The Villa was the hub of life for Monteriggioni. Without the small town around it, the villa just seemed like an empty building. Really, what it was, was the fact that they usually met all together in one room. Usually the study, sometimes the hidden Sanctuary. Desmond tended to stay either in the study or up in the room that was given to him. Sometimes, it was even on the roof of the villa. That was how he knew Elizabeth was on her way. He had hopped inside and grabbed one of his hoodies off the bed, intending to meet her down on the first floor. Instead he leaned against the railing of the second floor, looking down onto the first floor.
"I don't think queens are supposed to make house calls." He joked. "That's what the peasants do. Right?"
Elizabeth had gotten distracted, as she was prone too, looking at the paintings. She'd not seen them like this, not apart from in her own palace. Just slow steps by them as she peered at them, admired the skill of them. Gorgeous, really, granted it took longer than most people realized to have a portrait done. It was just something of home that she enjoyed for a moment.
The voice made her turn, trying to see where it came from, that same quite rustle of skirts before she thought to look up, and then she beamed. "Ah, it seems I found you." She laughed brightly, listening to it echo off the stone corridors. "Queens usually send runners to do their work, but that is only to the people I do not like very much." Which was only partly true, most of the time she was too busy to talk to all the people she needed to in person.
"I think it's more like I found you." Desmond cracked a smile. She was the one looking at the paintings. "I'll take that as a compliment then." Then he nodded towards the paintings. "Ezio collected all of them as he went through Italy. Venice, Florence, Florì, places throughout Tuscany. You should ask him about them sometime. He knows more about them than I do."
He could recall buying them and sending them to Monteriggioni, but not their names or who they were painted by. The smaller details like that were lost in the sea of memories that sometimes felt like it was his life. Desmond knew better, after having placing his broken mind together, but that didn't get rid of the vividness of the ancestral memories he had lived. Somethings were sharper than others, and then there were times that he could only remember certain things in his dreams. Nightmares of faces from the Crusades and Renaissance as blades cut into them. The nightmares were fewer now, but he still found himself waking up sometimes and hoping to whatever was listening
( ... )
"Oh hardly, for surely I could sneak up on an assassin in his own home." Though she doesn't believe it, for she laughs all the same.
She turned away from the paintings, walking across the stone floor to the stairs. "Do as you will, Master Desmond, something tells me if I started complimenting you properly, you'd run away like a boy from his tutors." She did take her time on the stairs, getting distracted again by the paintings. She'd never see these things, not in her time. For she'd never leave England, and it was seldom anything so fine ever left its home. "I've heard of some of these... others are so far after me. But it is nice to see them... Do you like them? Do people still appreciate paintings anymore?" She reached the top of the stairs, fingers running along the bannister.
"I'm pretty sure you couldn't. We're really good at hiding in plain sight." He let the smile turn into a grin.
Then he laughed. "Maybe. I'm not that great with the whole compliments thing." He wasn't in a rush. Instead he stood and leaned against the railing with his arms crossed. Desmond paid little attention to the paintings that were on the walls. It wasn't his forte and there were more important things going on in Mandalus to be preoccupied by how Ezio chose to decorate the villa. "They're pretty nice. Painting isn't really me."
"Oh but I'm just so very discreet." Says her in the bright green silks and silver thread that glitters, but she's not taking herself seriously at all.
"It would seem that way. You must learn to take them, sometime. Or someone will exploit this as a weakness. Which would be cruel of them, but I am sure it's expected." And by someone, she meant her, but that was plainly obviously. She smoothed a hand over her skirts before coming up to him. Giving him that same kiss on the cheek in greeting that she had taken to doing, whether he liked it or not. "Don't like deciphering them? Or just not appreciator of beauty?"
Desmond decided not to comment on that. He simply looked at the color of her gown. Right. Discreet. Huh-huh.
"I haven't had a whole lot of people in my life to compliment me." He shrugged it off. His dad was a Drill Sargent when it came to the ways of training him as a kid. Desmond left and for nine years really had no friends. There were the Assassins of his time, and then the Brotherhood in Mandalus... but it was still hard to shake off an entire life worth of feeling useless. Even if the fate of the world was on his shoulders.
He cracked her a grin, even if it was forced. "More like... Ezio knew Leonardo da Vinci so, you know, there's a lot of stuff that's kind of family secrets." This was awkward. "I worked bartending back home. I'm used to loud music and crazy lights and listening to peoples problems as they get drunk."
The most discreet. Well, she was at home. Honestly unless it was a session of parliament, or you were a priest, you'd look very odd wearing only black or white.
"Well then, I shall have to do it more often if that be the case. Where should I start? Your looks or your skill?" Grinning widely, she tapped her finger against her lips -- as if it were some great matter of state that need contemplation. "For surely you've pretty bright eyes. But no doubt your mind is brighter still."
Her eyebrows went up. She knew Da Vinci, closer to her grandfather's time, but his work even to her was said to be unparalleled. "And here you are, in the company of such fine work and so utterly unappreciative of it." She gave him a little nudge against his side. "Aha, and you do not long for anything else? For surely fish long to fly and eagles long to swim from time to time."
He's never really going to understand why high courts need to wear such fancy things. Then again, he is only from the modern era.
Desmond stared at her, forcing himself not to blush or stammer. Why the hell was the Queen of England making him feel like a little kid? If only Shaun was here. He'd be freaking out that Queen Elizabeth I herself was trying to... flirt with him. Desmond shrugged and glanced away. "I guess so." He felt pretty stupid for everything he had done in his past.
"People would say the same thing if they found out the Queen of England was flirting with me." He replied. "Leonardo was just a person too. Smart as hell, sure, but just a person." There was a smirk on his face. "I already am what I wanted to be."
Because power should dress like it knows what it is doing. It should be that seemed untouchable, and Elizabeth aimed to be that to her people, above and beyond even the normal, so they could believe in something. They could believe in what was so far above even normal nobility.
She grinned only wider, watching him force himself be calm, to not give in like young men usually did. "Oh now, is that all Desmond?" She considered it a public service to teach young men to flirt. So far they all seemed rather awful at it.
"Those who knew me would say I was bored no doubt." She gave him a determined poke. "Flirting is the least of what I am capable of." The queen shook her head. "A person of skill, just the same way as I am well learned." She gave a sigh. "You always knew what you wanted to be? Once upon a time, all I wanted was to be acknowledged by those around me. I have that now..." she shrugged, it came at a high cost. "Once I was just a child that was largely ignored by those around her."
That was just a statement. Desmond had seen it where people don't need the garbs or trappings to actually be powerful. Control the hearts and minds of men... that was real power. He saw it used for both Assassins and Templars--sw the damage it did. How it's destroyed an entire civilization. He wasn't going to question Elizabeth's power, simply because he knew the version of her in his universe had an Apple of Eden.
He had been around the block a few times. Flirting was nothing. Flirting with the Queen of England? That is weird. Even for him. "No point in bragging about something you haven't been doing your whole life
( ... )
She honestly wished things would be so easy. Then she wouldn't have been a frustrated crying mess every time she had to pass a law and trying to convince them, her bishops and her lords what had to be done. Perhaps she was a traditionalist, it involved just kidnapping
( ... )
That mess is what made it human. What was the point in being human if they couldn't chose? If you were forced to do whatever someone did simply because of an object of power - or because they thought you were less than them? What was the point? Desmond would chose the mess and the risks any day. At least then they could chose whatever destiny they wanted. Complete with it's consequences
( ... )
The mess made the humanity, and the mess brought the pain and the suffering -- it brought a country divide and butchering and burning. It was why she tried so hard.
"And my tutors taught me -- I am still proud for speaking ten languages. Are you going to tell me I shouldn't be?" She's faintly challenging of him, chin tilted up and jaw set proudly, all that steel she kept hidden most of the time, but then she shifts and it's simply gone again, too much of a changing creature for that. "See, perhaps, if we were talking about your flirting -- that would be an utterly different scenario."
"Assassin's don't often fight for causes. They kill for money. Granted Mercenaries do the same, but they are as described. You're closer to a warrior than that." Elizabeth looked at him side long, then nodded stiffly. "Indeed. Not perhaps the way I would of like to make it known, but he was speaking the truth. He is my ah -- amante." She gave a guilty little laugh, because it was still hard for her to admit. Not because Gabriel, but because for so
( ... )
"Ten languages, huh? I barely speak Italian." Even then that's just broken phrases and the words he picked up from being in the Animus for so long. He rolled his eyes at her. Was Queen Elizabeth really trying to bait him into a pissing contest about who had the most training? "Oh, let me guess. It's non existent and tactless? I'm pretty sure that's what Ezio would say."
Hell, Ezio would probably say that Desmond's lack of flirting would come from Altaïr's side of the family.
Demsond shrugged. "That's what they make you think in my world. The Templars. They rewrite history to make us look like the bad guys while they're the saving light of humanity." He couldn't help the angered tone that came whenever he talked about those bastards. "Holy shit." Great job, Desmond. Use those words of yours.
"Then we shall have to start from there -- moi amore." But she'd be offended that he thought that of her, she'd never be quite like that, it was all to prove one single point, that just because you were taught by someone else, didn't make you any less skilled. "I wouldn't say that exactly, I would say that you simply need practise, and perhaps a second chance at it." She stopped him, to take his again, dipping a curtsey. "Pretend I am a lady you fancy, what would you say to me?"
"But the Templars were destroyed before even my grandfather's time? They were slaughtered even, so much blood spilled that the day is considered cursed itself." She frowned at him, confused at what he was saying. But his response made her frown deeper. "Really now? Is it just so shocking I should pick him?"
"I don't think queens are supposed to make house calls." He joked. "That's what the peasants do. Right?"
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The voice made her turn, trying to see where it came from, that same quite rustle of skirts before she thought to look up, and then she beamed. "Ah, it seems I found you." She laughed brightly, listening to it echo off the stone corridors. "Queens usually send runners to do their work, but that is only to the people I do not like very much." Which was only partly true, most of the time she was too busy to talk to all the people she needed to in person.
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He could recall buying them and sending them to Monteriggioni, but not their names or who they were painted by. The smaller details like that were lost in the sea of memories that sometimes felt like it was his life. Desmond knew better, after having placing his broken mind together, but that didn't get rid of the vividness of the ancestral memories he had lived. Somethings were sharper than others, and then there were times that he could only remember certain things in his dreams. Nightmares of faces from the Crusades and Renaissance as blades cut into them. The nightmares were fewer now, but he still found himself waking up sometimes and hoping to whatever was listening ( ... )
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She turned away from the paintings, walking across the stone floor to the stairs. "Do as you will, Master Desmond, something tells me if I started complimenting you properly, you'd run away like a boy from his tutors." She did take her time on the stairs, getting distracted again by the paintings. She'd never see these things, not in her time. For she'd never leave England, and it was seldom anything so fine ever left its home. "I've heard of some of these... others are so far after me. But it is nice to see them... Do you like them? Do people still appreciate paintings anymore?" She reached the top of the stairs, fingers running along the bannister.
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Then he laughed. "Maybe. I'm not that great with the whole compliments thing." He wasn't in a rush. Instead he stood and leaned against the railing with his arms crossed. Desmond paid little attention to the paintings that were on the walls. It wasn't his forte and there were more important things going on in Mandalus to be preoccupied by how Ezio chose to decorate the villa. "They're pretty nice. Painting isn't really me."
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"It would seem that way. You must learn to take them, sometime. Or someone will exploit this as a weakness. Which would be cruel of them, but I am sure it's expected." And by someone, she meant her, but that was plainly obviously. She smoothed a hand over her skirts before coming up to him. Giving him that same kiss on the cheek in greeting that she had taken to doing, whether he liked it or not. "Don't like deciphering them? Or just not appreciator of beauty?"
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"I haven't had a whole lot of people in my life to compliment me." He shrugged it off. His dad was a Drill Sargent when it came to the ways of training him as a kid. Desmond left and for nine years really had no friends. There were the Assassins of his time, and then the Brotherhood in Mandalus... but it was still hard to shake off an entire life worth of feeling useless. Even if the fate of the world was on his shoulders.
He cracked her a grin, even if it was forced. "More like... Ezio knew Leonardo da Vinci so, you know, there's a lot of stuff that's kind of family secrets." This was awkward. "I worked bartending back home. I'm used to loud music and crazy lights and listening to peoples problems as they get drunk."
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"Well then, I shall have to do it more often if that be the case. Where should I start? Your looks or your skill?" Grinning widely, she tapped her finger against her lips -- as if it were some great matter of state that need contemplation. "For surely you've pretty bright eyes. But no doubt your mind is brighter still."
Her eyebrows went up. She knew Da Vinci, closer to her grandfather's time, but his work even to her was said to be unparalleled. "And here you are, in the company of such fine work and so utterly unappreciative of it." She gave him a little nudge against his side. "Aha, and you do not long for anything else? For surely fish long to fly and eagles long to swim from time to time."
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Desmond stared at her, forcing himself not to blush or stammer. Why the hell was the Queen of England making him feel like a little kid? If only Shaun was here. He'd be freaking out that Queen Elizabeth I herself was trying to... flirt with him. Desmond shrugged and glanced away. "I guess so." He felt pretty stupid for everything he had done in his past.
"People would say the same thing if they found out the Queen of England was flirting with me." He replied. "Leonardo was just a person too. Smart as hell, sure, but just a person." There was a smirk on his face. "I already am what I wanted to be."
An assassin.
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She grinned only wider, watching him force himself be calm, to not give in like young men usually did. "Oh now, is that all Desmond?" She considered it a public service to teach young men to flirt. So far they all seemed rather awful at it.
"Those who knew me would say I was bored no doubt." She gave him a determined poke. "Flirting is the least of what I am capable of." The queen shook her head. "A person of skill, just the same way as I am well learned." She gave a sigh. "You always knew what you wanted to be? Once upon a time, all I wanted was to be acknowledged by those around me. I have that now..." she shrugged, it came at a high cost. "Once I was just a child that was largely ignored by those around her."
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He had been around the block a few times. Flirting was nothing. Flirting with the Queen of England? That is weird. Even for him. "No point in bragging about something you haven't been doing your whole life ( ... )
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"And my tutors taught me -- I am still proud for speaking ten languages. Are you going to tell me I shouldn't be?" She's faintly challenging of him, chin tilted up and jaw set proudly, all that steel she kept hidden most of the time, but then she shifts and it's simply gone again, too much of a changing creature for that. "See, perhaps, if we were talking about your flirting -- that would be an utterly different scenario."
"Assassin's don't often fight for causes. They kill for money. Granted Mercenaries do the same, but they are as described. You're closer to a warrior than that." Elizabeth looked at him side long, then nodded stiffly. "Indeed. Not perhaps the way I would of like to make it known, but he was speaking the truth. He is my ah -- amante." She gave a guilty little laugh, because it was still hard for her to admit. Not because Gabriel, but because for so ( ... )
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Hell, Ezio would probably say that Desmond's lack of flirting would come from Altaïr's side of the family.
Demsond shrugged. "That's what they make you think in my world. The Templars. They rewrite history to make us look like the bad guys while they're the saving light of humanity." He couldn't help the angered tone that came whenever he talked about those bastards. "Holy shit." Great job, Desmond. Use those words of yours.
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"But the Templars were destroyed before even my grandfather's time? They were slaughtered even, so much blood spilled that the day is considered cursed itself." She frowned at him, confused at what he was saying. But his response made her frown deeper. "Really now? Is it just so shocking I should pick him?"
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