Assassin's Creed: Chronos (Ezio x OC)

32 - I Will Be There

April 23, 1478

Florence, Italy

It was busy in Firenze despite the somewhat early hour, but thankfully only in terms of shopkeepers and some early buyers. There was a distinct lesser number of guards-no doubt due to the changing of them. Catherine and Ezio were happy to make the most of it, although they still stuck to the back alleys as much as possible. It wasn't feasible the entire way there, and so they made sure to just keep among the crowd as they walked. However, there was a lighter sense of caution with fewer eyes watching, so there was some enjoyment to be had in roaming the city. In fact, Ezio had made a small request to tour a bit while they had some time-after all, Leonardo was not all that far away. The redhead only hesitated briefly before she nodded to him, realizing why. He was home again. Who wouldn't want to see it after two years away? Who knew what had changed or hadn't?

So she followed the young man as he went through the streets, eyes wide and roving everywhere beneath his hood. He was almost like a young child in a candy store, yet it was so much more. He would stop at every stall he knew, and some she recognized from her time there. One was the very small place they would get their sweet bread from to eat after a run. Another was a place he had told her had things Petruccio loved and would ask him to buy. Another was Claudia's favorite cloth market, and then there was where his father and mother went to find cloth or other items like books for the house. She could see the nostalgia clear in his eyes; a misty look as he smiled ever so slightly at each and every place. He even laughed lightly as he reminded her of how they would run along the very roofs above them, although it would be a bad idea now. He even recalled a particular bridge and alleyway where he'd fought Vieri, and wondered how the two of them had come to where they were; one skulking his home like a stranger, and the other dead in the dirt. Not far from there he recalled a spot-some bridge with a clear view of everything-where there was a bench. He had followed his brother to it once, and watched him sit there for hours, just watching; waiting. He had eventually come to realize he waited there for the woman who would never returned, but had left her mark on the bench-an odd name, never to be heard again.

It was hard to watch him like that, but she didn't dare say anything to pull him away from it; she had a feeling that would only make it worse. A part of her knew they needed to start working as soon as possible, but she pushed it aside. He needed this more. He needed to see all this. He needed to remember and be happy, and feel some joy despite what sadness lingered. So she left him be as she continued to follow him along, and only replied as need be or smiled here and there. She just hoped this was helping, but she couldn't be sure. He was smiling, but sometimes she thought it didn't fully reach his eyes. She didn't yet know what to say, though, so she just kept an eye out for more guards and Ezio did what he needed.

Unfortunately, keeping an eye out for others caused her to not mind where he was going, and so she bumped right into his back with a short sound of surprise. She blinked, staring at the dark cape, but he didn't turn around. His focus was straight ahead, and when she leaned around him, she realized why.

It was the Palazzo.

His home.

It was in a sorry state, and the sight of it made her gut clench. More than a few windows had been shattered, and the walls were dirty and faded where it wasn't already chipped. The entry way gate had been forced open and hung ajar. The inside patio was chipped and cracked, and some pieces were gone. Further in, she could see more windows broken and the main door crudely put back into place and in poor shape. She didn't dare imagine what the inside looked like, although she knew deep down it had probably been ransacked. Already statues from outside were missing, so it undoubtedly true. The flags on the walls which had once flown so proudly were shredded, torn, and scorched if not already gone. The Palazzo, which had once been such a place of grandeur no longer retained its luster. It was an empty grave; a silent reminder of what once was.