[ Gone are the sounds and sights and stench of war, the olive groves torched to cinders, the town of Viana strewn with the dead. No longer at the edge of the castle battlements, Ezio stands instead at the edge of the sidewalk, and promptly throws himself back from the curb with an explosive swear of shock.
Passerby seem to ignore him for the most part, just a weirdo in a costume..... y'know, his white robes stained with dirt and gunpowder and men's blood, nbd. Nothing about his surroundings are at all familiar, save for the Coliseum where it rises in the distance, adding to his confusion. Roma? But how?
He looks, for a short moment, like a bird with that confused bob of his white hood, distracted by the unfamiliar noises and strange sights. Then, seeing that someone has laid eyes on him, he approaches with purposeful intent. ]
Excuse me! Wait a moment; what's happened? Where are we?
[ This far from the Tower, that is alllllll in Italian, buddy, terse and hard. He just dropped the Pope's son from a fucking castle, he's in No Mood. ]
carnival - eh, couple weeks later ig
This is...different, than how I remember Carnevale.
[ He glances aside at his companion with a put-upon little grin, then past them to the bright lights of the food stalls here near the entrance, the Tilt-A-Whirl, the Ferris Wheel and other rides beyond. The air is thick with the sticky-sweet scent of candyfloss and roasted meat– recognizable, at least –alongside the low tang of gasoline from the many generators powering lights and rides both. ]small>
Allora...I do not know where to begin. What do you suggest?
Ezio Auditore da Firenze | Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood
[ Gone are the sounds and sights and stench of war, the olive groves torched to cinders, the town of Viana strewn with the dead. No longer at the edge of the castle battlements, Ezio stands instead at the edge of the sidewalk, and promptly throws himself back from the curb with an explosive swear of shock.
Passerby seem to ignore him for the most part, just a weirdo in a costume..... y'know, his white robes stained with dirt and gunpowder and men's blood, nbd. Nothing about his surroundings are at all familiar, save for the Coliseum where it rises in the distance, adding to his confusion. Roma? But how?
He looks, for a short moment, like a bird with that confused bob of his white hood, distracted by the unfamiliar noises and strange sights. Then, seeing that someone has laid eyes on him, he approaches with purposeful intent. ]
Excuse me! Wait a moment; what's happened? Where are we?
[ This far from the Tower, that is alllllll in Italian, buddy, terse and hard. He just dropped the Pope's son from a fucking castle, he's in No Mood. ]
carnival - eh, couple weeks later ig
This is...different, than how I remember Carnevale.
[ He glances aside at his companion with a put-upon little grin, then past them to the bright lights of the food stalls here near the entrance, the Tilt-A-Whirl, the Ferris Wheel and other rides beyond. The air is thick with the sticky-sweet scent of candyfloss and roasted meat– recognizable, at least –alongside the low tang of gasoline from the many generators powering lights and rides both. ]small>
Allora...I do not know where to begin. What do you suggest?