paradisalogs | [open] Never sleep...

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altaïr ibn la-ahad

[open] Never sleep...

Who: Altaïr ibn La-Ahad & YOU
What: Arrival + Sleepwalking
When: feb 24 - mar 02
Where: Populated places like the Castle and City, and in front of the Insolitus door.
Rating: will vary, probably PG but things could escalate. As things come up, slap some content warnings on your threads at will.

A(rrival sleepwalking)

Altaïr had been left with the mystery of an ancient artifact, the betrayal of a man he had completely trusted, and the Brotherhood in shambles. The treachery was still fresh, raw; his very blood still stained Altaïr's hand when he woke in Paradisa. "Woke" turned out to be a figure of speech. Though he moved as if awake, washing his hands and going about his business, Altaïr would remain unconscious for the next several days, eyes shut. Though he could not know he was in a new place, he noticed with alarm that the familiar weight of his hidden blade was missing from his bracer. Now where did he put it? His efforts to check under each couch were fruitless, though entertaining for anyone who witnessed him.

His other weapons were intact however, and with the recent upheaval of the Brotherhood, he paced the halls of the castle fully armed—sword at his side, knife on his back, and fifteen throwing knives arrayed over his leather armor and boots. He believed it was the fortress back home in Masyaf. This wasn't too much of stretch, as it was similarly outfitted with a library, garden, towers, and ample living quarters. The hooded man in scholar-like robes was mostly silent, besides the occasional orders to (who he thought were) other Assassins:

"Be on your guard. We are more vulnerable than ever."

B(e in front of the Insolitus door, 27th onward)

About a year ago, Altaïr's lover had been captured and killed by his enemies, the Templars. Since then, he had hunted each one responsible, killing every last one. This did not bring him peace or comfort. He would often wake at night from the haunt of Adha's face, the terror there frozen in death. Altaïr had felt so strongly for her, he thought he could never love another woman like that again.

Now he was in the throes of another nightmare like this. He swiftly took his post at what he thought was a door deep within the Assassin fortress, but was really the Insolitus door. He knew enemies were going to flock to it, and there was no place he could hide while waiting. But he would protect Adha, and maybe cut down a few Templars in the process. His eerie calm, the meditation of an assassin, belied his violent intent, were it not for the chill in his voice and the hand on his sword hilt.

"You should leave."

[ ooc: Try to tag in with a specific date! Plotting post for more info ]

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Maria had just barely settled in when half or more of her fellow castle residents seemed to have lost their senses entirely. Drifting about the halls like dullards, acting as if those who approached them were someone else entirely—barking mad, she thought. She would be more alarmed if she weren't so tired herself.

Despite the drowsiness, she'd managed to keep herself from napping overlong, and without anything else to do, she'd done her own drifting, eventually ending up near what appeared to be a popular spot, given the people she could see scattered around the general area near this door.

One particular person nearly jolted her out of her tired stupor. She knew that voice; she knew that face, no matter how much of it was hidden beneath his hood. Hurrying forward, Maria wasn't sure whether to embrace the relief or worry within her. "Altaïr? Are you all right? How long have you been here?"

Instead of feeling drowsy, Altaïr was getting more than his fair share of sleep. His dreaming self was alert, so to speak, though his eyes were shut tight beneath his hood. The grip on his sword hilt tightened at the approach of a perceived enemy. He turned in her vague direction, widening his stance.

"How do you know me?"

A Templar man in full armor approaches an Assassin and asks if he's alright. Well, stranger things have happened. While he didn't appreciate his cover being blown, it really couldn't be helped. He'd killed enough Templars on the way to Adha to be known amongst their men, and there were no good hiding spots near this door. This was near-suicidal, and close to breaking the second tenet of the Creed, but he couldn't leave Adha.

"Forget your Chalice, forget your mad schemes. They end today."

He grit his teeth. If he could at least sound threatening, maybe this would work. Damn, what he wouldn't give for the rest of the Brotherhood here right now.

"How do I—?! What on earth."

She'd gotten that look of hostility from him precisely once, and that was months in the past. Even the second time they'd fought with the intention of it being to the death (well, from her side, at least), he'd come off as too self-righteous to be angry.

Maria frowned and set her hands on her hips, not backing down one inch. "I've no use for a chalice and no schemes at hand," she said. "Look at me, Altaïr. Don't tell me someone as stubborn as you can't wake yourself up."

In the back of her mind, there was a faint sense of alarm that told her this was not a promising start, but she ignored it. For now.

Much of the inner peace he'd acquired during his hunt for Robert was lost to the fog of the past. Though he could not be the same arrogant man he was, dreams could make one forget things like recent events, or... common sense.

"It is you who is dreaming, Templar, and falsely. My eyes are opened."

She was right about him being stubborn. His hand remained where it was on his hilt.

"Your eyes are closed, you fool." She scowled at him, then rocked back on her heels a bit, considering. "But you can't even tell, can you? Sleep's taken you, like all the others."

Damn him for letting that happen. This was a completely unfair thought, Maria knew, but knowing didn't make it go away. Of all the times for him to show up, it had to be now.

"Do you plan to stand there all day, then?"

Had he not been under the sleeping spell, he might have recognized Robert's stand-in. But now, all he perceived was another one of the many Templars he'd taken down in back alleys, on docks, along roads between the cities of the Levant. His voice takes a sarcastic edge.

"And now you want to know if I'll change shifts with my Brothers. You would have done better to send a scout. It seems the Templars' ranks are not as formidable as they used to be. One can only imagine why."

If Altaïr's efforts had thinned their ranks, and all they had to send was this incompetent stranger, all the better.

Had he not been under the sleeping spell, Maria would have been very surprised by exactly how he might have recognized her. As it was, all she felt was aggravation and dismay.

"No, that's not what I want to know." She let out an annoyed huff. "Even if I were sitll with them, we're capable of more subtlety than that."

Right. Not the point. "Will you please try to look at me? You know who I am!" Without thinking about it, she moved to rest her hand on his shoulder.

"Do not tell me who I do and do not know--"

The magic behind the door spurred a mild alarm through him, but his sight was dreamlike and slow. He was too late to avoid her hand on his shoulder, and he could only react instinctively. He grabbed at her arm, but though he wanted to immobilize her, he knew Templars were more than capable of countering him. He aimed a kick at her legs instead.

"Hey!"

She was just barely fast enough to yank her hand back, and not fast enough to dodge the unexpected kick. That hurt, and she found herself on a hand and knees, sprawled at an awkward angle.

"I am not here to fight you, Altaïr," she growled, alarm quickly growing to match her existing irritation. "We are not enemies!"

"Other Templars have said as much, how similar our goals are. Yes, I listened to their words, but I saw their intentions for what they really were. So do not test me with your falsehoods, that the people have no right to to choose their own peace. I see otherwise. Now leave."

He brandished his sword (slightly in the wrong direction), but did not attack. He did not have any targets here, only potential threats. His task was to protect Adha, not be distracted by fights.

"That isn't—"

Some part of her—possibly her sense of self-preservation—took control long enough to snap her mouth shut, and she quickly got back to her feet. Half-asleep or not, he had the advantage right now.

"Fine then. Do what you like." She glared at him as she took one step backward, then two. "But we'll speak again."

She was up before he knew it, and he was secretly relieved she didn't attack him. For some reason, his reflexes were a little slow. He didn't know his eyes were closed, of course.

"I shall, whether you will it or not. Do not think you can claim her. If you do, the next time we speak will be with blades."

He remained where he was, sword still drawn, watching her step away.

'Her'? That was something to wonder about—from their travels together, Maria knew he wasn't married, but Altaïr hadn't shared enough of his life for her to have an idea of who he could be talking about now.

A question for another day, perhaps. She watched him carefully until she was a good distance away, then turned around and strode off quickly.

Giovanni had been struggling with his own demons since his arrival but for him these nightmares had been suffered while he was wide awake. Well... 'wide awake' was something of a falsehood. Like everyone else here he struggled to remain awake and distracted. The memories of his execution, the looks of horror on his children's faces... those were always stronger when he closed his eyes.

That was why he had taken to the halls once more, to walk the long corridors, explore and forget for a while. It was curious then when he rounded a corner and was promptly met by a heavily armed man warning of vulnerability?

"Due to the strange magic?"

"So you saw," Altaïr said quietly.

Killing his mentor and father figure certainly did happen. Altaïr didn't regret it; it had to be done. But it left a bad taste in his mouth, and a wound in his heart. Magic was real, and Al Mualim had betrayed the Brotherhood. Altaïr wasn't sure which was more shocking to him. He stepped closer to who he thought was another Assassin—true, in this case, though he was from a different time and place. Under the shadow of his hood, his eyes were closed.

"We have nothing to fear from sorcery, at least." Seeing as how he'd killed the one using it. And yet, he wondered. The Apple could do all these things; why not cheat death, too? Perhaps he shouldn't leave Al Mualim's body unattended for too long. "What of the innocents at the gate? Have they returned to their senses? How are our fortifications, Brother?"

Ah, Rauf. You're always there when you're needed. You're even there when you're not. Altaïr regretted all those times he ignored Rauf when he asked him to help the novices practice what it means to wield a blade. He promised himself he'd double his efforts.

Edited (spoiler warning, also i'm sorry i swear i'll stop editing now) 2014-03-04 04:55 (UTC)

"Saw?"

The words were strange to him as if this man were seeing things that were unreal, chasing ghosts. Like the others then he must have been sleepwalking. The magic he spoke of was not the magic of the castle it was the magic of... some past event?

While his eyes were closed and the shadows partly hid his face the robes he wore were unmistakable. He was an Assassin and either a very old or a very traditional one. Most did not chose robes like that in this day and age. He leaned in a little closer so the light hit the man's face in a new way and might have startled or shouted in surprise if he were of a more skittish nature.

Altair?!
It couldn't be, the Master Assassin had died centuries before, and yet here he was! Time really did mean nothing here and death even less.

"Safety and peace, Brother."

The Renaissance Assassin fell back on his history lessons, pulling the old greeting from a text he recalled reading once.

"The gate is secure, the threat ended."

Maybe that would place the other a ease.

"Can you tell me what caused this?"

[OOC: Ha! Can't spoil this one for me. I've already played the game. ]

"Caused what exactly? Al Mualim's betrayal, or the strange power from his Templar treasure?"

Some of the old frustration was edging into the bite of his voice. He sighed. It was hard to find inner peace when the one who counseled him to find it was a liar.

"I do not know the answer to either, Brother. The Templars' mad dream of peace through domination... It must have ensnared Al Mualim, too."

His eyes were closed, but his brow knit, showing his turmoil anyway. He had trusted the old man, blindly followed his orders--at least at first. But Al Mualim had made a mistake in commanding him to see. He saw. And he acted.

"I had to do it. I know there are fears, questions among you... I have them as well. But he betrayed us. Betrayed me."

For a moment, he was not a deadly Master Assassin, but an abandoned son. Al Mualim's love had been shallow, yes, and harsh. But it was all Altaïr knew.

[ ooc: warnings more for other people than us lolololll ]

Of course Masyaf, the Master Assassin must have been reliving some moment from his ascension to power. The story of the Assassin Order had been passed down from generation to generation though, as things often do, many of the details had been lost to history. Giovanni knew Altair had come to lead the Order during a time of great trouble, he would strengthen it and lead it towards a better future, but the regret... some how the historians hadn't written about that. So Altair had killed his Mentor who had become twisted by the Templar's way of thinking and now he was seeking, what? Absolution? Something else?

"If he betrayed the Brotherhood you did what needed to be done. Come, there is no more reason to stand here. You should rest."

Giovanni spoke, thinking it for the best to return the sleepwalker to his room rather than allow him to continue his wanderings.

Just months ago he was used to scathing whispers and brusque remarks about the Mentor's favorite. Al Mualim had called him his best student. Now Al Mualim lay dead, his blood on Altaïr's hands. He did not regret it, even traded some harsh words with him during the fight, but he had been just as shocked as the other Assassins.

"Did you not hear what I just said? We are more vulnerable than ever, Rauf. Now would be the perfect time for the Templars to strike. Robert is dead, but he could have passed the location of our fortress to any number of his allies."

He clenched and unclenched his hands restlessly.

Rauf. Was that who Altair saw him as? Try as he might Giovanni could not remember that name from his studies. Perhaps a follower whose accomplishments were lost to time?

"Cap..."

No, not Italian. The game might be up if he slipped into Italian.

"I understand but there is nothing we can do about that right now. We have to secure the fortress. If any enemies come the Brothers can see to them. You have assured they will remain loyal to our cause."

He reached out, testing his luck by taking the ancient man's shoulder.

"But you need to rest. We will need someone to tell us what we should do now. As you said, many are confused by what has happened."

"There are those who would see this as an excuse to bring me down, when we should be working together. You know it as well as I, and that I am to blame for it. Until recently, I did not treat my Brothers with the respect I should have."

He fell quiet, the shadow of his hood crossing his face. Did he even have the right to tell everyone what to do? But taking Al Mualim's place still seemed the logical course of action. He did not shun the man's hand on his shoulder, but he did shy away a bit to sit on a nearby bench. Kindness in the form of physical gestures was in short supply for an Assassin raised to eschew attachments that were weak in Al Mualim's eyes.

"Perhaps if I had not been blinded by my own foolishness, I would have seen it coming."

'Perhaps if I had not been blinded by my own foolishness, I would have seen it coming.'

Giovanni had been saying this same thing to himself since he arrived. He had placed his trust in the wrong person, not questioned him enough... not moved fast enough. It was his fault his family had been destroyed.

These feelings were never very far from the surface but Altair speaking as candidly as he was brought them flooding back to mind again. Was that what the change of power had been like for the legendary Altair, like watching your family be destroyed?

His eyes softened as he watched Levantine Assassin walk away and take a place on the bench but he did not move to follow him. Perhaps he needed the distance. There was nothing worse than that feeling, knowing you were the reason everything ended up as it did... it was difficult to go on with that knowledge.

"You have the opportunity to make amends for your mistakes."

He did not, which made his words take on more heartfelt sincerity.

"Make the most of it. You will find the strength to become everything the Order needs."

Al Mualim had said that familial attachments made one weak. Altaïr had had little in the way of this, instead turning to the old man for guidance and approval. His life had changed when he'd been stripped of his rank and possessions, and it changed again when he'd had to kill him.

"You were always kind to me, Rauf," he said quietly. "Thank you."

He suddenly gave a short laugh.

"If I can win back Malik's trust, keeping the Brotherhood together may yet be possible."

The past few months of struggling for false redemption in Al Mualim's eyes had counted for something after all. Malik had lost his arm and his brother to Altaïr's folly, yet he saw Altaïr's change in heart and supported him in the end. Indeed, Malik's sword arm was a good thing to have on one's side.

"Your welcome."

Malik? That was a name mentioned in the Codex wasn't it? Giovanni's memory on that proved a little sketchy so he just smiled. At least Altair was laughing so maybe some of his burden had been eased, if even temporarily.

Strange to see a legend laughing. The statues always made him look so stern and imposing. But, this was no statue on a pedestal. This was a rare chance to come to know the real person behind the man so highly regarded within the order. He would love to pick the man's mind about so many things but foremost he made note to ask after Malik and this Rauf once this sleep walking event, curse, whatever it was... ended. The names of men not as well known to history but undoubtedly important.

"The world is full of endless possibilities."

Even more so, here.

"You will have those loyal to the Brotherhood to support you."

It was an almost hollow laughter, but it was there. He tended to face adversity with tenacity and stubbornness anyway. It had saved his life when he faced Al Mualim.

"So it is. Everything is permitted."

It was a way of saying everything was possible, and Altaïr believed it. The illusions of this world could be transcended if one saw the possibilities.

"I will take my leave... finish my watch and rest as you suggested."

Perhaps it was the sitting down, but he already felt tired.

Castle seemed to be trapped inside a nightmare.

He was back home, in New York, except it was perpetually dark and raining, and it seemed as though the only people here were his enemies. It wasn't long until he came upon a wooden door- and standing outside of it was his greatest adversary.

3XK.

Trembling, Castle thought about running, but his legs were rooted to the spot with fear. He raised his hands.

"Now... I don't know where we are... but we can both walk away from this. Okay?"

Altaïr felt no rain, only the balm of the temperate Mediterranean, and the presence of a mortal enemy. He spoke with conviction—and, though he wouldn't admit it in front of a foe, suppressed emotion. He loved Adha.

"Walk away from the one I've sworn to protect? Only to let you people continue with your mad schemes? I cannot do that."

His sword whispered out of its sheath, a curved, damascene blade with a golden handle. He pointed it at Castle's chest, at the red cross of a Templar he was convinced was there.

"You are not my target, but you are my enemy. Leave this place."

Castle did not see a sword- only a gun pointed at his chest. He stood frozen with indecision, not sure whether to run to try to wrestle the gun out of the killer's hand- or to try and talk his way out of it.

He found himself scoffing.

"Yeah, because you're the sworn-to-protect type."

Altaïr had always been sure of what to do when attacked by a Templar--bring them to a permanent end. The Templars were the Assassin's longtime enemies. But here, starting a fight right out in the open was risky. He was the only Assassin here, and the noise could bring more enemies running. If he failed in any way, he might be killed. He did not fear death, having been trained for the dangers of his profession, but he feared losing Adha.

"I am. Do not cross me, Templar. You will not pass through this door."

"What are you hiding in there, another body?" Castle challenged. He figured at this point that it was best to just keep the guy talking- as long as he was talking, he wasn't shooting, after all. "More cronies to do your dirty work for you?"

He was not hiding a body per se, but he didn't deny he killed.

"You know neither of us can say our hands are clean. You talk of peace, but you seek it through control and dominion over others. You and your conspiracies have replaced knowledge with fear in the hearts of men. I would set them free from your tyranny, even if it means I have to kill every last one of you."

That would not bring him much joy or peace, but it might save some innocent lives.

"Conspiracies?" Now Castle was getting really confused. "You've gone totally off your rocker. Both of us know who's the serial murderer here. The one who really strikes terror."

He moved closer, his hands at his sides, though he was ready to spring.

"It is true I kill, and my enemies do fear me. But where you would use your force to control, I would bring true peace to the people."

Had he been awake, he would have noticed Castle inching towards him. As it was, his sight wasn't at its best. His brandished sword did not move, but the magic behind the door told him there might be a threat. He tensed, and though his feet did not move, he subtly shifted his weight to improve his guard. His hood turned, as if to try and catch the sounds of steps, the rustle of fabric. Of course, it wasn't turned directly to the man approaching him, given he couldn't see.

"Ah. So this is one of those 'fight the real enemy' things, isn't it? Fight against the big bad NYPD.... You're not as smart as you think you are..."

Suddenly Castle lunged, aiming to wrestle the weapon out of the other man's grip. However, his reflexes definitely weren't as sharp as they would be if he were awake.

NYPD? Before he could ponder what that was, he heard the rustle of the man attacking him. Had he been awake, he would have seen him coming and easily countered him. But his eyes were closed like they'd been for days. Too late, hands fouled his sword's aim. Unable to use his sword arm, his other hand grappled with him, trying to throw him off. He couldn't even risk going for one of his little knives and leaving his defenses open.

If he'd had his hidden blade, he would have made it a swift kill. But that had been taken from his left bracer by the powers that be, to his chagrin.

Ezio would have liked nothing more than some quiet time with his father and friends after Cassandra's death, but the castle was never that patient. Instead, there were sleepwalkers, and even some of his own had fallen victim to it.

At least seeing yet more Assassins was less of a surprise, given the frequency at which they'd been arriving as of late. When Ezio spied Altair up the hall, he didn't need to think twice before falling into step behind him, tailing him quite obviously.

"You," he said, and then corrected himself to be a little more appropriate. "Altaïr."

Had Altaïr been awake, he would have noticed the people who looked like fellow Assassins. He also would have noticed someone was tailing him, but as it was, the Master Assassin was not in full possession of his faculties. He whirled, caught by surprise, hand darting near his sword hilt.

"How do you know me?"

The strange force behind the door told Altaïr that this man might endanger Adha. His eyes were closed, and he did not see the white hood or unique bracer of an Assassin. Altaïr saw a potential enemy, instead of an ally.

Ezio paused, if only to remind himself: sometimes they remember, sometimes they don't.

"You are Mentor to the Assassins," he said, carefully.

He raised his hands in a sort of peace-making gesture, palms open in a sort of quasi-innocence.

"Do you not recognize a Brother when you see him?"

Mentor. In this dream, the Altaïr of the past did not remember killing his last, unexpected target. He didn't even know that he was in a different world full of sorcery. He believed he was still in Masyaf, and that Adha was still alive.

"I see only a man unknown to me. There is no one allowed here except for my allies. Leave."

His hand remained where it was on his sword.

"I am of the Brotherhood," Ezio replied, pointedly. As if it would be obvious, given that Ezio wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion. He held up his finger, instead, so that Altair might see the brand. "Relax, Mentor."

He saw no mark on his finger, only a man brandishing his hand at him. "Seeing" was a figure of speech anyway, given his eyes were closed. The magic power behind the door was his only means of vision, and Altaïr saw only what it wanted him to see. His brow knit in a scowl.

"If you think this deception can bring you closer to her, you are mistaken."

His voice still carried its deadly conviction, even if he was totally wrong. He drew his sword, but it pointed slightly to the side of Ezio. His eyes were closed, after all...

Connor was on edge, and had been for weeks now -- the arrival of Edward, the arrival of Haytham, the death of Cassandra. Things continued to build, and his faith in the god of this world's neutrality was starting to waver. What kind of god would heap on stress and sorrows like this? It's a selfish line of thinking; he knew others had felt the same pressures from similar circumstances. Pain and death and indifference from the castle's ministrations. But he's always thought himself to be neutral enough to the castle god that it wouldn't affect him. He didn't wish for anything, didn't curse it, stayed inside its halls as little as possible.

But still, this.

And so, he wasn't even all that surprised when he saw another white hood. Another Assassin. Of course.

His irritation with the god of this place deepened.

"Peace," he said, though he kept his distance all the same. "What do you guard?"

Altaïr had seen too much of the Crusade's atrocities to place his faith in the God of either side. He likened that story to a fairy tale, something to be discounted. Then he had seen the terrible yet curious power of the Apple, and been whisked here just after that. But he had not been awake to ponder his situation, arriving only to fall into a sleeping spell. He did not question the castle, because to him, he was simply back in his own world, guarding someone very important.

If this person did not know he was guarding Adha, he was likely an enemy. The sorcery from behind the door twisted his thoughts in that direction. His eyes were closed, but his scowl could not be missed. His voice was cold.

"It is none of your concern."

Closed eyes. Could he be another sleeper? A new Assassin brought here by the castle, only to be immediately thrown into one of its perverse experiments?

Connor felt sympathy for this newcomer, and still more irritation with this world -- there never seemed to be a break in the torture. It's always one thing after another. And now he couldn't help but wonder if the god of this place now had a special vendetta against the Assassins. He and Ezio were here alone for nearly a year, and then suddenly there were more of their Order here than he knew about.

If he went behind the door this man guarded, would he find another one?

Cautiously, Connor decided to try another tack, slowly moving to one side. "What is your name? You must be new here, and I fear you are confused."

If Altaïr knew his mind was being imprisoned by a dream, he would be furious. He had seen what Al Mualim had done to the villagers with the Apple. That sort of control was the very thing Altaïr and the rest of the Assassins fought against. Taking someone's will was anathema to him.

"Why give you my name? I do not know you. Speak sense. How have you come to be here? No one is allowed in this area."

His patience was shorter than usual, which was saying something. He placed his hand on his sword hilt.

How can one rouse a sleepwalker who has a sword? It's a situation Connor never really imagined finding himself in, but then again, his time in this world has just been one long experiment in experiences he'd never considered.

He continued moving to try and slowly circle around to this Assassin's side, trying to see if he could see through his eyelids or if he was truly dreaming.

"I do not think you are where you think you are. This is the castle Paradisa, in a different world from your own."

Altaïr shifted accordingly in the direction of Connor's voice. The magic force behind the door could guide him somewhat, but he was still half blind. He didn't know this of course, thinking and acting as if he were awake, guarding Adha who was safe in the Masyaf fortress.

"You know as well as I do where we are. I will not fault you for being mad, but you have no business here. Everyone knows we Assassins have our secrets. Do not test me."

Damn. Okay, maybe that won't work.

Connor stopped when Altaïr turned toward him, mostly because he didn't actually want to get murdered by someone who was sleeping (or by someone who was awake, for that matter, but this situation was more immediate), still holding his hands up.

"Peace, Brother. I am of your Order as well; you have nothing to worry from me. What must I do to put your fears to rest?"

Altaïr stood his ground. It was just like a Templar to say he was an Assassin, a simple enough trick. The door's sorcery goaded his unseeing sight into believing Connor posed a possible threat.

"I do not know how you came to be here, but I do know why. You will not come any closer to her."

He drew his sword, confident it was pointed directly at Connor. As it was, he was off by about three feet.

"You will forget your lies and your schemes and leave this place."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] Never sleep...

B because hideousness

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A

spoilers for Assassin's Creed

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B

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A and March 1st??? haha that makes me less late.

RL happened, so I'm late too

real life is a dick

it truly is

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B........ Feb 27-ish

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