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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
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Part 1
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Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-14 01:25 am (UTC)(link)At present, wolves are something of a problem in the woods around Lexington. Winter is already drawing in, snow thick on the ground and hunger rampant among the predators of the wild. Not exactly the best conditions for camping without shelter. Connor has spent some days now in the shadow of the town, sleeping on hunter's platforms in the trees, simply watching and waiting. This is all he is allowed to do, he is to leave signs, a trail, behind him until the Templars take the bait. Which Yvette had assured him was inevitable the night before he left. He is starting to doubt it however. Years of living within the manor's brick walls have somewhat lowered his natural tolerance for the cold, to his dismay. Only the day before he had made an, admittedly brief, appearance at the nearest inn, as much for the sake of warming himself as creating an obvious trace to be followed up.
Lounging leisurely in the boughs of a particularly accommodating and well-situated tree he rubs his hands together. Even without the warning sounds of a nearby wolf pack the Assassin would not have felt the need to light a campfire. Flames bring him no comfort, quite the opposite. Still, he has to admit that he doesn't want to spend many more nights outside in this weather. A few more days and he will have to acknowledge that the plan hasn't worked. That idea disappoints him far more than it should.
It had taken quite a considerable amount of argument, debate and reconnaissance for this assignment to finally be condoned. Had Connor not had such a strong desire to do it then it would almost certainly have been dropped and an alternative course of action determined upon. Thankfully nobody had thought to wonder why he had such a keen interest in the idea. He knows that most of the others on the homestead still think this is a terrible mistake. Achilles himself had never given any particular clue as to his own opinion of the matter but his hesitation had nevertheless been clear. Quite a round of warnings and cautions had followed the teenager out of the door the day he departed. A part of him knows that this is dangerous, stupid even, yet still he remains, perched in a tree awaiting the arrival of a sworn enemy.
The dreams haven't stopped. If anything they have only become worse, more vivid, as time goes by. He can see it becoming something of a problem.
Approaching voices abruptly catch his attention, carrying on the wind along with the crunch of snow shifting. Even straining his ears he can't quite make out any words yet, but he can hear the distinct tones of two men. On horseback by the sounds of it. Connor tenses, quashing down a flare of hope that threatens to bloom. Being tracked and found is still counter-intuitive so he moves quickly and quietly up to a higher branch. Best to remain in cover until he is sure. As he waits he notices that the wolves have gone quiet, probably having moved on in their quest for sustenance.
'Braddock is insisting I return to service under him. I've tried to beg off to no avail.' It's a voice he is confident that he recognises, belonging to the one known as Charles. Not someone he is overly keen to interact with, along with all but one of the other Templars.
There can be no mistaking the identity of the one who responds however. He releases a breath he hadn't realised that he'd been holding; Haytham. 'No doubt he's still angry about losing Pitcairn, to say nothing of the shaming we gave him. Do as he asks, in the meantime I'll work on having you released.'
By murdering someone or other most likely, the novice tells himself. It probably isn't a good thing that he keeps needing to remind himself of something so fundamental, that whatever he may say or do, Haytham Kenway is and always will be the enemy. Nothing can change that. Assassins have died at his hands. Of course, such thinking really only serves to make him hesitate over the sense of what he is going to try and do.
'I'm sorry for the trouble.' Charles does sound very apologetic, almost as if he is worried about losing the approval of the grandmaster. Interesting.
'Not your fault.'
Moments later the pair ride into view, slowing to a halt at the edge of the clearing. Their attentions are focused on ground level, neither of them sparing more than a fleeting glance upwards towards the branches. Fortunate, for Connor is quite happy to simply observe them for the time being as he seems to be in no danger of being spotted. Yet. Haytham is the one to dismount, throwing his reins to the other man, in order to better examine what trail has been left for him. There isn't much: a patch of cleared earth, some footprints, a small pile of sticks that could be used for a fire, and tracks leading off through the snow in a misleading direction. Some habits are hard to break, the teenager doesn't entirely like the idea of being willingly hunted down.
From his present angle he cannot make out the Templar's face as he crouches, investigating. He can make no guess at what is passing through Haytham's mind, other than hoping for the best. The examination of the meagre clues does certainly seem to be fully occupying his attention.When the man addresses his companion again he dismisses him without looking up. 'You should return to Braddock, Charles, before he grows suspicious. I can handle things from here.'
His hesitation and dismay is clear, an impulse to be of use seeming to compete with the need to do as told. 'But sir-'
'But nothing, go.' Haytham's tone hardens, having no taste for the contradiction of his orders.
Biting back another protest, the subordinate hovers still for several long seconds before he thinks better of it. Without daring to disturb again he turns his horse, to start ploughing back through the snowbanks to return to the road. Connor isn't sure whether he intends to lead the other steed off with him, but he does. It doesn't take long for the sounds of the animals to fade, the wind picking up as he tries to keep his breathing quiet. Now would be the obvious time to reveal his presence, to approach the Templar, but he is wary. He doubts that it is a good idea to appear as if he had been spying and listening in on their words, even if that was in actual fact what he had been doing. Best not to appear too suspicious. More than that though, he finds himself becoming nervous. For the first time the pair of them are truly alone together, which is as worrying a thought as it is a strangely exhilarating one.
Trying not to think too much at all, the Assassin watches as his supposed camp undergoes a rather thorough examination. It is almost endearing to see the older man doing his best to decipher everything he can from the meagre traces. Clearly not much of a tracker. However when Haytham glances up, he scans the clearing with an unsettlingly intent look to his eyes. His head ducks back down again, still having paid little attention to the treetops. An oversight he will probably never be able to rely on again after today.
Judging that enough time has passed to justify his appearance, Connor shifts in his perch as quietly as he can and readies himself to make an unobtrusive entrance. That is when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches movement. Silent, bodies pressed low, a trio of wolves are approaching the crouched figure. They spy an easy meal. Already the alpha is almost at striking distance, the muscles in its legs visibly tensing in preparation for attack. Another second and it will strike.
The first Haytham appears to know of his stalkers is a loud, startled yelp. Hidden blade springing out, he spins only to be faced with the sight of two tails disappearing back into the woods and the body of a third wolf crumpled on the ground not a meter from him, an arrow impaled neatly through its neck. As his eyes visibly trace the line of the trajectory back to Connor's tree his body noticeably relaxes a little, weapon retracting. He doesn't perceive a threat, good. Shouldering his bow, the young Assassin swings himself down and slowly approaches the man.
'You should pay closer attention to your surroundings.' Hopefully Connor sounds more confident than he feels at that moment, as he turns his attention quickly towards the downed wolf. While he does wish to check that it is truly dead and that the kill was relatively clean, it does also give him a good excuse to avoid looking at the Templar properly just yet.
'So it would appear.' His tone is dry, yet it almost sounds as if the near miss has shaken him slightly, almost.
Running a hand along the creature's belly Connor feels protruding ribs. It is no wonder that the towns in this region of the frontier are being encroached upon, the harsh conditions are already depleting the stored fat of the animals. Nevertheless, this was still a healthy beast and he silently utters a small prayer for the wolf. A shame to fell it without making use of its remains but he has neither the time nor the need to do so at present. If the alpha is in such a state then its pack-mates will be worse, more famished and even more desperate. They will return, soon, for the readily available flesh of their kin if not for the temptation of the two currently exposed humans. No doubt they will also bring more.
Such is what he intends to communicate when he straightens, but that plan is somewhat derailed when he turns to find that his personal space has all but disappeared. His first, natural reflex is to take a step back, or ten. The dead wolf on the ground behind him rather impedes his ability to do so however. Not risking the challenge of looking the man in the face yet, he crosses his arms, turns his face away and takes the bluntest tack he can think of. Unfortunately the words come out more flustered than he likes. 'Why are you here?'
'It isn't obvious?' Haytham speaks, low but gentle, and that is exactly why this whole thing is a very bad idea.
Best not to play along, Connor decides, his posture not shifting in the slightest. 'Seems a lot of effort for little reward.'
'That remains to be seen.' Whether that is a threat or a promise he cannot be sure. There is a contemplative silence before the man prompts; 'A name would be a good start.'
'Ratonhnhaké:ton.' That at least he will freely give. Upon a moment's consideration he quickly raises a hand to cut off any inevitably poor attempts at pronunciation. As amusing as that could have been. 'But, outside of my village I go by Connor. It is easier.'
'Indeed it is.' His minor relief is audible and without thinking the teenager glances up to meet his eyes. Lips upturning at the small triumph, the Templar makes his own, unnecessary, introduction. 'I am Haytham.'
He really is in trouble. Just remember why you're here, he tells himself, why you're really here. It is a stroke of both great fortune and terrible luck that a chorus of howls promptly erupts from the surrounding woods. Mind quickly refocusing on the greater present danger, Connor breaks the dangerous gaze and casts his eyes around the edge of the clearing instead. Nothing visible, yet. Thankfully Haytham also takes the cue to move back somewhat, his hidden blade out as he intently surveys the tree-line himself. The wind is picking up again however, raising swirls of snow from the ground, whilst the sky is already beginning to turn dark. Bad conditions in which to be facing an onslaught by a hungry wolf pack of unknown numbers. Cautiously he reaches for his bow, not yet stringing an arrow but keeping one hand hovering over his quiver at the ready. He can't be certain what direction they are coming from, although he has a worrying feeling that the pair of them are being surrounded. Hunger is clearly motivating the beasts, making them desperate and reckless. Connor has no desire to fight them.
Both of them instinctively draw closer together, virtually back to back, as the young Assassin weighs up the options. It is a very bad situation, that much is obvious, but it is not an irredeemable one. Thinking fast, ever tense and watchful for the least sign of the imminent attack, he shoots a question over his shoulder. 'Have you climbed a tree before?'
'Can't say I've ever had much reason to do so.' His reply betrays little in the way of worry, his tone kept carefully clipped but tense nevertheless.
'Now is probably a bad time for your first lesson then.' A streak of grey in the shadows has Connor turning, fluidly notching an arrow yet finding nothing but snow in his sights. Subconsciously he takes another step closer to the other man. They are fast running out of time. 'We need to make for higher ground.'
'I'm afraid I rather doubt our chances of getting very far.'
Wolves are fast, true, faster than a man over distance. Should they trigger a chase then the pack will undeniably overtake them with ease. To run is to become exposed and vulnerable. He senses that the trap is rapidly closing however, as the barks and howls get louder. Virtually every advantage seems to lie with the starving beasts, the loss of their alpha has hardly impaired their hunt. An idea flares in his mind then. Of course, the carcass. A distraction.
Edging away from the relative safety of the Templar, he moves to the body as fast as he dares. The scent of fresh blood should be irresistible to the famished creatures. Keeping his ears alert, he crouches down quickly to slit the dead wolf's belly wide open. Red runs freely from the gaping gash, staining the snow beneath. He hopes that it will be enough, that the smell will carry enough to fog the senses of the pack and make them forget their still living prey. A telling pause in the cries from the beyond the trees seems to confirm his theory. If the pair of them are to escape unscathed then they need to move now.
Fortunately, a little disconcertingly, he finds that Haytham is half-watching him even as he monitors the clearing's edge. Already moving cautiously and quietly away from the growing pool of blood he beckons. While the man's eyes may narrow he still follows, much to the native's relief. Connor's plan is to head for a rocky outcrop that overlooks Lexington, or more specifically its inn. That should afford some greater safety. They have achieved a fair distance when the telltale noise of a feeding frenzy rises behind them, and while neither relaxes fully just yet, he shoots a sly smile at his companion.
'You doubted me?'
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-15 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)Loving the regretful thoughts Connor has over the wolf as well as his being very practical in using the carcass to lure the other wolves away.
It looks like they are even in the saving of lives department. :)
Question, does Connor have Eagle Vision through a different ancestor? Or just normal sight?
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-20 12:10 am (UTC)(link)Yeah, I read it that Connor has a natural respect for other living creatures, particularly from that little clip you get when you skin an animal in-game. So he doesn't really like having to kill animals if they aren't going to at least be put to some sort of use later on. And as a hunter he's probably a bit more pragmatic about facing a hungry wolf pack than Haytham is.
Indeed, but for how long I wonder. ;)
That's the second time I've been asked that. I've been sort-of subtly hinting (I think), but yes, Connor does have Eagle Vision here. He's still descended from Altair and Ezio, his lineage just splits off a little further down the line, so he's kind of a very distant cousin to Haytham (in much the same way that Desmond and Clay are related).
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-18 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)