asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-03-29 05:37 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.3
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List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Part 5
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Discussion

Mindshift 13/18

(Anonymous) 2011-06-08 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)
He fit right in, and now that he could go out and about, he was planning on finding himself a wife and settling down. Have a litter of kids. Make his granddad proud.

“Desmond, you are not of this time,” Altair said calmly.

“Yeah, I am—”

“No. Here.” Malik pushed a thin, black thing into his hands.

“What’s this? Where’d you get it?”

“You called it an I Phun. Or something like that. It was in your backpack, you idiot. Did you not feel me take it out?”

“It was?” He was turning it in his hand, not really sure what to do with it. He glanced up to see Altair and Malik look at each other.

“You turn it on by pressing the silver bar on the top. You showed me.”

He pushed the silver bar on the top and jumped when the screen lit up. “I… Is that me?”

He was staring at the picture of him, dressed in the oddest blue pants. He was with a man with glasses, and a woman with bulbous projections on either ear. He stared at the lady with the blonde hair. She seemed familiar.

“Who are they?”

Malik pointed to each in turn. “You. Shaun. Rebecca. Lucy.”

The names stuck as well as oil on water. “Huh?”

Malik ran through them again, and when they still didn’t stick, he scowled and looked at Altair.

“So what now? It’s clear the Apple is blocking any memory of his past.”

“We will simply have to hope we can get him ho—”

“Who was the blonde woman again? She seems familiar.”

He felt his chest ache as he looked at her. He touched the screen lightly as if to feel her skin, and Desmond felt as if his heart were tugged on. He felt an odd sort of despair creeping into his mind.

“You were in love with her.”

The words didn’t stick as he stared at her. Finally, ripping his gaze away, he handed it back to Malik.

“I still don’t think I’m from the future.”

“Desmond, you need to get…” Malik sighed, frustrated. “You need to go home.”

“I am ho—”

“No,” Altair said. “You will come with me to Masyaf. You need to go home.”

“The question is, how will we get you out?” Malik said. “You are dead.”

“I will sneak—”

“There is no way you could with all of the attention to Desmond and your injuries.”

“He could be a distraction so that I could sneak out.”

“We can try it,” Malik said, “but you will have to be extra careful.”

“I’ll have to talk to Granddad,” Desmond said, frowning. “Although, I don’t entirely want to go back.”

“You have to. It is not your time to be here.”

“But…” Desmond sagged. “I’ve enjoyed myself here. Not the fame and popularity, but I just feel at home here.”

“I know, Desmond.” He looked when Malik placed his hand on his shoulder. “But you cannot remain. Imagine what those people in the iPhun must be feeling like. You need to return. You called them your family when you told me about them. It would be as if they were losing Kadar.”

Desmond looked at his lap. He didn’t want to leave, but the odds were stacking against him.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to Granddad.”

He walked out without another word and went to the house. By the time he arrived, the thought of going back “home” was all ready gone. He spent the rest of the day watching his granddad work. He helped make the meal and do the laundry. He fetched the water for them and enjoyed working with them. As the sun was going down, there was a knock at the door, and Granddad went to open it as Desmond helped his daughter prepare dinner.

“And then, you’ll never believe this, Desmond,” the woman said, “she claimed that you had never beaten Altair! She thinks it’s all a lie!”

“Are you serious?” Desmond responded, grinding the herbs for her.

“Absolutely! And then she had the courage to hint at her daughter being unmarried. I am sorry, but as long as you live under my roof, you will never get married to that witch’s daughter.”

“I don’t want to if her mother’s not going to believe me.”

“Good. And the dog woman from last time was in the market, too.”

“What’d she have to say?” He handed her the bowl of ground up spices.

“Her mothering dog has fallen ill. All the pups caught what she had because of the milk. Poor things will waste away like everyone else in the poor district.”