A review on a story about Leonardo and Ezio gave me this idea. Anything more need to be said? Also, sorry for the shortness, I promise the next few chapters will be longer. Not really sure exactly where I'm going to go with this, but hopefully wherever I'm going will be good.
. . .
As the Venezia tour guide walked away to attend to other business, Leonardo turned to face his friend. The assassin looked back at the artist from underneath the white hood in puzzlement. Despite what the outfit represented, Leonardo's heart warmed at the sight of his best friend. The artist opened his arms out to Ezio, waiting. The latter blatantly ignored the gesture, instead saying, "I must be on my way. I will see you later."
"Oh," Leonardo replied, his smile faltering in disappointment for a split second. He quickly regained himself and continued, "Of- of course, il mio buon amico. You have work to do, and so do I." Ezio merely turned around and scurried away, swiftly scrambling up the side of a building to the rooftop- right before an archer on patrol started shouting at him. The shouting was caught off abruptly. No doubt the archer found one of Ezio's throwing knives lodged in his throat. Leonardo lingered a moment longer, then went inside his new home. The artist looked around the room and let out a small sigh. It didn't truly feel like his old home in Firenze.
While the architects did pay spectacular attention to detail, there were still things that they overlooked. Small things, things that most people wouldn't notice. Back in Firenze, there was a small crack in the wall in a corner. The wooden floor was a darker shade there than it was here. The bookcase that was set against the wall was slightly off-centre.
Despite these miniscule differences, Leonardo was grateful for the work they did. He was lucky to have a roof over his head in the first place, however not home it may be.
Then his thoughts turned back to his friend. It made Leonardo's heart sink in disappointment to see happiness devoid from Ezio's eyes. When he first met the man, Ezio was merely a boy. Bright, happy, and very, very popular with ladies. Leonardo thought he saw some of himself in the boy, some of that energy, that need to change the world. Now he saw only coldness in the man's eyes, a coldness that came from his work as an assassin.
It was almost poetic, if in a cruel manner.
Ezio was changing the world, but in a way that tore away the wounded shreds of his soul. And it could only make Leonardo wonder- how much of Ezio's soul was left. In that one moment earlier that day, when Leonardo had turned to Ezio for a hug, when he saw the lack of emotion in the man's eyes... he knew.
The boy he met in Firenze was gone forever.
It was many hours later- when Leonardo was dressed in his night clothes, all ready for bed- when he heard a loud, firm knock on his door. Sighing tiredly, the artist made his way to the door. When he opened it, he smiled at his visitor. However, said smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ezio! So good to see you. What brings you here so late, amico mio?"
Ezio lifted up the scroll in his hand and Leonardo's mood brightened considerably at the thought of a new puzzle to solve. "Oh, another! Che emozione!" The artist quickly snatched the scroll from his friend- were they still friends, even if Ezio changed so much?- and took it to the table. He shoved the many papers and unfinished paintings- that he really needed to get done- off the table and opened the scroll. Leonardo glanced up at Ezio, who was still standing there. "Was there something else, Ezio?"
"No, except to tell you to expect some visitors in the morning," Ezio replied coldly. "I met some thieves earlier this evening, and they are after the same thing that I am. Their leader is a man named Antonio. I'm sure he will be here in the morning with some of his colleagues. They have much to discuss with you."
Leonardo nodded in reply. "Of course, anything for you, mio caro Ezio."
Ezio didn't respond, instead turning away and walking outside, the door shutting silently behind him. Like a phantom in the night, it was like Ezio was never here. The only evidence of his brief presence was the Codex on Leonardo's desk. The artist sighed for the hundredth time that day, wondering what would become of his friendship with the assassin.
"So che non ti perderò, amico mio... perché sei già andato."
. . .
Alrighty, translation! Hopefully it's accurate, because I did use an online translator for this...
Amico mio- my friend
Che emozione- how exciting
il mio buon amico- my good friend
Mio caro- my dear
So che non ti perderò, amico mio... perché sei già andato- I know I'm not going to lose you, my friend... because are you already gone