Hello fellow Ezio lovers! Haha gosh I have already had two reviews (Big shout out/thanks to Dark Vienna & LoneWolfOfAForgottenForest for being my first reviewers), and they both want some EZIO SEXY TIME! Guys, I want it just as bad as you guys do... but they are a tad bit young for sexiness -_- BUT for you guys I have found a loop hole ;) Though it won't be what you expect :D MWAHAHAHAHA
That's coming up in the next chappy, when we meet little Ezio! *crowd goes wild* Yes, yes, our famed sex god assassin finally makes his apperance in the next chapter, which will hopefully get updated tonight!
Anyway I kinda totally changed this chapter around fro its original state and added another character (who you won't see for a while). But I don't want to give anything away :o so READ!
P.S. I don't own Assassin's Creed yada, yada, yada.
About a week and a half passed before we heard back from Giovanni, and things were quite hectic during that time. My mother spent most of it packing up every little crevice of the house and disposing of the "sleeping" bodies that littered our living quarters. Of course, even at that age I knew that no man slept with his head chopped off.
When I asked my mother why she was disposing of so many things, she simply mumbled "They can't know where we're going, and they can't know where we've been…"
Whatever that means.
Since I wasn't much help to my mother with the whole packing thing, in the mornings, I often tagged along into town with my father to check the pigeon coops, so the whole family was up pretty early.
One particular morning I will never forget.
"Svegliarsi bambini (Wake up little one)." My father gently mussed me awake.
The golden sun peacefully began to rise over the lush green fields of San Gimignano, bathing the earth in a soft angelic light, as it usually did.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes, while squirming around a bit to get my small limbs stretched out for the day. My father smiled at me, as I let out a small squeal; he then pecked my forehead quickly, and ushered me out of the warmness of my sheets.
We made our way out into the living area, where we found my mother sitting in a rocking chair with little Emiliana wrapped in blankets. By the darkness around her eyes, and the way she faded in and out of conciseness, I could tell she hadn't gotten much sleep last night.
"Buon giorno il mio amore (Good morning my love)." My father purred to my mother, as he sauntered up to her and planted a loving kiss on her cheek. He then picked up my sister in his arms and carried her out of the other room- to feed her or something.
My mother watched him leave the room with her blood shot eyes. When he was out of sight, she mumbled something angrily to her self, and subconsciously let out a burdened sigh.
I wasn't sure what real beauty was yet, but she looked like something out of a story tale: Her long dark hair swept just below her bosom, and her sharp bone structure complemented her thin, straight, cupid- bow lips which emitted a soft pinkish glow. Her eyes- though heavy and blood shot- were a beautiful deep blue.
I stood there watching her, my undeveloped mind wondering what exactly was going through her thoughts.
I continued to study my mother, until I felt a stirring in my nose, and then…
"AH-CHOO!" I sneezed loudly, nearly causing my entire young body to flip over in response.
My mother snapped up from her thoughts and made eye contact with me before her own orbs perched into happiness and she sprung into a fit of chuckles.
"Mio Dio (My God)!" My mother exclaimed between her giggles, "You scared the heaven out of me Gabriella!"
I began my own giggles as I waddled into her open arms and she swopped me up into a warm embrace.
"Mama?" I asked softly.
"Sì il mio baby (Yes my baby)?"
"Why do the uomo cattivo (bad men) want to hurt us?"
My mom looked pointedly at the direction of where my father had left the room, before answering, "You are too young to understand."
I frowned at the answer, but did press any further, instead I asked, "What is a, um… an assassum?" Unfortunately, I couldn't remember the exact word.
This earned a chuckle from my mother, but quickly her face turned serious.
She sternly questioned me, "Where did you hear that word from? Who said that?"
"Papa…" I thought for a moment before continuing my answering, "And you, mama."
"I would never say such a thing in front of you!"
"But you did."
"When?"
"That night, the mean man came. You said 'Quei dannati assassini possono andare all'infer- (Those damned assassins can go to he-) "
"Approvare, approvare (Okay, okay)! Let us not repeat such foul words…"
"Well what does it mean then?"
"What does what mean?" She was beginning to get frustrated.
"The word I told you! Um… Assasum!"
She sighed "You are too young to understand."
"You can not answer that for every question I ask!" I argued, folding my arms to my chest and turning away from her.
She sighed once more and stroked my hair. I turned ever so slightly so I could see her face from the side of my eye; I saw a face full of stress and worry. This instantly melted the small grudge I was holding against her, and I turned my body back into her embrace. She complied and continued to nuzzle me in her arms.
After moments of silence, my mother finally spoke up, "Ah caro mio (my darling), you shall learn in time." She looked me in the eyes, "I promise."
I peaked out the window of the caravan carriage, mentally saying one last good bye to the one place I knew as "home". Then I turned back around in my seat and leaned my head against my father, who in response put a large, comforting arm around me.
I glanced around the rather petite carriage that would be taking us to Firenze (Florence). There were so many odd faces and it all seemed almost… frightening.
One woman sparked my interest in particular: Across from me sat a brittle looking old lady; she sat there doing nothing but petting a bundle of silvery wool, and occasionally, glancing accusingly at the people around her, as if they were going to snatch the wool right from her arms. She wore tattered fingerless gloves, and a ragged dress that seemed to be faded from years of toil. Her silvery-gray hair (a much lighter shade than the wool) was pulled back and accented with a rugged looking bonnet. But what puzzled me most was her shoes. They sat proudly on her feet without a single scratch or smudge; they almost glowed.
About half way through the trip, the carriage stopped so people could stretch, relieve themselves, or do anything else they needed to do. I took this as an opportunity to converse with the old lady with the wool.
I was told by my parents not to talk to strange people, but of course, my curiosity got the best of me.
I craned my head upward to try and find the old lady's slouched figure and ancient face, but with no luck. So instead, I watched peoples feet; waiting for the old lady's shoes to glint against the afternoon light.
Eventually, my eye caught the glint of something, and my little feet pattered themselves to the source of the shine.
I found myself approaching her hunched figure huddled behind the carriage, away from everyone, petting away at the wool.
I took a hesitant step toward her without her notice. And then another, and another, and another, until I could see every detail of her face.
"Her name is Mila." She spoke to me without looking up.
"Who's name?" I asked softly, question filling my voice.
"My dog," She gestured to the bundle of wool she was petting, "isn't that why you came here? To pet my dog?"
I didn't understand. That wasn't a dog, She was crazy!
Instead of insulting I simply responded, "No."
Her body tensed up and her back straightened up; she dropped the wool and her head snapped toward me. She then began slowly approaching me with hate filled eyes.
"Then you are one of them aren't you?" she clenched her fist and a blade manifested from her wrist, "Are you here to take all I have left? The clothes on my back and the fight n my heart?" Her voice began to rise, "Well let me tell you now, you demon templars, I am not going down without a damn fight!" She lunged herself at me her blade risen high.
My eyes widen and my heart quickened- as if I was a small animal, awaiting my final breathe.
And then she stopped; her weapon only a pin's length away from my face. Her blade retracted and she stepped away.
Her shoulders slumped once more, and then without looking at me she asked, "Well, you have a question don't you? Ask it."
I cowered away meekly and attempted to speak, "I-I just wanted to know…"
"Know what?" She spat, facing me once more, narrowing her poisoned, beady eyes at me.
"Your… Your shoes, why are they so pretty, when the rest of you is not?"
Her defenses weakened and she looked at me sadly.
There were many moments of silence before finally she spoke the answer to my question, "I don't have much," she began, "but I do have my feet to walk on, so it'd be in my best interest to take care of them." She pointed at the shoes, "The nicest pair of boots I could find." She smiled admiringly at them.
"These help me run, run away from my past…" Her anger returned, "The angelo dall'inferno (angel from hell) took everything from me. If I could just remember… just remember his face..." A spark of reigniting appeared in her eyes, and she gasped.
She stepped towards the woods.
"Nothing is true." she rehearsed and took another step towards the woods.
"Everything is permitted." She finshed.
And with the final verse to the unfamiliar phrase, she went into a full sprint- that I wasn't aware she was capable of- towards the woods and disappeared out of my site.
I cocked my head a bit left, trying to process what had just happened, but I couldn't seem to figure it out.
But my thoughts were interrupted by the call of my name to board back on the carriage, and so I obeyed.
"What happen to that vecchia strega (old hag)?" My mother asked once we were back on the carriage.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted." I whispered to myself.
My mother's face fell into a state of shock when she heard the words.
"What did you just say?" She hissed.
I simply just shook my head and looked toward the woods, and in the distance I could see her, as high as the trees, watching the carriage, before diving into the abyss of the brush.
Hope you guys all enjoyed my crazy old lady ;) I am actually not sure where she came from...
Crazy Old Lady: Las Vegas!
WordsForFlowers: Ah... That explains it. Thanks for clarifyng that Old Hag!
*Hag gallops away on a flying banana*
Yeah... Some of you will probably read the chapter and be like "WTF!1! wut doez a oLd ldy haz 2 dew wit n/e ting?" LOL weird talking ftw:) But really, some of you probably are wondering why this lady is important. I can't exactly tell you that because it'll give too much away, but here is some background info on her:
Well from the text, she is obvious and ex-assassin, and she has had everything taken from her by the Templars. She has to keep running from her past, and so shoes are important to her- hence the shiney shoes. She's a bit on the crazy side, and so she thinks that the wool is a dog that she used to have. When she sees Gabriella, something clicks in her brain, and she becomes a full blown killer again.
Don't worry, you'll see her again;) Haha anyway thanks so much for the alerts, and reviews, and reading and all that! Hope you'll keep reading! Oh yeah and since Dark Vienna was my first reviewer AND alerter-er (?) I am dedicating the chapter to them! THANKS AGAIN EVERYONE