nebulacrum
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How many years had they danced this waltz now without knowing it? How many more years would it take before one of them would bend like a performer mid concierto, deft and illustrious? They were both too stubborn, too proud to go back on their word now.
Too scared. It was so easy to lose everything they had.
A waltz of sentimentality, indeed.
[A retelling spanning many years from the events of Carnevale onwards to the end of the Borgia, detailing the ever developing relationship of Ezio and Leonardo.]
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A Moment in Serenity by nebulacrum
Fandoms: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil
19 Oct 2025
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Occasionally in their frequent tussles with the locals and everything else, the rosary would untuck itself with the constant jostling - though the low cut of Luis’ unbuttoned shirt certainly helped its escape. Having a keen eye for antique treasures, Leon would find his sight trained on it when it appeared before Luis would tuck it away again, like it was never there.
The chain is old and embedded with dark, marbled beads, probably a Navarro heirloom. The crucifix itself is a burnished silver like his rings, but it hasn’t been buffed out in a while from forgetfulness, and its edges and crevices have begun to blacken. Leon thinks the condition of the rosary speaks volumes about the man wearing it.
Luis ends the prayer on another drag of his cigarette, then taps away the ash. It’s a movement that is strangely reminiscent of lighting candles, in its own strange way.
[A quiet moment between Leon and Luis stirs up old memories.]
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He’s spent a whole lot of nights like this, laid out on his back thinking about that fucking prick of a partner that he hates to admit he still cares about, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have so much to drink from the bar earlier on. Louis made a cocktail with just the right amount of lemon to sour a mood, and just the right amount of salted olive to induce nostalgia like a drug.
The first sip instantly made him think about Bradley. He can hear his voice clear as a bell asking him to make time to talk. The taste of gin and vermouth lingering on his lips… the only kiss he’s known in years.
Louis named the drink after the hotel, Dusk.
Dusk, like the sun setting on a bad day. Somehow Louis managed to nail the taste of what it’s like to have another man on your tongue.
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“Best be careful. The others might accuse you of favouritism.”
“Should I deny a truth to them then?”
Altaïr chuckles breathlessly till it fades out into a relieved sigh. From the incline of his head Malik sees nothing but a flash of teeth, owing the hood.
Sometimes they know exactly how to treat each other, and other times they were too afraid of regressing back to hatred that they played overly and awkwardly careful. More often than not, in moments of anger they would still grate each other's nerves till they were both sore. Their dialogue is not restricted by the audience of the celebration further away, but Malik thinks they are still to learn the intricacies of casual conversation.
[Altaïr and Malik navigate a new Brotherhood, each with their old haunters.]
Series
- Part 3 of Right and Left
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“That is quite the scar for a Novice not yet permitted to carry weapons. It puts some of mine to shame.”
Altaïr keeps his eyes forward and not up at the towering man above him. His eyes are level with the red sash tied just above his waist, and he looks at all the knives and blades adorning the belts.
“It was a punishment for speaking out of turn.”
“Given by whose hand, may I ask?” He says finally, tilting Altaïr’s chin to begin shaving.
“By the only one here allowed to bestow punishment.”
[Young Altaïr and Faheem Al-Sayf talk of fatherhood.]
Series
- Part 1 of Right and Left
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