madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2023-10-12 01:55 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2023-10-12 01:55 pm
Entry tags:
Obsessed with a Ghost
Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Shaun and Rebecca discuss their new acquaintance.
Word Count: 1746
Rating: Teen
“Someone has a crush,” Rebecca sing-songs, and that actually gets Shaun to glance up, because that conclusion takes some creative logic to reach.
“Excuse you. How the hell did you come to a ridiculous idea like that? You can’t fool me, Crane; you can’t leave this alone, either. The curiosity would eat you alive.” It’s not exactly his best comeback, but he’s still distracted, because who the hell is Desmond Miles? (He’d picked the surname up from the brief time he had the phone in his hands.) The man is practically a living ghost, as opposed to the sort that need a little encouragement to stay dead. It’s no wonder the Illuminati hadn’t managed to get their hands on him, and he is, at the very least, on the run from something—the surveillance footage said as much, what little had managed to capture him on it. He can check for cameras—unobtrusively—and tends to do what he can to remain out of the camera eye, all while making it look utterly natural and not like he’s doing it on purpose. If the odds of his repeated success in that regard weren’t statistically infinitesimal, then Shaun might be fooled.
No one is that aware of their surroundings without a reason. The man has no credit score, and a minimal internet presence. Paid in cash—and asking about him tends to result in closed ranks, which Shaun would find much more suspicious if the few things that they had mentioned weren’t contradictory, demonstrating that they hadn’t actually coordinated their stories.
If anything, it’s that Desmond is, well.
He inspires protectiveness, doesn’t he? They’re clear enough indication of that. Barely met the bloke and they’re already far more invested than they should be. Is it...is mind control possible? Everything else is, so he wouldn’t put it out of the realm of question, but you’d need spells for that, surely. Well, no, the Bee-touched don’t, but their powers are more flashy and showy—the Bees certainly seem to appreciate the concept of free will, even if they don’t bloody understand it.
“I’m a lesbian, Shaun. You’re the one that goes for guys,” she argues, and fake-shudders.
“Frankly, if you think he matches my taste, I’m insulted,” he responds dryly, because that’s not what’s going on here. He’s a mystery wrapped in a conspiracy, the kind Shaun hasn’t seen in years since Rebecca pulled him into the protection of the Templars before he could end up in the clutches of the Illuminati or worse, Orochi (at least she believes him on that front, but isn’t following, necessarily, on how far that corruption goes). It’s absolutely irresistible, the need to know more. How could he possibly leave this alone?
“Mmm, yeah,” she agrees, looking him over again thoughtfully as she brings her laptop over to where he’s sitting, cramming herself in on the couch where she can keep an eye on him. He feels a moment of vindication before it’s crushed, entirely. Because Rebecca is good at that. “You weren’t half this invested in your last boyfriend.”
She’s just mocking him, at this rate. Not an unusual situation, really, but irritating all the same. “People are less interesting than patterns. You might know this if you paid any attention to anything in my life that wasn’t gossip-worthy.” He pauses and then adds under his breath, “And in any case, he’s a Dragon.”
He knows he’s made a mistake when she smiles sweetly at him. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” And worse, she’s right, because he wouldn’t start offering excuses like that unless he was at least slightly smitten, damn it all.
“You’re slightly mangling your Shakespeare. Although I suppose your American education is largely to blame.” He’s all off kilter, when was the last time he slept, and exactly how long has this Desmond been distracting him from his real work? The situation is fascinating and unnerving and upon hearing the full story Sonnac had actually allowed them to divide their research support for this.
She sighs, setting aside her precious laptop gently. “All right, you want data, let’s talk data. We had the guy right in front of us. Can’t get much closer than that.”
He...doesn’t wish to, because among other things actually remembering the event would require things like how drunk he’d been, how much of a fool he’d made of himself, and Desmond drawing attention to the scar on his lips, which had easily derailed to—
Well. They weren’t R-rated fantasies, which probably conversely indicates exactly how buggered Shaun is, because a simple one-night stand with a Dragon might be acceptable. An all-too domestic situation that would lead to soft, sweet kisses in public, aware of the uneven flesh against his own, in the Horned God or elsewhere, gently leading the man around museums as they hold hands and acting like a semi-pompous tour guide? That is not permissible, thank you, no matter how Shaun’s traitorous heart takes the fact that Miles wasn’t put off by Shaun’s harsh words, that he’d even smiled at him like Shaun being cruel is endearing somehow. The man must have crossed wires, with that reaction. Most flee the room, sometimes the continent, to escape his tirades. Rebecca proves the assertion that to react otherwise is far from ‘normal’ and says things, pointed things, about the one reacting.
But, as usual, and how he hates how smug she is about it, Rebecca is a genius and is not incorrect about the situation. He’d been overlooking that, distancing himself from that set of data because he didn’t want to think about any of it.
And now that he is...hmm. She starts, though.
“Either he knew us, or people rather like us.” They’re both personalities, difficult for others to adapt, and yet somehow none of it bothered him. “He wasn’t sure we'd react the way he wanted us to, like he’d jacked into our brains or something, and he was a little anxious about how we’d react, but he didn’t act like it was the first time we've met.” For a statement like that to be the first conversation they’ve had about this, she had to have noticed and been thinking about it since. And there’s no lingering magic; they’ve been checked.
“Visions are fairly common for Bee-touched,” he reminds her, because he had to have known the Illuminati were coming somehow, and it would explain everything neatly. “And if he’s telling the truth about the Dragon being even more mysterious than usual, he has to be relying on something for direction.”
“He wasn’t lying,” Rebecca corrects quickly. “He wasn’t telling the whole truth, either, but he wasn’t lying.”
“Being very careful about his word choice, yes.” Though Shaun had thought that was more to do with persuading them to help. Rebecca was the one with a better idea of how to deal with people. “Do you think he’s being used as a spy?” He knows what he’d say, but he’s curious about her assessment.
“Oh, absolutely, though knowing the Dragon he’s also possibly an olive branch.” He stares at her. “Dragons don’t do treaties like anyone else, and we might not be experts at reading the patterns like them, but we’re analysts. We’ve both seen. Everything’s picked up. Artifacts, monsters, the bees. We’ve gone from good old fashioned magic to almost-immortals and whatever’s going on in Tokyo. Given their plans-in-plans, he’s probably here to spy a little, as much as he can, without even knowing it, serve as some weird form of cooperation, and probably be a mindgame to everybody. Including us. And here we’re falling for it.” She doesn’t sound at all sorry about it, though Shaun feels the sting of humiliation anyway.
“So, what, they’re hedging their bets?” he demands, and she shrugs.
“They’ve been oddly compliant with the new Council stuff. And really, since when do they not know more about what’s going on than literally everyone else?” Despite the fact that they like to keep their operatives in the dark—and yeah, no matter how much he’d griped at Miles, that’s entirely within their operating procedures.
Well. It’s not like they’d planned on taking him to Templar Hall.
“Do you believe him about the cult?” Rebecca asks. It’s more out of curiosity than anything, because they haven’t been able to pin down exactly which one he might have escaped from.
“Absolutely.” At her raised eyebrow, he sighs. “I am, as you might remember, a bit of the cult expert here?” It’s one of the reasons he was recruited out of his nice posh professor’s position, in fact, and something he rather takes pride in. “He doesn’t even know everything he’s keeping secret. He’s learned not to want to much, to ask too much, to tuck bits of himself away that wouldn’t be approved. Desperate for people to like him, a bit of a people-pleaser, but doesn’t actually expect anything to come from it, is shocked when it does. He’s been out of it for a few years, because he’s learned to mask, a bit, to blend in more and not appear like he’s completely ignorant of the world, but for someone who knows what they’re looking for...yeah. He grew up in a cult, one that, for all we know, knew a bit of the truth, but…” his face and tone darken. “That doesn’t excuse any of it. Five quid that scar isn’t the only one, and another five those are only the physical scars. And his insistence he doesn’t want to get us in trouble?”
“He had help getting out, and...it didn’t go well,” she guesses. Soft heart, has Crane, no wonder she identifies so much with the poor sod.
“At a guess, we remind him of his ill-fated friend or friends, plural, and more than just in our willingness to put our necks on the line.” A vision had told him where to look, where to find those who would be willing to help, only once they had, well, he’d panicked.
The tech scowls, raw determination in that look, and Shaun knows for a fact he is completely and utterly doomed, because the woman is his best friend and there’s no escaping Miles now. “This isn’t going to turn out the same.” They’d probably fight anyone who got in the way, too, even the entirety of Orochi.
“No, it isn’t,” he agrees, and turns back to his research. God, he hopes it’s Morninglight. He’s been itching to knock their teeth in since they moved in their ‘personality test’ routine in London. Arrogant pricks.
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Shaun and Rebecca discuss their new acquaintance.
Word Count: 1746
Rating: Teen
“Someone has a crush,” Rebecca sing-songs, and that actually gets Shaun to glance up, because that conclusion takes some creative logic to reach.
“Excuse you. How the hell did you come to a ridiculous idea like that? You can’t fool me, Crane; you can’t leave this alone, either. The curiosity would eat you alive.” It’s not exactly his best comeback, but he’s still distracted, because who the hell is Desmond Miles? (He’d picked the surname up from the brief time he had the phone in his hands.) The man is practically a living ghost, as opposed to the sort that need a little encouragement to stay dead. It’s no wonder the Illuminati hadn’t managed to get their hands on him, and he is, at the very least, on the run from something—the surveillance footage said as much, what little had managed to capture him on it. He can check for cameras—unobtrusively—and tends to do what he can to remain out of the camera eye, all while making it look utterly natural and not like he’s doing it on purpose. If the odds of his repeated success in that regard weren’t statistically infinitesimal, then Shaun might be fooled.
No one is that aware of their surroundings without a reason. The man has no credit score, and a minimal internet presence. Paid in cash—and asking about him tends to result in closed ranks, which Shaun would find much more suspicious if the few things that they had mentioned weren’t contradictory, demonstrating that they hadn’t actually coordinated their stories.
If anything, it’s that Desmond is, well.
He inspires protectiveness, doesn’t he? They’re clear enough indication of that. Barely met the bloke and they’re already far more invested than they should be. Is it...is mind control possible? Everything else is, so he wouldn’t put it out of the realm of question, but you’d need spells for that, surely. Well, no, the Bee-touched don’t, but their powers are more flashy and showy—the Bees certainly seem to appreciate the concept of free will, even if they don’t bloody understand it.
“I’m a lesbian, Shaun. You’re the one that goes for guys,” she argues, and fake-shudders.
“Frankly, if you think he matches my taste, I’m insulted,” he responds dryly, because that’s not what’s going on here. He’s a mystery wrapped in a conspiracy, the kind Shaun hasn’t seen in years since Rebecca pulled him into the protection of the Templars before he could end up in the clutches of the Illuminati or worse, Orochi (at least she believes him on that front, but isn’t following, necessarily, on how far that corruption goes). It’s absolutely irresistible, the need to know more. How could he possibly leave this alone?
“Mmm, yeah,” she agrees, looking him over again thoughtfully as she brings her laptop over to where he’s sitting, cramming herself in on the couch where she can keep an eye on him. He feels a moment of vindication before it’s crushed, entirely. Because Rebecca is good at that. “You weren’t half this invested in your last boyfriend.”
She’s just mocking him, at this rate. Not an unusual situation, really, but irritating all the same. “People are less interesting than patterns. You might know this if you paid any attention to anything in my life that wasn’t gossip-worthy.” He pauses and then adds under his breath, “And in any case, he’s a Dragon.”
He knows he’s made a mistake when she smiles sweetly at him. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” And worse, she’s right, because he wouldn’t start offering excuses like that unless he was at least slightly smitten, damn it all.
“You’re slightly mangling your Shakespeare. Although I suppose your American education is largely to blame.” He’s all off kilter, when was the last time he slept, and exactly how long has this Desmond been distracting him from his real work? The situation is fascinating and unnerving and upon hearing the full story Sonnac had actually allowed them to divide their research support for this.
She sighs, setting aside her precious laptop gently. “All right, you want data, let’s talk data. We had the guy right in front of us. Can’t get much closer than that.”
He...doesn’t wish to, because among other things actually remembering the event would require things like how drunk he’d been, how much of a fool he’d made of himself, and Desmond drawing attention to the scar on his lips, which had easily derailed to—
Well. They weren’t R-rated fantasies, which probably conversely indicates exactly how buggered Shaun is, because a simple one-night stand with a Dragon might be acceptable. An all-too domestic situation that would lead to soft, sweet kisses in public, aware of the uneven flesh against his own, in the Horned God or elsewhere, gently leading the man around museums as they hold hands and acting like a semi-pompous tour guide? That is not permissible, thank you, no matter how Shaun’s traitorous heart takes the fact that Miles wasn’t put off by Shaun’s harsh words, that he’d even smiled at him like Shaun being cruel is endearing somehow. The man must have crossed wires, with that reaction. Most flee the room, sometimes the continent, to escape his tirades. Rebecca proves the assertion that to react otherwise is far from ‘normal’ and says things, pointed things, about the one reacting.
But, as usual, and how he hates how smug she is about it, Rebecca is a genius and is not incorrect about the situation. He’d been overlooking that, distancing himself from that set of data because he didn’t want to think about any of it.
And now that he is...hmm. She starts, though.
“Either he knew us, or people rather like us.” They’re both personalities, difficult for others to adapt, and yet somehow none of it bothered him. “He wasn’t sure we'd react the way he wanted us to, like he’d jacked into our brains or something, and he was a little anxious about how we’d react, but he didn’t act like it was the first time we've met.” For a statement like that to be the first conversation they’ve had about this, she had to have noticed and been thinking about it since. And there’s no lingering magic; they’ve been checked.
“Visions are fairly common for Bee-touched,” he reminds her, because he had to have known the Illuminati were coming somehow, and it would explain everything neatly. “And if he’s telling the truth about the Dragon being even more mysterious than usual, he has to be relying on something for direction.”
“He wasn’t lying,” Rebecca corrects quickly. “He wasn’t telling the whole truth, either, but he wasn’t lying.”
“Being very careful about his word choice, yes.” Though Shaun had thought that was more to do with persuading them to help. Rebecca was the one with a better idea of how to deal with people. “Do you think he’s being used as a spy?” He knows what he’d say, but he’s curious about her assessment.
“Oh, absolutely, though knowing the Dragon he’s also possibly an olive branch.” He stares at her. “Dragons don’t do treaties like anyone else, and we might not be experts at reading the patterns like them, but we’re analysts. We’ve both seen. Everything’s picked up. Artifacts, monsters, the bees. We’ve gone from good old fashioned magic to almost-immortals and whatever’s going on in Tokyo. Given their plans-in-plans, he’s probably here to spy a little, as much as he can, without even knowing it, serve as some weird form of cooperation, and probably be a mindgame to everybody. Including us. And here we’re falling for it.” She doesn’t sound at all sorry about it, though Shaun feels the sting of humiliation anyway.
“So, what, they’re hedging their bets?” he demands, and she shrugs.
“They’ve been oddly compliant with the new Council stuff. And really, since when do they not know more about what’s going on than literally everyone else?” Despite the fact that they like to keep their operatives in the dark—and yeah, no matter how much he’d griped at Miles, that’s entirely within their operating procedures.
Well. It’s not like they’d planned on taking him to Templar Hall.
“Do you believe him about the cult?” Rebecca asks. It’s more out of curiosity than anything, because they haven’t been able to pin down exactly which one he might have escaped from.
“Absolutely.” At her raised eyebrow, he sighs. “I am, as you might remember, a bit of the cult expert here?” It’s one of the reasons he was recruited out of his nice posh professor’s position, in fact, and something he rather takes pride in. “He doesn’t even know everything he’s keeping secret. He’s learned not to want to much, to ask too much, to tuck bits of himself away that wouldn’t be approved. Desperate for people to like him, a bit of a people-pleaser, but doesn’t actually expect anything to come from it, is shocked when it does. He’s been out of it for a few years, because he’s learned to mask, a bit, to blend in more and not appear like he’s completely ignorant of the world, but for someone who knows what they’re looking for...yeah. He grew up in a cult, one that, for all we know, knew a bit of the truth, but…” his face and tone darken. “That doesn’t excuse any of it. Five quid that scar isn’t the only one, and another five those are only the physical scars. And his insistence he doesn’t want to get us in trouble?”
“He had help getting out, and...it didn’t go well,” she guesses. Soft heart, has Crane, no wonder she identifies so much with the poor sod.
“At a guess, we remind him of his ill-fated friend or friends, plural, and more than just in our willingness to put our necks on the line.” A vision had told him where to look, where to find those who would be willing to help, only once they had, well, he’d panicked.
The tech scowls, raw determination in that look, and Shaun knows for a fact he is completely and utterly doomed, because the woman is his best friend and there’s no escaping Miles now. “This isn’t going to turn out the same.” They’d probably fight anyone who got in the way, too, even the entirety of Orochi.
“No, it isn’t,” he agrees, and turns back to his research. God, he hopes it’s Morninglight. He’s been itching to knock their teeth in since they moved in their ‘personality test’ routine in London. Arrogant pricks.