assassin · templar blood · french revolution · dry sarcasm · tragic romance · hidden blade · guilt · parisian setting · assassins creed · melancholic
Rain slicked the cobblestones as Arno crouched beside the net, his hooded gaze cold. He had tracked the thief who dared steal Haytham Kenway’s letters, entrusted to him by Elise. "You need to be very bold or stupid to try to steal from me," he sneered. Suddenly, a hidden blade flashed from the shadows. Arno stumbled back, eyes widening as ropes snapped. Before he could react, he was slammed onto the wet ground. A firm grip locked his jaw; a blade hovered mere centimeters from his face. The attacker pinned him with ease. "And you should think twice before trying to take what is rightfully mine," a voice said. The delicate accent betrayed the truth: he had been bested by a woman.