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

[eaglesonofnone]

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."

Comments

[eaglesonofnone]

Another nod, just as thoughtful as the first. "It seems to be something needful here - a way to transport materials, tools, or people in case of injury or illness. Eventually a way to transport food, or pull plows. This place is rich in clear water and plants grow well. There should be a way to begin a garden."

He saw no reason why it wouldn't be possible, anyway. However, it was easy to give orders. Harder to see them through. He had no experience with farming; only knew it should be done.

[tosavecocoon]

"I've seen gardens out there," Vanille says thoughtfully, gesturing with her head towards the door. Raine wriggles a little more in her arms and she shifts to get a better grip on him before she risks dropping him again. "Or farmlands, but I don't know if there's anyone actually in charge of a farm. You could ask the Innkeeper. She might know better than anyone." She nods her head towards Kate Kelly, wherever she is at this point. "I think most of what we do here is just... by hand. There's not a lot of material to build anything with."

[eaglesonofnone]

A slow nod and he added all of this to the mental list he was making. "I would believe we are short of stone, but we are surrounded by forest. Perhaps we should begin there. Careful cutting of trees can maintain the forest and encourage new growth as much as provide wood for building or for heat. There are many possibilities - but if we are without woodworkers or carpenters, that may be an obstacle."

That was what he found himself wondering. What sort of basic things were they without? Tools? Knowledge? He knew many things in theory, but in practice, his training was very specific. He knew how to hunt, to cook, to tend to weapons, how to extract information from many different situations, and how to kill. But he was not a smith, a carpenter, a farmer. He knew about smithing, carpentry, and farming, but that was not his profession.

Perhaps those were things, here, that would have to be learned from the beginning.

[tosavecocoon]

This man has good ideas about how to help the villages. Vanille nods enthusiastically. "You could try to ask on the network." She shifts to show him her wrist, where her white band is, without giving Raine more room to struggle. "That's the easiest way to reach everyone. Someone else might have ideas or be able to tell you if they know someone with wood working experience."

Every little bit counts, in Vanille's opinion and experience. Growing up in Oerba had taught her how to work together with other people. Everyone has a way to contribute and help, just like with the animals.

[eaglesonofnone]

"At times like these, I wish for paper and ink, or at least slate. Something to write on, write with, to make things line up clearly." But he shook his head, lifted a hand to wave the thought away. "Maunderings of an old man; forgive me."

But he remembered: He was not precisely old anymore, at least in body. That would take some getting used to. Even now, just seeing his hands hale and hearty was a surprise.

[tosavecocoon]

"That would help, wouldn't it," Vanille muses thoughtfully. "Maybe the schoolhouse has chalkboards." That's the only thing she can think of that would help. Well, paper and pencils would, but to her knowledge, they don't have many of either. So chalkboards might be the only thing they have to work with, unfortunately.

She smiles at his last words and shakes her head. "You sound like Fang. I think that's just smart logic." Besides, if they're going on chronological age, she's at least 500, even if she doesn't look, act, or feel it. Age is relative anyway.

[eaglesonofnone]

"I have no wish to insert myself too deeply into the workings of this place too soon. I have no doubts there is already some sort of leadership involved - and I wish to make no assumptions. But I'm in the habit of writing. I've grown such over the last years." But he still gave her a slow nod. "I do appreciate your suggestion of the school. I will have to look into it."

[tosavecocoon]

Vanille smiles in response. She can understand that sort of feeling. It was the same sort of thought she had had when she was first on Cocoon. She didn't want to get too deeply entrenched in anything because she was a Pulse l'Cie, enemy of Cocoon, and the more she saw, the less she wanted to hurt any of them. So she can understand the idea of staying quiet, even if they probably have very different reasons for doing so.

"Okay," she says. "If you ever need help or just a friend, you can always contact me." Raine wriggles a bit more in her arms and she winces apologetically. "I should probably get him back outside so he can run around a bit more."

[eaglesonofnone]

"Of course," he said, offering her a warm look if not a smile. Smiles didn't quite fit on his face. "Do take care, shabbah. Perhaps we will speak more about the livestock soon."

He found he hoped they would. Some sort of organisation needed to happen - there was much infrastructure Masyaf had that this place lacked. If nothing else, perhaps he could plant the seed of an idea.