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Shadows: Whisper | Assassin's Creed

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(I've stood at attention for a little while. Both modern and Civil War attention. /military brat)

 

Abe shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. "I'unno. Dun really like t' d' much'a anythin'. 'aven't 'ad th' time t' figure 'at out." She looked around, embarrassed at the fact that she really didn't know herself as well as he seemed to. There was nothing to know about. "M' life's been borin' 's hell. I lived a few years in Scotland, 'en I 'as taken t' be a slave fer th' men 'board th' ship we man. An' I been aboard 'er fer all 'ese years. Ne'er left 'er. Couldn't. But... Ye dun figure much 'bout yerself bein' cooped up yer own mind like 'at." She looked around some more, struggling with herself. Trying not to make eye contact, she bit her lip anxiously.

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[i've stood at attention when I used to take Tae Kwon Do.]

 

Robb

 

Robb looked up at the sky, grinning up at the stars. Was it him, or were the stars spinning? They were so pretty, especially when they were like this. "Yeah. And I know exactly how to get into it. Wait here." he grinned some more and bounded away. Creeping down below deck, he walked to the barracks. The creaking and bumping of the ship was tormenting at first, but then as you got used to it, it was comforting. He crept close to the beds, trying to spot an officer. Ah! The blond head of hair signaled that Garrett was sleeping quietly on his bunk. Well... Not so quietly. His snoring could wake up a bear. Crawling over, he pulled away Garrett's shirt and saw that the key to the storage was tied around his neck with a rope. All officers had sstorage keys, but he chose Garrett because he was the heaviest sleeper. Robb grabbed hold of it and attempted to rip it off, but the rope was too thick. Slurring a curse, his slowed mind tried to think what he could do to get the key off. It was too small to slip it off of the man, so he had to cut it. He fumbled in his pouch for his knife, something that he obviously had, being half a surgeon and all. In a second he sliced it, almost cutting Garrett's throat in the process. There! He had it. Rushing back upstairs, he stalked to the storage room and put the key in. After opening the door, he looked inside. There were only two bottles of whiskey left. Oh well, Ceto was bound to buy more. Grinning, he whistled, calling Mary over.

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[i have never stood at attention. I couldn't focus long enough to.

I love it when work is slow enough for me to post.]

 

Mary

 

Mary swayed with the waves of the boat, peacefully drunk. However it was almost too much and she had to sit down. Did she mean what she had said about Robb being cute? Maybe she had, then what? Mary knew that sometimes people didn't remember things too well the next day. There was something else too, something about a head ache? Before she could recall what it was, Robb whistled for her. She moved to the store, silently amazed that Ceto still had a couple bottles of rum. "I wonder what'll happen if we chug these? I mean, these get Ceto drunk. Haha, this'll be so sweet!" Mary exclaimed. She wondered how long she could go before doing even stupider things than merely drinking Ceto's whiskey. She took one and offered the other to Robb, "bottoms up!" she said before uncapping hers and doing what she had said she would, holding the bottom in the air. Whiskey tasted pretty bad actually, but Mary didn't care. He warm feeling in her stomachs was growing and she felt lie she could do anything.

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[Lol, never worked an hour in my life. I'm planning on getting work in Gamestop for a month that I have vacation though.]

 

Robb

 

Robb grinned as he watched Mary walk in. In the dark, her hair seemed blacker than usual, and her brownish eyes seemed alluring. Well, that could be the drink. He never felt like this before. He felt like he could fly. However, he knew that Garrett would be in deep censorkip.gif if they depleted the rest of Ceto's stores, which what he was planning to do. He grabbed the bottle and tipped it up against his lips, drinking deeply from the bottle. He chugged and chugged and chugged and chugged... Until he was dizzy and so, so warm... The whole room was spinning and there were two of Mary. Oh God, this was great! He felt aloof and free. Maybe he should get drunk more often. "'s alllllll goood..." he hiccuped, swaying in his place. Maybe he should sit down... He staggered to one of the boxes that was packed to the top with wooden planks and other objects. Plopping his rear end on the edge, he laid down and took the other bottle, the remaining one. He would drink half of it and then he would give the other half to Mary. He chugged down half of the brown liquid and held out the rest to her. Now... Now he was drunk. Very, very, very drunk. "'er'" he laughed, purring and relishing in the warmth that had spread over his belly, his chest, and his face.

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((Ah. Camping was good. Sometimes, you just gotta get outdoors.))

 

Cullen streaked his chin in thought for a moment. He was plotting. Sorta. "'ow about after dis, we 'ead out and do whateva' 'ye can think? 'Ye may not know much about 'yerself but we got time and a whole town 'ta look about. There ain't no time like now." He slid out his flask and took a sip, noticing it was on it's last pair of legs. Estimating how much he had by listening to the whiskey swirl around, he held it out to Abe. "Now 'den. Oi know 'ye Scots can't 'ppreciate a good whiskey when 'ye see one. But would'ya care 'ta finish 'dis one off?" He asked with a grin. "'Tink 'he might ye surprised." He set it on the table in front of her. He was thinking about what she said. About having been brought on the ship to pleasure the men. Slavery was one thing, and something he couldn't solve. But raping slaves was another, and he wouldn't hear of it. He'd had to talk to the Captain and inquire about that.

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(Wish I could feel the same. I'm too much of a homebody.)

 

Abe rolled her eyes and shrugged. "'t on't be very interestin'." She thought to herself about the town. Now where would they go? Where would two horribly out-of-place pirates go in a little French town? She could show him the house, but she was sure Uncle Jean-Paul would object to such a thing. Still, it was where she'd found herself... Ooh! Perhaps the library? She didn't know how to read very well, but it was quiet. The pirates left her alone there. Who'd want to be in a room filled with musty books when there were brothels around? Good chance to catch a break from the young one's whining... Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Cullen's voice once more. Reaching out and grabbing the flask, she spun it in her hand and felt the amount of liquid that was left. Looking at Cullen for a second and giving him a face that said, "this is really gonna end poorly for me...", Abe tipped up the bottom and took a long swig until it was gone. The warmth spread through her throat and belly, but it really didn't even begin to fog up her thoughts. She'd been pretty well desensitized to alcohol as a child with the seafaring men giving her drink to slow her significantly, as well as being bred to a line of real Scottish folk. "Lacks th' subtlety o' m' whisky," the woman remarked nonchalantly as she place the flask back down on the table and slid it back over to Cullen.

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Mary

 

She shook her head at the second bottle. There were two of Robb and that was time to stop. She staggered over to Robb, falling over once she reached him, laying on his lap. "Whoops, hehe... I 's fallen on yer lap..." she smiled, hiccuping. "I don' think I wanna leave... ish like a warm pillow. Mmm... Robb?" she slurred out the last part, "would ya mind if I kished ya? I jus' wanna try it once... cuz I wanna see. I wanna see if ya taste like rum..."

 

[Going to breakfast, or rather Brunch because it's almost ten... >_>]

Edited by RainDash

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((It clears my head. I don't have much to do but work and teach, so it gives me some perspective every now and again.))

 

"Bah. If I was worried about excitement, I would of picked a bar fight. If I want interest, I'll get to know someone. It's what I'm doing now, anyways. Nobody's boring, Abigail. Everyone has some stories." Cullen said with a smile as he slipped the flask into his robes once again. "Ah. But subtle whiskey is boring whiskey. You want one that knocks you off your feet. Leave subtlety to the wines and craft beers."

 

((I've gotta sit down and do some HW.

You could skip them through their meal.))

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Robb

 

There was a light weight on his legs, and he grinned when she started to speak. She was warm and soft. So warm and soft. "'s okay. I like ya there. Very nice and warm." he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, sighing. It was very quiet but he felt like he was upside down. Well, he could get used to that, couldn't he? Just be drunk all of the time. That would be nice. Suddenly, Mary asked if she could kiss him. Kiss him? As in press her lips against his? As in tasting her? That would be nice. "Mmm, please do, you're a pretty lady..." he said, grinning and tipping back his head again. But the pretty lady would have to do more than kiss him. Maybe for longer periods of time?

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(Okie dokie. You'll probably have to skip soon, guys, if for no other reason than to stop my nosebleed. wink.gif)

 

Abe shook her head and rolled her eyes. Just a second before she burst into a lecture on the prowess of whisky that whiskey just didn't possess, the food came and she settled for stuffing her face with food. After the food was done, the man came to collect their plates and she wiped her face with a sleeve and stood up to help. "Merci beaucoup, oncle. Je vais organiser pour vous. Un peu, sîl vous-plaît! Et je vais visiter chez nous." Carrying the plates that she had readily stolen from her "uncle" to the kitchen to wash them off, the man rubbed the back of his head and smiled after her. "Elle est très travailleuse, hien?" he murmured to himself. Turning to face Cullen, the man chuckled slightly. "My English is broken, young man, but I will manage to speak to you." The man sat down where Abe had been sitting and sighed, suddenly looking very grave. "She was very young when she first came here. I think perhaps...how do you say...ten? Yes. Ten years old. She looked very small and cold, with a blanket wrapped around. How do you look upon a girl so small and not take pity upon her? Je ne sais pas! I took one look at this girl and I said to myself, "Jean-Paul, est-ce que tu es un monstre?" And I said, "non, monsieur!" So I took her in and gave her food and a shelter. And I left my shop here to my apprentice and went to the ship with her. And I stayed until we docked here again she she was maybe fifteen and she said I could go back. But her good uncle Jean-Paul lets her come and eat and sleep here when she returns." Turning back to look at her nostalgically, the man sighed once more. "I don't know what she will do when I die, though. I am very old to still be alive, you see? Very old. But now I do what I can for her..." He cleared his throat a little and then turned away, coughing and sputtering. Hearing this, Abe put the dishes down and grabbed a rag and a bucket of semi-murky water. Setting it down on the floor nearby, she helped him up with furrowed eyebrows. "Qu'est-ce que c'est, oncle?"

"Ah, ça m'est égal!"

Not quite convinced but well-trained enough to know not to pry, Abe nodded. "D'accord."

"Oui. Au revoir!

"D'accord, d'accord! Je vais! Au revoir." Turning to Cullen, she smiled faintly. "Sorry 'bout 'at. We're goin', 'en?"

 

(Translation: Thank you very much, uncle. I'm going to organize for you. A bit, please! And I'm going to visit our house.

She is very hardworking, huh?

I don't know!

Jean-Paul, are you a monster?

No, sir!

What is it, oncle?

Ah, it doesn't matter.

Alright.

Yes. Goodbye.

Alright, alright. I'm going! Goodbye.)

Edited by Mousia

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((xd.png))

 

Cullen's brow raised as she went off to clean their dishes. He'd enjoyed his snail, contrary to his ecpectations. The wine had paired well and had left a good inpression on him for all of France. He heard 'oncle' which was close to the English 'Uncle', and was surprised again. He hasn't even realized. The man day down and spoke to him, and he listened and nodded. So that's why she called him uncle. They didn't bear much resemblance, not that nieces tended to look like their uncles. She returned at last and stood up, pushing his chair in. "Aye. We shall." He turned to the door and opened it, waiting for her to follow him out. "So 'ow about it? What oi said earlier. We could go about and do whatever ye' feel." He said. They still had some daylight to burn. "Unless 'ye wish 'at head back?"

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Abe followed Cullen and shrugged, not really sure if she would know what to do even if she was a more vivacious girl. "I dunno 'at yer suggestin', but I'm sure yer a g'boy. Too much ova g'boy t' suggest somethin' so darin'. Aye?" She winked and shoved him playfully, though she was a strong girl from years of working aboard the ship with the massive cannons and probably jabbed him kind of hard with her shoulder. "Ei'er way, th' sun's goin' down in 'bout an hour an' I wanna show ye some o' m' store o' scotch. I might show ye a thing o' two."

 

(Distracted but didn't want to hold things up too long. Sorry.)

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Cullen laughed lightly as she shoved him. "Sounds good." He said, as he did, he offered his arm bent at the elbow, and it was more of a second nature than a conscious point. "About Scotch? Oi doubt 'dat. You can try all 'ye like." He didn't quite put two and two together there, even though if he was on hi game he might have picked up undertones from her wink. As they strolled back to the ship, he looked about the town which was very beautiful in the evening light. He glanced at Abe, who looked more striking than she had earlier, in the begginings of evening light and his chest jumped.

 

((It's cool. There, I even put them on the move for you.))

Edited by Dusset

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Abigail took his arm willingly and strolled along with him, occasionally pointing out a landmark or two as they passed. When they boarded the ship, she quickly lead him belowdecks, hearing crazed laughter from the two cabin kids and just chuckling at it. "Just two drunk kids...," she remarked rather soberly, sinking into Italian as her habit dictated when aboard the ship. "I suppose it's okay to look the other way, then. Let them have their fun before Ceto strikes 'em down." Leading Cullen into her cramped quarters, she motioned for him to sit on the bunk while she unlocked her little trunk of keepsakes which was duly hidden. Most of the space was taken up by alcohol. All the other things that really mattered to her were on her person. Inspecting several bottles of whisky, she finally chose one and nodded approvingly. "Here. You should smell it first. Let yourself feel the warmth before even taking a sip."

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Cullen followed her up to the ship and below the decks. "Aye. We aren't all that much older, mind you." He said, likewise transiting from language to language as she did. Walking into her quarters, he momentarily wondered why he didn't have his own, but perhaps it was seniority and not position, which he was okay with. He sat right on her bunk and watched as she took out a chest. She handed him a scotch and he uncorked it. Taking a strong whiff, he nodded in appreciation. He almost didn't want to admit that. He sipped at it and it became a whole mouthful. Strong. But not knock you off your bar stool strong. It had base. It had aroma. It had an aftertaste that you wanted. He'd never admit that. "It's pretty good. I like mine, but this is a fair comparison, I'll give it that." He said with a smirk. It was hard not to say this, likely long-aged, scotch was better than his three year whiskey.

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Abe found it difficult to hold back her creeping smile. She could tell he liked it more than he wanted to let on. Well, his attempt at hiding his opinions had failed. Miserably. She could see through that poorly constructed front. "See? I knew it. I. Knew. It." She grinned widely and poked him playfully. "You like my scotch! You like my scotch!" the woman called out. "I win!" she chanted playfully, dancing around the stiflingly small room. She did that for a little while before tripping over a nail that stuck up out of the floorboards and landing facefirst onto the floor. And for a moment or two, she just laid there. And then she laughed. And laughed. It was so impossibly funny that she couldn't even process it. Sitting up, she took a swig of scotch to ease the pain and resumed her laughing. "You still like my scotch!"

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Cullen reddened as she figured it out. Yeah, yeah. He only gave her a smirk that spoke 'whatever' until she tripped. He paused and waited for a response in case she's hurt herself, but she started laughing, and it became contagious. He was laughing a her, at first, but then he was laughing because of the good nature of the room. His laugh was whole-bellied and he gave in, drinking more of her scotch. "Aye. You win. I like your scotch. But that's it. Only good thing to come from Scotland." He laughed. Drinking more, he could feel the waves of warmth and comfort travel slowly up to the tips of his ears and outwards towards his nose, then make a u-turn and head South to his belly and finally rest at his toes. He wasn't drunk in any sense of the word, as his tolerance was ridiculously high from near constant light consumption, but he was... Off. Like a stack of books when one in the center is sticking out just a little bit even thought normally it would line up right. So he said, "Then again. I suppose there are two things I like that came from Scotland. Both of which I discovered that I did, today." He drank and raised his eyebrows as if to silently say 'your move'.

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Abigail quickly sobered up and narrowed her eyes at him, clearly thinking hard. What to say, what to say...? Did she have a good comeback? Not really... But she did have questions. "You have been learned a lot about me today, haven't you? But what about you? All I know is your name, where you come from, and that you've got a good fighting spirit about it." Standing up, the dreadlocked woman looked at him seriously. "What made you clam up? Or am I just that talkative? Suppose I've been quiet too long. Cannons don't make good conversation, after all." She raised her eyebrows inquiringly. Prying into his past seemed not to faze her in the least. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the discomfort she believed it might cause him. Always good to see a man stumble every so often. But perhaps that was just her sadism coming through, as it sometimes did.

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Cullen thought a moment and said, "That seems only fair. I do suppose, however, that it's entirely because I've asked all the questions today, and all you've given me is answers in return." His response was fairly philosophical even though he hadn't really meant for it to be. He thought another moment and said, "Well. I come from a little town on the Western coast of Ireland. I grew up a farmer until my father moved us to Germany. Parents were killed over some dispute, land I think, and I was stuffed in some orphanage in the middle of the countryside. Didn't like it much so I ran off. Got picked up by an assassin after a brawl with a templar and got transferred back to Ireland. Training went by pretty fast considering I was much older than when it normally starts. I even had an apprentice four years later." He paused when he mentioned that and covered it quite deftly with a swig. "Things went on and I decided to move. Learned italian and jumped on the next ship to Rome." to escape memories of my apprentice, he left unsaid. "And now I'm here on this boat, in your room, talking to you." He set down his flask and added, "Was that what you were looking for?" He had no problems talking of his past. He had nothing to hide and only things to forget. Though, he had completely left out the part about being groomed to take the position of Mentor. No reason to talk of things that never happened, right?

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"But that ain't all. They don't train any old apprentice with such vigor. You... You were important. You were special." She took a quick swig to ease the throbbing in her head from the fall, though the cogs were turning all the time. "You were supposed to be an authority. If not a master or Mentor, then at least someone high in the hierarchy." She cracked her knuckles absentmindedly before going on. "From down at the bottom of the barrel, we learn to see what y'all think is invisible. It's our own little trade. No one wants us 'round for any more than heavy labor. What use is there for us to go on as naive little sheep, herded easily and willingly into whatever pen the higher-ups want us to go in. No. We watch and we wait. We see more than we're supposed to, but that's nothing new." She sat down next to him and looked at him real close, taking in every detail. "Look at me. A little slave girl, eh? A little slave girl who pushes cannons. I'm the lowest of the low, yet here we are. And I have to say, I don't mind being here, despite how very different we are."

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Cullen smiled. "Very observant." He said. "Story for another time." He clasped her hand with his as she spoke of how she saw through it all. How she was the lowest of low. "You're wrong you know. I'm just a farmhand who was in the right place in the right time." He said. He looked right into her eyes and continued, "But it doesn't matter. Because we're the same. Well, not really. But we're on the same level, you and I. We made a promise. We're part of a brotherhood. A fraternity. We have our own level, outside social class. Assassin. Where we came from could matter less. How we got here matters little. You and I aren't so different. We're even fairly equal on this ship. Playing auxiliary roles with a little commnd." He smiled, laugh lines showing. "I don't care how we got here. I just care that we are. Now."

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(I've stood at attention for a little while. Both modern and Civil War attention. /military brat)

((Standing at attention isn't hard, it's the fact that I had shirt-stays pulling my entire shirt down while I was pushing my neck up to keep my head up. So it made my shoulders sore after a little while))

 

Aero pulled away from Ceto while at the same time trying to push her to a more comfortable, or safer, distance. "Ceto you are drunk. You don't know what you're saying so I'll let it pass, but my answer is no." He said returning to his drink. "As for your friend. What are his sources. How can we be sure we can trust him. Where's he from? What's his name?" He spoke quickly but clearly, he tried, with little effort, to make sure Ceto could follow. He spoke quietly as he asked "is he from the Creed," he glanced between Ceto and the man whom she had been seated with moments before. He was always cautious, too many times has he seen or heard of Assassins being stabbed in the back by those who claimed to have good information, but in the end turned out to be an enemy.

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"Aye. Gotta be observant when nobody tell you censorkip.gif." After listening to Cullen talk some more about how they were equal, she sighed and nodded along. When he was done, she leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes, letting the stars that had long before been burned into her memory take their places on her eyelids as she conjured them. "You're right. Now is good." Tucking her feet up into the bed, Abe felt the day's excitement taking its toll on her energy. "You'll stay with me, right? It's cold outside and I want to be warm one night before Ceto makes us work a full day again...," the woman murmured quietly, the words barely escaping her lips. "Stay... You're so warm..."

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Ceto

 

Ceto frowned when Aero pushed him away. Well! "His name is Roberts and he isn't a part of the Creed. Before you can say anything, he can be trusted." she slurred, drinking more from her glass.

 

[bed.

If you guys are sending Cullen and Abe to sleep, wanna skip to the next day?]

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