At nearly three in the morning, no one was awake and the city was in utter peace. Desmond was almost drooling at how calm it was. It was like none of the outside problems affected this place. There was no such thing as Templars, Assassins or Pieces of Eden. This was city that was content with it's place in life and felt no urge to grow above that.
Desmond eventually found a ladder in a small back alley that led to the roofs. Only wanting to expand his horizons, he instantly crawled up it. With grace and ease he most certainly wasn't born with, he was now traveling across the buildings. He felt a grand rush from his motions. It was the thrill of doing something totally illegal on top of the grand freedom it gave him.
Just as he was starting to think his night was perfect, he stumbled off of one roof into the wide open balcony of another building.
The soft thud of his landing was over shadowed by a small shriek and a clatter.
"Dio mio! Un ladro stupida caduta in casa mia!" A deeply annoyed voice sounded close to Desmond's ear.
The American jerked and pulled himself to his feet in seconds. His side throbbed angrily. He had to pause to lean against the railing. That pause allowed him to look at just whose patio he had disturbed.
Before him a young, blond man with sharp almost elvish features was sitting amongst a pile of paints, brushes and canvases. His blue eyes were narrowed and angry. He was glowering up at Desmond. Had he been a burglar or assassin, for that matter, the man's expression most likely wouldn't have been any different. Actually, if he had to guess, he might look even more furious.
"Chi sei tu? Cosa stai facendo?" The man snapped at him from his position on the floor.
Desmond lifted his hands. "I'm sorry," he said, quickly. He glanced over his shoulder. "I was walking and..." He stopped and shook his head. This man probably didn't understand a word of what he was saying.
His gaze was yanked back to the floor and the man stood up as well. He was skinny and without a lot of muscle, but he held himself with a confidence that said he could, most certainly, kick asses to high heaven and back.
"You speak English?" The man said, with a slight catch to his words.
Desmond nodded quickly.
The blond arched an eyebrow. "Are you lost?" He asked.
Re: Ghosts of Lives Past [2/9]
Desmond eventually found a ladder in a small back alley that led to the roofs. Only wanting to expand his horizons, he instantly crawled up it. With grace and ease he most certainly wasn't born with, he was now traveling across the buildings. He felt a grand rush from his motions. It was the thrill of doing something totally illegal on top of the grand freedom it gave him.
Just as he was starting to think his night was perfect, he stumbled off of one roof into the wide open balcony of another building.
The soft thud of his landing was over shadowed by a small shriek and a clatter.
"Dio mio! Un ladro stupida caduta in casa mia!" A deeply annoyed voice sounded close to Desmond's ear.
The American jerked and pulled himself to his feet in seconds. His side throbbed angrily. He had to pause to lean against the railing. That pause allowed him to look at just whose patio he had disturbed.
Before him a young, blond man with sharp almost elvish features was sitting amongst a pile of paints, brushes and canvases. His blue eyes were narrowed and angry. He was glowering up at Desmond. Had he been a burglar or assassin, for that matter, the man's expression most likely wouldn't have been any different. Actually, if he had to guess, he might look even more furious.
"Chi sei tu? Cosa stai facendo?" The man snapped at him from his position on the floor.
Desmond lifted his hands. "I'm sorry," he said, quickly. He glanced over his shoulder. "I was walking and..." He stopped and shook his head. This man probably didn't understand a word of what he was saying.
His gaze was yanked back to the floor and the man stood up as well. He was skinny and without a lot of muscle, but he held himself with a confidence that said he could, most certainly, kick asses to high heaven and back.
"You speak English?" The man said, with a slight catch to his words.
Desmond nodded quickly.
The blond arched an eyebrow. "Are you lost?" He asked.