Reverie
Author: Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)
Genre: General/Friendship/Adventure
Rating: K+
Timeline: Assassin's Creed III/Liberation
Written: 7/25/2012
Finished: 8/1/2012
Characters: Aveline de Grandpre
Summary: ACIII-era drabbles centralized on Aveline in abstract situations.
Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed III, and all things related to the franchise, is property of Ubisoft.
Authors Note: So there's some interesting talk going on in the Ubisoft forums about the specific age of Aveline when she encounters Ratohnhaké:ton in Assassin's Creed III; There's a lot of speculation that because she joins earlier than he (1759), she is, logically, the elder of Connor (awesomesauce) and would probably be a forty-some year old woman when they meet once he's in the thick of things. Not sure how that works without specific DOBs, but, if their speculation turns out to be right, I'd like see how that is handled by the writers. Of course, there's off chance I'm getting all excited for nothing, but that's what headcanon is for.
Aveline had little to say of Ratohnhaké:ton the first time she met him; he was no novice, of that much was certain. The slant of his shoulder and the incline of his head expressed more to her than a simple words could ever say. Like her, he was lost at the crossroads of a parentage that exiled to both their birthright and the invaders that claimed a shrinking environment as their own. Strays only a mother could love and a father could not be seen with even under the best of circumstances.
She left him little to work on in regards to herself, her intentions vague and left to interpretation. Whether or not she was Templar or an assassin true to the creed; should he find Agate, then perhaps the truth would revealed to him, but even her teacher was a secretive man. She could not pry anything from him if he didn't want her to learn it. However, given his obvious standing as a male, Aveline suspected Agate would be lenient.
The city was her home and she felt closest to her high above the swarming populace of denizens and soldiers crawling across the cobblestones for runaways, food and courtesans. Superstitions shook them; she used them to her advantage, slipping in and out of the shadows when she struck them down. Quick as a cat, a headhunter they called her, the ones who knew no better. An assassin to the enemy she hunted by command of the order.
Isolation from those she knew was inevitable by production of her dedication, her family long dead and Agate the only companion to speak of, Aveline wondered if all she would have left was the city and the air she breathed. Fooling with the tomahawk at her waist reminded her of the lost promise, one that hardly held any weight for her now.
