scharlachrot | Tumblr Prompt Meme: Assassin's Creed Part 1

There was a meme on Tumblr where someone would leave a prompt in your ask box, and you could write about it. It was a good excercise.I've been meaning to drabble more. And I guess it also helped people peek into my representation of the characters.

So far, I've done five.Three for Ezio, and two for Sibrand. They're originally posted on each respective RP blog, but I felt I should house themhere, too.

Ezio:
Prompt 1: Blood
Prompt 2: Sickness
Prompt 3: Bad Wine

Sibrand:
Prompt 1: After Life
Prompt 2: MEIN GOTT

And they're all under the cut!

EZIO:

Prompt: Blood

There was a time when his hands were clean. And there was a time when the sight or smell of blood might have made him wretch. Theformer was a long time ago, and the latter was even longer ago. And they were now but fleeting memories of a young man who no longerexisted. That boy passed the moment his blade was drawn for the first time.

Now, blood was a part of him. Of course, it always had been. But now it was more than just the blood that coursed through his own veinswith every heart beat. Now it stained his cuffs. It stained his vest. It stained his hands, his heart, and his mind. The blood was his own,carving scarlet rivers on the bed of his skin. The spray was the blood of men who blindly followed their code, their orders. The stains werethe blood of men who used their powerful tongues to weave lies and bend the souls of others. The pools in his mind were the innocent,caught in the fray.

There was so much of it. Enough of it to fill the oceans, the seas, the rivers. And he'd spilled it all.

Now was a time Ezio had reconciled this. Blood was his perfume. And his hands would never, ever come clean.

Prompt: Sickness

Ezio was no stranger to sickness. He watched his youngest brother struggle with sickness for the entirety of his far too short life. Heremembered the toll it took on Petruccio. And he remembered the toll it took on their mother. Of course, they all tried to help in their ownways to ease it. There were a number of times he'd made trips to the masked doctors in the city for various medicines to relieve the boy'sailments. Sometimes they were procured in less than honorable ways, to which when his mother and father found out, he was swiftly andterribly reprimanded. But it proved that there was anything Ezio would do for his brother, if only just to see him happy. There was no lengthhe wouldn't go to in order to put a smile on Petruccio's face. It wasn't sickness that took Petruccio from him, and his mother, however. And itwas strange that he had found himself wishing it had , instead, in the years that followed.

It was a wish he later found himself regretting had ever crossed his mind.

In the years he had grown to love Rosa, he knew her as a tough, strong, and independent woman. Nothing could take her down. Soeveryone was convinced, anyways. Life had been no more pleasant to her, if not worse, than it had been to him. And yet, she could take thehits, and roll with the punches thrown at her. And perhaps that's why he loved her so much. And why it struck him so hard when she fell ill.

It started as a wound. That was the only cause for it they could really find, but of course, no one really knew how it happened. He was sure ithad been thoroughly cleaned and patched. He'd done it himself. He had even found a doctor for herbal remedies to ensure its speedyrecovery. But it wasn't quick enough it would seem. And he watched the sickness take hold, and slowly take that strong, vibrant woman, andtwist her until she broke.

He tried everything. The guild tried everything. Nothing worked. And he watched her wither before him in a way that no one should ever haveto suffer, all while he could do nothing to stop it. It made his heart ache.

Nor could he stay to mourn her, just as he couldn't stay to mourn his brother. He had a job to do. He would have to leave the pain to ebb onits own, just as with Petruccio. But the pain had never dulled before. It wouldn't ever dull. He just had to carry on.

Prompt: Bad Wine

This was Italia.

And not just that, but it was Firenze.

The rebirth of the world as they had never known it was here, in this city. And it was booming. The streets were bustling with life and color.The grapes were as full as the plates on the table. This meant, as it had always meant, that wine was a staple. And it was often served withdinner.

Ezio stared at the goblet next to his plate, and then to his brother across the table. His brows furrowed, and a slight pout pulled at the cornerof his mouth. Federico, on the other hand, was smirking around a mouthful of food. And it was a smirk that Ezio knew too well. His brotherwas taunting him, and from the way their eyes would keep fliting between each other and the goblet, Ezio knew it had to do with the wine.And Ezio wasn't about to touch it.

He heard their father clear his throat, before calling his name. “Ezio,” Giovanni said, his voice gentle, yet commanding. “Eat. Or drink. One ofthe two. Do not just stare at it. I assure you, neither will bite.”

Ezio bit the inside of his lip, but didn't take his eyes off his smug, older brother, who had just shoveled another fork-full into his mouth. Henarrowed his golden eyes at the older boy, and grit his teeth as he fought not to drink. But every bite he took would betray him. He soonfound himself craving something to wash it down with. Stubbornness was a trait in the Auditore family, and Ezio was not about to letFederico get the better of him. It was hard. It was so hard.

Welp, he couldn't do it. His plate was nearly empty by the time he caved, however. He supposed it was long enough. And he hoped to godhis brother wouldn't be so godless as to poison him. Right? With a groan, he decided that he should forfeit. He grabbed the goblet, anddrank, Federico staring at him all the while with that expectant grin.

The wine was awful. Dear god, what was in it? It was far too bitter and foul. It offered no releif, and if anything made his mouth all the moreparched. Ezio's face contorted in an expression of disgust. It must have been quite the face, as he could feel his father and mother's stareboring into him. No doubt his mother's hand was resting at her collar bone in a look of shock. Then there was Federico's cackle resoundingin his ears, like the howl of a hyena.

But that yowling laughter was short lived, and became more of a yelped gurgle as the older Auditore boy found the wine in his face,splashing into his own mouth. After a few hacking spits, Federico regain enough composure to stare back at his younger brother, who hadstood from his seat, poised with his thrust wine goblet, and the most indignant expression on his little face.

Federico might have supposed it was worth it, until that goblet knocked the side of his head, sending him rolling onto the floor.

All Ezio remembered next was his mother screaming their names before dragging both of them to their rooms by the sides of their ear.

SIBRAND

Prompt: The Afterlife

Once there was a time when he considered himself a God-fearing man, an honest man, a good man. He'd grown up on the tales of heroes,and what happened to good men. How they would find themselves in an eternal paradise as a reward for their handsome deeds. He knewof what his mother would tell him lurked in the forest, waiting to snatch up bad little children, and how those things feasted upon the bonesof bad men. And he knew the souls of those men would suffer for eternity; a fate of being ripped apart over and over and over again, and thatwas just the surface.

There was more than enough incentive to grow up and be a good man, in the name of God. An eternal paradise was surely much betterthan the alternative. However, Sibrand saw it as just a perk. He had always wanted to live a good life, be a man of note, and his name carrythrough the family with praise of just what a good man he was. Perhaps it was only so he could gaze down from the heavens and smile atthe work he did. If he lived his life well and honorable, there would be something waiting for him. Maybe that was why he had no qualmsabout dying.

He didn't remember exactly when it was the truth came to him. The epiphany the Apple had shown them was soul crushing. But there wasno soul to crush. And with the realization that there was really nothing to live toward, it was as if that non-existent soul had been ripped fromhis chest. When the world around you shattered, and you realized that everything you had ever known was a lie, it was hard to pick up thepieces. But Sibrand found himself trying, and struggling to do so. After all, life itself was all he had, now. He had to fight for his glory. He hadto fight for his name. He had to fight to keep that precious life. It didn't matter anymore whether he was a good man, or a bad man. All thatmattered was that he gained the power to ensure he lived. After all, nothing waited for him after the icy grip of death. Nothing at all.

Prompt: MEIN GOTT

“Mein gott!” Sibrand hissed. Instinctively, he threw a hand upward to shield his face from the sudden and intense ray of sunlight that had been reflected in his direction. It had nearly caused him to topple off the back of his horse. And that could have been particularly disastrous.

“deSable,” he called the Frenchman in front of him, and the tone in his voice was none too amused, “Would you put a helmet on?” The request was murmured, and scathing, however, Robert managed to catch it. The glare he launched in the German’s direction was as fierce as it was short lived, replaced by a condescending smirk.

Sibrand averted his eyes. de Sable might have obliged him this time, but he knew he’d pay for his comment later.