[ open ] freedom hangs like heaven

[cesar]

Date & Time: anytime in September
Location: all the places
Characters: Cesare Borgia and YOU
Summary: Cesare knocks on certain people's doors or otherwise trawls the city, all formats are fine by me!
Warnings: n/a

Fortune favors not the bold, but the early bird, the night owl, the one who sleeps not. She favors those who know precisely where to aim before the enemy even rouses himself from sleep, from pleasure. It takes only one shot to make or break one's fortune, yet there is so little time and so much to learn, too many red herrings to eliminate.

Only five more years until his twenty-sixth year.

Cesare spends so little time in his room when he isn't bathing or sleeping (sadly still a necessity), usually returning home as the night sky grows brighter and leaving just before noon to start his nocturnal wanderings again. But when he is home, he keeps to himself, silent as a ghost and as absent as if he isn't there at all.

He gives training only the requisite number of hours, because strength and force will never be his advantage. This he already knows. Better that he deals in stealth and information, in learning more about this world to figure out which strings to pull if he were to secure his and his mother's freedom. The Initiative's intent to overthrow the tyrant is a fool's errand so he would lend it little assistance unless the mission keeps him in their good books or aids his eventual escape.

Otherwise Cesare can be found in the city, cloaked in black velvet with the hood drawn up to hide his face. But even his attire would easily betray him, since his vanity would not allow him to dress in rags to hide himself better, and the sword on his hips gleam too brightly against the dismal surroundings. His hand grips the hilt warily as he moves from one shop to another, seemingly in search of something. He would be careful not to reveal his intent while there is another customer in the room, pretending to browse the goods on display, unless they catch him in the middle of a discussion with the owner. Then they might overhear words such as maps and pearls and bullets being discussed.

 

Comments

[beardedflannel]

[ Interesting... ]

How?

[cesar]

[ He pulls out a short knife from his side. A stiletto. ]

I was told to always carry two blades.

[beardedflannel]

[ Hips push off the edge of the counter. Joel takes a step forward and holds out a hand to see the knife for himself if Cesare will let him. ]

Two's better than none. You only ever fight with a blade?

[cesar]

[ Cesare allows it, even flipping the blade over to offer Joel the blunt end. ]

Cannons are said to be dishonorable.

[beardedflannel]

[ Taking it, the blade is turned over, this way and that. He brings it up for closer inspection, tests the point at the flick of his nail. ]

Killing anythin' or anyone period is dishonorable, but you do what you have to to survive. To keep the people you love safe.

[cesar]

[ The knife is sharp and, in this instance, clean. One might even mistake it for being unused still. ]

Do you care much for honor?

[beardedflannel]

[ Handle out, Joel hands it back to him. ]

I'm livin' in a dog-eat-dog world back home. There ain't much room in it for honor.

[cesar]

[ He takes it back and carefully sheathes it. It's very sharp, as he should know. ]

We simply maintain the illusion of it.

[beardedflannel]

Like I said, you do what you gotta.

[cesar]

Here as well?

It seems wise to secure our every advantage when it comes to weaponry.

[beardedflannel]

Here as well.

[ Joel nods. ]

In order to use said weaponry you're gonna need to be taught. That's why you're here, yeah?

[cesar]

[ Cesare smiles, almost showing teeth. ]

Precisely. Would you have preferred I speak so frankly?

[beardedflannel]

Best to keep that in mind for the future, boy.

[ Faint smirk. ]

[cesar]

[ He scowls now at being called boy but all in good humor. ]

It is often dangerous to be so easily read.

[beardedflannel]

Only if you have plans on knifin' someone.

[cesar]

Or if you suspect you might be knifed by said someone.

[ Using nouns as verbs modern-people style aw yeah. ]

[beardedflannel]

[ Watch, Cesare, as those hazel eyes of his eye you up and down. ]

I reckon I can handle them.

[cesar]

I am unsure if I can handle you, however.

[ That's sort of a compliment. ]

[beardedflannel]

[And Joel takes it as such, brow lifting shortly.]

How 'bout we concentrate on gettin' you started with guns first.

[cesar]

[ Cesare nods, crossing his arms in front of him and stepping closer. Show him the trick, Joel. ]

[beardedflannel]

We'll start you off with somethin' a little small, it being your first time and all.

[ Off he goes into the other room to retrieve his pack. Joel returns a minute later and sets it on the counter. The pack is missing the metal pipe (if Cesare remembers it from their first meeting) as it's one of the weapons he prefers to keep near his bed should he need to reach for it in the middle of the night to swing at anyone who dares to trespass.

From off of his hip, Joel pulls his pistol out of its holster. He pulls the magazine free and lays it on the counter in front of Cesare before reaching for his revolver and doing the same, unloading the six bullets out of the chamber, putting it down onto the counter. Nope, don't need the gun to be loaded, not in the hands of someone who has no idea how to use one and might even be trigger-finger-happy.

Should Cesare ask about any of the other weapons he notices, Joel will answer anything about them. This is, after all, a lesson in twenty-first century weaponry.

Joel waits to see what the younger man will do then, watching him. ]

[cesar]

[ Cesare can be trigger happy, but that part of his personality usually comes in the presence of other Italians. Joel feels more like a neutral party, just a mentor. Not that it means his fingers won't itch to touch all the fancy weapons being laid out to tempt him. He stands no chance against most temptation, much like his father, perhaps.

He picks up the small one and the magazine, weighing both in his hands and squinting at every detail. They are heavier than he expected. ]

Arrows can only reach so far. What of bullets?

[beardedflannel]

Depends on the firearm. A shotgun bullet won't get far but it ain't meant for long range, it's more of a...

[ Letting his explanation trail off Joel pulls his shotgun free. The weapon comes up, aimed in Cesare's face. But he takes three steps back before the younger man can go to knock the barrels away. ]

From here, I shoot you and there ain't gonna be anyone who'll recognize what's left of you face. [ Then the shotgun is lowered to Cesare's chest level. ] And here, you're gonna wanna pray the bullet hits your heart and kills you instantly, knocks you flat on your ass, or else you're gonna have a slow death from the shrapnel cuttin' into your lungs, bleedin' you from the inside out.

[cesar]

[ Cesare tries to step out of the shotgun's way, feeling entirely uncomfortable with staring into those barrels even without knowing what guns can do. He has a good idea of cannons and figures guns are only miniatures of those, therefore equally gruesome. He is still smirking however, slowly placing the small gun and the magazine back on the table so his hands are free to hold that shotgun. ]

Be sure to aim for my heart and aim well.

[beardedflannel]

[ Joel's brows furrow. He gives Cesare an odd look because what the hell are those words. ]

You're here to learn your way around guns, not teach me flowery poetry or whatever the hell it is you just said.

[ A small scowl twists his lips, but he slowly holds out the shotgun (after he emptied it of the two red bullets capped in bronze). ]