Moments: Oddities

Lines

Altaïr stared down at the sketch placed before him.

Surely this was a joke. There was no way someone - the person who did this - was serious while making this. He was tempted to turn to Ezio and ask if he knew of anyone who would draw such things. Though said Italian seemed quite distracted earlier.

After handing him this, this...thing. Warmth slightly colored his cheeks once he figured out what the image was.

Again: surely this was a joke.

Perhaps he should go visit Leonardo. The man would know someone who drew like this - given he's locked in his workshop most of the time. Deciding to do so he rolled up the paper and tucked it securely near his heart, inside the button-up shirt he wore - since being in this time and wearing his usual attire would attract undesired attention.

Once he reached the young artist's home the Arabian knocked softly, raking his knuckles against the wood. Moments later the blond opened it.

"Ciao, Altaïr!" he greeted, spreading his arms wide and enveloping the foreign man in a hug that was reluctantly returned after a pause. "What can I do for you?"

Reaching into his shirt the tanned Ibn La-Ahad pulled out the rolled up paper, unrolling it to reveal its contents to Ezio's friend.

Round blue spheres peered at it with extreme intrigue, only to then burst out in laughter. Lips parted, shoulders rocking before lifting his hand to cover his mouth.

Altaïr rose a brow, confused by this reaction.

"Dio mio, he actually did it!" the blond bellowed, holding his sides. "Non posso credere che lo ha fatto."

"Who?" the Arabian growled, muscles tensing. "Who are you talking about? Answer me."

Leonardo paused, glancing up from the sketch with a perplexed, contemplating, expression. As if he should truthfully answer the Assassin.

"Leonardo..." the grey-bluish eyed man grumbled, bringing the sketch back to his side. "Do you know -"

"Leo! I cannot find Altaïr! Merda, I think the picture I drew upset him..." a familiar, smooth, voice called, Altaïr turning to see Ezio standing there. The Italian's hood being pushed halfway off, ceasing in movement once the brunet noticed the person he'd been looking for. "...merda..."

"You drew this?!" Moving over he held the picture in front of his descendant's face. The image of them sitting on a rooftop, leaning against one another and kissing. "You?!"

It was then that he had to chase a fleeing Ezio.

RIP

The young man crouched down, holding onto the head of his latest target, slowly lowering the corpse to the ground. Closing his eyes halfway while breathing out slowly. This man had accepted death, although a bit panicked as he found out that he was bleeding profusely.

"Requiescat in pace."

"He took his death quite well."

Veering over his shoulder the Italian rose a brow then pressed his bloodied hand against the ground to push and stand. "Well, signore, unlike you I am much kinder and appear less intimidating."

"And I do not pay women to flaunt about me."

"Altaïr...shut up...just shut up." He then turned sharply on his heel and disposed of yet another guard easily.

Rain

Attentive eyes stared out the window from the seat far from it. He didn't want to be anywhere near the clear glass. There was just something about the crystal clear fluid that caused him to jump away and back into the shelter.

There had been no need to learn to tolerate large quantities of water. Back in his hometown, even in Acre, there was water. Though not in too big a level as Acre possessed. Even if in this time there was more of a chance that while being chased by guards and leaping to another rooftop that one would fall and drown a moment later.

Letting himself fall back more into the chair, listening to the droplets that pelted the window.

Shifting to stand he slowly made his way to said glass. Watching the rain fall down into the center of the building he'd confined himself in. Placing his hands against the cold surface the man pressed his forehead to it.

Warmth covered his bare hands, thought it was also cold.

Snapping his eyes open he veered over his shoulder, eyes flashing from shock. Chocolate spheres were staring back at him.

"Buon pomeriggio, l'amore."

"...good afternoon, Ezio." was his response, tone flat and unpleased as the soaked body pressed closer to his own. Which ended up getting him wet in the process. "Get off."

"Aye, Altaïr, your words are like knives," the Italian chuckled, placing his chin on the man's shoulder. "You wound me so."

Ezio curled his fingers, capturing the Arabian's hands. Holding him captive and pressed to the window, both peering out towards the rain that was pelting the window relentlessly.

"...welcome back."

"Questo è esattamente quello che volevo sentire." came the younger Assassin's reply, turning his head and pressing his lips to the other's cheek.