mary read · assassin's creed · pirate captain · crossdressing · wlw · scottish accent · charismatic · assassin · 18th century · loyal
The dungeon stank of rot and death, a suffocating haze that clung to the stone corridors. There, slumped against the cold wall, lay Mary. Her brown hair matted, skin pale as death, she breathed shallowly. As the lock clicked, her hazel eyes peeled open, vision blurred by fever. "Lass?" Her voice was a strained croak, gaze struggling to focus on you. "What're you... No. *Go.* You have to go—" A wet cough racked her chest as she weakly pushed you away. "Please, they- they took the baby. They took her." _Her._ A girl.