sixthiterationlogs | One | Altaïr Can't Swim (it's a trending tag on AO3)

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One | Altaïr Can't Swim (it's a trending tag on AO3)

WHO: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
WHERE: South Village fountain
WHEN: Beginning October 28
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to find a half-drowned and confused Assassin.
WARNINGS: Arabic cursing. (Both cursing in Arabic and an Arabic man cursing.)

Water.

It would permanently be his bane.

He had expected his afterlife to be anything but that, if he was to have one at all. After all he'd seen, he'd more suspected that after death came nothing. A lack of existence. An ending, and nothing more. If he ascribed to the Christian notions, he would surely be relegated to their hell for the lives he'd taken, and for a moment, it occurred to him that this was it. A form of eternal torment by the water filling his lungs, his hands finding no purchase. Was he to spend the rest of time dying over and over again in water?

But his body had panicked for him. Fighting against the water, struggling, flailing wildly and completely without skill. He could feel his lungs burning from what he'd inhaled before he'd begun to hold his breath, the ache of a cough wanting to break free but he knew that if he opened his mouth, only more water would rush in--

He coughed. His lungs filled further, and fear took hold of his heart. No. No, he could not spend eternity this way, dying again and again with what looked like sky past the water's surface. Again, he coughed. His lungs were getting heavier, his vision dimmer. No!

And then--

And then, even in the depths, he could breathe, except it... it wasn't breathing. Water was still passing into him, but his vision began to clear and his limbs felt less sluggish and his mind slowly climbed away from the base reactions of survival toward true and rational thought.

He was breathing water. How?

His mind sought reasons, but with his calm came buoyancy. He began to rise toward the surface, a hand reaching out toward the nearest wall, touching stone, able to use it to push upward, and when he broke free and took hold of the stone with his entire arms, he bent over it. He coughed once, twice, water pouring from his mouth and nose in a painful rush, but then he was breathing air. Clear, cool air.

Willpower pulled him over the edge, onto the ground, where he laid on his stomach and relished the simple act of breathing. He'd been short of breath for years, coughing with any exertion, but never had it felt so horrible as that. "Al'ama," he groaned, head turned sideways to rest on the ground before, with excruciating slowness, he pushed himself up to sit. "'Ana kabir fi alsini lihadha."

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Wanda shook her head. "There is no need. Consider it a grace period." She flashed him a brief smile before ushering him towards a seat by the fire. "We share as best we can. It's how we survive. I'll be back with some tea."

She left Arado curled up at Altair's feet as she disappeared into the kitchen. There was already warm water and she quickly tossed the mesh bag of tea in it. Wanda also grabbed a bit of dried meat and returned to the table.

"So." She began as she placed the tea and snack in front of him. "Where you're from, when does someone stop being young?" Wanda was almost thirty and while she was used to being treated as a child by Steve or Tony, she was curious. He looked to be about her age though she supposed that if he truly was ninety then his sense of age would likely be more skewed.

To share, or to barter... Yes, it made sense. It had been most of his life, so it appeared it would be again. There was much to be said about sharing the work you did and the sweat of your brow. He considered, nodding - and when she brought back the tea and-- ah, dried meat. That would be good, he thought. How long had it been since he'd eaten before...

Ah, Darim. It came like a wave, missing his son. His son whose hair had already gone pale, more white than black. If he could be here, perhaps he'd be safe - but his wife, their children, and Sef's... No, it was better this way.

"Where I am from," he said after lifting the teacup in two hands to take in the warmth and the scent, "when you reach ninety-two, everyone is young. My son was just past sixty - and to me, he was young. Malik Ibn Malik was perhaps thirty. He was very young. You are an adult, of course, but I have learned that age is about experience, perception, and how many parts of you ache when clouds are thick in the sky."

There was a gleam of humour in his eyes, a crinkle at their corners, at that last, even if it didn't quite make it to a smile.

Wanda smiled though the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. "So I see. You aren't the first person I've met who's an old soul in a young body. You should talk to Steve Rodgers. Here's here in the village too. The situation is different but it might be nice to have someone to talk too."

Arado rises and stepped over to Wanda, placing his head on her lap to receive affect. She begins to pet the dog, pausing a moment to organize her thoughts.

"Excuse me. You probably have questions." At least questions that were more important than her asking about his world and point of views. "This place has no name. It's an island and whoever brought us here seems to want to test us for some reason."

A test. That was nothing new given his life. He nodded his understanding. "I see. And the reason is as yet unknown, as is - I assume - the method of our arrival. Yet everyone works together to ensure mutual survival, it seems. A good method so long as people are cautious of greed."

But already he was considering. Judging by the air-- Hm. Could he judge as such yet? Better to ask.

"Is this spring or autumn here? The air is chilled, but I cannot tell yet if the cold is approaching or receding." That would make a difference. He could go and chop wood for warmth, but if winter was beginning, that would affect how much would be needed. They would also need preserved food. Dry rice, if it could be found, and more dried meat like this. Just the thought made him slow down before eating what had been placed before him. If this was winter approaching, how much of this would they need? The worst winters had seen their storehouses nearly emptied - that wasn't something he wanted to repeat.

"I've been here for over a year and we haven't had any trouble with that." Some people take a little more than they probably should but there has never been a shortage because of it. Mark and Kat do a decent job of making sure that things get rationed properly as well.

"They have lunch here. It's organized and most of the people in the village show up." It was free in a sense but everyone helped out.

"It's autumn but I don't know how long until winter. The seasons here are more even than what I'm used too." There was a lot of wood at the inn and the fire was generally always lit through the winter. "Don't worry about it for right now. It's better to take the time to get used to the village and then see where you can help."

Wanda pointed at a bulletin board on the inn wall. "Some of what we've experienced is posted as well as skill sets of those willing to teach. You should take a look when you feel up to it."

A glance to the board and Altaïr nodded. "Sensible. I should take the time to learn before I make an effort to teach."

And more than that, he needed to know a few things. Such as more details about this place, the dangers in the wild, and the temperament of the people. Already, he'd decided to keep the word 'assassin' from his tongue. With people here of Europe, there was a great chance that none would understand the true meaning. Or, worse, if they did, there was at least some chance they were Templars. His name alone would alert them if that were true - none had kept quiet about the new Old Man on the Mountain - but he would need to take care.

"And," he went on, pulling himself from that line of thought, "I will need to take the time to get used to the reappearance of my youth. It has been a long time since I've been able to move so freely. I have much to regain."

"Take your time. You can be here for lunch, Mark organizes that food is made and passed out among those who can't hunt or cook themselves. The board has most information you need on it but you can also ask everyone using the watch around your wrist. It works as a communication device and you can ask mass questions there, such as 'does anyone have information about x'"

Though Wanda found a lot of people asking about subjects on the bulletin board, it was a useful tool.

"Time is one thing we have a lot of."

The thing on his wrist.

He'd been used to having something there for so long, he hadn't given it a second thought until now. He looked at it and his brows drew down as he turned his wrist this way and that, attempting to figure it out. A flat bit, the part that held to his wrist-- it matched his clothing, as well. "You call this a... watch? What does it watch?"

The answer that immediately came to him was... him. Himself. Why would it not watch its wearer? He disliked the idea, but he could see - and even feel - no way to remove it. Hm. Something else to investigate.

"A watch keeps track of time." She had a feeling that she was going to have to explain a lot of technology to him. It didn't really bother her but it was likely going to be a tedious job since the inn currently had electricity.

"You can message people through it."

She held up her wrist to show him hers. "Want me to show you how to use it? It's the fastest way to contact people and will also work as a distress signal."

"Please," he agreed without hesitation, coming over to her side so he could be instructed all the more easily. This was certainly new. The idea of using such a small thing to send messages was an interesting one, rife with possibility. And to use it to signal distress and bring aid? Revolutionary.

So widespread, he hoped they were as benign as they seemed, but he knew better than to offer complete trust. He would treat it as he did the Apple: a tool, but as a knife is a tool. Without care, injury would follow.

Wanda scooted next to him and positioned her wrist so that it was resting on the table. She quickly went over the main screen of the device, using very simplistic terms. When she was sure that he understood all of the basics, she explained how to text as well as how to set conversations to private by sending him a message with the user name Scarlet Witch.

"You can also change your user name if you want but by default it's your name." She never knew if the name Wanda Maximoff would have negative repercussions, which was why she was listed as Scarlet Witch. Those who knew that name had either seen her Hydra file or were part of the Avengers and it gave her a heads up about whom she was talking to and what they knew about her. Wanda hadn't always been a good guy.

Altaïr was a ready pupil. While it took him a moment to grasp the concept, it only took that moment. As she was explaining he could change the name on the device, he was seeking out the proper script and changing it to التاير, feeling that, at least in this, he could have something that sat well and familiar with him.

"I'm very grateful for your assistance. But I am afraid there is something we have neglected," he said then, looking to her from the odd device he would, he was sure, grow more certain of. "Unless your name is 'Scarlet Witch', we have failed in proper introductions. I am Altaïr Ibn'La-Ahad, to give you my family name. Your dog, I remember, is Arado. Might I know yours?"

Wanda's mouth lifted into a warm smile. "Wanda Maximoff." She didn't use her real name on the devices because she was never sure how it would be taken. Memories change and over time enemies have turned to allies and allies to enemies.

"What does this mean?" She asked as she pointed to his user name. The script appeared to be Arabic of some kind or perhaps just middle eastern but Wanda wasn't entirely sure.

It was a name unlike any he'd heard before - all the better, because it meant he would easily remember it. The word itself sounded German - a language he'd heard and had learned a few words of, but nothing extensive. He wouldn't shame himself by pretending he knew more. What he did do was nod, offering over his own wrist so she could more easily see. "It is my name, in my own writing rather than English," he said and pointed at each section. "A-l-ta-ïr." Each letter had its own sound, though the vowels seemed to be lost, in truth represented by the diacritics around the script. "In direct translations, most would say my name means 'eagle', or 'the one who flies.'"

In this, he seemed comfortable. Showing someone a bit of knowledge, explaining it. He had a gentleness to his voice as he did, a kindness that suited his face.

Wanda's mouth curved into a smile. "I know a few languages. Is that Arabic?" Since joining the Avenger's and living with Clint, she'd learned more besides English and Russian, but it was a slow learning process. Wanda usually only learned what was relevant at the time and little else.

She liked Altair's name and it's meaning. She didn't know if her own name had a meaning but she would have liked to know what it was.

"Anything else I can help you with? I should get Arado home soon." The pup rose its head when he realized that he was being talked about.

"It is, indeed - but, please, don't let me delay you. With what you've given me, I have a good start to find my way," he said, standing and giving her a half-bow of respect and gratitude. "I appreciate your kindness and help, and hope to repay it in the future."

Not that he wanted to lose her company. He'd told her she was kind, and that was far from a lie. Her presence soothed many of his worries, even worries that were as yet unnamed. More than once, he had attempted to use his Eagle Vision, only to find that it was beyond him. Was it an exchange - his youth for that vibrant intuition? While he doubted she would shine red, he wondered now if she would have shown as white or blue. But that was a question that would have to remain unanswered.

"If you need to find me-" She smiled. "And can't figure out the communication device." Wanda lifted her wrist briefly. "I'll be here in the kitchen or at the house at the end of the row out here to the left." There weren't any street signs or names but he'd see Wanda's house easily. It was well lived in.

"Until then." Wanda offered him another smile before turning and leaving, Arado following obediently on her heels.

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One | Altaïr Can't Swim (it's a trending tag on AO3)

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