Drabblage! 8D
Last night we had such a good time - crackling fire, tea, cake, creativity...
Me and Chi had each picked twenty words from here, folded them up and then took turn drawing three each and writing short drabbles for each prompt until we'd run all out.
It's been so long since I did any writing, I was feeling really rusty, but it was great fun nonetheless. ♥
Unwillingness
It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits. For now.
Memento
"Something to remember me by," murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.
Baseline
He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.
Sniper
He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?
Birthplace
It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.
Denunciation
It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?
Distaste
"Volpe, you didn't!" Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.
"Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained."
Ezio shudders. "That is exactly what bothers me!"
Elimination
Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.
Bluntness
"You can do as I say," says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, "or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours."
Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.
Turf
The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.
Assassination
He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'd never even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as the first body at his feet.
Apprentice
He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.
Debris
Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.
Scolding
Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face when the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.
Torrent
The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.
Anchor
He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.
Truce
"It would be nice," says Machiavelli evenly, "if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion."
"Fine," mutters Volpe, frowning. "It would be nice if you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own."
"Fine," Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.
Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.
Nook
There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.
Orgy
These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.
Scoff
"I spend all my time in the Animus," Desmond frowns, "Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do you do, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?"
Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.
"You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid."
Me and Chi had each picked twenty words from here, folded them up and then took turn drawing three each and writing short drabbles for each prompt until we'd run all out.
It's been so long since I did any writing, I was feeling really rusty, but it was great fun nonetheless. ♥
Unwillingness
It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits. For now.
Memento
"Something to remember me by," murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.
Baseline
He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.
Sniper
He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?
Birthplace
It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.
Denunciation
It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?
Distaste
"Volpe, you didn't!" Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.
"Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained."
Ezio shudders. "That is exactly what bothers me!"
Elimination
Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.
Bluntness
"You can do as I say," says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, "or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours."
Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.
Turf
The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.
Assassination
He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'd never even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as the first body at his feet.
Apprentice
He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.
Debris
Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.
Scolding
Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face when the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.
Torrent
The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.
Anchor
He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.
Truce
"It would be nice," says Machiavelli evenly, "if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion."
"Fine," mutters Volpe, frowning. "It would be nice if you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own."
"Fine," Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.
Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.
Nook
There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.
Orgy
These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.
Scoff
"I spend all my time in the Animus," Desmond frowns, "Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do you do, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?"
Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.
"You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid."