25 - She/her Feel free to call me Rumi! Search 'Rumidraws' for my art. This is my Assassin's Creed side account. Rumibelle is my main. ALWAYS happy to talk about Henry Green, or anything else Assassin's Creed related.
So in AC Underworld when Evie and Henry raid the Kenway Mansion, Evie mentions that she can play “a little piano”, if she needs to imitate a genteel lady, and Henry remarks that he would love to hear her play.
So naturally I spent my entire week off doing an artwork for that -_- (I have never done a background like this before so I suspect that’s why it took so long… maybe)
Anyway, I hope someone enjoys this as much as I did. I will not stop making art until Henry Green gets the love he deserves.
The Henry Green Hatchet statue! I already had the Evie one so they are together finally 🥺 (Notice how tall he is 👀)
Also I have no idea how she managed to get it (and the magazine) because I really checked and it just did not exist. So I headcannon that it went something like this:
One of my many headcanons for the Frye twins and Henry is that, if they were in a Pokemon universe, Evie would have water type starter pokemon, Jacob would have fire and Henry certainly grass type
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I am not sure if Jacob would choose Chinchar or Litten (personaly i think Chinchar, due to their agility)
With Evie I think Sobble and Henry Rowlett or Sprigatito
I am mainly choosing based of their final evolution
"Come into these arms again
And lay your body down
The rhythm of this trembling heart
Is beating like a drum
It beats for you, it bleeds for you
It knows not how it sounds
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs
Once I had a rarest rose
That ever deigned to bloom
Cruel winter chilled the bud
And stole my flower too soon
Oh loneliness, oh hopelessness
To search the ends of time
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine"
--"Love Song for a Vampire (Be Mine Forever)" by Karliene
Evening Evening everyone!
Sorry for the delay with which I share this, but I had a visit from Mr. Rona that forced me to be stranded on the couch for since last Thursday and made me work at a snail pace whenever I had enough strength to sit upright!
Anyway! allow me to finally share this :) Last week I was rereading small snippets of a Dracula!AU I created in 2020 (and I think I also shared a one-shot connected to that AU on my main blog, if I recall correctly) while listening to music, and I just HAD to draw this, because nothing makes me going like Jacob and Dottie in my Dracula!AU, with him literally crossing oceans of time to find her again. it's just UGH EVERYTHING for me. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.
ngl the tears kinda went down while artworking, but it was all worth it, because I loved every moment of it. The husband as well was immensely happy with how this turned out (Dracula is a favourite of his), so double happiness also for me :)
If this bloody headache will give me some respite, I would gladly share just a small snippet of the story :)
As usual, the textures the outfits, the hair, the expressions!!! All amazing! Nothing makes me happier than to come back to tumblr and see another of your artworks <3 hoping your headache goes away soon so we can get the story! (And also so you can get more well-deserved better quality rest) But seriously, the way you draw makes me NEED to know more.
okok this is actually. So important to me. Hold on
Syndicate is a coming of age story more than any other AC. It's about getting over the impact left by your imperfect father (who was a good father beside everything. Who was the worst father beside everything. And both of these facts are equally true), as well as growing apart from your sibling, the closest person you ever have had or will have in your life.
Before London, the twins shared a room (stated in the novel! When they were little Jacob would also crawl in Evie's bed when he was feeling bad). Yes I'm projecting to my own relationship to my twin, but I feel like as kids they shared their hyperfixations as they shared everything else. From stories to friends and later stuff like engines, history, music and weapons, they would share their interests and feed each others fixations. They were this endless force of energy and passion for the things they liked. That made them obviously a bit weird for the other kids, and their friendgroup never grew that big. They weren't necessarily bullied. Mostly because they were scary and somehow knew how to fight like professional brawlers. But the isolation didn't matter when they had their best friend literally sleeping just across their shared room.
In London, however, They met Henry. More specifically, Evie met Henry. And through him she met other people. Acquaitances, friends. She was easy to like with her practiced good mannerism and iron core. Despite both of them having a few crushes and being in shortlived relationships in the past, Jacob had never felt so betrayed by Evie before. He barely saw her some days. When they did meet, she made him feel inferior to her. Like he was dumber and his ideas stupid, his ways too much.
He did have his own friends, yes. But he didn't have a Henry. Or even a carriage on his own, but he had to sleep on a couch. Somedays he felt like he didn't have a sister, either.
They fought a lot. Only verbally, thanfully, otherwise the consequences might have been dire. He had hoped that without their father always looking down on him and acting like he was lesser, freedom would have awiated him in London. Instead it was his own sister scoffing at his gang or sighing when he'd propose an action plan. He found himself acting out on purpose. Causing Evie and everyone more distress. He knew working with Maxwell Roth was a bad call, but since Evie told him not to answer his invite, he couldn't resist.
And obviously it had cost him. And many other people. He felt used and numb and now Evie could hardly stand the sight of him. A theater had burned down and there was still a search going on for missing people in the ashy ruins. Most importanly, his heart was shattered and his feelings and thoughts were a tangled mess he couldn't understand.
They almost parted ways with Evie, too. But after the take down of the Templar empire in the making and being knighted, something changed. With the burden of Starrick's order lifted from their shoulders and the fresh memory of nearly losing the other, they felt like they could finally take their time to talk. In the following days they went through the time since their father passed: the grief, a still open wound the change of scenery had only ripped wider open. The need to quickly find a place in the big city, forgetting to make room for the other. It wasn't easy, and not everything was said. Of course nothing could ever be the same. That is what time does. An orphaned 22-years old can never be 10 and living in the attic room of their father. But they could always move forward.
The common interests help them heal their relationships quicker than anything else. It's easy to feel like a child again, when you and your sister keep finding childlike joy and wonder in things you both love. And they had a few years of information they had separately learned to share!
They are different, older, perhaps wiser, for sure more experienced, but still the unstoppable Frye twins with their weird hobbies and interests. Through thick and thin.
stuff from the brainstorm that went down in the comments (and even more additions):
-he plays the drums with the band and guitar/bass at home. he shreds HEAVY
-drums were like a natural thing to him. The motion works as a vessel for any emotion. It works as a stim
-he doesn't sing nor lead the band, but he does write lyrics. his songs are often political or ideologically heavy. They are always angry (i love you anti-capitalist and anti-colonialist metal)
- Ziio is his biggest fan. She originally got him into rock and let him explore music freely, making him go through an emo phase, then a punk rock and finally metal
-she attends any show she can and she is always in the pit, as close to the stage as possible
-Haytham is a type of parent to drag their kids to piano lessons against their will since young age, making them eventually grow up hating classical music and their parents and playing, but also being very good at it (i was almost raised like that and Im glad my parents listened when I wanted to quit and could play on my own terms!! Now I'm good at playing the horn but still love classical and didn't burn out as a kid)
-Ziio saw this happening and went "absolutely not." Since then Ratohnhaké:ton has been free to explore music by himself, tho his mother was a huge influence
-Haytham HATES metal and he hates the band and knowing his son is involved with those people
-the cool genes only skipped a generation. Edward was in a garage trash metal band when he was younger and he still listens to metal and comes to his grandson's gigs. To Haytham's displeasure, he and Ziio are good friends.
-Achilles is pretty indifferent but he would get pulverized the second he came to a gig
I love this so much but it's funny I literally have an AC metal band au where Connor is the Bassist lol. I'm absorbing these headcannons though, thanks.
In The Heat of the Moment Chapter 4 - Homeward Bound
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3
Words Count: 7981
Warning: None
Dorothea
January 1868, London
The first thing that hit Dorothea was the smell: abhorrent, a stinging stench, almost choking in its miasmic pungency.
Phillip had warned her that it would have been a shockful amalgamation of foul odors, but at first, the young woman had deemed her cousin, with his penchant for the dramatic, exaggerated in his assertion.
Now, as she wrinkled her nose with barely masked revulsion painted on her otherwise delicate features, she found herself thinking that, mayhaps, her cousin hadn’t been dramatic at all.
Her sensitive nose had grown so accustomed to the fresh clean air of the surrounding forest of Sturefors, in Sweden -her mother’s ancestral home- that breathing the less-than-salubre air of London felt like a slap to her face and an execrable invasion of her nostrils.
Making sure no one would hear her, Dorothea allowed herself to let out a sigh, barely audible, yet lingering like haze in the cold winter air .
She had known she would miss Sturefors Slott the moment she had set foot in the carriage her mother’s family had prepared for her to bring her to the southern part of the country, where she had taken the ship that had brought her back to London.
Sturefors Slott -despite its name- wasn’t truly a castle as they intended them back in her beloved England, with their towering stone walls and turrets, built during the early middle age to protect the Lords and their people from the barbaric invasion; rather, it was a Hall, elegant and refined if modest in its appearance, nestled within the soft embrace of an endless vastness of evergreens and a clear lake, just outside the door.
Closing her eyes, she wished she could fool herself that it was not smog what she was breathing, but the fresh tingly scent of crushed pine needles and musk and balmy resin.
