Memories of War

[madimpossibledreamer]

Desmond actually is doing better than he thinks, but he’s right that he has been half-assing it a little because he wasn’t confident. He did obviously decide to have another existential crisis, this time because he finally realized that people might know who he is now.
Red’s speech about the war is paraphrased because, among other things, he usually tells it at his store.

Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond follows the lead Krieg gave him and stumbles across another.
Word Count: 2690
Rating: Teen

 

        Alice takes to the knife extremely well. Like a good little Assassin, actually, which brings back good memories of when he was a kid in a way that hadn’t happened for years. Not someone else’s memories, his own. Back to a time when the kids all believed, back when they’d looked forward to their own Hidden Blades, the proof that they were grown up and ready to kill.
        She doesn’t treat it like the fire. Honestly, wild as the thought is, she might actually be safer in close-quarters than from a distance. That’ll be tested in an actual fight, but the change in attitude is encouraging. Because she’s careful. She doesn’t wave her knife around wildly. She’d follow his movements carefully, face screwed up like she’s memorizing his every movement to try to replicate it.
        It takes him a little while to realize that maybe it’s because she has a goal, now. She’s not just drifting aimlessly, following the patterns of chaos and random chance. She might be starting to believe that free will exists, that she has the ability to choose her destiny, and she wants that freedom with a familiar viciousness. So being precise matters now, in a way it hadn’t before. Maybe she’s also trying to demonstrate that she’s worthy. If she had weapons taken away before, she might be on her best behavior, trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
        She’s also more comfortable in her skin right now than he is. Lydia is at least not quite enough of a shitstirrer to just sit in silence and watch him stew. She continues asking Krieg questions. He’s actually vaguely certain, without knowing the specifics because he’s trying to concentrate, that she’s still interrogating him. He’s not sure if Krieg realizes. He’s distracted. Why is less clear. It could be because he’s doing the Leonardo thing where he’s thinking about his next project so strongly he’s tuning out the world around him. Desmond kind of hopes it’s because Rukh, tired of being ignored, has decided to take the staring game a little more up close and personal. The raven has perched himself on Krieg’s desk, following Krieg’s every move unblinkingly, inching closer if the man looks away. At least that’s a nice distraction and intimidation tactic in one—Desmond appreciates his bird being protective.
        Because he’s pretty sure Rukh has sensed that something’s wrong, that Desmond’s feeling exposed. Maybe the reason he’d been worried about leading Shaun on was that he kind of had been, even if it hadn’t been on purpose. Sure, he had been planning on actually acting on it, eventually, assuming Shaun learning Desmond’s whole deal doesn’t push him away. It’s now more than a faint glimmer of hope that it won’t, given that Shaun’s discomfort with guns and Desmond being an assassin hadn’t scared him away yet, but he can’t know without testing it out, actually telling him about the Assassin stuff and the other world, and that scares him. And he definitely could have done without having that realization in front of this particular bastard.
        He also has the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that he’s pretty sure Krieg is going to use this, use him, in his books somehow. It’s nothing new, in a way—his ancestors had their legends build through rumors, not books. But that’s never been Desmond, not in his first lifetime, at least (and that’s just as weird as the whole earning a reputation thing to think about). Maybe the other Shaun and Rebecca are talking about him, after his death, and he trusts them with his story, because, well. He just trusts them. They’re not going to exaggerate too much, make him out to be this superhero, someone he’s not. They’ll be fairly accurate about it, his whole life story, with his flaws and all.
        This world, though, he’d been kind of preoccupied trying to figure out the rules and factions to actually think about what’s going on. Yeah, okay, some nobody doesn’t get a hitman, however amateurish, after them, but it hadn’t really occurred to him that he’s not some blade in the dark or just another inhabitant of New York City anymore, and now it has, and he’s not entirely sure how to feel about it. That’s probably why the Dragon like him so much, why they keep talking about their chaos theory butterfly thing, because like a butterfly flapping its wings he had this much of an effect on what’s going on without even really directly trying. Stopping the apocalypse, yeah, sure, not the first time, but actually being known, having people recognize him before he’d even pulled it off, that’s new and different and he’s not sure he likes it. He’s really itching to climb, but the outside of the lighthouse is still wet and slippery and he’s not going to do that.
        It’s not like he has a choice about continuing to go unnoticed. That stopped being a possibility a while ago. Maybe if he hadn’t sought out Rebecca and Shaun, but after that even his disappearance wouldn’t stop people talking.
        It’s probably part of becoming a Mentor, honestly. However half-hearted his efforts have been thus far. He hadn’t done too good a job, uncomfortable with the idea of being Mentor or seeing himself as the expert, no matter what the Ezio illusion had said. Probably more with his dad he has to unpack. Watching Alice go through the motions and wondering what kind of white hood she’d go for kind of drives it home. Because if she’s this excited about earning her own knife and Hidden Blade, rituals like your first robes would be something she’d be all over. That being said, he’d learned from Ezio—and what not to do from his dad. He hadn’t insisted on teaching Chelsea magic, letting his paranoia win over his humility, instead sending her off to the actual experts. He’s half tempted to call the Templars the Magic Guild to Shaun’s face, just to see if that sends him on some kind of rant or what expression the guy makes. Which...actually should probably have clued him in, since he knows he tends to tease people he likes—friends, yeah, but he ramps it up when he’s actually interested, and he’s been teasing Shaun a lot.
        Shaun...might actually get the pressure. He’s probably not doing all of the same coordinating teams stuff his Assassin counterpart did, but Desmond’s starting to get the feeling that physical danger might not have been the only thing Shaun was trying to protect him from. That offer might have been Desmond’s ticket to just an obscure oddity, but he’s not really the kind of guy to sit around. He’s more of an action guy. So, barring that, what would Shaun, or maybe Rebecca, advise him to do?
        Shaun...Shaun would probably have this story about how individuals are important, yes, absolutely, but history is never written by just one person. If he focuses on teaching, figuring out his style of being a Mentor, it’s not just his story anymore. It’s the story of the rebuilding of the Assassins. It’s not going to be easy, not exactly, but it’s something he’s pretty sure he can actually do, so...yeah. Rebecca would find a cute cat video or have him playing some sort of game to test his reflexes or—
        His thoughts are interrupted by a squeal, and he glances over. It turns out that Bob might have been fine with rain but doesn’t seem to get how runoff works. He keeps poking his head out, getting hit with a pretty big splash of water running off the lighthouse roof, squealing, and running back inside.
        It’s not perfect, but he does manage to get his mind in gear to the point he can actually effectively show off some moves and correct Alice’s grip without getting stuck in his own thoughts every few seconds. The second it’s basically stopped raining, though, he announces that it’s time to go. He would’ve expected Krieg to laugh at him, but he’s too busy scribbling away. Desmond decides to carefully ignore the possibility he’s the one Krieg’s writing about, just to avoid that weird feeling coming back. He also would’ve expected Alice to pout, but she just sheathes her knife without complaint, eyes glittering, and he’s suddenly very sure she’s actually very excited about putting practice into, well, practice. Shockingly, Lydia’s the only one not itching to get out of here. But then, she may have enjoyed trying to interrogate someone. Also, given how she gingerly inches down the wooden spiral outside, trying very, very carefully not to glance down to the rocks and Draug below, despite her devil-may-care attitude, she actually does remember her slip on the bridges and is not keen to repeat the experience, particularly from even higher up. She’s even more tentative than when they’d come up, so probably broods on things even if she doesn’t show it. Which means she’ll fit right into the Assassins, probably.
        “You like old stuff, huh,” he comments, because once again when they get to the rickety old metal elevator she calms down almost immediately. He’s not particularly comfortable with the way it lurches around, but even he will admit the construction is kind of impressive.
        “I mean, secret panels, old machinery, treasure, what’s not to like?” …Yep. She’d definitely fit in.  Maybe if they’re lucky they’ll find more treasure soon.
        “That’s fair.” Rukh nods on his shoulder in complete agreement.
        “Oh. I didn’t expect Krieg to have visitors.” Desmond’s immediate reaction is that this is finally one of the local Wabanaki before he even catches a glimpse of the man wearing a cap and flannel. It takes him another moment to realize why. It’s not the exact same cadence, but there’s something about the way he talks that reminds Desmond of Connor, even stronger than John Wolf’s voice. Maybe because John Wolf travels so much? He’s got a couple cans and what looks like a container of cooked fish he’s setting down on the table.
        “We’d been sheltering from the rain. I’m Desmond.” Alice and Lydia introduce themselves quickly, Rukh even bobbing his head in some sort of greeting (unlike Bob, who just sniffs the newcomer and then runs off to the full extent of his leash to stare outside), as Desmond moves forward. The man has a good handshake.
        “Red. I have a store, Red’s Bait and Tackle, right at the entrance to Blue Mountain. We would be glad of the company.” He glances back at the elevator and then adds honestly, “I would rather brave the rain.”
        Desmond considers, but only briefly. Shaun had thought getting in touch with the Wabanaki was a good idea; in fact that’d been his first instinct to try to figure out what was going on in Solomon Island. So it’s probably worth sharing. “A vision brought us here, actually. I don’t know if it’ll help deal with the fog, but it’s probably not a good idea to ignore a vision.”
        Red lets out a long, slow breath. “That is an old wound. You are right, but many of the rest of the tribe do not agree. They wish to forget. But even if they forget, our enemies will not.”
        “Can you tell me more about your enemies? They’re not the only things going on, but a lot of what’s going on now has at least connections to the past.” They’d dealt with the Park and Henderson’s legacy trying to wipe out the Wabanaki, sure, but maybe there’s more—a clue to Beaumont’s identity, or what the sword is and its weaknesses, something.
        Red nods. “Yes, but not here. Come to my store. I am uneasy leaving Ami and Kyra to fend for themselves, despite Ami’s powers, and you have a vision to follow.”
        “Well, we’re probably traveling at least part of the same way. Might as well travel together.” If it saves some time later and keeps this guy safe, it’s worth it. And who knows? His story could be relevant now.
        “That would be appreciated. This old fisherman is not much of a warrior, though some skills are helpful. Patience. Not announcing your presence to the fish, or the shark.” He catches himself before he keeps going on the metaphor. “Where does the vision lead you next?”
        “The tourist houses, according to Krieg. He had what we were looking for and lost it.” Lydia takes the bridges a little better, mostly because she’s curious about the story and therefore distracted from the plummet kept at bay by the ropes on either side.
        “He does not understand the importance of much of what he does or sees,” Red agrees. His tone isn’t particularly angry or disapproving, but it’s clear he's also not too much of a fan. If Anne is that much different than Krieg’s usual work, then Desmond isn’t too much of one, either. “The houses are south of the Academy. I can show you the way. I have delivered fishing supplies there before.”
        He does tend to stay back when they fight, though a lot of the zombies are still ignoring them unless they get too close. The fights do confirm that Alice is actually a lot less reckless when she’s up close. And Red definitely doesn’t feel like he has magic. He is gold to Eagle Vision, but that might just be what he knows.
        “You mentioned an enemy?” Lydia, from the sound of it, is feeling a little left out—that, or she’s curious. Honestly, knowing her, it’s probably both.
        “An old enemy from even further South, yes. A thousand years ago evil came to our island seeking the darkness slumbering below our mountains. With the help of strangers from across the sea bringing a magical sword and powerful magic inscribed in stones, we were able to defeat them, but their spirits remain, seeking that darkness, and their allies slept as well, for many long years.” He glances at Bob, who remains completely cheerfully unworried about anything. Until they all stare at him. It takes him a bit to notice, but when he does he slows and lets out a confused chirp. “Some of them you may know as the ak’ab. Some may have forgot their purpose and instinct, in their long slumber. Many have not.”
        A magical sword, huh. And ‘strangers from across the sea’, when a lot of the roads have been leading right back to the Norse. “I think a sorceror’s seeking to misuse that sword, unless there’s more than one magic sword here.”
        Red frowns. “It would not surprise me. It is said that one of these strangers warned that others may seek the sword. Evil does not forget, and it does not forgive. A shark remembers those that have harmed it and bides its time. Ancient grudges fuel the need to humiliate, corrupt, and destroy.”
        “Do we know what happened to the sword?” Lydia asks again, before Desmond can even open his mouth, and, well. It’s a good question, and she’s showing some initiative. That’s good.
        “The strangers took it with them, but they left some of their other magic. We may need it once again.” He slows, pointing at a bunch of houses surrounded by Draug and zombies. That’s...a lot of blue lobster-humans, and a lot of zombies. More than Desmond’s seen in a while, but then, it looks like maybe these zombies are taking orders or following the Draug’s lead, rather than everything else awoken by the Park. “Those are the houses on Mason Crescent. Good hunting.”
        “Be safe,” Desmond responds, and Red nods and creeps away.  Not as stealthy as an Assassin, but he’s not bad.  
        “Sharks absolutely don’t hold grudges,” Lydia corrects, not able to hold her knowledge in anymore, the moment he’s out of sight.
        Red is, however, not out of hearing. “It was a metaphor. There is a wounded woman here.”  He doesn’t sound especially worried, like she’s dying, but this close to the Draug...
        Desmond breaks into a run, Rukh soaring ahead after him while Lydia and Alice and Bob follow on his heels.