asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [13.7/?]

(Anonymous) 2013-08-28 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)
'Pff,' Tom interjects with a loud snort, disgust and contempt clear on his face. 'The man would murder his own grandmother if it'd improve his chances.'

'Men have done worse things than that to secure a place within the Templar hierarchy.' There is an unexpected sharpness to her reply, a fleeting darkness that passes over her features as her eyes seem to focus on some distant point. She opens her mouth as if to say something more but, on making a sideways glance at Connor, she reconsiders. With a shake of her head she indicates the final, central picture. 'I take it you know Kenway well enough to be going on with for now. But make no mistake, he believes in what he's doing more than any of them.'

Perhaps it is just him twisting things, but people seem to be taking every chance they get to drive that point at him; Haytham is the enemy. In his mind it remains a statement that is simultaneously true and false, no matter how much he thinks on it. Tomorrow will settle it though, he has to believe that.

Aware that he is being watched, he chooses his words carefully, still conflicted in spite of it all and now with a feeling that something is being held back from him. It's almost as much an attempt to convince himself as it is to convince the others, a repetition of a fact that he needs to remind himself of with shameful regularity. 'He is not a grandmaster for nothing.'

'Indeed he is not.' The faintest hint of a smile curls her lips. 'You do seem to have him pretty taken in however. I was becoming quite concerned by all the lack of activity here until Achilles informed me of your part in it.

'They have not done anything?' It's hard to believe his involvement could have had that great an effect.

'Nothing substantial.'

'It's been boring as hell.' Tom grumbles quietly, looking bored just thinking about it.

'They have still been meeting regularly, but whenever they talk they always head up to their little den on the first floor landing. It's quite impossible to listen to them there without being detected.' If the thin scowl is any indication the irony of falling foul of the same precautionary measure she practices isn't lost on her.

'Got quite a beating, the one that tried it.' Piping up again, the apprentice appears not nearly so put out by the hinderance, to the point of irreverent faux-cheeriness. 'Lucky he was drunk or they mightn't have left him alive.'

That earns a reproachful glare, one that sufficiently cows him so that his master can keep full control of the conversation, for a while at least. 'Eavesdropping is fortunately no longer such a concern for us, not now that we have you, Connor. Help plan this assassination attempt, earn their trust, keep them as occupied as you can, and report back to us everything you learn. The more information we have, the easier things will be when the time comes.'

'I am not convinced they will tell me anything much, outside of the planning.' Serious doubt has been creeping back in ever since he set foot in this room, there is no guarantee that even Haytham really trusts him after all. Not that the man actually should anyway, he can't help but think as he rapidly pushes aside the ominous idea of 'when the time comes'.

'Don't be so sure. You have something they want.' As the closest thing the Brotherhood has on this side of the Atlantic to an expert on those who came before and their remains, her quiet resentment is palpable. While she must not believe for a second that he would ever dare go so far as to actually show the site to Haytham it is clear that the mere offer of it rather irks her. It's not really surprising that she becomes harsher when she continues. 'They need you, but don't think that will stop them gutting you if they ever find out what you're really doing there. Should you begin to doubt your safety in the least you are to leave. Immediately. Is that clear?'

'Yes, entirely clear.' Achilles had gone over the exact same thing with him, twice, during their last private talk. Now, that doesn't mean he is entirely sure he'll have the sense to do any such thing when it comes to it, but that's not going to stop him offering the assurance anyway.

A conspicuous look passes between the two older Assassins, a silent debate, both of them seeming slightly less than convinced. Contrary to his expectations however the master simply sighs; 'This opportunity you have created is undeniably a great benefit to us in this struggle, Connor, but it is not worth losing you. All we want is to be sure that you recognise your own limits and will not try to overreach yourself.'

If only. This cautioning would have been far more effective had it come before his first meeting with the grandmaster, or maybe even the second, for he has the feeling he crossed his limits long ago. Still, if he can just prove to himself that Dobby is right then everything will be fine. He can do this, he has to believe that. 'You have no need to worry, I understand the risks and have no intentions of letting them discover or kill me. Things worked out well enough at Southgate, they will work out again.'

'You certainly do have the melon... There will be eyes constantly on that building, so do not hesitate to signal if you need us. Otherwise, should all go well, Ton or I will meet you at the southern end of Macneal's Rope Yard in three days time to check up on your progress.' Discussion abruptly over Yvette turns her back on him, returning to the table and the previous object of perusal. Having now come to some manner of conclusion she seems to see no need for any further talk. One hand waves dismissively; 'Go now, get some sleep while you can still rest easy.'

And just like that he too is dismissed. Once again he has somehow managed to come away from an interrogation with no more than a warning, albeit another rather strong one. Not wanting to linger any longer in this room than he has to, Connor gladly does as instructed and follows Tom towards the door. He casts one last look over his shoulder at the wall, knowing with a shiver of anticipation that tomorrow he'll be facing at least some of them in the flesh again. After the glow of all those candles the climb to the next floor seems a lot darker than the last, and a steeper one too. The attic is divided into a number of smaller rooms by a number of partition walls that were clearly installed after construction, each housing a bed for anyone passing through who might need one. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the plain practicality of the design the space rather recalls the feel of a prison. At least there are no leering soldiers, he tells himself, that counts for something. Nonetheless getting a good night's sleep up here will be impossible. Not that he intends to mention any such thing to his elders, and particularly not the fact that he may well be much better rested after his first night in the Green Dragon. Or not, he quickly corrects himself.

Guiding him into one of the larger box-rooms, which has the additional virtue of a small window, Tom grimaces at the sight of the rather dismal straw mattress within and quickly ducks away to go in search of some form of extra bedding. Both gestures are very much appreciated, nevertheless the teenager is relieved when the older Assassin shows no particular inclination to stick around and chat after he hands over the blanket. Teasing would have been inevitable if he had, and Connor is in no mood to endure any of that right now. Left alone, he wastes no time shutting himself in, preparing for a long night of lying awake and listening to the building creak. Stripped down and stretched out atop the blanket the novice knows that if he closes his eyes he will see the cave, replaying the memories yet again. It's a bittersweet prospect and, tempting as it may be, he doesn't dare indulge in it now, for the walls up here are paper-thin.

...

In the end it's quite fortunate that he doesn't get much sleep, as it spares him from a drenching when Tom comes to wake him with a bucket of water in the morning. He still thinks that wandering in there soaked-through is far from a good idea, not if he's going to stand any chance of doing anything useful anyway. Ignoring the blatant disappointment on the Assassin's face he slings his quiver over his shoulder, signalling his readiness. Inside he is torn between wanting to get things underway quickly and wanting to hold off the inevitable. The flights of stairs somehow feel even more precarious and narrow now in what little dim light manages to filter into the space. Ahead of him the line of the man's shoulders grows tenser as the distance to the back door shrinks but upon reaching it he turns to the novice with a sudden bout of breeziness.

'Don't you go getting all soft on them, all right.' Tom's hand rests on the door handle, there will be no time for talking once he opens it. He offers one last, slightly strained smile by way of parting; 'Stay safe.'

No sooner than feet have touched pavement than it shuts fast behind him, a bolt audibly sliding into place. Certainly the Englishman has mastered the art of closing doors near-silently. Connor's skin prickles with that sensation of being watched as he pauses, standing there exposed in the empty alley. Somewhere up above, just out of sight, the master Assassin lurks, ready to shadow his every footstep. That wavering disquiet is only building further now, in spite of the fortification provided by the, relatively, fresh air that he breathes in hungrily. Along with something that feels far too much like guilt. Ignoring the pressure of Yvette's watchful eyes as best he can, not foolish enough to expose them both by attempting to locate her, he braces himself and heads east. It is as the safe-house recedes from reach that he realises he actually has no real plan from here. So focused has he been on actually just getting to Boston and appeasing the older Assassins that he hasn't really had a chance to think past it. Part of him was simply so sure they would see through him, that they'd realise the danger and put an end to his association with the grandmaster.

Studiously avoiding any trace of red, he creates a rather circuitous route across town that gives him more time to think, or at least stall, and likely causes more than a few headaches for the following Assassin. If nothing else he can always claim that he's just trying to keep her sharp. Although the sky is quite clear of clouds this morning there is a frost on the ground and every exhaled breath is visible in the chill air. A prelude to the fullest onset of winter. Boston is nonetheless in the midst of waking to go about its business as usual, although those of its citizens out on the streets are a little more tightly bundled up and are moving a little faster. Just because people are keen to get back indoors to the warmth of a fireside though doesn't mean that they ignore him. He draws looks, as he always seems to here, and before long he is dearly wishing he at least had a hood to hide behind. Were he not already sticking mostly to the back-alleys and cut-throughs the stares would have caused him to do so.

Eventually however he has to near his destination, with a mixture of relief and trepidation; were he to start going in circles, as he half wants to, Yvette would probably decide that he'd changed his mind and promptly haul him back to the safe-house. He has the feeling that she, just as much as Achilles, will be consciously looking for the least excuse to call this off. Fortunately the novice catches sight of the sign before he can take more than a step out of the shadows of the empty alleyway. Fairly safe in the assumption that there aren't going to be any other taverns, inns, or other public buildings with a greenish-coloured dragon hanging over their doors, he nevertheless pulls back. Now more than ever Connor dislikes the idea of walking straight into the place alone. Even in the company of his fellow novices he has never felt very comfortable in any of Boston's drinking establishments, for their patrons are always far too interested in him for his liking. Frontier taverns are one thing, those in larger settlements are quite another. His concerns are certainly not helped by the fact that a group of redcoats are conspicuously looping round the block as if waiting for the moment when they can rightfully leave off duty and go straight inside.

Besides, the fact is that he can't be sure that Haytham is even in the building right now. So surely it's better to wait out here, to just watch until he sees the man before doing anything. The idea of having to introduce himself to the other Templars doesn't exactly thrill him. Sinking down, pressing his back to the reassuringly solid brickwork, the teenager does his best to disappear into the shadows. No one should pay him much heed here and he has a good, clear line of sight on the entrance to the Green Dragon. For the time being at least he can stay, although the novice is quite aware that this is a pretty poor tactic and that he'll have to bite the bullet eventually. The longer he drags this out, the more annoyed he's going to be making Yvette, and that's a worse prospect to face than the inside of the tavern. Still, he remains hesitant as the sun continues to steadily rise higher above the horizon. What if he's wrong? What if he's right? Either way, crossing that threshold will change things, tip the balance, and not necessarily for the better. There's no choice though, there never has been. Whatever there is between them, he needs to know. If nothing else it'd always be good to get rid of Braddock.

'I do hope you weren't planning on staying out here all day.'

Heart attempting to both leap and plunge in an instant, Connor ends up feeling slightly nauseous, and more than a little embarrassed. His attention must have slipped severely for him to have missed the pad of footsteps approaching from behind, however quiet they may have been. Deprived of the chance to properly steel himself, he looks up to meet Haytham's inquisitive expression and nothing has changed.

Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [13.7/?]

(Anonymous) 2013-08-28 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
*screams*

Aaaaaahhhh oh man I love that we learnt a lot in this, and I like how you're detailing the other assassin's jobs and missions. I'm also glad in a way we didn't have to nervously read Achilles' conversation with Connor (unless I missed an update?) because I love Achilles but he's so scary sometimes, even when you're just reading him in fic TT_TT

oh man oh man oh man i don't know what to say except thank you write anon thank you so much!

<3

Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [13.7/?]

(Anonymous) 2013-08-30 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
This story is just amazing, anon. That last sentence got me. I too am torn like our poor Connor here -- don't know whether he can trust Haytham or just shun the very prospect of going further... /pats Connor/ Paranoia can't feel pleasant either.

Very excited for the next part!

Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [13.7/?]

(Anonymous) 2013-10-16 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Anon, you're incredible and I'm super glad you decided to fill this. Looking forward to the next update, whenever you are able to write/post it! Much love! <3