The Night Loop
Feb. 12th, 2026 03:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond goes to the afterlife to cleanse at least some of the Filth.
Word Count: 3016
Rating: Teen
The actual process of getting there thankfully doesn’t involve a Piece of Eden or an artifact. It does involve sitting in front of a fire Old Joe’s started and breathing in the smoke, once they’ve gathered the right ingredients from nearby ghosts and wendigo and an herb. Rukh offers another feather without hesitation, like he knew the ingredients before Desmond had even glanced at Old Joe’s notebook, which honestly gives Desmond hope. If Rukh’s seen it done before, then there’s a chance of coming back, even if Old Joe himself makes it clear that he only knows what it’s supposed to do, not how it’s supposed to work.
And Nate himself hadn’t seen it, either, but it’s apparently a kinda common one in Dragon circles, so he’s at least familiar with it, and he’d managed to talk the others into remaining as anchors. Desmond would have liked some company, but he’s not sure if Katherine’s going to unglue herself from his side anytime soon, and Rukh wants to keep an eye on him, and Bob might just get to come along if he behaves himself and doesn’t run off, so it’s not like he’s going to be totally on his own here. Mainly from the way Nate was talking, it sounds like, well. Not the Bleeding Effect, though you probably could describe it that way if you wanted. Anchors are good to find your way back from the ‘land of the ancestors’. Basically, having something to come back for, and aware people serve as pretty effective anchors. Lydia had argued about the amulets serving the purpose well enough, but Nate hadn’t been completely confident in that idea. Something about the inanimate being less strong. Given the way he’s talking about it, serving as an anchor takes conscious effort, so Shaun being unaware of the whole thing means it doesn’t work as well, and it’s not like Desmond can just call him to warn him. As much as he’d like to do that.
As traveling to the past goes, the Animus was cleaner and not as smelly. Generally. If it’s bad for him, it’s even worse for a dog’s nose, but while she sneezes at it, Katherine isn’t actually put off enough to back off at all. Desmond would say that this way messes with the mind less, but as he breathes in again he suddenly feels a little bit dizzy, and the world suddenly goes technicolor. He’d say almost like in Eagle Vision, but this isn’t—
Wait.
No, it’s...kind of right, actually—Old Joe is blue, and so are the rest of his friends (he’s including Katherine in there, too). Over at the lodge, there’s two gold figures, but, again, there’s no way he’s pulling off an assassination under these circumstances. He really could have used more smoke bombs or—nah, that wouldn’t even work, not when they saw him just walk in. That would just be sloppy. As bad as the wannabe killer that came after him, and while he’s made a few amateurish mistakes that show he’s out of practice lately, he’s not that bad. And it’s not like they’re a high priority, either, they just...they bug him. Given that other people are in there, too, they’re probably planning on going to retrieve the body soon.
He’s sitting, but he still sways a little like he’s about to fall, because it’s everywhere and there are swirling patterns on the air that he has absolutely no frame of reference for. He’s definitely had patrons who were high babbling about seeing the universe (and getting upset when he wouldn’t give them a drink to continue to screw themselves over when he didn’t particularly want to see what would happen; he mixed drinks, not drinks and drugs) and he’d always dismissed that, but...maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe it did actually help unlock this stuff. The legacy of the Isu lurking in their DNA. It hurts his eyes, but he’s pretty used to working through the pain at this point.
It’s not what being an Isu is like. The thoughts scatter away when he tries to concentrate on them, but he’s pretty sure whatever happened briefly in the Fog was, well, if not entirely there, closer than he’ll probably ever get. Thankfully. But it’s closer than humans are meant to come, period, and human brains probably aren’t exactly designed to understand that stream of information coming at them. Fortunately, he knows how to deal with this kind of thing, too—just concentrate on what you want and tune the rest of it out.
“I do know it’s not instant, but if you need more direction…” Old Joe starts.
Desmond shakes his head, feeling a little distant and floaty. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Like, maybe starting with that gold thread twisting over itself going from the fire off away from the trailer park. Back the way they came, basically, though if he’s judging that angle right, it’d come out in front of the casino. He’s pretty sure that’s not where it’s going though.
He waits for a moment to see if this whole thing actually results in astral projection, or whatever, but given that he doesn’t suddenly pop out of his body, he’s guessing not, so he buries his fingers in Katherine’s fur and stands, still feeling a little unsteady on his feet. Katherine stands with him, Rukh hopping to his shoulder like he belongs there, and it’s imperfect but he definitely feels a little more present now. His eyes don’t help, seeing the colors dance and fold in on themselves, but if he concentrates on the feeling of ground under him, Katherine and Rukh and Bob nudging his shoes, the distant sound of seagulls and other birds, a slight breeze that he can hear and feel, it helps. He can’t smell anything over the smoke, but that’s fine. It’s probably better if he doesn’t try to breathe in too much more anyway. Given that this is supposed to get the Filth out of the dreams of the people on the island, he’s probably going to have to be marginally functional and able to fight.
Time to follow the thread. The rest don’t follow, but there’s something about markings and circles that Desmond hadn’t fully understood that means they have to stay there to keep it going. (Rukh had, apparently; he’d been paying close attention, head tilted with curiosity, not moving an inch.)
It turns out that it goes to the actual cemetery. Inside the gate colors swirl, but unlike the Agartha portal it’s not an inviting gold. He takes a deep breath of actual air (well, and fog) and reaches out—
It works pretty much the same way as all the other portals he’s interacted with here. One moment he’s in one place, and the next he’s somewhere else, which sounds really stupid when you say it out loud, but. There’s no transition. No adjusting, no sense of something in between. The human brain might find the daily commute boring enough to tune out, but a complete lack of transition is jarring. Weirdly, all the funky technicolor is gone. It’s now mostly washed out, faded colors and greys, with a few exceptions, like an old photograph.
“You are not one of the Kanien'kehá:ka. Are you Wabanaki?” a voice asks him.
He glances over, and finds a woman staring at him curiously. It’s not Kaniehtí:io, but between the deep blue and the sudden ease he feels he’s pretty sure she’s one of his ancestors. Though it maybe makes some sense that he’d run into an ancestor here. Given that Old Joe himself had called it the ‘land of the ancestors’. And if the time frame was going to be even vaguely accurate it wouldn’t be Connor or the others, even if Desmond is really, really curious how differently it went for any of them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can kind of see what she sees, actually wearing something Connor might have worn. And Katherine at his feet looks kinda wolf-like. (She’s actually sort of more on his feet? Maybe she’s trying to urge him not to go anywhere, but that’s kind of a failed gesture at this point. They’ve already gone somewhere.) Bob’s image, kinda hilariously, is being replaced by a small, wild-looking cat, though Desmond supposes they do make some of the same noises and that all these people moving around the camp would probably panic at the sight of an ak’ab, even if he’s friendly. He can’t tell from here if Rukh appears different too, here; it seems like the first thing his raven did was to go scout around. Not that Desmond doesn’t get that urge. If there was anything really to climb, Desmond would do the same thing. Synchronization might not be a thing anymore, but that map-feeling was still a thing that happened in real life.
It’s just an illusion. He still feels his hoodie. But he’s actually kind of blending in.
“I’m...an ally,” he tells her. He nearly tells her, but how exactly are you supposed to walk up to someone and say ‘by the way, I’m your descendant’ anyway?
She looks him over, slightly more skeptical. “Did the Norsemen bring you with them? You do not dress like they do.”
“No, not them either; I just...the outcome here will matter a lot in the future.” Though even the fact they won, Desmond’s guessing, doesn’t prevent all the suffering that followed. Then again, Shaun or his own weird experiences with history could have told him that. There’s no such thing as a perfect victory, just doing the best you can in the moment and hoping you can adjust things later or someone else can step into your place to finish the fight.
Why he’s here, though...okay, yeah, it probably has something to do with the war Red and the ravens had mentioned, but he has absolutely no idea if he’s here just to see something important or if he’s supposed to change something.
She examines him more closely, eyes sharp, and then guesses, “...you are a friendly spirit.”
That had been his first instinct as to an explanation if he’d chosen to give one and not just be cryptic, so he can work with that. “Something like that. Mind filling me in?”
“It is rare to meet a friendly spirit.” She’s teasing him, he’s pretty sure. Which is kind of a first, but also he hasn’t actually had a (sort of) face-to-face conversation with one of his ancestors before now. Ezio might, assuming he wasn’t too busy interrogating Desmond to figure out everything he knows. “I am Tekakwitha.”
“It’s an honor. Desmond.” Which might matter if she knows his name, but if it’s anything like his own world it’s pretty unlikely she would, and his instincts there are right.
She nods, face slightly intense like she’s memorizing his name. As unfamiliar as his first encounter with Kanienʼkéha had been, the same has to be true for her in reverse. “It is good to meet you, Desmond.”
“So...the Kanien'kehá:ka and Wabanaki don’t always get along, right?” They’d worked together before, but Connor’s memories suggest that’s more of a rare thing than not.
She sighs. “No, but some matters are more important than the best hunting ground. The Wabanaki protect this sacred land from all who mean harm, but when invaders came they were too many, and their magic was strange. They needed allies, and we came to help them, and we were not alone. The Norsemen sensed the danger. They brought the power of their gods with them, a light that strengthened good and punished evil.”
Rukh flies in, looking agitated, and her face turns grave. “The enemy is coming, Desmond. See, there? Follow the Varangian!”
That, apparently, is the name for the Norseman with the sword. Desmond expects the Siren Song, but there’s none of that, just a steady, healing light blasting away the Filth trying to crawl over the ground and actually feeling pure and healing when it washes over Desmond and the others.
It becomes pretty clear that the ancestors just keep reliving this fight over and over. It’s not just that it’s a historical event that’s so important to them. It’s actually being used against them, and they don’t even realize, and Desmond can see both. The noble fight they keep having to try to prevent the ak’ab and Mayans (or maybe Aztecs, or something; the only description Desmond got is that they’re ‘invaders from the South seeking to unleash the darkness lying dormant under the hills’ and figures it’s not like the Wabanaki or anyone else had the time to ask them politely who they were) from reaching their goal. The Norsemen and Sasquatch fighting and dying alongside them. They do seem really grateful for Desmond’s help healing and don’t seem to notice that he’s fighting with a modern gun. Or for Rukh, diving in and doing serious damage with his beak, or for Bob proudly toppling enemies over. Katherine still isn’t too fond of the fighting, but she’ll bite a Mayan’s arm before the enemy can bring down an axe or a club with sharp blades embedded in it. (As much as Desmond still thinks the sledgehammer or probably a club would be too slow, he actually kind of wants to try one, but picking up a weapon in the chaos of battle particularly when the enemies vanish after being defeated is just asking to get ambushed.) He contents himself with experimenting a little with the chaos magic when he thinks it’s safe to do so. It’s not too flashy, but it’s effective, which is exactly what Desmond would want if he’s going to use magic at all—just the occasional white glow around his hands or the enemy.
But they get done with one fight and then Desmond’s allies will corrupt, turning into Filth-creatures and attacking. At first, Desmond thinks it’s because they’re catching an actual glimpse of Bob and mistaking him for an enemy, but then Desmond’s own shadow twists up out of the ground and tries to slit his throat with a shadowy blade dripping Filth, which kind of suggests that maybe it’s not just a simple misunderstanding after all. And then after that point he just doesn’t have a shadow, which is...frankly a little bizarre, but also, this isn’t the real world, so maybe he should’ve expected more oddities like this in the first place.
Tekakwitha doesn’t change, but her wide eyed, somewhat disbelieving look says that this might be the first time she’s noticed. Like waking up from a bad dream. She doesn’t waste time pretending it’s not happening, though, biting her lips in fear or worry but keeping fighting alongside him anyway. She’s pretty good with that tomahawk, using it to deflect another axe strike and then burying it in the enemy with a flick of the wrist before they can even react.
They think they’re still fighting to prevent the Filth from spreading, but their intentions have become so twisted that they don’t realize they’re attacking their own allies. Probably in the real world or in dreams attacking their own ancestors or the townspeople. Occasionally one of those Guardian Hounds will appear and run away, leaking Filth all over, corrupting more of the landscape and the people fighting and dying on it. Fortunately, even without Connor’s training, Desmond would find it pretty hard not to be able to follow that kind of trail. More than once it looks like Connor’s one of the ones that gets corrupted, but Desmond’s pretty sure Connor doesn’t get born for decades if not longer. This seems like it’s before colonial times. Desmond’s not sure if it’s just dragging his ancestors into it because he’s actually alive and that changes everything in here somehow, or if the Filth is trying to mess with him, but either way he’s entirely sure Ratonhnhaké:ton would rather die than be used like this, so it’s not like it slows Desmond down too much. He half expects to see Altaïr or Ezio to get thrown into the mix, but maybe they can’t be because they don’t fit in.
And then, once they’ve finished off even the giant flying boar-Filth thing, the ‘Varangian’ returns the sword back to his side, the light lessens, to the point Desmond can actually kind of see again, and—
“What is wrong, Desmond? We overcame their cruel magic, did we not?” Tekakwitha, still trying to make sense of what’s happening. Still not aware that this is a reenactment, not the real deal.
And that’s Loki in the party, right behind the guy. He’s disguised himself well, but at this point Desmond can see right through it and fucking knows that’s him. He’d actually been able to grab the sword before and hadn’t gone for it, why? If he’d been wanting the Filth to spread, it would’ve been easier to just stand aside and do nothing, let the Mayans and the ak’ab win and unleash the Filth. He senses Desmond coming, though, even if Desmond’s attempt at a teleport was in his opinion pretty good, and raises a hand, sending Desmond and his allies tumbling backward.
Desmond gets two flashes of visions. One involves the Norsemen returning home, only to get stuck in the Sargasso Sea, red seaweed reaching around the vessels like the arms of a giant sea creature, conspicuously missing Loki. He’d just sent the sword away for safekeeping in the sea, turns out. Ready to be discovered by a fisherman centuries later. The other is the path through the mine to the place he needs to go to stop the god. Then he’s tumbling back out of the cemetery gates, back out onto his ass, and Katherine licks his face as if trying to ask if he’s okay, or make sure he will be. Which, yeah, but he’s feeling Rukh’s frustrated croak and Bob’s anxious dance. He really has to figure out how to get his blade into Loki and actually make it stick, this time.
Summary: Desmond goes to the afterlife to cleanse at least some of the Filth.
Word Count: 3016
Rating: Teen
The actual process of getting there thankfully doesn’t involve a Piece of Eden or an artifact. It does involve sitting in front of a fire Old Joe’s started and breathing in the smoke, once they’ve gathered the right ingredients from nearby ghosts and wendigo and an herb. Rukh offers another feather without hesitation, like he knew the ingredients before Desmond had even glanced at Old Joe’s notebook, which honestly gives Desmond hope. If Rukh’s seen it done before, then there’s a chance of coming back, even if Old Joe himself makes it clear that he only knows what it’s supposed to do, not how it’s supposed to work.
And Nate himself hadn’t seen it, either, but it’s apparently a kinda common one in Dragon circles, so he’s at least familiar with it, and he’d managed to talk the others into remaining as anchors. Desmond would have liked some company, but he’s not sure if Katherine’s going to unglue herself from his side anytime soon, and Rukh wants to keep an eye on him, and Bob might just get to come along if he behaves himself and doesn’t run off, so it’s not like he’s going to be totally on his own here. Mainly from the way Nate was talking, it sounds like, well. Not the Bleeding Effect, though you probably could describe it that way if you wanted. Anchors are good to find your way back from the ‘land of the ancestors’. Basically, having something to come back for, and aware people serve as pretty effective anchors. Lydia had argued about the amulets serving the purpose well enough, but Nate hadn’t been completely confident in that idea. Something about the inanimate being less strong. Given the way he’s talking about it, serving as an anchor takes conscious effort, so Shaun being unaware of the whole thing means it doesn’t work as well, and it’s not like Desmond can just call him to warn him. As much as he’d like to do that.
As traveling to the past goes, the Animus was cleaner and not as smelly. Generally. If it’s bad for him, it’s even worse for a dog’s nose, but while she sneezes at it, Katherine isn’t actually put off enough to back off at all. Desmond would say that this way messes with the mind less, but as he breathes in again he suddenly feels a little bit dizzy, and the world suddenly goes technicolor. He’d say almost like in Eagle Vision, but this isn’t—
Wait.
No, it’s...kind of right, actually—Old Joe is blue, and so are the rest of his friends (he’s including Katherine in there, too). Over at the lodge, there’s two gold figures, but, again, there’s no way he’s pulling off an assassination under these circumstances. He really could have used more smoke bombs or—nah, that wouldn’t even work, not when they saw him just walk in. That would just be sloppy. As bad as the wannabe killer that came after him, and while he’s made a few amateurish mistakes that show he’s out of practice lately, he’s not that bad. And it’s not like they’re a high priority, either, they just...they bug him. Given that other people are in there, too, they’re probably planning on going to retrieve the body soon.
He’s sitting, but he still sways a little like he’s about to fall, because it’s everywhere and there are swirling patterns on the air that he has absolutely no frame of reference for. He’s definitely had patrons who were high babbling about seeing the universe (and getting upset when he wouldn’t give them a drink to continue to screw themselves over when he didn’t particularly want to see what would happen; he mixed drinks, not drinks and drugs) and he’d always dismissed that, but...maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe it did actually help unlock this stuff. The legacy of the Isu lurking in their DNA. It hurts his eyes, but he’s pretty used to working through the pain at this point.
It’s not what being an Isu is like. The thoughts scatter away when he tries to concentrate on them, but he’s pretty sure whatever happened briefly in the Fog was, well, if not entirely there, closer than he’ll probably ever get. Thankfully. But it’s closer than humans are meant to come, period, and human brains probably aren’t exactly designed to understand that stream of information coming at them. Fortunately, he knows how to deal with this kind of thing, too—just concentrate on what you want and tune the rest of it out.
“I do know it’s not instant, but if you need more direction…” Old Joe starts.
Desmond shakes his head, feeling a little distant and floaty. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Like, maybe starting with that gold thread twisting over itself going from the fire off away from the trailer park. Back the way they came, basically, though if he’s judging that angle right, it’d come out in front of the casino. He’s pretty sure that’s not where it’s going though.
He waits for a moment to see if this whole thing actually results in astral projection, or whatever, but given that he doesn’t suddenly pop out of his body, he’s guessing not, so he buries his fingers in Katherine’s fur and stands, still feeling a little unsteady on his feet. Katherine stands with him, Rukh hopping to his shoulder like he belongs there, and it’s imperfect but he definitely feels a little more present now. His eyes don’t help, seeing the colors dance and fold in on themselves, but if he concentrates on the feeling of ground under him, Katherine and Rukh and Bob nudging his shoes, the distant sound of seagulls and other birds, a slight breeze that he can hear and feel, it helps. He can’t smell anything over the smoke, but that’s fine. It’s probably better if he doesn’t try to breathe in too much more anyway. Given that this is supposed to get the Filth out of the dreams of the people on the island, he’s probably going to have to be marginally functional and able to fight.
Time to follow the thread. The rest don’t follow, but there’s something about markings and circles that Desmond hadn’t fully understood that means they have to stay there to keep it going. (Rukh had, apparently; he’d been paying close attention, head tilted with curiosity, not moving an inch.)
It turns out that it goes to the actual cemetery. Inside the gate colors swirl, but unlike the Agartha portal it’s not an inviting gold. He takes a deep breath of actual air (well, and fog) and reaches out—
It works pretty much the same way as all the other portals he’s interacted with here. One moment he’s in one place, and the next he’s somewhere else, which sounds really stupid when you say it out loud, but. There’s no transition. No adjusting, no sense of something in between. The human brain might find the daily commute boring enough to tune out, but a complete lack of transition is jarring. Weirdly, all the funky technicolor is gone. It’s now mostly washed out, faded colors and greys, with a few exceptions, like an old photograph.
“You are not one of the Kanien'kehá:ka. Are you Wabanaki?” a voice asks him.
He glances over, and finds a woman staring at him curiously. It’s not Kaniehtí:io, but between the deep blue and the sudden ease he feels he’s pretty sure she’s one of his ancestors. Though it maybe makes some sense that he’d run into an ancestor here. Given that Old Joe himself had called it the ‘land of the ancestors’. And if the time frame was going to be even vaguely accurate it wouldn’t be Connor or the others, even if Desmond is really, really curious how differently it went for any of them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can kind of see what she sees, actually wearing something Connor might have worn. And Katherine at his feet looks kinda wolf-like. (She’s actually sort of more on his feet? Maybe she’s trying to urge him not to go anywhere, but that’s kind of a failed gesture at this point. They’ve already gone somewhere.) Bob’s image, kinda hilariously, is being replaced by a small, wild-looking cat, though Desmond supposes they do make some of the same noises and that all these people moving around the camp would probably panic at the sight of an ak’ab, even if he’s friendly. He can’t tell from here if Rukh appears different too, here; it seems like the first thing his raven did was to go scout around. Not that Desmond doesn’t get that urge. If there was anything really to climb, Desmond would do the same thing. Synchronization might not be a thing anymore, but that map-feeling was still a thing that happened in real life.
It’s just an illusion. He still feels his hoodie. But he’s actually kind of blending in.
“I’m...an ally,” he tells her. He nearly tells her, but how exactly are you supposed to walk up to someone and say ‘by the way, I’m your descendant’ anyway?
She looks him over, slightly more skeptical. “Did the Norsemen bring you with them? You do not dress like they do.”
“No, not them either; I just...the outcome here will matter a lot in the future.” Though even the fact they won, Desmond’s guessing, doesn’t prevent all the suffering that followed. Then again, Shaun or his own weird experiences with history could have told him that. There’s no such thing as a perfect victory, just doing the best you can in the moment and hoping you can adjust things later or someone else can step into your place to finish the fight.
Why he’s here, though...okay, yeah, it probably has something to do with the war Red and the ravens had mentioned, but he has absolutely no idea if he’s here just to see something important or if he’s supposed to change something.
She examines him more closely, eyes sharp, and then guesses, “...you are a friendly spirit.”
That had been his first instinct as to an explanation if he’d chosen to give one and not just be cryptic, so he can work with that. “Something like that. Mind filling me in?”
“It is rare to meet a friendly spirit.” She’s teasing him, he’s pretty sure. Which is kind of a first, but also he hasn’t actually had a (sort of) face-to-face conversation with one of his ancestors before now. Ezio might, assuming he wasn’t too busy interrogating Desmond to figure out everything he knows. “I am Tekakwitha.”
“It’s an honor. Desmond.” Which might matter if she knows his name, but if it’s anything like his own world it’s pretty unlikely she would, and his instincts there are right.
She nods, face slightly intense like she’s memorizing his name. As unfamiliar as his first encounter with Kanienʼkéha had been, the same has to be true for her in reverse. “It is good to meet you, Desmond.”
“So...the Kanien'kehá:ka and Wabanaki don’t always get along, right?” They’d worked together before, but Connor’s memories suggest that’s more of a rare thing than not.
She sighs. “No, but some matters are more important than the best hunting ground. The Wabanaki protect this sacred land from all who mean harm, but when invaders came they were too many, and their magic was strange. They needed allies, and we came to help them, and we were not alone. The Norsemen sensed the danger. They brought the power of their gods with them, a light that strengthened good and punished evil.”
Rukh flies in, looking agitated, and her face turns grave. “The enemy is coming, Desmond. See, there? Follow the Varangian!”
That, apparently, is the name for the Norseman with the sword. Desmond expects the Siren Song, but there’s none of that, just a steady, healing light blasting away the Filth trying to crawl over the ground and actually feeling pure and healing when it washes over Desmond and the others.
It becomes pretty clear that the ancestors just keep reliving this fight over and over. It’s not just that it’s a historical event that’s so important to them. It’s actually being used against them, and they don’t even realize, and Desmond can see both. The noble fight they keep having to try to prevent the ak’ab and Mayans (or maybe Aztecs, or something; the only description Desmond got is that they’re ‘invaders from the South seeking to unleash the darkness lying dormant under the hills’ and figures it’s not like the Wabanaki or anyone else had the time to ask them politely who they were) from reaching their goal. The Norsemen and Sasquatch fighting and dying alongside them. They do seem really grateful for Desmond’s help healing and don’t seem to notice that he’s fighting with a modern gun. Or for Rukh, diving in and doing serious damage with his beak, or for Bob proudly toppling enemies over. Katherine still isn’t too fond of the fighting, but she’ll bite a Mayan’s arm before the enemy can bring down an axe or a club with sharp blades embedded in it. (As much as Desmond still thinks the sledgehammer or probably a club would be too slow, he actually kind of wants to try one, but picking up a weapon in the chaos of battle particularly when the enemies vanish after being defeated is just asking to get ambushed.) He contents himself with experimenting a little with the chaos magic when he thinks it’s safe to do so. It’s not too flashy, but it’s effective, which is exactly what Desmond would want if he’s going to use magic at all—just the occasional white glow around his hands or the enemy.
But they get done with one fight and then Desmond’s allies will corrupt, turning into Filth-creatures and attacking. At first, Desmond thinks it’s because they’re catching an actual glimpse of Bob and mistaking him for an enemy, but then Desmond’s own shadow twists up out of the ground and tries to slit his throat with a shadowy blade dripping Filth, which kind of suggests that maybe it’s not just a simple misunderstanding after all. And then after that point he just doesn’t have a shadow, which is...frankly a little bizarre, but also, this isn’t the real world, so maybe he should’ve expected more oddities like this in the first place.
Tekakwitha doesn’t change, but her wide eyed, somewhat disbelieving look says that this might be the first time she’s noticed. Like waking up from a bad dream. She doesn’t waste time pretending it’s not happening, though, biting her lips in fear or worry but keeping fighting alongside him anyway. She’s pretty good with that tomahawk, using it to deflect another axe strike and then burying it in the enemy with a flick of the wrist before they can even react.
They think they’re still fighting to prevent the Filth from spreading, but their intentions have become so twisted that they don’t realize they’re attacking their own allies. Probably in the real world or in dreams attacking their own ancestors or the townspeople. Occasionally one of those Guardian Hounds will appear and run away, leaking Filth all over, corrupting more of the landscape and the people fighting and dying on it. Fortunately, even without Connor’s training, Desmond would find it pretty hard not to be able to follow that kind of trail. More than once it looks like Connor’s one of the ones that gets corrupted, but Desmond’s pretty sure Connor doesn’t get born for decades if not longer. This seems like it’s before colonial times. Desmond’s not sure if it’s just dragging his ancestors into it because he’s actually alive and that changes everything in here somehow, or if the Filth is trying to mess with him, but either way he’s entirely sure Ratonhnhaké:ton would rather die than be used like this, so it’s not like it slows Desmond down too much. He half expects to see Altaïr or Ezio to get thrown into the mix, but maybe they can’t be because they don’t fit in.
And then, once they’ve finished off even the giant flying boar-Filth thing, the ‘Varangian’ returns the sword back to his side, the light lessens, to the point Desmond can actually kind of see again, and—
“What is wrong, Desmond? We overcame their cruel magic, did we not?” Tekakwitha, still trying to make sense of what’s happening. Still not aware that this is a reenactment, not the real deal.
And that’s Loki in the party, right behind the guy. He’s disguised himself well, but at this point Desmond can see right through it and fucking knows that’s him. He’d actually been able to grab the sword before and hadn’t gone for it, why? If he’d been wanting the Filth to spread, it would’ve been easier to just stand aside and do nothing, let the Mayans and the ak’ab win and unleash the Filth. He senses Desmond coming, though, even if Desmond’s attempt at a teleport was in his opinion pretty good, and raises a hand, sending Desmond and his allies tumbling backward.
Desmond gets two flashes of visions. One involves the Norsemen returning home, only to get stuck in the Sargasso Sea, red seaweed reaching around the vessels like the arms of a giant sea creature, conspicuously missing Loki. He’d just sent the sword away for safekeeping in the sea, turns out. Ready to be discovered by a fisherman centuries later. The other is the path through the mine to the place he needs to go to stop the god. Then he’s tumbling back out of the cemetery gates, back out onto his ass, and Katherine licks his face as if trying to ask if he’s okay, or make sure he will be. Which, yeah, but he’s feeling Rukh’s frustrated croak and Bob’s anxious dance. He really has to figure out how to get his blade into Loki and actually make it stick, this time.
