[Arno can only gape for a few seconds as he watches, as what a pathway it is, like steps leading somewhere he should not go, not with the whispers he can already hear in the back of his mind. He knows better, should know better, but his feet carry him the way the Void offers such an alluring tease, hoping foolishly to find a way out. His eyes watch what's ahead of him, leaping from one stone to the next, crouching on a few as he takes notice of the whale in the distance, twisting and turning whichever way he's directed.
What rises as Arno approaches the end is not the comfort of a home, or the peacefulness of a field that brings good memories. Instead, it is the tall and empty vastness of the Bastille during its siege, the chaos of the crowd missing, the fires burning and haunting him like marks of an old memory he cannot shake. And truly, has he ever really let go of what drives him still, to this very day?
The ghosts of his past would not say so. No, Arno Victor Dorian has taken his wrongs and wanted to set them right, seeks redemption in his actions for things that he had no control over in his life, blames himself to where he runs blindly towards anything that he believes will fix what he so desperately wants to change.
For him, it is the top of the Bastille, the high end of the old fortress overlooking the city, that becomes what he walks into. And in that space that is so incredibly and dauntingly familiar is a figure who is not, one whose eyes cause the Assassin to step back in alarm and on edge.]
What is this? [A beat, and he feels himself becoming incredibly wary of all around him.] Explain yourself!
[Today, the Outsider perches on the outer wall, with his feet planted against it, and regards the outrage with indifference.]
You're not a man to let the past go, despite the pain it causes you.
[It is obvious, and not just to one who sees forever. From the Void's point of view, Arno is surrounded by possibility, wrapped in tangled threads of potential tomorrows.]
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What rises as Arno approaches the end is not the comfort of a home, or the peacefulness of a field that brings good memories. Instead, it is the tall and empty vastness of the Bastille during its siege, the chaos of the crowd missing, the fires burning and haunting him like marks of an old memory he cannot shake. And truly, has he ever really let go of what drives him still, to this very day?
The ghosts of his past would not say so. No, Arno Victor Dorian has taken his wrongs and wanted to set them right, seeks redemption in his actions for things that he had no control over in his life, blames himself to where he runs blindly towards anything that he believes will fix what he so desperately wants to change.
For him, it is the top of the Bastille, the high end of the old fortress overlooking the city, that becomes what he walks into. And in that space that is so incredibly and dauntingly familiar is a figure who is not, one whose eyes cause the Assassin to step back in alarm and on edge.]
What is this? [A beat, and he feels himself becoming incredibly wary of all around him.] Explain yourself!
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You're not a man to let the past go, despite the pain it causes you.
[It is obvious, and not just to one who sees forever. From the Void's point of view, Arno is surrounded by possibility, wrapped in tangled threads of potential tomorrows.]
Where will all your running take you?