· CALL ME OUT (WINTER) ·

[hobbitholmes]

call me out
· winter 2020 ·

Neon on black top, there's gentle rain downtown.
The shadow pooling underneath me, as it follows on the ground.


❚ PICK A MUSE FROM HERE
❚ WRITE THE NAME IN THE SUBJECT
❚ SEPARATE SECTION FOR VOICE TESTING
❚ ___new cmo out in a few months

Comments

· [ASSASSIN'S CREED] callum lynch.

[pionero]

[brickinthewall]

[Hanna King was a special little thing.

Hanna King did not go by subject numbers.

Hanna King had no spectacular lineage.

Hanna King was a new breed.

She was not Hanna to most. She was King to those that mattered. Prometheus to those that didn't. She was no one and everyone, lost to the tides of broken memories and unending rage.

She sat in common room in a bit of a daze, breathing deeply and shallowly all at once. Her brain pounded against her skull. Was it the alcohol? Was it the genetic sequences? Hanna didn't know, and she didn't care. She wanted to rip this place apart.

But something in her veins made it impossible. Fuck, she felt horrible, like a wet, angry cat. Hanna rolled her head back, grinned to the ceiling and laughed.]

Can't keep me down, you fucks!

[Or maybe they could, because here she was. Her head and her eyes rolled over to the side. She'd seen him around, didn't particularly care enough to know who or what he was. It's rare they even let her interact with the rest of the inmates.

She grinned even harder and winked.] Hey, sweetie.

[pionero]

[ Cal wasn't as special as Hanna King. And he didn't want to be.

Hell, he didn't want to be involved in this damn shadow war. It didn't matter to him if his family line had been involved in it. It ended up with his father killing his mother and then him being on the run, shelters, orphanages, gangs. Cal could give a shit less about the fucking war behind the Templars and the Assassins.

Even if it made the memories of his ancestor - Aguilar - stir deep inside. Some sort of driving force that made him disgusted within his own skin at the idea of letting the Templars go.

Maybe he'd side with them long enough to find that damn Apple of theirs so he could destroy it. End the war.

He looked up from his internal musings to the person that was addressing him. Huh. Think of the devil and she appeared. ]

What?

[brickinthewall]

[She turns her attention physically to him, still slumped over as if she were a queen on a throne. Her voice, deeper by decibels, is a drawling mockery of his voice.]

"What?"

[Hanna laughs lightly.]

Is that what you say to all the girls that hit on you? "What?" Talk about some fuckin' manners in this place.

[She sighs, shaking out her wrists, pained by the IVs they've stuck into her veins over the past several... well, who knows how long really. There are days with memories, and days without memories, and then those days are split into days with her own memories, and days with other memories.

For a moment, she sees it.

An overlay.

A hood, brown and cream.]

You're the Spaniard's kid.

[The vision flickers away, in a VHS cassette rewind of time and space. There's her best friend, Robin Hood, hovering a little further back, arrow drawn. But that's not Robin Hood, is it? No, Hanna realizes that is not her best friend, only someone who looks like him. Robin Hood and Echo are her only friends in the marshlands of memories.]

Well. You aren't Spanish. Seen your great granddad doing his tricks, though. [She drops her voice into a hiss of a whisper.] Kind of a pain in the ass if you ask me. Prancing into my brain the way he does. This is off limits, baby. [She taps her temple.] Only got the space for Danes, the Greeks, the Britons, that whole slaughtery mess. [But that wasn't the truth. She knows the real truth: she's not a prime suspect. She gets all the leftovers.]

[pionero]

[ Mockery. As if that isn't something he's run into before in his life.

Cal simply lofts an eyebrow at first. He wouldn't call that hitting on him. Which then earns her a roll of his eyes as he goes back to picking at the food on his plate. The food he really has no intention of eating. Not when he's recent out of an Animus session.

You're the Spaniard's kid.

Did everyone fucking know Aguilar?

His cold eyes turn back to Hanna then. Baptiste's descendant -- Moussa. He mentioned being able to see Aguilar as well. Maybe once they were in the Animus too long they all went fucking crazy and started hallucinating. ]

I'm guessing I must be Spanish if he's Spanish. [ Maybe like, 1% Spanish, but enough where the bloodline can be traced back. He leans back a bit from her then. ] Right. I'll make sure to tell my dead ancestor to back off the real estate.

[brickinthewall]

Just 'cause you got a dash of cayenne don't mean you a spicy dish, you know what I'm saying?

[She knows she's hallucinating. Bleeding, they called it. She saw some of those sequences constantly. Sometimes they tried to protect her, sometimes they tried to hurt her. It's always a toss-up.]

And you don't go telling the dead where to haunt. [She grins, huge, nearly predatory, sure that her canines are really tiger fangs.] You tell the living to curse someone else. And I know where the hexers are.

[Her green eyes flicker up, to the cameras, and then beyond, to a blank wall.]

What's it called when the witch you burn burns you back?

[pionero]

Yeah. Unfortunately.

[ It isn't that hard to follow what she means - just how she says it. Then again, the criminal life has led Cal to run into all sorts of life. If anything it is reminding him of how junkies are. ]

I'm pretty sure our ancestors don't give a shit about it being rude who they are haunting.

[ If anything? Agulair seemed grumpy about it all the damn time. ]

Revenge?

[brickinthewall]

Justice.

[But they were only just a few murders apart, weren't they? An ounce of blood is all it takes for an act of justice to trip into an act of revenge.]

No one in my brain is my ancestor. [She mimes drawing a bow, perfectly, muscles tensing, vision sharpening, silence of the forests ringing in her ears.] But they got some neat tricks. [Her fingers loosen the invisible arrow, and she could almost see it, the cracks in the wall from the tip of a poisoned head.]

Robin Hood was real, you know. Not totally like the stories, but he was real.

[Her arms come down.]

I killed Julius Caesar. I escaped my father and my arranged marriage. I sank my ship and died in the sea crawling for El Dorado. I murdered Marie Antoinette. I spied for the allies and I was executed as a traitor.

[Despite herself... she laughs. Bleakly. Hollowly.]

And they all think I'm a dumb blonde.