He stands outside the car and pulls off his hoodie, tossing it in the back and letting the roan soak his black T-shirt. He knows this place. He's been here hundreds of times before. Rocky cliffs rise before him, cold and slimy. It's going to be tough to climb damp, he realizes with interest. He tosses the keys to the car on top the hood and doesn't bother to lock it before he walks to the bottom of the cliffs.
The first few handholds are easy to find; a dozen feet up, it becomes harder. The crevices are wet, and even with the gloves, his hands don't want to grip the stone properly. He compensates by swinging himself up to the next handhold before his grip on the previous hold slips; it's dangerous, but it's not like he can actually get hurt. But the rush is heady, his body shivering with adrenalin and cold. When he reaches the first landing, he puts his hands on his knees, panting happily.
It takes him a coupe hours to get to the top. When he does, he stares out at a view he's seen too often before, a gray-blue lake with its surface shimmering with rain. Sighing, he begins the descent down – by leaping off the cliff. Several hundred feet down, he hits the ground and rolls, and it doesn't hurt a bit. Brushing himself off, he looks up, and jerks in surprise.
“What the hell?” the hooded guy says.
Sedici blinks at him, because, huh. He wasn't expecting this. There's a motorcycle next to his car again, and Hooded Guy is sitting on the motorcycle, soaked to the bone. Except now the hood is pulled back, revealing short-cropped brown hair and features strong enough to belong to a model. He's got a scar on his lips, just like Ezio, and rain is dripping down his chin and he squints in a way that is surprisingly attractive.
“Oh,” Sedici says, and, “Hey.” And he feels like asking Hooded Guy who he is, because he's never met this person before, but he knows it would be pointless; people here are whoever Sedici wants them to be.
“What's going on?” Hooded Guy asks him.
Sedici stares at him for a moment, considering all the ways this could go. Then he walks over to his car and picks up his keys, gesturing for Hooded Guy to follow him. “Come with me,” he says. Hooded Guy hesitates, but fuck, there's nowhere else for him to go, and he's got nothing else to do. Sedici is the only other person in the world right now.
“What about my motorcycle?” he asks.
“Don't worry about it. What's your name?” Sedici asks distractedly as Hooded Guy gets into the passenger seat of what is now a Lexus.
Ghost in the Machine 1b/6
The first few handholds are easy to find; a dozen feet up, it becomes harder. The crevices are wet, and even with the gloves, his hands don't want to grip the stone properly. He compensates by swinging himself up to the next handhold before his grip on the previous hold slips; it's dangerous, but it's not like he can actually get hurt. But the rush is heady, his body shivering with adrenalin and cold. When he reaches the first landing, he puts his hands on his knees, panting happily.
It takes him a coupe hours to get to the top. When he does, he stares out at a view he's seen too often before, a gray-blue lake with its surface shimmering with rain. Sighing, he begins the descent down – by leaping off the cliff. Several hundred feet down, he hits the ground and rolls, and it doesn't hurt a bit. Brushing himself off, he looks up, and jerks in surprise.
“What the hell?” the hooded guy says.
Sedici blinks at him, because, huh. He wasn't expecting this. There's a motorcycle next to his car again, and Hooded Guy is sitting on the motorcycle, soaked to the bone. Except now the hood is pulled back, revealing short-cropped brown hair and features strong enough to belong to a model. He's got a scar on his lips, just like Ezio, and rain is dripping down his chin and he squints in a way that is surprisingly attractive.
“Oh,” Sedici says, and, “Hey.” And he feels like asking Hooded Guy who he is, because he's never met this person before, but he knows it would be pointless; people here are whoever Sedici wants them to be.
“What's going on?” Hooded Guy asks him.
Sedici stares at him for a moment, considering all the ways this could go. Then he walks over to his car and picks up his keys, gesturing for Hooded Guy to follow him. “Come with me,” he says. Hooded Guy hesitates, but fuck, there's nowhere else for him to go, and he's got nothing else to do. Sedici is the only other person in the world right now.
“What about my motorcycle?” he asks.
“Don't worry about it. What's your name?” Sedici asks distractedly as Hooded Guy gets into the passenger seat of what is now a Lexus.
“Desmond,” Hooded Guy says.
Desmond, Sedici thinks. Huh.