Desmond watched warily through the metal frame, trying to get it through his mind that he was in fact looking at the Florentine assassin, his eyes unable to look away from the robes that he knew all too well. It was as if he were trying to find an imperfection of sorts to help prove that this was some kind of sick joke. Within the machine though, the male was still groaning, feeling as if he'd been run over by two horses. His head and body ached in unfathomable pain from the fall he'd taken earlier, trying to recall what happened while pushing himself up from the odd flooring. His eyes were still closed but with his un-gloved hand, it felt cold, sooth and of an odd substance. It almost reminded him of the armor he wore.
The older male tried to think about what he was doing last, going back to when.. He was burning his first Borgia tower. The idea of doing so was so exciting and so exhilarating, even in his later years he felt as if he were eighteen once more. Though he was nearing the age of 40, the man was still in top shape, and looked younger than he truly was. But then again, one would never really question him upon his age if they wanted to try and take an interest in him. With Ezio, Age wasn't an issue.
But yes, he'd just thrown the torch into the lookout of the tower that he'd doused in flames, walking off the perch that had been build upon the structure and performing his well-trusted leap. It was with a laugh that he started downward, headed for the bale of hay down below, awaiting it's soft yet uncomfortable embrace. But as he watched the hay come closer and heard the tower behind him exploding from the inside out, the ground below began to... Dissipate, falling away into a void of white light with gray shaded squares and lines that came from seemingly nowhere. The ground fell into the abyss, his soon-to-be safe-haven included, though the whiteness began to eat at the rest of the world around him.
Terror clung to his expression, noticing that he was still falling past the place where the ground should have been, arms still cast out at his sides. He couldn't figure out what was going on, or where he was anymore. This had to have been a bad dream of sorts, for this couldn't really happen, could it? This was nothing more than an event that his mind was creating. Maybe he had been working too hard lately? He'd only recently gotten bigger missions upon his plate after having taken a small rest. The life of an assassin was never an easy one, after all.
But just as Ezio thought that his fall would never end, he came in contact with a hard, invisible surface, giving a groan as he hit into it with bone-shattering inertia. Pain was quick to course through his body and he laid there for a minute before he heard an odd, female voice, before the white around him began to form his surroundings. Though during the process, he'd closed his eyes, trying to push back the pain that had overtaken him.
The male shifted weakly to sit up finally, opening his eyes to look around as he sat against the metal frame that he was encased within, finally noticing the face of the man across from him. He scowled, a new found wave of unease coming over him, extending his right hand and threatening to pull the blade from its hiding source, starting to look around at the contraption he was in. Why he felt this belonged in Leonardo's workshop was unknown to him, but he thought the blonde male would enjoy whatever this was. It was different, and to Leonardo, different was amazing.
The man shifted to slowly stand up, ignoring how achy his body was. He'd dealt with much worse in more-tense situations, for he noticed that the other had an expression of awe. It almost appeared that he was dumbstruck for some reason, though noticed as the man's lips moved to form words. "You're... I'm mean..." He oddly dressed male uttered, Desmond unsure of what to do or to say. This was real, wasn't it?
"Who are you?" Ezio spoke in his thick Italian accent, using the English that he'd actually learned over the course of his life. It seemed that his ability to speak it when Desmond was within the Animus wasn't solely based upon the program that had been designed to translate any language into English. Desmond listened to the simple question that the assassin asked as he began to regain composure, unsure how to answer that, finding that his voice had vanished from his throat, leaving him with only air and whispers. "Desmond." He said in a hushed tone, starting to slowly calm down. He had to think about this rationally. He had to figure out what to do next.
Ezio listened to the other whisper his name, unsure what to think, scowling deeply as he gathered his own footing and stepped forward, looking around at the metal frame he was in. It reminded him of a jail cell, aside from the odd things that were placed beneath the metal flooring, which were actually lights. He peered back up at Desmond, eyes narrowing beneath his hood. "Templar, release me!" He spat, which earned a confused expression to cross Desmond's features.
"Templar? What, me?" Desmond asked as he pointed to himself though shook his head a little, though now noticed that Ezio had in fact drawn his blade. "A-Ah, calm down." He said, raising his hands in front of himself defensively, looking around warily. "My name is Desmond. I'll get you out of there in a minute." He assured, stepping closer hesitantly before starting to look for the door which looked just like any of the other bars around the machine. "How did I get here?" Ezio demanded to know, hesitant on returning his blade, watching as the oddly-dressed man started to let him out. He had to be prepared for the worst, after all.
"I... I have no idea. I'll explain everything, trust me. I just need a minute to think." He said, brows furrowing a bit as he tried to figure this out. He turned the machine on and got into the Animus. "Oh- You must have been what I saw." He gasped quietly in realization, shaking his head a little. "Ok- That... Well..." He said as he finally found the latch to undo the metallic wall, allowing Ezio a way out. This really was more than he could process alone. He needed help, and he had no one by his side. Thanks, Minerva.
He took a step back as Ezio took a cautious step out of the machine, turning to look at it before taking a look around. It was after looking at the odd equipment that the modern assassin's had left behind that he realized that he was in the Sanctuary of his uncle's Villa. "What..." He asked quietly though in a swift movement turned quickly to Desmond, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pressing his blade to the man's throat. "Answers." Ezio spat warily.
Desmond's eyes grew wide as he felt the metal press against the sensitive skin of his throat, trying not to swallow too hard since that wouldn't end well for him. "I-I.. Calm down. Yeah, I know this was Mario's place." He said, putting his hands up again, watching the man's face, looking into his eyes that were masked by the shadow of his hood. Ezio was confused and scared...
"You, Ezio Auditore, are in the year 2011. My full name is Desmond Miles and I'm an Assassin like you." He said, his words coming out slow so that he could give the man a moment to let the words seep in. "You are an ancestor of mine- A grandfather to some extent. That machine over there allows me to live the past experiences of my Ancestor's to find answers to things that we need. So in that Machine, I experienced a good amount of your life by reliving them as you. And it's with that Machine, the Animus, and the thing you woke up in that you got here. I was left here by my team because they thought I was a traitor, and they weren't able to take it with me. I don't know what that thing is meant to do, but... It brought you here." Desmond explained, his words beginning to quicken the more he spoke, the Italian assassin listening to everything though his features twisted with each word that Desmond spoke.
It didn't make any sense. How could he be in... There was no way for someone to be teleported through time. And how could one go back through the life of someone else? It just didn't add up. So what, this was his future grandson and he was supposedly x-hundred years in the future? Ezio released Desmond and drew in his blade, backing up until he bumped into the statue of Altair that he had looked up to in the past, wishing he was someone who could be so great.
If this was all true, that meant that everyone from his own time. His mother, his sister, his friends, Leonardo.. "And what is the reason it has brought me here, Desmond Miles?" He asked, his voice low and sullen, head bowed as he let everything sink in. Leonardo, if he were here instead of him, might have found this to be an exciting adventure. But to him, this... This was a nightmare.
Desmond watched as the other began to seep in everything, listening to the darkened question, sighing. "I-I have no idea.. Maybe Rebecca and Shaun thought you might be able to help us find the apple quicker, but I guess by the time that they finished this much, we'd already learned that you hid it under the Colosseum.." Desmond explained, only able to think of that as the best reasoning. But why would they have tried to do that when they were already so close?
But it was at this point that Desmond could hear footsteps starting down the steps that led into the sanctuary, his eyes sharpening. He had his blade with his backpack on the other side of the room, so he was left unarmed. And oh, let's not mention a 40-year old Florentine assassin who was currently depression-struck. If someone was to find them, nothing good would come of it. But Desmond paled upon a realization of his. What if... What if it was Warren Vidic coming down the stairs?