Ask the Borgia Bull

Chained to the Cross: Interrogation // Closed RP

reconciliatory-yoga:

His smirk faded and he braced for the impact of Alan’s hand but it never came. He heard the ding of the elevator that was followed by a familiar voice. Of course you wouldn’t use electronics. Cheeky bastard.

He grit his teeth as he listened to the Templar’s description. “Tosser,” he grumbled under his breath and glared daggers at the brunet’s back. Luckily there was a trip on his system. Thankfully everything was off from the move and he had a brutal security system when trying to reboot them. If any of his multiple, timed passwords were triggered, each hard-drive was set to self-destruct. Might as well act as if they already had everything in the bag. Could influence a few slip-ups if they’re over-confident.

“No problem for my techs- or rather, it better not be,” he answered.

Alan held his hands behind his back as he leaned mere inches away from Shaun’s face and smiled. “I wonder how long it will take your friends to realize you’ve been missing?” He moved back and took out his phone and scrolled through it, not looking away from it as he continued to speak.

“I bet we can take the very livelihood out of you before they find you. You’ll be nothing but a lifeless soul clinging to flesh and bones when they find you, and you will be no use to them… but they will be of so much use to me.”

He put his phone away and gestured for Barrows to do as he may with their hostage.

At the offer he walk over towards Shaun. “Well Mr. Hastings, it seems our host wishes that I do the entertainment. I am certain you would not mind aiding me in this affair?” A sly and deadly smirk settled across his lips.

He glanced up towards Alan, wondering if he was allowed to get a little more comfortable for such a task. Julius noticed the change in demeanor and trotted over to circle Shaun’s chair. Their pray was toy now right? He could play?

Cesare’s fingers threaded into the red collar around Julius’ neck, holding him in place as the large dog sized up Shaun.

(Source: theborgiageneral)

♥ 14 notes 2 months ago

il-condottiero:

“Well she’s touchy— in a good way and I know she means well but I don’t know what to do back? However, I feel as if anyone tried to harm her or take her away, I’d kill them.” Micheletto bumped into his desk and sent the inkwell tilting over.

A scowl.

“—Is it love or friendship? Letting her into my life is sentencing her to death.”

He reached over to try and save a few of the papers, managing to snatch up a few in time, sighing as he tipped the well back up to normal. He looked up. Micheletto, clumsy… He really was smitten. “… Try your hand, return what affection you can afford to stand Micheletto. I know your preferences. Ask her things about what she likes, test the waters. Knowing you, you will not allow anything to sentence her to death, not even the likes of me if you are as smitten as you seem.” He smirked.

♥ 24 notes 2 months ago

30 minutes, go.

humansubtlety:

theborgiageneral:

Read More

Read More

♥ 54 notes 2 months ago

@theborgiageneral

asktherenaissanceman:

theborgiageneral:

The neatly corded belt was unknotted easily, his fingers twining around the material easily. His other hand came up then to take Leonardo’s chin into hand, to get him to look up and meet his gaze. Leaning in close. An eyebrow quirking up as if in question.

His gaze flickered up to meet Cesare’s, then his eyes fluttered shut.

The proximity was bringing back…memories.

And so he turned away, ever so slightly.

Smiling he leaned forward, letting his lips gently brush the other’s ear. “Something wrong, Maestro?” He asked in a teasing half purr of a voice.

♥ 26 notes 2 months ago

Final Farewell

[3/3/13 10: 35:04 PM] Cesare Borgia: March 12, 1507. Midnight.

[3/3/13 10: 43:30 PM] Cesare Borgia: Witching hour had officially begun. And a chill entered the air as an old friend seemed to just walk into the workshop. Dressed in white tunic and simple brown pants. Cesare Borgia glanced around for the maestro.

[3/3/13 10: 52:46 PM] Leonardo: Finished. Leonardo sat back in his chair, satisfied and with an elevated pride within him as he looked at the portrait in front of him. Of course, it was not perfect. But all of the elements that he had envisioned were there. Even as he announced its completion to himself, he added a few brushstrokes. He stayed there, in his workshop, working on it and only pausing when a chill racked through his frame. He turned about, wondering if perhaps he only just noticed that he left a window open but was frozen when his gaze fell on the figure in front of him.

[3/3/13 11: 04:18 PM] Cesare Borgia: The General smiled at him. A strange calm about him. Bowing his head, and tipping forward in a bit of a bow towards the Maestro. The 31 year old coming back up to full height.

[3/3/13 11: 06:13 PM] Leonardo: The artist stood abruptly then and dropped his brush and paint that only breaking his concentration for the moment as he made sure no paint splattered on his portrait. "W-What is this?" He breathed, as he reached out to grip at a nearby worktable. He did his best to calm down--surely this was a trick or he was seeing things. "Who are you--No, what is this?"

[3/3/13 11: 10:46 PM] Cesare Borgia: He spoke not a word, only taking the time to look around the workshop. A chess set, though slightly cluttered with things sat off to one side. He smiled moving over towards it. Not a sound coming from him, not even footsteps. His clothing moving like nothing should, as if gravity had no call over him. He smiled fondly at a game he would play so often against an unseen opponent. Always he was black. For his had not been the first move. He very lightly tipped over the king. Surrender to Checkmate. The piece clattering to the board and rolling off, and straight through his foot.

[3/3/13 11: 36:50 PM] Leonardo: Leonardo could not keep his eyes off of what appeared to be Cesare Borgia. Could this be a dream? He was loathe to think of this as such--he had just finished his painting! And yet, how could this man be standing here in his workshop? He watched the phantom--surely, he was a phantom and yet it was strange for it to be true--as he walked to his chessboard. As the piece fell to the floor and through his foot, Leonardo took a few steps back. This was some sort of trick. This was a dream. It could not be real.

[3/3/13 11: 42:50 PM] Cesare Borgia: He smiled sadly, watching the piece roll away. Finally looking back up at Leonardo, wondering if the man understood the meaning. Silent, watching the artist.

[3/3/13 11: 44:35 PM] Leonardo: Despite himself, there were tears in his eyes. "Well? Is it really you or isn't it?" He stayed his ground, wanting to approach him but certain this was a trick. The man was dead! He had heard it himself; he knew for certain. "Will you say anything at all?"

[3/3/13 11: 50:08 PM] Cesare Borgia: Fingers bridged before him, considering the question. He… was not entirely sure himself. He was and yet he was not. Finally he just gave a silent sigh, looking back up from his hands to Leonardo. Talking though… he knew talking was hard. He put a hand to his throat. He could spare a few words but… Time was against him.

[3/3/13 11: 54:36 PM] Leonardo: Leonardo pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling. Surely this was a trick. Surely... But the other could not speak, it seemed, and how would he know if he could not hear his voice to confirm it? Though he was suspicious, he saw his only other option was clear. He took cautious steps, trying to keep from shaking but the closer he was the harder it seemed and he could no longer keep the tears at bay. "What is this, really? Oh God," he ran his fingers through his hair, taking in a trembling breath. "But you were--you are dead."

[3/4/13 12: 02:03 AM] Cesare Borgia: At that simple statement… He could only nod. Yes, death had claimed him. And in that instant, brief as he remembered that moment, his figure took on a far more gruesome look. Showing he had not died from the fall as Ezio had said. But from 25 prominent gaping wounds that littered his body. As if his attackers had been trying to rip him to shreds so that nothing might be left of the General. He shook the thought away, returning to the pristine and yet disconnected form he had now. No trappings of his office, not signs of his trials or his struggles. Not even the ever present scars. He had been cleansed of that.

[3/4/13 12: 06:20 AM] Leonardo: At that, Leonardo wept, pressing his knuckles to his forehead and stepped back away from him. He did not want to see--not that. He did not want to see /him/. He had removed him from his mind already, had moved on. His silent mourning had passed; he never shed a tear from him. But now, he wept, now that he was here in front of him and yet still gone. It was torture. And soon he was sitting on the floor, breathing shakily and looking away from him, wishing he would go and yet also wanting him to stay, just for a while longer.

[3/4/13 12: 12:14 AM] Cesare Borgia: Strong shoulders drooped at the sight of the other’s sorrow. He was beginning to second-guess coming to say farewell. Still he moved. One thing must be done. Finally he moved forward to stand before the other, gaze quiet, understanding, but imploring the other to stand again, to remain strong.

[3/4/13 12: 17:58 AM] Leonardo: "Look what you do to me, Cesare Borgia." He said quietly, unable to look at him. "You make me weep--w-weep, right in front of you." Wiping his tears and putting his embarrassment aside, he finally looked at him and noticed the chess piece in the phantom's hand. He felt his heart clench as he took it in his fingers and pushed himself up to his feet. "I... Why did you come? To play a game?" At that, his voice cracked slightly but he cleared his throat in hopes of concealing it.

[3/4/13 12: 25:49 AM] Cesare Borgia: He shook his head. No, no game. His king, now Leonardo’s. The man that had always played black if given the choice, was now giving up his king. Putting his own hand over Leonardo’s only the sensation of chill air there in place of flesh or weight. Finally he smiled softly, trying to give the other some form of hope. His lips parted and he spoke. Yet… his words sounded whispered, and so far away, like a breath on the wind. ~Forgive me, Leonardo, but I must leave this with you, what hope there is...~

[3/4/13 12: 36:18 AM] Leonardo: "No, no," Leonardo panicked and tried to hold on to him. "No, don't go, not yet--please." But it was going to be too late, he was going to leave and Leonardo could not stop it. At this realization, he spoke quickly but quietly, "I love you." That was his goodbye, these last words. It didn't matter if Cesare heard or not, knew or not--he had said it out loud. It was his own goodbye, his farewell, though he would have had him stay. God, how it hurt to see him go, how it hurt to stand and how heavy the piece felt in his hand. When he looked down at it, he could only think of the man's words to him. He had given him his king, left him what hope there was left... His fingers curled over the piece and he simply stood there with it, silent apart from his quiet weeping.

[3/4/13 12: 42:44 AM] Cesare Borgia: A single tear slipped down his right cheek from closed eyes. And with a long and tired sigh he slipped away. Cesare Borgia, was gone, but not without knowing that at least one being here cared, and that perhaps there was still hope.

♥ 3 notes 2 months ago

neurosciencestuff:

Patient has 75 per cent of his skull replaced by 3D-printed implant

A man has had 75 per cent of his skull replaced with a custom-made 3D-printed implant.

The un-named patient in the United States had his head imaged by a 3D scanner before the plastic prosthetic was crafted to suit his features.

Oxford Performance Materials in Connecticut then gained approval from US regulators before the printed bone replacement was inserted in his skull during a surgical procedure earlier this week.

The ground-breaking operation has only now been revealed.

The company says it can now provide the 3D printouts to replace bone damaged by disease or trauma after the US Food and Drug Administration granted approval on February 18.

The implant is more than a simple moulded plastic plate: Tiny surface details are etched into the polyetherketoneketone to encourage the growth of cells and bone.

The company says about 500 people in the US could make use of the technology each month, with recipients ranging from injured construction workers through to wounded soldiers.

It says it can produce an implant within two weeks of obtaining 3D scans of the affected area.

(via theknowledgezombie)

♥ 998 notes 2 months ago

Anonymous Asked: M!A: In honor of his day of haunting and day of death, for the 11th and 12th you are now a vengeful spirit. Happy haunting.

~Poof~

Shadows darken in an empty room and the candle blows out by an unseen force, the quill dropped. The ink well topples spilling ink onto the maps before spilling onto the ground… Disembodied foot prints walk out of the room, through the closed door…

♥ 1 note 2 months ago

(Source: aclifelessons, via assassins-blood-templars-beliefs)

♥ 475 notes 2 months ago

neechan:

She nodded, “i have, thank you sir….but now i have nowhere to go, that why i’m roaming this country side….uh….brand sir?” she wondered slightly

“Si, the Assassins find that a mark of loyalty must be given to prove that one is ready to serve. A little different from ours. They brand themselves, willingly.” It made no sense to him, if done wrong whatever was branded would be useless do to damage done by the burn. That and he had been on the battlefield enough to know that such a smell was not pleasant.

To hear she had nowhere to go was interesting. “No where to go? Do you require something to aid you?” They were templars, they worked to pull each other up out of the depths if they had the means to. It kept their order strong.

(Source: theborgiageneral)

♥ 7 notes 2 months ago

neveranassassin:

theborgiageneral:

Slate blue eyes looked up from his work with a growl of light annoyance. Although seeing who it was he calmed. “Madonna, what have you come to me for?” He asked easily, bridging his hands before him.

She went in, closing the door behind her. She was oddly calm today, and she had no idea why. But it showed in her walk, the way her voice sounded. “It’s been a while and I was wondering if your men needed their weapons restocked..”

Calm… he was not used to her so calm. It brought one eyebrow higher along his brow. “My men take great care with their weapons, Madonna, and most fighting as ceased. At present I do not need to restock.” He answered. “I would gladly look at what else you have to offer however.”

(via sassmasterswift)

♥ 2 notes 2 months ago