Death Comes on Swift Wings
Mar. 5th, 2026 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerIs it maybe a little messed up to put the Mummy reference title on the non-Egypt part? Sure. Am I doing it anyway? Yep.
Old Joe’s words about the well are only partly paraphrased.
I didn’t find anything on the Wabanaki using cairns (several other tribes, yes, Wabanaki no). But the Vikings definitely did, and there was some intermarriage/passing down of tradition there, so cairns being there in TSW is actually plausible.
I figured there was 0% chance drinking from the ‘well of the ancestors’ would be a normal experience for Des.
Beaumont does actually use clones several times during his fight, which made me go “huh” the first time I saw the final Al Mualim fight. Interestingly it’s a normal Chaos power you can buy, which...might end up being interesting when Desmond actually messes with Chaos magic more.
In-game Loki actually ends up the tortured prisoner of the Illuminati somehow. Which can’t be pleasant, but also he’s a trickster, so if they actually have the upper hand is a question we don’t have the answer to.
“You arrogant child!” and Altaïr’s words about the Creed are, of course, from the original.
Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond and Loki have one final confrontation.
Word Count: 3552
Rating: Teen
The Dragon might not care too much about artifacts, but it turns out the Templars sure do. (This isn’t too surprising, given that Shaun and Rebecca and even Sonnac seemed like they knew a decent amount about them, so Desmond had assumed that that was one instance where the old and new Templars weren’t too different. And if Eastern dragons are anything like Western ones, maybe they’d been trying to discourage any hoarding tendencies Alice might have. If that’s the case, good luck—if she’s planning on being an Assassin, that plan’s ruined pretty much from the moment she declared her intent.) As such, it turns out he’s really, really interested in the wraith’s scythe, as well as the egg-thing and the spirit within. When he hears that Desmond thinks it’s too slow, he laments that they don’t have the time or support to reforge it into a weapon Desmond can handle with greater ease. The entire concept is fascinating; apparently there’s a really long history of people doing that and it doesn’t lose a lot of the power, just transforms it, usually into a form that it’s easier for the wielder to use, and sometimes it’s also a good choice to sever any past ties it might have had. That idea of reforging could explain the whole Excalibur/Dainsleif situation, maybe, one reforged sword serving as both its old self and a new one, depending on who held it.
It is, however, possible to build up the momentum from a different weapon and then use magic to swap and keep the momentum. “It’s important to wait until you’re sure you’ve worn him down,” Javier warns. “With this technique you’re more likely to catch him by surprise, but if he’s still light enough on his feet, he might be able to dodge, and then you won’t catch him by surprise again. The witch or Rukh might be able to help wear him down, but you should only strike when the time is right.” That’s the kind of explanation Desmond gets.
“What’s up with the egg?” He’s not too hopeful Javier will know if Alice didn’t.
“It’s tied to you and it feels like an eagle spirit.” From the slight frustration in Javier’s tone, it’s possible he thinks this is weak and inadequate and that he should know more, but it’s way more than any of the others were able to tell him.
“Got it.” He doesn’t ask about waking it up or anything. It’s pretty clear that if the man had known, he would have said.
Javier actually takes them to the surface, a relatively safe spot above the mine, in order for a demonstration, and then he has Desmond practice until he can do it smoothly. He’s a hard taskmaster, but at this point he comes off more like Malik than an actual enemy, and he’s being a hardass specifically to keep Desmond alive. And maybe out of frustration he couldn’t do more, too, which is also Malik enough that Desmond doesn’t really mind. Rukh, meanwhile, seems to be practicing magic, teaching and reinforcing a pale and slightly shaken Darling’s own abilities, though Desmond can’t really keep an eye on him and focus at the same time. They’re still at it when Kyra shows back up, panting and being chased by Katherine. (Katherine specifically looks at Desmond like she’s trying to see if she’s finished her duty, but when he shakes his head she goes right back to work.)
“I didn’t manage to talk everyone into it, but I actually got Mom and Old Joe to talk for the first time in, like, forty years! She wasn’t too happy about it, and she kinda yelled at me, but I think she’ll be happy about it later once she gets over the freaking out part.” She’s really proud of herself, and for good reason too, and even her raven Midnight is preening (on a nearby perch, probably because even a young raven would be a pretty heavy burden on the shoulder of a young girl).
“Nice job,” Desmond tells her.
She grins. “They said the wards are even working now! Though they also said it’s not enough, which kinda surprised me. Mom was talking about how the earth is a body and we’ve kind of juiced up its natural immune system so it can start fighting this thing, but it needs one more boost, and that’s where you come in.” That’s an interesting way to put it, but it’s appropriate it comes up again. Kinda demonstrates how Vidic was nothing more than a close-minded asshole, though. Kyra’s got a better grasp on this than he did with all of his superior attitude. If they’re going with the infection analogy, there’s no need to jump to surgery first, and it’s not like that’s the only tool in an Assassin’s toolkit, just the primary one. The body can heal itself, given a push. “I don’t want to spoil too much, though. When you’re ready, I want to show you where to go. We’ve got a surprise for you.”
He glances at Javier. He doesn’t even get out the question. Javier sighs. Maybe a bit ostentatiously, but then, he tends to be a little theatrical. “I suppose this will have to do, with the amount of time we have.”
He’s not British, but he picked up the British method of praise from hanging around London. If Shaun is any indication, that is. Rebecca hasn’t, but then, she’s pretty set in being her own person, rather than conforming to anything.
“Lead on,” Desmond tells her.
It’s an interesting route, past the wendigo and some black, corrupted wisps. She pauses now and then, Katherine taking the lead when she’s unsure, so it’s clear this isn’t a path she’s taken before. Desmond catches the signs, though—it looks like there are piles of rocks along the way and she’s looking for those when she gets lost. Javier has his hand on his sword on his back the entire time and it’s clear he’s itching to actually fight everything they see but understands they don’t have the time. The other Templar following him has yet to speak but is much better at staying focused on a single task.
When she leads them to a cave, though, Javier stops following. “We’ll make sure you don’t get ambushed,” he announces. He might be wanting to pick fights, or maybe he gets the feeling he wouldn’t be welcome.
Desmond doesn’t want to insult him, but he does want to indicate that he cares, too. “See you back here after,” he tells him, because that’s a good way to put it, and Javier nods, almost snapping to attention, and then they duck into the cave entrance. It’s not too far before they’re there.
“I told you I’d bring him back, Mom,” Kyra yells. It feels a little weird in what has to be a sacred space. Old, and powerful, but not hostile, not the enemy.
“It is good to see you again, Desmond,” Old Joe greets from the other side of a pool. It’s not the full group, but it does look like the reunion is good. Healing. The only part that confuses Desmond is that John Wolf and Jack Boone are here, for some reason. He’d gotten the sense John Wolf had some tribal ancestry, but hadn’t expected it to be Wabanaki. Then again, he might well be from a related tribe from the mainland or could even be Kanien'kehá:ka. “You are diminished, as are we. This will not help you in your final confrontation with the god calling himself Beaumont, but here, at the last gasp, it is good to remember that you are not alone. We will do what we can to help you, as, I’m sure, will your absent friends, but more than that…” He gestures at the waters. “To fight an enemy from long ago, you will need the strength from long ago. Welcome to the well of our forefathers. Drink deep, all of you, and they will aid you, at least for a little while.”
That...sounds oddly familiar. Darling goes for it without hesitation, but then, she’s used to getting possessed by her grandmother. Rukh is slightly more cautious, eyeing the water (it looks bottomless, which it can’t be, not naturally anyway) and then dives off Desmond’s shoulder, inching closer to the water like it’s going to reach up and try to drown him before taking a few cautious sips. Desmond’s fairly sure it’s not going to work exactly the way anyone expects, given his own past, but it’s not like he can explain it or his own fears, so he just sits down, cross-legged, cups his hands and reaches out and drinks.
At first, nothing happens. It’s the best damn water Desmond’s ever tasted in his life, but that’s it. He hears the beginning of Kyra starting to ask what went wrong, but he’s gone before she finishes the sentence.
The white rush making him dizzy is pretty Animus-y, but he doesn’t see any lines of code or signs of the world re-drawing itself. And suddenly he can feel them. Not distant, not illusions, but right there in his own head, just as pissed off about this whole Loki thing as he is, and more than ready to lend their blades to help. Old Joe had indicated this would be temporary, and hopefully he’s right, because as much as he likes their company, Desmond would really, really rather not have to deal with the Bleeding Effect 2.0. 1.0 was bad enough.
His own body feels separate. Not like it would when he was in the Animus, or on the verge of experiencing an episode of the Bleeding Effect. Like when you’re just about to fall asleep. It’s heavy and warm and comfortable and it doesn’t feel like something to panic about. Usually in the recent past that’s something to worry about, but this time none of the protections or charms are even registering this, so he’s pretty sure he can (tentatively) trust this. Among other things, he’s pretty sure his ancestors wouldn’t willingly hurt him.
“I thought it’d be safe!” Ami yells from what feels like a long distance. Weirdly he can feel someone try to pull him into a sitting position (wasn’t he still sitting; what happened?). It feels like as good a time as any to go back, and this doesn’t go like when Desmond had been trapped in the Animus, pounding on the walls and begging to be let out. They just open his eyes.
“I’m okay,” Desmond manages, trying his best to sound reassuring. From Kyra’s wide-eyed stare, Katherine’s mournful eyes, and Ami’s straight up disbelieving look, he doesn’t pull it off.
“You were having a seizure,” Ami corrects, healing him carefully.
Surprisingly, it’s Ligeia who comes to their rescue. “He’s fine. The ancestors seem to like him, like sticking his fingers in a live power socket. He wasn’t ready for the power.”
“It definitely caught me by surprise,” Desmond agrees. It’s honest enough. Even if Connor disagrees with the fact that he’s not just telling them the whole truth, rather than just giving them a misleading part of it. It’s not like it’s a concept entirely unknown to the Wabanaki, but they can’t afford the delay for a longer explanation when who knows how long the water will last. “But we need to get this going now.”
It’s a good thing that ‘we’ is appropriate word under the circumstances, because it slipped out before any of them could catch it.
“He is right.” Old Joe nods, leaning heavily on his cane. “This won’t last forever, and we need to act now while there’s still a chance to stop this.”
“Do you think you know the way back on your own?” Kyra asks. “I think I’m kinda needed here.”
“I think I can manage that, yeah.” Or Ratonhnhaké:ton can, anyway, if following the rock piles doesn’t work.
“Who are you, then, sonny?” Ligeia asks quietly as they walk back out to the entrance, when they’re out of earshot, and for a moment his mind blanks and he can’t answer. He manages to pry the name Desmond out of the corner of his mind, and that sounds right enough he figures he’ll say it out loud.
Her knowing look says she doesn’t believe a word. “That is the body you’re using, yes, but who’s the man behind the wheel, eh?”
There are other names. They’re all right, and none of them at the same time. “We’re an Assassin,” is the most true answer he can give to that question.
She studies them further and then nods. “You should speak to my granddaughter, after all this,” she tells them, suggesting she might have a better idea of what’s going on than she appears. That they might have this in common.
Javier and the other Templar actually happen to be clearing the area of the wisps. Fortunately, they’re a little too impatient to notice anything’s different, preferring to move quick and quiet, ready for the final fight. Stealthing past everything again is extremely easy, this time. Some of that might be that there’s few of them compared to previously, but Desmond’s happy enough to take more pointers. They can’t do the same with the Filth, worryingly more common on the way, but soon enough they’re in front of the Filth-vines. Interestingly, it’s easier than ever to call on the Calculations, everyone else tense and ready to attack the second the way is empty. Maybe having multiple minds spreading out the effort helps. He pours in what feels like pure sunlight, and the vines wither and shrivel away, and they’re attacking without giving Loki a second to respond. Of course, he manages to do so anyway, teleporting seemingly effortlessly out of the way of some attacks while allowing others to connect only to allow the illusion to die unceremoniously on the Filthy rock floor.
“You’re...different, somehow. Who are you?” It’s interesting that Loki can tell immediately, but still can’t quite place him. Ignoring everyone else, but they’d expected that arrogance. The blood’s still there, though—dried, and he’d tried to wipe it away, but it hasn’t just healed, either.
“Guess,” he responds and immediately follows that up with another attack with his own sword. Loki seems to have learned that merely running away helps nothing when there are enough of them to chase him down. As much as he’d like to use the Hidden Blades more, relying on them previously had been a mistake. He had managed to draw blood, yes, but catching him by surprise had been ineffective, and Javier had been completely right. He’d needed to wear Loki down, rather than just going for a clean, quick kill.
The sword Loki fights back with, blocking strikes and trying for more attacks of his own, looks identical to Excalibur (or the Dainsleif), but it can’t be, not if it’s still where they’d seen it on entering, continuing to bleed the Filth from the earth. It’s probably another illusion.
Of course, he realizes suddenly with a deep satisfaction, he actually has another advantage here. Loki liked to run away, to disable, so much. He can’t run away here, not and keep his plan going that he’d been working toward all this time. He has to stay here to ensure the blade stays right where it is until the Filth manages to overwhelm again.
He’s not surprised when Loki summons copies to fight. Tries to focus on keeping his distance, using magic, only staying to fight when he’s cornered. Teleporting into a fight feels like second nature now, making that somewhat more difficult for Loki. And of course his allies help with that. Rukh happens to be mirroring Loki’s own strategy, keeping his distance and casting spells they hadn’t known he knew. Ligeia earned her reputation, because all of her magic is downright vicious and she’s not holding back. She had been, before. If he hadn’t been using copies, or if he didn’t have the expected godlike healing, making his blood boil in his veins (like the Illuminati golem) or burst out of him would be more than a mild inconvenience. Javier is rash, prone to devastating yet reckless attacks with his sword and only occasionally remembering that his pistols exist, leaving himself open and vulnerable. His quiet friend turns out to be using a hammer and chaos magic, trying to distract and keep Loki from taking advantage of any of Javier’s mistakes.
Likewise, they’re not surprised when he summons not one but two Filth hounds. Desmond cries out when the room fills with Filth, filling his lungs, drowning him, only for Ezio to point out that a drowning man can’t cry out. It’s an illusion. Another illusion brought by a pathetic coward hiding behind tricks rather than trusting in his own skill to save him. Two can play at that game.
It’s easy enough to pull the actual fight to the courtyard, though he notices as he hammers down another blow against Loki’s sword and watches the man wince that while temperate snow is falling, but it isn’t gathering on the ground. He hadn’t managed to keep the memory to one specific time. Now isn’t the time to get distracted, though. The point is that this is as real as Loki’s little Filth pool, but it’s untainted by Filth, and it might take Loki some time to manipulate it and use the Filth again.
“...Altaïr?” It’s probably his swordwork that confirms it, Altaïr guesses.
“Took you long enough, master.” And then, because they’re not an idiot, Ezio immediately takes the lead after the taunt, switching up the fighting just enough to keep Loki off balance.
“You arrogant child!” Loki spits, clearly...upset at the fact that Ezio’s managed to draw blood. Desmond takes his place, while Connor keeps an eye out for anything in the environment that might be useful. Illusory or not, if he feels the pain, it’ll help throw him further off balance. They haven’t been duel-wielding this entire time, and while he doesn’t feel like he’ll actually get a kill-shot off, he’ll probably be able to draw blood again. He only barely nicks the skin, unfortunately, as Loki moves his head out of the way, but Desmond’s ready for that, smacking him in the head with the hilt of the sword. Most of the momentum is Loki’s, not his. Javier follows that up, cutting deep into Loki’s shoulder.
“Enough!” Loki yells, freezing them all in place again. He’s clearly straining to keep them all contained, blood dripping from where Desmond had managed to get one good hit in. “This has gone on for long enough. It ends here.” He picks up the sword from where it had skittered, not bothering with the illusion.
We agree, Connor notes. Eagle-spirit, if you are to help, the time is now.
The crack echoes through the room. It’s a rushing feeling again, but this time, it’s the feeling of flying. He feels his shoes gently set down on the ground—it’s the rock of the cavern, coated with the Filth, again, but he’s lighting up the whole room again and this time it’s not just the tats. Because this is a solid, brilliant white. The Filth scuttles away like it’s a bunch of vermin scared of the light. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see glowing white wings.
“Impossible,” Loki whispers, and for the first time, they can see fear.
“Everything is permitted,” he counters, almost gently, and buries the Hidden Blade in Loki’s throat. No tricks, no illusion, no healing. Loki falls, eyes lifeless, and this time he stays there. They kneel to close his eyes, for even a god dying, perhaps, deserves some respect at the end.
He’s waiting for Loki, this time. Well, they all are, actually, though if he actually turns to look at Connor or Ezio or Altaïr they vanish like smoke.
“Well, Ragnarök might not happen today, but that doesn’t mean I’ve failed,” Loki muses, still a little menacing even in death. “I thought the Assassin experiment failed, and yet here you are, the perfect example of a man willing and able to kill the gods. And you should, you know; the great All-Father Odin isn’t on your side any more than he’s on mine. He doesn’t care about humans.”
“I’ll consider it, but the Assassins aren’t meant to just be the weapon of a single man. Our Creed does not command us to be free; it commands us to be wise.” Ezio and Connor and even Desmond agree; they’ve seen the dangers.
Loki smiles. Not a deceptive smile, not a smirk. A moment of peace. “Time will tell if you live by your words.”
When they’re back in the real world, though, none of them can move. Again. Javier is frozen, arm outstretched, while Ligeia checks on Desmond. Which is when the voice speaks from behind, near the entrance to the underground room.
“Just like a man, claiming what’s not rightfully his.” Cassie! What’s she doing here? “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it. Better than Loki. In the meantime...I think there’s some people that want to talk to you.”
They’re gone before they can even reply.
Old Joe’s words about the well are only partly paraphrased.
I didn’t find anything on the Wabanaki using cairns (several other tribes, yes, Wabanaki no). But the Vikings definitely did, and there was some intermarriage/passing down of tradition there, so cairns being there in TSW is actually plausible.
I figured there was 0% chance drinking from the ‘well of the ancestors’ would be a normal experience for Des.
Beaumont does actually use clones several times during his fight, which made me go “huh” the first time I saw the final Al Mualim fight. Interestingly it’s a normal Chaos power you can buy, which...might end up being interesting when Desmond actually messes with Chaos magic more.
In-game Loki actually ends up the tortured prisoner of the Illuminati somehow. Which can’t be pleasant, but also he’s a trickster, so if they actually have the upper hand is a question we don’t have the answer to.
“You arrogant child!” and Altaïr’s words about the Creed are, of course, from the original.
Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond and Loki have one final confrontation.
Word Count: 3552
Rating: Teen
The Dragon might not care too much about artifacts, but it turns out the Templars sure do. (This isn’t too surprising, given that Shaun and Rebecca and even Sonnac seemed like they knew a decent amount about them, so Desmond had assumed that that was one instance where the old and new Templars weren’t too different. And if Eastern dragons are anything like Western ones, maybe they’d been trying to discourage any hoarding tendencies Alice might have. If that’s the case, good luck—if she’s planning on being an Assassin, that plan’s ruined pretty much from the moment she declared her intent.) As such, it turns out he’s really, really interested in the wraith’s scythe, as well as the egg-thing and the spirit within. When he hears that Desmond thinks it’s too slow, he laments that they don’t have the time or support to reforge it into a weapon Desmond can handle with greater ease. The entire concept is fascinating; apparently there’s a really long history of people doing that and it doesn’t lose a lot of the power, just transforms it, usually into a form that it’s easier for the wielder to use, and sometimes it’s also a good choice to sever any past ties it might have had. That idea of reforging could explain the whole Excalibur/Dainsleif situation, maybe, one reforged sword serving as both its old self and a new one, depending on who held it.
It is, however, possible to build up the momentum from a different weapon and then use magic to swap and keep the momentum. “It’s important to wait until you’re sure you’ve worn him down,” Javier warns. “With this technique you’re more likely to catch him by surprise, but if he’s still light enough on his feet, he might be able to dodge, and then you won’t catch him by surprise again. The witch or Rukh might be able to help wear him down, but you should only strike when the time is right.” That’s the kind of explanation Desmond gets.
“What’s up with the egg?” He’s not too hopeful Javier will know if Alice didn’t.
“It’s tied to you and it feels like an eagle spirit.” From the slight frustration in Javier’s tone, it’s possible he thinks this is weak and inadequate and that he should know more, but it’s way more than any of the others were able to tell him.
“Got it.” He doesn’t ask about waking it up or anything. It’s pretty clear that if the man had known, he would have said.
Javier actually takes them to the surface, a relatively safe spot above the mine, in order for a demonstration, and then he has Desmond practice until he can do it smoothly. He’s a hard taskmaster, but at this point he comes off more like Malik than an actual enemy, and he’s being a hardass specifically to keep Desmond alive. And maybe out of frustration he couldn’t do more, too, which is also Malik enough that Desmond doesn’t really mind. Rukh, meanwhile, seems to be practicing magic, teaching and reinforcing a pale and slightly shaken Darling’s own abilities, though Desmond can’t really keep an eye on him and focus at the same time. They’re still at it when Kyra shows back up, panting and being chased by Katherine. (Katherine specifically looks at Desmond like she’s trying to see if she’s finished her duty, but when he shakes his head she goes right back to work.)
“I didn’t manage to talk everyone into it, but I actually got Mom and Old Joe to talk for the first time in, like, forty years! She wasn’t too happy about it, and she kinda yelled at me, but I think she’ll be happy about it later once she gets over the freaking out part.” She’s really proud of herself, and for good reason too, and even her raven Midnight is preening (on a nearby perch, probably because even a young raven would be a pretty heavy burden on the shoulder of a young girl).
“Nice job,” Desmond tells her.
She grins. “They said the wards are even working now! Though they also said it’s not enough, which kinda surprised me. Mom was talking about how the earth is a body and we’ve kind of juiced up its natural immune system so it can start fighting this thing, but it needs one more boost, and that’s where you come in.” That’s an interesting way to put it, but it’s appropriate it comes up again. Kinda demonstrates how Vidic was nothing more than a close-minded asshole, though. Kyra’s got a better grasp on this than he did with all of his superior attitude. If they’re going with the infection analogy, there’s no need to jump to surgery first, and it’s not like that’s the only tool in an Assassin’s toolkit, just the primary one. The body can heal itself, given a push. “I don’t want to spoil too much, though. When you’re ready, I want to show you where to go. We’ve got a surprise for you.”
He glances at Javier. He doesn’t even get out the question. Javier sighs. Maybe a bit ostentatiously, but then, he tends to be a little theatrical. “I suppose this will have to do, with the amount of time we have.”
He’s not British, but he picked up the British method of praise from hanging around London. If Shaun is any indication, that is. Rebecca hasn’t, but then, she’s pretty set in being her own person, rather than conforming to anything.
“Lead on,” Desmond tells her.
It’s an interesting route, past the wendigo and some black, corrupted wisps. She pauses now and then, Katherine taking the lead when she’s unsure, so it’s clear this isn’t a path she’s taken before. Desmond catches the signs, though—it looks like there are piles of rocks along the way and she’s looking for those when she gets lost. Javier has his hand on his sword on his back the entire time and it’s clear he’s itching to actually fight everything they see but understands they don’t have the time. The other Templar following him has yet to speak but is much better at staying focused on a single task.
When she leads them to a cave, though, Javier stops following. “We’ll make sure you don’t get ambushed,” he announces. He might be wanting to pick fights, or maybe he gets the feeling he wouldn’t be welcome.
Desmond doesn’t want to insult him, but he does want to indicate that he cares, too. “See you back here after,” he tells him, because that’s a good way to put it, and Javier nods, almost snapping to attention, and then they duck into the cave entrance. It’s not too far before they’re there.
“I told you I’d bring him back, Mom,” Kyra yells. It feels a little weird in what has to be a sacred space. Old, and powerful, but not hostile, not the enemy.
“It is good to see you again, Desmond,” Old Joe greets from the other side of a pool. It’s not the full group, but it does look like the reunion is good. Healing. The only part that confuses Desmond is that John Wolf and Jack Boone are here, for some reason. He’d gotten the sense John Wolf had some tribal ancestry, but hadn’t expected it to be Wabanaki. Then again, he might well be from a related tribe from the mainland or could even be Kanien'kehá:ka. “You are diminished, as are we. This will not help you in your final confrontation with the god calling himself Beaumont, but here, at the last gasp, it is good to remember that you are not alone. We will do what we can to help you, as, I’m sure, will your absent friends, but more than that…” He gestures at the waters. “To fight an enemy from long ago, you will need the strength from long ago. Welcome to the well of our forefathers. Drink deep, all of you, and they will aid you, at least for a little while.”
That...sounds oddly familiar. Darling goes for it without hesitation, but then, she’s used to getting possessed by her grandmother. Rukh is slightly more cautious, eyeing the water (it looks bottomless, which it can’t be, not naturally anyway) and then dives off Desmond’s shoulder, inching closer to the water like it’s going to reach up and try to drown him before taking a few cautious sips. Desmond’s fairly sure it’s not going to work exactly the way anyone expects, given his own past, but it’s not like he can explain it or his own fears, so he just sits down, cross-legged, cups his hands and reaches out and drinks.
At first, nothing happens. It’s the best damn water Desmond’s ever tasted in his life, but that’s it. He hears the beginning of Kyra starting to ask what went wrong, but he’s gone before she finishes the sentence.
The white rush making him dizzy is pretty Animus-y, but he doesn’t see any lines of code or signs of the world re-drawing itself. And suddenly he can feel them. Not distant, not illusions, but right there in his own head, just as pissed off about this whole Loki thing as he is, and more than ready to lend their blades to help. Old Joe had indicated this would be temporary, and hopefully he’s right, because as much as he likes their company, Desmond would really, really rather not have to deal with the Bleeding Effect 2.0. 1.0 was bad enough.
His own body feels separate. Not like it would when he was in the Animus, or on the verge of experiencing an episode of the Bleeding Effect. Like when you’re just about to fall asleep. It’s heavy and warm and comfortable and it doesn’t feel like something to panic about. Usually in the recent past that’s something to worry about, but this time none of the protections or charms are even registering this, so he’s pretty sure he can (tentatively) trust this. Among other things, he’s pretty sure his ancestors wouldn’t willingly hurt him.
“I thought it’d be safe!” Ami yells from what feels like a long distance. Weirdly he can feel someone try to pull him into a sitting position (wasn’t he still sitting; what happened?). It feels like as good a time as any to go back, and this doesn’t go like when Desmond had been trapped in the Animus, pounding on the walls and begging to be let out. They just open his eyes.
“I’m okay,” Desmond manages, trying his best to sound reassuring. From Kyra’s wide-eyed stare, Katherine’s mournful eyes, and Ami’s straight up disbelieving look, he doesn’t pull it off.
“You were having a seizure,” Ami corrects, healing him carefully.
Surprisingly, it’s Ligeia who comes to their rescue. “He’s fine. The ancestors seem to like him, like sticking his fingers in a live power socket. He wasn’t ready for the power.”
“It definitely caught me by surprise,” Desmond agrees. It’s honest enough. Even if Connor disagrees with the fact that he’s not just telling them the whole truth, rather than just giving them a misleading part of it. It’s not like it’s a concept entirely unknown to the Wabanaki, but they can’t afford the delay for a longer explanation when who knows how long the water will last. “But we need to get this going now.”
It’s a good thing that ‘we’ is appropriate word under the circumstances, because it slipped out before any of them could catch it.
“He is right.” Old Joe nods, leaning heavily on his cane. “This won’t last forever, and we need to act now while there’s still a chance to stop this.”
“Do you think you know the way back on your own?” Kyra asks. “I think I’m kinda needed here.”
“I think I can manage that, yeah.” Or Ratonhnhaké:ton can, anyway, if following the rock piles doesn’t work.
“Who are you, then, sonny?” Ligeia asks quietly as they walk back out to the entrance, when they’re out of earshot, and for a moment his mind blanks and he can’t answer. He manages to pry the name Desmond out of the corner of his mind, and that sounds right enough he figures he’ll say it out loud.
Her knowing look says she doesn’t believe a word. “That is the body you’re using, yes, but who’s the man behind the wheel, eh?”
There are other names. They’re all right, and none of them at the same time. “We’re an Assassin,” is the most true answer he can give to that question.
She studies them further and then nods. “You should speak to my granddaughter, after all this,” she tells them, suggesting she might have a better idea of what’s going on than she appears. That they might have this in common.
Javier and the other Templar actually happen to be clearing the area of the wisps. Fortunately, they’re a little too impatient to notice anything’s different, preferring to move quick and quiet, ready for the final fight. Stealthing past everything again is extremely easy, this time. Some of that might be that there’s few of them compared to previously, but Desmond’s happy enough to take more pointers. They can’t do the same with the Filth, worryingly more common on the way, but soon enough they’re in front of the Filth-vines. Interestingly, it’s easier than ever to call on the Calculations, everyone else tense and ready to attack the second the way is empty. Maybe having multiple minds spreading out the effort helps. He pours in what feels like pure sunlight, and the vines wither and shrivel away, and they’re attacking without giving Loki a second to respond. Of course, he manages to do so anyway, teleporting seemingly effortlessly out of the way of some attacks while allowing others to connect only to allow the illusion to die unceremoniously on the Filthy rock floor.
“You’re...different, somehow. Who are you?” It’s interesting that Loki can tell immediately, but still can’t quite place him. Ignoring everyone else, but they’d expected that arrogance. The blood’s still there, though—dried, and he’d tried to wipe it away, but it hasn’t just healed, either.
“Guess,” he responds and immediately follows that up with another attack with his own sword. Loki seems to have learned that merely running away helps nothing when there are enough of them to chase him down. As much as he’d like to use the Hidden Blades more, relying on them previously had been a mistake. He had managed to draw blood, yes, but catching him by surprise had been ineffective, and Javier had been completely right. He’d needed to wear Loki down, rather than just going for a clean, quick kill.
The sword Loki fights back with, blocking strikes and trying for more attacks of his own, looks identical to Excalibur (or the Dainsleif), but it can’t be, not if it’s still where they’d seen it on entering, continuing to bleed the Filth from the earth. It’s probably another illusion.
Of course, he realizes suddenly with a deep satisfaction, he actually has another advantage here. Loki liked to run away, to disable, so much. He can’t run away here, not and keep his plan going that he’d been working toward all this time. He has to stay here to ensure the blade stays right where it is until the Filth manages to overwhelm again.
He’s not surprised when Loki summons copies to fight. Tries to focus on keeping his distance, using magic, only staying to fight when he’s cornered. Teleporting into a fight feels like second nature now, making that somewhat more difficult for Loki. And of course his allies help with that. Rukh happens to be mirroring Loki’s own strategy, keeping his distance and casting spells they hadn’t known he knew. Ligeia earned her reputation, because all of her magic is downright vicious and she’s not holding back. She had been, before. If he hadn’t been using copies, or if he didn’t have the expected godlike healing, making his blood boil in his veins (like the Illuminati golem) or burst out of him would be more than a mild inconvenience. Javier is rash, prone to devastating yet reckless attacks with his sword and only occasionally remembering that his pistols exist, leaving himself open and vulnerable. His quiet friend turns out to be using a hammer and chaos magic, trying to distract and keep Loki from taking advantage of any of Javier’s mistakes.
Likewise, they’re not surprised when he summons not one but two Filth hounds. Desmond cries out when the room fills with Filth, filling his lungs, drowning him, only for Ezio to point out that a drowning man can’t cry out. It’s an illusion. Another illusion brought by a pathetic coward hiding behind tricks rather than trusting in his own skill to save him. Two can play at that game.
It’s easy enough to pull the actual fight to the courtyard, though he notices as he hammers down another blow against Loki’s sword and watches the man wince that while temperate snow is falling, but it isn’t gathering on the ground. He hadn’t managed to keep the memory to one specific time. Now isn’t the time to get distracted, though. The point is that this is as real as Loki’s little Filth pool, but it’s untainted by Filth, and it might take Loki some time to manipulate it and use the Filth again.
“...Altaïr?” It’s probably his swordwork that confirms it, Altaïr guesses.
“Took you long enough, master.” And then, because they’re not an idiot, Ezio immediately takes the lead after the taunt, switching up the fighting just enough to keep Loki off balance.
“You arrogant child!” Loki spits, clearly...upset at the fact that Ezio’s managed to draw blood. Desmond takes his place, while Connor keeps an eye out for anything in the environment that might be useful. Illusory or not, if he feels the pain, it’ll help throw him further off balance. They haven’t been duel-wielding this entire time, and while he doesn’t feel like he’ll actually get a kill-shot off, he’ll probably be able to draw blood again. He only barely nicks the skin, unfortunately, as Loki moves his head out of the way, but Desmond’s ready for that, smacking him in the head with the hilt of the sword. Most of the momentum is Loki’s, not his. Javier follows that up, cutting deep into Loki’s shoulder.
“Enough!” Loki yells, freezing them all in place again. He’s clearly straining to keep them all contained, blood dripping from where Desmond had managed to get one good hit in. “This has gone on for long enough. It ends here.” He picks up the sword from where it had skittered, not bothering with the illusion.
We agree, Connor notes. Eagle-spirit, if you are to help, the time is now.
The crack echoes through the room. It’s a rushing feeling again, but this time, it’s the feeling of flying. He feels his shoes gently set down on the ground—it’s the rock of the cavern, coated with the Filth, again, but he’s lighting up the whole room again and this time it’s not just the tats. Because this is a solid, brilliant white. The Filth scuttles away like it’s a bunch of vermin scared of the light. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see glowing white wings.
“Impossible,” Loki whispers, and for the first time, they can see fear.
“Everything is permitted,” he counters, almost gently, and buries the Hidden Blade in Loki’s throat. No tricks, no illusion, no healing. Loki falls, eyes lifeless, and this time he stays there. They kneel to close his eyes, for even a god dying, perhaps, deserves some respect at the end.
He’s waiting for Loki, this time. Well, they all are, actually, though if he actually turns to look at Connor or Ezio or Altaïr they vanish like smoke.
“Well, Ragnarök might not happen today, but that doesn’t mean I’ve failed,” Loki muses, still a little menacing even in death. “I thought the Assassin experiment failed, and yet here you are, the perfect example of a man willing and able to kill the gods. And you should, you know; the great All-Father Odin isn’t on your side any more than he’s on mine. He doesn’t care about humans.”
“I’ll consider it, but the Assassins aren’t meant to just be the weapon of a single man. Our Creed does not command us to be free; it commands us to be wise.” Ezio and Connor and even Desmond agree; they’ve seen the dangers.
Loki smiles. Not a deceptive smile, not a smirk. A moment of peace. “Time will tell if you live by your words.”
When they’re back in the real world, though, none of them can move. Again. Javier is frozen, arm outstretched, while Ligeia checks on Desmond. Which is when the voice speaks from behind, near the entrance to the underground room.
“Just like a man, claiming what’s not rightfully his.” Cassie! What’s she doing here? “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it. Better than Loki. In the meantime...I think there’s some people that want to talk to you.”
They’re gone before they can even reply.
