Leonardo is standing over him with a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. He smiles before turning back to his table, and Ezio gets up as well and stares down at the mess on the desk, the shuffling of which had lulled him to sleep. Atop of the mess sits his hidden blade, and Ezio reached for it and puts it back onto his right wrist, testing the mechanism within a couple times. It'd taken a few hours, but the blade was no longer catching halfway, it slid into place as smoothly as the first day he'd worn it.
"Thank you, Leonardo. It is much better." The assassin smiles warmly to his friend, who smiles back.
"Say nothing, Ezio," his eyes dart away then back, "wait here, I have some tea a friend brought for me from China." Leonardo scurries off before Ezio can reply. Ezio chuckles under his breath, dropping his hand to the desk and idly running his fingers over it. A map shifts with his touch, revealing a mess of personal sketches. Ezio looks up as though he'd been caught looking at something private, but Leonardo is still nowhere to be found.
There are sketches of people in the market place, some more detailed than others, and some focused on entirely on hands, like a hand dropping coins into another, or a pair of hands resting on a lap. There are about ten drawings before Ezio sees them.
Fresher drawings in a heavier material, charcoal most likely. There are only three but they all depict the same thing; Ezio, asleep in the very position he'd woken in about five minutes ago. At first, he is embarrassed, his mouth is slack and his legs spread open carelessly, is this really what he looks like when he's asleep?
But then he feels a flooding of warmth in his chest, and a feeling as though something within it was expanding and pressing against his ribcage.
No wonder it'd taken so long for Leo to fix his blade.
Footsteps approach the room and Ezio quickly places the sketches down again, and the map on top in the same position as before, hopefully.
There's a tap on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" Ezio just smiles. The artist before him smiles back just as warmly, holding out a cup of tea to Ezio.
"Haven't you got anything better to do, besides ruining my work?" His tone is accusing and cold, and Ezio is confused.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry, what I meant to say was 'Piss off'."
Ezio isn't wearing his armour and robes anymore. He's got a white hoodie and jeans on, and a tattoo over his left wrist. He is Desmond.
"A-ah. Right." Desmond laughs a little forcefully and shaking his head to clear it, looking down at Shaun's desk. It's covered with documents, folders... A map.
"Stop faffing about, you moron. And stop touching my desk!" Shaun hits him on the back of his head with a rolled up newspaper before walking away towards the small kitchen.
When he's gone, Desmond lifts the map up carefully with two fingers, peaks under it and sighs with relief.
Nothing.
----
tldr; Ezio/Leo or Alt/Mal memories blending seamlessly into Desmond's life, starting off subtly like above but then becoming intenser and more obvious. Until finally desmond accidentally wastes like four hours in his Monteriggioni break because he was lost in a memory. BP: Shaun/des I would write this myself but I've got a bit of the Drabble Syndrome and I can't write anything longer...
This is a Drabble!prompt..? Bleeding Effect Ezio/Leo + Desmond
"Thank you, Leonardo. It is much better." The assassin smiles warmly to his friend, who smiles back.
"Say nothing, Ezio," his eyes dart away then back, "wait here, I have some tea a friend brought for me from China." Leonardo scurries off before Ezio can reply. Ezio chuckles under his breath, dropping his hand to the desk and idly running his fingers over it. A map shifts with his touch, revealing a mess of personal sketches. Ezio looks up as though he'd been caught looking at something private, but Leonardo is still nowhere to be found.
There are sketches of people in the market place, some more detailed than others, and some focused on entirely on hands, like a hand dropping coins into another, or a pair of hands resting on a lap. There are about ten drawings before Ezio sees them.
Fresher drawings in a heavier material, charcoal most likely. There are only three but they all depict the same thing; Ezio, asleep in the very position he'd woken in about five minutes ago. At first, he is embarrassed, his mouth is slack and his legs spread open carelessly, is this really what he looks like when he's asleep?
But then he feels a flooding of warmth in his chest, and a feeling as though something within it was expanding and pressing against his ribcage.
No wonder it'd taken so long for Leo to fix his blade.
Footsteps approach the room and Ezio quickly places the sketches down again, and the map on top in the same position as before, hopefully.
There's a tap on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" Ezio just smiles. The artist before him smiles back just as warmly, holding out a cup of tea to Ezio.
"Haven't you got anything better to do, besides ruining my work?" His tone is accusing and cold, and Ezio is confused.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry, what I meant to say was 'Piss off'."
Ezio isn't wearing his armour and robes anymore. He's got a white hoodie and jeans on, and a tattoo over his left wrist. He is Desmond.
"A-ah. Right." Desmond laughs a little forcefully and shaking his head to clear it, looking down at Shaun's desk. It's covered with documents, folders... A map.
"Stop faffing about, you moron. And stop touching my desk!" Shaun hits him on the back of his head with a rolled up newspaper before walking away towards the small kitchen.
When he's gone, Desmond lifts the map up carefully with two fingers, peaks under it and sighs with relief.
Nothing.
----
tldr; Ezio/Leo or Alt/Mal memories blending seamlessly into Desmond's life, starting off subtly like above but then becoming intenser and more obvious. Until finally desmond accidentally wastes like four hours in his Monteriggioni break because he was lost in a memory. BP: Shaun/des
I would write this myself but I've got a bit of the Drabble Syndrome and I can't write anything longer...