[OPEN] How do we change our world to what we want it to be?

[aquilus]

Who: Altaïr & OTA
What: Catch-all for shenanigans
When: Various points in September
Where: Horizon & Libertas



[OOC Note - For any of these starters, feel free to go with either action brackets or prize, I will match! If you would like, feel free to fill out this permissions post to allow Altaïr's eagle vision to detect your character's level of friendship/hostility.]

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HORIZON; OTA

[aquilus]

then;

Altaïr shied away from the Horizon his first few weeks in this world. Another plane, somehow close at hand and far away, accessible with the right kind of focus. It sounded both intriguing and dangerous. He knows what unchecked, unearthly power does to a man's mind and has no intention of falling prey to something he understands even less than he understands the Apple of Eden.

And yet there's no question that it plays a vital role in the lives of the Summoned. He could refuse to go there and avoid any danger it might present, yet a failure to understand it is its own kind of danger. So finally, after much contemplation, he seeks out guidance on how it may be found, seats himself in a safe place where he's certain he will not be interrupted, and begins to meditate.

He remembers afterward that though he did not know himself, he knew the meaning of his mark and what it signified about him. A master craftsman, a man of skill, a perfectionist down to his bones. So it is no surprise that the domain he begins to conjure is as perfect as he can make it, even before his memories return. Mountainous terrain emerges, not overly sprawling, but rising up to the sky as if it wishes to strike down God. There is nothing outside the outer gates where he will remember a village should be, but the intimidating fortress within them as detailed down to the last brick. The flags will mean little to any stranger venturing over from another domain, but anyone familiar with the Holy Land would understand and be chilled by their meaning: this is the home of the Assassins. Tread lightly if you want to live.

now;

Much is on his mind when Altaïr returns to the Horizon, to his domain. He is angry for the citizens of Libertas and angry that there is only so much he can do. He's used to taking an indirect role in war, which is so much bigger than any one person; removing the right person for the right reasons is all he's ever done, and he has no intention of becoming a soldier now. Yet it rankles.

Memories intact this time, he walks throughout the castle, homesick and more than a little tempted to try conjuring faces he knows — Rauf, Malik, even Abbas might be a welcome sight. Yet he abandons the idea almost immediately; he will not fool himself with phantoms.

Instead he occupies himself by climbing up the castle from the outside, because he can and because it presents far more of a challenge than anywhere he's been to in the Free Cities. Once he reaches the rampart, he peers out into the distance, keen eyes searching for whatever domains lie beyond his, wondering whether anyone has noticed this new one and if they may come to see it for themselves.

Whatever the answer, his response is the same; a graceful leap of faith, experienced and smooth. It's a much faster way down than stairs.

[godshattering]

Libertas has left Claude restless. For good reasons, and reasons that many share, and when he's not roaming where he can either there or in Cadens, he's taken to prowling around the Horizon without any destination in mind. Moving seems productive enough in how it makes him feel like he's accomplishing something, somehow, and on today's route he stops by something he doesn't recognize from his past 'travels' through.

The castle is new to him. It draws Claude in, curiosity always being a driving force behind most everything he does. It helps that in the Horizon there's considerably less danger or risk involved when one can simply leave should things take a turn for the worse, so it's added to what he's willing to test out here and there.

It's while studying the building that movement above he catches from the corner of his vision draws his attention towards the sky, and Claude has enough time to recognize the outline of someone silhouetted above before they're abruptly plunging down to the ground. And despite that knowledge the Horizon will prevent anything devastating - he's pretty sure - he still freezes in place as common sense warns him this can't end well.

Not until the man lands does it register with Claude he knows him - Altaïr, wasn't it? - and in an instant he looks up at the tower and back to Altaïr and says, "You have got to show me how you did that."

[aquilus]

Altaïr knows his domain is not real, that his home is more than a world away, but it is still strange to see one of the other Summoned here in Masyaf. A frisson of alarm runs down his spine, but he tamps down this instinctive emotional reaction. Claude is not an enemy who has infiltrated the gates of the fortress. He does not even know that he stands in the stronghold of the brotherhood of Assassins.

Altaïr emerges from the haystack that broke his fall with grace borne of experience, and not a single piece of hay appears to stick to his robes. (Is that another effect of the Horizon? It may have to remain a mystery.)

"I would not recommend that," he says, glancing up and up over his shoulder. He already knows how high it is, of course. "Typically the training begins closer to the ground. It results in fewer broken necks."

Would that be more than an inconvenience here? Altaïr isn't sure, but he also doesn't wish to see it happen to one who hasn't wronged him.

[godshattering]

"No?" It's more of an idle response than anything, maybe also a reflection of Claude's general dislike for being told he can't do something, but Altaïr's next words have him raising an eyebrow. Witnessing an injury (any injury, though he'll admit to himself it was specifically involving necks or spines) was, more or less, what his fear was of standing here watching it happen. That the other man knows what he's doing? That's reassuring, and -

Wait a minute. Training?

His gaze was on the tower once more but he shifts it back to Altaïr in consideration. For a moment he thinks of home and what warriors would do before battle to showcase their strength, their courage, anything in between. This feels, in some ways, very similar. There's much he's tempted to ask but Claude merely nods to let that slip by. For now.

"Well, being closer to the ground would certainly have its benefits. Like maybe only breaking an arm if something goes sideways - like whoever jumped." 'Only' being a relative term and bad breaks of a limb certainly being up there, but war's redefined his scale for injuries. "How long does it take to work up to where you've jumped from, then?"

[aquilus]

It doesn't occur to Altaïr right away that he's slipped. They're in Masyaf (or close enough), and no one makes it this close to the fortress without knowing exactly who protects this land and why they are not to be trifled with. He's comfortable here — perhaps too comfortable, as he recalls a few moments later that he claimed to be a mapmaker.

Ah. Well. There's nothing to say a mapmaker cannot train himself to difficult feats.

"I didn't time myself." More like lost time, if he's honest. "It's not a quick climb, for certain. But it was more for the pleasure of it." He cracks a small smile. "The buildings in Cadens don't reach high enough for my taste."

Up high, he's better able to take the measure of any city or settlement, but it also settles him. Allows him to clear his head. It's as true here as it is in any place that's real.

[godshattering]

"Well, I can see why they aren't tall enough now after coming here." There's something between a smile and a grin on Claude's face as he makes a vague gesture to the fortress, even if the meaning was likely clear enough as it is. "Not to mention I can't say there's much architecture like this around Cadens to begin with. This reminds me more of home than anything else I've seen here."

He'll leave that vague to match what he's fairly certain Altaïr is doing - which makes sense, considering there's many unknowns about Abraxas a whole and that includes each other. Some secrets must be earned, after all; that's something Claude lives by for himself as well.

"I suppose the Cadens roofs also make a little more sense now," he adds, careful to make that sound as lightly teasing as he intends it to be considering he has no room to talk from seeking them out himself. "In terms of looking for high points around, that is. I've been searching out places to study the stars myself beyond heading out into the desert since I'm not interested in dealing with monsters lurking around in the dark."

Still, Claude's attention goes back to their surroundings instead of just where he's (finally) accepted he won't be jumping from any time soon. "While I'm here and assuming things. Does your domain resemble where you're from?"

[enduringkestrel]

Cassandra has long since grown comfortable with the Horizon. It had taken her a little time to return, though, after hers had been changed against her will. But that has passed, and she is once more at ease exploring. She doesn't recognize the domain she's found herself in, but it's beautiful. Her attention is drawn to the highest points of the castle. She enjoys the rooftops of Cadens, but she finds herself missing the heights of Whitestone Castle; although she doesn't miss the castle itself, she misses being able to find a quiet place high up and out of the way. The wind feels differently at that height.

It feels free. (There is a reason why there is a castle in her own domain, with plenty of spots to climb and to hide, although the castle is as different from Whitestone Castle as she can make it.)

Her attention focused the way it is, she cannot miss the figure leaping from the building. Concerned, but also suspecting who it is that this domain belongs to, she darts towards where the figure would have landed. And sure enough, it's Altaïr. She grins, unable to help herself. She doesn't know what she intends to say, but what comes out is a soft "Would you mind if I climbed your castle?" It's only polite to ask.

[aquilus]

Another familiar face. He's growing used to the idea that others will notice and come to see this imitation of Masyaf, and it unsettles him less, though there will probably always be some measure of discomfort within him. At least no Templar that he knows of has become one of the Summoned; that would inevitably result in one of their deaths.

His mouth twitches in amusement at the question. It is certainly one he's never had to answer before. "Does it count as mine?" He glances back and up at the walls of the castle whose true version was built years before his birth. "I can't claim it as my own in the real world."

He won't deny that he brought it to life here in the Horizon, though. That's obvious.

[enduringkestrel]

"It's a part of your domain, here in the Horizon," she replies with a lopsided grin. "It seems a bit rude to just start scaling the architecture my first visit here. No matter how much I wish to." Not to say that she won't do so next time, should he give her permission to. But for her first venture into his domain? It's just manners.

"What is it, in the world you come from? Where is it?"

[aquilus]

Fair enough. He nods in acknowledgment of the point.

"Far up in the mountains, away from all the major cities." He is ever-loath to reveal too much about himself or the Assassins, but the fortress was known before it was theirs and will likely remain a known landmark for as long as it exists. "It is known as Masyaf. And I would not be bothered if you climbed it."

LIBERTAS, DAYTIME; OTA

[aquilus]

Not a doctor and not a soldier, Altaïr nonetheless finds himself as busy as either one once they reach Libertas. Now and again he does visit the infirmary; having come to recognize a few familiar faces when he helped prepare medical aid in advance of the journey, he's not so stoic that he doesn't want to know how the healers are doing, and offer his hands again if they need an extra pair. By sight, he doesn't appear all that moved by the suffering, but whether that is because he's used to presenting a calm face or because he has simply seen too much war already is known.

He also runs a few errands about the city, smaller tasks for those that need help. If they look like they can afford it, he'll take money for the convenience. If they appear poor or as though they've lost too much in the attack, he won't accept a single coin. Though he does take to the roofs where possible, he spends time traveling on the ground too, and will stop for those he knows.

At the end of the day, he stops to rest a while wherever people gather; a tavern that's got unscathed, a campfire between piles of rubble, anywhere he recognizes other summoned. He knows that even in the times of greatest horror, people will take comfort in groups. He doesn't feel in need of comfort himself, but if nothing else, it's an opportunity to sit and listen and learn about what others have observed. For the most part he keeps to the edge of any crowd, occasionally having a drink before disappearing into the night.

[cryptsleeper]

[The infirmary isn't a natural place for Alucard. It isn't as if he's ignorant of medicine and healing - his mother was a doctor, after all - but his talents have always lay elsewhere. So many of them are connected to actual fighting, or using his abilities to overcome inhuman odds, and he's done plenty of that over the past few days.

Rather, he's standing in one of the hallways talking quietly to a doctor with a large sheet of paper in his hand. Drawings. Ways to quickly expand capacity without draining funds, as need only grows. It's not much extra space, but if there's only two days to source material and build, it will be better than naught. More stable than tents, at any rate.

There's a few more words exchanged, and then Alucard is left alone. There's much to discuss and little time, and the dhampir knows he won't be waiting long.

He folds the paper so it will fit neatly under his arm. When he looks up, the face he sees in the corridor is familiar.

There's a quiet nod.]

[aquilus]

[Interesting. Altaïr is surprised to see the wolf/man he met out in the wilds, but then supposes there is no particular reason he should be. Slaying bandits is not the only thing activity he partakes in, so why would it be so for anyone else?

He nods in return and continues forward, since he was heading this way anyway.]

Have you come to help with the healing, or are you in need of it yourself?

[He wouldn't have guessed the former, but it doesn't look like the latter is true either.]

[cryptsleeper]

Construction, actually.

[The response is calm and even handed. There's no real quiet on the wards, not when new emergencies pop up every few minutes, but Alucard seems to be trying to correct that. The exhaustion in his voice suggests he's not doing very well at it.]

I don't know how quickly things can expand, but I can at least try and provide firm footing for those who will need the space.

[aquilus]

I wouldn't have guessed you'd be a builder.

[But there's more of what he doesn't know about the man than there is what he does. He's not surprised to be surprised.]

It's a sensible effort.

LIBERTAS, NIGHTTIME; OTA

[aquilus]

Call it paranoia, but Altaïr has seen the aftermath of devastation, when certain people reject the notion of coming together as one and instead seek to take what they can from those who have so little left.

So he takes to the shadows, moving like predator — but his only prey are those who might harm others in this time when so many have been so grievously harmed. If they're lucky, he'll never actually find them. Still he patrols, keeping mainly to the areas that have been greatly damaged, but not to the point of driving people away entirely.

He's armed with a sword, but if it becomes necessary, it won't be his weapon of choice.

[wiedzminka]

Unfortunately, wandering around armed and skulking in the shadows isn't exactly the best look, when the city is crawling with looters and questionable characters seeking to take advantage of the chaos and destruction. Ciri's caught a few glimpses of him now, around a couple different blocks, to the point where it's suspicious. It's unclear if the figure is following her or it's a coincidence they're walking through the same areas, but she is impatient.

Subtlety isn't her style; she confronts him.

"If you're trying to rob me, just make your attempt and get it over with."

[aquilus]

He has noticed the woman in his wanderings, but if he's any judge by sight, she is someone who can handle herself. He's paid her little mind other than that; her business is her own. Apparently it isn't a two-way courtesy.

"If I were trying to rob you I'd have done so already." He lifts his chin, eyes just visible under his hood. He's not dressed in the robes he's used to from home, but his head felt naked without something covering it. "You're out and about as well. Perhaps I'm the one who should be wary of you."

[wiedzminka]

Her brows rise. Really? Confident asshole, isn't he?

"Hm. Perhaps you should be."

She puts a hand on her hip, next to where the hilt of her dagger juts out from her belt, the wrought silver on the pommel shaped into the form of a snarling wolf. It's a finely decorated piece, but it isn't just for show.

"What do you want?"

[aquilus]

Altaïr observes the obviously expensive weapon (which is therefore probably dangerous, although that depends more on the skill of the wielder) but doesn't otherwise react. He doesn't make a display of the blade strapped to his own hip, either; he'll use a less-obvious weapon if it comes down to it.

Which he hopes it will not. "To be on my way," he says, words crisp and mostly hiding any trace of annoyance. "Why does my path matter to you?"

FOR DIANA

[aquilus]

When shared with other people, a campfire is often a site of merriment or a necessity in the midst of war. In Libertas, it is neither, though closer to the latter. Altaïr expects that some who came from Cadens to help found lodgings, but space is at a premium with so much of the city destroyed or unusable. Some are camping out instead, and gatherings around the fire have become a nightly occurrence for those not taking the evening shift at whatever method of help they've chosen.

He keeps to the edge of it, part of the loose circle but not very close to anyone else. It doesn't bother him to be more or less alone, but when he glances up to see a familiar face, he nods and raises a hand in greeting, the other wrapped around the mug of weak ale that he's been sipping on. So, Diana of Themyscira has also come to Libertas.

[monomachy]

Diana is... exhausted. Not physically. She could dig through debris and lift ruined buildings all day and night for a week and not tire. No, the fatigue is of her heart, from seeing the destruction that has come into these people's lives. Though they still do not know the deeper details of what occurred during the attack on the delegates, she does know that this attack was unwarranted, egregious. It fills her with grief--and rage. Much of the time, it's difficult for her to decide which will prevail by the time this is all over.

She doesn't sleep for many hours, if only because there is always more work to be done; supplies to be distributed, stones to be overturned, and countless other duties that come in the wake of such an attack. She wears the armor she has commissioned during her time in Cadens, mostly hardened and shaped leather, but with a few solid metal pieces at her wrists and shins. Light and flexible, but sturdy. She hasn't put on anything else since being in this ruined city. She doesn't plan to.

She has wine, if only because water is needed for tending the wounded. It's watered and a little sour, but she drinks it anyway because it is what she has been given. She has seen Altaïr over the past few days, but hasn't had the chance to speak with him until now. Not that she feels much like talking, but she'll make the attempt anyway by raising her cup and moving around the fire to stand beside him. "It's late." Not a scolding, merely an observation.

[aquilus]

He nods in agreement, gaze flicking from her face to the fire and back. "Or early," he says. "It seems there is no start or end to the work that must be done."

Even if they've located all the survivors, and even when they've found all the bodies and given them proper rest, it will persist. Recovery. Renewal, if he wants to put an optimistic spin on it. And very likely, further war.

He puts the thought out of his mind. Not far out, because it's always there, but he'll trip over what's in front of him if he focuses only on what is to come. "When we spoke of war, I hadn't expected to see it break out before our eyes," he said. "Perhaps this world is not so different from our own, after all."

[monomachy]

Her shoulders sag slightly at his words, a little more energy leeching out of her at the truth in them. The devastation Libertas has faced is not unlike what she had seen while traveling across the Belgian countryside on her way to the Front; razed, smoldering, desolate. Grief mingles with a veiled rage, one that has taken root in her chest and grows with each day that passes.

"This city will need much help to begin recovering." And she isn't sure how long the Summoned's presence in the city will be a boon rather than a hinderance; they are using precious supplies and space just by being here. Best for them to work as quickly as they can, and take as few resources as possible in the process. That's one of the reasons Diana is out here instead of sleeping at an inn.

Few people have spoken the word "war" in more than a whisper, but she knows that the thought is in every mind. And she dreads that it will come to pass in truth. But she is not so naïve to think that the Free Cities will simply forgive and forget what the Queen of Thorne has done. "There are some things that seem to span across all worlds." Her voice is low, the words tinged with bitterness.

[aquilus]

"I wish this were not the case." There's a tinge of sorrow in his tone; not for the knowledge itself, because he never truly believed this world to be so different, but because he would have welcomed being wrong.

"We'll do what we can to aid the people," he says, acknowledging her assessment of the situation. Being here at all is more active altruism than he's accustomed to practicing, but given the circumstances, he has to. He can't not. "And then...we'll see. But none of us have to do what they desire and expect us to."

They don't have to be soldiers, fighting and dying for a cause not their own. Altaïr is determined that he won't be.