assassin's creed preferences & imagines

Your Reaction to His Death

sorrysorrysorry

and before you spam me THEY'LL STILL BE ALIVE. IMMA DO ONE WHERE IT'S HIS REACTIONS TO YOUR DEATH SO CALM YOUR SWEET ASS DOWn

Altaïr: It was so sudden. Out of the blue. He was complaining about his chest hurting and chronic coughing, with a fever. He died of pneumonia. He was a pretty fit guy, image was everything to him. But he became so tired and stopped drinking fluids. He died in his sleep, so peacefully. Isn't that what people say? That's the best way to go?

You were torn apart. You thought it could never happen. He took care of himself so well. You thought he was okay and that he was overly tired, until it was too late. You could never forgive yourself. The way the paramedics came through with the body bag and...you just couldn't take it. You couldn't look. The apartment was so cold all of a sudden. Lonely. Dark. You never turned a light on. You became addicted to pain sleeping pills, just so you can feel numb and get through the night. For some reason, you felt like it was your fault. But there was nothing you could do. There never was.

Ezio: He's normally a very careful person, but this time, he wasn't. It all happend in the blink of an eye. He went out one day to get you some ice cream because it was all you craved. You were so eager to text him every step of the way; Did you get it yet? Is it the right flavor? Hurry home now, I miss you! :*. He was driving home and decide to finally answer your texts. I'm coming home not, mio am-. Car accident. So it seemed to be your fault. If he just waited to text you at a red light, or before he got on the road, he would've saved your the trouble of grieving. You hated yourself for it.

You got the call late afternoon from the police. You thought they were mistaken and that a car accident wasn't that bad. They hadn't specified that he actually died. They wouldn't let you see him until he got cleaned up, at the morgue. Thankfully, he only hit a lampost and didn't hurt anyone else. But you just lost a piece of yourself. The best piece of yourself. You'll miss his accent and the way he pronounced things incorrectly. His Italian cooking. Everything. And it was because of you. You couldn't live with yourself. Well, how could you? You went home, took all the things he bought you, and put them in a box, burying it in the back of your closet. At night, you'd sleep in his shirts that where way too big on you. You'd wrinkle his three hundred dollar shirts, which you'd have to dry clean later - which was also very expensive. You were so sorry. But you couldn't go back into time and alter the past. You could never forget what happend. You were scared. Scared without him.

Connor: How impossible did it seem. You both went swimming in a lake on a sunny day, bringing the dogs with you just because. Hunter, one of your dogs, swam down stream and you couldn't find him anymore, so your boyfriend said he'd swim out and find him. That was awhile ago. Poochie sensed something was wrong, so you followed him down the stream, seeing that Hunter made it out okay. But where was your boyfriend? Both dogs bared down at the sloping waterfall with the rocky edge. You saw something floating at the bottom, the mouth of the waterfall red and foamy.

You couldn't accept it. How was it possible? He's so capable of taking care of himself that it ended so unfairly. You couldn't watch the paramedics pull his body out, piece by piece. It was sickening. You almost threw up from crying so hard. You didn't want to be alone. How were you supposed to care for two dogs, a horse, and yourself? You were a mess. The dogs even wimpered at the situation, barking at the police for them to step away so they could be with their master. You felt bad for them, too. They loved him as much as you did. Life was going to be different, now. You couldn't start over. Life goes on. he would've want you to move on. He'd be in a better place now. He was a strong believer of the gods. He'd be with you, forever and always.

Edward: It was kind of ironic, actually. One second, he was fine - drinking like a fish, but fine. Next second, he's on the floor, lifeless. You thought he was fine, he always passes out like this. But you couldn't hear him breathing. You called 911, and the paramedics came in a matter of seconds. They tried to resuscitate, but it was no use. Cause of death was alcohol poisoning. His liver was shot to hell, also. There was nothing you could do. So there he is; on your living room floor, dead. The paramedics take him away and your left with the smell of Carribean rum. You couldn't take it, couldn't wrap your head around it. He didn't deserve to go out like that.

You didn't go out of the house for a week. All you did was drink and cry and sleep and repeat. You didn't want to do anything else. Ocassionally, when it rained, you'd take a bottle of whiskey when you went down to the beach and walk the shore. No one would be there, which was perfect because you hadn't had human contact I'm forever. You'd float in the freezing cold ocean, wanting the sea to swallow you in. You felt like you did this to him. You killed him. You let him die. You could've stopped him but you let him be. He was happy. And now he's dead. You saw the world as a dark place. Heartless, even. Life was unfair. You needed to learn how to deal with it.

Haytham: Unexpected, as all deaths are. But this...you would never suspect this. You came home to see your boyfriend dead at the doorstep, bleeding out with a dagger lodged in his chest. He lied there, cold, for hours. No one called the police. No one saw anything. Just his lifeless body, still gushing blood. You called the police to take the body away. It was difficult to answer questions the police asked you, because you knew nothing. They ruled it as first degree murder and that the case would be open until they had a suspect. That was so unjust, that could take forever.

It was unfair. That day, you both where in an argument about how he didn't appreciate you enough. You'd take what you said back in a heart beat. You were afraid now. Afraid that he's lost, stuck in a purgatory of some sort. You liked to believe in something like that, something fictional. Like, he has a guardian angel and that he must right his wrongs before he goes to heaven. It'd make you smile, but only faintly. You cried yourself to sleep every night. You'd drink tea the way he'd drink it. You'd write things the way he'd write it. You'd admire his collections the way he'd admire it. You felt so empty inside. You'd have only yourself to talk to now, to sing for now, to read for now. There was a void only his words could fill. You'd miss his voice the most.

Desmond: You'd never thought it'd actually happen. He was doing so well, but you were wrong. You came home one day to see him lying on the bathroom floor, soaking in his own blood, with slit wrists. Suicide. How could you miss that? How could you not know? You had no idea. You called for help, and an ambulance came right away. You tried everything; applying pressure to his wounds, CPR - but he was three hours dead. Your clothes were strained with his blood, blood that contained his lies. He seemed alright, happy. You couldn't forgive yourself.

You cried every night, bothering Shaun and Rebecca until two in the morning. You couldn't sleep, knowing what happened in your apartment. You received the monthly bills and found out that bar he worked for was closing, putting him out of a job, and that he was already in major debt. Why couldn't he talk to you? Why couldn't he be honest? You could've prevented this from happening. You could've stopped him. But there was nothing you could do. You packed his belongings, video games, etc. (expect his hoodie. You wore that every chance you had) and took it to Shaun's and Rebecca's so you could at least try to get past this moment in time. You'd loose weight from not eating and sleep deprivation. Sometimes, to punish yourself, you'd light candles in honor of him and burn yourself so you could feel his pain. You tried to forgive yourself, but you couldn't. You weren't there for him, when he was always there for you.