Ezio Auditore da Firenze (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dominus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
plot_mischief2015-04-20 03:55 pm
dominus) wrote in plot_mischief2015-04-20 03:55 pm
for whatmenfear
A few contacts in Florence had got in touch with Ezio earlier in the week, warm invitations to stay, to tell them all about the lucky lady in his life. "When will we get to meet her?" Paola had asked with a smile and a wink, tipping her wine glass at him, not an ounce of age having diminished the madam's beauty.
"Soon," he assured her, assured everyone who put the question to him. Soon Sofia would be back in Italy to stay, soon they would start the next chapter of their lives together. What would happen then, he wasn't sure. It made him giddy with anticipation.
The nights were long, as they always were when he visited old friends, time spent catching up, reminiscing, making idle plans. One conversation, however, took a darker turn, made him set down his glass and take Paola's hands in his.
Someone was stalking her and her girls.
That was what had him out that night, chasing along avenues and alleyways, after the thing that had made Paola's shoulders shake with untold dread. It was a flash of streaming gold hair in the dark, a pulsing, red aura full of bile and malevolence, quick as lightning amid the grey drizzle. He should have called Vlad and his people in, shouldn't have gone alone, but Florence was his city, and the giggling creature whose steps he dogged had come after his people.
He cornered her in a garden, someone's prize roses snagging in their wet clothes when the chase became a snarling, vicious fight as she turned and came at him. It was over in seconds, when it seemed as though she'd up and vanished into the very air and Ezio, bewildered, backed into the side of a house to catch his breath, to regroup.
She pulled him over the roof as if he were a rag doll, cooed a name to him in a tender voice like mouldering silk, and sank her teeth into his throat.
Snapshots of his life came to the fore, blinding, unbidden, as if his nameless attacker were drawing them out of her own accord. Cristina smiling cheekily at him, haloed by the summer sun. His father and brothers, slain in the square not a stone's throw away. Mario, ever patient and shouting encouragement as he ran his nephew through training again and again. The look on Vieri di Pazzi's face when he found his schemes undone and a blade in his belly; the look of every man he'd cut down in revenge. The golden glow of the Apple, the frightening rush of power flooding his veins. Claudia, pleased with herself and her new business venture. Florence and Forli, Venice and Rome. Madrid, Istanbul. The faces of his apprentices; Vlad's warm laugh over countless glasses of wine; the first time he laid eyes on Sofia in the terminal and felt that incomprehensible draw toward her.
The thought that crossed his mind, wrapped in the memory of Sofia's smile, of her body fitting so warm and perfect in his arms, of her fingers laced with his, was 'I don't want to die.'
Not now. Please, not now.
The thing that had him, cradling his limp form to her like a mother coddling her baby, accepted.
"Soon," he assured her, assured everyone who put the question to him. Soon Sofia would be back in Italy to stay, soon they would start the next chapter of their lives together. What would happen then, he wasn't sure. It made him giddy with anticipation.
The nights were long, as they always were when he visited old friends, time spent catching up, reminiscing, making idle plans. One conversation, however, took a darker turn, made him set down his glass and take Paola's hands in his.
Someone was stalking her and her girls.
That was what had him out that night, chasing along avenues and alleyways, after the thing that had made Paola's shoulders shake with untold dread. It was a flash of streaming gold hair in the dark, a pulsing, red aura full of bile and malevolence, quick as lightning amid the grey drizzle. He should have called Vlad and his people in, shouldn't have gone alone, but Florence was his city, and the giggling creature whose steps he dogged had come after his people.
He cornered her in a garden, someone's prize roses snagging in their wet clothes when the chase became a snarling, vicious fight as she turned and came at him. It was over in seconds, when it seemed as though she'd up and vanished into the very air and Ezio, bewildered, backed into the side of a house to catch his breath, to regroup.
She pulled him over the roof as if he were a rag doll, cooed a name to him in a tender voice like mouldering silk, and sank her teeth into his throat.
Snapshots of his life came to the fore, blinding, unbidden, as if his nameless attacker were drawing them out of her own accord. Cristina smiling cheekily at him, haloed by the summer sun. His father and brothers, slain in the square not a stone's throw away. Mario, ever patient and shouting encouragement as he ran his nephew through training again and again. The look on Vieri di Pazzi's face when he found his schemes undone and a blade in his belly; the look of every man he'd cut down in revenge. The golden glow of the Apple, the frightening rush of power flooding his veins. Claudia, pleased with herself and her new business venture. Florence and Forli, Venice and Rome. Madrid, Istanbul. The faces of his apprentices; Vlad's warm laugh over countless glasses of wine; the first time he laid eyes on Sofia in the terminal and felt that incomprehensible draw toward her.
The thought that crossed his mind, wrapped in the memory of Sofia's smile, of her body fitting so warm and perfect in his arms, of her fingers laced with his, was 'I don't want to die.'
Not now. Please, not now.
The thing that had him, cradling his limp form to her like a mother coddling her baby, accepted.
no subject
"You believe you can take what is rightfully mine? Again?" There was a low noise that punctuated that, the sort of noise no human woman could ever make. It rattled in her chest and bubbled up into her throat, harsh, feral anger. This Romanian prick had a lot of fucking nerve.
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"People are not dolls. Not property. They do not exist for our amusement."
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She spun to face him, eyes wide. "I have been more than reasonable, messere. Leave him and go." Her lips drew back from her teeth, fangs bared.
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Some might consider it arrogance, and perhaps they would be right, but Vlad rested sure in the knowledge of, if not his own superiority then the fact that he could take her down with him.
no subject
She came at her enemy like a spitting cat, sharp nails and teeth bared.
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Laughing, a low and bitter sort of sound, fingers flexing (claws sharpening) as he readied himself for the next attack. Hoping to enrage her further, to draw her attention, keeping her from circling back for the others. "You're going to have to do better than that, madonna."
no subject
Turning on a dime, her filthy skirt flaring with the motion, her hair a banner of dusty gold, she was suddenly there and then she's not, dispersed into a fine mist like morning fog. It moved with its own mind, spilling onto the floor, over Vlad's shoes and around his legs, and then she was there again with clutching hands and raking claws to take him to the ground.
A shout came from upstairs, as did the shattering of glass and splintering of wood, and something heavy and inanimate landed in the courtyard outside. Claudia wailed, a long, mournful note, and Domenica flashed a smile of triumph at her enemy.
(( I'm always happy to help! ))
no subject
It was dirty fighting of the worst sort, perhaps, but then there was little time for niceties when one was fighting for their lives.
'If we live through this, I'm going to really have to take Ezio up on his offer.' He thought, striking at her ribs with his elbow.
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It's clear she wasn't a fighter, not one that could go toe to toe with another vampire at the very least-- Ezio's Achille's had been his lack of an answer for her speed and strength. She could teach him though. She would, she would. She'd tear away anything and everything that tied him to humanity still, until he had no where else to turn but straight into her welcoming arms.
"You can't take him from me! I'll find him, I will roam the whole of the earth to take back what is mine, I swear it!"
no subject
Trust him to make a lasting impression even when he was at work. Though, given the trail of broken hearts the Italian had managed to leave in his wake he could not say he was particularly surprised.
Even so there was no way that she would be allowed to have him. Not while there was any sort of chance -- especially if there were any sort of chance.
He rolled his shoulder, wincing at the sharp stab of pain. "We shall see about that."
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"I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!" Domenica shrieked from the hold Vlad's put her in, foaming blood at the mouth and thrashing ineffectually, all her energy taken in from Ezio very nearly spent. She couldn't win, she knew it, but still fought, all her hatred and possessive fury spilling out.
"It's through the heart, isn't it?" Claudia interrupted from the doorway, a low, stern counterpoint to the vampire's pitched screams. She gripped a shattered bit of chair leg, a casualty of Vlad and Domenica's battle, her chin raised, her face tear-streaked.
no subject
The movies tended to make this part look easy, as if one solid prod would make the vampire deflate like a punctured balloon, when more often than not it was trauma to the heart that would bring about death. It was a process that could take up to several minutes to occur and even weakened most vampires were capable of unleashing considerable damage upon their adversary -- more than a few hunters had met their end in such a way.
Thankfully, she was restrained and for all she fought like an animal cornered she could not match Vlad for sheer force of will. "Quickly now."
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At Vlad's urging, Claudia turned the stake in hand for an overhand grip, and came for the vampire. She seized her by the front of her filthy, ancient dress, snagging in her golden hair, and drove the point of the wooden stake into Domenica's chest with a grunt of effort.
no subject
Then would come the veins, thick and inky-black, spiralling across her body until it covered every inch of skin; whatever magic that held her body unravelling, gathering speed until, quite suddenly, it would give way. Collapsing in on itself, dust and grit spilling out across the floor, leaving only the lingering scent of grave-dirt hanging in the air.
It was always like this with the old ones, he reflected, dragging a hand across his mouth slowly as he inspected the remains. He wasn't alone, Claudia's eyes drawn to the pathetic pile of ash, the familiar look of disbelief settling across her features.
“Claudia,” he said finally, causing her gaze to snap toward him. There would be time enough to make sense of what had happened later, possibly over a glass or two of brandy. Right now, the most immediate threat removed, they needed to move before things became complicated. “Where is your brother?”