Enola Rossingol's Journal Entry 7
Warning: mentions of blood and kidnapping
25th of December, 1755
Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day you gave it away
1755, what a year it has been for all of us. It’s been months since Haytham packed his things and moved back to London. He did not tell me what else he was up to, but I wish I could go.
The only thing that matters right now is relaxing my body. This year has been a bloody one, and it will continue to be one. The noblemen don’t know I’m carrying a child, his child. It’s something I’m worried about all the time. I only wish to be comfortable, I wish to be thinking about when Haytham is coming home. Instead, I’m fearing for my life. Every step I take, every sound in the house, even the crackling of the fire doesn’t help. I can’t sleep now like I did last night.
I wish this snowstorm would cease so I can visit Pitcairn and Hickey. Even though I can’t stand Hickey’s drunken nonsense, it’s company. I hope next Christmas he’s coming home…
25th of December, 1756
Turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime
I am running, running and running. Celeste is buried in my coat I borrowed from Johnson, and I wrapped her small head in a warm cloth that I ripped from my pillowcase. 5 more months until she is 1, and her face looks a lot like mine, but she has Haytham’s eyes and hair, all for me to reminisce every day.
I’m dashing through the snow, this cold, unbearable snow, from redcoats that think they can take my baby. They already stormed by a few minutes ago, and I let one of them look down at her. Panic ensued, I grabbed her from their arms, afraid for her safety, I put one heel on the ground and I could not stop myself from making my escape. Now I hear them shooting at me, and I hear the sounds of Celeste’s cries, knowing she’s just as scared as I am. She’s my baby, she deserves to be with her mother, not with dirty, vulgar men like them.
A gunshot rang out in my ears, I felt a small ball drop beside me, too close to my leg. Again, another shot, this time I fall onto the snow mound, and I hear Celeste’s cries grow louder. The first thing I see is a trace of red right where my purple coat stops, the sight alone makes me worried if I can get up. Footsteps follow as I hold Celeste closer to my chest.
“Shhh, darling. Please stay quiet for mommy.” I try to hush her cries, cradling her head against my clothed breast, kissing her head oh so many times. For a few moments after, it’s silence. The eerie silence, a silence I wish never happened again.
I look up to see the trees and snow around us, but no redcoats, which I am grateful for. When I start to get myself up from the snow, I feel a gush come out of my leg, and more red stains the snow. I see a man with a tricorn hat rushing over to me. Oh, John, if only I could say thank you.
The next thing I remember is I’m lying on one of my guest beds, and a doctor with a few of my servants surround me. This is where I panic again, wondering where Celeste is. Even as I look around the room, I panic, hoping who I saw was only a dream. Over in the corner, next to a grey fireplace and across from the doctor’s bag on the brown armchair, I see John [Pitcairn] cradling Celeste in his arms, wearing his redcoat uniform, smiling over at me. From his features, I could tell Celeste was going to be alright.
Not a moment too soon, and the doctor tells me I’ll make a full recovery. After a few cloth bandages and a few happy cries from my maids, they exit the room, leaving the three of us together. Slowly, John makes his way towards me, and I can only smile in the way I know best, motherly and lovingly. He leans his head close to mine, to whisper something to me in his sweet, thick Scottish accent: “You have the face of an angel.” A smile from him, a smile that brightened up my heart made me feel comforted, safe, and secure.
If that was a flirt, I never noticed. If I had the heart, and the mind to say what I feel, I would have. I kept my mouth shut, towards my best friend. The married soldier that held my daughter like a father should.
25th of December, 1757
Baby, please come home
No letters, no thoughts nor feelings. The Grand Master worries me sometimes. Especially now, I wish I could be with him. Celeste and I are spending Christmas with Amais and his tribe. It’s not fun without my other friends with me, hopefully, I will see you soon.
Maybe next Christmas…
25th of December, 1758
All is calm, all is bright
Celeste came over to the Manor yesterday, and I spent it with her. She’s learning the native language very well, and her English is improving by the minute. Amias looks very handsome as well, maybe in another life I would have been with him. Sometimes, I feel like Celeste is his child, but my mind knows it is not.
Today is very special. Haytham is here, and so are Charles, Thomas, William, John, and Benjamin. I invited them over to the Manor for Christmas, and I am so, so joyful. We went out into the snow and acted like little children. I think I became more of a child than anyone else. I just felt like everything was alright, that time stopped just for today. Shay and Alanna were here as well, bonding is so much fun!
For dinner, it was a nice big banquet, though I regret having one due to all the violence happening around us. It paused for today, but it will continue tomorrow.
In the night, I sat beside Haytham, and I listened to his words, but when I realized he was talking about how much he misses Ziio, it made me think about Celeste. Did he ever get my letter? Maybe he’ll talk about how I was.
At that time, I never knew his hand clenched mine, the way his fingers touched the back of my palm. As I looked up at his sad, old eyes, I felt a hand on my shoulder and his eyes flickered. He turned his head towards me, his lips curled up into a loving smile, and he planted a kiss on my forehead, temple, and lips. His free hand moved to tilt my chin up to gaze at his face more. When I did, I could see his eyes, lips, and nose, and how sweet and handsome he looked.
The others had to go after a few more minutes, but I felt so happy. I can’t describe the words on paper, but what I felt for this moment, is something I want painted and framed. They told Haytham and me farewell, and the men kissed my hand or my cheek while Alanna wrapped her arms around me.
Tonight, as I write this paragraph, I will sleep like a baby. Haytham is waiting for me in bed, and I couldn’t be happier in my words and emotions. Christmas is the best time of the year.
(It’s snowing where I am right now and it brought me into a Christmas mood early. So I’ve been listening to Christmas songs writing these entries.)
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Sequence 9 deserves its own post.
O YEA THIS IS THE BEST SHIT EVER.
THE WAY HAYTHAM JUMPS HIM FROM THE RAFTERS
Technically, dad. Aren't these your first words..?
WHAT is this grin Haytham WHAT IS THIS FACE-
HOW'S THAT FOR AN INTRODUCTION-
OH their dialogue is golden.
Haytham even calls it banter please.
EVERY SINGLE TIME CONNOR WANTS TO SPARE SOMEONE HAYTHAM SHOOTS THEM INSTEAD.
We love us some hereditary eagle vision amiright fellas.
OH GEE THANKS DAD!
He takes charge almost by default it's amusing as it is annoying *for Connor*
The way they can scale the roof tops together completely side by side without a single delay from either of them is really awesome.
I cannot get over the way the rapport was written from the word 'go' it's like they don't even MEAN to banter it just HAPPENS this way it's SO FUCKIN' FUNNY.
WHEN HE INTRODUCED CONNOR AS HIS SON HE LOOKED SO STUNNED.
Connor like "DID I HEAR THIS RIGHT??"
And..I never want to hear someone describe someone's mother as 'forest fruit' ever fucking again what the actual hell.
(Yes I'm aware it's period typical racism, and accurate racism depiction but DAMN)
Damn, Haytham's face when Connor tells him about Ziio..I get the sense that, even for as far off the deep end he's gone, he was being honest here.
Which, I do believe he's being completely honest. But as Connor rightfully points out:
Haytham's regrets don't change that. Nothing is going to change what Connor has to live with. The truth of what happened.
HAYTHAM. shsjsakjsdankasdknsakj-
Dad, if you keep getting in my stuff about my sailing I WILL be throwing you overboard.
..And he took Benjamin PERSONALLY.
Well! Suit yourself then.
ENJOY HELL.
"Good job on the assassinating m'boy" (Couldn't decide which cap I like better, uploaded both)
Aww Connor apologizing to Achilles. And he's got that shiny idealism again. And it's so damned EARNEST. The man genuinely has a good heart but the world is content to just keep STOPPING ON IT. And telling Connor it's bad to have one. Everyone has told him so too. But he hasn't lost hope yet and to be honest I sort of hope that he never does. He deserves to have that thread of happiness in him.
And honestly, even though we know this only has one outcome (tragedy) there's that earnest hopefulness in Connor that, if they did just work together they could be allied. And he could appreciate his dad properly. And Haytham him in turn. Obviously that's just not going to happen: given the fact Haytham continues to ally with Lee even though he burned Connor's mother alive. And that their ideals are just too opposed, it's still painful to see Connor having that spark. It's something he'd deserve but AGH.
Probably not, but Connor's hope here is endearing as it is tragic.
(Obviously he has a perfectly suitable father figure in Achilles, but the peace glasses that Connor wears make it so that yeah, this is automatically going to be something he wants-and who could blame him?) even knowing the inevitable of it all.
ANYWAY THIS WAS AS FUNNY AS IT WAS HEARTBREAKING I'M IN SHATTERS, TATTERS.
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