luckysock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2015-10-09 06:14 pm
luckysock) wrote in bakerstreet2015-10-09 06:14 pm
Daemon AU
DAEMONS
A dæmon is the animal embodiment of a person's inner self - their soul made corporeal. In childhood, daemons can shapeshift; around puberty, they settle into one form which represents a person's personality.
Daemons can talk, are typically of the gender opposite their human, and can't go more than a few yards from their human half. Any pain felt by a person is felt by their daemon, or vice versa, and to touch someone else's daemon is painfully intimate and the greatest taboo.
RNG:
1. meetings (mean snap judgments; what do you think of someone with a snake soul?)
2. fight scenes (are a lot more badass with a lion at your side, or tricky when your weak spot is a poodle)
3. rescues (are difficult if your daemon can't drag theirs to safety. you won't break the taboo, will you?)
4. cuddling (gets weird when your alligator snuggles up to their rabbit)
5. confined spaces (are more claustrophobic with the risk of touching someone's soul)
6. poor conditions (when your cat can't swim or your dragonfly might freeze)
7. lies (are harder to tell with daemons telegraphing body language)
8. touching (from a torturer is horrifying; from someone intimate, it's powerful)
9. abnormalities (include same-gender daemons, limitless separation ranges, or inhuman lack of a daemon)
10. suddenly (everyone has daemons. they didn't before. what the hell.)
Want to rehash a canon scene, now with daemons? Make up your own prompt? Just here to dump your "why X has Y animal" in a toplevel? Go nuts.
no subject
Rahd-oon-hah-kyeh-doon.
[He says it slowly and carefully, reaching up to pet Sixsipita gently along the muzzle. The thick tail curls around his neck like a fluffy, striped scarf.
Venice. Glassworks. Canals. Nothing else really sticks out in his mind, and it probably should, but then the name does, from his lessons.]
Ezio di Auditore? What year is- I have no idea how to ask the date.
[He looked for something he could use to try and convey what he meant, but there was nothing apparent.]
Marzo? Is that March? Date. What is the date?
no subject
Rahd-oon—hah-kyeh [Leonardo takes a breath before trying again, quicker and with fewer flaws:] Ratonhnhaké:ton. [Still, some nervous laughter bubbles from him.] Mi scuso, I have not before.... met such a name? I will keep trying!
[The smile he'd gotten for attempting was reward enough, Leonardo pleased it seemed to make the other feel the same.] Yes! Ezio Auditore da Firenze.
[When Conner goes off asking questions, looking around for something to explain, Cesare seems to catch on sooner than his human, and makes his way to the far wall, scratching wildly at it.]
Cesare— [He nearly scolds before the thought hits him.] Ah! It is Marzo, yes! Come, look, [Though looking takes a moment, because as he leads them to the wall coated in maps and drawings and other parchments, it takes some digging to find his calendar to show Connor, a bold 1489 written beside the month.]
Do you feel well, amico? [He asks with a perhaps surprising deal of concern for someone newly acquainted.] Have you, ah.... traveled from far? [It's his thinking that maybe Conner's tired from getting here, or from being lost—why else would he be asking the date and belatedly about Ezio?]
no subject
It is Kanien'kéha, my people, in America.
[And bless dæmons, Cesare gets it. And then he gets Sixsipita pouncing down on him to explode and look over him, clever fingers trying to groom as a way to say hello.
Ratonhnhaké:ton ignores his dæmon's antics and looks at the wall, swallowing hard.]
Fourteen eighty nine. Three hundred years, nearly. But... it must have been the elder's relic. This is the year? Fourteen eight nine?
no subject
[Surprise finds Cesare then, at Sixsipita's sudden decent, and he squirms only for a moment before realizing this is grooming. The angle proves difficult but, after a few tries and some repositioning, he returns the greeting with nuzzling laps.
Leonardo regards their dæmons with a chortle, looking to Ratonhnhaké:ton after, only for that bright smile to dim at the assassin's bemusing words.]
Sì, [He confirms with a nod and even a tap of his finger on the paper next to the year.] It is March 1489. Please, come sit and explain your thoughts. [Lowering the papers and covering the calendar up, the blond gestures and moves towards the table behind them.] Would you care for something to drink? Water? Vino?
no subject
The explorer hasn't returned yet. He won't for several years. They don't know about his lands.
He sits down somewhat heavily on a stool, hands dropping to his lap. Sixsipita looks up at him, paws stilling in Cesare's fur before bounding back to grab onto the trailing coat and clamber back up, curling around Ratonhnhaké:ton's neck and shoulders.]
I- um, water. Please. May I use your parchment and charcoal?
no subject
But it matters not; Ratonhnhaké:ton is apart of the Order, a friend no matter his recent arrival, and Leonardo has no intention to treat him otherwise. Cesare is no different, following after Sixsipita and attentively sitting just a few hops away from their visitor's boot.]
Sì, sì, just a moment. [He smiles again, soft and kindly, gently clapping his hands together before turning and heading into the back room. The paint speckled hare moved then as well, to a corner cluttered with rolls of canvas and varying stacks of writing materials.]
I have ink and quill, should you prefer? [Leonardo calls as Cesare returns to Ratonhnhaké:ton with parchment in maw, proffering it by standing on his hind legs.] It would be much easier to write with. [He returns with a wooden cup near brimming with water, setting it at the table on his way to his desk.]
no subject
No, I plan on drawing. I am not very good, but I hope you will recognise the object.
[He starts sketching. A sphere, with strange markings, a bit of rough shading to try and show the glow.] Achilles called it a Piece of Eden. Do you know that is?
[He slides to parchment to Leonardo, nodding his thanks for the water and rising to go and drink it.]
no subject
Ah— [Leonardo freezes as he takes the sheet in hand, knitting his brows at the design. Ezio had always placed his confidence in the artist, who had always kept his friends secrets... well, secret. But was there any harm in sharing common knowledge?] It appears to be similar to The Apple, sì, but, [His head shakes gently.] These lines you've drawn are different. Though only slightly.
[He regards the sketch for a few moments longer, tilting it as well as his head, feathering over alternate lines with his fingertips while he mutters more and more gaily.] È possibile? Che vi sia più di uno? Sarebbe ... scandaloso. Eppure ... incredibile!
Ratonhnhaké:ton, [Leonardo turns back to him, pointing to the sketch.] This Piece of Eden—does it have another name? What is it made of? Is it— [His tone hitches, changes from energetic to solemn.] You don't have it with you, do you?
no subject
I have seen two. One is held by my people, it has been since the Mother Spirit made our tribe. The Clan Mother uses it to communicate with the spirits. The spirit showed me visions, told me to go and become an Assassin.
The other one was held by a man who began to have nightmarish visions, where the sphere, what you call an Apple, beguiled him into becoming a dictator. He feared what he may do if he kept it, so he gave it to me. I hurled it into the ocean from my ship, so it could not fall into Templar hands.
The one I have drawn is the one of my people. I picked it up and there was a flash of light and I was in this city, this time. I do not have it with me, however. When I opened my eyes, it was gone.
[Stranding them here, hundreds of years in the past.]
no subject
It's all enough, for possibly the first time in Leonardo's life, to silence him. If only for a few moments anyway. Torn between wanting to write all this down and ask about the Mother Spirit and how the clan mother speaks with spirits, other thoughts push past them when he starts making connections. The drawing falls to the table, hands busying with petting Cesare again.
Ratonhnhaké:ton was no longer in possession of his people's relic, both thankfully and not, and...] Wait, wait, wait— [Shaking his head, Leonardo takes a quick breath.] You were in America, with your Piece of Eden, and suddenly you were in Venezia, in.... "this time"? [The gears were turning in his head, spinning up from the previous deluge. The process is clear on his face, but it really only leaves him with more questions than solid answers.
Which is why he sounds skeptically perplexed when he asks:] What did you mean earlier, when you said 300 years?
no subject
Some items of Edem can... change things. Move people. Through time. To me, this is three hundred years in the past. Europe will learn of America's existence in a couple of years, when some explorer returns. Columbus? He is trying to find a way to the far East. Instead, he will find my lands and people.
[He doesn't try and convince Leonardo. It is the truth, however implausible it sounds. He will believe, or he will not.]
no subject
Non posso crederci! [Leonardo is beaming suddenly, nearly aglow with the realization.] Ratonhnhaké:ton, do you know what this means? [He asks as he stands and sets an energetic Cesare down, who hops quickly over and climbs onto the artist's desk to grab a hand bound notebook.]
You are the first American to ever step foot in Europa! Ah, how exciting; I must write this down. [In fear he might just forget amidst all his enthusiasm.] Here, Cesare. [Leonardo kneels down to take the book and fluff the rabbit's fur before going back to the table and flipping through the pages, muttering to himself where to start all this.]
no subject
Yes, I suppose I am.
[ It has brought home just how far away he is from, well, home. Both in space and time. He gathers Sixsipita in his arms so they rest against one another, the raccoon's brow pressing into his cheek and his other hand pressing to the still healing wound in his gut. ]
My mother's mother has not yet been born.
no subject
Leonardo's heart drops to his stomach at the display.] Ah—most likely... [The quiet agreement trails with a soft clearing of his throat. He's gone and done it again: gotten too enthralled in a subject and entirely missed the perspective for someone else. Closing his notes and pushing them away, he picks Cesare up and holds him securely as he burrows, focusing attention back on the assassin.
Perhaps he can help ease him into all this. Or at least provide some distraction.] I do not mean to pry terribly, but your bruises, [A hand moves while he speaks, motioning towards the other's face.] They are fresh, sí? If you are not opposed, I have an ointment that will help the ache and healing.
no subject
Relatively. Some are very fresh, others are simply injuries on injuries. The... I am not sure what word I want. I was injured, by a beam of wood, through here.
[He touches his stomach and then gestures to his back.]
I fell, onto my back. Most of these are just, fists.
[He was used to being hit. People had been hitting him since he was five years old, he's much less concerned about the bruises.]