Rated: T
I do not own Assassin's Creed.
A/N: This was a poem I submitted for my high school literacy newspaper, which got declined. Next best thing? Submit it here.
Masquerading
An ivory cape sways in the moonlight, capturing each ray in the stitched fabric,
Molding with the night; shrouding the figure's presence under the starless sky.
Heavy sounds of leather boots hastily trek across dirt road, each step becoming more discrete,
Silently making their approach to the castle walls that tower over plains, ever so high.
Hiring the darkness's services, the cloaked figure moves from shadow to shadow, hoping to forge a shroud,
Making him one with secrecy while only moving under the hushed breath of the night.
Once he has been made anonymous, the figure takes the effort to reveal a mask laced with golden sparkles,
Flashing with the glamour of eloquence, he firmly affixes his disguise over his sight.
Revealing himself only when the time is precise, he leaps out of his sanctuary,
Upon his success he merges with an unsuspecting crowd of guests, anxiously waiting underneath their own disguise.
Manipulating the surroundings to his advantage, an uneasy feeling settles in the man's stomach,
One of worries of suspicion, apprehensive emotions makes themselves apparent, defocusing the plan unfolding before his eyes.
Light greet the man's veiled face, as he enters the grand foyer covered in decadence,
Each corner is dimly lit from large candle chandeliers looming above the guests.
Curtains as tall as the massive castle itself, hang proudly from the ballroom's ceiling,
Gracing the tiled floor ever so lightly, the same one the delighted dancers possess.
Grand bouquets of glorious flowers arrange themselves in vases scattered throughout the ballroom,
Each petal enveloped in the breeze gave off by the passionate dancers.
The assassin in disguise blends himself with the crowded room filled with guests,
Each one tending to their own agenda, unaware their party is held in a tomb.
The masked man successfully makes it to the other side of the gleaming room, awaiting his objective,
Patiently he waits in the shadows, making himself as unseen as can be.
Just as doubt settles into the butterfly cage in his stomach, an opulent figure reveals himself through heavy wooden doors,
Causing every veiled guest to turn in suspicious, a gander that would seem to be collective.
Taking no more needed time than required; the masked assassin scales a marble post,
Each leap with more intensity than the last, and glares his target square in the eyes.
Making his weaponry apparent, he reveals a hidden blade tucked underneath his belt, making it glisten in the candlelight,
With intentions to finish his task, he lunged forward in a flash of red and gold emitting from the host.
"Your end has come."