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madimpossibledreamerWrap-up (in-story) for Echoes is now complete, so stay tuned for extras for Echoes, and then it’s back to the second half of this part.
Oh hey, London map. And the puppet guy is actually visible in one of the panorama shots, as well as the coffee shop. https://tsw-geo.theravens.cz/london-map/
It’s actually a kettle, not a pot. Desmond would make a joke about it if it’d actually come up. Shaun won’t even get it to stick if/when it comes up, partly because Desmond can occasionally be the guy pulling pigtails and thinks it’s harmless enough that bugging Shaun with it would be hilarious.
Shaun blurting out “I’ve been weird about watching you”
Desmond: “I’m kinda into that though”
Shaun (still wearing his pyjamas, as a reminder): almost walks into a door
at least the innuendo was only in his head
Desmond also being casually ableist (using lame because of course he would) because this man cannot stop being a disaster for five minutes I swear—
Yes I am prone to the occasional pun title why do you ask
Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond gets to finally relax and breathe and hang out with Shaun and Rebecca and Chelsea. And maybe accidentally flirt with Shaun while he's at it.
Word Count: 4255
Rating: Teen
Rebecca’s plots aren’t quite done, it seems like. It looks like Chelsea wants to talk to Desmond more, but she’s out of it enough (probably from being held in a cell; didn’t she mention something about not sleeping anymore?) to not immediately slip out of the conversation Rebecca draws her into. Desmond only realizes as they pull ahead exactly what she’s planning, though—now it’s just him and Shaun. It’s probably not going to work out the way she thinks, but he’s been wanting to talk to Shaun all this time, and Shaun definitely wants to talk, too, even if he’s not making the first move himself. He just keeps sneaking glances at Desmond, like he’s trying to reassure himself Desmond’s actually here and in one piece. “So, where’s your desk from?”
Shaun has never looked more shocked. That Desmond’s seen him, anyway. Shocked and a little scandalized. “This is the first time we’ve been able to talk in quite some time, we’ve barely escaped a trial and possible execution, and that’s what you want to ask me?”
“Yeah.” Desmond’s grinning. It splits his lip again, but he’s barely feeling it, at this point. He could just heal it, but...it doesn’t hurt that the blood immediately draws Shaun’s eyes and he half looks like he wants to try to treat it (however you’d treat a wound on the lip if you’re not using magic; it’s not like Desmond actually knew and he’s still got the scar) and half like he just wants to go for a kiss. “I figured, it looks old and like it’s got a lot of history and I bet Shaun knows all of it.”
“Well, I—” Shaun laughs. It’s probably nerves, but he’s also starting to look ridiculously pleased. “I can’t be sure, of course. I’d say it’s another case of history being lost to the ages, but that would indicate records of some kind were made in the first place. Not recommended, if you’re trying to be discreet or do anything against the law. But I won it, at an antiques fair, and relocated it once I’d been recruited from teaching.” He quickly gets into it, after the initial bout of nerves. “What I was told was that it had been used in the main office of an untaxed newspaper office. For non-historians like you, that means an illicit newspaper. The crown levied a tax because it didn’t quite like what people did with the ability to print things that were not so complimentary about the royals. Now, Brits being who we are, we love a good grumble, and tend to be contrary bastards, so a good number of newspapers just sprung up in defiance. What they lacked in professional knowledge they made up in enthusiasm. And then, of course, those royals hadn’t taken into account the Streisand effect, mostly because the term hadn’t been coined until 2003. Attempting to conceal information, like telling people ‘there’s nothing to see at Area 51, move along’, even if those words are true, just happens to make people more curious and convinced there’s something there to see.”
Hey, a term he’s heard recently, so he’s not completely lost. “They’re actually teaching that Streisand effect thing to the Illuminati Academy students.”
“Probably in their training to try to suppress the truth, I’ll bet. Montag’s been headmaster for quite some time, and not simply because of his survival instincts.” He says that, but he’s happy his friend’s still alive, even if he’s doing a better job hiding it now that he’s woken up a bit. But then he hesitates, frowning harder when Desmond turns to look at him, concerned. “In the interests of full disclosure, you should know we were monitoring you.”
Desmond laughs. “What, Rebecca’s spy program she installed on my phone? Shaun, that’s not news.”
Shaun looks torn between shock and outrage. “I—she assured me she was very discreet,” he begins, getting sidetracked with pretty quickly. “You shouldn’t just...accept invasions into your privacy like that!”
“I won’t say anything stupid like ‘I have nothing to hide’, but I trust both of you.” He’s tempted to go into the record store as they pass and he hears just a snatch of the music from inside, but he still doesn’t have a record player and while he’s gone without food before, it’s not like he wants to. Besides, Shaun might just faceplant on the street if he doesn’t get his tea soon. “Shaun, if I’d wanted it off my phone, it would’ve been gone.”
He doesn’t have to explain that he’d be using the Calculations to do it. He knows some of the basics, and both Shaun and Rebecca had taught him a few things when they’d actually had a little time when he wasn’t in the Animus, but that didn’t make him an expert or anything.
Shaun seems to be having trouble with the whole concept. And sure, actually mentioning this might blow his cover, but on the other hand they’ve been writing off absolutely everything else as just ‘weird Dragon with cult background’, why not this? And, if he thinks about it, if they have surveillance, they probably know or suspect some of this already. They’re nearly to the coffee shop. The puppet guy is still there, ranting about something else, and Desmond does his best to ignore the fact that the man even exists just in case he says something else that sets him off. Again. He’d hate to ruin this. “You didn’t have any reason to help me, but you did. You’ve both been more helpful than the people I actually am supposed to be working for already; hell, Orochi is more helpful and they’re complete assholes. I figured it’s quicker to have you help me out with some of the puzzles, plus you have my back and can warn someone if I get in over my head. You know I’m competent, but part of that is knowing my limits, and it makes me feel better knowing you’re both there.” He grabs the door for Shaun, who doesn’t thank him. Rebecca does, and she elbows Shaun on the way out.
“We’ll meet you in the park,” she announces brightly and drags Chelsea off, again.
The thing Rebecca didn’t get to see is, Shaun isn’t being rude. He’s turning a little pink, and he probably doesn’t have a clue what will happen if he does open his mouth, so he’s staying quiet for fear of blurting something out. Desmond might have wanted to go that route, too, given that he’s now realizing the way he put that could be kinda flirty, but he can’t undo it now. He is absolutely cool with flirting with a handsome guy, and it’s not like he doesn’t like Shaun, it’s just that, well, he’d really wanted to wait until he’d given Shaun a better idea of what he was getting into.
Rukh shifts a little on his shoulder. Given the number of Templars that have ravens in the area, it makes sense that the barista isn’t freaking out, and Rukh’s behaving himself, but he’s definitely eyeing all the pastries with a hungry eye. Shaun sighs and then adds a bowl of fruit to go.
Shaun’s actually quiet through most of the ordering process, though he does glare Desmond out of paying (which, oh, yeah). “Thanks. I guess I can’t anyway; they never gave my bag back.”
“I’ll ensure it’s returned to you,” Shaun promises shortly. At least Desmond’s bugged him in the middle of work enough to recognize that he’s distracted because he’s thinking, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Desmond doing something wrong. Shaun waits semi-patiently for them to brew a new pot (it’s going a lot faster, even with the loose leaf stuff, but then, with the British obsession maybe they’d invented special equipment or something). The fact that caffeine is in sight probably helps. Caffeine, and a little food in the shape of a muffin. He’d been fast enough choosing his order it’s probably one of his regular options and he hadn’t even had to think about it. “Then...your Agent. The girl, Alice. They weren’t meant to aid you?”
“I don’t think Nate was supposed to help as much as he did, no, and Alice wasn’t even supposed to be out in the first place. I’m...hoping she’s fine. She’s smart and fast on her feet but she’s still a kid, you know? Even if she’s not human.” He’s trying not to worry about it too much, but it is bugging him.
Shaun’s scowl only deepens. Usually he would’ve been giving a speech about how the world is unfair and no one should expect any different, even if he doesn’t exactly live by that creed. He’s either really, really feeling bad about the Templars doing their thing or he’s trying to behave and not hurt Desmond’s feelings (which is...sort of appreciated, in that Other Shaun did rub him the wrong way at first, but also Desmond kind of misses it because it’s funny and Shaun shouldn’t feel like he has to shrink himself to fit anything for Desmond). Or both. “I...can run it by a friend of mine in the Dragon. Though I can’t guarantee he’ll be able to answer.”
It’s maybe a stretch thinking that all historians know each other, but Desmond has a hunch anyway. “Jae-Hoon?” he asks, and Shaun takes the excuse of his tea being ready to go grab that and not look directly at Desmond. He takes a long, appreciative sip, relaxing all at once.
“Try not to disturb him further,” Shaun suggests, which is honestly confusing as hell.
“I just told him it didn’t have to be forever.” What’s so awful about that?
Shaun sighs rather deeply, but waits until Desmond gets his own coffee and donut. Maybe the whole place isn’t staffed just with Templars and Templar sympathizers—or, maybe, he realizes belatedly after a little of his own coffee as he waves to the barista and they leave, Shaun doesn’t trust the Templars that he works for anymore. For some reason.
“It can be rather easy,” he starts, actually raising his voice a little as they start to walk toward the park; Desmond’s confused as to why they’d bothered to leave until he realizes Shaun is trying to drown the puppet guy out, at least as they pass, “...to get used to the way things are, even if you don’t like them. For example, if you tell yourself it’s all you’ll ever deserve. Change can, in such cases, be frightening. It’s bad now, but how much worse will it get? How will you be able to deal with everything once you are not able to predict it and avoid the worst?” He pauses and then adds dryly, “But, I suspect, you’re familiar with this thought process yourself.”
It—yeah. “When I was deciding on whether or not to leave, yeah. Though my life got better after that. I guess that’s not always true, though.” He swallows. He really hadn’t planned on going here, but it feels like he has to, now. Because Shaun’s being pretty obvious. It probably has to do with the Illuminati mind-control thing. “What about you?”
Shaun, surprisingly, doesn’t hesitate for a second. “If it had been of my own volition, I probably would feel better about it. That being said, please at least ensure you’re ready before you act.”
“Well, yeah. That’s just common sense.” And Assassin training. “I mean, I wouldn’t have done anything about any of this yet,” he waves the hand holding the donut vaguely toward Templar Hall, “...if not for Helwing forcing it.”
“Hey, Des, Shaun! Over here!” Rebecca’s waving and she looks really casual about it from the picnic bench she’s commandeered, but she’s definitely looking at the two of them to try to figure out if her plan worked.
The teenager and the drunk ‘knight’ are still sitting on the stage. At least it looks like he’s still keeping a respectful distance and isn’t getting handsy. That’s good. Shaun kinda knows that Desmond’s an Assassin, but it’s one thing to know and another to see it in person, and anyway Desmond’s hungry. Speaking of, he might as well take a bite of the donut. Pretty good.
“You were...planning on that,” Shaun whispers. He looks a little disturbed anyway, which hurts, but. In a way, wasn’t this part of what Desmond wanted? For Shaun to get a better idea of what he was dealing with?
Desmond finishes chewing and swallows, mostly because he’s already upset Shaun enough. “I mean, less planning and more figuring it was just a matter of time, after Javier came out of the gate swinging. Helwing thought he was untouchable, and he was just going to keep trying to find ways to shut you guys down once he’d decided you’d gone too far. He probably would’ve summoned, I don’t know, a wraith if he thought he could get away with it.”
Interestingly, the Morninglight tent is still up, but nobody’s actually standing there. They left the laptop. There’s probably all kinds of really interesting stuff on there, and Rebecca’s probably good enough to access most if not all of it, but that also reads very much like a trap of some kind and they’re all already tired. If they wait, they might miss this chance, but Desmond’s also pretty sure it won’t be the last one. He doesn’t expect the Morninglight to stop being a creepy cult anytime soon.
“Hey, Rebecca. Do you think you would mind dog-sitting?” As much as Katherine likes Desmond, hanging out with him when he’s getting into fights probably isn’t great for her. He does have to go back to Solomon Island and actually get her, but he does need a plan for later. And she’d probably be more comfortable when he leaves if she’s gotten used to Rebecca before then.
“I love dogs. What kind?” That’s about what he’d expected. He kind of expects Shaun to step in and let Rebecca know that he knows, but he doesn’t, and when he glances over he finds that Shaun’s actually pouting. He quickly hides his expression in another sip of tea, though.
“You’d probably know better than me,” Desmond decides to respond, not quite sure what’s going on there. From the way Rukh pokes his ear, he thinks Desmond’s supposed to know and is just being dense again.
She looks a little guilty, but not as surprised as Shaun. “A Doberman, yeah. Though I think Shaun and Chelsea wouldn’t mind helping out too.”
“It’d be good training for having a familiar of my own,” Chelsea agrees brightly, nibbling with uncertainty on a scone. She doesn’t have the same hesitation for the drink marked ‘tea’ in her hand, though. He’d actually gotten his point through, nice.
Shaun’s response is stiff, careful dignity. “I think I’ve done a fine job with Rukh here.” As if to demonstrate, he opens the little takeout bag with the fruit, and Rukh hops over, taking a few pointed beakfuls before glancing back at Desmond pointedly. Now that Desmond’s thinking about it, he would be the kind of guy to do a ton of research on what ravens can eat and stuff, especially since he’s kinda Desmond’s. Which actually kind of indicates that maybe the care package had been Shaun’s idea.
“Oh, uh. You didn’t strike me as a dog person, so I wasn’t sure you’d want to.” It’s a lame excuse and he knows it, but he hadn’t really wanted to push Shaun into anything he didn’t want to do, either.
At least he’s not pouting anymore. He’s still scowling a little, but that’s just default Shaun. “I wouldn’t want a child or pet of my own, but temporary acquisition isn’t so bad.”
That is one of the weirder ways Shaun could possibly have put that, but fair enough. If anything, Rebecca and Chelsea look like they read more out of that than Desmond did; Rebecca looks a little smug and isn’t trying to hide it very much, and Chelsea looks like some kind of realization is dawning on her.
“Oh. Good.” God, what is he doing?
Shaun takes a deep breath, maybe to handle the irritation, and then asks, “...Anything you want to share about this dog in particular?”
That’d be helpful, yeah. “She’s really shy. And she’s attached, but...she doesn’t like fighting, and I don’t want to keep forcing her to deal with that.”
Shaun decides that Rukh is really interesting and stops looking at Desmond. “So you’re planning on returning to the field at some point, then?”
“Not immediately, but...yeah. I think so.” Though it’s kind of nice that Shaun actually believes that some of this stuff is his choice, now.
“Come on, this is supposed to be a celebration! Desmond, we didn’t get to see everything, and you lived through something epic, so you’ve gotta have stories!” Chelsea hesitates to join in at first, but once she realizes even Shaun is listening she perks up a bit, getting more confident. Rukh personally puffs out his little feather-mane any time he gets mentioned, and when they get to the part he’d played taking down the Park he actually struts around in a circle on the picnic bench (and gets some pets from all of them) before returning to his fruit.
Shaun does mutter random stuff to himself without meeting any of their eyes about the ‘king and the land’ and it sounds like he’s impressed that Desmond actually managed to venture into his realm and kill him once they finish the discussion of the Park, but he doesn’t say that straight out. It’s only Rebecca and Chelsea who respond to, say, the massacred hippies or the government or Orochi or even Tyler and the trailer park (if anything, he just gets quieter after Desmond confirms that Tyler didn’t make it, exactly, even though whatever was preventing him from talking about John apparently is stopping him from talking about Tyler, too). He doesn’t actually speak up until Desmond tells him he’d killed Loki.
“Are you sure? He is, after all, Loki, one of the original tricksters. It’s hard to be sure about anything.”
Chelsea just looks like she’s going to pick a fight, like she wanted to with Lydia. She doesn’t, but she does clench her fists and eat more aggressively.
Desmond’s first instinct is not to share. It’s weird, it’s hard to describe, and he’s not really good with sharing. But he has to start somewhere, right? And maybe they can actually work out how any of this works. “After I kill—not the Draug or zombies, but…” And there’s an interesting point he hadn’t thought about before. “...people that used to be human, or are close enough, like Loki. They get, I dunno, last words.”
Shaun takes a deep breath, otherwise completely still. Desmond usually wouldn’t recognize that, but it’s the kind of way targets sometimes freeze. He’s scared. Of Desmond, fuck. And then he speaks.
Desmond blinks. “Huh?” He sounds so calm, but Desmond had been too busy thinking about how he’d fucked this up to actually hear him.
Shaun continues to be calm when he repeats himself. Not irritated that he has to do it. “Could that be replicated, if the target was, say, skilled in illusion magic?”
“I think I’d feel it.” It wouldn’t feel true to the Calculations, probably, but—if that was a thing here, then the god pretending to be Al Mualim might actually know what it was. “But then he also claimed to be the guy that started the cult. And I don’t think he was just trying to mess with me during the fight.”
Shaun actually smiles. It’s small, but it’s real, and Desmond gets distracted for an entirely different reason, though he’s also feeling a little whiplash. “I shan’t hold it against you if you don’t hold the Crusades against us. I’ll grant you Helwing, though.”
He laughs, and Shaun starts primly on his muffin, looking pleased. Desmond had been right, he was the kind of asshole to be very, very concerned about eating carefully and not making a mess even when they’re in the middle of a park and he’s in his pajamas. Funny how that’s endearing. “Deal.”
Now that he’s said that, though, it’s easier to talk about the end, about what happened after Loki. They’re both worried about Cassie, though they’re trying to tamp it down to not worry him too much about her, and it turns out he can actually talk about where he ended up after the fight. Which, weirdly enough, might mean that it’s not just Filth related. He kinda skims over the recruitment speech, mostly because he doesn’t want to discuss the specifics, but it’s a relief that he can even say anything to begin with.
He’s getting to the end when Shaun leans forward, tea actually forgotten, as intense as he sometimes gets. “Did you say a wall of stars?”
“...Yeah. I mean, not exactly a wall, since I could walk through it, but...what?” Shaun actually sounds like he recognizes it.
Apparently that makes him self-conscious though. “No, sorry. I should do this later. That just sounds familiar.”
“Honestly, it looked kinda like the floating boxes in the nightclub?” Not that he’d been in a state of mind to make the connection when he’d been so focused on finding a way out. And it’s been a while since he’d been back in London, anyway.
“Well.” Shaun looks a little shocked and breathless and Desmond gets a little distracted—so sue him, he’s only human.
Rebecca’s still able to prompt him, though, and she does. “What’s up, Shaun?”
“I’d have to re-read the descriptions, but I think Desmond actually might have found one of the Gaia Engines.” He turns to Desmond, who instantly recognizes the signs of him on the verge of one of his lectures. It’s adorable. “The story goes that they’re essentially what keeps this world running, the pillars of reality. Given the effect on Agartha—no doubt you’ve seen the Filth withering some of the lower branches—they might be in trouble. It’s said that all entrances to such places were lost, but might exist in locations such as Atlantis or Shambala—one of the reasons the Big Three and even your average nation fought and are still fighting over those esoteric locations we do know. I’d have to re-read my books but I do recall the story of one such expedition to be quite the tale. I wasn’t aware of an entrance in Solomon Island, and while that might explain the Illuminati’s interest in the place, it’s far more likely that such was the doing of the sword. Certain powerful artifacts might be able to serve as temporary keys to a Gaia Engine.”
Well, that would explain why it felt so much like the Grey. Technically, it probably sort of was.
Desmond nods. “From the feel of the place, I think you’re right.” Shaun sits a little straighter, remembering his tea again. “So the Filth being there is...really bad, huh.”
Rebecca actually is the one to respond. “Yeah, but we’d have to look into it to figure out cause and effect. It might just be reflecting Agartha.”
“If you weren’t talking about that...what were you talking about?” Chelsea looks a little confused and hurt when Rebecca elbows her.
Desmond grins. That’s at least more fun. “Shaun was telling me about his desk.”
Shaun bristles, but pets a well-fed Rukh again, teasing the juice out of some of the mane-feathers, rather than look at any of them. “The whole story could be a load of bollocks, of course.”
He’s just itching to finish bragging about his desk, but he actively stops himself. Even though Desmond does actually want to hear this. “But?”
Shaun does often love an audience. “But the age of the desk is right—I took it to a colleague. Or rather, the colleague to the desk, as it were, and they took a small sample for testing. Not just the wood, of course, but the construction as well. Even turned up right according to a few spells—though of course that could be faked, just like everything else. We will probably never know the truth for sure, but it’s an interesting story, at any rate, and just might be true. There is a secret compartment, big enough for Rebecca’s theory that it’s to hide illicit printing plates to be correct, but I doubt that. If you’re printing illicit materials, you’ll probably have a good deal more you need to conceal than just the plates, and it wouldn’t do to just hide some of the evidence and leave all the pamphlets or papers or whatever out and about in case of a sudden police raid, would it?”
“It’d be easy enough to just burn everything else,” Rebecca points out. “Des, you wanna come see the housewarming stuff we grabbed for your apartment?”
That is really sweet, and he’s pretty sure Chelsea at least helped, because she looks as proud as everyone else at this point. But one last errand occurs to him, and it’s not like the post office isn’t right there.
“Hang on. I need to grab a postcard.” He’s thinking of writing something on it like ‘hey asshole I saved the world’, maybe with a ‘you’re welcome’ at the end. Nobody who knows the author would even be shocked at a message like that.
Oh hey, London map. And the puppet guy is actually visible in one of the panorama shots, as well as the coffee shop. https://tsw-geo.theravens.cz/london-map/
It’s actually a kettle, not a pot. Desmond would make a joke about it if it’d actually come up. Shaun won’t even get it to stick if/when it comes up, partly because Desmond can occasionally be the guy pulling pigtails and thinks it’s harmless enough that bugging Shaun with it would be hilarious.
Shaun blurting out “I’ve been weird about watching you”
Desmond: “I’m kinda into that though”
Shaun (still wearing his pyjamas, as a reminder): almost walks into a door
at least the innuendo was only in his head
Desmond also being casually ableist (using lame because of course he would) because this man cannot stop being a disaster for five minutes I swear—
Yes I am prone to the occasional pun title why do you ask
Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond gets to finally relax and breathe and hang out with Shaun and Rebecca and Chelsea. And maybe accidentally flirt with Shaun while he's at it.
Word Count: 4255
Rating: Teen
Rebecca’s plots aren’t quite done, it seems like. It looks like Chelsea wants to talk to Desmond more, but she’s out of it enough (probably from being held in a cell; didn’t she mention something about not sleeping anymore?) to not immediately slip out of the conversation Rebecca draws her into. Desmond only realizes as they pull ahead exactly what she’s planning, though—now it’s just him and Shaun. It’s probably not going to work out the way she thinks, but he’s been wanting to talk to Shaun all this time, and Shaun definitely wants to talk, too, even if he’s not making the first move himself. He just keeps sneaking glances at Desmond, like he’s trying to reassure himself Desmond’s actually here and in one piece. “So, where’s your desk from?”
Shaun has never looked more shocked. That Desmond’s seen him, anyway. Shocked and a little scandalized. “This is the first time we’ve been able to talk in quite some time, we’ve barely escaped a trial and possible execution, and that’s what you want to ask me?”
“Yeah.” Desmond’s grinning. It splits his lip again, but he’s barely feeling it, at this point. He could just heal it, but...it doesn’t hurt that the blood immediately draws Shaun’s eyes and he half looks like he wants to try to treat it (however you’d treat a wound on the lip if you’re not using magic; it’s not like Desmond actually knew and he’s still got the scar) and half like he just wants to go for a kiss. “I figured, it looks old and like it’s got a lot of history and I bet Shaun knows all of it.”
“Well, I—” Shaun laughs. It’s probably nerves, but he’s also starting to look ridiculously pleased. “I can’t be sure, of course. I’d say it’s another case of history being lost to the ages, but that would indicate records of some kind were made in the first place. Not recommended, if you’re trying to be discreet or do anything against the law. But I won it, at an antiques fair, and relocated it once I’d been recruited from teaching.” He quickly gets into it, after the initial bout of nerves. “What I was told was that it had been used in the main office of an untaxed newspaper office. For non-historians like you, that means an illicit newspaper. The crown levied a tax because it didn’t quite like what people did with the ability to print things that were not so complimentary about the royals. Now, Brits being who we are, we love a good grumble, and tend to be contrary bastards, so a good number of newspapers just sprung up in defiance. What they lacked in professional knowledge they made up in enthusiasm. And then, of course, those royals hadn’t taken into account the Streisand effect, mostly because the term hadn’t been coined until 2003. Attempting to conceal information, like telling people ‘there’s nothing to see at Area 51, move along’, even if those words are true, just happens to make people more curious and convinced there’s something there to see.”
Hey, a term he’s heard recently, so he’s not completely lost. “They’re actually teaching that Streisand effect thing to the Illuminati Academy students.”
“Probably in their training to try to suppress the truth, I’ll bet. Montag’s been headmaster for quite some time, and not simply because of his survival instincts.” He says that, but he’s happy his friend’s still alive, even if he’s doing a better job hiding it now that he’s woken up a bit. But then he hesitates, frowning harder when Desmond turns to look at him, concerned. “In the interests of full disclosure, you should know we were monitoring you.”
Desmond laughs. “What, Rebecca’s spy program she installed on my phone? Shaun, that’s not news.”
Shaun looks torn between shock and outrage. “I—she assured me she was very discreet,” he begins, getting sidetracked with pretty quickly. “You shouldn’t just...accept invasions into your privacy like that!”
“I won’t say anything stupid like ‘I have nothing to hide’, but I trust both of you.” He’s tempted to go into the record store as they pass and he hears just a snatch of the music from inside, but he still doesn’t have a record player and while he’s gone without food before, it’s not like he wants to. Besides, Shaun might just faceplant on the street if he doesn’t get his tea soon. “Shaun, if I’d wanted it off my phone, it would’ve been gone.”
He doesn’t have to explain that he’d be using the Calculations to do it. He knows some of the basics, and both Shaun and Rebecca had taught him a few things when they’d actually had a little time when he wasn’t in the Animus, but that didn’t make him an expert or anything.
Shaun seems to be having trouble with the whole concept. And sure, actually mentioning this might blow his cover, but on the other hand they’ve been writing off absolutely everything else as just ‘weird Dragon with cult background’, why not this? And, if he thinks about it, if they have surveillance, they probably know or suspect some of this already. They’re nearly to the coffee shop. The puppet guy is still there, ranting about something else, and Desmond does his best to ignore the fact that the man even exists just in case he says something else that sets him off. Again. He’d hate to ruin this. “You didn’t have any reason to help me, but you did. You’ve both been more helpful than the people I actually am supposed to be working for already; hell, Orochi is more helpful and they’re complete assholes. I figured it’s quicker to have you help me out with some of the puzzles, plus you have my back and can warn someone if I get in over my head. You know I’m competent, but part of that is knowing my limits, and it makes me feel better knowing you’re both there.” He grabs the door for Shaun, who doesn’t thank him. Rebecca does, and she elbows Shaun on the way out.
“We’ll meet you in the park,” she announces brightly and drags Chelsea off, again.
The thing Rebecca didn’t get to see is, Shaun isn’t being rude. He’s turning a little pink, and he probably doesn’t have a clue what will happen if he does open his mouth, so he’s staying quiet for fear of blurting something out. Desmond might have wanted to go that route, too, given that he’s now realizing the way he put that could be kinda flirty, but he can’t undo it now. He is absolutely cool with flirting with a handsome guy, and it’s not like he doesn’t like Shaun, it’s just that, well, he’d really wanted to wait until he’d given Shaun a better idea of what he was getting into.
Rukh shifts a little on his shoulder. Given the number of Templars that have ravens in the area, it makes sense that the barista isn’t freaking out, and Rukh’s behaving himself, but he’s definitely eyeing all the pastries with a hungry eye. Shaun sighs and then adds a bowl of fruit to go.
Shaun’s actually quiet through most of the ordering process, though he does glare Desmond out of paying (which, oh, yeah). “Thanks. I guess I can’t anyway; they never gave my bag back.”
“I’ll ensure it’s returned to you,” Shaun promises shortly. At least Desmond’s bugged him in the middle of work enough to recognize that he’s distracted because he’s thinking, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Desmond doing something wrong. Shaun waits semi-patiently for them to brew a new pot (it’s going a lot faster, even with the loose leaf stuff, but then, with the British obsession maybe they’d invented special equipment or something). The fact that caffeine is in sight probably helps. Caffeine, and a little food in the shape of a muffin. He’d been fast enough choosing his order it’s probably one of his regular options and he hadn’t even had to think about it. “Then...your Agent. The girl, Alice. They weren’t meant to aid you?”
“I don’t think Nate was supposed to help as much as he did, no, and Alice wasn’t even supposed to be out in the first place. I’m...hoping she’s fine. She’s smart and fast on her feet but she’s still a kid, you know? Even if she’s not human.” He’s trying not to worry about it too much, but it is bugging him.
Shaun’s scowl only deepens. Usually he would’ve been giving a speech about how the world is unfair and no one should expect any different, even if he doesn’t exactly live by that creed. He’s either really, really feeling bad about the Templars doing their thing or he’s trying to behave and not hurt Desmond’s feelings (which is...sort of appreciated, in that Other Shaun did rub him the wrong way at first, but also Desmond kind of misses it because it’s funny and Shaun shouldn’t feel like he has to shrink himself to fit anything for Desmond). Or both. “I...can run it by a friend of mine in the Dragon. Though I can’t guarantee he’ll be able to answer.”
It’s maybe a stretch thinking that all historians know each other, but Desmond has a hunch anyway. “Jae-Hoon?” he asks, and Shaun takes the excuse of his tea being ready to go grab that and not look directly at Desmond. He takes a long, appreciative sip, relaxing all at once.
“Try not to disturb him further,” Shaun suggests, which is honestly confusing as hell.
“I just told him it didn’t have to be forever.” What’s so awful about that?
Shaun sighs rather deeply, but waits until Desmond gets his own coffee and donut. Maybe the whole place isn’t staffed just with Templars and Templar sympathizers—or, maybe, he realizes belatedly after a little of his own coffee as he waves to the barista and they leave, Shaun doesn’t trust the Templars that he works for anymore. For some reason.
“It can be rather easy,” he starts, actually raising his voice a little as they start to walk toward the park; Desmond’s confused as to why they’d bothered to leave until he realizes Shaun is trying to drown the puppet guy out, at least as they pass, “...to get used to the way things are, even if you don’t like them. For example, if you tell yourself it’s all you’ll ever deserve. Change can, in such cases, be frightening. It’s bad now, but how much worse will it get? How will you be able to deal with everything once you are not able to predict it and avoid the worst?” He pauses and then adds dryly, “But, I suspect, you’re familiar with this thought process yourself.”
It—yeah. “When I was deciding on whether or not to leave, yeah. Though my life got better after that. I guess that’s not always true, though.” He swallows. He really hadn’t planned on going here, but it feels like he has to, now. Because Shaun’s being pretty obvious. It probably has to do with the Illuminati mind-control thing. “What about you?”
Shaun, surprisingly, doesn’t hesitate for a second. “If it had been of my own volition, I probably would feel better about it. That being said, please at least ensure you’re ready before you act.”
“Well, yeah. That’s just common sense.” And Assassin training. “I mean, I wouldn’t have done anything about any of this yet,” he waves the hand holding the donut vaguely toward Templar Hall, “...if not for Helwing forcing it.”
“Hey, Des, Shaun! Over here!” Rebecca’s waving and she looks really casual about it from the picnic bench she’s commandeered, but she’s definitely looking at the two of them to try to figure out if her plan worked.
The teenager and the drunk ‘knight’ are still sitting on the stage. At least it looks like he’s still keeping a respectful distance and isn’t getting handsy. That’s good. Shaun kinda knows that Desmond’s an Assassin, but it’s one thing to know and another to see it in person, and anyway Desmond’s hungry. Speaking of, he might as well take a bite of the donut. Pretty good.
“You were...planning on that,” Shaun whispers. He looks a little disturbed anyway, which hurts, but. In a way, wasn’t this part of what Desmond wanted? For Shaun to get a better idea of what he was dealing with?
Desmond finishes chewing and swallows, mostly because he’s already upset Shaun enough. “I mean, less planning and more figuring it was just a matter of time, after Javier came out of the gate swinging. Helwing thought he was untouchable, and he was just going to keep trying to find ways to shut you guys down once he’d decided you’d gone too far. He probably would’ve summoned, I don’t know, a wraith if he thought he could get away with it.”
Interestingly, the Morninglight tent is still up, but nobody’s actually standing there. They left the laptop. There’s probably all kinds of really interesting stuff on there, and Rebecca’s probably good enough to access most if not all of it, but that also reads very much like a trap of some kind and they’re all already tired. If they wait, they might miss this chance, but Desmond’s also pretty sure it won’t be the last one. He doesn’t expect the Morninglight to stop being a creepy cult anytime soon.
“Hey, Rebecca. Do you think you would mind dog-sitting?” As much as Katherine likes Desmond, hanging out with him when he’s getting into fights probably isn’t great for her. He does have to go back to Solomon Island and actually get her, but he does need a plan for later. And she’d probably be more comfortable when he leaves if she’s gotten used to Rebecca before then.
“I love dogs. What kind?” That’s about what he’d expected. He kind of expects Shaun to step in and let Rebecca know that he knows, but he doesn’t, and when he glances over he finds that Shaun’s actually pouting. He quickly hides his expression in another sip of tea, though.
“You’d probably know better than me,” Desmond decides to respond, not quite sure what’s going on there. From the way Rukh pokes his ear, he thinks Desmond’s supposed to know and is just being dense again.
She looks a little guilty, but not as surprised as Shaun. “A Doberman, yeah. Though I think Shaun and Chelsea wouldn’t mind helping out too.”
“It’d be good training for having a familiar of my own,” Chelsea agrees brightly, nibbling with uncertainty on a scone. She doesn’t have the same hesitation for the drink marked ‘tea’ in her hand, though. He’d actually gotten his point through, nice.
Shaun’s response is stiff, careful dignity. “I think I’ve done a fine job with Rukh here.” As if to demonstrate, he opens the little takeout bag with the fruit, and Rukh hops over, taking a few pointed beakfuls before glancing back at Desmond pointedly. Now that Desmond’s thinking about it, he would be the kind of guy to do a ton of research on what ravens can eat and stuff, especially since he’s kinda Desmond’s. Which actually kind of indicates that maybe the care package had been Shaun’s idea.
“Oh, uh. You didn’t strike me as a dog person, so I wasn’t sure you’d want to.” It’s a lame excuse and he knows it, but he hadn’t really wanted to push Shaun into anything he didn’t want to do, either.
At least he’s not pouting anymore. He’s still scowling a little, but that’s just default Shaun. “I wouldn’t want a child or pet of my own, but temporary acquisition isn’t so bad.”
That is one of the weirder ways Shaun could possibly have put that, but fair enough. If anything, Rebecca and Chelsea look like they read more out of that than Desmond did; Rebecca looks a little smug and isn’t trying to hide it very much, and Chelsea looks like some kind of realization is dawning on her.
“Oh. Good.” God, what is he doing?
Shaun takes a deep breath, maybe to handle the irritation, and then asks, “...Anything you want to share about this dog in particular?”
That’d be helpful, yeah. “She’s really shy. And she’s attached, but...she doesn’t like fighting, and I don’t want to keep forcing her to deal with that.”
Shaun decides that Rukh is really interesting and stops looking at Desmond. “So you’re planning on returning to the field at some point, then?”
“Not immediately, but...yeah. I think so.” Though it’s kind of nice that Shaun actually believes that some of this stuff is his choice, now.
“Come on, this is supposed to be a celebration! Desmond, we didn’t get to see everything, and you lived through something epic, so you’ve gotta have stories!” Chelsea hesitates to join in at first, but once she realizes even Shaun is listening she perks up a bit, getting more confident. Rukh personally puffs out his little feather-mane any time he gets mentioned, and when they get to the part he’d played taking down the Park he actually struts around in a circle on the picnic bench (and gets some pets from all of them) before returning to his fruit.
Shaun does mutter random stuff to himself without meeting any of their eyes about the ‘king and the land’ and it sounds like he’s impressed that Desmond actually managed to venture into his realm and kill him once they finish the discussion of the Park, but he doesn’t say that straight out. It’s only Rebecca and Chelsea who respond to, say, the massacred hippies or the government or Orochi or even Tyler and the trailer park (if anything, he just gets quieter after Desmond confirms that Tyler didn’t make it, exactly, even though whatever was preventing him from talking about John apparently is stopping him from talking about Tyler, too). He doesn’t actually speak up until Desmond tells him he’d killed Loki.
“Are you sure? He is, after all, Loki, one of the original tricksters. It’s hard to be sure about anything.”
Chelsea just looks like she’s going to pick a fight, like she wanted to with Lydia. She doesn’t, but she does clench her fists and eat more aggressively.
Desmond’s first instinct is not to share. It’s weird, it’s hard to describe, and he’s not really good with sharing. But he has to start somewhere, right? And maybe they can actually work out how any of this works. “After I kill—not the Draug or zombies, but…” And there’s an interesting point he hadn’t thought about before. “...people that used to be human, or are close enough, like Loki. They get, I dunno, last words.”
Shaun takes a deep breath, otherwise completely still. Desmond usually wouldn’t recognize that, but it’s the kind of way targets sometimes freeze. He’s scared. Of Desmond, fuck. And then he speaks.
Desmond blinks. “Huh?” He sounds so calm, but Desmond had been too busy thinking about how he’d fucked this up to actually hear him.
Shaun continues to be calm when he repeats himself. Not irritated that he has to do it. “Could that be replicated, if the target was, say, skilled in illusion magic?”
“I think I’d feel it.” It wouldn’t feel true to the Calculations, probably, but—if that was a thing here, then the god pretending to be Al Mualim might actually know what it was. “But then he also claimed to be the guy that started the cult. And I don’t think he was just trying to mess with me during the fight.”
Shaun actually smiles. It’s small, but it’s real, and Desmond gets distracted for an entirely different reason, though he’s also feeling a little whiplash. “I shan’t hold it against you if you don’t hold the Crusades against us. I’ll grant you Helwing, though.”
He laughs, and Shaun starts primly on his muffin, looking pleased. Desmond had been right, he was the kind of asshole to be very, very concerned about eating carefully and not making a mess even when they’re in the middle of a park and he’s in his pajamas. Funny how that’s endearing. “Deal.”
Now that he’s said that, though, it’s easier to talk about the end, about what happened after Loki. They’re both worried about Cassie, though they’re trying to tamp it down to not worry him too much about her, and it turns out he can actually talk about where he ended up after the fight. Which, weirdly enough, might mean that it’s not just Filth related. He kinda skims over the recruitment speech, mostly because he doesn’t want to discuss the specifics, but it’s a relief that he can even say anything to begin with.
He’s getting to the end when Shaun leans forward, tea actually forgotten, as intense as he sometimes gets. “Did you say a wall of stars?”
“...Yeah. I mean, not exactly a wall, since I could walk through it, but...what?” Shaun actually sounds like he recognizes it.
Apparently that makes him self-conscious though. “No, sorry. I should do this later. That just sounds familiar.”
“Honestly, it looked kinda like the floating boxes in the nightclub?” Not that he’d been in a state of mind to make the connection when he’d been so focused on finding a way out. And it’s been a while since he’d been back in London, anyway.
“Well.” Shaun looks a little shocked and breathless and Desmond gets a little distracted—so sue him, he’s only human.
Rebecca’s still able to prompt him, though, and she does. “What’s up, Shaun?”
“I’d have to re-read the descriptions, but I think Desmond actually might have found one of the Gaia Engines.” He turns to Desmond, who instantly recognizes the signs of him on the verge of one of his lectures. It’s adorable. “The story goes that they’re essentially what keeps this world running, the pillars of reality. Given the effect on Agartha—no doubt you’ve seen the Filth withering some of the lower branches—they might be in trouble. It’s said that all entrances to such places were lost, but might exist in locations such as Atlantis or Shambala—one of the reasons the Big Three and even your average nation fought and are still fighting over those esoteric locations we do know. I’d have to re-read my books but I do recall the story of one such expedition to be quite the tale. I wasn’t aware of an entrance in Solomon Island, and while that might explain the Illuminati’s interest in the place, it’s far more likely that such was the doing of the sword. Certain powerful artifacts might be able to serve as temporary keys to a Gaia Engine.”
Well, that would explain why it felt so much like the Grey. Technically, it probably sort of was.
Desmond nods. “From the feel of the place, I think you’re right.” Shaun sits a little straighter, remembering his tea again. “So the Filth being there is...really bad, huh.”
Rebecca actually is the one to respond. “Yeah, but we’d have to look into it to figure out cause and effect. It might just be reflecting Agartha.”
“If you weren’t talking about that...what were you talking about?” Chelsea looks a little confused and hurt when Rebecca elbows her.
Desmond grins. That’s at least more fun. “Shaun was telling me about his desk.”
Shaun bristles, but pets a well-fed Rukh again, teasing the juice out of some of the mane-feathers, rather than look at any of them. “The whole story could be a load of bollocks, of course.”
He’s just itching to finish bragging about his desk, but he actively stops himself. Even though Desmond does actually want to hear this. “But?”
Shaun does often love an audience. “But the age of the desk is right—I took it to a colleague. Or rather, the colleague to the desk, as it were, and they took a small sample for testing. Not just the wood, of course, but the construction as well. Even turned up right according to a few spells—though of course that could be faked, just like everything else. We will probably never know the truth for sure, but it’s an interesting story, at any rate, and just might be true. There is a secret compartment, big enough for Rebecca’s theory that it’s to hide illicit printing plates to be correct, but I doubt that. If you’re printing illicit materials, you’ll probably have a good deal more you need to conceal than just the plates, and it wouldn’t do to just hide some of the evidence and leave all the pamphlets or papers or whatever out and about in case of a sudden police raid, would it?”
“It’d be easy enough to just burn everything else,” Rebecca points out. “Des, you wanna come see the housewarming stuff we grabbed for your apartment?”
That is really sweet, and he’s pretty sure Chelsea at least helped, because she looks as proud as everyone else at this point. But one last errand occurs to him, and it’s not like the post office isn’t right there.
“Hang on. I need to grab a postcard.” He’s thinking of writing something on it like ‘hey asshole I saved the world’, maybe with a ‘you’re welcome’ at the end. Nobody who knows the author would even be shocked at a message like that.
