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Desmond gritted his teeth as his boots crunched through the undergrowth, adjusting his hood with his bandaged left hand. Out of all the places Shaun could send him off to it had to be this place that redefined raining out an event. Sucking in the rain forest valley’s crisp air he kept trudging through the light rainfall following the moss growths on the trees.
The more he trekked through the forest the more his mind wandered back to the Animus. Rebecca explained that it would take a week to repair, but instead of being there to hear her technobabble and at the very least pass her a wrench he was here, among the towering moss… Now that he thought about it, wasn’t moss just a natural Animus? He reached to touch the moss with his bandaged hand before his vision flickered and—
His vision blurred as the bleeding effect took a hold of his mind again, he saw glaciers melting into midnight skies dotted with stars slowly swirling into a cosmic chaos of black holes with a pair of piercing golden eyes staring him down. Desmond shook his head vigorously, knocking his own hood off as he tried to focus again, ignoring the pounding headache he was developing. Shaun’s voice echoed in his mind, “You really want to help? Fine, go see if these reports from Forks are—What on Earth did you do to your hand?!”
Rubbing his bandaged hand, pensively staring at his hidden blade that was strapped to his wrist haphazardly, Desmond rolled his shoulders recalling the lithe movements of his ancestor Altaïr and slowly let his footfalls match the memories he had relived. Just as he found his rhythm a crack of thunder echoed through the trees before a rolling wind and a flicker of white came surging towards him.
Dodging to the left he turned his head to register what he was seeing, the Eagle Vision of his ancestor glazing over his view. A… Teenager? No, that couldn’t be possible! He felt shoulder hit the forest floor with an unexpected crunch causing him to wince. The creature-no-the human must’ve heard as their head snapped to his direction and before he could even catch his breath he was smelling the wet dirt with a hoarse cough. He felt his jacket getting tugged, pulling him reluctantly to see what even his Eagle Vision couldn’t register.
Unnaturally golden eyes, like the ones from the bleeding effect visions, trapped his thoughts as he scanned the fair face of… A younger Shaun? No, that couldn’t be possible. But the bronze brown hair… The seriousness of the eyes… The accusatory voice.
“Who are you?” The younger Shaun shouts, his grip on Desmond’s jacket tightening causing the leather to crack unnaturally, 'Why are you even out here?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions…” Desmond replies, grabbing the wrist of the wrist of the person keeping him on the cold October soil, “Without sharing anything yourself.”
The topaz eyes flash as the leather begins to ripple and rip under the superhuman grip of his pale hands. For the first time in a while, fear rises in Desmond’s chest. The same fear that kept him held inside the white walls of Abstergo Industries for so long… Along with a fiery curiosity.
“Desmond Miles.” he forfeits, releasing his grip while quietly mourning his jacket, “I saw you… Running? That’s all.”
The grip looses, the eyes soften, and Desmond finds himself wondering how those eyes would look behind glasses… Was he connected to Shaun somehow? He didn’t have a British accent like his… If anything they sounded… Older.
“You should leave…” The mystery teen slowly rises off of Desmond, leaving him on the chilled forest ground. He heard the crunching undergrowth which sent him quickly sitting up to get back onto his feet.
“And let you Templars continue whatever the hell it is you are doing? Hell no!”
He feels the memories of Altaïr bleed into his form with the flick of his hidden blade as he watches the form shift from teen to blur. He rolls out of the way as the teen hits the tree with an earth-shattering crack, the force alone enough to send Desmond tumbling. Their bronze-brown hair shifts as they rebound off the exploding splinters of wood barrelling towards Desmond. This teenage boy, with super-natural abilities and star-toned eyes looking just like a younger version of the man who set his soul alight… Wait- Without thinking, he finds his arm raising, preparing to protect him from what was to come. A flick of the wrist, followed by a hiss and the crunching of an unbraced body to earth, Desmond pivots to find the teen crumpled into the soil.
The bleeding effect fades from his system allowing him to quietly move closer to investigate. Did he-A pair of pale hands reach out to grab him once again, but Desmond’s prepared and rolls the weight back to the ground without hesitation. The teen is pinned, blade at their throat, a small cut on their porcelain face gleaming with beads of blood, golden eyes wide and a short moan passing through their lips.
“How long….” The teen gasps, “Until you just let me go?”
Desmond bites back a bitter laugh, “How long until you tell the truth? There’s no way you aren’t some Templar Experiment.”
“I’m not connected to anything religious… Or Abstergo Industries for that matter.”
Caught off guard by the comment, Desmond feels the boy moving to try and reverse their positions but in the nick of time he prevents it with a well placed nudge of his knee into their ribs. The teen gasps at the contact. Was he…?
“Then what—“
“Am I?” The teen’s face flickers through many emotions: shame, disgust, ego landing finally on suffering, “Nothing an assassin can handle.”
“How did you--“
“I’ve read a bit on weapons and that looks strikingly similar to a DaVinci style hidden blade.”
That fire begins to rip through Desmond’s spirit again, so Shaun, but not, he presses the blade tighter to the skin of the fair-skinned boy’s neck, “Then you know how much damage one can do.”
“You won’t hurt me,” the teen bites back, “I remind you too much of him… Shaun, isn’t it?”
Desmond feels a growl roll through him as the blade pricks the boy’s neck, blood beading at the contact point. Without realizing his failure to think past rage, his arm is pressed to his side, a sharp pain ripples through his nose to his face as he falls back. The roles reversed as the teen looms over him, tensing as the sharp taste of copper brushes Desmond’s lips. In a delirious state, Desmond swears he watches the boy's warm gold eyes turn pitch black… A vortex similar to that of a supermassive black hole as their face leans in closer to his. The teen’s pale white fingers trail along the stream of blood coming from Desmond’s nose before bringing them to his own lips… His own mouth… Wait…
“Are you…” his voice cracks, as Desmond struggles to breathe, “A fucking vampire?”
The teen’s eyes shift from vortexes of black back to their topaz state as he sighs. He licks the last remnants of blood from his snow-white skin before speaking.
“I’m a monster, but not the one you think…”
Desmond feels a tension rising in his chest, compelling him to press himself deeper into the soil as the gap narrows. He realizes this teen is slightly taller than him, something Shaun has never been despite the resemblance. A heat washes over him, but the ground sends a shiver down his spine as he meets golden eyes once more, which felt only a hair’s breadth away.
He feels the slightly warm breath of the teen escape him as their voice, ancient and warm, slowly curls through the tight space between them, “You should really tell Shaun how you feel if I make you this… Tense.”
And before he could come back with a snappy retort, the mystery monster was gone. Faster than he could even perceive. Lying amongst the mossy trees, Desmond holds his hand up towards the tree tops looking at his battered bandaged hand… Thinking of Shaun.
“I thought I was a fool for no-one but oh baby I’m a fool for you” he breathes feeling his senses come back. And with a clear answer in mind, Desmond felt his lungs fill with crisp rain valley air as he slowly pulled himself up to follow the moss once again.