#like oops she knows dad. kass fits right in with pirates. she won't fit in as much here.

[ofspvrta]

Kassandra had been across so much of the world already, seen so many different cultures, and appreciated their art and cuisine and music, their people (for the little she interacted with them) that any time she returned home, she came to recognize it less and less. The history was slowly stripped away and now her precious Parthenon was even gone, just the skeletal remains of a once glorious temple. A place where her friend died. The Venetians did that. So many bitter tastes were left in her mouth as more and more places that held such memories were destroyed, decayed, or rotted by time or man's intervention through conquest. Were she a lesser person, she could have left them all to their fate, but she's seen the beauty in humanity as well. Maybe that is why the calculations deemed her the Keeper.

"Why does that always seem to be the case?" It was more of a question she asked herself. Then again, there was an artifact to be found and trouble followed those little fuckers wherever she went. "Are they unhappy with the management?" Oh, she's seen her fair share of revolutions. She aided in the revolt against the Thirty Tyrants after all. Never mind how many times she's pushed back at oppressive regimes from the shadows. "Hm, perhaps it may help that I'm not British then. But, I'll be sure to keep my head down. Well, as much as I can, anyway." She joked, knowing she stood taller than many of the folk here. This only piqued her interest further, though. She had to find out if the artifact had any play in this.

He had gotten a taste of Ottoman control in Turkey, when he'd gone to retrieve Jenny. For all that Britain exoticised and exaggerated the spread of Islam across the Mediterranean and Europe, Haytham had found it an empire much like any other: diverse, at times militant and at others content to rest on its laurels, weighing slaughter and subjugation against art and education. He had seen the best and worst of it, the grand mosques and synagogues, preserved texts the newly-established British Museum could only dream of, a mixing of cultures they certainly didn't get in the south of England; and the treatment of women, the maiming of men, but, well, that was everywhere. What had happened to Holden would remain with him forever, but he had not found the Ottomans uniquely cruel. How could he, living in the colonies? Anyone could rob another of a limb -- or a member.

"You've sailed into a bit of a situation," he said, with typical English gentility. "Boston is rather a powder keg. Some disagreement between the colonists and the Crown. You might find the locals... less than friendly, at present. If you come across trouble in the streets, I would suggest keeping out of it." That was for both of their sakes: half the trouble in Boston was stirred up by Haytham's own men.