#tener0m0rte

[eaglemachines-blog]

Childplay

He was going to lose it. He swear, if he didn't do anything at all within the hour, he was going to lose it.

The last few days had been somewhat hell for Leonardo, not doing anything productive with his time. His hands weren't much good to work with, painting or writing or pretty much anything else. And he wasn't looking exacly forward to stroll outside, not only because of those bad memories from outside, but because it had been rainning frequently this week. So no pleasant walks around the city for him. And reading, books or his computer, always ended him with a blurry vision and a very upsetting headache.

Lying around all day, somehwat sulking in his bed over his wounded body, wasn't exactly productive. But it was the only thing he could do with minimun stress and pain. And it was boring him beyond belief. Ezio's visits were the only thing in the new routine he actually enjoyed. It gave him something to focus on, and the younger man's company was always welcome, as it had always been.

He tossed on his bed, grunting into his pillow. He had to do something, anything. His mind was frantic, never stopping, never resting. It was normal for him, all those thoughts and ideas hopping around in his head, but ignoring it was proving to be the biggest challenge in his life. And was giving him a growing headache. Great.

He got out of bed, throwing a zipper jacket over his shoulders and walking out of his bedroom, not needing to flinch away from the light, since basically all the curtains in the house were closed. He glanced around, thinking, and saw a clear canvas with a few paint pots close by. An idea hit him.

Screwing the lids open and lying the canvas over a large cloth, he dipped a finger in the paint, shok the excess off and traced a line over the white background.

His teachers would probably bite his head off for daring to do this with oil paint. Hell, he would bite his own head off for that. But right now, he just cared that he was doing something. That was all.

He dipped another finger for a new color, lazily stroking random lines and desgins, sighing happily for the distraction. A small smile slid on his lips as he continued painting, and laughed when he remembered happier, simpler days when he was a child in kindergarten. Even back then he had a talent for art, and a few tricks he learned back then for fingerpainting came back to him from those days.

[eaglemachines-blog]

Awake

Leonardo blinked himself awake slowly, getting back into full consciousness with somewhat difficult. Stupid headache was back on full force, and it made it all so disorientatin, he could barely hold a single thought for a few seconds before letting slip away. He needed painkiller, urgently.

He was about to turn and get them when he realized he wasn't alone. Or rather, remembered. The night before came back to him slowly, and he smiled to himself despite his pain, shifting carefully to look at the other in his arms. Ezio was curled in one side of the bed, his loose hair slightly tangled over his face. Leonardo stretched out a hand and brushed a few strands off his face, his smile growing wider.

It wasn't the first time he had seen Ezio sleep, but this time, he seemed to be actually relaxed, not tense from sleeping on his couch or one of his chairs, ready to spring up into fight or flight mode at the smallest hint of trouble. It pained the artist to see his friend so wired, but it was also good to know he was now truly confortable near him to actually loosen up, to let himself rest. It meant the other really trusted him.

He was nearl grinning before a wave of pain crashed over his head, and he had to hold back a flinch from it. He was strong and could stand a lot of pain, but this was just ridiculous. Never did he had such a migraine, and of all his injuries, it was by far the worst of them. His black eye didn't even compare to it.

Gulping down a groan, he noticed there was a problem: ezio was between him and the nightstand where his pills were. The blond would have rolled his eyes if that didn't make the pain worse, and tried to figure out a way around this, seeing on his other side was the room's wall. Slowly, not to wake the other, he tried to go over the sleeping man. In his mind, he would have tossed a leg at the wooden frame of the bed, another to the ground, his hands supporting his weight on the headboard. In reality, there was a sudden vertigo that made his knees fail and he lost his balance, sending his toppling over to the ground with a grunt and the noise of something heavy on wooden floor.

Apparently, despite all his bad luck, there was still some mercy in whoever was pulling the strings up there, because he didn't land on his head, nor did it hit anything. He did fall on his right hand in a weird angle - it hurt, but didn't dislocate or break - and on his bruised side. Also, the impact made his head spin way too much, and he felt a terrible nausea. He didn't doubt he would have vomited, except he didn't have anything to vomit. It had been a while since he last ate, after all. Still, the whole thing was sickening.

He curled up by the night stand, trying to stand up before he really did vomit, a hand over his mouth, the other feeling around the top of the nightstand for the medicine. Some way to start the morning.

[eaglemachines-blog]

Trouble in double

It was cold that day, and clearly going to rain. Leonardo just wanted to stay inside and just be warm and cozy on his bed and not do anything productive that day. But fate wouldn't leave his wave of bad luck with just the beating of his life. Oh, no, it had to also time it close to the day he'd have to do grocery shopping.

He had completely forgotten about it, and only realized it when he had went to have breakfast. Of course he was out of anything edible. Of course he'd have to go out in the cold and damp day to buy more food. As if he wasn't hurting enough as it was, the chilly breeze of the rain stinging on his face making it all worse. Leonardo just put on a hoodie, boots and a long raincoat and went out, only taking his phone and cash.

He was feeling terrible, mostly due to having spent the night on the cold bathroom tiles. Where he wasn't stiff, he was sore, and where he wasn't sore, it was just pain. But he didn't complain. He had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. As usual. But he didn't complain.

He had taken a couple pain killers and showered, taking his time to further clean his wounds and only leaving when the water started to turn cold. Bandaging his hands again and acessing how the other injuries had progressed. He was covered in huge purple marks, his lip and nose a bit swollen, but not as much as his black eye. That one was just nasty. He could barely open it up fully, the dark color spreading only a bit to his cheekbone. That guy had one mean right punch, he had to give him that.

He gulped a bit, knowing no amount of make up could possibly mask that without making it painfully obvious he was hiding something. He didn't even bothered to try.

His headache had faded, but still throbbed where he had been struck, and he felt sensitive bumps on his skull on said places when he went to examine those. Those were what torubled him most, but otherwise he decided there was no need for a hospital. Too many questions he didn't want to answer. Plus, it would probably include the police, and he didn't want that. What if they connected him to Altair's emprisonment and got suspicious? He couldn't afford that. He would never put the brothers into any kind of danger, if he could help it.

The Italian had pulled the raincoat's collar up and threw his hair slightly over his bad eye, sheltering his face even if a little from the occasional glares. Of course people noticed, who wouldn't? Not that it helped his situation; he felt humiliated enough as it was. With a sigh, he kept on walking. The store wasn't all that far, and it was the complete opposit direction of the alleyway, so there was at least one pro. Even if he had no idea how to carry the groceries back, seeing the state of his hands. One con. This was going nowhere.

"Dear whoever is up there, please stop doing this to me?" He muttered under his breath, turning his head down to further try and hide his face, and kept on walking.

[eaglemachines-blog]

Oblivious

Great. Now Ezio was talking the blame for something that wasn’t really his fault. It was Leonardo’s fault. It wasn’t just the other being dense, it was the artist’s fault for holding back the truth from the other. He simply listened at the other’s apologies, chancing a look at his friend when he felt a conforting hand on his shoulders. A few strands of dirty blond hair slid over his face, shielding his tired, sad eyes. The worried frown on Ezio’s features made him shudder. It was his fault this whole ordeal happened. And now, he just watched the other retreate to his door, leaving. Leaving. Leonardo felt terrible. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He could find no excuse for his behaviour a few minutes ago. He was never one to lose his temper like that. He let out a pained breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he watched his dear friend walk away. No. He couldn’t leave it at that. He wasn’t telling the truth to keep his friend from uneeded stress, and now he had done just that. To protect him from grief, he gave him grief. That wasn’t right. He had to fix that. “Wait!! Ezio, wait! Please! Wait!” He shouted, hurrying to the door, catching the man still striding off the corridor. Leonardo collided with the other’s back and held him fast, his arms around the other man’s waist, as if he was going to dissappear if he let him go. “Wait… I-I’m sorry, amico mio. Non so cosa mi sia preso. Mi dispiace tanto. Non volevo farti arrabbiare, non volevo farti triste. We have had so much to worry about, to think about these days, I couldn’t add more to it for you, I just— ” He tightened the embrace on the other, his cheek between the Italian’s shoulderblades. “I can’t tell you. Not yet. You’re not ready to hear the truth yet. I’m not ready to tell you the truth yet.” He let go, trying to pull out a smile. It was small and weak, but his eyes spoke far more. With a sigh, he leaned forward and kissed the other’s cheek, his lips touching lightly the corner of the other’s own. “But I will tell you. When you’re ready.” He spoke calmly, backing away from the other, and going back to his apartment, feeling self-conscious and sheepish for his actions each passing second. Leonardo quickly scurried back to his apartment, shutting the door behind him quietly. Did he really just…

[eaglemachines-blog]

plot-things (ooc post)

hey guys, this is probably a silly thing, but i just wanted to clarify a few points on the AU, if you would bare with me… Ezio and Altair are part of the brotherhood, or are they just hitmen? like, does the assassin brotherhood even exist in the AU? Abstergo? if so, do they follow the creed and tenets and such? how do they affect the AU, if at all?

[flyinginkpots-blog]

You're in for It

Malik actually hated the subway. It was why he lived close to school. But it was the middle of the day and the streets were jammed with cars, busses, city busses, taxis, and cop cars. Not for the first time he told himself to get a bike, Kadar had one and apparently it was awesome for getting around his city of choice quickly. Malik saw bikes in New York City streets, but most of the places he went he could walk to, or a bike would draw suspicion.

So the subway was a required evil to get to Altair and Ezio's place. At least they were close to a station and Malik didn't have to take a bus too. He would steadfastly refuse to see them ever if he had to take the bus. But he didn't. He got off the train, up the stairs to the street and then it was only a block or so to their place.

He rang the building's front door bell several times to get their attention. He knew sometimes they just buzzed open the door, other times they interrogated the person who wanted to come in, or other times, they'd come to the front door and make faces at their guests through the glass. 

[eaglemachines-blog]

Unlocking the birdcage

Ezio's visit sure lifted up the Leonardo's mood, to the point he actually managed to finish up a commission after the other left. Quite a feat, considering his procrastinating habits. Soon after he went for a shower, thinking of getting rid of all the paint that he always managed to get all over himself. He didn't hear his phone ring, nor noticed the new voice mail before finishing with his bath and eaten an apple. It took him a moment to let the news sink in, and part of him was glad that he was near the couch, else he would have landed on the ground. By all that is holy, how could this happen?! Well, how was pretty obvious, Altair had mentioned that complication on his last contract, but he didn't think it would have gone this far. Ezio said on the message not to worry, but how could he not? Taking a moment to set his mind back on tracks, he took the phone and tried to call Ezio... Busy line. He muttered a curse under his breath and decided to try again later. He must be busy trying to get his brother out of jail, no doubt. Talking about it, how would they pay the fine? Not berating the brothers, they had their ways to bust out from difficult situations, jail included, should they need to. But something told him that, given the circumstances, they wouldn't make enough money to get Altair out. A sigh escaping his lips, he put on a coat, taking his wallet and phone, and made his way to the bank. He knew they would refuse his help, but he wouldn't take no for an answer either. The man took what he guessed was enough money and went to find the boys' house. He made a second try to call Ezio, but this time, he left a message. "I'm sorry, amico, but I couldn't follow your request. I worry. And I should have told you about the whole situation, since I was aware of Altair's problem. Mi dispiace. I wish to help, and I'm already on my way to your home... Please don't try anything harsh yet." He knew Altair was the most brash of the brothers, but both were headstrong and rather impatient, and he couldn't help but jump to the worst conclusions. At times like these the older man realized how much of a burden an overactive mind was. He took a few steadying deep breaths before hurrying his pace.