Desmond waking up post ac3 naked in a cage. The guy next to him is worst off with a bandage around his eye and heavy shackles binding his arms behind his back. The rest of the people in cages are not as bad, but neither do they look good.
Closing his eyes he activates eagle vision only to gasp at the new changes in his sight. He can see the small island they currently inhabit along with the men guarding them as the goods. Most worrying of all is the dim blue shape beside him. His vision lets him see everyone's pulse and his only potential ally has the slowest heartbeat he's seen. It might also be the first he sees stop if Desmond doesn't find a way out.
Escape, right. He focuses on the closest red figure. There are some wisps of thread round him that Desmond wonders about. He mentally tugs one and the guy freezes for one heart stopping second before taking purposefully steps in his direction.
Desmond has no time to marvel at the convenience. He sprawls his body in what he hopes looks worrisome. The lock on the reinforced door clicks just as he holds his breath. His stillness is convincing enough as the brigand makes a beeline towards Desmond's cage.
"Faking ain't gonna save you." The brigand's voice comes from the side of his cage.
"Oi, quit messin around." A kick rattles the cage but Desmond remains unnaturally still.
He can sense the man's mounting panic as the cage continues to rattle as he remains still. "Fuck. Fuck!" The guys paces as he whispers about another one of his dying.
His cage is opened up and that's the chance Desmond needed. The guys eyes widen as Desmond punches his throat. He steps out of the cage as if there was no rush. Really there isn't since Desmond knows the others are sitting around a toasty looking fire. He drags his sight back to the guy clutching at his throat.
This guy is wearing his shoes with the laces tied up in impossible looking knots... wearing no socks.
Desmond knocks him out with the force behind his hit. He was pissed at them for stealing his shit and he knows whatever isn't on the island he will have to track down somehow.
He reclaims his shoes, undresses the guy, and throws him into the cage he woke up. See how he likes it.
He is quick to find more of his stuff, knock the guys out, and drag them back to his now cramped cage. The collection of stuff is random. Weapons, grilled chicken, and a suspicious looking substance that burns his nose at a cautionary sniff.
Raiding the supplies is more useful. He drags the crate with him and begins passing out food and opening some cages. Anyone red stays where they are. His buddy drinks water unassisted aside from being held up. Hand feeding him bits of bread gets the briefest of blinks and a whispered lamb, startling him with the intensity of the color. It's kinda mesmerizing.
Damn, this is not the time for Desmond to begin developing a crush all because of a pretty eye. Focus. The cloth thrown onto his face almost makes him want to hurl, but he boils the water the best he can and uses the limited healing supplies to tend to his wound. Desmond sings softly to try and ease some of his pain as he cleanse the wounds and stitches it as neatly as he can.
He spends the night caring for the guy while the others continue passing food around. When the goons wake up he ignores them. Some of the women hit them through the bars with anguished screams. The kind that will haunt him once they are somewhere safe but for now they focus on gaining their strength. Live long enough to reach land and the rest comes easier.
That's shared thought is what keeps them all going, and when his ally is lucid enough to stay awake, he promises to take them all to shore. He doesn't know the way but his eye is more than just mesmerizing *slow blink*
Also pour one out for the tags that kept this drabble hidden in the tags 🫗
