Memory is a record.
People only have substance within the memories of other people. And that’s why there were all kinds of myself. There weren’t a lot of myself per se, I was just inside all sorts of people, that’s all.
mintsui:

“he followed me home.”
yeah ezio, keep bringing home those templars. i’m sure nobody’s having second thoughts about making you grandmaster.
sort of an omake i totally made earlier. don’t mess with me, tumblr! also holy shit i like tags

mintsui:

“he followed me home.”

yeah ezio, keep bringing home those templars. i’m sure nobody’s having second thoughts about making you grandmaster.

sort of an omake i totally made earlier. don’t mess with me, tumblr! also holy shit i like tags