asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.6
Open
Open
Sky World
≈ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
≈ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
≈ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
≈ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
≈ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
≈ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
≈ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive
#3 (Delicious.com) Archive <-- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Of Artists and Assassins (7/10)
(Anonymous) 2013-08-26 05:42 pm (UTC)(link)“So,” Leonardo began, leaning back in his seat and discreetly held up a napkin to hide his burp.
“I can’t stay faithful,” Ezio said, having spent the meal thinking, and figured that that little step might as well be out in the open from the very beginning. He had tried, of course, but inevitably his attention would wander, no matter how much he cared about the other person, and while Ezio had the single minded determinedness of a ballistica bolt, he was also well aware that he had the willpower of a particularly wet sock.
The artist’s smile turned wry. “The day you stay faithful to someone, Ezio, is when you’re ten years from the grave of old age,” he said. “Besides, I cannot well ask for something that I know I cannot offer in return.”
The assassin raised a curious eyebrow at that.
“I have the very finest young men that bella Italia has to offer come to my bottega to be sketched and painted,” Leonardo elaborated, the barest of a flush on his cheeks, although his smile was unashamed. “Most who insist that it is done with little or no clothes. Many who are young enough to be curious and quite lussuriosi, and value the flesh over the law. Honestly, you cannot possibly expect me to be able to stay loyal without giving up my art at the same time.”
Ezio smirked. “Corrompere i giovani, are you? Leonardo, you sly dog! Makes me wish I had agreed when my mother asked if I could model for her pet painter, instead of bullying Federico into going instead…” He paused, something clicking in his head, remembering when his brother had returned from one such modelling session in a remarkably better mood than when he had left, and with several lovebites he had desperately tried to hide under his collar. At the time, Ezio merely had thought his brother had taken a detour home, as Ezio himself had done so often. “Leonardo… Did you and Federico..?”
The artist did not reply, but his telltale blush and sudden refusal to meet Ezio’s eyes was plenty of answer on their own.
“Well,” the assassin said after a moment to digest that new bit of information, and leaned over the table, hungry grin snapping back in place, “at least now I know you won’t be completely taken aback by the sheer passion of an Auditore.”
“There is… One more thing,” Leonardo said, fiddling with his cup, though his gaze was warm and determined. “This won’t be just once. I refuse to be merely another notch in your spalliera.”
“Va bene. I had not planned on it being a one-time experience, either. That would not be fair to you or to me,” Ezio said with a nod, leaning his weight on his arms. “Any other conditions?” he asked, grin widening. “Any restrictions on the use of shackles? Of toys? Or molesting you in public?”
That got a reaction, as Leonardo flinched; the old, raw terror that Ezio had glimpsed earlier returning in full. “Nothing public. I… I would prefer if but the two of us know of it,” Leonardo said, that beautiful lust and need having been replaced entirely by worry and fear.
Ezio quietly swore, but, at least he had found out where those ghosts lay. Now he just had to find out who had put that terror in his beautiful, friendly, all-around cheery friend, and figure out a particularly slow and painful way of killing them. “Leonardo..?”
The artist took a steadying breath, eyes on the empty cup in his hands. “There were… people, in Firenze, who learned of my preferences. There were many… accusations against me.” He paused and looked up, a weak but wry smile crossing his face. “Had you not killed Uberto Alberti when you had, he would most likely have ensured that my trial would be seen through, and that I would swing from the gallows.”
The assassin felt his hand twitch, although the lack of its usual bracer - currently sitting on the side of the table along with most of his other weapons - meant that the hidden blade could not pop out of at the reflexive motion. “I understand,” he said, flexing his hand under the table, and forced himself to give Leonardo a comforting smile. “Still, if either of us should be caught, I’m certain that they would much prefer to charge you for housing, aiding, and equipping a known assassino, rather than something as difficult to prove as sodomy.”
Thankfully, Leonardo laughed at that. “Ezio,” he said, the smile almost reaching his eyes, “if I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re trying to talk me out of this!”
“Well, there’s always the constant risk that I’ll bring an army of guards to your door; that someone may kidnap you and force you to make weapons for them; that I’ll bring home flesh-eating genitial parasites from one of the courtesans; or that you’ll simply end up tired of me barging through the window at all times of the day to raid your larder and drool all over your pillow,” Ezio cheerily replied, batting his eyelashes. “Really, Leonardo, there are several reasons as to why this would be a generally bad idea.”
Leonardo’s long, talented fingers tapped out a melody on the cup, although the old fear on his face was rapidly fading, to be replaced with open amusement and laughter, and just a bit of that lovely naked lust. “And why, amico mio, should we then do this?” he asked, head tilting slightly to the side, his grin playful.
Ezio rose from his seat and moved to lean over Leonardo’s, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Because, I’m discreet,” he said, moving to brush his lips against a soft eyelid, “and because you’re so much more than a painter or engineer or brief fling to me,” shifting to the other eyelid, tongue briefly darting out to taste that taunting freckle there, “and because I’m willing to try, and to keep trying even when I run into problems I cannot easily solve.” Finally reaching those wonderful lips, whispering against them, “and because I have a simply massive pene that I know how to use.”
Of Artists and Assassins (8/11)
(Anonymous) 2013-08-29 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)2324 cups of chocolate milk over the course of writing the story so far.Also, A!A currently find themselves in over their head with work, so adding an extra part to the story in order to update something.
Leonardo seized him by the front of his doublet, pulling him in for a long, hard kiss. “Do not make promises you may not be able to keep, caro mio,” he growled, before that iron grip pulled them together again.
“Who said anything about promises? I was merely stating facts,” Ezio replied with a smirk, his heart pounding for reasons entirely unrelated to the lack of air, and was hauled in for another rough kiss. “Now, if I was to make promises, it would be that neither of us will get any sleep until far past the sunrise.” A fourth kiss followed. “Or that I would ravish you until you’d be spoiled for any young model’s touch.” That earned him another kiss, this time with teeth and lips tugging at his lower lip until he moaned. “Or that, cazzo, Leonardo! Or that neither of us will be able to walk tomorrow!”
“Good promises,” Leonardo panted, hands firmly grabbing Ezio’s arse and practically pulling the assassin into his lap. “I like those promises.”
Ezio made a noise of approval, ground his hips forward and down and grinned into the kiss at how Leonardo groaned deeply, his grip trembling against the assassin.
“Upstairs, Ezio, per favore!” he gasped, fingers tangling in - but not pulling at - Ezio’s hair with said assassin leaned in to start kissing his way down a pale neck.
“Mm.. Why? I quite like the thought of having you gasping and writhing on the kitchen floor,” Ezio replied, thoroughly distracted with pulling open the artist’s shirt and figuring out just how far down those lovely, lickable freckles went.
“The bedroom is soundproofed.”
The assassin did cease his ministrations at that, looking up - well aware by now that, if not for other reasons, his cheeks would hurt in the morning from his grins. “Leonardo!” he chuckled.
Leonardo blushed scarlet, shoving at the other man hard enough that Ezio found himself on his feet instead of in Leonardo’s lap. “Not like that! I just like to sleep regardless of the noise on the street! Or have you, perhaps, forgotten that there is a tavern just a stone’s throw from here?”
“Save your excuses, Leonardo, and let us go take advantage of your soundproof bedroom,” the assassin grinned, grabbing one charcoal-stained hand in his and pulled the artist up as well. Feeling oddly giddy as he led the way through the dark workshop, Leonardo’s hand still in his.
Hyper aware of everything - the heat from the other man; the smells of bread and oil and soap on them both. The lingering dust in the air; the smell of sleep when they entered the bedroom - and then Leonardo spun him around and slammed him against the now-closed door.
Tongues and lips were quickly fully occupied with tasting each other again, and Ezio pulled at Leonardo’s shirt, trying to reveal more of that lovely skin to lick. The artist, however, gave up on trying to divert the assassin of the multitude of belts and buckles and overly ornate sashes that held his assassin’s robe in place - meant for an active lifestyle mostly involving laughing in the face of gravity and scampering up walls at a speed that could make a squirrel jealous - and instead tugged the cloth up to access the trousers beneath; dextrous hands making quick work of the knot and diving under the leather to stroke and caress.
Ezio pulled back with a snarl of pleasure, biting the shoulder he had been laving attention on, before settling for gasping and panting as he could literally feel Leonardo measure him. A small hum from the artist as those deviant hands stroked from root to tip, and then he leaned close, voice dropping a full octave as he all but breathed, “Voglio che mi scopi.”
It took a moment for those glorious words to filter through the assassin’s usually sharp mind, and then he pushed forward, walking Leonardo backwards until the back of the artist’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and, with a small squeak of surprise, he toppled backwards, dragging Ezio down with him. The assassin was quick to take advantage of the new position, pushing up on his hands to bestow kisses on his soon-to-be lover and firmly grind their hips together until Leonardo’s moans threatened to undo him.
“Slick?” he panted, all too aware of how the artist’s hands were busy kneading fistfuls of his arse.
“Drawer,” Leonardo ground out, teeth and lips mostly occupied with marking the other man’s neck.
Both hissed at the loss of contact when Ezio pulled back entirely, moving to the side to rummage through the nightstand - though Leonardo was doing his to keep the assassin’s attention distracted by rolling over, biting and caressing his rear, and hands doing a fair attempt of divesting him entirely of his trousers.
“Leonardo!” Ezio gasped, feeling a spit-slickened thumb skirt over his bottom, pressing against the puckered hole, and caused him to nearly drop the small bottle.
“Magnifico,” the artist murmured, teeth lightly scraping against soft skin. “I long to sketch you like this - so desperate and needy…”
“Perhaps later,” Ezio groaned, arching willingly when that finger slipped in and pressed against the sensitive spot within. “Enough! I wish to see you!”
Re: Of Artists and Assassins (9/11)
(Anonymous) 2013-09-05 08:22 pm (UTC)(link)Fun Fact: In Venice during the 1500s and 1600s, Jewish people were required to wear red hats. Leonardo da Vinci, though, was Christian, so that detail may have been Ubisoft goofing up while trying to make him easily recognisable in a crowd. Especially because he apparently DID wear a hat similar to what he has in the game, but it was most likely black. No stories of whether or not he would wear it everywhere, however.
Leonardo pulled back obediently at that, giving the assassin a much needed respite to recover his wits, and allowed them both time to undress. Ezio roughly yanked the robes over his own head once enough buckles had been loosened; emerging from the sea of white to find a gloriously aroused Leonardo laying his own, folded clothing over the back of the chair and mock-scowling when the assassin cheerfully kicked leggings and robe to the floor.
“If anything, I’ll grow tired of you leaving dirty clothes everywhere,” the artist affectionately grumbled, willingly moving to kneel astride Ezio when the latter beckoned him.
“I won’t complain about the sketches in the bedroom, if you don’t complain about the clothes on the floor,” the assassin chuckled, wrapping an oil-slick hand around Leonardo’s length.
The artist groaned, hips shifting to slide through that loose grip, his bright eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. Intent on taking advantage of the other’s docileness, Ezio brought his other hand around, testing the entrance. Leonardo moaned, arching beautifully, legs spreading further to allow access, and the assassin could not help a groan of his own at the sight.
“So greedy,” he breathed, pressing two fingers in, and felt rather than saw Leonardo’s fingers tighten in the sheets when he twisted them just so. “How many times have you touched yourself like this, imagining your fingers to be mine?”
“Troppi,” the artist gasped, hips stuttering as he tried to gain further friction.
Ezio pulled back then, savouring that hungry, needy whine of protest, before rolling them both over. While it was a less intriguing position than before, he could move freely now, and seized the opportunity to continue his old mission of licking each freckle while his hands returned to their tasks of stroking and petting. Leonardo made the perfect noise, half breathing Ezio’s name; half a prayer; and half a sound of raw, primal hunger. Arching willingly into the assassin’s hands, body greedily accepting three fingers with little difficulty.
“Bello,” Ezio murmured against skin, and bent to taste the hard, weeping length in his hand.
Leonardo screamed then, tossing his head back and clawed at the sheets; body arching, trying to gain more contact. The assassin found he had to use his free hand to pin the hips to the mattress, lest he ended up biting an area he had no plans for biting, but, in turn, could bop his head freely, fingers stroking in counter to every move.
The artist was panting his name like a prayer, hands scrabbling for purchase when Ezio’s teeth gently teased the head; fisting in the sheets when he curled his fingers just so; and grasped at the dark hair when the assassin sank down fully, letting the muscles of his throat do the work until his vision swam black from the lack of air. This, he decided, was a far more pleasant way to cause a jaw ache than grinning like an idiot throughout the day, especially when his reward were those desperate, needy sounds.
“Beautiful,” he panted, pulling back to catch his breath, and flared the four fingers he had fitted in, feeling the artist’s muscles tense at the sudden pressure; even as the artist pushed into the touch, desperate for more.
Re: Of Artists and Assassins (9/11)
(Anonymous) 2013-09-09 12:23 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Of Artists and Assassins (9/11)
(Anonymous) 2013-09-23 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)Of Artists and Assassins (10/11)
(Anonymous) 2013-09-30 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)Fun Fact: Leonardo da Vinci considered himself an engineer foremost, and a painter only as an afterthought. However, models and war machines are easily lost to time, and so we know him mostly as a painter - in the process forgetting that he was so ahead of his time that he was theorising about plate tectonics at a time where the vast majority of people couldn’t read.
Ezio was only dimly aware that his hands were shaking as he reached for the bottle of oil to slick himself with; his mind far too occupied with the sight of Leonardo spread across the bed sheets, sweat-matted hair sticking to skin, steely grey eyes dilated to the point of near total black, skin flushed with arousal, and chest heaving for breath.
“Magnifico,” the assassin groaned, certain that he could be undone by that sight alone.
“Ezio!” Leonardo all but snarled, body twisting to let him spread his legs wider. “I swear, if you don’t fuck me right this instant, I’ll-”
It was, Ezio decided, amazing how quickly the otherwise eloquent Leonardo could dissolve into nothing but moans and heady whimpers at the touch of a tongue on his cock.
His lips kissed a quick path upwards through the trail of coarse, golden hair; up a finely toned stomach; crossed the chest where he could feel that fluttering heartbeat against his lips; and finally rejoined that lovely mouth - feeling Leonardo’s arms and legs embracing him even as their tongues stroked and and caressed. Their lengths met, and, for a brief while, Ezio could not muster the willpower to pull away, savouring the slide of flesh against flesh too much.
“Take me, assassino,” Leonardo growled, breaking their kiss in favour of biting Ezio’s neck. “Before I pin you down and make you.”
“So impatient,” the assassin laughed, lavishing attention on one soft ear, enjoying the way he could cause soft gasps and moans against his skin. “You won’t let me make gentle, sweet love to you through the entire night?”
“Right now, I am not in the mood for neither gentle nor sweet,” the other groaned, grabbing onto a rear toned by running from guards, archers, and just for the fun of it, pulling them together with more force, and nipped a path up the assassin’s throat. “Ezio, please...”
That soft noise fully eroded any last shred of willpower, and Ezio was hardly aware of grabbing onto legs and shifting them both into position - only aware of the slide of flesh, of pressure growing around his cock, of trying, trying to be gentle, to push only when muscles around him relaxed and pause when they did not… Until Leonardo, frustrated with the slow pace, wrapped his legs around the assassin’s waist and pulled. Ezio gasped for breath, the very air nearly knocked from his lungs at the sudden spike of heat and pressure and bliss around him.
“Dio, you’re big,” Leonardo groaned against his neck, and the assassin felt the imprint of teeth against his skin. “Move, Ezio, before-”
The younger man snapped his hips forward at that, and the artist’s next words were drowned in a groaned gargle of pleasure, his arms’ embrace tightening, and Ezio was quite aware that he would have a thoroughly well-chewed neck come morning.
“You have no idea how good you look like this,” he moaned against one freckled ear, nipping at the lobe as his hips found a steady rhythm, feeling the artist’s gasps and groans against his skin at every dive forward. “Did you know, you were the one who drove me to such curiosity that I sleep with as many men as women these days?”
“Parlare di meno,” Leonardo panted, legs wrapping tighter around narrow hips, trying to urge the other into a quicker pace. “Scoparmi!”
Ezio pulled back, to Leonardo’s hissed protest and frantic grabbing, only to pull pale thighs over his shoulders, before plunging back in - and finding that he had a new hobby in discovering new ways to make his artist scream. Pushing forward, clawing for further purchase on the sheets as he drove deeper, faster, their rutting frantic and desperate. Pleasure building quickly; a coiling, thorny want that left Ezio with little thought beyond the urge to draw more moans from his lover; to make the blunt, paint-stained nails dig into his shoulders as his partner struggled to get him deeper, faster, and harder, Ezio, please!
Only too happy to oblige, he lifted up slightly, pushing the artist’s shoulders down with one hand, and reached between them. Leonardo gasped, eyes widening in shock, and then came apart, clenching gloriously around Ezio as he spilled between them. And the assassin found himself helpless to do any but follow - coming hard enough for it to be painful; momentarily blinded by the sheer bliss.
Slowly coming to his senses, feeling gentle fingers lazily comb through his hair. He moaned softly, feeling warmth around his flaccid flesh, and mouthed against sweat-salted skin, feeling the pulse there slowly recovering from its erratic beat.
“Buon compleanno,” he murmured, unable to help his own, satisfied grin, and shifted just enough for them to slip apart, refusing to mourn the loss of the warmth around him.
Leonardo made an unhappy, though still satisfied noise, not entirely unlike the giant cat for which he had been named. ”I think it beats the time when my father gave me my first charcoals,” he replied dreamily, fingers returning to coming through the dark hair.
“Good. Sleep now,” Ezio grumbled, and found himself shoved aside to lie beside Leonardo; though he was quick to wrap his arms around the other when the artist made to leave the bed, in a cuddle that threatened to turn violent if it was denied.
“Ezio..,” Leonardo said, sounding exasperated.
“We can complain in the morning about not having cleaned up,” the assassin said, already half-asleep, and curled more firmly around his lover.
Leonardo made a few, token protests more, but soon enough relented, and Ezio was only too happy to doze off with his ear pressed against a strong back, and the sound of a heartbeat lulling him to full sleep.
Of Artists and Assassins (11/11) - le fin
(Anonymous) 2013-10-10 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)Secondary fun fact: The Carnivale of 1484, the year of this story, fell in the start of February. Cristina and Ezio had their second-to-last meeting at the Carnivale in 1484. I did not actually plan that when I began on Of Artists And Assassins, but sometimes fate decides to make things work in one’s favour.
They coupled again at some point during the early morning. Ezio woke to curious. questing fingers trailing over the growing number of scars on his back; and he had pulled an apologetic but willing Leonardo on top of himself in return. Dry seed and old oil had presented an interesting counterpoint to the sensations of flesh against flesh, and, really, the assassin would have been embarrassed by how quickly he found his release, had his attention not fully been on stroking and petting and caressing until the other shuddered and added to the mess between them.
Giddy and sated, Ezio reacted too slowly to prevent the artist from rolling out of the warm bed and retrieving a wet cloth to clean them both with - though he did manage to stave off sleep long enough to insist that Leonardo joined him again. Once again curled up around a warm body, sleep quickly reclaimed the assassin’s otherwise well-honed mind.
When he woke again, the sun had risen, and Ezio was disappointed to find that the bed was empty. That the clothes over the back of the chair were missing. And, which caused his stomach to knot painfully over the simple domesticity, his clothes had been picked up from the floor and neatly folded, bracers and sword on top. A basin of water waited for him, clean cloth by its side, and he was certain that he could smell toasted bread wafting up from the downstairs workshop.
It took him a short while - sitting at the edge of the bed, savouring the ache in his loins and the bruises on his neck, and trying not to grin like an idiot - to realise that he felt happy. For the first time since Cristina had yelled at him and plainly told him that he had missed any chance he could have had with her, and that she never wished to see him again. A strange feeling, he concluded, when that memory was no longer accompanied by quite the same heartbreak as earlier.
After washing and dressing - spending far too long, really, on tightening and adjusting the multitude of buckles in an unhurried way that he had not had the luxury of in several years - and strapping on the considerable arsenal of weapons he owned, the now fully-dressed assassin made his way downstairs. Leaving the bedroom where both of their barriers had been broken down, and left the two men with something… new. Ezio was still unsure of what to call it, but, he knew, it was something he had every intention of holding onto, by any means available to him.
Of course the workshop was still eerily clean. But Leonardo seemed to have had a flash of inspiration over the course of the night or morning, and Ezio was happy to see that one only-just-begun painting; four sketches of birds and one of some kind of giant crossbow; one half-constructed model; three glass jars with unmentionable and possibly flammable liquids; and half a dozen screws and springs now decorated various surfaces around the workshop. Slowly, but steadily, Leonardo’s tendency to begin projects had started to turn the place into something that had a cozy familiarity to its chaos.
And within the kitchen, Leonardo was puttering about in trousers and tunic, with only a pair of loose shoes protecting his feet from the cold stone floor. The table, cleared of what had remained of their dinner, had instead been laid out with breakfast, and warm tea steamed from the cups.
“Good morning, mio amore,” Ezio said with a grin, leaning against the door frame.
“Toast’s gone cold, sorry,” Leonardo said, gesturing momentarily with a skillet, and very nearly sent the sliced turnips within into the fire, although his smile was broad and happy and just a bit nervous, as if the assassin would up and vanish at any moment.
“I think I’ll survive,” Ezio replied, walking over to give a kiss to his new lover, and found that, yes, he could most definitely get used to this peaceful life.
Of Artists and Assassins - Italian-English phrasebook and postscriptum
(Anonymous) 2013-10-10 08:00 pm (UTC)(link)Buon giorno - Good day
Mio amico - My friend
La mia casa è la tua - Make yourself at home (Lit: My house is yours)
Mi dispiace - My apologies
Solí - Alone
In pace - In peace
Cazzo di idiota - Fucking idiot
Buon compleanno - Happy birthday
Grazie - Thank you
Ti amo - I love you
La Rosa - The Rose
Fratelli Auditore - (the) Brothers Auditore
Il Assassino - The Assassin
Postumi di sbornia - Hangover (lit: After-drinking effect)
Chiodo scaccia chiodo - Hair of the dog (lit: Nail against nail)
Caro mio - My dear
La bella Italia - Beautiful Italy
Bottega - Shop
Lussuriosi - Lustful
Corrompere i giovani - Corrupting the youth
Spalliera - Headboard (of a bed)
Va bene - That’s fine
Pene - Penis
Per favore - Please
Voglio che mi scopi - I want you to fuck me
Magnifico - Magnificent
Troppi - Too many
Bello - Beautiful
Parlare di meno - Less talk
Scoparmi - Fuck me
Mio amore - My love
What happens after this, you may ask? Well, the prompt was only for sex; the story just wanted a bunch of plot all over itself along with a fluffy enough ending to rot teeth.
My headcanon, however, for the continuation of this story:
Ezio remains as an assassin, of course, despite his desire here for a peaceful, uneventful life. One year after this, in 1485, he uses the flying machine to infiltrate the Palazzo Ducale in a mad dash to try and save the Doge (a failed mission). That caused him to become a wanted man, and forcing him to flee Venice for a year. In 1486, he returns, only to find that Leonardo and Antonio have apparently struck up something in the interim - much to Ezio's amusement.
In 1488, Leonardo first examined the Apple, before Ezio lost it during the seige of Forlí - and the two were apart until 1492, where Ezio lost track of the Apple in Spain, and returned to Italy, where he continued the hunt for the Apple until 1498, where he had Cristina die in his arms. That event drove a permanent stake between Leonardo and Ezio, as Ezio could not bear to keep anyone near to his heart out of fear of losing them.
A fear that came true in 1499, the mere year after, when Cesare kidnapped Leonardo without Ezio even realising. In fact, Ezio only learned of this in 1502 - which... frankly did not help much on what little remained of the spark between them. The friendship, however, persisted kidnappings and beatings and Salai, and Leonardo continued to construct weapons and tools for the Assassin Order - though he refused the offer to be initiated in the Order. Ezio returned from Turkey in 1512 with Sofia, and Leonardo took the oppertunity to move to France. Both to retire, and to leave his old friend and love to raise a family without any old inventors hanging around to be a distraction. Ezio retires fully from the Assassin Order, instead focusing his time on Sofia and their two children, and on tending to his wineyard
The two met one final time in France, where Ezio came to bid his final farewells, and they shared one last kiss. And, on May 2nd, 1519, Leonardo passed away, joking that Ezio would only be a few years behind him, as the assassin had always been.
In 1524, the prediction turns true, when Ezio sits upon a bench in Florence for a rest while out with Sofia and their two children. And passes away, having at last had the peaceful life and unbloody death he had longed for for so long.
Re: Of Artists and Assassins - Italian-English phrasebook and postscriptum
(Anonymous) 2013-10-11 06:47 am (UTC)(link)Have you filled anything else around here? Because I would love to read more of your stuff if it's available.
Re: Of Artists and Assassins - A!A
(Anonymous) 2013-10-11 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)But, A!A will definitely be around to fill more prompts.
Right now, they're just happy that OP likes the fill. :D
OP! Is more than happy with the fill!
(Anonymous) 2013-10-12 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)Re: OP! Is more than happy with the fill!
(Anonymous) 2013-10-13 07:17 pm (UTC)(link)