Leonardo has always been defined by his curiosity and the more he thought he knew the more barren his mind felt. The Apple assured him of that. The more he could use the Apple, the clearer the implications behind Bayek’s words. Those questions of earlier still burned his mind and every time he awoke in a sweat and Bayek was there he felt ashamed. Not of the fact that he doubted the genuinity of Bayek but the hard consideration that he might have done anything to find out the truth. That his curiosity burned all the brighter when Bayek spoke, of his home and his people, words that he cannot pronounce without a fumble but could in time. He felt ashamed to admit that if perhaps Bayek could slip through time, perhaps he could as well.
Leonardo wondered if Bayek had his own doubts, if that was why he was so reluctant to speak with him at first. Although that would then have raised the implication that they were both fabrications of that otherworldly power.. Had Bayek simply found his company agreeable only because Leonardo was all that was left for him? The only soul who had reached into the Apple, trapped in the void that was, only to be released every time someone chanced in? Bayek did not speak with Ezio just as Ezio did not acknowledge him. Other times Bayek would dissipate, gone so easily and silently that it almost frightened him. The truth was that the idea of losing Bayek was unfathomable had him frightened as well.
Bayek would stand at his side diligently nonetheless. Their shoulders would brush and Leonardo would thank that his concentration was profound lest he slipped up. Not that his concentration was so easily deterred but perhaps because he would have gladly bestowed his focus devotedly to Bayek in all his entirety. There was a rumble of a laugh, nothing unkind nor foul but sincere and profound. Bayek’s bracer caught Leonardo’s shirt sleeve but then he let the other lace his fingers atop his and guide it to form a different crease on the page. The ink bled just a bit and what Bayek seemed to consider for the design would have allowed more freedom in movement.
The quill raised then settled on the side. Leonardo knew that the lines would become presentable as his own the next day or even the next glance, as if Bayek’s influence would simply cease to exist. Bayek did not move away. He was tersely aware of this, of the way his hand lingered. It dropped just as his pulse declined into something of a normal rate. Those fingers reached up and grazed across his temple, at the blond hair that spilled there. The path he traced might have been something to represent good luck or fortune or even damnation. Then Bayek shifted. He leaned a little bit closer and the single word was an exhale. ”Leonardo.” It was not the first time his name has been spoken by Bayek, not like that, but it has an effect on him all the same. His head turned and he could see the full brown of Bayek’s eyes, the strong crook of his nose and the line that creased his upper lip. Suddenly but not for the first time, Leonardo considered to ask him to model for him. Perhaps with less clothes on. However, that thought for once was followed with the realization that perhaps Bayek would agree.
Leonardo’s mouth curved up slightly with melancholy.
Yes, perhaps he has lost his sanity along the way. That this juggling act between curiosity and answers would undoubtedly topple on him. Perhaps certain lines on a painting must never be marked over with white, especially if the rest of it was in colour. But Leonardo has always been one to try and try again, until he was either satisfied or ashamed or just tired of it all. The concept of humanity was distorted when in correlation with something as holy as the Apple, from whence Bayek came. Leonardo has every whim of a mortal human, though, one who dipped his toes into the goblet of truth. He was a man and he could be selfish. What he coveted was Bayek, though. When it finally came to it, he could paint Bayek’s form on his easel and be assured that sometimes it was alright to feel that way.
Later, Ezio would saunter in after Bayek has long since passed. Whether that meant he has gone into his own timeline or trascended or became enveloped by the Apple once more, Leonardo was unaware. His time with Bayek might not yield answers but perhaps instead only questions. Curiosity could not be tamed and the painter keeps painting. Leonardo had always invented things and his secret of Bayek was one of them. There was no shame in his secrecy anymore, just the longing of a man who enjoyed the company and wisdom and voice of someone who offered it. As well as the fact that he skulked about with it, as if he truly did fear the knowledge of it passing to anyone. Perhaps that had been the problem all along.
Ezio’s gaze had lingered on Leonardo’s flesh and the teasing remarks came, but with it came the truth. Bayek, in some sense of the word, was real. Whether he was a construct of his own, a creation for him by the Apple or something else entirely - a ghost, a phantom, an idea of eternity and beyond. Ezio knew that Leonardo chose to hide something from him but he also knew that he did not need to know everything. When the young Assassin went off on a tangent about another piece of Altaïr’s Codex that he has found, Leonardo found that he smiled. Perhaps he was not the only one with a secret of his own.
Later though, after Ezio has gone he stood next to the chest with the Apple and considered everything. His existence, Bayek’s, the Creed, the ancestral magic that people have fought over and died for. Did it give without sacrifice? Was that its appeal? Or has it taken something from Leonardo already? What else would it demand if he asked for this: if Bayek was real and could visit Leonardo, why could he not visit him?
However, answers would come with both time and patience. Both of which Leonardo has ample of. So he set up his easel and stretched the cloth and took out his white paint. However, his brush did not dip there. Sometimes, new beginnings were not the choice to erase everything and start over. Sometimes, things began anew when they overlapped the ending of something else until it was its own creation. Leonardo has always painted and invented things - pieces of art that he has shattered his soul to put into. It has always been something he has done. It will be what he continued to do after Bayek has gone, just as he did before. For this piece, he did not invent a story - he told one. One of truths and sincerity, of guilt and shame that passed, and of men who stood in his workshop and listened to the silence. With each stroke of his brush he confirmed that the world did not need answers, only those who asked questions. Perhaps some day he would ask the right ones and perhaps someday Bayek would stay.
Fill 2/2
Leonardo wondered if Bayek had his own doubts, if that was why he was so reluctant to speak with him at first. Although that would then have raised the implication that they were both fabrications of that otherworldly power.. Had Bayek simply found his company agreeable only because Leonardo was all that was left for him? The only soul who had reached into the Apple, trapped in the void that was, only to be released every time someone chanced in? Bayek did not speak with Ezio just as Ezio did not acknowledge him. Other times Bayek would dissipate, gone so easily and silently that it almost frightened him. The truth was that the idea of losing Bayek was unfathomable had him frightened as well.
Bayek would stand at his side diligently nonetheless. Their shoulders would brush and Leonardo would thank that his concentration was profound lest he slipped up. Not that his concentration was so easily deterred but perhaps because he would have gladly bestowed his focus devotedly to Bayek in all his entirety. There was a rumble of a laugh, nothing unkind nor foul but sincere and profound. Bayek’s bracer caught Leonardo’s shirt sleeve but then he let the other lace his fingers atop his and guide it to form a different crease on the page. The ink bled just a bit and what Bayek seemed to consider for the design would have allowed more freedom in movement.
The quill raised then settled on the side. Leonardo knew that the lines would become presentable as his own the next day or even the next glance, as if Bayek’s influence would simply cease to exist. Bayek did not move away. He was tersely aware of this, of the way his hand lingered. It dropped just as his pulse declined into something of a normal rate. Those fingers reached up and grazed across his temple, at the blond hair that spilled there. The path he traced might have been something to represent good luck or fortune or even damnation. Then Bayek shifted. He leaned a little bit closer and the single word was an exhale. ”Leonardo.” It was not the first time his name has been spoken by Bayek, not like that, but it has an effect on him all the same. His head turned and he could see the full brown of Bayek’s eyes, the strong crook of his nose and the line that creased his upper lip. Suddenly but not for the first time, Leonardo considered to ask him to model for him. Perhaps with less clothes on. However, that thought for once was followed with the realization that perhaps Bayek would agree.
Leonardo’s mouth curved up slightly with melancholy.
Yes, perhaps he has lost his sanity along the way. That this juggling act between curiosity and answers would undoubtedly topple on him. Perhaps certain lines on a painting must never be marked over with white, especially if the rest of it was in colour. But Leonardo has always been one to try and try again, until he was either satisfied or ashamed or just tired of it all. The concept of humanity was distorted when in correlation with something as holy as the Apple, from whence Bayek came. Leonardo has every whim of a mortal human, though, one who dipped his toes into the goblet of truth. He was a man and he could be selfish. What he coveted was Bayek, though. When it finally came to it, he could paint Bayek’s form on his easel and be assured that sometimes it was alright to feel that way.
Later, Ezio would saunter in after Bayek has long since passed. Whether that meant he has gone into his own timeline or trascended or became enveloped by the Apple once more, Leonardo was unaware. His time with Bayek might not yield answers but perhaps instead only questions. Curiosity could not be tamed and the painter keeps painting. Leonardo had always invented things and his secret of Bayek was one of them. There was no shame in his secrecy anymore, just the longing of a man who enjoyed the company and wisdom and voice of someone who offered it. As well as the fact that he skulked about with it, as if he truly did fear the knowledge of it passing to anyone. Perhaps that had been the problem all along.
Ezio’s gaze had lingered on Leonardo’s flesh and the teasing remarks came, but with it came the truth. Bayek, in some sense of the word, was real. Whether he was a construct of his own, a creation for him by the Apple or something else entirely - a ghost, a phantom, an idea of eternity and beyond. Ezio knew that Leonardo chose to hide something from him but he also knew that he did not need to know everything. When the young Assassin went off on a tangent about another piece of Altaïr’s Codex that he has found, Leonardo found that he smiled. Perhaps he was not the only one with a secret of his own.
Later though, after Ezio has gone he stood next to the chest with the Apple and considered everything. His existence, Bayek’s, the Creed, the ancestral magic that people have fought over and died for. Did it give without sacrifice? Was that its appeal? Or has it taken something from Leonardo already? What else would it demand if he asked for this: if Bayek was real and could visit Leonardo, why could he not visit him?
However, answers would come with both time and patience. Both of which Leonardo has ample of. So he set up his easel and stretched the cloth and took out his white paint. However, his brush did not dip there. Sometimes, new beginnings were not the choice to erase everything and start over. Sometimes, things began anew when they overlapped the ending of something else until it was its own creation. Leonardo has always painted and invented things - pieces of art that he has shattered his soul to put into. It has always been something he has done. It will be what he continued to do after Bayek has gone, just as he did before. For this piece, he did not invent a story - he told one. One of truths and sincerity, of guilt and shame that passed, and of men who stood in his workshop and listened to the silence. With each stroke of his brush he confirmed that the world did not need answers, only those who asked questions. Perhaps some day he would ask the right ones and perhaps someday Bayek would stay.
Today, he just existed.