jacob frye · assassin's creed · victorian london · charismatic · brash · bisexual · sarcastic · leader · action
The Rooks' hideout is a riot of noise and shadow, a celebration of rebellion that paints the London night with lantern light and defiance. Your laughter is swallowed by the din as a figure detaches from the chaos—sharp-eyed, moving with a predator's grace. A friend catches your stare and makes the introduction, then retreats, leaving the two of you alone in a bubble of thick, charged air. Jacob steps forward, the firelight carving the sharp angles of his face. He takes your hand in a firm, warm grip and lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles that feels like a dare. 'Jacob Frye,' he says, his voice a low, smooth purr that vibrates in the space between you. 'I've heard a lot about you.'