asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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
Fill Only
Fill Only
Join or Die
✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
If Apple = Immortality...
(Anonymous) 2012-11-09 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)Desmond also handled the apple. Extensively.
I'd like to see Desmond struggling to come to terms with his new immortality. It sucks, but at least he's not alone - Altair and Ezio are there as well.
I'd prefer for familial interactions, but I'm fine with slash.
Re: If Apple = Immortality...
(Anonymous) 2012-11-10 05:41 am (UTC)(link)I'm seconding it, and I really hope somebody fills it
because if they don't I might have to try, and that can only end in tears.Re: If Apple = Immortality...
(Anonymous) 2012-11-28 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)Re: If Apple = Immortality...
(Anonymous) 2012-12-13 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)Citadel 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-15 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)He gasped, his entire upper body lifting off the bed before falling back with a soft thump. Desmond opened his eyes, blinking them shut just as quickly. The room he was in was bright, the sun shining through unshuttered windows.
Deciding against opening his eyes again so soon, he tried to determine what exactly he was lying on. The sheets felt rough, but moved easily under his touch. He briefly considered a hospital, but the thickness of the sheets was far cry from hospital issue. Besides, he considered, the fact that he would have been connected to any known number of beeping machines.
Desmond let his hand fall limp under the blankets. The only other place he could think of was Abstergo. Weeks of being their prisoner and sleeping in their cell of a room had made him very accustomed to their bedding arrangements. And if Abstergo had him, it could only spell bad news for his future.
The future. If he was alive, it meant that the solution hadn’t worked. The world had burned, and he was still alive. Desmond felt his heartbeat speed up, the visions Minerva had shown him dancing behind his closed lids. His breathing hitched, his hands curling into fists.
“Be calm.”
Desmond froze at the familiar voice. Light footsteps came and stood at his bedside as Desmond cautiously opened his eyes. Blinking to adjust them to the light, he turned and stared into the face of a man who had been dead for centuries.
“You are safe, Desmond,” Connor said. “Rest now. Your body is still recovering.”
“Did it work?” he asked. His voice sounded strange to his ears, the words coming out throaty and flat. Connor nodded.
“Rest,” he told him. Desmond found himself heeding his ancestor’s words, his eyes falling shut once more. In what seemed like barely a second, he opened them again.
The light was not as bright as it had been when he first awoke. Judging by the fading red streaks and gathering darkness outside the windows, he guessed that it had been only a few hours since he had fallen asleep. Desmond pushed himself up onto his forearms, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The room was easily recognizable, from the chess board on the coffee table to the stuffed eagle between the windows.
Desmond slid out from between the sheets, surprised at the the soft cotton texture compared to the rough ones from earlier. The wooden floorboards of the room were cold to his bare feet, but not uncomfortably so as he sat on the edge of the bed. He stood up slowly, the room spinning slightly as he got his bearings. Desmond crossed the room and peered out the window. The small draft from it made him shiver in his t-shirt and sweatpants, but confirmed what he had thought.
“The view is different from when I was a young man,” Connor said, silently padding up next to him. Desmond flinched, not used to people sneaking up on him. “I am glad you are awake.”
“I was only asleep for a few hours,” Desmond said.
“Half a month, actually,” another voice corrected him. Desmond whirled around, falling into a defensive posture. Two more familiar men stood in the doorway, each of them looking amused at his reaction in their own way.
“Safety and peace,” Altair said. He stepped forward, extending a hand towards Desmond.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Desmond said. Ezio laughed and stepped forward, clapping Altair on the shoulder.
“Finally,” he said, “something the all of us understand.”
“I have offered to-,” Connor began. Ezio waved him off.
“I will have to take you up on the offer, since I’m the only one who didn't understand you earlier,” Ezio agreed.
“How is this happening?” Desmond asked, drawing their attention back to him. His defensive posture had fallen, though his fists were still clenched at his sides. “You’re dead, all of you,” he said. He paused as soon as the words left his mouth, considering them. “I’m supposed to be dead,” he added. “Is this some sort of fucked up heaven bullshit?”
Altair cracked a grin at his outburst. “This is not the afterlife.”
“Then how are you here?” Desmond asked. “How the fuck am I still alive?”
“You were not when we found you,” Connor said. He motioned for Desmond to take a seat. He did, cradling his head in his hands.
“I sure as hell feel like I’m alive,” Desmond argued.
“You are,” Ezio told him. Desmond managed to glare at him Ezio held up his hands in a placating manner. He looked to Altair, who took a seat across from Desmond. He considered the half-played game in front of him, before capturing a pawn with another, holding the captured pawn in his hands.
“What do you know about the Pieces of Eden?” he asked.
“They’re artifacts made by Those Who Came Before,” Desmond said. “Failed solutions to stop the world from burning.”
“Terrible and beautiful artifacts,” Ezio agreed, “that hold a secret.”
“What, cheating death?”
“Immortality,” Connor said, coming to the board and moving a knight.
“Even for all my time spent studying the Apple, I did not realize this,” Altair said.
“I-Ezio saw your corpse,” Desmond replied.
“An illusion,” Ezio said. He looked over Altair’s shoulder, before reaching and moving a bishop to counter Connor.
“I spent two hundred and fifty three years in the Vault,” Altair said. “I merely wanted to see what you would do.”
“You attempted to kill me!”
“I did not succeed,” Altair reminded him. “Even with my return to my prime, I still thought to fight like my older self.”
“So, what, the Apple made you younger?” Desmond asked. “You don’t look as old as Ezio saw you.”
“I was twenty-six when I first used my Piece of Eden,” Altair said. He reached across the board and moved a rook to capture Ezio’s bishop. “Ezio was thirty, Connor thirty-two. The Pieces took an imprint of us at the age when we first used them, and returned us to that age when we died.”
“So I’m going to be twenty-five for eternity?” Desmond asked, looking up from his hands.
“Yes,” Connor said, moving a pawn to protect Ezio’s bishop.
“The Pieces of Eden seek out complements,” Ezio said, moving a pawn to threaten Connor’s knight. “I suppose you could say they seek guardians.”
“But I had your Apple,” Desmond said, watching their strange game of chess.
“The Apple did not-,” Ezio paused, searching for the right term, “ did not resonate with me. The Staff did, although it was lost to me for many years.”
“Did They know about this?” Desmond asked.
“No,” Altair said. He considered the board for a moment and then moved his queen to capture Connor’s knight. “Or else they would have destroyed them. Humanity should never have the chance to challenge to their gods.”
“But Minerva and Jupiter-”
“Would have shared that belief, much as they would deny it,” Altair said.
“If They could have saved Themselves, have no doubt that humanity would have been nothing more than a race of slaves.”
“How did Juno not see it, then?” Desmond asked. “Or Minerva? She said she had seen the future if I hadn’t done it. Wouldn’t she have seen me living?”
“They would not have,” Ezio said. He moved from where he was standing behind Altair’s chair to sit beside the board. He picked up a pawn and moved it to threaten Altair’s queen.
“Until you died, you appeared as any other human,” Connor said, mirroring Ezio on the other side of the table. He moved another knight and took Ezio’s pawn, freeing Altair’s queen.
“When you died, it triggered your Apple,” Altair said. “It began to bring you back. To heal you.”
“Heal me?”
“We found you a few days after you died,” Ezio said. “You were like a burnt husk, your eyes black cinders, your skin flaking away.”
“We thought you might not return,” Connor added.
“It took you a month to begin breathing again, a month from then to wake up for the first time. Half a month from that day to today.”
“It’s only been a few hours,” Desmond said, gesturing towards the windows. “You’re telling me it's been weeks?”
“Healing takes time,” Connor said, not looking up from the board.
“And now what?” Desmond asked. “Juno’s out there. I have to stop her.”
“You need to, or you feel obligated to?” Altair asked, looking up from the game.
“Both,” Desmond retorted. “She’s going to take over the world.”
Altair sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “And do you know how she is planning on doing this? Her methods? Or are you planning on rushing in and revealing your survival, spoiling any hope of a surprise attack?” When Desmond did not respond, he continued. “The Animus may have given you access to our skills, but you are still no better than a novice.”
“So I’m just supposed to let her take over?” Desmond asked. “Let her win?”
“No,” Connor said. “But you must seek patience. Juno has played a long game. We have time before she begins to move in earnest.”
“And we will use that time wisely,” Ezio assured him. “As Altair said, for all the skills you possess, you do not know how to use them to their fullest potential.”
“We will train you,” Altair said. He tossed his pawn at Desmond, who snatched it out of the air. “We will give you the knowledge of how to be a Master in form as well as name.”
“And then what?” Desmond asked.
“We hunt,” Connor said.
Re: Citadel 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-15 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Citadel 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-17 01:25 am (UTC)(link)Re: Citadel 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-17 02:05 am (UTC)(link)Re: Citadel 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-18 01:51 am (UTC)(link)THANK YOU!
(Poor Desmond. All those ancestors ganging up on you... Well. Could be worse. Could be Haytham...)
Re: Citadel 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-29 06:06 pm (UTC)(link)ha ha this came to mind when I read the end! Squee! This is amazing! All of them interacting!
Citadel 2a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-03 08:00 pm (UTC)(link)He hit the ground again, the air in his body leaving in an explosive grunt. Desmond groaned and pushed himself to his feet. Ezio grinned and motioned for him to try again.
“You’re enjoying this,” Desmond told him. He threw a haymaker towards Ezio’s face, and was unsurprised when it was blocked. He brought his other fist into Ezio’s solar plexus. Ezio stumbled backwards, trying to draw a breath. Desmond pressed his advantage, and landed a punch on his jaw. He only caught the hint of a grin on Ezio’s face before his feet were taken out from under him.
“Perhaps,” Ezio agreed as Desmond hit the floor. Desmond groaned at his jovial tone and threw an arm over his eyes. “You have improved,” Ezio said, sensing his despair.
“When six hundred years old you reach, beat the master you will?” Desmond asked. He stood up and slid into a fighting stance. Ezio chuckled.
“If you’re lucky,” he replied.
This time Ezio pressed the attack, forcing Desmond to defend himself. His first two jabs missed as Desmond jumped backwards. Desmond grinned as he blocked a punch at his shoulder. He danced to the left as Ezio tried to block him into a corner. Abandoning that tactic, Ezio rushed him and grappled him to the floor. Desmond managed to throw him off. He rolled to his feet, ready for Ezio’s next attack.
Connor grabbed him from behind and pinned his arms to his sides. Desmond fought against his hold, throwing his head back in an attempt to hit his nose. At the same time he attempted to step on his insole. Connor leaned backwards and widened his stance, avoiding his blows. A light touch on his neck made Desmond look up. Ezio grinned as he tapped Connor’s arm.
“Dead,” he said as Connor released Desmond. “Keep an eye out for new opponents. Tunnel vision won’t help you in a fight.”
“Right,” Desmond said. He walked over to the sidelines, grunting in thanks when Connor threw him a towel. He wiped his face, watching the two Masters.
Desmond grabbed a water bottle and leaned against the wall. He could read their body language easily, his mind remembering their mannerisms. Connor took a step backwards from Ezio, something he did when he was nervous or trying to hide something.
“Is he ready?” Connor asked. Ezio shrugged and motioned for Desmond to throw him a bottle of water.
“He can do it,” Ezio said after taking a swig of water. He looked at Desmond and raised an eyebrow. “He’s acceptable.”
“Altair wishes to speak with you. I will tell him,” Connor said. Ezio nodded, his lips tilting up slightly as he walked past Desmond.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Desmond asked as Ezio’s footsteps faded. “Did something happen?”
“No,” Connor said. “Not yet.”
“Then what’s up?”
“You’ve improved since you started training,” Connor replied, deflecting his question.
“Ezio’s still kicking my ass like he was in March,” Desmond said. “But I’m probably in the best shape of my life.”
“You have passed every test we have put before you,” Connor said.
Desmond raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What tests?”
“Patience,” Connor said. “Your willingness to wait for the time to strike. Strength and cunning, shown when you spar. And tonight we will test the most important in this day and age: stealth.”
“You’re letting me hit the town?” Desmond asked. “Without a grocery list?”
That managed to make Connor smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “And you will have a few advantages as well. The streets will be busy-”
“Why?”
“It is the Fourth,” Connor said. Desmond shrugged sheepishly as he continued. “We will not use our Eagle Vision, and you will have an hour’s head start. At six we will begin hunting you.”
“I’d better get changed then,” Desmond said. He turned and bounded up the stairs. Ezio and Altair’s hushed conversation halted until he was on the second floor. He glanced at the clock before jumping into the shower, rinsing off the worst of his sweat and grime.
Securing a towel around his waist, he jogged to his room and threw on a pair of boxers and jeans. He debated for a moment between two shirts before choosing a dark blue one. Looking around the room for anything else he might need, he grabbed a white jacket that was hanging in his closet. It had been a late birthday gift from his ancestors. When he had expressed his gratitude for it, more had appeared in his closet, supplementing his wardrobe.
Walking back down the stairs, he slipped out the front door. It had been a very mild summer for New Hampshire, and Desmond was glad he had thought to wear a jacket. He started off at a jog towards the town. The differences between the two Davenports, sidewalks instead of muddy roads, gasoline rather than the smell of nature, were nice.
The sidewalk led him down by the bay, into the thick crowds headed towards the piers. Desmond let them drag him along, picking a few pockets as he went. It wasn’t hard, people’s minds on other things. Glancing at a clock by one of the stands, Desmond saw that it was almost seven. He glanced around nonchalantly, his vision flickering into his second sight. Satisfied that none of his ancestors were around, he began making his way to the opposite side of the beach. About halfway across, he spotted someone that he needed. The man was a year or two younger than him, but as Desmond watched, he saw him lift two wallets from passersby. Desmond made his way over and tapped him on the shoulder.
“You’re pretty good,” Desmond said casually. The man’s posture tensed at his words, and Desmond held up his hands. “Look, buddy, I need your help.”
“None of my business,” the man said.
“I’ll give you what I’ve managed to take in exchange for your jacket and pack,” Desmond said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the wallets he had stolen. Opening it, he pulled out a stack of cash. The man’s interest was palpable as his eyes followed the money.
“I can’t say no to a little cash,” he agreed, sliding off his jacket. He emptied his pack before handing it to Desmond as well. “You get made?”
“Further up the pier,” Desmond lied. He stuffed his jacket into the bag and pulled on the other man’s. “Think I’ll try someplace else for a while,” he said, pressing the cash into the other man’s hand. The man gave him a jaunty wave as he disappeared into the crowd again.
Re: Citadel 2b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-03 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)Slipping out into the street, he saw people lining up in front of the entrance to a nightclub. He crossed the street and went into the alley beside the club. If he could get in, he would be safe for at least an hour. The crowds and bouncers inside the club would notice someone who stayed between the tides of patrons.
“What do you mean you’re at the police station?” an angry woman’s voice asked just before he turned the corner. He ducked against the wall, hoping that whoever was talking hadn’t seen him. The conversation continued, and Desmond let out a sigh of relief at having escaped detection.
“We open in half an hour, Danny!” the woman shouted. “It’ll take at least an hour to get you out and here. Oh, it’ll be fine?” she asked. Desmond peeked around the corner in time to see the phone hit the opposite wall and shatter into a million pieces.
“Everything okay back here?” Desmond asked, coming around the corner. He schooled his expression into one of modest concern, pretending to survey the scene.
“Just great, thanks,” the woman said. She stooped to pick up a few pieces of her phone. Desmond grabbed some that had landed near his feet and handed them to her. “My bartender got himself arrested for outstanding tickets, and expects me to come and bail him out. Not like I have a choice. Can’t open without him.”
“You need a bartender?” Desmond asked. A plan began to form in his mind. “I can help, if you need it.”
“Right,” the manager scoffed. “Some punk who walks by just so happens to be a bartender. I don’t believe you.”
“Guess you’ll just have to wait to open, then,” Desmond said with a shrug. He turned to walk away.
“Wait,” the manager said. Desmond turned back around. She rolled her eyes skyward and let out a sigh. “Come inside,” she said. “Quick test, and if you pass, you’re in.”
“Fair enough,” Desmond agreed, following her into the establishment. She led him to the bar and took a seat at the counter.
Desmond set his bag down behind the bar and washed his hands. “Have a drink you’re craving?”
“Can you make a Lemon Drop?” the manager asked as he dried his hands. Desmond chuckled and looked at the liquors available before pulling the ones he needed.
“You know,” Desmond said, wetting the edge of a martini glass with a lemon wedge, “I hate to make this drink.”
“Really?” she asked. Desmond nodded as he pressed the edge of the glass lightly into sugar.
“Well, hated, I should say,” he amended. He poured some vodka into a shaker, following it with Triple Sec. “I used to get sticky hands until I could get to a sink. Which,” he said, “could be hours.”
“You fixed that problem, I assume?” she said, watching him squeeze some lemon juice into the mixture.
“Nope,” Desmond admitted cheekily, as he closed the lid and gave it a few shakes. “But one time I met a girl who absolutely loved them. Worked out pretty good for me in that regard.”
“Cute,” the manager said as he poured the drink. She took it from him and sipped it. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, and she set the glass back down on the counter.
“It’s the fresh lemon,” Desmond told her. “Gives it a better taste in my opinion."
“Very nice,” she replied. “How late can you stay?”
“A little past midnight,” he said. She nodded, considering him. “Let me keep any tips made in that time and I’ll call it even.”
“Done,” she agreed. “I have some spare uniform shirts in the back. You’ll be tending bar alone until I can get back with Danny. Think you can handle it?”
“Not a problem,” Desmond assured her.
“I’ll let the bouncers know not to bother you -”
“Dex,” he said, one of his old aliases coming to him easily. She nodded, leaving him to clean and set up the bar as he liked.
Over the next three hours Desmond settled into a familiar rhythm. Between drink orders he scanned the crowd in Eagle Vision, looking for any color besides white. Danny had been dragged in around ten-thirty by the manager, which alleviated some of his load. Finally the clock ticked past midnight and he let out a sigh of relief. He began to wipe down the counter as Danny filled orders at the other end of the bar. He felt slightly bad leaving Danny to deal with the one a.m. crowd, so he tried to clean up as much as possible.
“You are a hard man to find,” Connor said in Kanien’keha. He sat on one of the bar stools and watched Desmond pull out glasses and liquors and begin to mix.
“No one notices the bartender,” Desmond replied in the same language. Finishing the drink, he poured it into a collins glass and slid it to him. “On the house,” he said, switching back to English. “It’s called a Bocce Ball. I think you’ll like it.”
“Anything for us, mio nipote?” Ezio asked as he and Altair sat down on either side of Connor.
Desmond rolled his eyes as he finished another two drinks. One he poured in an old-fashioned glass and set in front of Ezio. “A Godfather for the Italian,” he said. “And,” he added, pouring ingredients into a highball glass, “a Shirley Templar for the Master.”
His ancestors drank as he finished cleaning up. Desmond took the tips from the jar and put them in his stolen wallet. Waving to Danny, he disappeared into the back room, changing into his own shirt and jacket.
“You’re a good bartender,” Ezio said as he rejoined them at the bar.
“It’s like riding a bike,” Desmond said. “You never really forget. Did I pass?”
“Admirably,” Altair told him. “We didn’t expect you to elude us for the full time."
“That’s me, full of surprises,” Desmond said sarcastically. “How was I supposed to pass?”
“If you had managed to elude us for three hours, we would have been impressed,” Ezio said. “We must be getting rusty if you managed the whole time.”
“Let us go back to the house,” Connor interrupted them, his voice low. All of them tensed at his words. Desmond changed his vision, a beacon of red appearing in the middle of the dance floor. The four of them dispersed, Desmond slipping out the employee entrance.
Citadel 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-03 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)“You were not followed?” Ezio asked as he took a seat.
“No,” he replied. All of his ancestors relaxed.
“We believe Juno has begun to make her move,” Altair said.
“How?” Desmond asked.
“There is a man in New York,” Connor told him, “who has seen visions and is promising a return to Eden.”
“Tons of crazies talk about stuff like that,” Desmond countered. “What makes this guy any different?”
“He claims that the Virgin has appeared before him,” Ezio said. “Telling him to prepare for the coming of a new world. He claims she gave him a gift, one that allows him to see what is to be.”
“The Apple,” Desmond said.
“Your Apple,” Altair agreed. “We thought your friends had taken it, but it appears that she uses it to further her own goals.”
“And people believe this guy?”
“With the Apple he has shown them great things” Ezio said. “Visions of cities without crime. Peace.”
“Enslavement,” Desmond retorted.
“Juno has influenced what the Apple has shown,” Connor said. “She has made him believe that her goal is for humanity.”
“So what’s the plan?” Desmond asked. “Steal the Apple?”
“No,” Altair warned.
“The Templars have set a guard on the man and his gift,” Connor said.
“Juno has swayed them to her cause,” Ezio added. “Promising them power in return.”
“We could sneak-”
“To breach their defenses would incur civilian casualties,” Altair said. “We cannot risk it.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Desmond asked, laying his hands on the table.
“We are going to Italia,” Ezio said.
“Italy,” Desmond repeated his voice incredulous. “Sure, why not. Let’s see if I can release any more crazy gods.”
Ezio had the decency to chuckle at his joke. “There was a dig at a temple of Janus, sponsored-”
“By Abstergo,” Desmond guessed. “You think they were looking for something?”
“They found it,” Connor corrected him. “Four weeks before you were taken by Abstergo they stopped the dig.”
“Whatever they found, it was not what they needed,” Ezio said.
“Which is why they took me,” Desmond said. “You think they found a Piece of Eden.”
“One whose purpose we do not know,” Altair told him.
“So we’re headed to Italy,” Desmond said. “No offense, Ezio, but I’m starting to hate it.”
“Understandable,” the Italian replied. “She never really recovered from what the Templars did to her.”
“I guess I’ll go pack a bag,” Desmond said, pushing back from the table.
“Wait,” Connor said. Desmond stayed seated as Connor went into the kitchen. He returned with a cardboard box, which he placed in front of Desmond.
“What is it?” Desmond asked.
“Open it and find out,” Ezio said, a small grin stretching the corners of his mouth.
Desmond rolled his eyes and did as his ancestor suggested. A black hooded jacket, similar in style to the white one he wore, sat in the box. But what drew his eyes were the weapons nestled on top of it.
“It is a formal welcome to the Brotherhood,” Altair said.
Desmond nodded in disbelief as he fastened the bracers to his forearms. Once they were secured, he flicked one out. He noticed that the blade could pivot, which he tested a few times before sheathing it. He extended the other one and looked at Ezio, a matching grin on his face.
“It has two parts,” he said.
Ezio’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “The hook and the blade,” he finished. Out of the corner of his eye, Desmond saw Altair look up in exasperation.
“The jacket is for wet work,” Altair said as he sheathed the blade.
“Yeah, bloodstains are a bitch to get out of white clothes,” Desmond said.
“You didn’t have to do it without a washing machine,” Ezio grumbled.
“Thank you,” Desmond told them.
“We work in the dark to serve the light,” Ezio said.
“We are Assassins,” Connor and Altair intoned.
“Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” all of them said as one.
Re: Citadel 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-04 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Citadel 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-04 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)Loved Desmond's idea of 'hiding in plain sight' as a bartender. And that Connor is the first one to find him.
i am wondering how Connor, Altair & Ezio tracked him down in the first place? Wouldn't the assasins have had him buried? If so, and they dug him up... Creepy. :)
Re: Citadel 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-04 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)I'm glad you enjoy!
(Just got a funny captcha: What is Charles name? CHARLES LEE!!!)
Re: Citadel 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-20 04:55 am (UTC)(link)Re: Citadel 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-12 01:34 am (UTC)(link)Re: Citadel 2a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-07-13 02:06 am (UTC)(link)