(no subject)
Roma, 1502
The recruits made him feel young again.
Not that he felt old, per se. He had life and fight in him for a while yet, but it was just that he found it hard to ignore the steady creep of gray hairs, or the way exhaustion set in a little earlier than it used to. Having a bunch of young twenty-somethings coming and going from the hideout made it a little easier to deal with. The same group of young twenty-somethings also made work a little easier, and a lot more fun.
Case and point, the playfulness of some of them. Ezio had long grown used to the stiff upper lips of the Assassins, from La Volpe's cynical stares to Machiavelli's quiet disdain, but the recruits invigorated it all, gave it harmony and balance. They were a lot like what Ezio imagined Frederico to been like as an assassin: serious when necessary, but completely willing to stop and enjoy life's pleasures.
Of course, Ezio found himself giving a lot more lectures and having to make all sorts of absurd rules, but it was worth it, in the end, for a bit of levity. Machiavelli was not so pleased, and it made it clear almost daily.
"Walk with me," Ezio said to him, one day. "Advise me, advisor."
And so Ezio's favourite advisor walked with him to do exactly that.
"There's nothing with having some gaiety on Tiber Island," Ezio assured him. "All of their work is being carried out, and nothing has been forgotten."
Machiavelli stopped and pointedly gestured towards the rooftop of the hideout. Two recruits stood on the edge of the roof, peering down into the street, where another pair of recruits were engrossed in conversation. One of which, naturally, had only been invited to join the cause a day before, and had little in the way of training, nor a working understanding of how difficult it was to be the lowest novice in the group.
Both Ezio and Machiavelli watched as one of the rooftop recruits jumped off, poised for a mock-assassination, and flattened the newest recruit to the pavement. Laughter burst out from the older three, and Ezio and Machiavelli could hear the whoops of laughter from all the way up the street. The rookie was unhurt, but no doubt shaken.
Machiavelli looked at Ezio.
"I advise you to revise your criteria."
Ezio tried to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
"I'll consider it."
The recruits made him feel young again.
Not that he felt old, per se. He had life and fight in him for a while yet, but it was just that he found it hard to ignore the steady creep of gray hairs, or the way exhaustion set in a little earlier than it used to. Having a bunch of young twenty-somethings coming and going from the hideout made it a little easier to deal with. The same group of young twenty-somethings also made work a little easier, and a lot more fun.
Case and point, the playfulness of some of them. Ezio had long grown used to the stiff upper lips of the Assassins, from La Volpe's cynical stares to Machiavelli's quiet disdain, but the recruits invigorated it all, gave it harmony and balance. They were a lot like what Ezio imagined Frederico to been like as an assassin: serious when necessary, but completely willing to stop and enjoy life's pleasures.
Of course, Ezio found himself giving a lot more lectures and having to make all sorts of absurd rules, but it was worth it, in the end, for a bit of levity. Machiavelli was not so pleased, and it made it clear almost daily.
"Walk with me," Ezio said to him, one day. "Advise me, advisor."
And so Ezio's favourite advisor walked with him to do exactly that.
"There's nothing with having some gaiety on Tiber Island," Ezio assured him. "All of their work is being carried out, and nothing has been forgotten."
Machiavelli stopped and pointedly gestured towards the rooftop of the hideout. Two recruits stood on the edge of the roof, peering down into the street, where another pair of recruits were engrossed in conversation. One of which, naturally, had only been invited to join the cause a day before, and had little in the way of training, nor a working understanding of how difficult it was to be the lowest novice in the group.
Both Ezio and Machiavelli watched as one of the rooftop recruits jumped off, poised for a mock-assassination, and flattened the newest recruit to the pavement. Laughter burst out from the older three, and Ezio and Machiavelli could hear the whoops of laughter from all the way up the street. The rookie was unhurt, but no doubt shaken.
Machiavelli looked at Ezio.
"I advise you to revise your criteria."
Ezio tried to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
"I'll consider it."