#( 𝑶𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 ; au (( Astrid ))

[bladedwoe]

( Astrid ; moved to beta )

Oddly, Astrid's words no longer brought a sliver of fear as they once had. If anything, he felt cold, numbed by her declaration, and watching her from her perch, he was reminded of a hawk -- majestic, but wholly deadly all the same.

"I'm sure the army feels rather similar," he remarked. The quip fell flat, and most especially with the sharp glint to his eyes.

❝ I say we focus on the here and now, Mr. Tallmadge. Surely I’m not your first? ❞

Expression hardening, Ben curled his upper lip before commanding, "You tell me. As a woman of such vast worldliness, I imagine you'd be able to tell instantly whether or not I've lain with another."

Despite the rancor in his tone, there was a slight vulnerability in his eyes. Astrid had robbed him of his first time being with a woman he loved -- that much couldn't be disputed -- and yet oddly, he wished for her approval; to please her despite his equal need to see her overthrown.

Setauket. The name rolled off her tongue as though she were deep in thought, yet to Ben, her intonation sounded akin to poison. He remained stock-still as she rattled off her knowledge -- Major Hewlett; Captain Simcoe; Anna Strong -- and although his eyes briefly flashed with panic, he was quick to roll the heel of his palm up into her heat, hoping to distract her with the only method he could offer that seemed capable of holding her interest.

Unfortunately, Astrid seemed to grow wise to his intent, and her hand clamped down harshly, painfully onto his wrist before ripping his touch free of her warmth. Ben held his arm aloft like a dangerous weapon, his breath tight in his lungs as they locked eyes.

"You know of my history," he coolly said. "I'd say I'm a pretty damn good keeper of secrets. So it seems to me, madam, that you want to tell me, but are afraid. Why punish yourself by withholding?" Her fingers remained entangled in his shirt, taut and talon-like, but Ben didn't retreat. "Perhaps it would do your body good to get everything off your chest."

        𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤, she did catch it and she wasn’t planning on letting it drift by the wayside. ❝ Is there no sense of community in the army? No connection to be had? Or are all soldiers solely tied to their duties? ❞ Maybe Astrid had been lingering around her Family for far too long, but while the statement rang true for the Dark Brotherhood, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of sorrow at his self-deprecating words. If there was no connection--even that of brotherly affection--among soldiers, how could anyone stay loyal? Was it just a shared passion for the cause that bought their loyalty? Or was it… more complicated than that? For every soldier had their own reasons. It had to be, it seemed that everything had more than one reason for it.

        As Ben’s tone soured, Astrid’s jaw hardened and any mirth that could be taken from his next comment didn’t show on her face. ❝ You haven’t, but you never appeared to care to be explicit about it. ❞ Astrid’s tone matched his own, rancor and snarky. It seemed every time they spoke and the more the conversation shifted, Astrid was drawn further and further away from the coy, teasing nature around her comments. Instead, she turned more and more cold as she continued to speak. She tried to ignore the shift in his gaze and how it began to tug on her sympathies; whatever it was he was feeling, she couldn't decipher, but she understood that his words simmered deeper within him than he wanted to let on. 

        As his hands ripped away from her heat, she curled her fingers around his wrist in a tight grip before removing her fingers from his skin altogether. She allowed her hand to rest on her lap as if it would safeguard any of his actions near her legs. As he began to speak again, still in the firm tone as before, her eyes moved from where her fingers ensnared his wrist to look at his face. She couldn’t suppress the scoff that left her mouth at his mention of secret-keeping. He could only keep secrets for his job, that was the truth. He could never keep hers unless she convinced him to, which is frankly the reason why she wanted him to be dependent on her touch. She didn’t kidnap him to tell him the things she didn’t have the heart to tell anyone else. As a result, Astrid’s jaw hardened and her brows furrowed as he went on to act as if he knew her. He may know what lingered underneath her clothes and that she wasn’t some ordinary woman, but he would never know her. Nobody did. 

        Her fingers curled deeper into his shirt as her eyelids lowered. ❝ What would you like to know, Mr. Tallmadge? And why are you so anxious to know? ❞ If she can take any opportunity to deflect, Astrid would always consider the option. 

@honorhearted

[bladedwoe]

        𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. In fact, she was entirely agreeable to the idea of the deed being in her name, rather than hers or in a fake name. It would amount to less work for her with the same reward in the end. Adelaide wasn’t a fool and she didn’t appear as if she was looking to be a manipulated child any longer, Astrid had to give her some credit there. It was a heavy task to wish death upon a parent, but Adelaide’s next statement made her decision crystal clear to Astrid.

        Blood. On the floor. Nothing more needed to be said, and Astrid wouldn’t pry into her past, because her stomach dipped once she connected the dots. Astrid was used to a little blood here and there, the Sanctuary had its places, but that was something to consider if they were going to sell the house after all. The Dark Brotherhood preferred more unconventional locations (caves, a forgotten barn). A house seemed too… normal and too obvious. It was entirely unsuitable for the Dark Brotherhood and their base of operations.

        “... It’s too bad my father can’t be taken back there to meet a slow, painful death. It would have been fitting. “

        ❝ Whyever not? ❞ She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with intrigue under her cowl. She still spoke to Adelaide in that motherly tone, saved usually for her family members ❝ Contracts aren’t set in stone, my dear. The method of the kill is always up to the client. Would you prefer to bring your father to the house? ❞ A smirk curled the edges of her lips, beneath the red mask stretched over her nose and mouth. She had an idea. 

        ❝ Perhaps we could bring him to the basement? To make him remember all the torment he gave you? If so, would you be interested in joining? ❞ A torture session, the best demonstration of revenge, bringing him back to the scene of the crime. This was going to be juicy.

        She raised a hand, her voice falling back into a professional intonation. Astrid wasn’t going to let herself get too carried away here, this wasn’t her contract. She was merely the provider. ❝ As I said, the execution is all up to you. ❞

"Then we keep the deed in my name and you use the mansion. Or if you sell it, it will seem I sold it and the money is mine to use, and I never want to see either," she answered with genuine indifference, but her eyes narrowed lightly as she continued: "You'll have to scrub my blood from the basement's floor and walls and take away whatever other remains you find, so you can imagine I'm not quite eager to return to live upstairs. I doubt my grandfather ever expected me to actually stay, he only wanted to lighten his conscience since it's his son who ripped me to pieces for years down there."

"... It's too bad my father can't be taken back there to meet a slow, painful death. It would have been fitting."

[bladedwoe]

( Astrid ; continued )

        𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐫, there were always new obstacles that presented itself. One of them was getting a pass into the city. Her connections could always forge a pass for her, but through their connections, British soldiers caught on quickly to them. Until Astrid could get a valuable enough reason to travel to York City, she was stuck in the city of Philadelphia. 

        In the meantime, she observed. She watched lawyers, farmers, Captains, and Majors all cross the streets, but she kept running her eyes across a certain Constable. A fresh-faced Constable at that, younger than most she has run across. It intrigued her and when she spotted him the next time, she quickly ushered him over with a pale hand. She caught his eye with a smile and waited as he walked past the cobblestone street.

        ❝ Sir, I was wondering if you had the authority to issue a pass into York City? Or know anyone who can provide one? I’m looking to visit by the week’s end. ❞

@anoseforrottenapples

[bladedwoe]

( Astrid ; continued )

        𝐀𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥. The constant commotion often served as a distraction from the screams and shrieks of her victims, which is precisely why she stayed put in the city of her childhood. Strawberry, Valentine, and Rhodes were often too quiet for her liking. There were always someone’s eyes on her. In Saint Denis, she could lose herself in a crowd. All until today. Today, at this moment, she wanted to stand out, specifically in the crowd of lowlifes, murderers, and lunatics. She wanted to stand out to Jack and his gang’s notoriety if only to keep the Dark Brotherhood at the peak of its success in this dirty, noisy city.

        He speaks under the darkness of his hat, casting a shadow over his eyes to where Astrid could only see the way his lips moved with his words. From where she stands across from him, leaning against the brick wall with a palm tucked underneath her chin, she can’t pinpoint his face to anyone she knows. It was a smart move to keep his face covered. Even with Astrid’s ties to the Dark Brotherhood, she could always describe his face to the nearest police officer and give them a better idea of who this Jack fellow was. 

        Saint Denis is a huge city, but she was sure both of them were aware of this already. Surely at some point, if the Dark Brotherhood wanted to go along with its goal of reigning terror upon the Saint Denis’ citizens to serve Sithis, she might have to get rid of the competition. Another day, perhaps. But it was an idea she kept near at all times.

        Her lips pulled into a small smile with a mischievous look in her eye. She tilted her head as she pondered the question, only responding with a hum in her throat. ❝ Are you willing to work with the Dark Brotherhood, Jack? I’m not going to hand over any of my clients to your gang, but I’m open to making a few arrangements between our groups if you’re willing to do the same. What problems were you envisioning down the road? ❞

@redwests

[bladedwoe]

( Astrid ; continued )

        𝐀𝐬 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫. She looks as if she saw a ghost, frozen in place with her hand clasped around the doorknob. Did she have no faith in her that she was efficient? For the coin she was planning on providing for the kill, Astrid ensured she was going to be effective and quick with her kill. She wasn’t intending on staying in Britain for a cozy vacation either. She had clients to attend to, a family to care for, and a few connections to make back in the colonies. Time was ticking on her return.

        A gloved hand traced a white, empty canvas where the eyes should be before drifting her feather-light touch down the slopes of the cheek. She outlines this thin surface before falling to outline the small bumps that mimic the lips. Patience has talent here, she doesn’t doubt it, and it only makes Astrid wonder how much shillings she has in store  Would she be willing to make another contract? 

        Her words fall on deaf ears, only humming and smiling slightly in return, her lids lowered over her eyes as she appraised the bust in front of her. 

        ❝ A little raven by the Tower of London told me that King George invited you to sculpt his likeness. It's a very honorable endeavor and a worthy one at that, being so close to the King. Your skills echo across the pond then? ❞ Astrid finally lifted her gaze from the sculpture and locked eyes with Patience. Her gloved finger still mindlessly traces patterns over her art. ❝ Many would kill for an opportunity like that. ❞ Astrid is intentionally cryptic in her wording. The thought of reward and what Astrid earned for her kill wasn’t forgotten, but a new interest took hold. Astrid had no loyalties to either George, but intelligence was gold these days. ❝ Ravens do like to talk, you know. ❞

@retrograderesemblance

[bladedwoe]

        𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭, 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐮𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. Perhaps it was the inflection of his intonation that stirred her emotion, or perhaps it was something else; a thought of how lost, how unrecognizable she would feel if her entire family at the sanctuary was taken away from her. All that fighting, negotiating, bartering, and schemes to make sure the Dark Brotherhood gained enough profit for its next shared meal was partly what got her out of bed most mornings.  All her work would be for nothing then. Nothing could match the bond she shared back at the sanctuary, she became an entirely new person by her invitation into the Dark Brotherhood. 

        She knew the world would not accept her for who she was, so instead, she found her own corner of the world. She nourished it to the success it had today.

        ❝ I never had a sibling, but I can see what you mean, Tallmadge. ❞ Her voice softened but twisted into something akin to determination when Ben gave his snide remark. She understood he wasn’t happy with his current predicament, but did she care?  Hardly. ❝ I understand what it is to be disliked, feared even, but I also know what it's like to be respected. Admired. To build yourself up from nothing. Surely you might understand that, Tallmadge, or perhaps you don’t. We live very different lives. ❞ Any camaraderie that could be found in her previous statement is lost in her next words, her voice hardening. Yet, she had no idea why her emotions were being influenced like this. Perhaps she was spending too much time in the woods--with him--for her to control herself. Maybe he was starting to drive her totally mad.

        His question and how it seemed to question her, yet criticize her didn’t help in the slightest.

        ❝ Peace would not exist if chaos did not exist. Tallmadge. Is it so hard to break away from what society dictated as right--as morally right? At the core of every human being, we are nothing more than savage animals. ❞ Yes, there was a not-so-guilty pleasure that came with her job (the blood, the hurt, the suffering, the control it provided), but the deity they served asked for souls to be pushed into the void by mayhem and terror. Who were they to deny Sithis of this wish?

        At this point, Astrid wished to contain every motivation and every reason she had for keeping him here, just to delve him into turmoil for his words. Didn’t he deserve it? ❝ You will respect me. I have been far kinder to you than any redcoat or Robert Rogers would be if they got his hands on you. ❞

Cautious, Ben lifted his head to regard her, genuinely surprised by Astrid's response. Was comradery truly so important to her?

"There is," he allowed, hesitant, "but I suppose I've learned to suppress such feelings -- to conceal them, if only to guard what little humanity I have left." He shrugged, his throat bobbing reflexively. "Once you lose a friend, a brother, little by little, your heart starts to wither up and die. And if you fully lose yourself...well...it's over, and I would rather keep to myself than become a husk."

There was already a trail of bodies in his wake, a never-ending pool of blood on his hands, and it agonized Ben to think of failing his men any more than he already had.

Feigning indifference, he was quick to deflect, "No one has one-hundred percent approval. I wasn't lying when I said I am disliked in certain circles -- surely, you know something of the feeling." His expression shifted into a hint of snideness.

❝ You haven’t, but you never appeared to care to be explicit about it. ❞

The assessment stung. It was wholly, unequivocally true, but to see how easily he was seen by this woman -- perhaps anyone -- was unnerving. He swallowed, his throat feeling raw and worked over. "I care very much," he gritted. "Perhaps it is easy for you to be flippant about intimacy, but it's not for me...and least especially with how fleeting life is." He eyed her sharply. "Don't you ever wish for more than this? Do you truly enjoy the blood, chaos and pain? The hurting of others?"

Astrid seized hold of his shirt, and wincing, Ben found himself tugged forward again, their eyes locking as she purred her questions. ❝ What would you like to know, Mr. Tallmadge? And why are you so anxious to know? ❞

Now it was Ben's turn to scoff. "I want to know what's to become of me," he coolly said. "Is the fate of a man's life not a reason worthy of concern? And most especially when you are the one in charge of how this inevitably plays out?"

[bladedwoe]

anonymous asked : Astrid, aside from Santa Claus, who else do you think is a DILF?

Unprompted ask. -- always accepting

      𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬. ❝ Who’s asking? Someone who’s interested? ❞ It’s a light joke. She wasn’t exactly looking for anyone, but if someone interesting passed by her, she would be open to the possibility.

       Despite her own distaste for the aging look of her face and form, some attraction in her always made her look for men older than her. Between her and her husband, there was a bit of an age gap between them, but all things considered, Astrid could go older than that. The sight of gray or white hairs, a man that could take care of his own and has the experience to show for it, intrigued her. With age comes presumed mastery and by that age, an ego is usually refined and confidence stems from life experience, not arrogance. No fronts are needed, they’re past their “useful days” unlike youthful men who lack maturity. Men with children, well, they also have better conflict management. She looked for emotional maturity more than anything else, looks aside.

       ❝ Well, my husband, of course. ❞ Oh, she has to mention him. It’s guaranteed. Devlin Mallory, perhaps, though she assumed that any kids he has -- he doesn’t see in person or attempt to acknowledge them. He has the gray, faded hair, the voice, and the muscle mass she looked for in a man, but they were better as friends than the friends-with-benefits situation they had in their younger years. All water under the bridge in the present.

       ❝ I’ve heard that Abraham Woodhull suits my type, but only for the child-raising part. He lacks the maturity I look for. He looks younger than he says he is. ❞ Besides, from what she’s heard of how he is as a husband, she feels as if her idea of polyamory would be misunderstood as a free for all. ❝ I’m not interested, frankly. ❞

      But there’s another…

       ❝ The Major? Edmund Hewlett of Setauket? He’s older and prefers a powdered white wig, but I have heard he has a few gray hairs. But he’s far too… passive for my type. ❞ And honestly, Astrid fears that he would sooner put her neck in a noose than be interested in pursuing her if he ever met her. ❝ Easy to manipulate, but for the long term? I think our interests are so vast that compromising would be a wasted effort. ❞ But George Washington... that’s a name she would take up...

[bladedwoe]

honorhearted asked : 🌿 *snorts* Cuz I'm curious if this would be another form of manipulation or not (but you don't have to answer unless you want to!).

Send 🌿 to accidentally get caught under the mistletoe with my muse. / @honorhearted​ -- still accepting

      𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬. It never stopped and there were no breaks even when the cold weather persisted, and Astrid found herself in Washington’s camp. Her goal was not to spot Mr. Tallmadge in a crowd this time, the target didn’t require this, but instead, her job was to kill an entirely different man. One lowly soldier, she assumed, was the brunt of someone’s ire.

      She watched from beside a tent before moving away deeper into the shadows of the night. She was supposed to be disguised as a camp follower, but for this night, in particular, she needed to be on the other side of camp a woman would not be allowed in. So, for this, she tied up her blonde locks, discarded her stays, and donned herself as a rosy-cheeked soldier.

      So far, Ben hadn’t noticed her lingering gaze as he perched around the fire with his fellow men. They were singing the night away in their drunken stupor, but from the looks of it, Ben didn’t look as deep in his drink as the rest of them. To soften his stubborn nature, Astrid might’ve preferred for him to be well into his cup, but if she was dressed as a soldier, she would prefer for him to be as sober as he could be to remember her. 

      In her position, she turned her head to the sound of footfalls against dirt. The taller figure in blue and the wind-tousled strands of hair were a familiar sight to her and she had to soften her grin at his appearance. Ben didn’t look as dirty or worn as he had in their previous interaction, but there was still a human, wild look to him that always caught her eye. As he passed by her, she grabbed a hold of his arm and shoved him inside the nearby barn. Pressing him against the wooden walls as her heart thrummed in her ears, she covered his mouth with her hand.

      He struggled beneath her and it took the knocking of the hat off her head and the rising of her voice to get him to finally settle down and comply.

       ❝ I came here for you, ❞ she told him, her voice airy and breathless as she uncurled her hand from over his mouth and instead rested her strong grip on his shoulder, digging through her pockets with her other hand. She shoved away the dagger in her pocket and instead felt for the thin stems of the plant. As her finger hooked through the hole of the ribbon, she drew it out of her pocket and hung it in front of his face with a smirk.

       ❝ Did you miss me, Mr. Tallmadge? ❞

[bladedwoe]

( Astrid ; continued )

      𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. She kept the Major fed, allowed him to keep his clothes, and gave him a spot in the tent to sleep at night. Even though she considered giving him these comforts, she was no fool. This was a privilege waiting to be taken away and as long as Ben was in her grasp, she was going to make sure he knew she was always nearby. Watching, admiring perhaps in a way, but observing all the same.

      She looked on as he scooped up his soup by the spoonful. She didn’t need to feed him either, which is exactly why Astrid felt more assured that there were worse captors out there, willing to capture a prize like Tallmadge. A feat she managed with her womanly charms. Poor thing, they would allow him to starve and she was kind enough to offer him shelter and a warm bowl of soup, a rabbit hunted on her own precious time. She smirked to herself and her lips produced a “tsk” sound at her own thought as if to chide her for her mockery.

      It seemed as if she wasn’t the only one observing. Ben had managed to remember her statement about being close to the desired destination. He obviously wasn’t observant enough to catch her lie. Yes, she was sent to kill him, but she was even closer to breaking him, she imagined. If he was as infatuated as he seemed with her, then she was all but finished with this outing. He would become her own spy if she could keep her hold on him. Just a little bit longer until he would give in… She could almost taste it.

       ❝ Not long, ❞ she replied with a smile and an oddly friendly tone. She wasn’t going to let him in on the exact details, but she could promise that she was close. Or rather, Ben was close to giving her information. Why she brushed his knee was another attempt to sway him in her favor, to get him talking and perhaps trembling under her touch.

      She leaned towards him, running her hands through his blonde locks, loosening his queue even more as it held on to a few slender strands. ❝ Just eat up, let me worry about the traveling part. ❞ Her voice was sickly sweet as she cooed into his ear, the same intonation of a mother comforting her overthinking and worried child.

@honorhearted​

[bladedwoe]

        𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝’𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝-𝐢𝐧-𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝, the man lingering by Jack’s side that watched the exchange in silence. Her gaze landed on his face before lingering over his body, trying to spot any shine of a weapon glowing in the thin slashes of sunlight.  

        Why was she here? It was simple. She had overheard Jack’s reign of terror in Saint Denis and Astrid wanted a look-in, seeing if she could barter cooperation than a competition between them. In a city that grew and grew every day as the smoke rose higher, she was certain that Saint Denis would make room for two murderers. If she worked with Jack now, there would be less inference in the rise of the Dark Brotherhood in the future. 

        A small smile crawls onto her lips and a small huff of air leaves her nostrils. She tilts her head, eyes lingering on his step towards her. ❝ Jack, ❞ she starts in that sultry tone, extending a hand out towards him as she speaks. ❝ The Dark Brotherhood is known for their cooperation: in contracts, with the Thieves Guild. We are nothing if not cordial, ❞ her voice falls from that warm intonation to a voice made of steel, ❝ for the right price. ❞

        She dares a step towards him, leaning away from the brick wall behind her. ❝ What can your group provide for the Dark Brotherhood, hm? Our connection with the Thieves Guild allows us to know every corner of this city--its dens, its hiding places--and it's especially useful when… well when we run into the Saint Denis police. If you need our assistance, we’ll assist. But, what can you do for us, Jack? ❞

@westhymn 

( 🗡️ ) It wasn't a cloaked movement that catches his eye, instead it was a sneer of his second in command, Matthew Greer, at the prospect of working with them. Would they get along down the road or would they eventually tear each other apart? Jack has to think of these things because unlike Astrid's subservient followers, his men are slaves to their desires. No, not slaves, they very much know what they want and it's his promise to deliver it instills them as their head. Even if he wasn't, they'd still go on killing until a bullet or a noose ends it.

And why the hell not? As long as Astrid can provide money and time to play out their hellish desires they'll follow, for now. Information is key and he'll need it before signing off to whatever ploy she may muster.

Jack lazily points a gloved finger to the shadows around her, "The problem is simply cooperation, Astrid. If you want my services, what exactly can you bring to the table? What is your goal, hm? What exactly your assassins can't do that you are risking your stake in this city?" He pauses, having taken a couple of steps forward, "Mutual grounds."

[bladedwoe]

𝑻𝒖𝒓𝒏: 𝑾𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏'𝒔 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑨𝑼

*       𝑨𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅    (x) (x)

[bladedwoe]

Tw: death mention, discussion of sexism.

       Though Astrid's mom is not the greatest figure in her life with her controlling tendencies over Astrid in her youth: choosing her lifestyle for her as if she was a doll. I do feel a little bit of sympathy for her. Astrid doesn't, but I do.

       Astrid's father died when she was young. She hardly knew him, all she knew was her mother and she never knew her beyond her controlling ways. Whether she was in a happy marriage or not and if her mother was any different, she doesn't know. They never spoke about her father much, she just knew he was a presence once in her life. But Astrid's mother dreams to be within the elite society, to be wealthy and have a reputation that made others respect her, was likely the only thing keeping her together in times of stress. Astrid didn't grow up in a wealthy household, despite her mother giving her a solid education (nothing grand like actual high society people, but better than that of a schoolhouse) and mingling with other middle class and above people to hopefully raise her reputation and get her name out there, clinging to last names and lies she wove to make it appear as if she was born with wealth and luxury. But Astrid's mother clung to this as almost a manifestation in a way. If one believes it hard enough, it will happen. She didn't have a male figure in the home to provide protection and income, she only had a daughter and with that, she was going to make her that provider and do what she can without a son or a husband of her own. Tap into what a woman would be allowed to do to get something going.

       Though at the expense of Astrid's control being out of her own hands and her fate being crafted by someone else, her friends were chosen for her; these friendships were tested to see if they could further the household's status; a bunch of different last names were used to try to add more initial respect on their name alone; there was an arranged marriage in the works; she was heavily encouraged to pursue interests that resided in the wealthy classes, never Astrid's own personal interests.

[bladedwoe]

( Astrid ; closed starter )

      𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬, her eyes peering over the rim of her glass at every attendee. Unlike usual jobs, this particular one wasn’t intended to end in bloodshed. There was no ex-lover, no cheating spouse, or a shady merchant she had to make a deal with. Instead, she was looking out for the right time to strike and coax a man none of these things away from the liveliness of the party. Rather a source of hers name-dropped an important name within the Patriot cause, and when there was a mention of a certain Patriot officer attending a Tory party, it was all too apparent Astrid wouldn’t be the only one with a persona.

      The man was Benjamin Tallmadge. A Major, but a supposed Spymaster. He was the Head of Intelligence and it wasn’t only the British that had their own spies to hide in the chaos of war. She spotted him in the crowd and she wondered if he took the same lengthy steps she took to secure an invite. While her source could’ve easily forged an invitation, that wouldn’t be enough to secure her place. If he was truly on a spying mission, she had the assumption that he would be watchful of all of the guests, and one that never surrounded herself with a friend might arouse suspicion. So, she took upon the act of a wealthy heiress, it didn’t take much to embody the high-class persona her mother wished to ingrain in Astrid in hope that she would be able to secure a wealthier man’s hand in marriage, bringing in fortune for their family. This same act Astrid grew up with and used as a second shell upon one of the guests, the daughter of the host, a woman still unsure of what suitor to choose from and frankly, naive to the world, still rosy-cheeked with youth. She was a bundle of anxiety and Astrid’s reassurance and improvised stories of her own time dealing with suitors and similar experiences were enough to gain her trust. 

      The daughter has now been pulled to the attention of one of the suitors she couldn’t choose from. It was both Mr. Mason and Mr. Thompson that made her heart sing with joy and for her face to become flushed, but with an estate tied to her name, her father had a heavy say in her choosing.

      Astrid’s eyes peeled away from the sight of the young woman and now she set her sights on Mr. Bolton. She passed her empty glass off to a tray in a well-dressed man’s hands and crossed the floor to get a chance to speak with the so-called John Bolton now that he was away from anyone seeking his attention.

      She remained calm and collected as she stood next to him, peering out the corner of her eye, she waited patiently for him to turn and regard her presence. As he shifted on his feet, she finally gained his attention and started the conversation.

       ❝ Are you a friend of the host? I haven’t seen you at one of these gatherings before. ❞ Astrid’s voice remained soft, even, and friendly, an innocent curiosity to her words.

@honorhearted​

[bladedwoe]

        𝐎𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. Astrid can practically see the vengeance through her eyes as it matches her curious, sympathetic gaze through her cowl. Revenge was a common reason to call upon the Dark Brotherhood, but it was often a worthy endeavor. Those who felt wronged by the world often paid the most for spilled blood. 

        ❝ Yes, yes; all of that can be arranged in due time, ❞ comes her whisper as she lowers her voice to a mother’s tone. ❝ The Dark Brotherhood can do that and more, my dear. For a price. ❞ Her voice lifts for a moment, leaving the silence to surround her words before she speaks, tilting her head and raising her head in interest. ❝ What price are you willing to pay for vengeance, my dearest? ❞

open to people who can have fun with this & people who could kill her father's men for her

"I want them to die... but before that I want them to suffer and be frightened, perhaps even beg the way they made me beg." So what if that made her evil, hadn't she earned the right to be, just for a little?

[bladedwoe]

retrograderesemblance asked : "hm." was all michael could think to utter as he leaned further back in his chair, his eyes carefully observing the woman. bringing his cigar back to his lips, he inhaled deeply before allowing his breath to exit his lungs slowly, the streams of grey smoke swirling around his features. "in honesty, i hardly expected that to work." the summoning ceremony, he meant. it'd been a suggestion by a less than trustworthy colleague -- a colleague who was no longer with the living, as it were -- and yet there had been something enticing about the entire myth of it, of this dark brotherhood that had persuaded him to give it a try, if not for results then for his own amusement.

Unprompted asks. / @retrograderesemblance​ -- always accepting

      𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, Astrid’s dagger clung loosely to her hand and its sharp edges shined in the candlelight. Specks of blood remained on the edges of the blade. In the silence, her eyes stared through the smoke at his face, her breath even and relaxed as she weighed the man in her mind. Usually, most people who performed the Black Sacrament were met with shock--sometimes horror in their gaze--when they spotted the lone assassin in their doorway or being at home in their parlor when they returned home. Though, in rare circumstances like these, some were relaxed in her presence and expectant. 

      If the sunlight didn’t peek on the horizon, lighting some of the dark corners of the forest she traveled through to get to his home, Astrid may have made a jest regarding his initial disbelief. She tended to use the cover of darkness to carry out her contracts, but sometimes, the light of day was exactly what a kill required. But she would only know this once the deal was struck.

       ❝ You followed the ritual’s instructions, you called upon the Dark Brotherhood, and now I’m here to speak about a contract. You are aware of that part of the ritual? ❞ Her voice dripped with a honeyed tone as if the talk of ending a life was more of a joking matter than anything serious. ❝ An exchange of coin is only fair for the loss of a life. ❞

[bladedwoe]

honorhearted asked : ➵ *snorts* Cuz this oughta go well lol.

Send me ➵ and I will bold all that applies to your muse. / @honorhearted​ -- accepting

Note: italics are circumstantial

I would hurt you or use you. | you unsettle me. | I dislike you or you annoy me. | I would like to get to know you better. (but she’ll likely never admit it and bury it deep down) | I pity you. | you confuse me. (sort of with his mixed signals) | I feel indifferent towards you. | I would be friends with you. | I would fight by your side. | I would hug you or hold your hand. | I would kiss you. | I would sleep with you. | I would lie for you. | I would protect you. (if someone was to target them while she has his kidnapped/while she still has some use for him to be around) | I would fall in love with you. | I would kill for you (if he paid her a hefty amount) | I respect you. | you are my family. | I don’t know you.

I’m not sure what dynamic these two will turn into, but so far Astrid isn’t romantically into him. It’s a physical attraction and somewhat an interest in his personality that doesn’t get discussed openly because there’s no use to get any emotional bond or learning about anything about him other than to fill space while he’s kidnapped. I don’t see many heart to heart convos going on unless they somehow land on that topic. She has some “what ifs” about what it could’ve been like if things were different and she didn’t have to go this route, like if she truly just met him at a party as himself without any lingering underhand intentions to get him alone, but like I said: it isn’t overly important atm for her. I’m not sure what these two will turn out to be, but I don’t see them straying from the occasional FWBs scenario. I don’t think Ben would willingly want to be with Astrid with her job and morals unless he did some extreme mental gymnastics for it or saw some weird spy potential (rip Ben’s coin purse if that’s the case).