#knightassassin

[larosafatale]

➳♥

send ‘➳♥’ and i’ll generate a number 1-34 for where my muse will kiss yours

6. Cheek

[grandmaster-altair-ibn-la-ahad]

[Closed]

Parking his bike in it’s parking spot, he pulled his helmet off and set it down on the seat before rushing up the steps of the underground parking garage and ignored all the greetings from anyone around, The Grandmaster had returned from a mission but now he was on another mission, he would wash his bike when he was free. He took the steps two at a time as he went straight towards the library and as he stepped inside the sunlit room he spotted the person he was looking for and threw his arms around her, “Honey, I’m home!” he joked as he grinned. 

[daisayf]

Tell me

Put a “Tell me” in my ask and my character will answer…

If you snuck into my room I would:

[x] Go back to sleep[] Kick you out[x] Cuddle with you [x] Be like “How in the world?”[] Let you sleep on the floor[] Become angry

If you kissed me (or hugged, depending upon character/gender) I would:

[x] Kiss or hug you back[] Smile and laugh[x] Stiffen, and feel uncomfortable[] Push you away[x] Be shocked[] Strike you

If you asked me to go out with you for a day I would say:

[] No[x] Yes[] Most certainly not.[] Without hesitation.

You are:

[] Cute[] Adorable[] Attractive[x] Beautiful[] Okay[] Ugly[] Am not going to grace this with an answer

[daisayf]

knightassassin replied to your post “He's right outside my goddamn door.”

"And you are his best friend, help me"

“I rather not have to explain to my nephews why I knocked out their father.  You have my moral support however.” 

[grandmaster-altair-ibn-la-ahad]

knightassassin said: “-BUT I NEVER SEEN YOU WITH A WAXED BUTT BEFORE!”

“Waxed butt?! what are you speaking woman!” 

[ms-maryread]

knightassassin liked for a drabble. Please listen to this song while reading.

She was waiting for him; she had been waiting an hour and a half in a dusty lane, with a row of big trees on one side and some aged building sites on the other, and far away to the southwest the twinkling yellow light of a lonely home. It was not quite like a country lane, for it had pavement and a lamp post, but it was not a bad place for a meeting all the same; and farther up, toward the cemetery, it was really quite rural—almost pretty, especially in twilight. But twilight had long deepened into night, and still she waited.

Curiosity consumed her, and she was engaged to the meeting she felt could lead to prospects, though with the complete disapproval of every reasonable friend who had been consulted of the mysterious man. They judged her, thought ill of everything she had to say. And this half-secret meeting was tonight to take the place of their grudgingly allowed banter; a match so deeply ineligible as hers with him.

So she waited for him, and the chill of an usual severe Spring evening entered her bones.

The policemen passed her with only a surly response to her 'goodnight.' The bicyclists went by her like gray ghosts with foghorns; and it was nearly ten o'clock, and he had not come. So she shrugged her slim shoulders and turned towards her way home. However when she spun, a new road appeared replacing the old one. This road led her by the lonely brick house with a broad roof—undesirable, detached from society—and she walked slowly to it. Maybe he is there her thoughts tried to convince, that he might come out. But he is not. There was no sign of movement about the house, no sign of life, only a single candle in the window.

Then she noticed that the front door was open—wide open—and the street lamp shone a little way into the dark entrance. There was something about all this that did not please her—that scared her a little, indeed. The house had a gloomy and deserted air. It was obviously impossible that is harbored a soul.

She walked up the path of glazed tile, and listened.

No sign of life. She passed into the hall. There was no light anywhere. Where was everybody, and why was the front door open?There was no one in the drawing room, the dining room and the study were equally blank. But the unpleasant sense that she is, perhaps, not the first casual visitor to walk through that open door impelled her to look through the house before she went away and close it after her. So she went upstairs, and at the door of the first bedroom she came to she struck a match, as she had done in the sitting room. Even as she did so, she felt that she was not alone. And she was prepared to see something; but for what she saw she was not prepared. For what she saw lay on the bed in odd attire. It was her caller, and his throat was cut from ear to ear. She doesn't know what happened then, nor how she got downstairs to the door, but she somehow managed.

The knob would not turn.

For the first time in her life, she felt the blood in her veins cool. And upon turning to find another exit did she see his dark eyes reflect the look of horror on her face. She tried to scream. She had seen him dead with the ugliest of cuts, but there was nothing anymore. Quickly his hand—cold, rough, and hard—covered her mouth pinning her against the door nearly shaking the lonesome candle down. “Do not fight me, Maria” his voice low “Or you'll end up like the others.”

But she could not even shake her auburn locks free.

How dumb was she? Why could she not listen to the words her friends spoke and take heed? How did someone so handsome turn to looking like death?

Shaking herself partially free (her mouth to be exact), she asked “Why, James?” nearly screeching the word out of fear.

“You should have known the price of evil and it hurts to know that you belong here, but there is no one to call, and everybody to fear, your tragic fate is looking so clear...”

Suddenly, a wind blew and the only light that burned inside, now rose in smoke turning to complete darkness.

Later it was found that on the night of that particular evening a young lady, one with brown hair and slim figure, had been found with her throat cut from ear to ear, on the bed in the long back bedroom facing the stair of the undesirable detached home.

[daisayf]

~|o|~

Send ~|o|~ to share a bath with my muse.

Malik rested his head against the rim of the tub glancing up upon the ceiling before hearing a splash and weight against him. “Let me guess Altaïr refused?” He asked gaze still upon the ceiling. 

[daisayf]

Maria 

“What brings you to Jerusalem Maria?  I thought you would have been resting within the walls of Masyaf considering your state of condition. No doubt Altaïr  will be tearing half of Masyaf searching for you.”