personal profile] madimpossibledreamer
I'll note that Desmond is not wearing blue.
It's all Italian I actually know.

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed AU (kinda time-travel)
Chapter Summary:
Claudia accidentally finds more help.
Word Count: 710
Rating: Teen

         Claudia is again standing at the market when she sees a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye, ducking behind a building, and mentally sighs. That’s as good as an invitation to follow, and as much as she hates being interrupted, the matter cannot simply be postponed. Conspiracy ranks above a new dress, no matter how fetching. She detaches herself from the transaction gracefully and follows as instructed, though can feel her patience growing shorter and shorter as he simply does not stop. True, these are hardly subjects to be spoken about in public, but they have already gone far beyond where any might overhear. If she did not know better, she would think he was attempting to escape her—and no matter how much she wishes otherwise, the ruins he can climb ahead of her are a location she cannot follow, not with what she is wearing, and likely not without practice. She plans to get that practice, of course, but time does not permit this at the moment.
         And then she catches the slightest glimpse of the face behind the hood, and is struck, for while this man may appear extraordinarily similar to her brother, it is not he—for one thing, he’s taller (how had she missed that?). So perhaps another aspect of Ezio’s dreams is not, in fact, mere fantasy.
         “Stop, cugino!” It’s entirely possible he is not, in fact, her cousin, but there is certainly some familial relation there that cannot be denied—look at that nose! “Do you, perhaps, live in a city with great towers of glass?”
         That, finally, gets him to pause, shocked still, and then he glances back down at her, eyes incredulous. “What the hell?” he asks—and, ah, yes, he even has a Florentine accent.
         She shrugs, trying not to feel too smug. “It is either that, or you are a bastard of Father’s, from before he was married to Mother, but I think it unlikely, given the dreams Ezio has had of you, unless your mother moved to a land far away.” But then, how does he have the local accent? Many mysteries, with this one.
         “What the hell?” he repeats, emphasis louder, but at least he makes his way back down the ruined wall to join her. “Ezio...knows me?”
         She shrugs. It’s not a lot. But the mere fact that he is known at all might prove enough bait—and why should it not? Most men would not know another without rumor or having met. “I’m not sure how much he knows—but it seems my brother seeks, willingly or unwillingly, to become a prophet.”
         This relative reacts in the same way Ezio does, stilling, eyes narrowed. That had been more of a joke than anything, but apparently it means something to him.
         “Do you know of the Pazzi conspiracy, Messere…?”
         The pause is slight. “Arden.” At her raised eyebrow, he adds, “No, that’s not my name, but it’s...one I used for a while. Kinda nostalgic. And I’m...kind of scared me being here is going to break something, to be honest. I have no idea what I’m doing.” He didn’t answer her question, she notices quite clearly, and crosses her arms, and he...flinches away from her. Just a little bit.
         She can’t wait to interrogate people, if she’s already this good at it.
         “And yeah, I know about that. I’ve had nightmares about it, too.” He glances at his hands and sighs, a sigh like Ezio’s, like the weight of the world is upon their shoulders, then looks up, the same determination in his eyes as she sees in Ezio’s, that no doubt is mirrored in her own. “Al diavolo! Everything seems stable, never mind that none of this is how I remember, and I’m sick and tired of being told what I can’t do. How can I help?”
         “Va bene. Can you wait around here, cugino Arden? I think it is time you and Ezio spoke.” He moves like Ezio—surely he can move around undetected for long enough.
         Cugino Arden nods decisively. “I guess so.” He sounds unsure, but—well, if he leaves, it will be easy enough for Ezio to track him, and the more that join their number, the better.

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