Paris, April 1799 - First Contact

----------------------------------------------- Paris, Île Saint-Louis, April 1799 -------

Waiting, and actually a good bit more unsettled, Adeláire crouched on a rooftop on the other side of the river, staring as if hypnotized over the Café Théâtre. She still could not understand the Council's decision to continue to rely on Dorian. They had even advised to leave her camouflage, and to simply be who she was. Assassin of the Paris Brotherhood, and one of the few women among them. She scolded herself as a stupid girl, as she spasmodically ceased her nervous habit, clinging to the buckles of her over-knee-high boots. She took a deep breath and swung herself down into the street. The Council had decided and instructed her. And unlike Dorian, she never questioned the Council.

Paris, April 1799 - Brother

Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

We work in the Dark, to serve the Light. We are Assassin’s.

All that we do, all that we are, begins and ends with ourselves.

----------------------------------------------- Paris, Île Saint-Louis, April 1799 -------

There it was, the unmistakable sound of a heavily-armed man who had no fear of the consequences such an appearance might bring. Adeláire had only dropped her attention for the fraction of a lash stroke. Now, she bit down inconspicuously on the inside of her lip and scolded herself for her negligence. Carefully and barely holding her breath, she dared to shift her sight toward the entrance to her right, where the sound had originated.