castleinthemist | :'( poor baby

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:'( poor baby

Most of the time, having a husband who is also an Assassin is surprisingly quaint. Duty calls, as with any other job, but the risk of injury is no higher than it would be for a mercenary, or a soldier. It is there, but the skilled can deftly avoid it. At the end of the day, an Assassin provides for his family, comes home to his wife, and has interesting stories to regale his wife with. No, in that respect, Sofia would never choose another profession for her man.

Other times, though, it is the worst heartache a wife could imagine. There's always the risk of an Assassin husband simply never coming home, and never knowing what transpired. There's the risk of capture, of executions and hangings. There is the risk of injury from a situation far beyond the Assassin's control.

This, Sofia considers, is one of those moments. In those moments, all she can do is make the best of things and make sure they don't get worse.

The beds in this castle are barely padded enough to be comfortable, without the luxuries they would have been afforded anywhere else. As such, she's stripped the bedding off of some of the empty beds and carried it to Ezio's, so that his will be thicker with blankets and better padded. If he's going to be laid up in bed recovering, she insists that he be as comfortable as possible.

She'll take care of him, the same way he'd take care of her.

"How are you feeling, Ezio?" she asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Poor darling.

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For all intents and purposes, he had never imagined to return here, in such bad shape and in need of aid. As with all assassins, he was careful, but he had not expected the ambush on the villa. No one did, how could they? Now, his uncle was dead, the other assassins scattered, and he was without anything except his hidden blade and a sword.

But being here now, he had time to collect his thoughts. That was at least a comfort among his recovery. But there was only so much he could do here, versus back home.

However, his attention is drawn towards Sofia when she speaks, the slightest hint of a smile seeping through the corners of his mouth.

"Bene, I think I will manage." For once, he doesn't mind her taking care of him, though if she pampers too much, he's going to try to get things for himself. Curse his gentleman ways.

"It takes a courageous man to just manage a bullet wound," she replies, with a smile. Her tone gets a touch playful when she continues. She'll humour him, cover up her worries so that he doesn't have to worry about her. "That, or a stubborn one."

She glances over the bandages. No leaking red, a good sign if there ever was one. Now the trick was to keep him from reopening his stitches.

That will be difficult, considering he is not one to sit idle for a very long time. Still, Ezio chuckles at her statement, teasing her back.

"Stubborn? Me? Are you sure you have the right man, bella? You must be mistaken. I'm never stubborn." While there is no red, there's still the pain he has to manage, but it's less than what he had to deal with before. Luckily, Sofia's there to push him back down if he tries to stress himself, because knowing him? He will.

She pats him on the stomach, gently, to soothe his poor ego.

"Perhaps you just grow worse with age, then," she teases. "But if you're feeling well enough to joke, perhaps you are hungry. Should I get you something to eat?"

"That would be wonderful. And I certainly hope age does not make me any different from now."

There's a nod on his end, and he's grinning again, enjoying the treatment he's receiving.

She gets up, smoothing out her skirts. They look a little unkempt, given the circumstances: a crumbling old castle is no place for pretty silks and fine notions.

"I would not have you change for any reason, mio Ezio. All that has changed––" she leans over him for a second, to cup his cheek in her hand for a moment "–– is the eld of your face, and the grey of your beard."

Sofia steps away, heading for the door.

"Wait right here, as you would tell me. I'll be back with your dinner in a moment."

The assassin does not object, just tilts his head a little and chuckles. Ezio is pretty much bedridden at this point, and he doesn't want Sofia getting more worried than she already is.

"I will wait." It's a simple answer, and he means it. After all, breaking hearts is not par for the course. Not with Sofia.

She's back briefly, a bowl of soup in hand. If they were back in Venice, she'd make all his Florentine favourites, but one must make do with what's available in this class. Someday she will again, she decides. They're going to get out of this place eventually.

"I wish I could do more, but this place is lacking in proper ingredients," she says, sitting back down next to him. "Can you sit up, love?"

At this point, any kind of food is welcome to the poor assassin's stomach. He beams quite visibly at her return, and does as he's asked to do. There's a slight wincing on his end as he moves, but it's not anything he hasn't encountered before.

Then, holding his arms open once he's properly seated, there's that infamous grin of his again.

"Here I am, Sofia."

"Good," she replies, with a smile, holding the bowl out to him. "Right where I left you."

Truth be told, she had expected him to maybe use the moment alone to get out of bed and sneak off, but she's pleased that he hasn't. She'd worried when he disappeared, however briefly, and no matter how much she enjoys the company of the other Assassins, and fellows like Desmond or Sam, none could replace her husband.

"You Assassins, always getting into trouble. I'm glad you get yourselves out just as often."

"And that is why we become ghosts when spotted."

He personally is planning on doing so, but only when the moment is long enough for him to haul himself out of bed without nearly doubling over in pain again.

He takes the bowl and eats, thankful to have something warm come to his lips. All the while he still keeps an eye on his caretaker, wondering what exactly she is thinking at a time like this.

In all honesty, Sofia is thinking about how strange this situation is.

He seems so familiar with her, despite not knowing her, despite not knowing how close they really are... or at least how close they are supposed to be. She'd known he was quite the womanizer in his youth and had fortunately never felt the worry that he'd stray, but the Ezio she had first connected with had protected himself so much more. But perhaps, she considers, she is only seeing what she wants to see: an Ezio who loves her, and is affectionate towards her because she is his Sofia, not because she is a friendly woman tending to his wounds.

She wonders what he thinks of her affectionate words, and if he suspects anything of them.

Sofia loses herself in that thought, for a moment, until she realizes he's keeping an eye on her. Then, with a bit of an embarrassed look, she gives a faint smile.

"Do you need anything else, or shall I leave you to rest?"

What a strange situation, indeed. For all the many women he's met and bedded, Sofia is not like any of them in the least. Ezio is not one who tends to forge relationships with others unless in the ways of being an Assassin, for fear of them being put in danger for his sake. With so many lives taken by his hands alone, it is impossible to be still and constant with one person when he is a wanted man in almost every city he visits. His outlook on love hasn't changed in all the years he's been doing this duty, and he surely doesn't plan on doing so now.

But she is different. With her comes a certain sense of comfort, a way for him to not fear hiding everything about himself, to not be so guarded. Sofia has a kindness he does not see often enough in the streets of Roma, or Firenze. Ridden with Templar and their ill-fated laws, people are oppressed, innocence is ruined before the child becomes a man, and many are silenced for even the motion of rebelling. She carries the air of being nurturing, yet fiercely firm in appropriate situations. Sofia is a complicated woman, yet simple at the same time.

For a long moment he considers her question, debating if he really needs anything-

"Just one."

And in a split second, his arms bring her closer to him, lips gently pressed to Sofia's, kissing her. Nothing over the top, but something simple, something he feels will fit her, and fit her alone.

Who says he wasn't ever a romantic, even when injured?

She lets him pull her closer, and when he presses his lips to hers, she goes with it. It's both instinctive and the natural thing to do, and for the moment, she doesn't consider the whys and hows of the situation, or why he'd kiss her, or why any of this is happening. For that instant, nothing exists beyond their little bubble, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

It's exactly like the last time they kissed.

When it breaks off, she stays close, the tip of her nose almost brushing his, her weight leaned on one hand, the other hand on his cheek. She looks down for a second, averting her eyes, before making eye contact again.

"What was that for?" she asks, with a smile.

His smile is wide, and he chuckles, eyes bright at her question.

"Because it felt right."

It's the honest truth, and while he's not one to so easily admit it, Ezio does not have any shame in telling this to her. All things considered, had he been home, this most likely would have been tossed aside for something else, a new mission or a discovering of those who barged into the villa.

But here, he is alone and with her by his side, and he could not think of anything more peaceful than this. It's simple, so simple, yet exactly what he needs and wants in this moment, and nothing else could be more perfect.

Sofia can't help but be a little glassy-eyed at that. If that doesn't say time and missing memories don't matter, nothing will. It feels right. They'd waited a long time to find each other –– to find someone who would always be on the same page, someone who could match the other in drive and ambition –– and somehow, for reasons they would perhaps never understand, it could withstand this place.

"I'm glad." She pauses, and then laughs, leaning back to wipe at her eyes. "Che imbarazzante! I'm not usually so emotional."

"Va bene. It suits you." There is a gentle look on his face as he lets her wipe her eyes and come back to him. She is a woman of so many words, of beauty, of things he could never imagine. And she is all his, here, in this moment.

Maybe fate had a reason to bring them here. Maybe not. Ezio doesn't really understand or know why, but she feels close to him, in more ways than one. He knows she's keeping much from him, but he won't push at all- it's not his place, nor is it the right time. If she ever tells him, he'll listen. Otherwise, he's content on being left in the dark, as long as she stays.

"I've been foolish," she says, moving back towards him. She's careful to not lean on him, given his current predicament, but she gets close none-the-less, nose to nose. "I should have been honest with you from the beginning, about us."

About us. Admitting they are close... normally, he would want to know the truth, would actively seek it- but here, it doesn't feel right.

So, as an answer to her statement, Ezio places his fingers against her lips, hushing her. His own response is soft, gentle- letting her know he's not trying to push her away, but also to prove a point.

"Aspetta, aspetta. There is no need to explain. If I am to meet you sometime in my future, as I cannot remember you from before this place, do not tell me." As much as he may want to know, it would not turn out well for him. "I would not want to ruin a very good chance at meeting you or prevent other possible outcomes if I knew." That was the honest truth from him. He would rather wait and see, than let everything be told to him. Even if that meant years.

For a moment, she's confused –– what does that even mean, risking changing the outcome of their meeting? This time thing, just the mere suggestion that people from different centuries can somehow exist simultaneously or effect each other is boggling. It simply hadn't occurred to her that they could change what had obviously already happened for her, or for the people from the far future.

She pauses.

"I do not see how we could change history that has already been made, but I will trust your word on it."

As always.

He's not even concerned about changing history- he just wants to be surprised when they meet. He places a hand on her cheek, assuring her it is all for good intentions, and then nudges her nose with his own, a smile on his face.

"You bring me much more than I could ever imagine, Sofia." It's a simple statement, one that means to say that he is happy with how she is right now, and not knowing anything else about the two of them. Mysteries always thrilled him like that.

In a sense, she feels he already knows –– if not in his head, than in his heart. The thought is calming, as is his touch.

"And there is still much to discover, mio caro," she replies.

That causes him to chuckle, closing his eyes and smiling at her reply.

"I would not have it any other way, amore."

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:'( poor baby

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why did i write "class", i meant "castle" lmao

LMAO I knew what you meant <3

<3

... |3

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