“Well ain’t that fuckin’ rude!” Thomas groused, splitting off in the opposite direction. Regrettably, there were only just over a dozen or so homes and barns to use for concealment here along the outskirts of town. Also, the moon was three-quarters full above. So sticking to the darkness was that much more difficult. Luckily, this was far from his first brush with the authorities.
Retracing his way back to the inn, he elbowed his way through a cadre of couples lounging, drinking and getting handsy with each other along one of its walls. Bordered by the stables on the other side, it formed a confined alleyway. Catching his breath, he slumped back against a stack of crates about midway through the alley.
His fingers snaked to the dagger sheathed next to his sword as a hand hitched him to the ground by his coat sleeve. Naturally, she slapped away his strike. Hard enough for him to lose his grip and allow her to pluck his own weapon from him. Mercifully, Connor only handed it back to him without a word.
“Jesus bloody Christ!” he sniped as she wrenched him down into a crouch beside her, “How in the hell did ya be findin’ me?!”
“Practice,” she flatly replied, swiping a finger in front of her mouth and signaling for him to remain quiet. Holding their breaths, they waited for a couple of minutes. Finally popping her head up over the crates, she saw no soldiers in the vicinity.
“Look ‘ere, love,” Thomas muttered.
“You were saying?” she asked, cautiously moving from their hiding spot. Dusting herself off, she slightly rocked back on her heels as he hauled himself to his feet.
“I know how much ya hate bein’ touched-”
“By strangers,” she corrected, adamantly pointing at him as he turned to face her.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he waved, frantically looking around before closing the space between them.
She took a step backwards, only to find her back hemmed in by the wall. In spite of it, no sense of threat itched along her spine. Nor did she feel specifically trapped. “You are not exactly a friend,” she deliberately replied, “Far from it, in fact.”
“Still, ya ain’t gonna stab me then?” he flashed her a distantly vexed grin.
Opening her mouth to reply only to shut it again, she cocked her head to the side, gaze flashing a bit. “That depends on your next actions-”
Both their heads whipped around at the dreaded noise of redcoats cursing and bellowing out to search the alleyway. Most of the drunks cursed them as they were shoved to the ground and into the wall. The sounds of muskets being loaded and boots tramping along the road promptly followed. Summarily taking in that the end of the alley was too far away to flee to without arousing suspicion, Connor let out a rumble of aggravation before craning her head upwards.
“Up!” she gestured, “We go over the rooftops-”
“‘Cept I can’t fuckin’ climb, sweetheart!” Thomas whispered in exasperation, already slipping down the alleyway, “Well, not half as suicidal ‘n bedlam-y as ya always be want to do, ya nutter!”
Head twitching in disagreement, she began pulling herself upwards and setting her feet along the crevices of the bricks. “So,” she sniffed, glancing down at him, “What do you propose, Hickey?”
“That we be-”
“Over there!” a redcoat thundered.
“Oh, for the bloody love of Christ!” Thomas rolled his eyes. Snatching out, he yanked her down from the bricks by the waist of her breeches. Not expecting resistance, she flailed for a second. It allowed him the drop her on her feet, grab her by the shoulders and spin her about to face him. As he manhandled her scrambling form up against the wall, he barely ducked her instinctive punch to his chin while jerking his hips away from her knee to his crotch. “It don’t be makin’ no sense if we split up!” he hissed, “So stop movin’ ‘bout so bloody much!” ”
Growling, she bared her teeth until the sound of trashcans getting knocked over and a stray cat yowling in protest hit their ears. As the patrol closed in, he dropped his hands to her upper arms “Don’t ya fuckin’ go shankin’ the shit outta me for what I’m ‘bout to do, poppet!” he ordered.
Her eyes widened at the feel of him suddenly pressed up to her. His calloused thumb dropping to her chin, she argued, “What are you…mmph!”
Oh. So that was why he insisted on telling her not to kill him.
His mouth claimed hers, though not nearly as rough, sloppy or frankly as utterly dreadful as she assumed he would be. If anything, he simply pressed his lips to hers. It was also rather difficult to ignore how his other hand languidly trailed down her back. Instinctively leaning up into him, she strived to match his cues. For like in all things, she absolutely refused to let the challenge go unanswered. He apparently approved as she parted her lips and opened to him. Pulling her closer, his other hand tangled in her hair. Her own hands limply hanging at her sides, she didn’t know whether to feel gratified or dismayed at how his startling moan sent a strange sort quiver tingling along her skin.
She’d been kissed before, back in her village. When she and Kanen'tó:kon were but silly youths, pawing and groping at each other in the usual, teenage explorations that came with the confusion of maturity. Thankfully, they promptly realized they preferred their deep and abiding friendship to all else. Besides, he viewed her more as a brother than a potential marriage prospect. She thought the same of him, thoroughly content in their enduring bond.
But this was miles different from whatever she’d done before.
Feeling herself start to slide along the wall, she reached out and fisted her hands into the collar of the coat. He responded by firmly bracing his legs on either side of hers and lightly pushing his hips forward. His fingers moving from the small of her back, he dipped beneath her long coat and lightly stroked up her side. Thumb coming to rest along her ribcage, he began drawing random little circles along her waistcoat. Her breath hitched at the unexpected spasm of ticklish pleasure, allowing his tongue leisurely slip against hers. He tasted of gin and apples, heady and wholly singular.
Withdrawing for a tick only to lean back in and lightly nip along her bottom lip, he let out low chuckle, deep in his throat.
“Connor?” he repeated again.
“W-what?” her dark eyes snapped open, pupils dilated. Freckled cheeks practically crimson, her hands somehow found their way up to his neck. Not to strangle him this time. Far from it, in fact.
“They be gone,” his voice danced along her cheek, thumb still trailing along her side. “We should go ‘n get the fuck outta here, yeah?”
She inexplicably leaned into his touch as his other hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and beneath her hood. “That…would be best” she swallowed.
“Um-hmm.”
Pushing himself off the wall, he gave an exaggerated bow and gestured with a flourish of his hand for her to lead to way. Inwardly cursing at how wobbly her legs felt, she was thankful for the darkness. It allowed her to use the excuse of feeling along the wall to explain away why she moved so slowly. Then again, the handful of redcoats that abruptly appeared behind them at the opposite end of the alleyway created an excellent distraction as dwell.
Too bad they had their muskets pointed straight at them as they ignored everyone else milling about.
“Duck and run!” she hissed.
“Don’t ‘ave to go a tellin’ me twice!” he grunted.
Bobbing and eluding the gunfire, they sped out of the passageway and into the dirt streets. Swiftly scaling a barn, Connor lost the patrol’s line of sight within a few moments. Tailing Hickey from the rooftops as he ducked in and out of the faint moonlight, she had to admit her approval at finding him able to lose his pursuers almost just as quickly. It created less trouble to deal with on her end. Doubling back on his path, he ducked into some stables. Waiting for a bit, he popped back out into the open again. At the same time, Connor deliberately let herself drop into view from the roof of a home right in front of him. This time, he didn’t startle at her unexpected appearance.
Instead, he cocked his head to the side and smirked, “So ya all in one piece?”
“Decidedly so,” she nodded in agreement. Ignoring her primary need to shrilly ask what in the hell he thought he was pulling back there in the alley, she forced thoughts back to the task at hand. “So,” she cleared her throat, willing her voice to sound thoroughly neutral, “What did Miss Mallow have to say for herself?”
“Perhaps that ‘I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery,’ should suffice?” a vicious, familiar snarl hit Hickey’s ear out of the shadows to his left.
Anyone else, and he would’ve found a couple of his teeth knocked out by her strike to his jaw. Thankfully, he evaded the hit, dashing backwards into the alley and reeling back for an assault. But without warning, a flurry of white zipped in front him, causing him to stop short. For Connor hurled herself right into the Red Coat’s midsection. The force of it sent both of them to ground in a painful flurry of kicking, scratching and punching.
Neither of them seemed to land a solid hit, rolling and scrabbling around in the dirt. Suddenly, Eleanor sent up an infuriated howl. Jumping back off of her, Connor rapidly unsheathed her French cutlass. Strangely, rather than attacking, she waited. Patiently tapping the glinting, silver blade against her thigh, she also unsheathed her dirk. Their finely honed metal sparkling in the moonlight, it was evident both weapons cost a pretty penny.
Clambering to her feet, Eleanor’s hand went to the back of her head. Eyes slitting to dark threat, she hissed, “Your ‘lil minion ripped out my hair, Thomas!”
“Your failed attempt to do so with me first is all you have to blame,” Connor nonchalantly replied, in spite of her glower.
“And since when did you start getting your lurid jollies from fucking the forest fruit, my dear Tom?” Eleanor sharply replied, ignoring Connor.
“I firmly suggest that you shut your-”
“Come’en now, ladies,” Thomas shot the General’s daughter an enticing grin as he passed a hand in front of Connor, cutting her off. “Ain’t no reason for things to go and gettin’ all ugly up in ‘ere.”
“I do not require you to defend me,” Connor grit her teeth, advancing on the Templar.
Eleanor snickered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Ah, I see, she’s quite the insolent one.” Eyes flicking over the Connor in apathetic evaluation, she shrugged and unsheathed her spadroon and parrying dagger as well. “Hmph," she curled her lip with derision, "You’ve always had a particular appreciation for the impertinent, presumptuous types that never seem to know their place. A pity,” she whirled her weapons in her hands before testily cutting her sword through the air, “I always thought you considerably loyal to old Kenway. Then again, here you are, prancing about town with an actual assassin.”
“Ya don’t know the half ‘o it,” he sneered, baring his teeth in warning.
“Don’t I?” Eleanor raised an elegant brow of question. “No matter how tight the quim, nor how much she enjoys being on her knees in front of you, I doubt your betrayal to the Order will be worth it.”
Connor’s malicious grimace of rebuke making his eyes going wide, Thomas cracked his knuckles and barked, “Now, ya just wait one fuckin’ minute, ‘ere-!”
“Stand and deliver, Miss Mallow,” Connor boldly commanded, going into an offensive stance and shoving Thomas out of the way.
“Oh my, the Indian mongrel knows the rules of a duel?” Eleanor exclaimed with false surprise. “Too bad that I shall have to kill her, Tom. A supposedly civilized savage could be worth its weight in gold. Particularly back in the cities.”
Connor lashed out first, diving forward with flawless balance and arching her blade upwards. Yet Eleanor effortlessly met her strokes, winding back and crossing her blade with Connor’s. A handful of flicks of her wrist and she pressed the assassin backwards. Connor slamming into the brick wall of the alley, it allowed the Red Coat to slice off one of the buttons of her long coat.
Looking down in exasperation, the assassin clenched her jaw. Letting out a loud exhalation of boredom, the Templar rolled her eyes and taunted, “You are so amateur! At least endeavor to keep me awake whilst I end you, eh?”
Well, she certainly didn’t take too kindly to the flash of Connor’s dirk suddenly grazing her cheek. Mouth dropping open with a gasp, Eleanor reached up to feel a line of blood starting to form along her face. “Nice try,” she scowled, wiping it away, “Except you missed.”
“Hardly,” Connor sniffed, “Do you really think my aim so poor that I could not take out your eye at a mere five paces?” Looking over her shoulder for a brief moment, she arched a brow at Thomas, taking in how he casually leaned against the wall.
“Ain’t me fight, darlin’,” he drawled. “Hell, ya be the one who be callin’ her out,” he shrugged and crossed his arms at Connor’s scowl.
“Why am I not surprised?” she droned.
“Yeah, don’t go feelin’ so bad,” Hickey shook his head in agreement from where he stood a good distance away from them. “If I be a bettin’ sort, which I very well be, me pounds be goin’ on you, frankly. Sorry, sweetheart,” he winked at Eleanor, who fumed in disbelief, “Nothin’ personal. ‘Cept ya haven’t gone ‘n had the privilege of seein' that maddenin’ one in action,” he indicated at Connor. “No matter the asinine odds, she don’t never be backin’ down, ‘tis all.”
“Enough of this mindless chatter!” the Red Coat bellowed, stomping her foot in indignation. “En garde!” she charged headlong, swinging her blade with efficient, deadly aplomb.
Re: FILL: Short Change Heroes, Part 16a/?
Retracing his way back to the inn, he elbowed his way through a cadre of couples lounging, drinking and getting handsy with each other along one of its walls. Bordered by the stables on the other side, it formed a confined alleyway. Catching his breath, he slumped back against a stack of crates about midway through the alley.
His fingers snaked to the dagger sheathed next to his sword as a hand hitched him to the ground by his coat sleeve. Naturally, she slapped away his strike. Hard enough for him to lose his grip and allow her to pluck his own weapon from him. Mercifully, Connor only handed it back to him without a word.
“Jesus bloody Christ!” he sniped as she wrenched him down into a crouch beside her, “How in the hell did ya be findin’ me?!”
“Practice,” she flatly replied, swiping a finger in front of her mouth and signaling for him to remain quiet. Holding their breaths, they waited for a couple of minutes. Finally popping her head up over the crates, she saw no soldiers in the vicinity.
“Look ‘ere, love,” Thomas muttered.
“You were saying?” she asked, cautiously moving from their hiding spot. Dusting herself off, she slightly rocked back on her heels as he hauled himself to his feet.
“I know how much ya hate bein’ touched-”
“By strangers,” she corrected, adamantly pointing at him as he turned to face her.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he waved, frantically looking around before closing the space between them.
She took a step backwards, only to find her back hemmed in by the wall. In spite of it, no sense of threat itched along her spine. Nor did she feel specifically trapped. “You are not exactly a friend,” she deliberately replied, “Far from it, in fact.”
“Still, ya ain’t gonna stab me then?” he flashed her a distantly vexed grin.
Opening her mouth to reply only to shut it again, she cocked her head to the side, gaze flashing a bit. “That depends on your next actions-”
Both their heads whipped around at the dreaded noise of redcoats cursing and bellowing out to search the alleyway. Most of the drunks cursed them as they were shoved to the ground and into the wall. The sounds of muskets being loaded and boots tramping along the road promptly followed. Summarily taking in that the end of the alley was too far away to flee to without arousing suspicion, Connor let out a rumble of aggravation before craning her head upwards.
“Up!” she gestured, “We go over the rooftops-”
“‘Cept I can’t fuckin’ climb, sweetheart!” Thomas whispered in exasperation, already slipping down the alleyway, “Well, not half as suicidal ‘n bedlam-y as ya always be want to do, ya nutter!”
Head twitching in disagreement, she began pulling herself upwards and setting her feet along the crevices of the bricks. “So,” she sniffed, glancing down at him, “What do you propose, Hickey?”
“That we be-”
“Over there!” a redcoat thundered.
“Oh, for the bloody love of Christ!” Thomas rolled his eyes. Snatching out, he yanked her down from the bricks by the waist of her breeches. Not expecting resistance, she flailed for a second. It allowed him the drop her on her feet, grab her by the shoulders and spin her about to face him. As he manhandled her scrambling form up against the wall, he barely ducked her instinctive punch to his chin while jerking his hips away from her knee to his crotch. “It don’t be makin’ no sense if we split up!” he hissed, “So stop movin’ ‘bout so bloody much!” ”
Growling, she bared her teeth until the sound of trashcans getting knocked over and a stray cat yowling in protest hit their ears. As the patrol closed in, he dropped his hands to her upper arms “Don’t ya fuckin’ go shankin’ the shit outta me for what I’m ‘bout to do, poppet!” he ordered.
Her eyes widened at the feel of him suddenly pressed up to her. His calloused thumb dropping to her chin, she argued, “What are you…mmph!”
Oh. So that was why he insisted on telling her not to kill him.
His mouth claimed hers, though not nearly as rough, sloppy or frankly as utterly dreadful as she assumed he would be. If anything, he simply pressed his lips to hers. It was also rather difficult to ignore how his other hand languidly trailed down her back. Instinctively leaning up into him, she strived to match his cues. For like in all things, she absolutely refused to let the challenge go unanswered. He apparently approved as she parted her lips and opened to him. Pulling her closer, his other hand tangled in her hair. Her own hands limply hanging at her sides, she didn’t know whether to feel gratified or dismayed at how his startling moan sent a strange sort quiver tingling along her skin.
She’d been kissed before, back in her village. When she and Kanen'tó:kon were but silly youths, pawing and groping at each other in the usual, teenage explorations that came with the confusion of maturity. Thankfully, they promptly realized they preferred their deep and abiding friendship to all else. Besides, he viewed her more as a brother than a potential marriage prospect. She thought the same of him, thoroughly content in their enduring bond.
But this was miles different from whatever she’d done before.
Feeling herself start to slide along the wall, she reached out and fisted her hands into the collar of the coat. He responded by firmly bracing his legs on either side of hers and lightly pushing his hips forward. His fingers moving from the small of her back, he dipped beneath her long coat and lightly stroked up her side. Thumb coming to rest along her ribcage, he began drawing random little circles along her waistcoat. Her breath hitched at the unexpected spasm of ticklish pleasure, allowing his tongue leisurely slip against hers. He tasted of gin and apples, heady and wholly singular.
Withdrawing for a tick only to lean back in and lightly nip along her bottom lip, he let out low chuckle, deep in his throat.
“Connor?” he repeated again.
“W-what?” her dark eyes snapped open, pupils dilated. Freckled cheeks practically crimson, her hands somehow found their way up to his neck. Not to strangle him this time. Far from it, in fact.
“They be gone,” his voice danced along her cheek, thumb still trailing along her side. “We should go ‘n get the fuck outta here, yeah?”
She inexplicably leaned into his touch as his other hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and beneath her hood. “That…would be best” she swallowed.
“Um-hmm.”
Pushing himself off the wall, he gave an exaggerated bow and gestured with a flourish of his hand for her to lead to way. Inwardly cursing at how wobbly her legs felt, she was thankful for the darkness. It allowed her to use the excuse of feeling along the wall to explain away why she moved so slowly. Then again, the handful of redcoats that abruptly appeared behind them at the opposite end of the alleyway created an excellent distraction as dwell.
Too bad they had their muskets pointed straight at them as they ignored everyone else milling about.
“Duck and run!” she hissed.
“Don’t ‘ave to go a tellin’ me twice!” he grunted.
Bobbing and eluding the gunfire, they sped out of the passageway and into the dirt streets. Swiftly scaling a barn, Connor lost the patrol’s line of sight within a few moments. Tailing Hickey from the rooftops as he ducked in and out of the faint moonlight, she had to admit her approval at finding him able to lose his pursuers almost just as quickly. It created less trouble to deal with on her end. Doubling back on his path, he ducked into some stables. Waiting for a bit, he popped back out into the open again. At the same time, Connor deliberately let herself drop into view from the roof of a home right in front of him. This time, he didn’t startle at her unexpected appearance.
Instead, he cocked his head to the side and smirked, “So ya all in one piece?”
“Decidedly so,” she nodded in agreement. Ignoring her primary need to shrilly ask what in the hell he thought he was pulling back there in the alley, she forced thoughts back to the task at hand. “So,” she cleared her throat, willing her voice to sound thoroughly neutral, “What did Miss Mallow have to say for herself?”
“Perhaps that ‘I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery,’ should suffice?” a vicious, familiar snarl hit Hickey’s ear out of the shadows to his left.
Anyone else, and he would’ve found a couple of his teeth knocked out by her strike to his jaw. Thankfully, he evaded the hit, dashing backwards into the alley and reeling back for an assault. But without warning, a flurry of white zipped in front him, causing him to stop short. For Connor hurled herself right into the Red Coat’s midsection. The force of it sent both of them to ground in a painful flurry of kicking, scratching and punching.
Neither of them seemed to land a solid hit, rolling and scrabbling around in the dirt. Suddenly, Eleanor sent up an infuriated howl. Jumping back off of her, Connor rapidly unsheathed her French cutlass. Strangely, rather than attacking, she waited. Patiently tapping the glinting, silver blade against her thigh, she also unsheathed her dirk. Their finely honed metal sparkling in the moonlight, it was evident both weapons cost a pretty penny.
Clambering to her feet, Eleanor’s hand went to the back of her head. Eyes slitting to dark threat, she hissed, “Your ‘lil minion ripped out my hair, Thomas!”
“Your failed attempt to do so with me first is all you have to blame,” Connor nonchalantly replied, in spite of her glower.
“And since when did you start getting your lurid jollies from fucking the forest fruit, my dear Tom?” Eleanor sharply replied, ignoring Connor.
“I firmly suggest that you shut your-”
“Come’en now, ladies,” Thomas shot the General’s daughter an enticing grin as he passed a hand in front of Connor, cutting her off. “Ain’t no reason for things to go and gettin’ all ugly up in ‘ere.”
“I do not require you to defend me,” Connor grit her teeth, advancing on the Templar.
Eleanor snickered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Ah, I see, she’s quite the insolent one.” Eyes flicking over the Connor in apathetic evaluation, she shrugged and unsheathed her spadroon and parrying dagger as well. “Hmph," she curled her lip with derision, "You’ve always had a particular appreciation for the impertinent, presumptuous types that never seem to know their place. A pity,” she whirled her weapons in her hands before testily cutting her sword through the air, “I always thought you considerably loyal to old Kenway. Then again, here you are, prancing about town with an actual assassin.”
“Ya don’t know the half ‘o it,” he sneered, baring his teeth in warning.
“Don’t I?” Eleanor raised an elegant brow of question. “No matter how tight the quim, nor how much she enjoys being on her knees in front of you, I doubt your betrayal to the Order will be worth it.”
Connor’s malicious grimace of rebuke making his eyes going wide, Thomas cracked his knuckles and barked, “Now, ya just wait one fuckin’ minute, ‘ere-!”
“Stand and deliver, Miss Mallow,” Connor boldly commanded, going into an offensive stance and shoving Thomas out of the way.
“Oh my, the Indian mongrel knows the rules of a duel?” Eleanor exclaimed with false surprise. “Too bad that I shall have to kill her, Tom. A supposedly civilized savage could be worth its weight in gold. Particularly back in the cities.”
Connor lashed out first, diving forward with flawless balance and arching her blade upwards. Yet Eleanor effortlessly met her strokes, winding back and crossing her blade with Connor’s. A handful of flicks of her wrist and she pressed the assassin backwards. Connor slamming into the brick wall of the alley, it allowed the Red Coat to slice off one of the buttons of her long coat.
Looking down in exasperation, the assassin clenched her jaw. Letting out a loud exhalation of boredom, the Templar rolled her eyes and taunted, “You are so amateur! At least endeavor to keep me awake whilst I end you, eh?”
Well, she certainly didn’t take too kindly to the flash of Connor’s dirk suddenly grazing her cheek. Mouth dropping open with a gasp, Eleanor reached up to feel a line of blood starting to form along her face. “Nice try,” she scowled, wiping it away, “Except you missed.”
“Hardly,” Connor sniffed, “Do you really think my aim so poor that I could not take out your eye at a mere five paces?” Looking over her shoulder for a brief moment, she arched a brow at Thomas, taking in how he casually leaned against the wall.
“Ain’t me fight, darlin’,” he drawled. “Hell, ya be the one who be callin’ her out,” he shrugged and crossed his arms at Connor’s scowl.
“Why am I not surprised?” she droned.
“Yeah, don’t go feelin’ so bad,” Hickey shook his head in agreement from where he stood a good distance away from them. “If I be a bettin’ sort, which I very well be, me pounds be goin’ on you, frankly. Sorry, sweetheart,” he winked at Eleanor, who fumed in disbelief, “Nothin’ personal. ‘Cept ya haven’t gone ‘n had the privilege of seein' that maddenin’ one in action,” he indicated at Connor. “No matter the asinine odds, she don’t never be backin’ down, ‘tis all.”
“Enough of this mindless chatter!” the Red Coat bellowed, stomping her foot in indignation. “En garde!” she charged headlong, swinging her blade with efficient, deadly aplomb.