You Should Have Known Better

[justblendin]

WHO: Ezio Auditore
WHERE: Fountain, Around Lucy's House, The Inn & South Village
WHEN: Week of Jan. 18th - 25th
OPEN TO: Arrival Closed To Lucy; all other prompts are OTA!
WARNINGS: Descriptions Of Near Drowning - Will Update If Needed!

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Arrival; Locked To Lucy

It was wonderous and terrifying just how quickly your life could change in an instant. In a single blink of an eye everything you thought you knew could be completely shattered and pieced back together.

Yet Ezio had felt absolutely no fear as he had lept from the tower, following his fellow assassins down, down, down in the final part of the initiation ritual he had just partaken in, after being trained and groomed for years to take his place in this secret society. How he had never suspected, had never known, had never realized that all this time, this was what his father had been doing. What his uncle had been preparing him for.

There should be an end to the falling, a pile of soft hay to break his landing, leaving him to pop out and continue on with his work. But there isn't. There is no end, only sinking, deeper and deeper, like a stone in a lake with no bottom as an inky blackness encloses around him.

When he wakes it's to the sensation of drowning, mouth opening to grasp for air only to find nothing but water rushing down his throat and into his lungs. For a moment, brief and heart-stopping, where he's certain that this is it, this is how he's going to die. It wouldn't be some templar sword that finally ended him, but an ocean of murky water with no way out.

But there's sun shining from above, and he shoves against something solid, forces his way to the top just before his lungs give out and he's left gasping and coughing up disgusting mouthfuls of water, clinging to the side of the fountain.

Inn; Open To All

After being literally ripped away from his world and dumped unceremoniously into a fountain - and then being hauled out of said fountain by a girl who was literally half his size - Ezio isn't exactly feeling his normal self. Especially considering the fact that everything had been taken from him. His father's robes, his dual hidden blades and all of the attachments that Leonardo had worked so tirelessly to replicate for him.

But he is clean and he is dry, which is a far better state than he had arrived in. He had been told that there was food to be had at the Inn, and so that's where he's currently headed. Once there, he'll indeed find his way into the kitchen and retrieve a bowl of whatever happens to be on the stove, before sitting rather unceremoniously into the nearest chair. He had been told there would be days like this, of course, but he was pretty certain this wasn't what his uncle had meant.

South Village; Open To All

In the days following his arrival, Ezio had spent most of his time either in the Inn, reading the complete history of the village, or in the library, attempting to do as much research as possible. Just because everyone said there wasn't a known and sure-fire way to leave didn't mean he wasn't going to attempt to find one.

Once night fell, however, he would set out on his own, running along the rooftops of the nearby houses, formulating paths in his mind of the best routes to take. To and from the inn, naturally. To and from the library. To and from the outer edges of the village, just in case. It was freezing and the roofs were often slippery, and more than once he lost his footing and slid far more than he would have liked. Especially considering he was unused to the boots and clothing that he had been given. Occasionally, he would stumble upon an abandoned house and poke around it in, with the hopes that he would find something more suitable. Leather gloves for a better grip, or shoes with more flexible soles.

Comments

[justblendin]

Admittedly, cooking had never been one of Ezio's strongest suits. Certainly, he had learned a few things from his mother when he had been a young child and absolutely attached to her hip. But considering all he had found so far was a pot and what looked like some sort of root vegetable he had never seen before, his prospects weren't looking exceptionally good.

She made a strange sight indeed, dressed far more like a noblewoman than someone who should be toiling around in a hot kitchen. But when she spoke and offered him some of the food she was preparing, he knew he would be absolutely foolish not to accept.

"It is kind of you to offer. Grazie."

[thekittenqueen]

It didn't take long to sear the rest of the rabbit and season it properly. Once plated, she offered it to Ezio first, letting him choose what pieces he wanted. She may not have the same wealth that she enjoyed in Westeros, but her sense of hospitality remained the same.

"You are new to the village?" She knew the answer but asked anyway. She may not have seen him emerge from the fountain, but she knew the look of new arrivals after two years in this world. That look of confusion, that lost feeling that permeated around like a cloud.

"It is a bit to take in, I imagine?"

[justblendin]

When it was finished the meat looked surprisingly good for being as simple as it was. He chose a few smaller pieces, leaving the best ones behind for her, his own sense of politeness still alive and well, even if it had been a rather long time he'd made use of it.

"Si. How could you tell?" Except he probably did look every bit like a deer trapped in the headlights.

[thekittenqueen]

"I have had time to learn how to spot new arrivals." She smiled at him, as though sharing some great secret. "There is a certain look in the eyes. It will last until your first few months pass." If he remained that long. Perhaps he would be fortunate and be allowed to leave?

"So many have come and gone over the years."

[justblendin]

"You have been here for years?" Honestly, the idea of being trapped here for that long was far from appealing. Especially when his work was so far from over back home.

[thekittenqueen]

"Near three years." She admitted, trying not to linger over the details. Time often seemed to run together here, much to her chagrin. It was a quiet life, one she was often at odds with, hovering between grateful and resentful.