scorched | Memory 02

Entry tags:

reborn

Memory 02 | [audio]

[Oh, it's that Italian again. Ezio's found his bearings, for the most part, but for someone like him, a fighter, a master of weapons, there is quite an important question to ask.]

Is there a blacksmith or simply some place in which a man may have their broken armor or weapons repaired? I ask because I prefer to know from others what is best, which place is preferred over others, which is more skilled.

[And then, because he's a fast learner, he sets up a filter to a certain Miata, who is a stranger to him, but she is no stranger to him.]

Might I speak with you in person, Miata?

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Si, Ezio? I am in my room.

Could you tell me where that is?

Upstairs in Giovanni's house, to the right. It's blue. Can't miss it.

Very well, I shall see you soon.

[He ends the feed and heads for his father's house now, having been busy trying to find a blacksmith in the city.

Indeed, it was impossible to miss. The blue stood out quite well. He knocks on the door.]

Okay.

[She waits in her room for him to come, but didn't open the door until he knocked. She opened it, and without a word, motioned him to come in.]

[He stepped inside. He hadn't been entirely sure what to expect of her, and he still doesn't.

There are very few times where he doesn't have words, or has no idea where to start. This is one of them.]

How long have you known my father and I?

Months. I know Giovanni better than I know you, now.

[She settled onto the bed, sitting down. Watching him.]

I met you first when you were very old; you promised to teach me Italian. But you left before you could. The oldest you bought this house.

Then...you came back. Younger. We...were close. You were happy. We were happy. It was...maybe three months? More or less.

Your father brought me here in November, I think. Been here, learning training, working since then.

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[Oh he knows that voice -- but he hasn't heard it in a while.]

Ezio, is that you? Yes - there is Guinevere, she is most skilled at her craft.

[... This again.]

Si, I am Ezio, but I do not believe we have met.

We have - in my knighting celebration. I'm Lancelot? I'm a friend of your father's.

Mi dispiace, but I have only just arrived. You may have met another version of myself.

[There's a twinge of being genuinely apologetic. He can't explain it, he wishes he could.]

[He nods, of course. Anatole is like that.]

I'm sorry, of course. These things do happen here sometimes, I've heard. In any case as I said I am Sir Lancelot, a friend of your father's. If there's anything you need I will happily assist you with it.

I would introduce myself as well, but you seem to already know me. Grazie, Sir Lancelot. A friend of my father's is a friend of mine as well. Tell me of this woman you spoke of, Guinevere.