Sorry it took forever to post the second chapter. I have not written in a super long time, so...bear with me. I would love to get some feedback on the story, and I hope you guys are enjoying it. Also I forgot to say this before, but you guys know I don't own any of the Assassin Creed characters (i.e: Jacob, Evie, Thorne, Green, etc.). Thanks for the support!
Chapter 2
The Rooks spilled out into the clearing of the newly claimed Courtyard, which happened to be a wide expanse of open space consisting of more grass than sidewalk. Lines of skinny wooden trees decorated the quaint scenery in an elaborate striped pattern, and residing in the heart of the clearing – an intricate antique stone fountain sporting a very nude cherub with delicate hands, a curved harp, and a rather smug smile as water sprouted elegantly on either side of his chiseled form. The high-spirited mob surrounded the fountain – all eyes pinned to the Jacob, who planted himself onto a bench and faced his followers with an impish grin.
"Alright boys, what's next on the agenda?"
Silence settled over the group, much to Jacob's disappointment.
'Any second now, and I'll hear crickets,' he mused to himself.
Sighing inwardly, he tipped his head sideways, allowing his stubbled jawline to fall into his palm. Crushing the Blighter's stronghold on the Courtyard today had all been Jacob's idea as well as raiding the cafeteria the day before.
As leader of the Rooks, he knew that most expected any plans of action to originate from his own brilliant mind – which didn't bother him in the slightest since his "loving" sister Evie was usually quick to dismiss his suggestions no matter how "clever" he thought they were. Although it was nice to have people who actually listened to him, it would be equally pleasing for them to offer their own proposals every now and then.
The silence became stifling, and Jacob felt strangled by it. Several of the Rooks made awkward gestures – clearing their throats and scratching their napes under the weight of the unbearable quiet.
Finally, a hand from the crowd shot upwards.
Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. Finally! Giving a subtle jut of his chin, he permitted the volunteer to speak. The lone Rook started in a quivering voice, wincing when it sounded much too loud in the expansive silence, "Um…well, w-we could go for a drink at a pub..."
So much for a potential idea. Jacob grimaced then shook his head. "Does anyone else have any ideas?" His brown hues swept through his gang, and he opened his arms wide, as though vying to draw any solutions from their seemingly empty minds.
That one idea – however awful – seemed to have encouraged the rest of the Rooks to voice their opinions. Shouts leapt from their mouths and mingled together to become a noisy debate. Most of the ideas Jacob ignored – casting them off as completely unfit for his mood or simply uninteresting. That is, until one particular suggestion reached his ears above all the other clamorous outbursts. Like a rejuvenating shot of adrenaline, it propelled the youthful male out of his seat with wide eyes and an extended finger to sift out its source. "You. Step forward."
The gang froze. In fact, when Jacob had had his random flare-up, most of them had been engaged mid-speech. Now, with mouths agape, they returned their attention to the bold Frye as well as the green-suited fellow that rose up to meet him. "What's your name?"
Jacob's head fell to one side as he observed the other. Strands of his dark hair brushed over his forehead, casting a shadow into his burning brown eyes as they scanned shamelessly over the fidgeting gang member. The Rook's face sweltered in uncomfortable heat. As much as he wanted to, he could not break the embarrassing eye contact with his boss, who was saying very little and failed to lower his pointing finger from the space between his eyes since he had stepped up from the uniform crowd. "It's Edward, Mr. Frye." The Rook responded – if only to break the itching awkwardness.
"Eddie~" Jacob crooned, his earlier rigidness melting into an easy half grin that curved his lips. Edward blinked – bewildered – by the unexpected change in his leader's attitude. He had little time to contemplate however, as the enthusiastic twin draped one heavy arm over his scrawny shoulder. Edward wheezed as the breath was easily knocked out of him. In no time at all Jacob had whirled him around to face to sea of blank-faced Rooks (who still had no idea exactly what was going on).
"Would you like to share your outstanding proposal with the class?" Jacob murmured with obvious delight in his eyes. Edward cast him a sidelong look, not quite understanding his excitement. His idea wasn't even that clever. "A party." The words barely fled from the Rook's lips before Jacob intervened, his grin stretched broad.
"A bloody celebration Rooks! The grandest that Whitechapel University has and will have ever had! Stars spun in Jacob's hues. He could see it all now – a party that upcoming students could only dream of living up to. A party worthy for the Frye name. His gang roared their consent, countless fists rising to pound the air in untamed excitement.
"Good day Miss Frye."
"Miss Frye, how are you?"
"Having a good day, Miss Frye?"
The pleasantries were becoming a bother. Evie tucked a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she turned to flash a smile she didn't feel towards one of the random students that had addressed her.
Being respected was one thing, but having someone treat her as though she were ancient china on the verge of shattering was another. It was tiresome, especially when she could easily outplay any foe that challenged her.
She was Evie Frye.
Strong. Intelligent. Determined, Evie Frye.
Yet, people still masked their expressions with polite smiles and gave false and often unnecessary compliments as though one wrong look or honest opinion would have her bawling like a babe at their feet.
Her brows furrowed with frustration.
It wasn't that she wanted people to be rude. After all, she deemed herself as valuable treasure as any other woman of her age. But would it kill someone to treat her as a regular human being?
Apparently not.
A slender leg suddenly wedged itself in Evie's path. Her instincts took immediate action, twisting her body out of harm's way before her mind could catch up.
Her eyes locked onto her target and was met with the snarky smirk of Lucy Thorne – her nemesis in the polls, and perfect example of the treatment Evie didn't want to receive. Miss Thorne sneered at Evie, subtly tucking her leg back into its rightful place before commenting in an innocent tone, "You should watch your step Frye girl."
Encouraging snickers were heard from Miss Thorne's minions – better known as Thorne One, Thorne Two, and Thorne Three (all thorns in Evie's ass specifically). "I suppose it can't be helped. You seem to always get into situations that are over your head. Weren't you home-schooled for most of your life? And you think you can just stride in here and take over SGA?!" Thorne's head tipped back as an incredulous laughter burst from her mouth.
Evie's jaw clenched. It would be all too easy to strike the red-headed witch in her pretty little face.
And oh how Evie wanted to. Her hand curled into a solid fist at her side, but she was keenly aware of the people that had begun to gather around, their senses seemingly able to pick up on the tiniest possibility of a brawl.
Burying her rage, Evie pulled on a tight smile before responding, her tone carefully restrained, "That's exactly what I plan on doing," She closed the space between them, now staring the devil directly in her eyes, "and when I'm finished with you, you'll be licking the dirt off of my boots."
The brief expression of astonishment that passed over Miss Thorne's face was priceless. 'Shame I don't have a camera on me,' the Frye twin thought fondly as she turned on her heels and marched off with head held high. The photograph would have made a lovely accommodation to her prized collectibles.
Evie ducked into a nearby restroom. The earlier adrenaline from her fleeting encounter with Miss Thorn still coursed through her veins. She planted shaking hands on the sink, and stared back into the fiery aqua hues glaring at her from the bathroom mirror.
'Easy Evie. Remember your focus.'
It was true. She and Jacob had been home-schooled by their father for most of their lives. The studies had been rigorous, and Evie had pushed herself to unbelievable limits to make Father proud; Jacob, on the other hand, suffered greatly under their father's iron grip due to his constant rebellion against his teachings, which inevitably led to shouting matches between the two. Once their father passed, Evie remained submerged in his work: dutifully resuming the education she knew he would have aspired her to. It was one of the main reasons that she fought to become president - the other being to free the students of Whitechapel from Lucy Thorne's tyrannic influence.
The faucet creaked in protest as its knobs were turned; chilly water came forth, splashing into her open hands before she washed away the tension in her muscles. She was so caught up with her inner thoughts, she almost missed the conversation occurring within the stalls.
"Could you believe Evie Frye had the guts to stand up to Miss Thorne like that?"
"I know. I had a feeling she was secretly a badass. Will you vote for her?"
"Probably…if only to get good favor from her brother."
Evie blinked away surprise as excited squeals sounded from the stalls.
"Ah yes, her brother – Jacob Frye! What a delicious beauty!"
"I bet he tastes just as delicious as he looks."
'Woah…'
"God I hope so. I just want to feel his large hands all over me. I'd let the handsome bastard do whatever he wanted."
"He could bend me over anytime of the day."
"You know they refer to him as a 'horse' for a reason. I'd love to hold the bulk of him in my hands."
'…What the bloody hell?!'
More girlish squeals.
One glance in the mirror revealed a highly flushed, embarrassed Evie, her eyes like saucers. She hadn't realized how tightly she had been gripping the sink. Smothering heat settled over her like a shroud, and she became distinctly aware of the warmth spreading like ripples between her legs. She couldn't - wouldn't - listen to anymore of this lascivious talk of her brother. Mortified, she made a dash for the exit – the continuous rushing water from the faucet not enough to drown out the ringing in her ears.