The first few months after his 'death' Rory had run for his life. He was pursued by a team of cut-throats known world wide by the Creed. Templar employed, obedient, hostile, known for their love of carnage and chaos. For the first two months he hid away, and left his family with the shattered remains of his ship & his death that lay heavy on their minds. And now, some two years later he knew he couldn't hide any longer.
The faire they'd all loved so much was in its last couple days of celebration. It was only just a few blocks down from him. Gloomy clouds loomed overhead, threatening to rain, but no smell of rain lingered in the air, and you could hear the festivities down the street alive with laughter and joy. No one was afraid of rain, let alone thought it was going to rain.
It was quiet aside from the echoing sounds of the faire, the roof tops were a lovely place to think at times, as well as keep away from the crowds going in and out of the festival. Behind him the quiet clinking of the shingles on the roof could be heard, footsteps, and they were coming closer. Rory glanced over his shoulder just enough to make out who was there and how many. Two figures stood there, he didn't even need to know who they were, he recognized them, Templars.
Quickly he took off in a run across the rooftop, he could hear their footfalls behind them. Rory kept running at a quick pace, the edge of the rooftop coming up fast. Quietly he pushed off the roof top, lunging across the gap between houses. Landing he didn't miss a beat, the jump wasn't far enough to warrant a roll. and he kept running, lunging over a a small chimney. The smoke parting around him as he jumped over. He didnt dare to look back behind him, it would only slow him down and could cause mishap.
The two sets of footsteps behind him were now one. Only one followed, the other had broken off clearly planning to flank him.
Rory swallowed roughly, keeping his breathing steady as he ran, jumping over another gap this time dropping and rolling, rolling right back onto his feet and sprinting ahead. The sound of the faire grew louder as he came closer only a few more feet.
There was a small tickle against his cheek, a throwing knife sticking deep into the shingles ahead of him. Throwing knives, great, he though to himself and roughly ran down the decline of a roof before dropping down onto a balcony an ran along the top of the railing making it difficult for any more knives to be thrown at him. Arms out he kept himself balanced like a cat on a wall as he ran atop the railing.
Rory jumped from the railing, his foot landing on a pole that stuck out from the wall a colorful flag hanging from it. Pushing off the pole he jumped onto a trellis overhang. Running across it and quickly clambered up a trellis that was built into the wall. Pulling himself back on the roof glancing over his shoulder for only a moment before swallowing roughly, ducking out of the way of another knife being launched at his head from the man below on the trellis.
Rory ran forward, his heart pounding, his instinct telling him the other who had separated from the start and was flanking would be right beside him any moment. Just ahead was the faire. Just at the end of this roof. He could feel them right behind him, he could hear him right behind him. The smell of leather, and blood reached his nose. It made his stomach churn and knot up. Rory took a deep breath and slid down the incline of the roof, coming to the edge he dropped, reaching up to grab the end as he dropped catching himself before falling. Beginning quickly to climb down the wall, only getting a few strange stares here and there as he descended. Touching the ground a sense of relief fell over him, swiftly he walked into a crowd and seemed to just vanish among them.
He looked back up to the roof once safe and out of sight trying catch his breath, removing his hat to cool off, he fanned himself slowly. The two men stood at the edge of the roof, looking over the crowd slowly, trying to pick out where he had gone. One of the men broke off from his partner and disappeared, out of site when he went to the opposed side of the roof, the other remaining atop the roof waiting and watching.
Rory swallowed roughly leaning over taking in a deep breath resting his hands on his knees, it been a long time since he hand to run like that. Standing back up his eyes darted over at the roof, the remaining figure gone, just like that. It made him uneasy. and he quickly made himself scarce. Stalking through the crowded paths, he hoped to find them, find HER. Placing his hat back on it sat low, shading his face despite the gloom in the clouds above. He'd changed in the time that he'd been 'dead'. He walked stiffly, a piece of shrapnel had cut deem at his right hip, it made him walk with a slight limp. His limbs were tanned dark, coated with scars of old & new. And the colors of his clothes were dark; the red sparrow tails adorn with the familiar A of the creed had long since been abandon.
Stalking through the crowd deliberately, hazel eyes darting to the faces, seeing none he knew. He hoped more than anything, that the would be here tonight. Rory had so much to explain. So much to make up for the last two years. He felt like he'd lost an eternity with his family. And he couldn't pretend anymore. He'd find them, one way or another, they were here somewhere, they had to be. A familiar calling squawk was heard. Rory quickly glanced around "where are you" he said quietly, a thick Irish accent rolling out of his mouth. A white bird came flying out of the tree's wings a gape and flapped softly. A cockatoo to be more exact. Tints of yellow giving the white bird just the perfect amount of color as he made his way right for Rory. Whom eagerly raised up one of his arms and the cockatoo landed gingerly on his arm. Another calm squawk the bird hopped from his arm to his shoulder turning around. A little foot raised up reaching out grabbing at the air. Rory smiled shaking his head " took you long enough..." he said softly placing his finger in the Cockatoo's foot, that wrapped around his finger, pulling Rory's hand up to his beak were he gently nibbled on the leather glove.
"Always beating me in my races Thomas...I'm going to have to clip those wings so I get a chance to win..." Removing his finger from the cockatoo's grip he reached to the side of the large birds head and began to stroke under the feathers. " Let's find them"
