Woah, here I am... again. Multitasking! XD And the best part is Shaun's past is in honor of my US History teacher from Liverpool. That's right, he knows more about American history than almost all Americans, I bet. XDDDDDD
Pt. 2, pg. 38
Shaun walked out of his room, pulling on a large, thick leather glove. The pouch at his side was full of raw meat, and the whistle tucked into his shirt was a comforting weight. Rebecca was playing with a raccoon as she worked, feeding it scrapes and wrestling with it with her arm. Lucy had a large Cane Corso at her feet as she finished whatever document she was working on. He scowled at the cat on Desmond's lap.
"It's not my fault he doesn't like assholes," Desmond muttered, noticing the stare.
Shaun scoffed and adjusted the glove.
"What's that for?"
"You will see, Desmond. Patience is a virtue."
"Still have hope?" Rebecca said.
"Unfortunately, yes," Shaun replied.
The prophet had been completely lost when a dog and a raccoon had appeared at their hideout one day, and Rebecca and Lucy had freaked out about them. They were specially trained animals, designed to help the assassins. Several days later, a Snowshoe cat appeared for Desmond. The two had clicked easily, and the cat had instantly taken a disliking for the historian.
"Right, you're in charge of Desmond tonight," Lucy said.
Shaun nodded and flexed his hand in the glove as he was joined by the newest assassin. They walked out of the basement of the house and onto a large ranch. It was a base held by an older couple of assassins, not too far from the old hideout after an earthquake ripped through it. Shaun walked over to the stables and found a single horse, saddled and ready to go. He smiled as he climbed up—with English riding equipment, how kind of them. He spurred the horse into a trot as he met back up with Desmond.
"Why do you insist on riding a horse?" Desmond wrinkled his nose as he set the cat down.
"An incompetent tit like you would never understand the pleasures of riding a horse, and if I must take you out at night, I may as well enjoy myself."
Desmond rolled his eyes, but said nothing more as he started jogging around the area. Shaun sighed as they left the fenced in area and entered the woods. The land this couple had was incredibly large—perfect for a hyperactive child like Desmond. The historian watched the cat running behind the prophet as they enjoyed the cool night.
Shaun had to admit he missed horseback riding. It had been his one present as a child he had insisted on keeping—even if he had to give up his other presents. His father had been proud his son was interested in a higher status activity, since they were so poor. He had made sure Shaun kept with lessons until the day he was kidnapped. His father even sent him to an American University so he could "break free" of the class system in Britain.
"Once you're born into a class here, son, you'll never break out of it," his father had said. "We're sending you to America. I want you to become something greater than me."
He shook his head. He wished he could see his family again.
"What are you thinking about?"
He looked down beside the horse to see Desmond running beside him. He hadn't remembered urging the horse to go faster. Shaun straightened and said, "Home."
Desmond nodded. The cat was running beside him, as happy as a lark.
"You know, I don't know too much about your past."
Shaun looked at him. "I'm not surprised."
"What was your life like?"
He looked semi-surprised at Desmond's request. "I may as well humor you. My father was a poor factory worker. I'm one of two kids. My older brother is now a poor factory worker, too, I presume."
"You never know," he puffed.
"You see, Desmond, England is not the same place as America. Despite the best efforts of the people, once you're born into a class, there is a high probability you will not rise if you are in the poorest of classes."
"Really?"
"Yes. My father agreed, when I came of age, to send me to a university in America. He didn't want me to follow in his footsteps."
"And your brother?"
"Was not smart enough."
Desmond nodded.
"My father had hoped I would succeed in America, rise to the top, and have them move over here. I would have, if I hadn't become involved in this bollocks."
"If you were so poor, how did you manage to get horseback lessons? Those are pretty damn expensive, I've heard."
"My parents were big on image. They scrimped and saved until they could afford them and had both of us take lessons. My brother never enjoyed it."
"So, you're the genius, huh?"
Shaun nodded. "My father was proud."
"And you must be in a lot of debt from the University, right?"
"No, here I am, years later, debt free thanks to a bunch of racist bastards."
"Racist bastards?" Desmond chuckled.
"The assassins' order. Think about it, Desmond. I'm a rare case because of my intellect and Rebecca, but most of the people in the order have deep roots in being assassins."
"The race of assassins," Desmond said, trailing off into thought. "Are you happy working here?"
"As happy as I can be. I got lucky getting to work with you, getting to delve into the depths of history."
The cat meowed, and Desmond slowed down to a walk, scooping up the cat. Shaun slowed the horse. They were silent for a few minutes under the starry night.
"Do you have a pet like the rest of us?"
"I hope so," he said.
"You hope so?"
He nodded. "It hasn't returned yet. I doubt it will."
"Why not? Did it not like you or something?" Desmond had a smug grin.
"Something close. My 'pet' is not a loving animal."
"What?"
"The only bond that exists between us is a bond of trust."
"Then chances are it's gone."
Shaun frowned. "I hope not."
He pulled out the whistle and blew it in a series of short, shrill blasts. The cat hissed in Desmond's arms. Shaun gave it a spiteful smile and repeated the process. Almost immediately afterward, a shriek resounded through the forest. He perked up, looking at the skyline. He blew the whistle again, and from the skyline emerged a large, black outline. His eyes grew wide, and he reached into the bag' pulling out a chuck of meat.
The cat grew interested at the sight, but Shaun stuck his hand in the air and offered it up. The figure dived from the sky and landed on Shaun's gloved hand. He held on tight to the horse's saddle as it drug him back. The horse whinnied and reared, but it seemed to be otherwise calm as the historian held tight. When he righted, the creature on his arm screeched and tore into the meat in his hand. He pulled a strap from the pouch and attached it to the creature's legs.
"I can't blinking believe it."
He looked at the bird on his arm.
"You did come back, although you've lost your jess and bells."
The predator barely spared him a glance before it continued eating.
"Fuck, that's a bird?"
The cat was a hissing, spitting mess. Shaun smirked as he looked at him.
"It's a golden eagle, Desmond. Slightly unusual in falconry."
As it finished eating the piece of meat, he shook his head.
"I must have the laziest bird in the world."
"What do you mean?"
Shaun sighed as he gave the bird another strip. "Remember how I said that the only bond that exists is trust?"
"Yeah…" Both he and the cat were staying away.
"It's the trust that I will provide protection and food, and that she will return to me." He sighed. "If it were under more ideal circumstances, I could have a hood for her, too." He clucked his tongue. "And bells on her legs to hear her."
Desmond raised an eyebrow, slowly crouching down and trying to calm down his cat. The eagle stopped eating and started preening her feathers, not caring about the cat. Shaun reached up slowly and tucked a finger under her chin. She screeched and looked at him.
"I am a damn lucky man to have you, Alexandria."
"That bird is fucking huge."
She fluttered her wings and adjusted her grip on his glove. She gave him a look of superiority and he chuckled, lowering his hand.
"Lucy will be glad you're back to run her Cane Conso with hunting. Are you ready to head back, Desmond? Or keep going?"
Desmond hesitated as he finally got the cat to calm down slightly. "Let's go."
Shaun smirked as he turned the horse around and started heading back. "It's good to have you back, Alexandria."
The stars overhead twinkled gaily as Shaun rode back to the ranch, the eagle perched on his hand and watching Desmond's cat with a predatory look.