InsaneJournal

Who: Sophia, Edward Kenway and Jacob Frye
Where: Starting in a hotel on Wheel 1, likely to move
What: Arrival
When: May 3rd
Rating: TBD
Open: Yes but please ask first
Status: In Progress



Jacob couldn't remember large portions of the night before. Irish Jimmy, James Donnelly, had given his life in an effort to stop Templar sabotage over at Chatham Dockyard. Jacob and some of the older lads had gone to strike back for that loss, when that had been seen to they'd returned to find the others already drinking and celebrating. Jacob was never one to turn his back on good drinks and better company when he could have it and so allowed himself to indulge in a way he hadn't since Evie left for India. There had been singing, which he had taken part in as he was very fond of a drink and a song, and dancing, something Jacob had resisted until someone slipped themselves under his arm and pulled him to dance. Thankfully, at least where the dancing had been concerned, that was one of the parts missing from his memory, but unfortunately, it also meant he didn't remember his dance partner. The dance partner he was fairly certain he'd dragged out with him after the barmaid called time, and likely the same person he felt leave the bed when he was unfortunate enough to start coming around.

He blamed Evie. He could always count on her to stay sober, or at least more so than he did. She always bounced back faster even when she had too much. Now she was in India. In India with her precious Greenie. So, in truth, it was Henry's fault. Henry was the one to blame for his missing memories and that sick feeling in his head and stomach. Good ol' Greenie. If the man was still in London he might have broken into his shop just to turn all of his curios slightly to the left, after all, he had it coming. But Henry wasn't there. Evie wasn't there. It was just Jacob now. Sir Jacob Frye, leader of the Rooks and the Master Assassin watching over London. Jacob who could not spend another minute in bed no matter how desperate he was to stay and fight his way back to sleep.

It had taken a while but he did somehow find the strength to climb out of bed. Climb was a strong word, more like crawl really, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone. Eventually, he did manage to relieve himself and get his face, neck and other bits washed at the basin while doing his best not to meet his own eyes in the mirror above it. He knew the mess he'd find there if he looked and he didn't need to see it. After that came a tonic that did seem to quiet his stomach and ease his aching head, though he still was not yet fully himself. He only started feeling like himself once he was dressed in his dark coat, well-armed and headed for the door, though he did hope for a quiet day something he was likely to get as everyone else had to be suffering at least as bad as he had been.

Though maybe he was suffering more than he thought as when he opened his door and stepped out it seemed he was somewhere else.

There was supposed to be a landing and then stairs down to the rest of the house, not a hall that was decorated in a strange yet possibly expensive style. And there was supposed to be a blank wall across from his door, not another door with a man standing in front of it. He was dressed as an Assassin, he could see that clearly, though the fashion looked a good century or so out of date. At least the fellow was wearing the same confused look he was likely wearing. "You alright, mate? I didn't know it was time for fancy dress."