-La sans peur Assassin-

"I don't care. It's not approval I'm after, just power."

"You need a more creative outlet."

"How can I regret the only life I have ever known?"

"Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings."

"You'd kill people simply for believing differently from you?"

"I feel many things. Nausea above all."

"Unless the legend is a lie, you are the man I long to meet."

"Your schemes, like you, are put to rest."

"I've waited too long, lost too much."

"I've always had a soft spot for women in distress."

"They want me dead. Me! Can you imagine?"

"I expect an apology on my return."

"I hope there is another life after this one."

"Don't save me a spot in hell. I ain't coming soon."

"Oh no, God forbid I take a break!"

"Can you lend a hand? Perhaps a blade?"

"I have seen what comes of those who raise themselves above others."

"Why? Why have you done this?!"

"I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly."

"The people never have the power, only the illusion of it."

"You'll pay for this. You and all your kind."

"You will be remembered first as a hero. Later as a legend."

"Is this my reward for believing the best about men?"

"Aside from the failure and the hatred, I envy you very much."

"There is no time. I will have to chance direct approach."

parisianeagle:

The Frenchman disregarded Léon’s blade, motioning it away with his gloved hand. “I thought you were infamous for stalking the streets, hm? You could have spotted me easily — my attire sticks out like a sore thumb.” Arno’s tawny hues then darted to the steel rapier Léon had grasped, shaking his head in sheer disapproval. “If we’re to spar, gamin, it will be with false swords — the last thing we need is you receiving an accidental injury.”

“You honestly think that I will have my eye on the streets just for you all the time? That is a bit unrealistic, monsieur.” Just as the other’s gloved hand had motioned the rapier;  Léon had allowed it to lower even further.

Just through the man’s facial expression caused the boy to quirk a brow at him. And with the statement Arno made; he wasn’t very happy of it. He wanted to get as close as possible to the real deal in this case. 

“False swords? Of wood or just a pure stick? That is no fun.”

“Of wood, petit gamin — Is there a problem with that?”

Arno strutted to the vacant wooden cart nearby, his gloved hand gravitating for an abandoned stick left in the center of the cart. The Frenchman’s henna orbs squinted at the thin natural weapon, tossing it to the roguish thief, tearing a long chunk of wood from the cart for himself.

“É-Élise!?” Arno yelped, blood pouring from the fresh wound marked upon his jaw, missing parts of skin and bone now. “What the devil!?” Victor Dorian barely uttered, blood spouting each word he cried. (k, faire chier)

“Quoi? You expect me to simply leave you?”