Gone but not Forgotten

An independent Assassin's Creed RP Blog for Desmond Miles, post-AC3, mild AU. Check the Muse page for more information. Also, whatever you do, just don't call him "Dave". Tag with desmonddied. M!Anon: [ come at him ] Open Starters: [ Winter Weather ] Askbox Starters and Meme: [ x ] IC Tweets: [x] IC Journal Log: [x] IC Doodles: [x]

[desmond-died]

I made a discord account to try and get up to speed with Internet Funsies. ...how the hell does this work?

[desmond-died]

[open] Winter Weather

[desmond-died]

egyptiandeathgod:

He flinched when the jacket was put on him. Unable to resist being drawn to the warmth & scent soothing his caution. He looks in the direction indicated. 

A merchant with an odd contraption. It appears to keep the food warm.

Noticing Desmond’s arm, he frowned. Squinting & poking at it.

“Primitive creation.”

The biotech his people have are far better than this. The wrist joint could be easily broken with force. It wasn’t fully bonded to the body so if one were to hang off an object, the tech would rip off.

He begins to walk towards the scent of food, mouth watering & stumbling over a small hill of grass. Legs trembling slightly. The jacket is huge on him. Flipping up the hood & part of the sleeves hanging.

“ Sokran. ”

(Thank you.)

He does have manners after all. Ingrained until it stuck by his older sister. Once he gets close, he hides behind the Assassin.

Well shit. The little guy did speak English. Good to know. Easier on the brain.

“You’re welcome.” he responded, slowly leading off toward the cart. Desmond disregarded the comment about his arm. He’d been told it was top of the line Abstergo tech and considering the thumb was jointed, instead of static and the wrist had practically 360 degrees of rotational movement, he wasn’t going to complain.

But at the cart, he gestured to the items currently grilling and once the young boy had made his pick, ordered two: one for now and a second in case the boy was still hungry afterward. Paying the man and passing over the first, Desmond stepped aside, leading the other to a spot less crowded by tourists and hopefully less visible to the video cameras in the area.

“Where’d you come from anyway? Did someone hurt you?” Abstergo’s Templars weren’t exactly known for their kind bedside manner so it was hard to do anything but assume the worst, especially with an assassin child.

[desmond-died]

Amended Intro for Historical Players

[desmond-died]

egyptiandeathgod:

“Well spoken for one who fell out of a tree. Did the dogs chase you?”

He asked dryly. The satire of his tongue quite the lethal weapon. Anubis muttered a few words to the grey Lycan, the she-wolf running ahead to alert the others of their new arrival.

“Ti’s not what I recall. Scream would not be the word either lest you wish to describe the odd sounds you made.”

A carriage stopped nearby. Horses stamping & pawing the ground impatiently. Anubis moved faster, opening the carriage to reveal a woman inside.

“& Who might this be? Twas it not a priority to notify of passengers?”

Anubis rolled his eyes.

“He is the Noble come to live here. You do remember the purpose of him coming here.”

“Do not speak of it here Anubis, as for you Nobleman, state your name whilst you enter the transport. Be swift. Night shall fall soon ”

Anubis? Anubis? Oh great, so it was werewolves meets the mummy. If some bastard calling himself Imhotep burst onto the scene, Desmond would just eat the damn artifact whole and pray it choked him to death. And still--nobles, he couldn’t wrap his mind around that. He’d shared a startling resemblance to Altair, but none of his other notable ancestors.

But...on that thought, if they wanted to play Game of Thrones meets Universal’s monsters, he could do that. Or die trying.

He made haste, trying no do as told and enter the carriage swiftly, but at the same time, not jostle the whole thing. Not entirely ready to resume anything about the woman, rather than taking the spot next to her, he sat across from her. “Desmond, House Miles. From the Levantine Brotherhood.” If he was going to make up something on the spot, it might as well be something he knew about. 

“Had a bit of a mishap getting here. Hope you forgive my trespass.”

Couldn’t do much else but wait to see if they gave him any more information to work with.

[desmond-died]

mentoreofthecreed:

Ezio clearly did not look impressed, let alone surprised that the man stood here in the Assassin hideout with barely a word of Italian to say. Instead he spoke a language Ezio had only heard in passing but could not understand - English diplomats sounded vaguely familiar if he recalled correctly. Or were they germanic?

Regardless, he eyed the man who looked so stark familiar and altered his phrase as he spoke slower.

“How are you here? You…appeared from nowhere. Explain.”

How the man had even found his way through Roma in the first place was another mystery.

It couldn’t be a trick of the animus. Spare for his time locked in with Clay, he’d never been himself while plugged into one, always an ancestor instead. To stand--well, the standing part took a moment as he righted himself, still off-balance--in front of the ancient mentor...

Yeah, he really was screwed, wasn’t he? This apple in his possession wasn’t for anything offensive, not like the way Desmond had wielded one against Vidic and his cronies. It had really sent him back, hadn’t it? If true, the consequences could be...well, if he hadn’t created some strange off-shoot universe, he could potentially erase himself from history.

Nice. Try not to fuck up, Desmond and yanno, change anything important.

He caught a little more from Ezio this time, but not quite enough to discern the whole thing. He’d still have to explain himself somehow. So he went the most basic route:

“Desmond Miles,” Point toward himself, “Assassino. Uh...” When had America been discovered? How old was Ezio? They overlapped enough for it to work, right? And where the hell was Shaun’s encyclopedic knowledge of everything when he needed a fact checker, anyway? “Americano assassino.”

Real smooth.

[desmond-died]

bestxmployee:

“Who’s going to say no to Disney anyway? It’s only natural that if you wanna go and I wanna go that we’re gonna go together,” she shrugged in response, in her mind it was only logical conclusion, besides an adult on their own going to Disney was just plain embarrassing, it was just so hard for anyone to take you seriously when you were wearing Minnie Mouse ears, had a balloon in your hand and had spent a majority of the day with a selfie stick. Not that she was talking from experience anyway. “I think organising a trip to Disney would definitely make us seem popular with the Californians, I say this they might just think we’re children.” Not that they’d be wrong given their earlier outbursts on the plan, to be fair.

As she hadn’t quite been in a steady position, the shuddering of the cabin had almost made her slide out of her seat. “Fu–” Wait. No swearing, children were on board.

“Mmhm…” Helen rummaged in the pocket in front of her to grab a plastic bag, before gently flinging it his way. “Just do me a favour and don’t look my way if you feel you’re going to throw up.”

Groaning, Desmond accepted the bag and bent forward in his seat as much as the cramped space would allow. The movement of the place itself wasn’t enough to make him ill but coupled with the anxiety that if things went awry, there’d be no saving any of them--that’s what really turned his stomach.

“Okay,” he croaked, swallowing down hard. “Let’s make a deal. If I keep breakfast down, you own me a Mickey ice cream bar.” The plane shuddered again and he tasted regret. “--if I lose it all over our shoes, I owe you at least four of them.” He’d managed to climb that entire sky scraper and keep it together. Why couldn’t life be as kind here?

[desmond-died]

Wow. Lost nine followers since I came back. Are people just deleting their blogs or...?

[rp-starters-ask-box-fillers]

Honestly rate my writing in scale 1-10

Bonus if you will say at least one perk and flaw.

[desmond-died]

Night five at work. This is killing me. And apparently I've got two more weeks of the same after this. Free meeeeee.

[desmond-died]

Happy holidays! Abstergo wants your money AND you DNA!

[mentoreofthecreed-deactivated20]

@desmond-died plotted a starter!

“Desmond…” The name faltered on his tongue with familiarity despite its foreign nature. How could he forget the name of the hidden shadow within that Vault, the one that Minerva seemed so interested in.

Ezio had no doubt that it was him, it was his gut instinct.

“So it was you at the Vault, wasn’t it?”

[desmond-died]

There had been blinding light and that same infernal white noise buzzing in his ears as every time he’d wielded one of the apples. He’d shuddered, having fallen to his knees, when it all began to slowly ebb away, 

He’d expected to find his senses alongside the barrels of guns pointed at his head. To instead hear the voice of a man long-dead...for a moment, Desmond Had to stop and reconsider.

Had they captured him? Was his back inside the animus? When the brightness faded and his vision started to focus a bit better, he realized the Italian he’d heard, Ezio Auditore’s voice without a doubt, had not come from himself.

It came from the man in front of him.

Well...that changed things substantially.

Desmond glanced down to the Apple of Eden still clutched in his left hand--it wasn’t the same as Ezio’s, simply one of many. And apparently, this one had fragmented his mind worse than the state it had been in during his coma, or...

He really didn’t want to think about the alternative. It was impossible. Had to be.

Hopefully.

Swallowing down against the lump in his throat, he jammed the apple into his hoodie, though likely it hadn’t gone unnoticed. He’d rather deal with that later, rather than sooner. The Italian though, he’d deal with that--the words rather Aside from Desmond’s name, the rest had gone by in a blur.

“Could you repeat that or--” He swore under his breath, trying to wrack his brain for any pieces he knew. If a lifetime of the man’s techniques had bled into him, why couldn’t the language have? Though maybe it had and Desmond simply hadn’t practiced. Either way, for the time being, he was up shit creek.

“Um, shit--” This was utterly laughable. “P-per favore...” He’d heard that enough. Sometimes the animus hadn’t even bothered translating it to English. “-Repeat? Ah, wait a second...” Think harder, idiot. “Repe--ripe..tere?

[the-unreadable-jimanjikles]

Inbox me which Eeveelution you think I'd be!

Originally posted by disnoyland

[elvenking]

       December twenty-third, twenty-twelve. Sample Recovery Unit Team-Lead Fisher Case reporting on Subject Seventeen, Desmond Miles. The Subject was deceased and unattended. Time of death was placed around zero-hundred hours and seven minutes, with conditions favorable for DNA sample recovery. We had some initial concerns about interference in the vault but given the skill and talent of this team, we were able capture useful data. I personally retrieved the subject’s backpack, and extracted a number of objects of interest, to undergo detailed analysis. The subject displayed burns to the right hand, severe enough to fuse the bones, indicating some kind of spontaneous, intense burn trauma. Honestly, we have never seen anything like it before. Head, neck and torso remained in good condition. I hand-selected recovery agents to retrieve fluid samples - blood and saliva. We then commenced material extraction, and were able to preserve several exemplary samples. Data analysis and sequencing is already under  way, and I’m told, proceeding with exceptional ease. Thanks to the cloud database and the work of Abstergo Sample Recovery Unit 3, the legacy of Subject Seventeen will continue uninhibited as Sample Seventeen.

[desmond-died]

I keep seeing blogs talk about passwords and secret phrases needed when interacting (I haven’t seen any asking for them, only ones confirming they wouldn’t be using them). What’s all that on about? I’ve been out of the tumblr rp loop for a year+. so I really have no idea what they’re referencing.

[desmond-died]

Amended Intro for Historical Players

[desmond-died]

egyptiandeathgod:

Anubis frowned in confusion. Perhaps this stranger is lost? He tilted his head, quickly in the man’s space & sniffing him all over.

“Your scent & visage are familiar….”

The grey Lycan still in the window whines.

“Pardon our hostility sir! Anubis do you not see he is our new Noble?”

Anubis blinked, scrutinizing the human cowering before him. He wears strange clothes, no doubt from a city or some exorbitant new fashion trend among the Noble class.

“You should have stated your status earlier. Even a buffoon would know to do so. Come, no doubt your blundering about has caused quite the ruckus amongst my guard.”

The Lycan squeezed under the opening, waiting expectantly for Desmond.

“Make haste Nobleman. Ti’s far worse creatures than I that would gladly devour your innards.”

Cowering was a strong word. Terrified, yeah. But at least he hadn’t collapsed on himself to cry. But noble? That came as an even more outrageous claim. Desmond hadn’t any nobility in his line since House Auditore...as far as he knew. Maybe there was something else on his mother’s side? 

Either way, the title placed upon him begged more questions: perhaps not only should he be worrying about where he’d wound up, but when. Werewolves and all that had existed in cultures all over the world. If Adam and Eve had been real, who was to say things like these hadn’t existed at one point too?

The concept came as a little dizzying. 

But understanding his disadvantages, he chose to comply, following when told. “Well, when you can’t be sure of who your actual enemies are, it pays to have a little caution.” His thoughts drifted back to Lucy and her supposed betrayal. His chest ached, but he pushed them aside. “Anyway,” With the extra warning, he made sure to keep a little closer than he was really comfortable with. Just in case. “You started screaming first.”

[setaflow]

The real tragedy of the Assassin’s Creed movie is that it’s coming out on the anniversary of Desmond’s death.

[ziegfeldjollie]

Ubisoft: quick how do we honor Desmond’s sacrifice and heroism? Some developer: [snorts some coke] I got it

[desmond-died]

RUDE.

[sandcvstles]

hurt meme.

“ i got you. it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

“i feel like everyone’s miles away from me.”

“my mind is a dark place. you don’t want to be there.”

“i know this hurts, but you have to stay awake.”

“don’t close your eyes, please don’t close your eyes!”

“i just want to be numb, i don’t want to feel anything.”

“please don’t do this, don’t act like you care.”

“you don’t care, nobody cares, just leave.”

“you’re my friend, of course i fucking care.”

“i can’t give up on you, so please don’t give up on yourself.”

“i love you so much, i forgot what hating myself felt like.”

“i fucked up, why do you not care?”

“i can’t walk, just go on without me.”

“you have broken ribs, take it easy.”

“i have no idea how to do cpr.”

“whose blood is that?”

“apply pressure to the wound, don’t let go.”

“don’t you dare fucking let go!” 

“what the hell happened to you?” 

“are they dead? did you kill them?” 

“do you know what you’ve done?” 

“you’re either with me or against me.” 

“who the hell did this to you?” 

“are you alright? you hit your head pretty hard…” 

“i can’t see!! what’s happening to me?” 

“when was the last time you ate?” 

“what do you mean you’re fine? you are not fine!” 

 “i’m fine, it’s just a flesh wound, i’ll be okay.” 

“for how long? how long were you bottling this up?“ 

“there’s so much blood, you won’t last.” 

“are you… throwing up in there?” 

“why aren’t you eating?” 

“just breathe… you’re okay, i promise, just breathe.” 

“i can’t breathe, i can’t –” 

“i woke up, & you were gone.” 

“just tell me something, was it really worth it?” 

“it’s okay to hurt & breakdown. you don’t have to be strong all the time.”