The Mask Slips
Aug. 20th, 2023 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerhere we go
Main Points:
Assassin's Creed AU (kinda time-travel)
Chapter Summary: Giovanni has a conversation with Ezio.
Word Count: 1457
Rating: Teen
Federico, Desmond, Leonardo, and Claudia are the topic of conversation this time, but do not appear.
Arden decided abruptly that they had no more time, since they had yet to procure the poison, and had gone to Leonardo, although achieving results there had been difficult as well. Leonardo is being cagey, delaying in a similar way he had with the Borgia, probably due to his dislike of violence, and had many questions about how it was intended to be used they can’t fully answer. Arden says that he suspects Leonardo noticed the familial resemblance, even with a hood, but it’s not as if Ezio can accompany him to give him some legitimacy, considering the entire plan involves not being able to be traced to the Auditore.
At least getting their hands on a Pazzi household dagger had been easy enough, so if they must spill blood rather than poison wine, an investigation should further point to the Pazzi. As a backup plan, particularly if he still can use Duccio as the alibi for any wayward blood stains. This time, he might even let Claudia watch. He certainly shouldn’t feed the bloodthirsty beast within her, but even when she does nothing but wish for a man’s misfortune, she can keep her head about her in a way that does her credit.
She is, however, taking the supervision about as well as he had. She has taken to increasingly painful poetry in her letters to Duccio, and actually insisted Federico deliver a few, if only for the skills of the fastest feet in Firenze to get the words to him that much faster. She reports that Federico is highly suspicious, but the flattery does make him go and give her a few moments of peace...from her brother, anyway. Her friends are still fawning over him, a situation which no doubt grates. Ezio is uncertain if she is attempting to take revenge in her own way on Duccio by driving him mad or attempting to provoke him into something ill-advised. Possibly also Federico, if he opens them and reads the contents.
Actually...he probably has to do so, just to be thorough as an Assassin. Father, Federico, and possibly Mother suspect some kind of conspiracy, and are not wholly wrong on that account, though it’s entirely possible the preoccupation with what they are doing might distract them from the true enemy—but, of course, Ezio and Claudia and Arden intend to settle this, and pay back every year of grief in pain, so it’s hardly as if it matters. If Federico is likewise affected from his snooping, on his own head be it. Either way, it is genius and he refuses to get involved, if only for his own sanity.
So when he is called into Father’s office, having just returned from retrieving a few feathers for Petruccio in order to claw through the tension haunting him, he has mere moments to prepare, to realize that no matter how casual his mother’s voice there’s a caution in her eyes, and he is alone. His fellow conspirators are elsewhere, and they cannot help—but stalling would not be permitted, and under no circumstances must he give away the truth.
Over the years he has been tortured. None of them could hold a candle to Giovanni Auditore, clearly favoring his side as he sits and looks up, gentle yet stern. He had been wounded, sì?
“Sit down, Ezio,” he suggests. It is kinder than a command, though has the same effect, and he does, slowly, cautiously.
Some worry is natural, given the situation, surely? A boy, afraid of getting in trouble, and even were he not involved in a plot, he would have noticed this has all the traces of a lecture.
A preemptive protest of his innocence, then? “I have done nothing—lately.”
Giovanni raises an eyebrow. “I am not a fool, and I cannot ignore what I see any longer. Picking fights with the Pazzi is not wise. They are baying for blood, and no matter how infuriating Vieri is, fighting like this only increases the unrest in the city.”
“Perhaps he should have considered that before he started those fights, then,” he responds, surly, drawing more on the younger recruits than memories of his own childhood. “Or perhaps he should not have a face quite so much in need of a good punch.”
“Words are not fists, son, and you need not endure such for long. Justice will be served, and then we need not worry as much.” True, but not in the way padre thinks.
Giovanni pauses, then sighs as Ezio simply fidgets in the seat. He feels naked without a hidden blade, but it’s probably good he does not have one, or more than once lately he’d simply have activated it in his restlessness.
“And I have heard nothing from the Vespucci, no complaints about a son of mine who cannot stay away,” he continues, and Ezio…
That hadn’t even occurred to him, preoccupied as he’d been. Poor Cristina. He should visit, if only to say something, to apologize for his lack of attention. “That is...good, is it not? Not having to deal with an angry father’s insults?” he asks, uncertainly, and that sharp look in Father’s eyes…
He’d barely thought of his father as an Assassin. He’d mused, idly, but it was too painful to consider for long. He was a father in Ezio’s eyes, in his memories, and while the knowledge had changed some things, made others make sense, he hadn’t had to actually deal with it.
Now, he does. Assassins are particularly skilled in seeking the truth, he knows. “Really, Ezio? Or is it simply that those you consort with now are unlikely to complain about their daughter’s virtù?”
Ah. Arden had been correct about that guess, then. Ezio swallows, and hopes the pain of knowing that along the way he’d had family and hadn’t bothered to inquire further, too preoccupied with revenge to pay attention to his own present or future, is enough to convince Father to look no further—though the flaw in their plan immediately presents itself to Ezio, once he considers it, and is surprised their cugino hadn’t considered it. Suggestion is not the same as proof, and if he is required to actually produce this possible son or daughter or pregnant woman, how will they manage it? He might be able to locate one with Eagle Vision, if necessary, but even then, the time spent supposedly “providing” for one would not match, and surely Father would notice such details—
But no, Giovanni’s eyes are still as sharp as an eagle’s, and he’s still determined, so he hadn’t been convincing enough in his silence. Should he have protested that, too—yes, possibly, possibly that’s the only thing that could have served as an indication he had found the truth and stop looking, but it’s too late now, surely? A belated protest would be even more suspicious, would it not?
“Son,” Father states kindly, coming around his desk to gently put a hand on Ezio’s shoulder, “...did you find the secret room?”
Ezio’s eyes widen—he cannot forget a single detail of that night, no matter how much time has passed, and knows that his inability to conceal a reaction is enough to give him away—although for what, he is not certain.
Father’s eyes soften, and he sighs, but when he looks back up there’s a smile on his face, a smile that makes Ezio’s breath catch in his throat, because in all this plotting trying to save his family, it had not fully registered that his family is here, alive, before him once more. “I had hoped to have more time, but I will hardly let your questions eat you alive, figlio mio. You will have the answers you seek, Ezio.”
Porca miseria! What...what is Ezio supposed to do with this? He had said that he would cry after, after his family were safe, allow himself the tears of joy and mourning, but he feels overwhelmed and unable to do more than stare at his father and attempt not to cry.
Main Points:
Assassin's Creed AU (kinda time-travel)
Chapter Summary: Giovanni has a conversation with Ezio.
Word Count: 1457
Rating: Teen
Federico, Desmond, Leonardo, and Claudia are the topic of conversation this time, but do not appear.
They have, Ezio realizes abruptly, been vastly underestimating Giovanni Auditore. Of course, part of that is not his fault. It is not as if he has had the chance to see his father’s skills in action, as an Assassin. But the unassuming, guileless way they seek information, the absolute swiftness of action, once they deem it time to act...he really should have been prepared for this, and he is not. And he is a Master Assassin! He should have known the previous actions were merely a prelude to actual action. Likewise, he should have guessed that Father would wish to complete any lingering business in Firenze once he returned, for he would do the same.
Arden decided abruptly that they had no more time, since they had yet to procure the poison, and had gone to Leonardo, although achieving results there had been difficult as well. Leonardo is being cagey, delaying in a similar way he had with the Borgia, probably due to his dislike of violence, and had many questions about how it was intended to be used they can’t fully answer. Arden says that he suspects Leonardo noticed the familial resemblance, even with a hood, but it’s not as if Ezio can accompany him to give him some legitimacy, considering the entire plan involves not being able to be traced to the Auditore.
At least getting their hands on a Pazzi household dagger had been easy enough, so if they must spill blood rather than poison wine, an investigation should further point to the Pazzi. As a backup plan, particularly if he still can use Duccio as the alibi for any wayward blood stains. This time, he might even let Claudia watch. He certainly shouldn’t feed the bloodthirsty beast within her, but even when she does nothing but wish for a man’s misfortune, she can keep her head about her in a way that does her credit.
She is, however, taking the supervision about as well as he had. She has taken to increasingly painful poetry in her letters to Duccio, and actually insisted Federico deliver a few, if only for the skills of the fastest feet in Firenze to get the words to him that much faster. She reports that Federico is highly suspicious, but the flattery does make him go and give her a few moments of peace...from her brother, anyway. Her friends are still fawning over him, a situation which no doubt grates. Ezio is uncertain if she is attempting to take revenge in her own way on Duccio by driving him mad or attempting to provoke him into something ill-advised. Possibly also Federico, if he opens them and reads the contents.
Actually...he probably has to do so, just to be thorough as an Assassin. Father, Federico, and possibly Mother suspect some kind of conspiracy, and are not wholly wrong on that account, though it’s entirely possible the preoccupation with what they are doing might distract them from the true enemy—but, of course, Ezio and Claudia and Arden intend to settle this, and pay back every year of grief in pain, so it’s hardly as if it matters. If Federico is likewise affected from his snooping, on his own head be it. Either way, it is genius and he refuses to get involved, if only for his own sanity.
So when he is called into Father’s office, having just returned from retrieving a few feathers for Petruccio in order to claw through the tension haunting him, he has mere moments to prepare, to realize that no matter how casual his mother’s voice there’s a caution in her eyes, and he is alone. His fellow conspirators are elsewhere, and they cannot help—but stalling would not be permitted, and under no circumstances must he give away the truth.
Over the years he has been tortured. None of them could hold a candle to Giovanni Auditore, clearly favoring his side as he sits and looks up, gentle yet stern. He had been wounded, sì?
“Sit down, Ezio,” he suggests. It is kinder than a command, though has the same effect, and he does, slowly, cautiously.
Some worry is natural, given the situation, surely? A boy, afraid of getting in trouble, and even were he not involved in a plot, he would have noticed this has all the traces of a lecture.
A preemptive protest of his innocence, then? “I have done nothing—lately.”
Giovanni raises an eyebrow. “I am not a fool, and I cannot ignore what I see any longer. Picking fights with the Pazzi is not wise. They are baying for blood, and no matter how infuriating Vieri is, fighting like this only increases the unrest in the city.”
“Perhaps he should have considered that before he started those fights, then,” he responds, surly, drawing more on the younger recruits than memories of his own childhood. “Or perhaps he should not have a face quite so much in need of a good punch.”
“Words are not fists, son, and you need not endure such for long. Justice will be served, and then we need not worry as much.” True, but not in the way padre thinks.
Giovanni pauses, then sighs as Ezio simply fidgets in the seat. He feels naked without a hidden blade, but it’s probably good he does not have one, or more than once lately he’d simply have activated it in his restlessness.
“And I have heard nothing from the Vespucci, no complaints about a son of mine who cannot stay away,” he continues, and Ezio…
That hadn’t even occurred to him, preoccupied as he’d been. Poor Cristina. He should visit, if only to say something, to apologize for his lack of attention. “That is...good, is it not? Not having to deal with an angry father’s insults?” he asks, uncertainly, and that sharp look in Father’s eyes…
He’d barely thought of his father as an Assassin. He’d mused, idly, but it was too painful to consider for long. He was a father in Ezio’s eyes, in his memories, and while the knowledge had changed some things, made others make sense, he hadn’t had to actually deal with it.
Now, he does. Assassins are particularly skilled in seeking the truth, he knows. “Really, Ezio? Or is it simply that those you consort with now are unlikely to complain about their daughter’s virtù?”
Ah. Arden had been correct about that guess, then. Ezio swallows, and hopes the pain of knowing that along the way he’d had family and hadn’t bothered to inquire further, too preoccupied with revenge to pay attention to his own present or future, is enough to convince Father to look no further—though the flaw in their plan immediately presents itself to Ezio, once he considers it, and is surprised their cugino hadn’t considered it. Suggestion is not the same as proof, and if he is required to actually produce this possible son or daughter or pregnant woman, how will they manage it? He might be able to locate one with Eagle Vision, if necessary, but even then, the time spent supposedly “providing” for one would not match, and surely Father would notice such details—
But no, Giovanni’s eyes are still as sharp as an eagle’s, and he’s still determined, so he hadn’t been convincing enough in his silence. Should he have protested that, too—yes, possibly, possibly that’s the only thing that could have served as an indication he had found the truth and stop looking, but it’s too late now, surely? A belated protest would be even more suspicious, would it not?
“Son,” Father states kindly, coming around his desk to gently put a hand on Ezio’s shoulder, “...did you find the secret room?”
Ezio’s eyes widen—he cannot forget a single detail of that night, no matter how much time has passed, and knows that his inability to conceal a reaction is enough to give him away—although for what, he is not certain.
Father’s eyes soften, and he sighs, but when he looks back up there’s a smile on his face, a smile that makes Ezio’s breath catch in his throat, because in all this plotting trying to save his family, it had not fully registered that his family is here, alive, before him once more. “I had hoped to have more time, but I will hardly let your questions eat you alive, figlio mio. You will have the answers you seek, Ezio.”
Porca miseria! What...what is Ezio supposed to do with this? He had said that he would cry after, after his family were safe, allow himself the tears of joy and mourning, but he feels overwhelmed and unable to do more than stare at his father and attempt not to cry.
