okay so this is the last introduction, yall wanted connor, here you go
There was no fucking way he was going to eat a raw fish.
Desmond was currently swimming circles in what he found out earlier that day was the Seine river, fretting over how he was going to get a meal. Obviously he could just go and… eat a fish. But he pushed that out of his options quick because thats fucking disgusting and he could get sick or something. Also he didn't have any way to catch a fish, his only previous history being nosing around in Connors mind as he caught the slimy bastards.
This left the only option being, well, up.
Up to shore that is, where all the scary foreign people are that yell at him when he steals clothes are.
Okay, all he had to do was just… be a bit more sneaky, right?
Desmond swam skeptically to shore, repeating the actions of drying off his tail, grimacing as they melted into legs, and wobbling to his feet. He was sure that he's never going to get over the whole tail to legs thing. Or legs to tail that is either.
Ah, back to square one, ass naked standing on a beach. Well, this time it was a lot later, more so dusk than what looked to be mid day earlier.
He took a shaky breath to calm his ass down and stuck to the shadows near the wall, at least he had some kind of hiding or whatever. Honestly it was better than nothing.
Now…some clothes would be nice.
He squinted his eyes over the sunset glare and saw some commoners walking around the beach, one lagging slightly.
He was just going to have to… knock him out, or something like that.
Oh my god he really hoped they didn't look back and see him, a naked hobo, stealing their friends clothes.
Desmond flicked into eagle vision, humming happily when it still worked. This would make things much easier. The three pedestrians glowed a warm blue, signaling that they probably won't fight back or have any weapons on them at all.
Ugh thinking about that made him think he was gonna mug them or something.
….Well he basically wa- shit they're getting away.
Desmond mentally slapped himself for thinking too much about stealing clothes from someone, focusing instead on getting to the group of fading blue people.
All it took was a headlock and a hand over the mouth for desmond to knock the lagging one out and drag him to the shadowy area. The seemingly endless ruckus up on the streets drowned out the muted yelling and kicking, so the friends didn't even notice.
God fucking damn it Desmond don't pity everyone you knock out, he'll be fine, Desmond'll be fine, he just won't have clothes and Desmond will.
I mean, he probably has clothes at home anyway, and poor Desmond doesn't even have a home let alone clothes in said home.
Either way, Desmond was now fully clothed in some weird smelling, loose clothing, and was browsing the streets idly. I mean window shopping was pretty fun when you had no idea what the stores were at all. It was almost like he was a kid again. Well, actually no, seeing that he wasn't locked up in a farm being taught to kill things.
Aren't childhood memories fun?
Desmond made his way easy enough around the ever so active streets of Paris, making sure to blend when blending was necessary and even steal when the option showed up. He racked in a good amount of the places currency without getting noticed, though it was pretty useless with him not knowing at all how it worked or how much he actually had. Hopefully it was enough for some food.
While counting the various coins, Desmond made the obvious mistake of trying to walk while counting. As you can imagine this lead to a minor setback in his travels.
Or more so, a large one. Desmond swore that whoever he knocked into was as big as a tank, it felt like he walked into a freaking brick wall for heavens sake. It was no surprise that he was on the ground.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was goin-" Desmond blurted out, trying to stand up while not look completely embarrassed, when he looked up at the person he ran in to.
Is that?
It can't be.
No fucking way.
"Um, do I know you?" Connor said quietly, offering the smaller of the two a hand. "I think that I know you from somewhere."
Connor Kenway, in the flesh, standing right in front of him, asking if they knew each other.
Nothing was easy for poor Desmond, was it?
Connor helped him up, but looked to be somewhat uncomfortable with Desmond not answering and just standing there with his mouth open. He couldn't help it, okay? Its not everyday you see your ancestor who is currently supposed to be raising hell in the American Revolution, here, with you, in Paris, France. It was a surprise that Desmond was still standing after all the shit he's dealt with.
Hey, maybe Connor could be an ally? Fuck, Desmond would call anyone who spoke english and wasn't an immediate threat a god send. And hey, Connor is probably in the same boat as him, not knowing what the hell to do in this city.
"Connor, is it? …. My name's Desmond"
It looked like a little spike of realization was happening in Connor's head because his eyes widened slightly.
"Desmond… Miles? I've seen you in my dreams, you're real?"
Wait, what?
