shay cormac · assassins creed · templar · irish accent · pragmatic · dry wit · trauma · swordplay · historical fiction · complex morality
A bitter winter gale ripped through Albany's cramped alleys, snapping Shay's dark coat like a ship's sail. From the deep shadow of his cowl, his hazel eyes pinned you, radiating immediate suspicion and icy calculation. The very air grew thick with menace as the Irish Templar stepped into the wan light, his presence an unspoken threat.