Ill Prepared (private to givemelee)

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

It started with the Apple. Well of course it did, it always did. Desmond was pretty sure that the snow hadn't started falling around the temple last night. The van was gone, so were Shaun, Rebecca, his dad... He couldn't even find the temple. Where was he? Somewhere I fucking shouldn't be, he thought, his hands stuffed in his armpits to keep them warm. His jeans were soaked from the snow, his Doc Martens soggy and soaking through to his socks. And it was fucking cold. His hoodie wasn't meant to be a winter coat. Made him wish he'd had time to grab his heavier coat from his apartment before Abstergo grabbed him. Well too late now; his stuff had probably been sold off by his landlord or something.

Desmond trudged through the snow, hoping to find a spot that wasn't so deep. Maybe he could build a fire? Find a way to dry out his shoes before he got frostbite? Things he had no idea how to do, really. Other than the way he'd seen Connor do it on nights where it was cold and he was miles from any town. So, there was that. When the snow finally turned shallow, he brushed the snow off a log and sat down to peel off his shoes and socks, warming his toes by hand. There was no sign of frostbite, thank God.

Desmond reached up to his headpiece, hoping that it would finally work. "Hey, hello? Shaun? Rebecca? ....Dad? ...Shit." He sighed and turned it off again. Nothing but static. "Great. Just what I needed. Freezing cold feet and a wet ass. ...And wet firewood." He had the sneaking suspicion that Juno was cackling her mad head off, the bitch. ...those wolf howls didn't exactly sound friendly, either. He had to get a fire going.

Comments

Did someone say fire? // Setting up a place to run into each other

[givemelee]

The longer Desmond tarried in that location it increased the likelihood that he would start to catch the scent of fire wafting over the air. Light at first, but increasing in intensity with each moment. The lure of being able to dry oneself by the warm, inviting flames would be difficult to ignore, but there was something peculiar about this situation. The sounds of raised voices resounded through the forest, close enough to pick up on the negative tone of the exclamations but too far away to make out just what was being said. Not only had Desmond been whisked away from the temple and dropped into a snow bank.. but apparently something more was going on here.

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

Where there was smoke, there was fire. And Desmond definitely smelled smoke. Turning in the wind's direction, he could even see it, flickering through the trees. At least someone had managed a fire in the snow. He grabbed his socks and shoes and yanked them back on, cringing at the cold wetness of them. But he'd last for now. Slowly he made his way toward the light, using logs and stones to keep out of the deepest snow, and more danger of frostbite.

He was halfway to the fire when he picked up the voices. Desmond frowned. Some kind of argument that wasn't his business. But what if it was Shaun stuck here too? Or his dad? His gaze followed a fallen log, finding the patterns in the branches and the trees. Connor had taught him how to get up there, in that way only the Animus could. Now if only he could do the same without breaking his neck. Besides, he weighed less than Connor. The guy was a fucking bear compared to Desmond. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way up to the treeline, timing his jumps carefully. Clumsy and awkward compared to Connor's quick, light steps. But at least he wasn't bad enough to go crashing down into the snow.

He just hoped that fire would still be going by the time he reached it.