The chill morning air sent a light shiver up his spine as he climbed onto the roof of the block of apartments. The sky was dark and heavy over London, and already a light rain had started, dispersing the mist.
"There's going to be a storm." Evie said, looking out over the city. She didn't turn at his arrival.
To some that might have looked clever, but Jacob knew it was because he was just out of breath and hungover from the night before. Even though she usually did always hear him before he saw her, anyway.
"Well spotted." He replied, jovially, dusting himself off from the climb.
There wasn't any wind. It wasn't very cold either. It would probably be a bad one when it finally broke.
"What's on the agenda today then, Evie Frye?" He asked, casually, as he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and strolled over, stopping beside her.
"Mr Green suggested you head to Lambeth didn't he?" She glanced at him disapprovingly.
"I can't remember, to tell the truth." He took off his weather-beaten top-hat, running a hand through his hair idly. "Got a bit carried away celebrating Kaylock's death with the boys last night."
"Yes, I heard." His sister smiled wryly.
"You should have come along." He nudged her with his elbow, putting his hands back in his pockets. "The Rooks are as much yours as mine. Decent speech you made I thought."
"I still can't believe you called your gang that, Jacob." She replied, stepping around the subject.
He knew she still wasn't totally on board with his plans for London, but then he wasn't completely on board with hers either.
Evie had always been the better Assassin, by the terms of the Creed at least. As much as it gave a certain license, a freedom to fight wrongs and help the innocent, he found at times, that it just got in the way.
He couldn't understand why the other Assassins still hid outside London, rather than taking action. Caution had allowed the Templars a century of preparation and solidification of their position in the capital.
He also knew that, to some extent, Evie agreed. She held to the Creed far more than he, and she was definitely a better thinker, planner, leader…not that he'd ever admit it. But she was here, in London with him. And she didn't have to be. That counted for something. She was better than the rest of the Brotherhood.
All this crossed his mind fairly quickly, before another thought popped into his mind.
"Wait, did you call him Mr Green?" He chuckled, when her face wrinkled, embarrassed. "Greenie?"
"It's his name." Evie replied curtly, and a little defensively. She crossed her arms, staring straight ahead.
"His name is Greenie. Or Henry, if you're feeling generous." He smirked. "Mr Green, God have mercy." He chuckled away to himself again.
"You don't have to be so cruel to him." She added, somewhat seriously.
"It's only because I like him. And because you do." He shrugged.
"I do not-…" She argued, glaring at him. "Jacob Frye, you come out with some utter rubbish."
"Do too." He grinned when she turned sharply away from him again, but not in time for him to see the shadow of a smile on her lips.
He did like Henry. It was hard not to respect a man who'd stuck to his guns and lived alone in a city of Templars all this time. Whether carrying out his duty, or simply doing as much as one man alone could do to help in an unsalvageable situation.
Jacob wasn't sure whether the Master Assassin suspected he or his sister were technically here of their own volition, and not at the behest of the Council. But honestly, he seemed like a good man, one who wanted to change things. He wondered if when it finally came out, they could count on his continued support.
He looked up as the rain started getting heavier, pulling down the brim of his hat a little in response as he noticed Evie put her hood up too.
"I just don't think we need to be alienating the support of the only veteran assassin in the city." Evie replied, as if she'd given it some thought. "Especially because the Brotherhood did not sanction our…mission here."
"True." Jacob nodded, thoughtfully. "They wanted to give the Templars another century to work with."
Evie shot him a sidelong glance, but it wasn't angry, or annoyed.
"You have a way of putting things sometimes that does cut rather to the heart of the matter, Jacob Frye." Evie grinned briefly. "Their hold here is strong, and they have a head start on the Piece of Eden."
"We have Whitechapel already." Jacob replied, confidently. "And you have your own lead from Greenie, right?"
"It's a start." She conceded, shrugging.
"It's a damn good start." He replied, more insistently.
"Mr Green…" She paused to glare at him when he chuckled again. "…says we have a lot of work to do. He has contacts and other potential allies we'd need to impress and work with throughout the city. We need to be clever about this, brother."
"All I need is somebody to point out who to kill and where they are."
She turned on him, suddenly very serious.
"They've been here a century Jacob. A hundred years. Starrick and his organisation are probably built into the infrastructure of the city. You need to think this through. There might be consequences to their removal."
Removal. That was their father still speaking through Evie, Jacob mused. Never lose yourself to passion or emotion, never let yourself slip, never drop the composed Assassin façade.
He had groomed and trained Evie into the perfect Assassin, she was his legacy. Jacob had learned, but he cared less for the ideals and dogma of others. He thought of himself as a moral man, for the most part, and they were his own. He had never grasped why the Templar dogma was evil when the Assassin Brotherhood's rules were as stringent and yet inherently good.
He'd loved his father, and his memories of the man were treasured, but…
…Evie would never understand sometimes why he just wished people would forget him. How often had the ghost of their father been used against them, how often would memory ghost be called up to put them down, raise them up, drag them along?
And there was Evie.
His sister adored the man, looked up to him like no other. More than anything, she wanted to carry his legacy on, and more than he, she would be the one to do it. She was a near perfect Assassin.
But she was so broken as a person. She was so full up of Assassin lore and knowledge, he often thought, that there was no room left for anything else. No happiness or sadness, no friends, no…no lovers…
…well, that last part wasn't technically true.
Something his sister was fully aware of, if the look on her face was any judge.
"What are you thinking about now?" She asked, throwing him a knowing, sidelong glance.
"Nothing." He shrugged, pulling up the collar on his coat against the rain. "Should we stop?" He asked, aware she knew what he was talking about.
The Creed was just asking for trouble really, sometimes. Nothing is true? Everything is permitted? It certainly gave one a degree of liberty. And philosophers had spent centuries debating the essence of the words.
Evie had just come up with her own one day, some years ago.
"Do you want to?" She turned to face him, tugging the collar of his coat so he was doing the same.
Their father had meant to prepare them, to train them and hone them into the perfect Assassins. A legacy to shake the Templar Order to its foundations, Evie might say. They'd been pushed together, trained together, fought together, learned together. They were as close as any two humans could be, physically, mentally, emotionally…what few of those his sister allowed herself, anyway.
Between the two of them, their father at least half-succeeded.
"…well…" He mumbled, trying and failing to avoid Evie's gaze.
Of course, Jacob doubted their father had expected this particular outcome of their upbringing. Denied the freedom to grow and learn on their own, shut off from the world to all but the Brotherhood. As sheltered as they were, was it any wonder it had happened? Or was he just making excuses? He at least had snuck out from time to time, night-time excursions, experimentations. Evie though…
"Are you jealous, Jacob Frye?"
He tensed as his sisters hand slid down from his collar to his chest.
Evie had taken the initiative. Evie always did.
How long ago was it? Two years? Three? It probably ran back even longer, rooted somewhere far away in their childhood, but things finally came to a head after a particularly painful training session. The two of them leaning against one another, panting, sweating, exhausted. Their father had just left the room. They were both stripped down to the bare essentials. Both bruised and bandaged. Both so tired.
"No." He lied. "But maybe you and Greenie… maybe it would be good-"
He stopped when her hand slid down to his belt buckle. Her other gloved hand cupped his rough, stubble-covered cheek. His eyes met hers, both expressions as guarded as the other's.
"I think I know what's good for me." She replied, lips curling in the shadow of a smile.
Jacob wasn't sure that was true, but she knew what she wanted, at any rate. And most times she got that.
Evie always took the lead.
Their father hadn't even been surprised when he'd found them together, one night. That had surprised Jacob the most. After that, it was merely an open secret among the Brotherhood. Known but never discussed, vaguely referenced, but never pointed out.
Their father just…accepted it, as if it was some foreseen product of their training. He just accepted it.
And then he died.
And still, none in the Brotherhood challenged them. And so they continued.
He didn't resist as she leaned up, pressing her lips against his. They were cool, and her face was wet with the rain.
The last time they'd been like this had been before they left Crawley.
It wasn't exactly romantic, it was more complicated than that. It had certainly never been simple.
His hands found their way to her arms and he pulled her closer, leaning down as she folded against him.
There was the low rumble of thunder some distance away, across the city, as the storm finally broke.
Evie broke the kiss, easing out of his embrace, leaving him in that slightly-confused, dazed state he always was afterwards.
"We've got work to do." She said, only a little out of breath.
"True enough." He cleared his throat, straightening out his jacket.
They shared a brief look.
"I'll see you later, Jacob." She flashed him a grin before running off to the right and leaping over the edge.
"Later." He murmured.
He watched until she was out of sight before turning south, toward Lambeth, where the rain was coming down hard over the still waters of the Thames.
...so...I been playing AC Syndicate a bit.