Sequence three Ѽ Slipping through my fingers like sand
Warnings: Blood, self mutilation, stabbing. Vague game spoilers?
Effects: Confusion, exertion and lots and lots of physical pain (Optional)
He's climbing what seems to be glass tower, the surface smooth and polished and yet he manages to find holds for his hands and feet and it doesn't take long for Desmond to reach the top. He looks around, the bright, empty whiteness extends as far as he can see. But when he turns around, he faces a silhouette. It's human shaped seems to be made out of running computer codes, their blue moving symbols a stark contrast against the black hue surrounding them. This should be scary, but Desmond doesn’t seem to be and there’s something hopeful in his voice when he speaks:
"Sixteen?"
The shadow nods and a voice booms out of nowhere, out of everywhere, though it's filled with white noise and the novice can barely catch what’s being said:
"Her...Eden...all...love...lost...not...what...seems....the...sun...your...son..."
The black figure dissolves and Desmond panics and reaches out for it: "Wait! I don’t understand!" Solid black curls around his forearm and for a moment the Assassin swears he looked at gold eyes within the mess of codes and symbols in front of him.
"Always...with...you..."
And then Desmond feels like his head is about to explode and he raises his hands to hold it, the images twirling behind his eyelids making him dizzy and nauseous, the pain he sees being too real and he drops to his knees, trying to catch his breath.
For a moment, he's back in his room at Abstergo, but it's different. It's painted in red...no in blood and something scratch his arm and when he looks down, he sees his own hand digging in a rather ragged cut, the blood covered index then moving to draw more symbols on the wall. He can hear screams and yells and he thinks he can recognize at least one voice over them all, but the images quickly fade, as quickly as his lifestream seems to leave his body, his vision growing dark.
And then the air is filled with the acrid smell of gun powder and burning woods and Desmond can hear shouts in Italian. He watches as a dark haired man pushes a round, older man on the ground and there's an angry shout that leaves his lips, one he can't understand and as he runs on the rooftop to get closer, he hears the clicks of Renaissance guns being fired and there's an intense pain in his shoulder. He topples over the edge of the roof and he falls to the ground, this time with no hay to cushion his landing.
But he never gets to hit the ground. Instead, he finds himself paralyzed in mid-air, the Pope laughing in front of him. The pain at his shoulder instantly moves to his side and he looks down, gasping for air as he watches his blood staining the white shirt he wears beneath the armor. But it's not a shirt anymore, it's a tunic and the Pope is now dressed as an Assassin, the Master coat shaping his large shoulders against the beige blend of the sandy fortress. Gone is the Italian accent, instead the English words are mixed with Arabian, the tone reproachful and patronizing. Even though his feet are firmly into the ground this time, his arms are strongly secured behind his back by his own brothers and there's a wave of pride and anger that washes him over as the bearded man delivers the killing blow to his torso.
Except that when he moves back, the Master Assassin is gone and there stands an officer that is seemingly from the Roman Empire. The man gives him a nasty smile and calls him a name he's never heard before, though he thinks he knows what it means. The knife is dropped by his side and the soldiers let him go, the hide hood over his head falling off, revealing his face, the same one that's been seen before in the dream, down to the scar running across the lips. He curls over with pain but as soon as he closes his eyes, he hears a woman calling him out and he's running, running for his life. The woman by his side holds a gold ball and they manage to climb the same glass tower Desmond climbed at the beginning of his dream.
But this time, the glass rooftop shatters and Desmond falls back into nothingness, unable to either grab the woman or the ball. There's a clear sound that covers the sound of breaking glass and it's that sound that pulls him out of his sleep.
[Desmond wakes up with a start, the sound in his dream being his own scream, one loud enough that it's going to leave his voice hoarse in the morning. He sits right up in his bed, gasping and panting and trembling as he raises one hand to run over his face. Then his shoulders tense up, as if he's about to throw a punch or something, or anything really, but they slowly relaxes, slacking down even. The man lets himself fall back in the sweat drenched bed, one side look to his Dreamberry on his night stand confirming this has been broadcast. 'Wonderful' he mutters as he covers his face with his arm.]
Effects: Confusion, exertion and lots and lots of physical pain (Optional)
He's climbing what seems to be glass tower, the surface smooth and polished and yet he manages to find holds for his hands and feet and it doesn't take long for Desmond to reach the top. He looks around, the bright, empty whiteness extends as far as he can see. But when he turns around, he faces a silhouette. It's human shaped seems to be made out of running computer codes, their blue moving symbols a stark contrast against the black hue surrounding them. This should be scary, but Desmond doesn’t seem to be and there’s something hopeful in his voice when he speaks:
"Sixteen?"
The shadow nods and a voice booms out of nowhere, out of everywhere, though it's filled with white noise and the novice can barely catch what’s being said:
"Her...Eden...all...love...lost...not...what...seems....the...sun...your...son..."
The black figure dissolves and Desmond panics and reaches out for it: "Wait! I don’t understand!" Solid black curls around his forearm and for a moment the Assassin swears he looked at gold eyes within the mess of codes and symbols in front of him.
"Always...with...you..."
And then Desmond feels like his head is about to explode and he raises his hands to hold it, the images twirling behind his eyelids making him dizzy and nauseous, the pain he sees being too real and he drops to his knees, trying to catch his breath.
For a moment, he's back in his room at Abstergo, but it's different. It's painted in red...no in blood and something scratch his arm and when he looks down, he sees his own hand digging in a rather ragged cut, the blood covered index then moving to draw more symbols on the wall. He can hear screams and yells and he thinks he can recognize at least one voice over them all, but the images quickly fade, as quickly as his lifestream seems to leave his body, his vision growing dark.
And then the air is filled with the acrid smell of gun powder and burning woods and Desmond can hear shouts in Italian. He watches as a dark haired man pushes a round, older man on the ground and there's an angry shout that leaves his lips, one he can't understand and as he runs on the rooftop to get closer, he hears the clicks of Renaissance guns being fired and there's an intense pain in his shoulder. He topples over the edge of the roof and he falls to the ground, this time with no hay to cushion his landing.
But he never gets to hit the ground. Instead, he finds himself paralyzed in mid-air, the Pope laughing in front of him. The pain at his shoulder instantly moves to his side and he looks down, gasping for air as he watches his blood staining the white shirt he wears beneath the armor. But it's not a shirt anymore, it's a tunic and the Pope is now dressed as an Assassin, the Master coat shaping his large shoulders against the beige blend of the sandy fortress. Gone is the Italian accent, instead the English words are mixed with Arabian, the tone reproachful and patronizing. Even though his feet are firmly into the ground this time, his arms are strongly secured behind his back by his own brothers and there's a wave of pride and anger that washes him over as the bearded man delivers the killing blow to his torso.
Except that when he moves back, the Master Assassin is gone and there stands an officer that is seemingly from the Roman Empire. The man gives him a nasty smile and calls him a name he's never heard before, though he thinks he knows what it means. The knife is dropped by his side and the soldiers let him go, the hide hood over his head falling off, revealing his face, the same one that's been seen before in the dream, down to the scar running across the lips. He curls over with pain but as soon as he closes his eyes, he hears a woman calling him out and he's running, running for his life. The woman by his side holds a gold ball and they manage to climb the same glass tower Desmond climbed at the beginning of his dream.
But this time, the glass rooftop shatters and Desmond falls back into nothingness, unable to either grab the woman or the ball. There's a clear sound that covers the sound of breaking glass and it's that sound that pulls him out of his sleep.
[Desmond wakes up with a start, the sound in his dream being his own scream, one loud enough that it's going to leave his voice hoarse in the morning. He sits right up in his bed, gasping and panting and trembling as he raises one hand to run over his face. Then his shoulders tense up, as if he's about to throw a punch or something, or anything really, but they slowly relaxes, slacking down even. The man lets himself fall back in the sweat drenched bed, one side look to his Dreamberry on his night stand confirming this has been broadcast. 'Wonderful' he mutters as he covers his face with his arm.]