Favourite style of art: Trad lines, Digi colors
Operating System: Dual OS (Mac + Windows)
Personal Quote: "Fear only comes from lack of faith."
AC -Conflict Without Ch1-Chapter 1: Never AgainAC -Conflict Without Ch1- by ~kiu-lung
It had been many months since his feet had felt this path, his lungs this air, but his very spirit remembered every detail of the landscape. The gentle slope of the valley tilted him back into its embrace as if he were a lost child; and perhaps he was one. The wolf within him ran Kanatahseton's forests with an assured step, bounding between fallen timbers and crags as if it had never left, but Connor's thoughts were turned inwards, away.
He was no longer the boy that had left this valley, not after he had taken up the Creed of his Order, and the burden of its cowl and promises. The blades he knew well, the obligations even better. It seemed even now he could hear the voice of his mentor - and that of a hundred ages of Assassins before him - preaching of a responsibility to humanity.
Though Connor resolutely carried that weight, and eagerly set on the chance for all to be free, the whisper of a different voice ever clung to him. He knew - had always known - that t
AC -Siphon-"Come on, Desmond, let's see what you can remember."AC -Siphon- by ~kiu-lung
The voice was like a splash of chill water, a waking from a pleasant dream. Desmond groaned inwardly as the calm landscape within the Animus began to fade, the buildings and seas of Forli shattering slowly into vague colors and cold lines of light. Ezio, having just boarded the ship to Venice, looked back a little distractedly as if to watch his descendant reluctantly slip away from the scene.
Desmond shifted his arm out of the device's mechanism as the warehouse hideout rematerialized around him, feeling a slight itch as he pulled the needle free from his skin. Lucy was standing over him, a half-smile upon her face, her eyes betraying both light-heartedness and caution.
Perhaps she herself didn't realize it, but Desmond could remember that expression from since he had been incarcerated in Abstergo, that face that both attempted to hearten him, yet remained wary of his reactions. Back then, the memories of danger and blades had not a
AC -Ketoret-A young Assassin's training was as gratifying as it was severe, and even those who were not familiar with the regime could easily see its testament in the apprentices' bruises and fractured bones. These were well justified, however. The living blades of the Master could never be allowed to waver, and it seemed that he thought it best that the weak be broken and discarded before they were ever set to a task.AC -Ketoret- by ~kiu-lung
Altair thought back on this even as he ran the sun-beaten streets, kicking up dust that steadily began to line his lungs and sweaty robes. How many times had he seen his Brothers train beside him until they bled, until their swords fell from nerveless fingers? He had been one of the chosen, he reminded himself tersely. Neither death nor capture were permitted to him.
Though he spoke this to himself, the reminder could not drown the accusing toll of the alarm bell, or the shouts of Jerusalem's guards in close pursuit behind him. The Assassin's hands and blade were still thick with st