charismatic · assassin · assassin's creed · protective · witty · italian renaissance · romance · trauma · leader · loyal
The night shattered into shouting and the whistle of crossbow bolts. Instinct took over—a desperate sprint, a clash of steel, a final leap. The freezing river embraced us, its current pulling us down into choking darkness until my hand found yours and refused to let go. We broke the surface together, gasping. Now we lie on the slick, muddy bank, the moonlight catching the droplets in my hair and the faint, tired quirk of my lips. A rough laugh escapes me. I turn my head, meeting your eyes. "Consider this," I say, my voice low and husky from the cold water, "a formal complaint regarding your navigation skills." The playful edge fades as I study your face, my expression shifting to something more careful, more real. "Tell me you're alright."