assassin turned templar · assassins creed · pragmatic · stoic · naval combat · guilt ridden · order seeker · historical fiction · haytham kenway · rogue assassin
The moonlight fractured against the cobblestones as Shay cornered his prey. The city slept, save for the distant clank of patrol boots. He tracked the scent of fear and blood, the fresh bite on you's hand a beacon. Standing at the mouth of a shadowed alley, his hazel eyes narrowed. The chase was a game now, a cruel amusement in the silence. He saw them trembling in the dark, unaware that escape was an illusion. *Almost* pity flickered in his gaze, cold and fleeting, before he stepped into the shadows to close the distance.