asgardmeridiem | [OPEN] When you're free to choose but the choices leave you lost

Who: Ezio and EVERYONE EVER (aka you)
What: After the past few days of arguing with Desmond, trying to talk and instead arguing/being ridiculed by Shaun, and Connor losing his temper, the Italian is in sore need of a break. To top things off, Caterina has gone missing.
When: Day 384-387
Where: ALL OVER ASGARD it's a pick your own adventure!
Rating: PG13 at best

[This is just not his week.

Ezio is tired. No, more than that. He feels exhausted, run down to the spare fumes that he carries on the long nights where he just cannot sleep, bound by nightmares and pushed by adrenaline to lengths he really should not go. He does not find himself in this predicament often, and while the sleepless nights are a common thing for him due to his line of work, this has led to him being far more weary mentally then perhaps against other difficult times.

You can find him any of these places on any day wearing this, as he'll be around quite often, trying to relieve the amount of stress suddenly thrown onto him.

ODIN; A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK: It's been a long day and it's not even halfway through, but Ezio all the same can be found plopped in a chair in a corner of the shop, rubbing his face with his hands and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks terrible, his age beginning to show with the greys in his hair- limited though they are, they're still visible- and he sighs, closing his eyes and trying to think. The Italian doesn't look unapproachable, in fact, he would actually appreciate some company. Goodness knows he needs something positive rather than negative these days.

SIGYN; ROOFTOPS/WELCOME HALL: Free running is something he does just as easy as breathing, and so it's no surprise to find him flying above, with everyone else down below. In a sense, it is freeing, just as flight can be to a bird, or water for a fish. He crosses the rooftops, makes his way across the district and perches on ledges, eying the ash-ridden horizon with weary eyes. There's no particular destination he has in mind, and so it's a rather aimless wandering on his behalf.

The Welcome Hall, however, he decides to visit if only for a little nostalgia. He has no intent on going anywhere further than the main hall, as he doesn't want to run into certain family members if they don't want to see him. The interior is warmer and more welcoming than the outside, and he doesn't seem to be looking for anyone. Still, conversation is not something he'll turn down.

OTHER; STREETS: At times he is easy to spot, a tall Italian among the crowds and making his way through them with remarkable ease, hands gently pushing people aside, as if he knows just exactly where to touch to get them to move. Sometimes he sits on a bench, watching the crowds pass by, eyes alert and silently making note of everyone he sees. But perhaps the interesting thing about him is that he is far easier to lose and disappear completely from the eye, rather than to follow. He blends in groups of people, becomes hidden in the most open ends of the street- you would think a man of his height would stand out, but he doesn't. Carefully trained eyes will spot him blending, but for what purpose... well. He can't get rusty on his own skills, now can he?]

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[A new face definitely causes him to pause, slowing down where he is, and eventually approaching Tris where she stands. She's young, and does not look familiar with moving across the skyline, but he is not one to turn away from someone else.]

Enjoying yourself up here, piccina?

[All things considered, Tris half expects to be reprimanded for being up here, because that's what most people have done. But he seems... friendly, if, somehow, tired. She looks up at him, trying, but not very hard, to hide her curiosity. How many people were there in this city who ran around on rooftops?]

It's not bad. But I'm still getting used to it. ...Looks like running around on rooftops isn't that unusual around here.

[He chuckles, if only slightly. He is tired, it shows in the moments he does not talk, in how he does not openly engage as much as he would had he not have so many things on his mind.]

As I have noticed, as well. It is not so common back home.

[Ezio smiles a little at her curiosity, as it reminds him of himself as a young boy, eyes alight and wondering how people knew how to seemingly fly as if they had wings on their feet.]

It is not an easy thing to learn, but so long as you practice, it comes with time.

[Tris notes the heaviness about him, even if she's unable to fill in the gaps where something might be, otherwise. But she also notes the scar on his face, adding yet another thing to be curious about. Scars are always stories.]

Where did you learn it?

[Kidd said he'd been doing this most of his life. But if clothes were anything to go by, they didn't come from remotely the same place. Did they?]

From my brother. I was thirteen at the time.

[Scars are indeed stories, especially for him. He smiles wider, recalling the fond memories of Federico and their adventures across the rooftops, and learning how to freerun. Several times he sprained an ankle or a wrist, and broke his arm once, but it was a lesson learned that he took to very quickly afterwards.]

We would run across the rooftops of Firenze, racing each other to see who could get chores done faster. Our father and mother yelled at us at first, until they realized that we would not stop, and came to accept it.

[Her shoulders drop just slightly as he speaks of his family. His brother - probably older brother, too. But it hurts to think of her parents (they'd never have allowed this kind of thing, never ever ever), and it makes her angry to think of Caleb. She pushes the thoughts away.

Instead, she picks one of the dozen questions on her mind.]

Did you ever fall?

[She's not afraid of heights, but she's not looking for broken bones, either.]

[He watches her, and when her gestures change for a minute, he keeps quiet. It is not so hard to tell when someone has a burden on their shoulders, more so when they are up and away from others, where distractions can take away from everything around them. He won't push, as it's not his place, but just for a moment, she looks almost as tired as he feels.]

Sì, many times. But that is how you learn. If you fall, you pick yourself up and learn from it.

[He can understand the fear and hesitancy of traveling this way- but if you are never pushed, or are too afraid of even starting, then you will never get anywhere at all.]

[What he says makes sense to Tris, more so than many things she's seen and heard in this strange place. There's a spark like recognition in her eyes, because that concept has been the most important months of her life in one sentence.

Well.

Except for the ones who fall and never get up again. She looks over to the edge of the roof, and past it. Tries to shrug it off.]

I guess it's probably not going to kill me even if I fall down here.

[When he sees that spark, there is something in that that makes him lighten up just a little, a reminder of aiding others and the discovery of themselves in what he says. He smiles wide when she talks of falling, giving an amused huff.]

No, you will not. Not while I am here to catch you.

[She is not of the Brotherhood, has no ties to them, but she is a Traveler, like he is, and she wants to learn. And he is not going to let her get hurt if he's around to help.]

[She raises her eyebrows, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her humor is dry, but it's unmistakably humor, despite the somewhat defensive posture.]

Well, no offense, but I'm not going to wait for you to show up every time I want to practice.

[He laughs at that, shaking his head.]

No no, piccina. Not every time. But I am around often. If I spot you, I will watch and aid where I can.

[Humor though it may be, he is serious. She is young and therefore he will do what he can to assist her.]

[!! hang on stop, stop. There it is again. She perks up, curiosity fixed on one single thing:]

What's that word mean?

[He keeps calling her this thing and she doesn't even know what 'Italian' is.]

Piccina?

[Ezio pauses, moving his hands to emphasize.]

"Little one." It is Italian.

[Little one. ...She supposes she can live with that. However:]

What's Italian?

[No, really.]

[He pauses at that, blinking, before realizing that she's actually asking a question.]

Italian is the language of my home, Italy.

[The Italian looks to the horizon, then back to her.]

Your world does not have an "Italy," does it?

[Italy. Well, it makes sense that a place and a language would have similar names, but she can't even imagine what it is, let alone what it's like. She shrugs, frowning as she looks down.]

It might. They never taught us anything about what the world looks like. And if it does, I don't know if anyone lives there anymore.

[There's clear frustration there, even though she tries to keep it down. But she knows now just how much she didn't know at home - how much they weren't told and weren't supposed to ask about. Even the city she lived in was just "the city". Nobody called it by name.]

[OPEN] When you're free to choose but the choices leave you lost

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