"I do not regret those years, but it is time to live for myself, and let them go. To let go of all of this," Ezio said quietly, his tone making each statement into a confession of sorts, words he was never quite ready to breathe to another soul until now.
Sofia lifted a hand to his face, drew her fingers back through his messy hair and cupped his cheek, considering him in the comfortable silence. "Then let go," she said simply, evenly, with a kind of gentleness he hadn't known in so very long. "You will not fall far."
Ezio came to gradually, almost unwillingly, the veil of sleep caught on aching limbs, on a clouded head. He was sitting up, resting awkwardly against a wall in some unknown place, a position that became more and more uncomfortable as his awareness rose to take hold.
Stiff from sleep, disoriented beyond reason, Ezio grimaced when he moved to rise and felt his muscles protest, felt his joints throb. They were sensations that came and went, coupled with a peculiar sort of cramped roiling in his belly, hunger or nausea chewing deep as he steadied himself. He felt...sweaty, uncomfortably hot as if fever-struck, while he squinted into the dimness around him. A room took shape, dust layering the floor, sheets thrown over furniture, wallpaper peeling in petal-like curls away from the crown molding.
He was...home? No, no, the place hadn't been home for twenty some odd years, even as he recognized it as what it used to be. The Auditore family home in Florence, closed up tight since he fled with his mother and sister so many years ago. Why would he be there?
Running a hand back through his hair, he tried to remember, tried to piece together the scattered fragments of his memory after that thing in the darkness had torn through all of them like a thief searching for hidden gold. There was no phone in his pocket, actually he had no coat on at all, just the thin layer of undershirt against the heat, and the distinct taste of copper in his mouth.
no subject
Sofia lifted a hand to his face, drew her fingers back through his messy hair and cupped his cheek, considering him in the comfortable silence. "Then let go," she said simply, evenly, with a kind of gentleness he hadn't known in so very long. "You will not fall far."
Ezio came to gradually, almost unwillingly, the veil of sleep caught on aching limbs, on a clouded head. He was sitting up, resting awkwardly against a wall in some unknown place, a position that became more and more uncomfortable as his awareness rose to take hold.
Stiff from sleep, disoriented beyond reason, Ezio grimaced when he moved to rise and felt his muscles protest, felt his joints throb. They were sensations that came and went, coupled with a peculiar sort of cramped roiling in his belly, hunger or nausea chewing deep as he steadied himself. He felt...sweaty, uncomfortably hot as if fever-struck, while he squinted into the dimness around him. A room took shape, dust layering the floor, sheets thrown over furniture, wallpaper peeling in petal-like curls away from the crown molding.
He was...home? No, no, the place hadn't been home for twenty some odd years, even as he recognized it as what it used to be. The Auditore family home in Florence, closed up tight since he fled with his mother and sister so many years ago. Why would he be there?
Running a hand back through his hair, he tried to remember, tried to piece together the scattered fragments of his memory after that thing in the darkness had torn through all of them like a thief searching for hidden gold. There was no phone in his pocket, actually he had no coat on at all, just the thin layer of undershirt against the heat, and the distinct taste of copper in his mouth.