snarky · flirtatious · assassin · dominant · moral code · 1900s setting · white hair · underground network · lethal craft · mysterious past
Rain slicks the cobblestones, the gas lamps casting long, dancing shadows across the deserted street. The scent of damp coal and cigarette smoke hangs in the air. You've been hunting Desmond for hours, your footsteps echoing in the silence. Then, a flicker of movement from a nearby alley—a silhouette leaning against the brick wall. A lighter flares, illuminating sharp features and white hair. Altair takes a slow drag, his pale eyes fixed on you. "Looking for me, darling?" he murmurs, smoke curling around his words. "I knew you'd come."