Tumblr has denied me a notif about you answering my ask. Very rude. Anyway i Big Care Mosca and Ash now and ending on Ash calling Mosca kadan took me Out. Pls tell me about their one-sided enemies-to-friends speedrun (or anything else you wanna), I'm all ears (P.s. it doesn't matter when you answer this, could be a while from now and I'd still be interested, i don't wanna drag you into typing up essays for me if you've got more pressing things to put your energy towards!!)
haha, my evil plan to inflict my blorbo feelings on my friend has been a success!! I am an evil genius!! (also, I appreciate the concern, but don't worry, I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. this brainrot is terminal)
okay, the one-sided enemies-to-friends speedrun, aka the first week or so Mosca and Ash knew each other. I'm gonna try my best to make this readable and coherent and not go off on long tangents, but where the story of the first udaak fight took place mostly over a single session, this story spans many, and draws a lot more on both characters' backstories, so it's probably gonna be a bit more scattered. and longer. definitely longer.
So this story actually starts many months ago (both in and out of game), when Ash first got pulled through a portal from his home world of Thedas to... somewhere else. See, this game is a multiverse game, with characters drawn from a variety of different worlds who ping around the multiverse working to stop chaos on the behalf of a strange group of mutiversal entities called The Quanta. Now, I wasn't there when the game started, so all this information comes courtesy of my good friend who plays Ash. Ash took this transition outwardly pretty damn well, but inwardly... he'd been raised in an anti-magic cult (which is a gross oversimplification of things, but a full explanation would be long and complicated, so this will do), taken from the only home he'd ever known, was now stuck with people who he previously would've considered purposeless things, didn't speak the language particularly well (apparently even worse than currently) and was constantly surrounded by unsettling, fucked up magic. There was a lot going on for him that he lacked the ability to express or anyone he trusted enough to express it to. So he kinda just... sat with it, until slowly things got better. He learned to trust and care about the people he was with, he learned to be less scared of magic (some of the later involved talking to a Skyrim dragon which I wish was a joke but is not).
So time goes on, and we jump forward to the moment Mosca joined the party. See, Mosca also unexpectedly got pulled through a portal, but Mosca got pulled through a portal in the middle of a fight. As in, they were fighting, and a portal appeared and swept towards them, and then on the other side of the portal the party was also in a fight. Which means their introduction to Ash is watching him in a rage use the skull of an undead to kill another undead. It was... memorable to say the least, but not necessarily in a good way (yes Mosca also killed a bunch of undead in that fight, yes one of those kills involved violent decapitation, I never said they weren't a hypocrite).
So Mosca is introduced to the multiverse, and let's just say they don't take the change gracefully. They're not as scared of magic as Ash was (or is), but they don't like it and they don't trust it, and they are suddenly surrounded by it. They had also spent the last six months without seeing another living person, and the change to suddenly being with a party at all times is jarring to say the least. By their second day they're curled up outside a tavern having a panic attack. And the one who ends up sitting with them is Ash. See, Ash understands what it's like to struggle with the transition and sees a lot of himself in Mosca. It's cathartic for him to have someone else who doesn't trust magic, and he has a lot of empathy for them.
Mosca, on the other hand, does not trust him in the slightest. Ash is Big and Strong and Very Clearly A Threat. This is unfortunately and accidentally only amplified by an interaction maybe two days into knowing each other? After another fight in which Mosca is triggered to hell and back by the smell of gunpowder (backstory thing), they end up screaming at Ash to fuck off when he attempts to help. Ash actually takes this fine, but Mosca, once they calm down, is afraid they've made him hate them, which they need him not to do only because their patron is starting to make it clear that they're going to be stuck with these people for at least the foreseeable future. So Mosca goes to apologize. Ash waves the apology off, but in the process of trying to explain why an apology isn't necessary because he understands what they're going through, he ends up explaining what happens to mages in the cult that he was raised in. I'm... not going to explain here because it's... uncomfortable and a bit graphic, but suffice to say, Ash does explain. And Mosca, who previously had been hunted for having magic, takes this very, very badly. In their mind now Ash is a ticking time bomb, that will explode into violence the moment he figures out that they have magic (which they have been attempting to hide... poorly).
So this is where the one-sided enemies-to-friends comes in, because Mosca is convinced that there is a very real possibility of Ash killing them at some future date, while Ash could not be more chill. Mosca is in the corner plotting way to try and fight him if necessary while Ash is just like "neat, new companion, they seem like they might be cool". He is completely unaware that Mosca is terrified of him until...
Well, while traveling the party found a massive, and massively magical, skull, and some of the party decided to fuck around inside said skull and then came out with funky colored eyes and temporary magical bonuses and Mosca, well... kinda snapped.
"Grave of the gods, you're all insane! The only one here who has any sense is him" pointing to Ash, "and he-"
And there they very abruptly cut off, suddenly aware that you shouldn't accuse someone of plotting to kill you. Because either you are right, and they will, or you are wrong, and because of the accusation they then might.
"And he what?" Ash asks. Mosca makes no reply at all, just silence. The party eventually moves on. That night at camp Ash tries again.
"Do we have a problem?"
And Mosca, in one of the worst lies in their life, just says, "No."
Ash is, of course, not fooled by this, but understands there's no trying to talk to them about it now. He's patient. He can wait.
He doesn't have to wait long, because this is where the speedrun comes in. I can't remember the exact timeline, it might've been that night, it might've been a few days later, but not long after all that, Mosca has a dream. They've had a few interactions with the patron, but up to this point their patron hasn't been particularly direct, not since the making of the pact. They are, after all, dying. Their communications have been sparse to nonexistent. But Mosca gets a dream from their patron, where they end up in a cabin sitting across from them, as their patron explains that there are no more living people in their home world. The only thing left are the undead. That's why six months passed without Mosca seeing anyone else. There was no one else to see. Mosca's quest to save their world from the undead has unequivocally failed. And their patron does set them on the path to fixing thing, pointing them in the direction of, essentially, time travel. Reverse time to a point before the undead curse happened and then make sure it doesn't. But in the moment, Mosca can really only focus on the overwhelming weight of their failure and being the last survivor from their whole world.
After this dream they spend two hours alone on watch, stewing in all these feelings. And then the end of their watch comes, and they wake their replacement, who happens to be Ash. And they should just go back to bed, but. They can't. How in the world do you even begin to process something like that?
Well, for Mosca, they ended up spilling it to Ash, just to say it out loud to someone. It's disjointed and awkward and not at all the whole picture, but they tell him they can't go home. That they're the only one left. And he responds by telling them he can't go home either. The cult he grew up in would kill him on sight if they ever found him. And when Mosca explains that they never hated him but that they were scared of him, that they've been running for years from people who want them dead, Ash says that they're part of the group now, so he's going to protect them, and that their problems are the group's problems, and if those people show up, they'll take care of it. And Mosca, in the grip of grief and desperate for any comfort or reassurance, believes him. Maybe not fully, maybe not completely, not yet, but enough to understand that he's not a threat to them, and that he understands what it means for them to have lost their home and be surrounded by magic they're uncomfortable with. And they stand with him on watch for the next couple of hours, but they do so not wearing their mask. The symbol of their paranoia and lack of trust.
Because no matter what else happens (and so much has happened since then) Mosca and Ash's trust in each other is complete and unshakable. For all that Mosca doesn't trust themself, and for all that they believe that Ash shouldn't trust them, he does. And for all that Mosca is a terrible, suspicious bastard who trusts no one, they trust Ash. That, more than anything else, is the foundation for all that has come since, and no matter how often they argue (and boy have they argued), that trust still stands unbreakable.
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"Amore mio, we cannot keep doing this." Ezio paced across the wooden floor, running his hand through his hair. It was entirely dark out, and the room was lit by a single candle on the table. "You were gone two full days! I practically turned this city upside-down looking for you!"
"How was I supposed to know I was still seeing things!? I genuinely thought it would wear off before now!" Desmond was sitting in a common room chair; the dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by his washed out complexion. He had just come from a bath, otherwise he would still be coated in sweat and hay. "I thought after a few weeks everything would just go back to normal! Well. . ." Desmond gestured around at the Renaissance assassin's guild hall. "Normal being relative, and all."
Ezio pulled a chair over by Desmond and sat down, picking at the stray straws of hay still glued to Desmond's skin. "I know that you are just trying to keep active, but please. If I get another report of you passing out in an alley, or landing in the river, I swear to Christo I will go gray." He stopped and cupped his hands around Desmond's face. "Don't do this to me, Desmond. I'm too young for gray hair."
"Oh don't worry, it'll be just as popular with the chicks as ever." Desmond gave a *swish* of his imaginary long locks, but the motion made his head spin. He braced his arms against the table. "Though I personally have less interest in the grandpa-type."
"Molto bene, that means you should have a personal investment in not causing me any more stress!"
"You think it's stressful for you? You're not the one running an imaginary Boston Marathon every other weekday!" Desmond scoffed, and laid his head down on the table in such a way as to still be able to give Ezio the stink eye.
"You know that isn't how I meant it. I just wish I could convince you to stay safe." Ezio rocked his chair back, and set his heels on the corner of the table. "At the very least, until we have some kind of answer as to when these episodes occur, or why."
Desmond gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "What if we never get any such answer? What little I know about bleeds is that I originally got them from using the Animus. Except now, I've somehow traveled back through time, so who even knows what kind of effects that could cause."
Ezio pressed a finger to his forehead. "Wait a moment. What is the Animus?"
"Seriously? It's the device that showed me your memories. We talked about this a few days ago."
Ezio removed his feet from the table and sat upright, eyeing Desmond suspiciously. "And when was this again, exactly?"
"Why? I. . . I guess it was four days ago, now, so Thursday? I remember it was raining."
Ezio bit his lip and grimaced, then giving a deep exhale placed a gentle hand on Desmond's leg. "I had a contract in Forlì that day."
"No, no. You're kidding." Desmond pushed off of the table and sank down into the wooden chair, as if it could absorb the impact of this new revelation for him. Ezio couldn't have imagined Desmond getting any paler, but he had. "No. No no no no no Ezio I -"
"Hey, it's alright, you're alright, I just need you to breathe." Desmond was badly shaken by this point, and his legs had given out, leaving him sinking to the floor. Ezio grabbed hold of his shoulders, trying to ease his downward descent.
Desmond's voice cracked. "No, no, it's not alright!" He grabbed Ezio back, desperate for some kind of tether. "How can you stand there and tell me it's alright, just after telling me that you may not even be here!?!?"
"I am here, though. I'm here." Ezio wrapped his arms tightly around Desmond, holding him as close as he possibly could. What else could he do? "Just try to breathe."
And so the two sat there, as the candle burned down to a stump. Slowly, Desmond's shaking turned to shuddered breathing, which turned to deep breaths.
Ezio rubbed Desmond's shoulders. "It may not be much longer until daybreak. Do you think you are ready to try for some sleep?"
Desmond slumped forward, burying his face in Ezio's chest. "Honestly? I think I'm too exhausted to make it to bed. Here seems fine."
Ezio chuckled. "For you, perhaps, but I am a creature of comfort." With one of his arms still wrapped around Desmond's back, he slid the other one under Desmond's knees and stood up, carrying him off towards the bunks.
Desmond wrapped his arms around Ezio's neck. "My hero," he sleepily crooned.
"Don't sing my praises just yet, amò." Ezio shifted Desmond's weight, fumbling to turn the doorknob. "I may expect you to return the favor one day."
"What?!" Desmond gasped, playing up the dramatics. " 's not fair, you're much bigger than I am!"
"Is that meant as a compliment or an insult?"
"I dunno yet." Desmond yawned. "I'll decide later, when I need one or the other."
Soon enough, they both had clambered into bed, and were able to get some much needed sleep.
-----
Desmond spent the next few days occupying himself in the base. Besides helping sort through the dispatching of contracts, he got caught them caught up on some long overdue weapons orders and offered advice to whatever young assasin might come knocking. This was his favorite task. It was a reminder of a simpler time, of when he could stand behind a bar and just chat with people about whatever was ailing them. Except this was a little more murder-y. But having been a bartender in New York, it was not so much more murder-y as one might think.
But all the same, he was beginning to feel cooped up. And so he went to seek audience with the Mentorè, about perhaps being allowed on a group mission of some form.
There were two novices already in Ezio's office, a boy and a girl. They were likely discussing the details of an upcoming contract. Having already opened the door, Desmond knocked on the doorframe. Ezio waved him in.
"What can I do for you, Desmond?" Ezio propped his elbows up on the desk and clasped his hands, resting his chin on top of them.
"Oh, it can wait. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Desmond glanced over at the novices, who in fairness, seemed unperturbed.
"So can this. Please, continue." Ezio leaned back in the chair, and the two young assassins stepped to the side.
Desmond cleared his throat. "With your permission, Mentorè," On this word he did a slight bow. Ezio rolled his eyes. "I would wish to be sent on a mission. As part of a group, of course," He hastened to add. "It's just. . . I don't do well feeling confined. And I'm about ready to go stir-crazy in here."
One of the novices smirked. "Is that different from the regular crazy somehow?" He asked. Desmond gave a dry, mocking laugh in response, but then turned back to Ezio and. . . Oh shit.
Desmond always knew that Ezio Auditore da Firenze was a dangerous man. He knew of all his great conquests, and had seen the fear in the eyes of his enemies. And yet somehow, to see the master assassin here and brimming with fury, it felt like the first time he really understood how terrifying such a man could be.
The other novice slapped the first upside the head, and then grabbed him by the wrist. "Thank you for the advice, Mentorè. We will send word as soon as we complete our task," She said, dragging him out the door, which closed firmly behind them.
Ezio took a deep breath, and settled back into his seat.
Desmond shuffled his feet. "Hey, so umm, you wouldn't have actually murdered that kid, right?"
"Fortunately, we will not have to find out." Ezio shot what he assumed was a comforting smile up at Desmond (it wasn't) and then rifled through some papers on his desk. "I actually have a mission that should suit you just fine. It should be straightforward, a matter of some scouting and interrogating a handful of people. There will be two others with you, and you will cover a fair bit of ground. Benè?" Ezio handed over a map with a few directions and way points marked on it.
Desmond nodded. "Yeah, benè. Thank you, Ezio."
"You're welcome. You leave in an hour. And Desmond," He continued, once Desmond had turned to leave. "I know you are highly skilled, but do still be careful."
"I will." Desmond walked back over to Ezio, then kissed him on the cheek and winked. "I promise."
Ezio kicked his boots up on the desk. "Oh, you are such a flirt."
"Well, I come by it honestly." And with that, Desmond left to make preparations.
-----
Desmond was sitting atop a window dormer, watching the surrounding area as another assassin prepared to 'talk to' a gang member in the alleyway below. A third assassin was perched on another neighboring rooftop, similarly spying for any potential complications. This was the method they had all decided on, and it had been working quite well. One person would go to meet the target, and the other two would remain above: out of sight so as to not cause any alarm, but close enough to drop into the fray should anything go awry. This was the last one on their list, and then they could all go back and herald their mission as a success.
He scanned the skyline. Besides the other assassin (whose name he had learned was Achille), there was no one visible up here. He peered down into the street. Piera (visible in blue) had just cornered in on the gang member (visible in gold). One or two of their targets had been willing to part with their information before it came to blows, but such instances were few and far between. Piera gave a quick display of her hidden blade, just to make her intentions and alliances clear.
As was typical, the conversation started with an exchange of thinly-veiled threats. "Next will come the unveiled threats, and then the diet violence," Desmond mused to himself.
The target started shouting. Desmond thought he heard another voice. He scanned the rooftops again, and this time saw a pair of guards off in the distance behind him. He looked back at Achille, who did not seem to react. "This again," Desmond muttered under his breath. He shifted to the right, and the guards were gone from his line of sight. "Please let that fix it." He turned back to watching the alley.
"You belong down in the street with the rest of the filth!" The voice was still distant, but it was definitely louder this time.
Desmond sighed. He turned to look behind himself, and saw the two guards from before making their way over, and a third guard climbing up behind them. "Just ignore them, and they'll go away," He said to himself. He turned back to the alleyway.
"Get down off this roof, or I will throw you off myself!"
Desmond scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. I think I'm finished throwing myself off of rooftops because of figments of my twisted imagination."
He heard another shout. This one wasn't from the target, or the illusory guard, but from Achille. "Desmond, look out!"
Desmond spun around, but not quickly enough, because a boot impacted him squarely in the chest, and he fell from the roof.
He desperately reached out, trying to grab hold of something to hang from. His right hand caught the wooden paneling of the window he was sitting above, but the wooden beam was brittle and snapped off, splintering under his fingernails. He yelled, and was unable to grab hold anywhere else.
Desmond's ankle rolled as he hit the ground, and he fell prone. The guard peered from the rooftop above, and apparently for the first time put together the implications of there being three hooded figures together. "Assassinos! Get them!" Well, so much for subtlety.
Piera ran over to help Desmond to his feet, and the gang member bolted. Desmond shook his head, and pulled himself up. "Don't worry about me, I can handle a few guards. Don't let the target get away!" He turned to face the building he had fallen from. The guards were already descending. He shifted his weight, and winced. Running's not an option. He readied his blade.
Desmond lunged at the first guard to get his boots on the ground. He hadn't yet pulled his sword, so Desmond easily grabbed hold of him, sliding the hidden blade between his ribs. Unfortunately, the next two landed with their swords already drawn, and Desmond could hear more footsteps fast approaching. "Shit, how many of you are there?"
He heard a shriek from above, and looked up just in time to dodge a guard falling from the rooftop, an arrow lodged in his chest. He landed with a dull, wet thud. Desmond spared a glance up towards Achille, who was already nocking another arrow. "Oh, this should be a peace of cake, then."
Desmond crossed blades with the two guards closest to him, parrying and deflecting their attacks. One of them leaped forward with an arcing swing of their sword. Desmond dodged under and to the side of the swing, then came around behind the off-balance guard, slitting his throat.
Another shriek, another thud. Desmond easily dispatched his next opponent, sweeping him off his feet and then skewering him where he fell. But the next guards approached together, and Desmond had to shift his focus to defense again.
Shriek, thud. One of the guards tried to bring his sword down on Desmond's head, who used both blades to intersect it. In the sword's reflection, Desmond saw another guard coming from behind him. "I've got you now, assassino!" Desmond shoved his current attacker off and spun around, swinging his blade in a wide arc. But as soon as his blade hit the guard's chest, he disappeared into mid-air.
Desmond growled. "Are yOU KIDDING ME!?!?!"
Shriek, thud.
A low chuckle from one of the guardsmen. "Jumping at shadows, boy? Ready for someone to put you out of your misery?" Desmond turned on his heel and lunged for the unlucky dastard's face, plunging both of the hidden blades deep into his eyesockets.
What few guards remained turned tail and ran.
Shriek, thud. Desmond turned once again to Achille, who was now clambering down the building, bow in hand. "They were already running, y'know."
Achille landed on the street, and shrugged. "They picked the fight. The least they could do is have the decency to see it through."
Desmond chuckled, then rubbed his shoulder. "Well, whether Piera caught the target or not, by now, she'll be heading back to base. We should be, too." He looked down at his swelling ankle. "No crazy parkour shit though."
-----
Ezio was pacing back and forth across the wooden floor, combing his hand through his hair. Piera had gotten back with her report on the mission two hours ago. He had already sent ten otherwise idle assassins out searching for Desmond, and he was deliberating about sending more.
"He has returned!" Came a voice from the door.
Ezio raced to the door. His stomach lurched when he saw Desmond, covered in blood and limping, except. . . He was also smiling? There he was, covered head-to-toe in blood, and grinning ear-to-ear!
"Desmond? Are you. . ." He looked Desmond up and down. Bloody. Beaming. "Did you hit your head?"
"Ezio!" Desmond threw his arms up wide, flinging blood on the assassins unfortunate enough to be standing near him. "No, I'm just fine! Well, I wrecked my ankle, but not nearly so much as I wrecked all of the guards!"
Ezio laughed. "So, you determined that what you needed was catharsis, and that any guard would suffice?"
"Well no, actually," Desmond responded a bit sheepishly. "I let them get the drop on me, believing they weren't real."
Ezio very abruptly stopped laughing. "You WHAT -"
"Can we discuss it later? I know it's a problem, but I'm currently riding a high, and I would like to enjoy it."
Ezio started to object, but instead wrapped an arm over Desmond's shoulders. "Later then." He lifted his arm, and stared in horror at the gloopy mess now dripping from it. "Dio mio, someone needs to give you a bath."
Desmond smirked. "Are you volunteering?"
-----
I don't ever think of myself as a creative person, so I am ABSOLUTELY blaming @sulfies that I have done this again, lol. I hope you enjoyed though! Much less bleed effect whump this time around, and much less re-reading to check that it makes sense, lol. Hyperfixation + insomnia = I wrote another story, but now it's a quarter to six in the morning and I may low-key hate myself tomorrow (today?). Thanks for reading!
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