#aubriellelostassassin

[youopposetyranny-blog]

+ kinvesandtoxins

+ true-independence

+ aubriellelostassassin

Haytham Kenway.

[wolven-kenway-blog]

46

Still...bereft of a name. 

I do not know whether to count you among my friends, or amongst the belligerents who stand against me. I do not yet know enough about you - you might well be an assassin, though this does not mean I am able to trust you without reserve. I have learned this lesson and paid for the mistakes I have made with blood. What I do know, if that you are strong. Stronger than you afford yourself credit for. It is not overtly difficult to know that you are an Assassin of no small measure of skill; it is where your intent lies that worries me.

[wolven-kenway-blog]

"I see that you are not bleeding this time. I suppose you are doing well then?"

"Better than when last we met, that is true. The wound is healing well and troubles me not. I thank you for your aid, it was most appreciated."

[wolven-kenway-blog]

She nodded and glanced to the bloodied patch he'd been covering. "To see the full extent of the injury you realise that you will have to remove your shirt? Unless you wish me to assess it like it is, in which, I could say from the blood it may be a minor injury at best, unless they did more than mere stabbing.." She glanced to him again. "The wound could be far more serious than I assume it to be."

He looked to her, caught for a moment between expressions before relenting the logic of her request. Slowly, with movements tempered by pain and uncertainty he began to acquiesce. "The knife...she twisted it. I do not know how far, only that she took great joy in doing so..."

[wolven-kenway-blog]

"You were decieved? Something else I had not expected. You do not know if it is serious?" She heaved a light sigh a took a step closer "Will you allow me to see it? Or is that not something that you would be comfortable with?"

Gritting his teeth, he drew his hand away to allow her access. "It was a knife, yet small. I have not looked upon the wound as of yet. If you would do so for me, I would consider it a kindness."

[wolven-kenway-blog]

"Whats this? You are injured? Hm, So someone was able to catch you off guard? I had not seen something like that coming. Is it serious?" Aubrielle tilted her side in question.

He threw her a terse glance from amidst his suffering. "Yes. It was...I was deceived. I thought..." He grunted, shaking his head. "It does not matter. I do not know."

[wolven-kenway-blog]

" Happy New year my friend. I hope that you are able to reach all of your goals in the coming year."

"My goal is unattainable. Nothing short of a cataclysm will allow it to me, but even so...I thank you. It is my hope that yours however are within reach and granted to you."

[wolven-kenway-blog]

O Puck || Drabble for aubriellelostassassin

O Puck: I will write about my character pranking yours

He was beginning to grow accustomed to her intruding upon what he had once considered his domain. She strode through the freshly fallen snow, her shoulders thrown back and her head inclined. She walked as one would who held their pride before them, marked by grace and fluidity; yet still - prideful.

Connor could not keep the wicked grin from curving across his lips as he followed her, ghosting along the branches above her. He moved silently, certain of his footing before he had even found it, fingers curling about frosted bark as he trailed her. His impish mood seemed to have sprung from nowhere and nothing. He knew better than to partake in the childish games of fools and yet he could not keep from fisting his hand in the snow gathered at the base of the branch.

He had not forged a snowball in many, many years. He can scarcely recall when last he threw one, most likely it had been at Kanen, sometime before the fire; but the precise memory eluded him. Yet even with so many years between instances, the art had not left him.

He cupped his hands, compacting the snow between them, turning it to fashion the formless scoop into a tight orb. Gaze lingering upon the movements of the woman beneath him, he drew his arm back. He took his time, not wanting to throw poorly and give himself away. Breath shallow, his aim true; he flung the snowball with all his might at the retreating back of his fellow Assassin. He did not wait to see if he struck her quite where he intended to, instead he scrambled off the branch and back around the trunk so that it stood between him and her.

He heard her shout of protest, a string of quick fire curses filling the frigid air before there was silence. Pressing his forehead to the cold bark, he dug his fingers into the trunk of the tree, shifting his weight so that he might lean to the right and ascertain her position. He peered over the edge of the branch he had been perched upon not a moment ago, straining to catch sight of the undoubtedly livid Assassin standing upon the path.

"You think yourself funny?"

He started, tensing at the sharpness of her voice emanating from directly beneath him. Looking down, he met the blazing eyes of a rather agitated Assassin. What smile that had been set upon his lips fell almost instantly.

Perhaps, he was not quite the savvy trickster he thought himself to be after all...