A Soprano's Notebook

Suzuki Harunobu (Japanese, 1724-1770)

Title: Shuto gunjakuzu

Artist: Ito Jakuchu

Date: 1716 - 1800

Style: Ukiyo-e

Thanks to @thana-topsy for tagging me on this! It was a lot of fun to think about some of this!

I'm pulling from Justitia the most, but don't be surprised if I post from one of my unfinished WIPs or from the (slow going) rewrite.

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

I was actually joking in hopes that the matter would wait until after we got back from vacation to talk about." Greg vented a feigned exasperated sigh as she folded her arms and fixed him a disapproving look. He further slumped in his chair, taking another sip from his scotch trying to hide the mock pout. "But of course not, should have known better. I gotta wonder if you even take breaks after work anymore." "Yeah, it's called a binge-watch of Supernatural with some tequila and imagining Dean Winchester buckass naked in a big tub of liquid caramel going 'lick me.'" Tristan bluntly replied without so much as a blink, earning herself a choke and a cough from Greg.

Prologue—Bad Moon Rising

I've so many scenes I laugh at, sometimes I wonder that I accidentally wrote a romantic comedy. But THIS ONE

Without fail, I always laugh. It's my first. It's the classic

A line from your fic that makes you sad

Something tore at Federico the very moment he caught sight of white robes. At first, he thought he had imagined it amongst the sea of cold faces— because surely there was no other presence besides that of Paola and maybe Volpe (assuming he was even in the city still.)  Still— a tiny hope flickered behind his chest. Perhaps their numbers were not as few as his father suspected initially. But that hope was quickly snuffed and replaced with a dawning horror when he noted how ill-fitting the robes were as they hung loosely around the figure. God, how familiar they were. Nausea struck him when he recognized the design and color scheme of the robes as his father’s. Which could only mean—  He’s not ready. He had heard those words from their father every time he inquired about it. And every time, he would walk out of the suddenly stifling office frustrated and perplexed. Why? Federico always tried to reason. He had been told roughly of their heritage the same age as Ezio is now. What more could he teach without letting it slip that all he had done was for something far grander than wanton youth? Of course, his father never swayed; his word was final, after all, and no doubt their mother had her fair say as well. And thus, he would play the part, acting the big brother, all the while secretly wishing he could admit everything. But now? Of all the days to see his brother adorned in their station—ignorant of both its heavy burden and attached message, it was fated to be Federico’s last. And it was fucking ironic.

Chapter XII This is Not Fantastique

A little bit of a long one, but man. I put my poor dude through the ringer on this chapter. ANGST ANGST ANGST.

A line from your fic you're proud of

Even now, they could hear the clangor of far-off soldiers as they swept up and down the streets. Once, they even had to hurriedly hide in the shadows of a nearby alleyway as a pair of bundled riders came through amongst flurries of snow and creaking leather, their horses’ heads bent low. They had been so close; Tristan had been able to see the whites of their steeds’ rolling eyes and the steam rolling off of their flanks as they cantered down the street, quick to be swallowed by white curtains.

Chapter XIII Exit Music (For a Family)

I think I took a solid twenty minutes on this one because out of 165k words and 24 chapters, I had SO many to choose from. But in the end, this one kept coming back to mind. I'm a sucker for descriptions, y'all.

A line from your fic you think could have been better

Even from afar, the tall and slender beauty had what seemed to be the loveliest of features, despite the paleness of her skin that spoke volumes of how often she left the walls of her family's palazzo.

Chapter II A Not So Good Ol Fashioned Lover Boy (i.e. FEDERICO'S FIRST APPEARANCE)

....it's been a few years, and I feel this could be better written.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

"It's Tristan, and I'm here to help, you jackass," she snapped, too late realizing she should be acting more like the adult than she actually was. Worse still— she cocked a hip, matching his stare as if she was some kind of teenager again. "Duh." Real classy there. She blew the chiding voice off, setting hands on her hips. "Oh?" A brow rose as he stepped forward just a smidge, practically towering over her. She could feel the annoyance and anger rising off of him as they had a little stare down. When his tactic didn't work, his eyes narrowed. "Like you helped Federico? In that case, you can help by leaving." She blinked, and her breath exhaled in one whoosh of air. It was like she had been slapped and visibly flinched. He took advantage of her lapse to shoulder past her, shooting a nasty glare, his voice dripping in venom as he next spoke, "Because I think you've done plenty enough."

Chapter X Take a Chance on Me

Fucking Ezio. But then again, I think most (including me) forget he's a 17 year old thrust into a shit situation. Plus this stranger is just appearing, so I'm not sure I blame him.

Anyway, yeah I wanted to slap him for that one

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

“Your head...” Tristan scooted closer, a hand placed on his cheek to gently turn it. “Did that happen in the fight?” It took her far too long to realize that she was actively touching him.  As a result, she pulled her hand back, pretending to brush imaginary debris out of his hair, looking flustered because of it, but he appeared or at least pretended not to notice as he shrugged. “It’s alright,” he tried not to flinch when he ghosted his own fingers over it. “And... no, I just...” He grew flustered again, and Tristan found the action rather endearing as he started rubbing the back of his head only to mutter, “Uh, bumped it against the ground when the rope was cut.” “When the rop—” She froze as it dawned on her, and she proceeded to stammer, “Oh-oh, God. ‘Rico! I’m so so sorry— I didn’t mean to—” He cut her off with waving hands, trying not to laugh, but failing horribly at it. “Don’t be. I’m alive, aren’t I? You saw to that.” A hand reached over and squeezed her own. A corner of his lip quirked. “Just consider us even now.” Tristan opened her mouth but then shut it as her eyes narrowed. She had the mind to chastise him that hitting his head on a cobblestone street was a much different experience before a calloused hand interrupted that train of thought by gently cupping her chin. Well, she startled owlishly; safe to say she hadn’t seen that coming. Now it was her turn to be the patient as his eyes looked her over. “Although, I am afraid that you haven’t fared much better either. That is a ghastly bruise if I ever saw one,” he murmured, turning her head slightly. Tristan didn’t need to ask for confirmation as to which one he was referring to, for she winced when the skin was pulled tight around her cheek in the action. She noted he appeared melancholic as he dropped his hand. “May I ask as to how you got it?”

Chapter XIV Angel of Small Theft and the Aspirin Scene

I love my two dorks. :)

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

Claudia pursed her lips, but Tristan saw understanding, sympathy even. Her attention flicked briefly downstairs to where they could hear Maria murmuring to what sounded like Annetta. The stony stature seemed to have a crack in it as she spoke next: “Perhaps you could write to her.” Tristan opened her mouth to say that wasn’t quite possible given the current circumstances, but then her mind flashed back to the notebook cozily tucked into her bag. “Perhaps, I should,” she tactfully responded just as they arrived on the second floor.

Chapter XV The Kids Aren't Alright

uhm yes

I've a ton, and finding just ONE is difficult. But I think this one speaks for itself.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

There were letters, she noted. Lots of letters that she respectfully set to the side. One decided to slip out of her hand anyway, opening just enough to reveal a name, Kassandra before she hurriedly closed it again and placed it on top of the neat pile. Even in death, a man was still afforded his privacy, and Giovanni's Assassin affairs were not any of her business, either.

Chapter XIX Alone Together

:) Assassin's Creed Odyssey fans will know this one.

A line from your fic that's shocking

“You’re… not the same age, are you?” She spoke in a hushed tone, unsure if she wanted to hear it. When he shook his head, driving the last nail into the coffin of what little remains there were of her denial, she swallowed. “How... how long ago was it then?” She cleared her throat. “What year?” He furrowed his brows but stayed silent— and after what seemed too long, she wondered if he was going to deny her an answer. She conceded perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe the truth deserved to stay buried, and the both of them could pretend this was nothing more than a misunderstanding and a case of mistaken identity. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat after what felt like forever and a year and answered with a subtle tone of discomfort as if he too realized the sudden weight of his words. “1454.”

Chapter VII Thanks for the Memories (Even if they Weren't So Great)

For those unawares: I write time travel. My story deals with it a lot, on top of righting old wrongs and fixing a bunch of things I think Ubisoft could have done better. My poor OC/Protagonist is the victim of being at the wrong right spot at the wrong right time. But it's not until THIS moment does she (and the audience) realize shit is seriously wack.

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

“There was once a king in search of a new home. He and his men ventured far and wide but could find nothing. One day, he decided to go out for a hunt and released his eagle—a loyal companion— to aid him. He watched as the great bird of prey flew up and up before perching on a ledge high up the cliff face. It was then, the king realized he had found his new home, and do you know what he called it?” She, and her six-year-old self, shook her head. One foot buried deep in denial, and the other in childhood curiosity.

“Aluh amut.”

The placard became more menacing as the word glared at her from its bronze pedestal: Alamut. “But we know it more as ‘Alamut.’” She had scrunched up her nose. “That’s a funny word.” “It’s Persian,” he had smiled in that quiet humor of his, “it means the ‘Eagle’s Nest.’”

Chapter VI With a Little Help from (Surprising) Friends

I wrote this back in 2020? 2021 I think? After 14 years of Asssassin's Creed, Alamut had only been described vaguely and once as a one-off adventure, but never once featured in the games. And that upset me BECAUSE HISTORICALLY SPEAKING ALAMUT WAS THE HOME OF THE PEOPLE WHO— *beats back historical diatribe*

ahem

So! Understandably speaking, imagine my pleasant and utter delight when Assassin's Creed Mirage was announced and the ancient home of the Ḥashashiyan—the real-life inspiration of the games. :)

AND WOW that was a long doozy. I hope you enjoyed!

What do these two famous historical women have in common? They’re related!

I realized while poking through Lucrezia’s family tree, that she is in fact related to Marie Antoinette! To be precise, she is her great, great, great, great, great, great. great. great grandmother!