Feeling cute today, might write my POC stealing shit - Pistols at Dawn Ch. 8

40 pages, 40 inches of pain. This one has Arno entering the fray, with all his subsequent cuckery and licking the boots of our fair Elysia. As this story goes on, the chapters get longer and longer, and the substance is fewer and fewer. This is your daily reminder this story is not written by one author, but three.

The rattling iron bars of the gate steamed firmly in the spacious corridor; the vibrations ghosted on my palm when I had clutched it firmly so. The few assassins jerked away when I had intercepted five feet within their vicinity, aware and alert. I ignored them and climbed to the top floor to where the Intelligence Room was stationed, with hardly any sleep and no coffee to sustain me.

Elysia is seldom in a good mood, and I wonder what she did to earn her place on the Assassin Council. My guess is, by way of authorial intent, she was put there because she is a 'strong woman of colour' who argued her way to the top. None of the novices respect her. They fear her. She runs the Café and everything she touches into the ground. I don't think Les is remotely aware of this.

He smiled, and bowed his head to expose the graying strands in his dark, pressed locks, “Good morning, Elysia. You’re here quite early.”

Of course he was in a good mood; Arno Dorian wasn’t his problem.

In this story, Arno does not make his own decisions. His own story was taken away from him, and was replaced by this monstrous Mary Sue. Instead of Bellec taking him under his wing, Elysia bitches and moans about how she has to do all the work and how 'problematic' he is. What a fucking white male. He clearly doesn't respect women, let alone women of colour, enough. How dare Elysia, as a Mentor, ever be placed in charge of training recruits. With an attitude like that, I am surprised she wasn't murdered in her sleep - oh wait, she can't. She's immortal.

It was inviting to tell him everything that was on my mind; it certainly would make things interesting and soothe the hurricane inside my body for maybe five minutes. But to what point if it would only amuse the long-term assassin.

This eternal PMS is not character development, Les. Elysia couldn't stop crying or getting angry when she was in Rome, probably because Ezio didn't put up with her shit - oh wait, he did. Elysia was just 'seeking a family' there. Here, she insults and hates everyone around her, including her fellow Assassins. What she cannot win by fear, she wins by intimidation.

Reminder she's supposed to be the star of the story.

“I’m always here at this time of day,” I corrected him.

“Hmm…I never noticed,” he teased.

I tapered my eyes.

He took notice, “I jest.”

“Obviously.” But what problems I had with Quemar….were a little different than anyone else’s. 

You're a Mentor. You were given that position for no reason. Yet you have problems you cannot solve with every single one. Maybe Beylier, because he's black and as a fellow woman of colour Elysia sympathizes. Or Trenet, because she's a woman. But no other white male, even the token Jew, pleases Elysia.

I strode down the dim hallway, and he kept in tow. However, it didn’t take long for him to mention his bothered mindset, his arms swinging to and fro in his determined stride, “Damn council thinks they can do whatever they please. Taking the highroad of an alternative course then to let things play out."

“Is this now where I can ask what the hell happened?” I tried not to plague his name in the issue. Did he do something to make them reconsider? It wasn’t unheard of to have two mentors teaching one recruit. Mostly, a dead mentor would bring that choice to light. However, both Bellac and I were very much alive; this was rare circumstance.

This bitchfight is all about two Mentors teaching one recruit? Wow. Also, it's not Black's fault. It's yours, Elysia. You trashed Arno from the get-go, calling him a stupid boy who has no place in the Brotherhood even though all of the recruits fear you. Black isn't the plague. You are. This plot twist is garbage because Les thinks Elysia is going to be the one to train Arno and 'straighten him out'. 70,000 words for this, yeesh.

"Damn if I know. They sensed something amiss in the way I was teaching the boy. Or at least one of them thought enough otherwise to seek the counsel’s opinion." Bellac steeled himself on names, a snarl threatening to be unleashed if he continued thinking upon it, "So here we are, in this shit-hole of a situation." 

I agree. It is a shithole. And it's a shithole because Les and the authors don't know what a good plotline is, or what characterization is. They're creating a useless conflict that can be solved with a thing called 'conflict resolution'. Elysia is the one who started this mess. I don't blame Black for getting pissy over it.

“You can’t convince me this came out of nowhere.”

“Believe me for once in your goddamn life, Elysia; I had nothing to do with this change.”

Except it did come out of nowhere. Two Mentors training Arno and there's a fight because...because Elysia doesn't want to do it? Because she previously said she hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him? See, Les isn't consistent with her own characters. She can't decide what they want or how they're going to act. When Elysia is faced with a situation she has no control over, she throws and absolute tantrum and blames everyone else but herself. In the Brotherhood story, she could not decide on being a bad bitch or a whiny one.

We touched base on the last step, and proceeded our way to the vacant rooms.

I shot him a glance, “Any ideas to reverse this?”

“What do you think I was doing last night?” he retorted. 

Again: Elysia openly said she wanted nothing to do with Arno. She told him, in the business she stole from him, he has no right to be near the Brotherhood despite knowing nothing about his father, or even M. de la Serre. She has zero knowledge on any events and yet acts as if she knows everything. She easily could have told the Council she respectfully declined, and explained why she would be a poor choice for Arno. That's it. But here we have this fight because plot!

“Ahh…I didn’t hear you come in.” Beylier straightened his back up, his welcoming eyes scanning Bellac’s expression, “And I see Master Bellac is with you. Reminds me of the golden days, how the two of you used to be accompanied by the other.”

This man had some nerve. 

I go back to Les not knowing what she wrote in previous chapters: Elysia was written as despising Black for no reason aside from him calling her shit out. Then, she likes Beylier because he fights for black people. Now, she hates him too, along with Quemar, for no reason aside from him defying her. 

I'd say the one with nerve is you, Magic Woman of Colour.

Like children, Bellac and I sat ourselves, though it wouldn’t surprise me if Bellac also wanted to chuck the table across the room (like how I envisioned it). Instead I kept my composure and waited for Beylier to get himself situated, taking a long sip of his tea and brushing off the droplets off of his mustache. I held onto the edge of the desk to hold myself (and my arising annoyance) at bay while Bellac spread his legs apart, somewhat leaning into Beylier’s space with his arm resting on the table. His drumming fingers and my bouncing heel played out our impatience, but Beylier remained unbothered by it. 

Black is the one who should be angry, and for whatever reason, he isn't angry at Elysia despite her causing this mess. Les is determined to create a strong female character, yet what she has created is a despicable cretin of one. If Elysia can't get what she wants by her demands, she'll force it.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Bellac and I snapped in unison. The dark-skinned man laughed at the comedic timing of it.

“I know you’re a smart man, Beylier-“ I withheld my true tone, “but this is….ridiculously laughable. I brought Arno Dorian to be Bellac’s apprentice; that is what Arno asked, what Bellac wanted, what everyone expected. I want to know the meaning of this.”

So do I. Reminder Elysia couldn't, and didn't, respectfully decline or ask the Mentors why she was chosen as a dual-Mentor. She threw a fit, as did Black, for...whatever this reason is. Maybe I'll get an explanation later in the story, but I doubt it.

Pretty sure Arno never asked for Elysia. He knew she hated him - she openly told him and shows how much she hates him. The only use he serves is to be a boy toy for Les's 'original' gay characters for the future smut scenes - and boy, I bet the prostate massages will be great. 

Bellac didn’t wait for the answer, and pointed to Beylier’s direction, dare say right at the man’s face, "You think I can't handle a pisspot like him? If this is one of your crummy jokes, Beylier, I'd say you have a fine sense of attitude thinking I'd handle an insult thrown to me like this!" 

Along with making every character bow at her feet, Elysia also makes them OOC. Black wouldn't throw a tantrum unless there was a very good reason - this isn't a good reason. This was easily solved. This is over Arno Dorian, son of an Assassin, which Elysia doesn't care for and whose heritage she upends.

"You say it like there's a hidden implication behind our word." Beylier acknowledged, giving a small sigh, "Know I say this as an observer, not an accuser; in light of recent events, it's become apparent to everyone that the boy's....sense of direction is quite....” He pressed his lips together, tapping the handle of his mug, “….tunnel-visioned if I may say. He's emotional, brash in his actions, perhaps too much for even the likes of you to handle, Bellac." 

Les wants to 'fix the plot', and she does so by demeaning Arno's abilities. He does not think with 'tunnel vision'. He was there seeking redemption and he easily moulded into his Assassin role. He is degraded as a character to elevate Elysia - a special woman of colour. Let that sink in.

Beylier pursued his lips as if he were dreading to be asked that, “With no insult to your character…” He leaned forward at this, knitting his digits together and resting his hands against his mouth slightly, “The various missions we’ve provided you have ended in particular ways.”

Bellac pressed with a stare.

Beylier conceded with a grim expression, “Dead Templars. Many dead Templars.”

...The whole point of the Brotherhood is to eliminate the Templars. Black is getting trashed for doing his job. 

“If the boy wants to kill Templars, let him kill Templars. What’s the wrong in that?” Bellac slapped his hand against his thigh, then motioned it toward Beylier’s general direction, “He’s ready to face the danger, to give everything he has for the Brotherhood’s cause-“

It should be noted Mirabeau was willing to uphold the peace, but with the death of de la Serre, said peace was in jeopardy. Beylier, Quemar, and Trenet would have no issue sending Arno to kill Templars - it's what they did in-game.  Lore Down Pat.

“The Brotherhood’s cause is at a halt because of Mirabeau’s truce with Grand Master de la Serre, who need I remind you, Arno is trying to atone for the man’s death.” Beylier rebutted, a hand stayed to halt Bellac in his tracks, “We’ve had little to no ideas what are the Templar’s motives now and the various assignments to handle smugglers, raiders, spies of the sorts—it’s clear that Arno’s frustration is being led to pointless dead end if you’re driving him to nonsense slaughter.”

If you don't know the motives, you suck as Assassins. Germain still hasn't appeared, and we're at 70,000 words. That is more than enough time to introduce him and Shay. So much for being 'menaces' - they're barely in the plot!

Plus, Arno was punished for killing targets not sanctioned by the Brotherhood. That's the whole point of him getting kicked out. And he hasn't even begun training yet! How has he killed anyone when he's still a novice who hasn't been trained?

Oh I'm sure Elysia will fix him up real good, once she's done starving Parisians so her boyfriend can get rich at his restaurant.

“Pointless??” Bellac stood at this, and I honestly thought he was going to try to break the wooden barrier centered when he rammed his fist against it. “What’s pointless is that we’re having an argument about this; Arno Dorian is the change we need!”

1. This story is pointless. 2. Arno will change nothing and no one, as he is not the main character. It is not his story to tell - it's the story of a Magic Woman of Colour.

Bellac’s teeth grinded beneath his lips, forgetting I was even here, “He is MY student!” His eyes turned coal. I didn’t recognize him for one second, and the way his teeth bared like a captured predator-

“Don’t make me say it,” Beylier’s voice dropped, and his head turned slightly sideways in such a way, the light of the candle above us darkened his eyes further. And when Bellac didn’t respond, “You are not his father-“

“I never said I WAS,” Bellac agitatedly replied. Beylier remained unchanged, solid in his form. “If you’re insinuating-“ 

Yeah, Black is way OOC here. Not to mention there's no adequate build-up for the audience to even see the relationship between Black and Arno (guess who's it's centered on, instead?) for this conclusion to be reached. Everyone is fighting over a non-issue: Arno has not been in the field, he hasn't been properly mentored, and he's already being judged as being a senseless, idiotic killer. This isn't his character. Nor is this Rampage Jackson Bellec.

“Arno needs strictness, a guideline to uphold,” the man countered, pointing his whole entire hand to the assassin beside me. “You give him too much freedom; he must know order first.”

Yes, Lore Down Pat cannot dedicate time to Arno's training, but instead alludes to it in a bizarre, confusing amalgamation of nonsense. He 'doesn't know order', he can't do his job, and he needs to be 'straightened out' by Magic Woman of Colour. If the Mentors knew Arno was such a cuck, why did they ever recruit him?

"Damn pisspot shouldn't be held to a leash either. He needs to be free-thinking man, not another mindless revolutionary on the streets." Bellac argued, "What makes you think Elysia has the capacity to do that?”

 You tell her, Bellec. Tell the bitch. She doesn't have the capacity, and she doesn't have the care to do it. But, for the sake of the plot, she will be made to do it because Magic Woman of Colour needs to teach the fucking white male what's up.

Beylier looked at me. Really, looked at me, leveling his hands down so his face was entirely exposed. He didn’t smile nor frown, almost attempting to find the very answer within my cowl.

What? You're not going to find the answer there. Elysia despises Arno - that much is clear. But Les will make it so she'll groom him to be great - as well as being an expert in sucking cock.

He looked to Bellac one last time, “You must realize the seriousness of this…” his stare glided, and even the shaggy assassin paused in his rising temper. “It is out of my hands. It is Mirabeau’s word.”

Mirabeau is an idiot. He should've kicked Elysia out when he had the chance, and now he, too, will suffer the wrath of Zelda Khan.

 “Elysia,” the dark man whispered, as if he suspected that Bellac were pressing his ear right against the door. I had heard him strut angrily down the corridor, long gone. “You must understand this…right?”

“You’re the one who suggested this, weren’t you?” my gold eyes swirled. In it laid the voices, and how they wanted to lather Beylier’s blood across the wall for his careless decision. But…something else within my chest held, and it bothered me, “You might as well tell me the whole truth.”

I certainly don't. I'm at the mercy for Les's shitty storytelling, so I have to go along with this to the very end. After all, it's an alleged 'rewrite'.

 He finished his tea, replenishing his dry throat, “Arno Dorian trusts Bellac….to an exceeding degree.” He rubbed his eyes at this, washing away the strong front he had put up with his comrade moments before, “I noticed it first hand; it was wrong in my place to be so secretive, but I followed them and I witnessed Bellac’s nature.”

“I’m listening.”

“He was cruel; the prison life might not have affected him physically, but there I saw it firsthand…the methods and language he used. It’s no secret that Bellac holds a devasting hatred to Templars, and wishes Arno to follow that in the prior months he’s been teaching him.” Before I could ask, Beylier proceeded, “But the boy isn’t a sheep, and he’s held up thus far.”

I've read numerous stories where Bellec is written as an abusive monster. He isn't. Lore Down Pat ignores his experience as a field agent, and acts shocked he would be so stern towards the Templars given Shay's utter destruction of the Colonial Brotherhood. This also assumes Arno is blind and follows people blindly, when that isn't true. Arno regarded the Brotherhood with skepticism. In this story, he's a UWU cutesy boy toy who seeks Elysia's affection when she is far crueler to Templars and her own employees than Bellec ever is. The motivation for Elysia training Arno is to teach him independent thinking and to guide him away from Black's murderous intents.

I really, really don't think Les is aware of the irony.

“….No, someone like Dorian wouldn’t.” I sighed, averting my gaze to the side, “….How are you so sure the boy will listen to me?”

Logically, he shouldn't, because you're a ruthless cunt. But he will because Les loves her character more than she does fixing the plot of Unity or crafting an interesting plot.

Beylier scoffed a bit at this, and a small grin exposed along his face when I tilted my headed at him, perplexed, “Are you teasing me?”

I scoffed, confused, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Elysia,” Beylier rested the sides of his palms on the desk, revealing the light cream of skin inside his palms, “I trust no one but you to handle this; you are the only one to combat against Bellac, and in due time he will accept your involvement with this truce.” 

Elysia, who went from hating Beylier and Quemar for making her do things she doesn't want to do, is now suddenly submissive because she's being handed a task where she has to take responsibility. Black has to made OOC for this to work, because he was not cruel or bloodthirsty in-game. Of course, Magic Woman of Colour is the 'only one' to fight against that sexist, racist white male. What could go wrong?

I situated myself outside in the Entrance Hall, resting my side against the towering, assassin statue that overlooked the moving river of bodies. The candlelight flickered above, giving the cavern corridor a soft orange, and painting the golden trimming of hung paintings a bright luminosity. 

Soft orange =/= bright luminosity. Not only is the storytelling bad, the use of literary language is, too.

“Good morning, Elysia,” he stood center of Stephen and Clement, all three bowing their heads respectably. He fixed his soft curls, making sure none of them hung low on his forehead, “You don’t usually greet us this way. Is there…a special occasion?”

“You could say that,” I replied lowly. “Today is going to be different; report your findings upstairs, and meet me here when you’re done.” 

The Sweetie Squad is the only group Elysia 'respects': that is, the ones thoroughly cowed by her. What was that about Black being bloodthirsty, again?

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Stephen poked his ear out from within his hood, tilting his head as if to hear my words better. “Ooh, is it a surprise? I bet it’s a surprise.” 

Calling it now: Stephen is going to be the one who fucks Arno.

Bellac had an angry stride about him, and the jolt in his steps always alerted me when he was on the way; it aided in preparing me mentally for whatever assault he was going to burden me with. Despite his harsh arrival, Bellac stood in front of me a yard distance, the light from above cascading to reflect along his aged, slightly scarred face. Each telling a tale, though I only knew half of them. 

Les has a short memory, but I do not. Elysia regularly has a short temper with her employees and her underlings, and they all do their best never to anger her. Said avoidance is not done out of respect, but out of fear. Black went from being hated by Elysia for calling out her shit, to being respected, to back being hated again. This woman cannot make up her mind.

Beside him was Arno Dorian, fidgeting with the sleeves of his cloak, and fixing his hair within his cowl. The brown locks swung down to collect on the top of his cheeks, and the top of his nose glistened a stripe of yellow.

He was so young; imagine seeing him turn into someone like Bellac…..left a sour note in my mouth. 

As compared to you, the woman who steals grain from poor Parisians so her boyfriend can get rich? Didn't tell the Mentors about that, did you? And here you'll be 'correcting' Arno and thoroughly stripping and denaturing his character.

“Bellac,” I prompted back, and looked to Arno. “Boy.”

“Master Elysia,” Arno cleared his throat, rocking his heel back and forth. “Nice to see you again…..” He sounded unsure of this, yet not against it. I wondered what Bellac had told him leading them here. 

Yes, it's such a problem how Bellec will train Arno. You won't even use his name, bitch. He calls you his 'Master', and still you opt for the whip.

Arno reached inside his hood again, but resulted in taking it off to properly fix his hair this time, “I take it he didn’t accept the news well.”

“You could say that,” I agreed, resting a hand on my hip, the other signaling Arno to lift his face, “Once you’ve become acquainted, we’ll set out. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, yes.”

Such a problem. Always getting those white males to kiss your boots. You get him for three days, and you'll 'fix him up' real good, Elysia. Teach him what it truly means to be an Assassin.

The three men came back. Stephen recognized Arno immediately and grinned deviously of the withheld news. James and Clement looked at one another, perplexed why Arno Dorian was here.

I didn’t wait for them to ask, indicating Arno to turn around to face them properly, “James, Stephen, Clement. This is Arno Dorian; he will be joining our team, as stated by the council.” 

Perfect. The Sweetie Squad will take care of Arno real good. Do I hear a threesome in the future? Some good ole gangbangs with Arno taking two cocks at once? What a good boy. It'll perfect character development.

Stephen slid up next to Arno in a sly saunter and flung an arm around his shoulders, "I now dub thee Little Brother, and your job is to listen to us Wiser Elders and not die!" He greeted cheekily, grin widening. 

Les and her co-authors honestly think having 18th century men talk like Oregon college D&D players is 'immersive'. It isn't. It's cringe-worthy. And I'm still calling it that Stephen will fuck Arno. 'Sly saunter' only adds to it.

“You best get used to it,” I answered promptly, and commenced our way out the headquarters, “James is my second in command; if there is an issue you have, you go to him if you feel uncomfortable addressing it to me.” 

No.....why would anyone feel comfortable addressing things to you, Elysia, you perfect brown woman, you.

He shook Arno’s shoulders at this excitedly, "I knew you'd see it my way! I'm persistent like that." Stephen abruptly threw his other arm around Arno’s lean waist to wrap him in a hug. "You'll see that Aunt Elysia's family is much better than Uncle Bellac's family." 

1. No, Elysia is a total bitch. She steals grains for her boyfriend and murders innocents while passing off the blame to Black. Not a leader at all. Also drives her own establishment into bankruptcy. 2. Arno has a tapered waist. Not a woman's waist. Stop thinking men have bishie body types, Les. Go look at what a real man looks like.

"What is he referring to?" Arno was quick to point out the strange tendency, pushing his hand out to distance Stephen’s smothering embrace, “H-Hey-“

Clement held back a scoff, "I think he likes you.”

Arno blinked at this, but a sudden surge of pink trickled at the edges of his cheekbones, “Very funny-“

“What’s he saying? I wanna knoooooow.” 

Yeah, called it. Confirmed now. Nothing like unwanted 'glomping' to establish a character. If this were the actual Arno, he'd tell the guy to fuck off and stop touching him. This Arno is just a one-dimensional queer. Stephen can't even speak French, yet is in the French Brotherhood.

“Stephen….” James came to his needed rescue, pulling at the nape of Stephen’s jacket with gentle care. The young Dorian fixed himself properly, clearing his throat to and glanced about him to assess his current situation. "So how long have you studied under Master Elysia?" he decided to question. Resourceful.

Stephen gave a very small huff of a laugh, expression focused as they walked, “Studied is a very loose term. I've been a Master for a long time, even if it’s not acknowledged here.” 

Oh, so a Master Assassin abuses his position to grope a novice. How quaint. Despite being a Master Assassin, he apparently couldn't learn French and is in a country which does not speak English. Lore Down Pat. Fixing the plot. Fixing, my ass.

It should also be mentioned if you aren't willing to praise the deeds of Magic Brown Mentor bitch, red flags should be raised.

James and Clement were used to that statement by now (whether they had pursued for an answer, I did not know), though Arno was not acquainted with Stephen’s explanations, and didn’t accept it just yet.

“What….do you mean by that?”

Stephan gifted him with a side-eyed look, lips quirked bitterly, “I haven’t always been in France, y’know. Hence, the not understanding the language. The first Brotherhood I started in taught me everything I know. I’ve gone through the trials of becoming a Master through them, and I passed with flying colors.” 

Lips normally don't 'quirk bitterly'. When you're bitter your lips turn down or go into a thin line. Les is an artist. She should know facial expressions. So, again, we have a guy who doesn't speak a lick of French in the French Brotherhood. Les isn't aware of a thing called assimilation. He passed with flying colours, yet didn't take the time to learn the language.

“Oh…”

“But, apparently other Brotherhood Masteries don’t matter to this French Brotherhood.”

Yeah, no, this is bullshit. All of the Brotherhoods, even though they operate separately, do matter to one another. It's the basis of their survival. Lore Down Pat my fucking lily-white ass.

Arno contemplated with a brow raised, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, “So where are you from?”

Stephen’s eyes darted back to the front, his stoic, mission mask possessing him suddenly, “You wouldn’t know the place if I named it…but it’s somewhere in America. It wouldn’t matter to you.” 

If it's on the East Coast, which was settled at this time, it would be an issue. The West Coast? No. If Les decides to make this fucker from California I know her historical research is nonexistent.

“When I say it won’t matter to you, it will probably not matter to you to know it,” Stephen finished, and kept his stare ahead. Though, Stephen wasn’t one to keep a lingering, disturbed mood, and his tune changed at flip of a coin, “But…if you mean being partnered and teaming up with Elysia? I’ll take that. It’s been….three years maybe? It’s hard to remember; time is a difficult thing to keep track of for me.” 

I'm sure he'll open up if you give him a rimjob, Arno. Changing moods at the flip of a coin is also a sign of bipolar disorder, Les. That isn't character development. Three years with another, even more destructive bipolar character will be utter hell I'm sure.

"I imagine someone like Elysia doesn't keep things light," he sighed, and leaned to whisper, "Bellac is a bit easier to get along with."

Clement darted his eyes momentarily toward Stephen’s figure, “…..Depends on who you ask.”

Stephen muttered under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like Bellac is an asshole. James caught it, and smacked the back of his palm against Stephen’s chest who lightly grunted in surprise. “You know it’s true…” he lowly relinquished.

You know it's bad characterization when the Sweetie Squad, who is afraid of angering their mentor, says Black is the 'asshole'. Degrading a character to elevate your own is prime Mary Sue status, a feature I thought was left behind back in 2012. I certainly didn't expect to see it on AO3, given the amount of M/M pairings which negates the need for female characters at all. I'm sure any morally ambiguous moment Elysia has will be written off - and considering Arno is already being written as a bumbling idiot, this is going to be one long ride down the Hell highway.

"Okay, interested,” he stretched his arms out, rocking on his heel again to lengthen his leg out momentarily. “What will you have me do now then? Surely I've given you a promising idea of what I'm capable of." 

Yeah. I hate this quirky Arno. This is not how he acts at all. He's an introvert, not an UWU extrovert.

Stephen didn't bother hiding his cackle. He leaned into James, letting the other support him as mirth coated his voice, “Maybe we should call him Problem Child, huh?" Even Clement couldn’t hide his amusement at this, and suddenly Arno’s triumphant smile faltered, leaving him with a full-on bashful smear along his hardened cheeks. 

Arno is definitely going to be a blushing bride this whole story, isn't he? Les thinks he's making him cute, or adding depth. She's not. Only thing she's deepening is his rectum for the future anal pounding he'll be getting from the Sweetie Squad.

I narrowed my eyes, but a smile played, immediately earning a worried glance from the regretful boy, “Actually, no. I haven’t seen what you’re capable of. Why don’t you show us?” I snatched the back of his coat, and dragged him to the edge of the Siene River where he momentarily flailed his arms to regain balance. I surveyed the structures, but found what I was looking for. 

Oh yes, he should be afraid of you, Magical Woman of Colour. Not like you showed what you thought of him the first time around. Logically, he should be aware you're a difficult woman to please, and are incredibly angry and vindictive. He should have remembered your outburst at the Café, but apparently he as well as the authors did not. In any case, this prostration is already grating - and it hasn't even started yet.

It wasn’t hard to keep up with him this time. Many obstacles slowed his sprint, but I had to give him credit...Arno could move.

He abused scaffoldings and ramps without a thought, and I was almost positive he didn’t care whether they would hold or fall until he got there. His leaps were forceful and long along the tiled rooftops, tossing his body willingly that he looked like a monkey of sorts from how his arms waved to grab the next holding. Each leap pushed with function, fingers nimble and swift to grip the metal bars, stone edges, and window sills that came his way.

Figures the only time Magical Woman of Colour would praise Arno is on his freerunning skills. In fact, this is the only positive thing I've ever heard coming out of Elysia's mouth. I suspect it'll be few and far inbetween.

“Good,” I admitted, resting my hip against the stone railing, a large rose window of the church looming behind us. “You utilize your environment when needed, and abuse your body’s capabilities to enforce your next movements. You’re agile.”

Arno grinned broadly.

I replied next, “Now, your test.”

“……Test? Was that not it?” Arno leaned back when I stood in front of him, easily towering with my hands on my hips. 

Elysia is taken as being taller than 5'7, which is what Arno's height is assumed to be. However, his height changes multiple times in-game. He'll stand at equal height with Napoleon one moment, and be slightly taller than him at the next. I would like to think he is 5'11. So, by all accounts, he should be taller than Elysia with her sassy 'hands on hip' pose.

"How long do you think before we have to bail him out?" Stephen asked, peeking his head over in interest. Arno dropped with a soft thud onto the grassy floor, shuffling through the crowd of pedestrians once he stepped onto the street.

"I'll give him the benefit of doubt," James answered.

“How long do you think he’ll last, Clement?” I translated a moment after. The bulkier man merely raised three fingers without even looking to us, making James stare.

"Three minutes?" 

This is what happens when you have an uppity Latina write fic: she will constantly degrade established characters in order to uplift her own. She cannot stop writing Arno as incompetent when it is shown he took to his Assassin role quickly. He was a gifted Assassin. Bellec saw that, but here, Bellec is taken out of the picture so Elysia can 'fix' him. Lore Down Pat. Three authors. 40 pages of pure, stinking shit.

Arno again maneuvered his way about, pressing his thin body behind several monuments of the stationary graves, making sure not to make himself noticeable to the patrolling group that stopped and scanned the area. He was silent as a mouse, again resourceful to use the obstacles in the field to hide his lean figure. 

Arno is lean, yes, but he's pretty thick in the chest and thighs. Are you sure you don't remember what he looks like, Les?

Stephen hummed quietly in this throat, his bangs escaping his hood as he tilted his head to the side, “He's got good form. We're not gonna have to break bad habits, so far."

Motherfucker, you can't even speak French. You have no room to judge. You're allegedly a "Master Assassin" and yet have to obey this Gypsy bitch's every command. This destruction of Arno's character is truly an insult.

"Arno does well by himself from what I've noticed...but the real question is how does he handle pressure, and if he's flexible to adapt depending on the situation." James added.

If he was trained by Bellec, this wouldn't be an issue. This is Cuckboy Arno, who'll get condemned for every action he makes. I'm sure Elysia will poo-pah his every decision.

“What the hell was that?” Arno quipped with an advance, standing himself up and semi-glaring up at me. Such a small, easily-offended gremlin.

“Thomas is the gravekeeper stationed near Notre Dame, and he is well trained in catching thieves who try to take his keys,” I informed passively.

“You knew??”

“Everyone behind me took the same test; you’re the only one who failed,” I crossed my arms, “You should ask questions next time, rather than just jumping into situations foolishly.” He couldn’t help himself, obviously hurt that I had played some sort of trick on him. 

Easily offended, says the Magic Woman of Colour who steals grain and hates every single one of her co-Mentors when they disagree with her. Fucking. Ironic. I also have to love how Arno is treated as the single failure when he clearly does not possess any of his pragmatic skills. Eagle Vision? No. Watching his surroundings? No. The Sweetie Squad managed to do it, yet Arno couldn't because he 'doesn't ask questions'. Nothing like making a character OOC to prop up your absolute cunt of an OC.

“Until then, we won’t mention it. We’re unclear of how much information has been released, and Sophie didn’t exactly brief me entirely on the matter,” I answered. “From what I do know: this Élisabeth is planning to leave the city, and with haste. We are to retrieve the painting as fast as possible.”

- Says Arno doesn't ask enough questions.

- Openly says she doesn't know enough about the mission because she didn't ask enough questions/ Trenet didn't tell her everything about the mission.

OK for me, but not for thee, to act like an ignorant fool.

And despite all this socializing and human interactions, that didn’t hide the scuffles of various people, their raised voices of overpriced goods, nor the overturned wagons that had been ransacked of every valuable thing and part. Skeletons they remained, burnt to dark crisps the nights before in protest by the people. 

Irony, coming from the woman who stole grain deliveries so her little boy-toy - who makes her blush as much as Arno - can get rich. Elysia can get away with this and then some, all the while insulting Arno for 'not thinking' and 'not asking questions.'

“We are not always welcomed to where we are invited. Keep that in mind,” I replied after. “Or you’ll get your head stuck in the clouds.”

"The idea never even arrived in my mind." Arno retorted, his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling.

Or, you can do what Elysia and her creator do: cry racism until you get what you want. Every time Elysia opens her mouth to give a lecture, she chastises herself without realizing it; she reveals her own flaws. Note that these flaws do not make her a three-dimensional or relatable character, but an atrociously written one.

“I have a rival here by the name of Adélaïde… Adélaïde Labille-Guiard. We were admitted to the Academia on the same day in fact. If not them...the only other one I can imagine could be Jacques-Louis David."

"The painter?" Arno remarked with raised brow, familiar with the name it appeared. “The David? He’s here?”

"Yes, he's...a difficult man to say the least," she acknowledged.

Since Les is an artist (and a terribly shitty one, I might add), I would assume she knows who David is. He was a revolutionary painter, and of course he's going to be a target. Nothing like eliminating one of the biggest painters of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic period!

Also, curious Les mentions the Academie. At this time, it had only recently begun accepting women, before the Jacobins had thrown them out. It is unclear whether Les and her co-authors will actually include that piece of history, but going off what's written here, I'd say it's a no-go.

“You’re coming with me,” I rebounded, crossing my arms. “So I can watch you.”

He pouted. 

Of course! Where would he be without you, dear Elysia? You perfect, wonderful, tolerant Woman of Colour, you?

His wavy hair was shifted to the left side, some bangs plastered on his forehead from the sweat he gathered of moving about. He had large eyes and a small mouth, but it was foolish to even think that this man was humble and quiet. His neck was covered entirely in a neck piece, an expensive looking blouse adoring his upper chest with clean pants. A muddled apron of various, earthy-colors was wrapped around his waist.

“Baah....what is this interruption for? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He waved a hand, displaying an occupied canvas. “Make it quick, so you may be on your way.”

What, you mean Elysia doesn't know French culture or who David is? For shame. Here she is chastising Arno for his ignorance, when he probably knows more about the guy than she does! Pick up a newspaper once, Elysia.

Anyways, yes, David was known to be difficult to work with. But he was also enthusiastic, fiercely independent, and a genius. Les would like to portray Elysia like that, but all she managed to get what 'fiercely bitchy'.

I kept my peace, though tried to level my eyes with David as I saw Arno moving about beside me, clearly absorbed by something else. Uncontrolled and distracted.

Les really does think she's fixing the plot, doesn't she? She can't even get his character right. Arno is not easily distracted. Uncontrollable via independent, sure. But he's not an idiot. He's very attentive and analytical. Les doesn't understand this, despite having the Lore Down Pat. Eventually, it'll get to the point where I'll make to make another comment on her work again - and I'll see if it manages to get past the censors.

“Absolutely not,” he defended, tipping an oiled brush into the palette he held in his other hand. “Why on earth would I lay hands on that painting?”

“You are giving me reasons to think otherwise,” I answered, narrowing my eyes.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh here comes the tough bitch!

“Listen-“ he put the palette down, but didn’t let go of the brush, “I am aware most painters in this academy have a lot of differing views, but it remains fact that despite that, I would never lay my hands on another person’s work.”

“You know which one is missing then,” I recited.

“Yes I have seen the painting, yes I knew it was in that room, and yes, I knew Élisabeth is moving to another country the very next day, but there is no logical reason why I would carry about such an act on impulse. We have argued, but I respect Élisabeth for her skills and personality.

I would like to point out this art thief plot takes place in the same building, with all of said suspects in the same building and where the painting is still located. Not only can Les not write a plot, she can't even write a good mystery.

"You must be referring about Le Brun's then." She batted an eye to them, "I haven't seen it since she painted it. It was on a large canvas, easily accessible to everyone here but it would've been obvious someone was trying to run off with it."

"So, you're denying any involvement in this?"

"I've been painting the whole time yesterday since the morning and into the last evening...you can ask the guard when he makes his rounds," she quipped. Stephen eyed her, somewhat bothered of her rude tone. 

Whenever Elysia and the Sweetie Squad wants to trash Arno for his alleged incompetence, I will constantly point to their own actions and lack of foresight when it comes to their actions: how they can't seem to understand a painting stolen, and still kept, in an art museum with all suspects present is a really shitty game of 'Clue'. Or, how they didn't ask questions beforehand - Trenet 'wasn't honest enough' with Elysia. Fine for them, but wrong for Arno.

“In any case you’re wasting your time. It’s a portrait she can recreate, and no need to be so uptight about. I’ve seen it, it’s adequate for what it is but it’s not worth this.” She flipped to a new page, and focused her attention to the marble statue situated in the grounds, clearly influenced by the nude statues from Italy. “Is there anything else you want to ask of me? If not, then leave me in peace.” 

I like this quote because it expresses my thoughts on Les's art perfectly: adequate (not really), but not worth the prices she charges. It's easily recreated and she wants people to toss out a hundred dollars so she can buy food. A starving artist indeed.

"....My wife fears for this revolution that’s knocking on our doorstep," he rubbed his neck, seeming exhausted, "She has many royal commissioners and in the eyes of those that want the royalists gone...she could be seen as a sympathizer. It's...it hasn't been easy lately...considering she wants to protect our daughter as well." 

You want to know how this could be avoided, Lore Down Pat? Have your artist paint revolutionary motifs. There. Protected. Or have her join the Jacobin clubs. Extra security. Paul Barras did it. I doubt Les will even incorporate him.

"Just because she's a woman; she's more than capable of out-showing every person in this academy, including him! Damn this Revolution, and politics and the like. Why can't the people just get along, and come up with a solution for those who are suffering. Like us, who have no choice but to make life-changing decisions for the sake of being safe, and alive??"

While there was a valid complaint of sexism at this time - especially since blacks and Jews were given the vote, but not women - female artists were a lot more common than Les's twitter feeds would suggest. Plenty of women like Madame Pompadour commissioned plenty of artists, and it wouldn't shock me to see a few women there. The Academie was mostly for scientific and philosophical degrees, and Robespierre had argued on behalf of women for them to be accepted. Does Les know this? Probably not. Elysia doesn't give a shit.

“What’s your assessment?” I decided to ask, making Arno turn in surprise of my interrogation.

“Hmm...he sure has a way of validating his sense of entitlement-“

“Focus,” I redirected.

He reeled back, quirking his mouth, “I think David is at fault...but we’ll have to see what everyone else says…..”

Arno, Arno, Arno. Try to be pragmatic - but Les won't let you. He's supposed to be analytical, and he can't see David has no bone to pick or sees any worth in that painting. Why? He's trying to make a living, and it's dead obvious the husband did it. Or there'll be some twist I don't see to add to this dumb Clue plot. IDK.

“You don’t think...” James narrowed his eyes.

“The painting must still be in the building. It has to be,” Stephen finished, earning an impressed look from Arno. 

So...it's not even stolen. It's still in the damn building. Wow.

"You have a point." James agreed, scratching at the scruff on his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, James clapped his hands together and opened his palm to the area around them, "If it's between Adélaïde and Jean, we have to consider between the two of them who has the most knowledge of the building...who knows the patrol, how to handle the painting. Both understand what needs to be done to handle it, but getting through the patrols and the building to hide something?"

The art thief was an inside job, the French did 9/11

"Tracking is a risk if we don't have anything to follow," I replied next, gazing along the floor. We came to the door leading outside where the bench remained occupied. Adélaïde was still there from what James had confirmed, though this time she was standing, fully engrossed in her sketchbook with her face practically on the page itself. 

Uh, no. You're figuring out a so-called art thief plot, tracking is what you do when you don't have direct evidence. I'm glad Les studied art and not things like logic, that would require thinking. 

"Now it's my turn," I stepped into view, and eying the short woman who hugged her book to her chest, blinking rapidly of my interruption.

"Who are you? Another one?"

I rested my hands on my hips, tilting my head, "My name is Elysia, and surely, you would be kind enough to answer the questions I have.”

Ohhhh here comes the sassy Woman of Colour again. As if this Adelaide chick wasn't obvious. A woman asking random dudes to find a painting she herself stole? Obvious.  

“I believe I have given enough to satisfy your informant,” she cemented. Bothered.

“I’m not easily satisfied,” I countered. 

Noo....if you were, we wouldn't be here, would we? The perils of being a shitty character.

"You can't be serious." She prompted a leg out, giving me an agitated stance, "Someone like you wouldn't appreciate the arts. It is futile I show you something that I have shown no one else."

"It's not a request. You wish to clear your name? Then you will show us the piece."

"..............Very well then. Follow me." She led us back inside the building. 

Nah, Elysia doesn't like French culture and French people in general. Les doesn't care about the arts either, because her art is shit. Mouths? Nah. Straight lines and neon colours will do.

"You like to draw women a lot," I pointed out before setting my eyes on the main one before me.

She kept poised, "Women are easier on the eyes...don't you think?"

I took a step forward, examining the fresh, thick strokes, resting my chin in my hand, "....You're not wrong. How long have you been painting?" 

Elysia, like Les, says she doesn't like men too much. Yet when a certain man arrives who doesn't take her shit and is appropriately masculine, she swoons. Les says she's lesbian, yet writes, draws, and loves gay men having sex. Particularly white men. Have the white fever, girl? It's OK. I know you'd call them a rapist if they approached you in real life.

"Hmmm...yes and no," she commenced, and I didn't interrupt her. "When you see a highly respected piece, you start to question if everything you had been doing had been worth it....and that changes you as a person. You start to question a lot of things in your life, not just art....and David did that. He brought growth...but it came with its share of controversy. Students, of all different upbringings come into the Louvre, and go to him in hopes that the talent he possesses will somehow...rub off on them. But...that is never the case." 

This is Les talking: she is describing what it feels like when an artist like her sees art pieces by grander, more talented artists. She feels inadequate and uninspired. Of course, you feel 'inspired', yet you never actually want to change. That's why moderated comments were introduced: to control the flow of criticism. 

"What usually happens?"

"Students grow.... insecure, disappointed. They hate everything they create, and never pick up a brush ever again. It's depressing...they become depressed." She replied, fixing the locket resting on her collarbone. "....I hit a point like that in my life. I never wanted to paint again; the tier had been set too high, and every consumer who steps within these walls....they want nothing but.....a David. It's an impossible task, unless you are him." 

I know this is the author speaking, because she has tweeted similar things. Basically, artists getting criticized is wrong because it 'devalues' and depresses them. Instead of taking the criticism and improving, they internalize it and subsequently demand safe spaces where they cannot be criticized. If Les was ever told her art, and her writing, was absolute garbage and she really needed to improve without others taking up the slack and workload for her. Mediocrity kills - and this will be a slow death.

She scoffed at this, and smiled, a little, "It was futile to ever be like David...but I can be someone greater." She nodded firmly, and clutched her necklace in her fist, "I can be a better painter, a better Adélaïde. Someone out there will like my paintings, the works I create. I....No one should strive for the impossible....but for the greatness they themselves can achieve. A stroke per day is better than none at all." 

Yeah, no. David was a genius. Are you a genius? If you were, you'd be landing art deals regardless if you were a woman or not. Like Hildegard or Hypatia, men would be seeking your approval because even 'sexists' are cowed by genius. David was a celebrated painter. You? You're just a random. 

"A few. Perhaps four girls, half the age of you but full of potential. I try to instill them with those values because for them, the world will be ever harsher and critical to their successes."

I would like to think this applies to the sexism of the era, but this applies more to artists like Les refusing to admit their art sucks and instead blames everyone else on not believing in their greatness. Protip: if your aren't wasn't garbage, you wouldn't be begging for donations on Ko-Fi. You'd be selling prints at reasonable prices and they'd be flying off the shelves. Being a great artist involves more than painting life: it involves knowing the market. You rely on a gift economy. This will end your career.  

"Indeed...thus is the challenges of life. To live in defiance of it all is better than to not have lived at all." James patted my shoulder, giving me the signal, "I think our time may be up on questioning Mademoiselle Adélaïde. Again, I apologize taking time out of your day. If you can excuse us." 

Funny. Arno is a defiant character, skeptical of the Creed, and yet James and Elysia can have these epic speeches while trashing him for holding the same views. It must be because he's a fucking white male.

I slowly made my way across, and this…somewhat alarmed her. Her eye’s darted back and forth between the door and me, her feet somewhat shuffling to bypass me. I blocked her way, and stood right in front of her, the new painting on her right, it being on my left.

I stretched an arm out, and leisurely did my fingers grip onto the edge of the thick material, “You’re a pretty girl. But you know what…you’re not pretty good at lying.” 

And you're pretty bad at noticing things, Elysia. A painting within a painting? Clever, but if the oil wasn't totally dried you should've noticed it. Hell, just ask Arno to use Eagle Vision. He'd notice it straightaway. Or your own Twilight manic pixie dust. 

Nah, that's too complicated.

“Where does that put Élisabeth then?” I angled, tilting my head. “Oddly enough you had so much to say about David….and yet you put her in this inspirational stage. Like…she means something to you.” Adélaïde said nothing, instead staring with scrutiny.

She guarded her chest and pointed her chin up towards me, "I may put her on a pedestal for we are only women in a world run by men, but make no mistake, she is still my competition." 

Hehe, she's saying that to a sexist who doesn't want equality with men and instead denigrates them at every turn - just like her creator. Nothing like a patriarchy plot.

"Hmm...this was nothing but some wild chase. Good news is, it's over," I crossed my arms, judgingly staring at the trio who walked ahead of us. Stephen none too shy to wrap his arm around Arno’s shoulders, then both of them greeting the semi-grown kitten Clement had brought long ago.

So........why was it put here in the first place?

"It is indeed." James allowed the teasing moment to continue, taking a step ahead to walk backwards in front of me, "You did say earlier that you trusted us sooooo I can only presume we'll be having a steady course ahead.” 

Imagine having a Mentor who doesn't even trust her pupils and yet criticizes Arno for his mistakes. Man, I love these contradictions!

"Instincts? Then they've been contradictory from the beginning if that's the case," I shook my head, letting the feeling settle. "I'm unsure about the Dorian boy."

Of course you are. You've doubted his talents from the get-go. He's simply nothing compared to you. Instead of telling the Mentors this, they put him on you because he 'needs to learn'. Right. Learn by a hypocrite who inspires no faith, trust, or accomplishment in her underlings. 

Damn right your instincts are contradictory. Elysia is simply not held to mortal standards.

"A bit...hasty and quick to judge...." James hummed thoughtfully, "But with the right guidance I think he'd make a fine assassin."

"Now you're speaking the impossible," I gave him a look, "Unless your hunch says otherwise. You really think he can reach that high?" 

Let's reiterate: Elysia doesn't even trust, or inspire trust, in those she teaches. She runs business into the ground. She steals grain from Parisians. She price fixes. She engages in stupid treasure hunts which serve no purpose. She insults and despises her fellow Mentors. She hates everyone and everything around her, and yet expects and wants a family. There is no redeeming someone like this. Like the coronavirus, they need to be quarantined and allowed to burn out to nothingness.

Elysia won't be offering a 'right hand', but Stephen, the Brit who doesn't speak French, will.

"I think he'll have to face many hurdles and a lot of inner demons to get to that point..." James replied with a steady expression, "No one really starts off with greatness in hand, sometimes they have to learn it through trial and errors."

"Then you must have a lot of faith.” I scoffed, and gave him one last look, “You better have enough for the both of us."

This is going to be a trend. Les does not have the Lore Down Pat; she cannot write any characters in character and they are constantly emasculated compared to her character. This isn't proper character development, this is destructive development. You are destroying the levees in New Orleans and letting Hurricane Katrina rip through. Canon? What canon? Arno staying in character? No, he'll be a one-dimensional queer, written by a lesbian who doesn't like white men but loves reading them fucking.

This chapter, consisting of 40 pages, is a trend: Les and her co-authors don't know how to trim the fat off a story. If a chapter is going to be this long, it should cover a lot of ground, explain the plot, and have adequate detail. Les thinks writing scores of useless dialogue, cucking characters, and making speeches about the patriarchy will interest readers. She never did any research for her Brotherhood story, so I do not expect her to do it here. She thinks the Eiffel Tower was built in 1789, ffs. Really showing that one-standard deviation below average IQ, eh ese?

Co-authors should tell each other when passages become redundant, otherwise it will grate on the reader. In this case, length precedes proper story-telling: and no one thought to tell Les bright colours cannot cover up shitty execution.