paradisa | iv λ knowledge

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ezio auditore da firenze

iv λ knowledge

[Ezio is about to bust out the most intense filter work of his life. He has never done a complicated filter before, and he needs to do this right.]

----- Inventors, technology experts, mechanics, but barring those who seek power -----

[he clears his throat, then in that thick Italian accent:]

Hello... my name is Ezio Auditore, and I seek an inventor or mechanic or... esperto of some kind. I have obtained an object of great importance, but I do not know what it does, or what it is capable of.

But I need someone I can trust, someone with the right... sensitivities for this object.

-----Historians and Religious people, barring Lucrezia Borgia -----

[Still more thick Italian accent:]

I seek information about Pope Alexander VI.

-----

[And, with that done, you can find him in the kitchen, contemplating the microwave.]

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[Well, thinking about it, he knows a few things.]

I want to see justice done, and then I will... find a wife, have children, and... be an investor, or a banker, I suppose.

['see justice done.' you know what, considering he has some idea what 'justice' entails, he's going to gloss over that point and focus on the others. because they're much more warm and fuzzy inducing.]

Ahh. That sounds like a very good future to me... One worth striving toward!

'Find a wife.' So, there's no special someone yet? [WHAT DID WE JUST MEET so what... he'll ask all the things...!!]

[Ezio's not too put off by the questions -- even if they're oddly personal, he assumes this is just priest doing priestly soul-check-up things.]

Not yet.

[He wouldn't make a wife out of the vast majority of the women he beds... even the ones he's bedded here :|]

[well, he's half-right!]

Love is the kind of thing you can't rush, huh? I guess that's one thing about Paradisa... you've got nothing but time to mull over those sorts of things. If you weren't sure what you wanted from life before, maybe you'll have more of an idea by the time the castle sends you off to adventures elsewhere! [...because he, for one, is not so certain 'home' is their first stop on the castle-train away from this little humble abode.]

[He's still not really over Cristina, in some sense... but it'd be nice to feel head over heels for someone he could see for more than five minutes over the past ten years.]

There is plenty of time, yes.

[Except there isn't, because he's 28 and his family name is pretty much ruined.]

It'd be good to know when Alexander VI will be dead, though, so I can get to that part of my life.

Is that a less-than-subtle hint for a certain priest to, perhaps, cough up certain dates...?

Yes.

But where is the magic word, my fine friend?!

Please, per favore, or in whatever language pleases you.

There is no language finer than that of humility, dear Mr. Auditore. [or he's just trolling you, whatever.]

In that case, I suppose I can part with the details. But... under one condition, okay?

[Biting back a grumble.]

What is the condition?

I would really hate for this to be a shadow over you. One way, or another. I'm not the kind of man who could sleep well at night doing that kind of thing to someone else, you know? It's clearly important to you... but remember that nothing is set in stone.

Long as you can keep that in mind and take this with a grain of salt, then... I won't have a problem obliging. Okay?

[He's tempted to point out that it has been a shadow over him for ten years, that it's only agony as long as it's dangled in front of his face, that it's pointless to say it's not set in stone when it's HISTORY, but...

Calmly:]

I accept those terms.

[anyone else would probably doubt him with such a candid response.

Abel, however, takes him in total faith (like an idiot?? you decide)]

...Then! I'm shaking the journal right now. Like a handshake, mm? So--

[...]

So, ah. Um.

[......................................

no he didn't forget... what are you talking about... this awkward silence does NOT imply that at all don't misjudge the situation...!!!]

[a touch impatient]

... the date is?

H-haha. The... the funny thing is, I-- ah.

[he is contemplating escape. SHUT THE JOURNAL??]

I might've... uh... Y-you know, the thing is-- those tricky... those... dates, you know...

--Um.

[...]

... Do you mean to say you do not know?

...That is one deduction...

[He misses his old church.]

I believe we are done here.

--Wait! Wait, okay? Just wait one minute!

My wife might know better than me, al... alright?! Give me two minutes! Two! One, two-- and I'll be right back. I promise!

...Don't hang up! [or shut the journal, whatever.]

You have five minutes.

[there is the scrape of a chair against floorboards, and footsteps; a faint "LILITH" oh dear god in the distance.

some muffled talking...

...footsteps approaching again, that voice a little bit distant as he replies.]

--1503! S-see? [and now he's back properly, taking his chair.] You owe Lilith for that one, Mr. Auditore!

[Something in his mind tells him that the polite thing to do now would be to thank Abel and his wife -- and maybe be surprised that a priest is still married at all -- but he's too distracted by the year. His heart sinks again, worse than it did when it was suggested that anyone but an unknown Assassin had killed him. 1503? That's so far away. That's fifteen whole years away.

So he's silent for a moment, utterly floored. He comes within a few inches of pounding his fist on his desk out of frustration, and he's sorely tempted to curse just to vent but he makes do with quiet theatrics on his side of the journal.]

Father Abel Nightroad

the Italian Stallion

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the Italian Stallion

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