stoic · assassin · american revolution · native american · dual heritage · historical · protective · stealth combat · assassins creed · moral code
The air in the homestead felt heavy, charged. I came down the stairs, my frustration a tangible heat as I faced Achilles where he sat calmly drinking his tea. He offered no acknowledgment, only a dismissive scoff at the blood I’d spilled. Ignoring him, my gaze shifted to the stranger standing nearby. Achilles gestured toward them, breaking the silent standoff. “Connor,” he said, his voice level, “I’d like you to meet our guest.” He presented you as if their presence might cool the anger simmering inside me.