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

[sicarius]

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?]

Comments

sigyn welcome hall

[meliorator]

[When it comes to people in need, allegiances stop mattering. That's something Dr. Sung has had the face personally, obviously-- first Clay and Desmond, now the understanding that there are likely more Assassins around. But she's no danger to them. Unless they're afraid she'll heal them to death. Be kind of counter-productive.

It hasn't been long, but she's been able to get herself to work, thanks to Dr. Watson. He'd been extremely generous letting some random woman take up space there, but she'd be the last person to turn that down. It mostly meant she'd spent half the near-month she's been in Asgard asleep over her desk or just too weary to make it to the Welcome Hall and instead found herself in a cot. Every so often, however, she'll make her way back. Trousers and sensible boots help the trek compared to, you know, a skirt and heels in this weather.

And it's not that she can't, from records, recognize Ezio. Dr. Sung has just stopped caring about these specifics. Getting dropped into this place shatters any real pretense of being shocked by much.

Still, upon entering the Welcome Hall ready to just go right to bed, thank you very much, it's hard to miss how weary someone can look just standing... She frowns, always careful to make sure her footstep are audible when approaching, and gently lays a hand on Ezio's arm.]

[sicarius]

[He's kept to himself, mostly. Watched people as they come and go, hardly spoken to them, and stayed quiet unless spoken to. Which hasn't happened yet. Still, the sound of footsteps and a gentle touch cause him to turn and face Dr. Sung, and despite his weariness, there is still a smile on his face, if only a small one.

He's thankful she's taking care to make sure he hears her and doesn't react poorly- tired as he is, his actions can be caught, but not always.

There is a headtilt as he looks at the woman before him, seeming familiar in some ways, and not so familiar in others. He doesn't recognize her by her face, as they only spoke by voice, but her quiet and caring demeanor is something he picks up on easily, without even words to say something.

He has no intention of really speaking, but his body language says everything he does not. Yes? How can I help you?]

[meliorator]

[That seems to seal something-- Dr.s Sung's brows knit together for a moment. Obvious concern. But people don't really need words to have a conversation. She remembers a story. One her mother used to tell her growing up to make her feel better about things. Of two women who would meet all the time.

They'd sit and have tea, but never say a word. just share looks. Yet still say more than a hundred volumes between them.

Dr. Sung liked to believe in that power. That people can communicate so much more. She sees that bone weariness and it's uncomfortable. A handsome face like that, good sir, shouldn't have worry line like that.

And in the next, her expression turns resolute.

While she promptly shoos Ezio right into the kitchen.]

[sicarius]

[He raises an eyebrow when she shoos him into the kitchen, but does not protest. Instead, he lets her push him into the space, turning around to face her once he's there and see what she does.

At first, he leans against the counter a little, indicating that whatever she's planning, he can help. Then he moves over to a chair, and rests his hands on the back of that. If she wants, he can sit down and wait, as well.

It's a unique way of talking, he finds- one that only happens every so often back home, on early mornings just before the sun rises, before training has started. He would sit on the rooftop of one of the Bureaus, and watch the sun rise over Rome's skyline, all in the quiet of the morning. Sometimes the novices found him there, and other times, he found them. Regardless, it was a place they could simply be, a time that was spent in silence and just enjoying the company and the presence of what was around them.

He wonders, perhaps, if this is similar in a way. Two strangers, yet they can still talk and understand each other without ever saying a word.]

[meliorator]

[All she does is wave him off. You wait right there, Ezio while she shrugs out of her coat and drops her bag next to door in favor of rolling up her sleeves. Readjusting her hair so that it's not a pony tail and more of a loose bun.

Every so often there is only ever a need for setting a mug down on the table in preparation for tea, always mindful of avoiding stimulants out of habit, and a plate as well. To let him know just what she planned on doing. Meaning feed him. Food is something better than words.

Food if a language that transcends even languages, cultures. Not the same as quiet sunrises, perhaps, but the smile that replaces that resolute scowl means well-- a hopefulness to it. Frankly it boils down to one thing: Ezio doesn't have to say anything. In the purest sense of the phrase. He doesn't have to say a word to her at all. Not a thank you, not a please, nothing. Just let himself be where he is. Dr. Sung won't ask questions, won't tell stories, won't do anything other than do what she's doing now. Like finding a wok. Something that surprised her for a second-- hadn't exactly expected one, not really, but all the same it goes onto the counter and water in a kettle set to boil.

Hot food for tired bones, isn't that how it goes?

The only real time Dr. Sung turns her back on Ezio is to start pulling ingredients to chop, beginning to hum to herself-- a habit she's always had.]