I do not own Assassin's Creed! Nor do I own the Meme! It is by Mazzaroo on Deviant Art! Go check it out!
….after you read my story, of course. ;)
On with the Meme!
1) Who are you and where do your loyalties lie? Templar or Assassin?
Assassin. Because they've got Shaun. And I'm Warfang, also Warfangwhowrote on Deviant art.
2) Who's your favorite Character and why? Draw them shirtless XD
I'm afraid that a multiple answer. My favorites are Shaun, Malik, and Leonardo. One's British, the other's snarky and the third is an angelic painter helping an assassin. Hmm, shirtless….
Shaun yawned, shuffling into the bathroom. This is what pulling six days of no sleep did to a body. Rebecca had assured him that the New York team was safely tucked away from Abstergo's reach, and had chased him out of the room. More like she was scared what a half-awake man near her Baby would result in.
Grumbling under his breath, and wishing to feel the warmness of the shower, because ew, he was not sleeping in his clothes after being unable to change out of his sleeping pants, and he smelled, Shaun tugged his sweater and his button up shirt off altogether.
There was a strangled noise from the shower.
"Lucy? Oh, dear God, I didn't realize this was occupied. I'll just, uhm, wait for you to finish." Shaun shuffled back out the door.
Lucy passed him in the hall.
"Get in there and bathe, Shaun."
"Wait- if you're out here, then who was in the shower?"
"Desmond! Get out so Mr. Half- Naked can make with the loofa!" Lucy shouted.
A very red faced Desmond slinked past them with his clothes and a towel wrapped around his waist.
"I'll just rinse my hair out in the kitchen sink." Desmond muttered, scooting past.
…
Malik hissed again as the apothecary inspected his arm.
"Well, the cut is clean, and the wound itself is healed over, but I'm afraid that you'll always feel like the arm is still there. Whatever causes involuntary reflexes is still apparent. I pinch this, and you feel it, just as if your arm was whole. We call them phantom pangs."
Malik nodded, focusing on his one arm that was white knuckled on the counter.
"You'll make a fine Dai in Jerusalem."
A rustle near the door alerted them.
"Ah, it seems I have another patient. Please, excuse me. I'll be back to wrap you up." The doctor turned from him and hurried to the door. Malik looked at his left stump, then to the retreating doctor's back, then to the bandages.
Well, he never was one for depending on others.
The doctor came back from the door to see Malik fumbling.
"Ah, you should have cut a length and then wrapped it, but this is a good first try." The apothecary set about, showing Malik how to treat the wounds.
Through the door leading into the room, Altair could see the pink, healing flesh as it disappeared under white strips.
…..
Leonardo sighed, stretching his arms up over his head. Working on the flying machine was tedious, but soon, he could help Ezio again. What would he ever say to the boy if he ran out of ideas to help him with? 'There is nothing else I can do for you. Mi dispiace.' Frowning at how callous the words sounded, Leonardo tilted his head one way, then the other, eyeing the dimensions of his machine.
In the process, his neck gave several loud protests about him craning it to work with the design. Wincing at the vulgar noise, Leonardo scolded himself for ignoring his own anatomy lessons. He would need to relax the muscles, he felt too stiff all over.
But how?
His apprentices had left hours ago to their own beds, and he didn't want to bother them over something so trivial. Setting some water to boil, Leonardo flitted about, finding a few clean rags. Once the water was hot, he pulled the pot out and poured the water into a bowl.
Stripping down to his undershirt, he soaked the rags and then pressed them to his neck.
After a few minutes, he was able to turn his head without feeling an uneasy pull and stretched again. Warming the rags and applying them loosened his muscles considerably. However, his undershirt was getting wet.
Pulling the shirt off so it could dry, Leonardo pressed one more slightly warm rag to neck rolled his head. Satisfied that he wouldn't sound like a fireplace in the morning, he turned around to shuffle off to bed, not bothering to clean up.
Ezio was standing behind him, the window open.
For a moment, Leonardo marveled at how the moonlight and the dying fire created a wonderful effect of shadows on the Assassin's body. Then his brain caught up.
"Are you injured, or is this visit for Codex pages, amico mio?" Leonardo asked softly.
Ezio shook his head.
"Guards at the inn I'm staying at. I decided not to push my luck with drunk bastardos. If I may?"
"Si, si, of course you may. Ah, no, the bedrooms are all used up. You'll have to take my bed. I'll find a cot somewhere."*
Ezio swallowed hard, as Leonardo moved around.
"As I am uninjured, perhaps we can share? I plan to leave before sunrise, after all."
Leonardo stopped looking for the cot and straightened up.
"Oh no, I couldn't imposed-"
"I do not mind, amico mio. And it is I imposing on you. Come, I would not wish you anything less than the best of sleep."
Nodding, Leonardo followed Ezio up the stairs into his bedroom.
The younger man ranted in his head about coming here for rest, and crawling into bed with a decidedly unresolved topic, and thought he could resist temptation.
"Leo…" He started, before realizing that the older man was asleep before he managed to even peel back the covers. With a sigh, Ezio shook his head and untied his cape. Draping the garment over Leonardo, he crawled in beside him.
"Sweet dreams, amico mio."
3. Yum. Got any fan characters? Introduce them. (No own characters? Draw AN ASSASSINS CREED DANCE PARTY! GO NUTS LOL)
Desmond sighed and pushed the door open. From the music blaring through the wood he could tell that tonight was a wild party. And the bar wasn't even open yet. Of course, the bar wasn't open because he was the only working bartender, the others having the day off and actually being half-way across the country and the other out on a genuine sick leave.
Slipping in an hour before the bar would be open had seemed like such a good idea as they wouldn't have that many people at the club before eleven that were looking for a drink.
Tonight, those few people would be a horde, and it wasn't even ten fifteen.
He slips around the crowd, and vaults over the bar. Checking the ledger, he discovers that the club has actually been reserved for a celebration, and that notice has been given out far in advance.
What surprises him is that alcoholic drinks are only to be served between eleven and one am, and that bottles of water are to be charged for.
Well. That was a change of pace.
Shrugging, Desmond started to set up, looking out across the floor. It looked like Mardi Gras, but with definite Arabic and Italian themes. It was a rather odd mismatch. Plus, there seemed to be uniforms in the party, but all of them were so varied that the actually definition of the costumes were rather loose.
"You do know that you can join in if you're bored, right?"
Desmond's head swings around, because he hadn't even seen the guy, and his bar is open and he has no blind spots.
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, Sorry, I'm Ezio, and an organizer, but not the host. That would be Altair, although some would argue that it's Malik. I just came over to invite you to the party."
Desmond shook his head.
"Ah, I'd rather not. Two left feet."
"After you vaulted over the counter instead of using the swing door? Really?"
Desmond stares at him, because while there are no blind spots, and no obstacles, no one has ever caught him actually vaulting the counter.
"…please don't tell. Leonardo can be rather touchy about if I injure myself. He's already mad that Salai got laryngitis and had to stay home."
"Is that where the little stronzo got to." Ezio mused.
Desmond felt his hackles go up. He did not like how Ezio tilted his head, sending a look towards the hidden stairs that led up to Leonardo's private studio, where the artist by hobby lived above the bar.
"Are you the stalker? Because, Borgia, fuck off, I've got a silent alarm under the counter." Desmond keeps his voice steady, but the entire room goes dead quiet.
Ezio lets out a strident laugh.
"Oh, God, me? No, I'm not a Borgia. I'm Auditore."
"Oh." Desmond feels his cheeks flush. "It's just, Leonardo's been shifty lately, and not sleeping well, and I thought I'd have to chase someone out of here again."
"Again?"
"Back when we were setting up, I broke the broom handle over a guy who claimed to be working with the Borgia. Complete scam to try and con Leonardo. God, that was what, five years ago? And probably the most excitement we've seen since then."
Desmond reflects that maybe he shouldn't be spilling his life story to this stranger, like so many patrons to the Bartender, partially because he isn't drunk, and Ezio is paying sharp attention to him.
Of course, Ezio is also sitting with his back resting against the bar, watching the mingling crowd, and only partially facing Desmond in a relaxed, lazy way. A perfect setting to put one at ease.
"Well, how about this? I buy all of the waters, and you come out and enjoy yourself, mister…?"
"Ah, Desmond."
"Mister Desmond. And please, if the Borgia do bother Leonardo, contact me."
There's a card slipping into his hand, and then Ezio is back in the crowd, and Desmond can't pick him out.
Studying the card, Desmond slips it into his wallet, before a credit card is slid across the counter.
"Apologies. I had forgotten that my wallet was in my coat." Ezio smiles warmly, and Desmond nods, before ringing up the total.
He changes the display, and sets up a buzzer for when new drinks are needed, because these people are not getting behind the counter and into his bar.
The he swings over the counter and follows Ezio into the dance floor, giving him back his credit card.
….
The music is pulsing. Sure, he's wearing advance earplugs that can't be seen all that well, but it's still so loud. He's resting in a corner when a body slumps down next to him, and his first reaction is to reach out and pin, because that isn't a fellow assassin gasping for breath next to him.
"Shaun, I'd like for you to meet Desmond. Ezio invited him." Lucy yells over the noise.
Shaun mostly reads her lips anyway, signaling that he heard her and looks to the new specimen.
"First dance?"
"Pretty much. Usually I have a solid counter between me and the masses." Desmond replies, huffing for breath. "I thought I had stamina, but that is hard."
"That's because they've been pacing themselves, and you can't see all the seats from the bar. Take me, for example." Shaun rolled his shoulder.
"Are you too injured to dance?"
"I don't have a boyfriend to dance with." Shaun replies. True, in any other social setting he would never have said anything to that effect. In any other setting, he could very well have been mobbed, just like when Malik and Ezio had found him, fighting off six guys trying to teach him why gays weren't allowed to live.
Instead, Desmond plops into the seat next to him.
"Me too. Dancing with Lucy was nice, but I think Rebecca was about to rip me a hole if I wanted to continue dancing with her."
Shaun relaxed, leaning into Desmond. Perhaps tonight would be a greater victory celebration than he thought.
…..
Malik ducked under, spinning around as Altair twirled him again. The novice was blatantly using the fact he had one arm to manipulate him in the dance. Point in case, as his arm was twisted behind him and pulled flush against Altair behind him.
"Keep this up and you two will need to rent a private dance room." Maria stated.
Malik glared at her.
Of course Altair would marry the one woman who was okay with her husband flirting with him.
"I'm giddy, Maria. I don't know where I would be without either of you. It's just…." Altiar's grip shifted, and his nails are digging into Malik through the layered shirts, "I want to visit Kadar's grave- properly. Through all this, I've never…and it's bothered me, and I want to tell him that we made it."
Maria threads her arms around Altair, and Malik realizes that he has actually pressed back into the man that cost him everything. His arm, his remaining family, his career-
And thinks about what all Altair has brought about. His strength, his family, his career.
"I suggest flowers and a picnic. I buried him somewhere he really liked." Malik murmurs back, and Altair is burying his face into his neck and the three of them swaying together is socially explained as 'the Grandmaster coming to terms that he has a whole lot of paperwork to do the next week'.
….
Leonardo sinks, his legs giving out as Ezio flips upside down and slides down, only just spinning out and nearly wrenching his back and landing on the ground.
"You," Leonardo hisses, lurching forward and dragging the younger man back, "are no longer allowed to use a pole unless it's for your own health, understood?"
"For my bodily health?" Ezio replies cheekily, and it's the boy who came to him with the missing Codex pages that he hasn't seen since this war became so intense and they still have to deal with hiding that damn Apple but they won-
"You've been aiming for a different kind of dance this entire night, haven't you?" Leonardo groaned.
"Well, it was clinched for me that I didn't want to spend another moment without you when Desmond told me about breaking a broom over a certain Borgia's head?"
Leonardo tenses, then relaxes.
"You do realize that if you stray from me, you aren't getting a second chance."
"Amico mio, why would I stray? I am a kept man."
…
Shaun twists, and everything is going way to fast, and Desmond is right there, and oh god-
"Alright, you two, that's enough break dancing before one of you actually collides with the other. Shaun, I take back every crack I've made about historians. You are more than just information central."
Shaun reclaims his glasses from Rebecca and pushes them up.
"Well, I think that would be pertinent to keeping my job, now isn't it?"
Desmond looks between them, obviously confused. He doesn't have much longer to be confused as Shaun drags him away to dance upright with the rest of the crowd.
4. WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOUR CHARACTER/S MET ALTAIR? (CHARACTERS? DRAW YOURSELF INSTEAD)
Altair twitched. There was a girl, and she was leaning into Malik's personal space, and Malik wasn't chasing her away. That was his spot, damnit!
Malik looked up.
"Oh, Altair, you wouldn't believe it, but while her Arabic sucks, she can speak and write Espanola! Along with a few map making skills, she's very handy to have around. Is your hand injured? You're twitching your fingers."
"I'm fine, brother." Altair said as evenly as he could.
I ducked behind Malik. Success in getting Altair into a jealous rage! Another check on my 'Things to do before I die' list!
I peek over Malik at Altair.
….and I suspect I really shall die.
5. LE GASP! YOU'VE BEEN SUCKED INTO A WORMHOLE AND BLASTED INTO 1191AD. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
"Malik." The girl croaked. Then she pointed to herself. "Kadar ki'en."
Malik kicked the ink pot over in his scramble to see if the girl's eyes were really blue. The blue his brothers were.
Altair made a vicious movement at Malik's turned back. He had finally gotten he brat killed so he would be out of his way, and here was some girl claiming to be Kadar, or to have known Kadar, or-
"I think that Apple is messing with me." Malik croaked out. His knees gave way, and he clung to the female version of his late brother.
I smirk at Altair and ran my fingers through Malik's hair. Altair mimed chucking a throwing knife at me.
6. OH NOES! YOU HAVE BEEN CPATURED BY TEMPLARS! How do you plan to escape from Abstergo?
Like every cliché movie, I plan to use the duct works!
….now, how do I run up walls again?
7. Obligatory shipping question! Do you have a favorite ship?
Three of them. All yaoi. And all unrequited. (smirk)
"What do you want, brother?" I snap, tracing lines that some idiot had managed to copy the city from the west side when the marker clearly said north.
"Safety and peace, Malik."
I refrain from snarling, because this one time Altair is not the source of my problems, even if he did land my in this position.
Altair stops and looks over my work.
"Malik, I think you need to rest."
"No."
"But if you just change the marker to read west, you don't have to recopy the entire map."
My quill ceases to scratch on the parchment. I have just wasted three hours, an inkpot, and a beautiful morning because I had to make the map perfect, instead of seeing the easy solution.
And may I point out that it is the idiot who trusts his sense of direction rather than a map that saw the easy solution?
Yes, my pride is smarting.
I dip my quill into the inkwell and change the marker that I am copying from, wondering what I will do with two copies of the city. Ah, well, aside from wasting my precious supplies of scrolls, at least I have a back up copy.
"Perhaps some food?" Altair offers, standing in a relaxed stance.
"You know where the storage room is." I grumble, stacking the parchments to dry and pulling the work I had planned to do towards me.
I miss the frown on Altair's face.
"I meant with me."
"In that case, no, I am busy, novice. And unless you are here on business, I suggest you rest and be on your way."
Altair's face doesn't betray, his stance doesn't shift, but he pauses for a moment longer, before leaving for the outer courtyard.
The thought that if he had stayed any longer Malik might have talked to him again stalks him longer than the sun in the sky.
….
"Hello, Desmond, go away."
"I say goodbye, you say hello."
"That's 'You say yes, I say no / You say stop and I say go, go, go/ Oh, no / You say goodbye and I say hello / Hello, hello' and quite butchering the Beatles." Shaun finished, eyes never leaving the computer. He missed Lucy's disgruntled scowl and the slump in Desmond's shoulders.
…..
"Ezio! I have finished another project! Do you want to have lunch with me?"
"Sorry, Leonardo, I have work to do."
"Ah, that's okay, another time!"
The door closed.
"Another time…"
8) Draw the crackiest pairing you can think of!
The ink stains on Leonardo's hands and the Codex pages. No seriously, as an artist, Leonardo breathes life into what he creates, and the Codex pages were around the Apple, so what if residue from the Apple brought the Codex and the Ink Stains together?
Leonardo stood in the corner behind Ezio, both staring at the parchment entagling with the ink that was floating in midair above the cleared space where Leonardo had just been working.
"Ezio..."
"Si?"
"I think you should get rid of that Apple soon."
"...si."
9) ROFL! You know what else is fun? Crossovers! Draw a crossover…of DOOM!
"Gasp! You mean that Altair is Galactic Pretty Boy! NO!" Robert de Sable cried out, staring at the smug, white rob wearing Arabic.
"He'll destroy our operations! He must be stopped!"
Wrapped up in the bubble protecting him from Zero Time, Malik huffed. "Will you get over here and rescue me already, novice?"
10) All done now tag someone!
Anyone who wants to! Just go see the ones at Deviant art first!
Author's Note:
*In Shakespeare's time, the guest was given the best bed in the house. That is why that line is in there.
Also, a picture is worth a thousand words. This is evidence. 3,516
The cross over is Star Driver.