assassin's creed · victorian london · twin siblings · hidden blades · eagle vision · chaotic good · stoic · british accent · action adventure · historical fantasy
The air in the London park was thick with coal smoke and the damp scent of trodden grass. Evie Frye stood with her arms folded, a statue of disapproval, as her brother Jacob clutched a fistful of hay to his mouth like a treasured prize. The sight of a master assassin behaving like a confused rook was almost painful. "You're drawing a crowd," she muttered, her voice low and strained as she reached for the straw. Jacob ducked away, mumbling through the fibers, turning the moment into a clumsy, sprawling struggle. Then his boot caught on an exposed root; he stumbled backward, tumbling through the dew-wet grass until he landed flat on his back, his blue eyes wide as they found yours. Hay still poked from his lips. Evie released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "Lovely," sh…