All You've Got To Do is Win

[Malfattore Gallo]

Like hell he realized what happened would never be another aspiring event in his lifetime. What was left of it, at least. He did lead on his reeling mind, in fact, his steps were in resonance with the pounding in his ear, the hollow clicks on the cobblestone roofs he had just taken refuge on, and without many guards in the area outside the last town he visited. Now that the house of Chigi had only control of Italy, he was safe for the most part, as they were unlikely to be centered around such settlements, as swarmed as it was to his mind's eye. It took him several trips around bent paths, but eventually he found his footing by directing himself with the tower he was so infatuated with ever since his first day passing through. He hadn't exactly seen the building itself, but only seen the stack of hay near it, and put the two together, the eagle swarming around the bar that served a perfect place to observe the world below. Soaring as high as the birds engraved in his heart and his clothing, of which was fluttering in the breezes as he climbed higher by his sore hands, glancing back almost every roof he took to assure himself no one was following suit. There it was. The bars and small ledges on the single side of the looming tower was daunting, and he fathomed it within minutes as his worn muscles worked harder now, having gone by street and not the skies in such a long time. "Andiamo," he urged himself on, leaving him even more breathless, though as he pulled up over the edge with a final groan. The flat platform with slightly raised walls that he'd rather slumber in with little time to wander. Sunset skies were always beautiful. The round earth no longer seemed like the sphere it was, but the maps. Small, white puffs of cotton like clouds still did not ebb. Rather, they reflected the distant seas' water and the red glow around them. Blue at the horizon still reminded him it was day, but the yellow that radiated from it and the orange surrounding added to the crisp water. Taking a deep breath, he crouched onto the wooden bar protruding from the high point of the tower, and with no hesitation, he ran from it until he felt the currents of air under his feet rather than solid ground.

Malfattore cast an eagle's shadow, the buzzing of the wind through his fastened hood more exciting than ever as he aimed for the water off the port. The underwater buffets soon caught him in their choking grasp, weaving their watery droplets into his clothing. Clambering from the bay, many people that stumbled in the late hours held murmurs under their bated breath, but he held himself on the dry lands with his equipment still dangling, a clatter as he went with smooth steps to overlook the bay, too.

Drip, drop, drip.

tag : open!
words : 500
muse : venice rooftops, flight over venice & help i'm alive
notes : <3!

[Unknown]

The night air was crisp and fresh, thanks to the night air and the mist coming of the sea. Tamara had managed to sneak out of the Castle quietly, discreetly, wrapped up in the cloak her lover had given her the morning after they had met. He had taken her to the Castle, to be his mistress, and she was to have anything she desired, which was to escape her room for a little bit. She stood on the edge of the pier, staring out into the darkness that was the sea. She heard the late nighters come across the street and pass her without a second glace in her direction. She turned and began walking back towards the general direction of the Castle, dawdling to spend more time by herself. She spotted someone up ahead, and distant drip of water. She approached him cautiously, and lowered her hood. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked, her gentle nature coming out. She could just see in the dim light that the sound of water dripping was him, wet but from what, she didn't know.