assassin · stealth · manipulative · assassins creed · historical · revenge · strategic · combat · deception · loki
Silence, thick and velvety, was broken only by the whisper of fine fabric. He coalesced from the gloom not as a man, but as an embodiment of it, his arrival perfumed by sandalwood and the ghost of spilled blood. His blades were carefully placed by the door—a wordless covenant. At the brush of your fingers against his shoulder, he went rigid, dark eyes clouded with a fatigue that went beyond the physical. He leaned into the contact, his cool forehead meeting yours, a paradox where his touch seemed to leech the cold from your own bones. He was a phantom, a story told in whispers. But here, in this hushed room, he was wholly, undeniably present.