❝ I DO NOT CARE for the subject at this time. ❞ he hadn’t the most amiable relationship with his own father--- it makes him fear for his own future, in that respect, ❝ i was raised by my mother, and that is enough. ❞

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@okwahowl
❝ I DO NOT CARE for the subject at this time. ❞ he hadn’t the most amiable relationship with his own father--- it makes him fear for his own future, in that respect, ❝ i was raised by my mother, and that is enough. ❞
connor kenway assassin’s creed
▹ born ratonhnhaké:ton; more commonly known by the name “ connor ”, thanks to his mentor, achilles davenport. ▹ the son of a british templar and native american woman. ▹ lost his mother when he was four & became an assassin when he was 14 for revenge. ▹ has tremendous skill in hand-to-hand combat, hunting and tracking, free-running, climbing, and a wide array of weaponry, most notably the tomahawk. ▹ captains a ship called the aquila. ▹ has no problem calling people out on their shit. ▹ fights for equality and freedom. racists, it is On Sight. ▹ cares a whole lot. ▹ black and white morality and a bit naive, but due to recent events and his current canon point, this has begun to falter. ▹ friend to the animals. ▹ don’t touch him unless you wanna lose a hand.
sorry to do this during an inbox run, but i'd love to reapply for connor kenway/ratonhnhaké:ton from assassin's creed! app is under /a or link three
Welcome back to scenic Isola Radiale, Connor!
You will be housed in TOWNHOUSE 205.
You will retain everything you were given in your previous stay.
– mod pleiades.
byabhainn.
✛ For a moment, she’s a bit grateful to be walking ahead of the other. At the very least, it gives the brunette the time she needs to try and regain her composure and try to will away the current burning sensation on her cheeks. While she is, above all else, embarrassed… She is also rather touched that Connor cares enough to catch her when she stumbles because of her own faults.
❝ … Hehe… Hahaha! ❞ she laughs heartily at his sincere comment, slowing down to once more walk by his side. As she laughs, a hand lightly covers her mouth as she does so, her eyes closing for a moment.
❝ Aren’t you a charmer? ❞ her laughter becoming softer, she soon chuckles out her reply as her verdant hues look over at him now.
❝ I’m curious, though… Do you have fast reflexes from sports? Fighting? …. Something else, maybe? ❞
CONNOR FALTERED, before inclining his head to further shadow his gaze beneath the peak of his hood, ❝ ... my apologies. i... did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. ❞
he had misplaced his words, he sees that now, and yet... she was laughing. had he said something amusing? he could not fathom her reasons for doing so, but the tension laying siege to his features and posture seemed to melt away and he felt... at ease. perhaps she did not take it to heart as he had previously assumed--- then he was relieved.
when the conversation had found him once again however, the assassin cast aside his gaze.
❝ years of training in combat and weaponry. ❞ he replied bluntly, although without further elaboration. the less she knew of him, the better, ❝ i do not participate in any sports. ❞
starter call. i’ve been radio silent for far too long so i’d like to bump up the activity here on connor! capping this one at two for now--- i’ll be keeping these short for now!
byabhainn.
✛ Fully expecting to fall flat on her bottom, Desdemona’s eyes widen as her hand is grabbed quite suddenly. Before she has time to object or even think about it, the brunette is pulled from falling backwards, soon being thrust upon her own two feet once more. Being pressed against the other for a moment, the half-faerie can’t help but blink in surprise once more, an embarrassed flush of pink appearing upon her cheeks as the two of them regain some distance between their frames.
❝ … Y-Yes! Yes, I’m fine, ❞ she finally says sheepishly, tucking some hair behind her ears.
❝ I’m used to falling a lot and getting bruises, so I wouldn’t have minded you letting me fall, but… Well, thank you. You’re pretty quick on your reflexes, huh? ❞ she now comments, laughing bashfully as her viridian hues look elsewhere for a moment, Desdemona soon turning around to continue walking on.
❝ i... suppose i have had... practice. ❞ he barely managed in answer, falling silent as she resumed her tread forward. his eyes lingered on her back for a moment, before he followed, albeit at a stride’s distance.
he thought little of the situation--- it would appear she were simply... inattentive at times, and she seemed to imply it happens often. despite his concerns, he did not venture his assumptions aloud, for it was not his place to do so. however, when connor spoke again, it was without forethought, yet sincere throughout.
❝ ... if that is the case, then you need not worry when i am around. i will catch you should you fall. ❞ perhaps that was... an odd thing to say, but he had not considered it until after the deed.
❝ i do not recall ever attending a... festival. ❞ perhaps it would be a much needed reprieve.
byabhainn.
✛ Though she’s unsure if her inquiries will be answered, the young woman finds herself asking them anyway. Partly out of filling the silence within the air and partly due to her own growing curiosity about the other. So, naturally, when Connor answers the half-faerie at last, she can’t help but smile once more.
❝ Haha, really? You know, I can see that, ❞ given his personality, or what Desdemona has seen of it thus far, it seems to be on par for the course.
❝ But… I find myself doing that, too. It reminds me of a simpler time– ❞ and yet before she can finish her sentence, the verdant hues of the woman grow wide as she finds herself tripping. Given how she had been walking backwards, she can’t be terribly surprised… Yet even so, she realizes that a bruise will be sure to come from this.
❛ a simpler time ❜---?
the words waited at the tip of his tongue, where thereafter they were stalled, as he noted a shudder in her stance, before her footing gave way beneath her. without thinking, he lunged forward, reaching out to take her hand--- and reel her back in quickly against him. grasping her shoulders to steady her, connor’s eyes again found hers, as he was beset by a silence he could not name. it lingered a moment, before he lowered a hand, the other remaining for good measure, and took a step back.
❝ ... are you alright? ❞ he inquired gently, his touch at her shoulder waning, before finally falling away, ❝ ... you should tread more carefully. perhaps walking backwards is unwise. ❞
byabhainn.
✛ She has quickly noticed that about him; that he so readily crawls back into his quiet little shell, and so quickly, too. While curious, Desdemona decides that it’s not her place to really prod about the matter. After all, he accepted her request, didn’t he? That already tells the brunette a lot more about him than any words could.
❝ So– ❞ she turns around now, proceeding to walk backwards in order to look at the other. A little dangerous, maybe, but the lack of current obstacles in the street certainly helps with the woman’s confidence.
❝ How have you been settling in? Make any new friends or find any new places you like? ❞
he did not understand her growing concern with his affairs--- or did she perhaps feel obligated to shoulder the conversation where he did not? he found he had never taken so easily to small talk, preferring instead to get to the heart of the matter, but this was not one of those times where it was necessary. connor was not well-versed in friendly banter, but he would venture an attempt nonetheless, perking up once more to meet with her gaze as he followed her at a sustained distance.
❝ ... as well as can be, i suppose. ❞ he found it difficult to summon the words, ❝ i prefer the quieter places, far from the city. ❞
the ones that remind me of home.
❝ and what of you? ❞ he was eager to veer the conversation away from himself.
things appeared to have become... chaotic, as of late. and so, he had taken to the trees, far from the thick of civilisation, where high up in its branches, he watched the horizon in solitude.
⤜ proxy !! *:・゚✧ ╱ sheer chaos its all of them
perched upon the cold metal & grey cement of the towering structures of this unknown city ( trapped within the confines of this place ) was nothing but boiling annoyance. anger a bright molten gold staring out into the expanse of civilization before him; altaïr was no stranger to the foreign but combined with al mualim’s voice trailing in his mind… the assassin could not find it in himself to be awed by the variation ( demoted like some unnecessary street urchin. a novice, a disgrace. ). there was something ugly in the twisting confines of his mind, desperation making way for vitriol.
he couldn’t help but think this a punishment — that which matched the apple’s powers, no doubt. ( leftover confusion over his “death” but a lingering sensation ). vision flickering in the low light of the day at the noise to the side, hood hiding his face ( tilted, frown set heavy upon scarred lips ) from the intruder. voice a bitter spark within the quiet, a dry & lofty thing ❝ who are you. ❞
@okwahowl ➻ soughtluck ➻ xprofeta ➻ rooksassassin
was he supposed to be intimidated? was the chill wrought by a stranger’s tone meant to caution him away so that they might never come into conflict? ratonhnhaké:ton felt little for the other’s steeled words but a contempt befitting a guarded wolf, seeking not conversation but confrontation. he would not find it here, with another in his midst clearly lamenting his own troubles, but the manner of which he was addressed however furrowed his brow. maintaining his distance, the boy merely jerked his chin toward the solitary man at the building’s edge, answering in kind.
❝ ---and why does it matter to you? ❞ he wanted only to get his bearings, but it would seem another had the same idea, and they too disdained unwanted company, nor had a taste for it in general. the words upon his tongue were needlessly sharpened, defensive, but he felt it necessary in this place, at least for now. he trusted few, fewer still in his new surroundings.
as he scrutinised the other, the city murmured below all the while--- this was a far cry from the likes of boston.
@soughtluck ➵ xprofeta ➵ rooksassassin ➵ edeneyed
byabhainn.
✛ ❝ Imposing on what? Me walking aimlessly by myself? ❞ she laughs again. It’s… A little endearing to see someone so intimidating suddenly become a little bashful.
❝ If you were, I wouldn’t have invited you. So! ❞ and now she makes a motion with her hand, beckoning him to follow.
❝ Let’s go! ❞
to her argument, he said nothing. that was not what he had meant, but she appeared unbothered by his presence. they were strangers still, merely acquainted, and yet, she extended him an... unusual kindness. most would not do so in these circumstances, as he had come to learn.
and so, he followed without a further word upon the matter, silenced her hers, yet maintaining a small distance to spare her comfort.
make your muse’s heart.
nonverbal starters prompts featuring nonverbal scenarios.
guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.
shelter protect them.
shove push them.
loop drape an arm around their shoulders.
touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand.
kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.
palm smack them upside the head.
bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.
aid help them with a task.
note pass a note to them.
cry wipe away their tears.
wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.
bandage patch them up when they get hurt.
heal take care of them when they get sick.
book silently read a story with them.
carry pick them up.
scrap punch them.
cherry find blood on them.
sit help them sit down.
medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.
steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up.
beat dance with them.
stare stare them down.
off track get lost with them.
no shaking their head in disagreement.
yes nodding their head in agreement.
rush tackle them to the ground.
open hold the door open for them.
@okwahowl
for all the weight he carries his steps are as quiet as an eagles wings, guiding him over gaps between the buildings with incredible speed. the many crowds below him afforded secrecy yet slowed his movement and blocked his sight of the city before him. atop he was free to move how he pleased, uninhibited by the tightly packed crowds below him. he had been in this city only days and has since met a myriad of characters, each unique in their own way and all forced here by some mysterious hand.
this city is an enigma, its purpose obscured it was clear answers would not come easy
from above he scanned below, to the many buildings that seemed to stretch on endlessly and the crowded streets directly below (far more crowded than both venice and rome together). it was not long before eagle eyes lock onto a sight so familiar, clothing unmistakable; that bright blue hue showing him all he needed. it did not take long for him to blend back into the crowd, for even in his older age he was still just as fit an agile. he would expertly cut through the crowd, eyes locked like an eagle stalking its prey. a hand would soon reach out, grasping the others shoulder and offering only a whisper.
‘ where other men blindly follow the truth, remember, nothing is true. ’
it is the creed that binds us together a common cause which guides us
like a blade he carved his path through the crowds, smoothly and quietly, where even amidst their murmurs--- their whispers and cursory glances--- he had found a certain kind of silence. he heard none of it, for that was what he chose, eyes forward and intently upon the path ahead, as it had always been. perhaps it were better to never look back, he told himself, and yet he could not help but remain anchored to the past, to every wrong thrust upon him and his people, every slight, no matter how small--- he carried those with him everywhere he would go. maybe achilles was right.
... maybe he was right from the very beginning.
the blood of friend and foe alike stained his hands; a cruel reminder of the road he had set upon, of the world he sought to piece back together with only his conviction and a blade. uncertainty had since crept into the back of his mind, poisoning every thought with a cold, hard truth--- sometimes it would sound like the old man, other times his father, and how he hated it. had everything he believed in and hoped for been for naught...?
it was then his tread had faltered, harrowed by the hand now gripping his shoulder. he loathed the touch instantaneously, readying to parry it with an arm and warn the stranger against such a bold action in future. however, what was to follow stayed his hand, and for the first time in many years since his village burned, connor felt like he was no longer alone.
a fool’s hope, to be sure, but---
he raised his chin slightly, but did not move otherwise, nor even cast a glance beyond his shoulder. instead, he merely spoke the words---
❝ ---where other men are limited by morality or law, remember, everything is permitted. ❞ they rolled off his tongue as if he had been taught from birth.
Keep reading
byabhainn.
✛ ❝ Oh, of course not, ❞ she laughs lightly.
❝ But it’s nice to take your mind off of it for a while. Say, why don’t you join me? Company helps with these sorts of things; forgetting things for a little bit, I mean. ❞
❝ ... i do not wish to impose. ❞