abraxaslogs | (open) a million miles from home, I'm walking ahead

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(open) a million miles from home, I'm walking ahead

Who: Altaïr & OTA
What: An Assassin gets a feel for Abraxas; catch-all for the first part of the month
When: Early August
Where: Mostly Cadens

It takes more than a day spent in this strange new world before Altaïr truly accepts that this is not some delusion, a grand vision sent by the Apple or his master from beyond the grave — and even then he can't be fully certain of anything. But he did not survive Al Mualim's phantoms by denying what he sees in front of him, no matter how outlandish.

What is, is, and that means he must respond as an Assassin does. Learn the land. Observe the people. Hide in plain sight.

rooftop parkour;
He'd taken to the roofs almost immediately, and that's not something that changes with the passing of time. Not yet, anyway. It will take a while to learn Cadens as an Assassin truly needs to know it, including all the boltholes and escape routes on multiple levels. He spends at least a couple of hours during each of these early days observing, mapping, and simply free-running for its own sake; it keeps his muscles strong and his skills sharp. He doesn't expect to run into anyone else, and if anyone happens to see him skitter up or down a building ~~like a lizard~~, well, he's not particularly bothered, as long as they're not a guard.

rooftop napping;
Eventually, he has to sleep, but not in the barracks. Altaïr is not under anyone's command and has no intention of allowing himself to be coerced into military service. Instead, having acquired* several linens, pillows and some hay from a nearby stable, he makes a place for himself tucked into a reasonably comfortable spot atop a rooftop, where he's unlikely to be spotted from below.

He's a light sleeper, but in the unlikely event that someone else is inclined to walk the rooftops, a recently liberated** knife rests under his pillow. Hopefully no one wakes up him up while standing too close.

*stolen
**also stolen

library & museum;
If being here has any benefit, it's that he can learn. Once his immediate needs are taken care of, Altaïr makes a point of spending time at both the library and numerous museums. In Cadens, it's not necessary that he take on the guise of a scholar, but if it were he would certainly fit the part; he gathers piles of books, surrounding him at a study table in stacks, and rapidly jots down notes and scribbles sketches at exhibits. It almost seems like the only reason he leaves is because he's kicked out at closing time.

desert;
Having acquired a sword, he's able to borrow a horse from a man who came to the conclusion that anyone who could afford such a fine weapon would clearly be coming into further funds soon. He may or may not be wrong, though Altaïr has every intention of returning his mount; he only wants to venture a little ways into the desert, extending his knowledge of the landscape by no more than a day's ride into the wilds.

Once he's far enough away from Cadens, he's not particularly surprised to hear the sudden sound of other hoofbeats, nor is he bothered by the appearance of bandits, who demand that he dismount his horse and hand over his money. Altaïr could inform them that they've made a poor choice of victim in more than one sense, but instead he smiles and reaches for his new blade.

Should anyone come along, he doesn't truly need the assistance, but they're welcome to join in if they like.

[ooc note - Feel free to tag this in action brackets or prose format, I picked one for the top level but I truly don't care which — I'll match you. Also, for the rooftops prompts, please keep in mind that Altaïr will be moving relatively quietly, so anyone who wants to spot a weirdo doing parkour should be fairly observant/prone to looking up...but he's still a weirdo doing rooftop parkour so it's not that hard to spot him.

If you'd like to try a different scenario, hit me up at my ooc intro/cr meme thread or on plurk at

effervescible!]

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Honestly, Diana doesn't spend much time on the rooftops of Cadens. She prefers to be among the people when she's in the city, walking her usual unofficial patrol routes and helping out anyone who happens to need a hand. It's during one of these late afternoon rounds that she happens to see a shadow that seems out of place, to say the least. Keen eyes dart upwards, and she sees a man running across the roofs, quick and nimble, as if he were born to it. She's impressed with his agility, and her eyes track him as he moves, though it's clear he means to remain hidden.

Impressed, and now curious.

She sees him again, just once or twice, over the next few days. She decides to see if she can catch up to him, to ask him what he's even doing up there. He never seems to be holding anything of note, so it isn't as if he's transporting goods up there so he can avoid the foot traffic on the ground. She leaps to the top of one of the buildings where she's seen him before, and wanders across the roofs for a little while, wondering where he might be.

When she finds him, it's entirely by accident.

She leaps from the top of the next building over, a few stories taller than the one he's resting on. She doesn't do any kind of fancy tuck-and-roll maneuver, instead just landing in a slightly crouched position, pleased when nothing beneath her cracks or splinters from the impact. She's getting better at controlling the shock of her landings. She looks up and spots him, distinctly not a part of the rooftop, and her eyes go a little wide whether or not he's already up on his feet. She straightens, still sounding surprised, but also a little pleased with herself

"Oh, I found you!"

Edited 2022-08-12 00:18 (UTC)

Altaïr is a light sleeper by nurture and by training, to the point that it may as well also be by nature after so many years. Even in the safety is Masyaf's walls, he wakes easily, because the dangers outside their fortress are so many. He woke up many times his first night or two here as he acclimated to the sounds, gained a better sense of the city.

He hasn't slept in the same place twice, but this is perhaps the best of the little nooks he's identified. If he doesn't sleep deeply, he at least sleeps deeper, immune to the late afternoon light. A city cannot but known only in the day, so he'd spent all of the previous night taking its measure. He'd gone to rest as the sun peaked over the horizon, satisfied, and dreamed pleasant dreams he won't recall after waking.

When it happens, it's sudden and it's violent — at least in his perception. There's a powerful jolt, and his hand plunges beneath the cushion to grab his knife before he can consciously think about the cause. In an instant, he's leapt to his feet, taking a defensive posture against the threat — a woman, he realizes with some surprise. (Not as much as he would have felt before meeting de Sablé's stand-in.)

"What do you want?"

He's quick to wake--and to brandish a weapon. That tells her two things about him: he is clearly a warrior, and he isn't used to being woken suddenly. She feels a little bad for having roused him from his sleep, but a tiny bit less so because he's pulled a knife on her and has yet to put it down though in her mind, she's done nothing to warrant such a threat. Her brows raise just so, and her head tilts to one side, curious. Considering.

"I saw you on the rooftops the other day." Her tone is perfectly conversational, though she's shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, and left her hands loose at her sides. Non-threatening, but still a defensive pose. She doesn't seem at all worried by the blade in his hand. "Your skill was impressive, and I was curious about what you were doing up here."

The lack of any obvious threat is immediately apparent (though he knows full well that a person can appear harmless and be very, very dangerous). The lightly defensive posture is equally obvious — but unnecessary, unless she escalates things.

He was just trying to rest.

"I was sleeping." Well. That is probably obvious, but it's an answer. "I didn't expect anyone. Most stay on the ground."

Diana quickly runs the scenario through her mind again, and has the grace to look... a little embarrassed. Well, she knows what he was doing today now. Just not all those other times.

"I didn't mean to wake you." The sincerity in her tone is clear, though she doesn't quite let her body relax. After all, he's still got a knife in his hand, and though she's certain she could avoid any terrible injuries, keeping her guard up seems the smarter thing to do. "I usually do," she agrees. "Which is why I noticed you up here the other day."

Several emotions are at war with each other within Altaïr. First is alarm at being discovered when that is not something he is used to. Second is suspicion, because a pretty face and kind eyes can hide considerable malice. Third is sheepishness, because she really has done nothing and seems somewhat disconcerted herself.

Well, there is one way to resolve this to some degree. Altaïr appears to focus hard, staring at her...and then relaxes, slipping the knife into a sheath strapped to his leg. He has apparently decided that she means no harm.

"You're more observant than most," he says. "Few notice much that happens above their heads."

When he suddenly focuses on her, Diana does the same to him; she doesn't know what he's looking for, but she isn't actively trying to hide anything about herself. She can see that he's agitated, but considering his first instinct upon being unexpectedly woken was to grab a knife, she isn't surprised. It appears he sees whatever it is he's looking for, as the blade finally finds a home in its sheath. She relaxes a little more, shoulders easing just so.

Diana shrugs, flashing a little smile. "I spent a lot of my life looking up." Wondering what was outside Themyscira, praying to the gods, watching the stars for any sign that her people were needed. There were a lot more things to look for than people thought. "So you came up here today to sleep," she continues, and prompts: "And other times?"

"Then you're wiser than most," he observed mildly; it's less a compliment for her and more an indictment of others' foolishness, as far as he's concerned.

Now that he's settled down from his initial alarm and is satisfied as to the nature of her intentions, Altaïr takes a moment to assess her in another way, as much as he can in a few seconds. She's tall and strong, clearly no stranger to physical activity — it reminds him faintly of the woman who'd stood in for de Sablé in Jerusalem.

"Exercise, at times," he replies. "I don't care to become one of Cadens' soldiers or make use of their facilities. I also find it's better to learn the lay of the land from above, looking down."

Diana nods a bit at that. "Neither do I. My loyalties lie only with my home. But some of their soldiers are fair opponents, and willing to train with those not enlisted." She's spent quite a bit of time at the training grounds, doing exactly that. It's helped keep her sharp since arriving here in the Free Cities, and also kept her on fairly good terms with this (for all intents and purposes) foreign military.

Her smile grows, and she nods appreciatively. "Very prudent." It's clearly a compliment. Diana offers her hand forward, bare save for the leather vambrace strapped to her forearm. A poor replacement for her own bracers, but they've held up well. "I am Diana of Themyscira."

Are they? Interesting. He's a little tempted to ask for their names, but it's unlikely that they'd be capable of being the kind of training partner he'd need, and even less likely that they'd consent to acting as targets. Still, it's something to remember.

He looks at the offered hand for just a beat too long, enough to perhaps make her wonder whether the delay comes from awkwardness or a lack of context for the gesture — but then he takes it, offering a firm, efficient handshake in return.

"I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, of the Holy Land," he says. "I have not heard of this Themyscira before."

The hesitation does spark her curiosity, but it isn't long enough for her to question; after all, the first time someone had tried to shake her hand, she had been absolutely baffled. She had expected a salute, or perhaps a kiss on the hand, but not a handshake. Luckily, he returns the gesture, which satisfies her and assures her that she's made the correct greeting.

Her brows raise slightly with interest, and she answers: "Nor have I heard of the Holy Land." She drops her hand back to rest easily on her hip, and tilts her head. "Who is your land holy to?" There is no malice or mockery in the question; she's genuinely curious.

It doesn't surprise him. Almost no one he's met so far hails from the same world as he does, and why should they? This world is entirely removed from his own; why shouldn't the worlds of others be just as alien?

Still, it's a fair question. "Many who claim it's sacred ground to the god they worship," he says. "They battle for control of the land and justify it with their religions. But all I see is needless war."

That strikes a chord with her; she has read stories about people going to war for their gods, though she has never experienced it firsthand--all she did was go to war against a god. But she has heard many stories of the kind of havoc wreaked in the name of a deity, and it saddens her to hear that such a thing exists in a world outside her own.

"I wish I could say I have never heard of such a thing, but I cannot." There's voice in her grief, even if they don't come from the same world.

He believes it. Anyone can lie, but there's something in her voice that he recognizes. A note that can only be made by one who has seen suffering.

"There is no stopping those who mistake bloodshed for glory. Nor is it anyone's place to force a change to their beliefs." As much as it burns, Altaïr knows this to be true. He would persuade Saladin and the Lionheart, not control their minds. "They make their war. We do what we can for the people."

She can't help the relief that surges through her when he says they, not we. Diana has met more than a few people here in Cadens who either don't know the true horror of war, or don't seem to care. Neither attitude sits well with her, but when it comes down to it, she is a visitor in this world. While it is not her place to get directly involved in their politics, that doesn't mean she can't do her part to help avoid the war the factions seem determined to fall into, especially if it concerns the common citizens.

Diana nods briefly in agreement, pain stealing across her face. "I just wish it was easier for those with power to see what war truly does to their people." Her real meaning goes unsaid, as it would tear too much at her heart to say aloud: I wish they cared.

Altaïr shakes his head, a little dismissively — not and Diana, but at the idea of those she describes. He's suddenly certain they both know the type all too well, even if they've never met the same people.

"They could if they chose to do so. It is not inability to open their eyes that keeps them closed — it is unwillingness."

There is hope for a few. Some eyes are not closed so tightly that they will not open if exposed to the right words, the right way of thinking. But the future is never guaranteed, and those in power often have so little incentive to change.

"For such men, it's preferable to pretend there are certain inalienable truths in the world, ones they can use to bolster whatever beliefs are most convenient to them. They'd be better off recognizing that nothing is true. Nothing holds them back but their own minds."

Edited 2022-09-21 19:22 (UTC)

He speaks the truth aloud, and Diana feels a coward for not doing so herself. But her eyes have only recently been opened to the horrors men can commit against one another in the pursuit of power or wealth. Her hope, her belief in them is still whole, only frayed a little around the edges. Give her a hundred years, and she'll be on Altaïr's level.

She looks around briefly, and finds a place to sit on the edge of the rooftop. There's no reason for them to continue standing at odds, as they were when she woke him. Once seated, she folds her hands in front of her, leaning forward a little.

"Where I am from, such people would not be in positions of power in the first place." There was a certain amount of politicking on Themyscira, but nothing like she had come to know since leaving the island. It is... disheartening to see it so widespread among mankind. Diana tilts her head slightly, curious at something he's said. "What do you mean, nothing is true?" He can't mean it literally, but she doesn't yet grasp the meaning behind it.

It's too early to say he feels any true kinship with Diana — and he wouldn't trust the feeling if it did exist — but there's a certain ease in seeing that she understands some of what he means. It is a start.

"I envy your land, that such people would be unable to attain it." Because going by his experiences, they seek power like nothing else. He takes a seat as well, not overly close but not so far that they can't speak without others overhearing.

"Most men and women live as though there is an objective order to the world they live in, laws and restrictions that they have no choice but to dash their lives against like water against rock," he continues after a moment. "The people who wield power like a weapon use those beliefs to bind the minds of others more surely than they could bind their hands." And that is why such men must die.

"But none of those rules truly exist. Laws don't come from some higher power that declares how things must be. The world is what we make of it, and there is always the power to choose something new."

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(open) a million miles from home, I'm walking ahead

rooftop napping!

I love her so much

c:

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