First time filling, so critique is appreciated :D -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
He could not seem to catch a break. Every time he tried to flee, tried to run away from his past, that pezzo di merda assassino appeared to ruin his life even further under the disguise of a dutiful brother protecting the honour of his sister. Duccio snorted, taking another swig of his wine. ‘Honour. That cagna had no more honour than the rest of her family. Auditore scum.’ he said, spitting out the words with the acid dripping from every word. No wonder his father told him that he could do better. To be associated with such filth... His mind drifted away to the last time he ‘met’ with the assassino. The look in his eyes… He shivered subconsciously, remembering the aura of death that the man wore like a cloak, haunting him in his sleep.
‘I will not let some lowly family get to me.’ He stood up, his mind set on returning to the market for a confrontation with the man, only to feel his legs buckle under him, sending him crashing back onto the crates he had been lounging on ever since he acquired the bottle of liquor. Sighing, he finished the drink and threw the bottle towards the wall opposite of him. But instead of the expected crash, he heard a soft thump, and then a mocking chuckle.
Duccio immediately shoved himself onto his feet, holding on to the crates for support. ‘Who is there! Show yourself!’ He was met with silence, and an eerie feeling washed over him. ‘I know you’re there!’ He screamed, pulling his dagger from the folds of his clothing, ready to defend himself as best as he could in his hazy state of mind. The air around him shifted, and before he could turn himself around he doubled over in pain, a vicious fist having hit him in the stomach. Fighting the urge to heave, he heard the same mirthless chuckle, this time much closer. ‘Speaking such vile words, while you yourself are drinking your sorrows away in the filth, Duccio.’ The man spoke in a low and threatening voice, sending shivers down Duccio’s spine. He recognized that voice. Snapping his head up he stared into the hooded face of Ezio Auditore, the very man who he wished dead more than anything else. Although aged significantly, he still looked every bit the Florentine nobleman he knew all those years ago. In his drunken stupor he realized that this was his chance to get even with the lurido bastardo. Get back for the humiliation he suffered, the scars he received and the memories he cursed him with. Feeling the fury spread inside him like a fire, he gathered every last ounce of strength in him and lunged at the hooded figure, slashing his dagger wildly in an attempt to do as much damage as possible before collapsing on the ground, exhausted from the alcohol and exertion.
The move surprised Ezio, not thinking him capable of doing anything more than drawling insults and attempting to stand up straight. Yet the man who ran from him as soon as he spotted his old foe was now fighting back. It was not much of a fight, but a fight nonetheless. Wondering what made him make such a mad move, he raised his hand to his face to touch the shallow cut the blade had left, feeling a small amount of blood trailing down his cheek and onto the collar of his robe. Anger boiled up inside him as he looked at Duccio, who now was curled up on the ground. Before he could reach the dagger that he had dropped after the assault, Ezio brought his booted foot down onto the hand of the man, feeling satisfied by the yelp of pain it brought forth. ‘Are you tired of running now, Duccio?’ he asked, crunching the hand as Duccio could only whimper in response. Continuing in a mockingly sweet tone he moved his boot from the other man’s hand and placed it on his neck, turning him on his back in the process. ‘Do you think yourself man enough to face the consequences of your cowardly actions?’ when no reply came, he kicked his leg into his side, causing the figure to gasp in pain as he struggled to find his voice.
Compromise part 1a
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He could not seem to catch a break. Every time he tried to flee, tried to run away from his past, that pezzo di merda assassino appeared to ruin his life even further under the disguise of a dutiful brother protecting the honour of his sister. Duccio snorted, taking another swig of his wine. ‘Honour. That cagna had no more honour than the rest of her family. Auditore scum.’ he said, spitting out the words with the acid dripping from every word. No wonder his father told him that he could do better. To be associated with such filth... His mind drifted away to the last time he ‘met’ with the assassino. The look in his eyes… He shivered subconsciously, remembering the aura of death that the man wore like a cloak, haunting him in his sleep.
‘I will not let some lowly family get to me.’ He stood up, his mind set on returning to the market for a confrontation with the man, only to feel his legs buckle under him, sending him crashing back onto the crates he had been lounging on ever since he acquired the bottle of liquor. Sighing, he finished the drink and threw the bottle towards the wall opposite of him. But instead of the expected crash, he heard a soft thump, and then a mocking chuckle.
Duccio immediately shoved himself onto his feet, holding on to the crates for support. ‘Who is there! Show yourself!’ He was met with silence, and an eerie feeling washed over him. ‘I know you’re there!’ He screamed, pulling his dagger from the folds of his clothing, ready to defend himself as best as he could in his hazy state of mind. The air around him shifted, and before he could turn himself around he doubled over in pain, a vicious fist having hit him in the stomach. Fighting the urge to heave, he heard the same mirthless chuckle, this time much closer. ‘Speaking such vile words, while you yourself are drinking your sorrows away in the filth, Duccio.’ The man spoke in a low and threatening voice, sending shivers down Duccio’s spine. He recognized that voice. Snapping his head up he stared into the hooded face of Ezio Auditore, the very man who he wished dead more than anything else. Although aged significantly, he still looked every bit the Florentine nobleman he knew all those years ago. In his drunken stupor he realized that this was his chance to get even with the lurido bastardo. Get back for the humiliation he suffered, the scars he received and the memories he cursed him with. Feeling the fury spread inside him like a fire, he gathered every last ounce of strength in him and lunged at the hooded figure, slashing his dagger wildly in an attempt to do as much damage as possible before collapsing on the ground, exhausted from the alcohol and exertion.
The move surprised Ezio, not thinking him capable of doing anything more than drawling insults and attempting to stand up straight. Yet the man who ran from him as soon as he spotted his old foe was now fighting back. It was not much of a fight, but a fight nonetheless. Wondering what made him make such a mad move, he raised his hand to his face to touch the shallow cut the blade had left, feeling a small amount of blood trailing down his cheek and onto the collar of his robe. Anger boiled up inside him as he looked at Duccio, who now was curled up on the ground. Before he could reach the dagger that he had dropped after the assault, Ezio brought his booted foot down onto the hand of the man, feeling satisfied by the yelp of pain it brought forth. ‘Are you tired of running now, Duccio?’ he asked, crunching the hand as Duccio could only whimper in response. Continuing in a mockingly sweet tone he moved his boot from the other man’s hand and placed it on his neck, turning him on his back in the process. ‘Do you think yourself man enough to face the consequences of your cowardly actions?’ when no reply came, he kicked his leg into his side, causing the figure to gasp in pain as he struggled to find his voice.