Two | He Who Increaseth Knowledge

[eaglesonofnone]

WHO: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
WHERE: Northeast of the South Village, scouting
WHEN: Prior to the mining mingle
OPEN TO: Scouting for Tony; Parkour for anyone.
WARNINGS: Frank discussion of "historical" events including deaths, probably a little blood from parkour mistakes.

---

Scouting:

He had made his way through the village from his house, slowly toward the northeast as Tony had mentioned. Though he'd practiced, today he had a feeling he would want his energy more than he wanted speed. Beneath his sash, he carried some dried food - some he would replace soon, as he fully intended to go for a hunt.

When Tony fell in step beside him, he greeted him with a polite, "Safety and peace, Akhi," before falling into normal conversation. The serious topic, he decided to hold until they were deeper into the forest, following Tony's senses. Altaïr split his attention between the forest and his companion, making notes of the easiest way to pass, as well as the arrangement of the trees. He could see that, for most of this, he could easily provide overwatch, keeping an eye on the convoy as they traveled.

"I told you my name," he said quietly, once the village was mostly obscured from view. "Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. It means Eagle, Son of None. What I did not tell you before is that, until my death, I held a position of some honour and some responsibility. You did likely guess that."

---

Parkour:

Since his arrival, since claiming the house on the far outskirts of the village, he had made a point of exercising, of working himself, of trying to build himself back up - and though he wasn't in peak form yet, he had regained much of his confidence. Today was no different. He ran through the village, where buildings were nearer together, and, calculating with practiced eyes, he estimated and then took a jump at the wall of the inn.

Halfway up. Then another. And he was climbing the wall, fingertips clinging to the windowsills and then the frames, up and up until he was on the roof. He ran along the peak and dropped off the edge, passing hand to hand along the edge with his feet braced against the wall. Yes, this felt good. He could do this again, and he reveled at the strength he could feel in his arms and legs. How long had it been? Even since before going East. Despite the pain of leaving them all behind, he couldn't help the thrill he felt at this capability being returned to him. It had been so, so long.

Pushing with both feet, he leapt backward, rolling to his feet once he felt the ground beneath him again. He could feel his confidence returning, and didn't try to stop his smile.

Comments

Scouting

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Seemed like it. You generally don't get wrapped up in conspiracies, world ending prophecies and leaving behind a legacy that'll prevent said world ending if you're just a grunt." A vocation was a vocation, there's a hierarchy to shit- but the ones with vision? Did more because-

And he hated that he thought of it like this, that that gravel on stone rumble of a voice still echoed in the back of his mind.

Cursed with knowledge.

Frustrated as he might get for thinking of it- at least remembering that moment kicked his stress into a steel banded tension about his shoulders, clarifying his vision. He stopped halfway on the path, motioning to the left. "This way."

[eaglesonofnone]

Altaïr went to the left as Tony indicated, reaching out with a four-fingered hand to push aside a branch for their passage. "I was the mentor, the leader, of my Brotherhood. The Brotherhood of Assassins," he said, his tone even and calm. "We were called the Nizari Ismaili after a branch of religion that most of us left behind. We carved a small section of the Levant for ourselves, but we learned quickly that unless we could defend ourselves, the Saracens would attempt to conquer us. But we had... heritage. Our Order was old by the time I was born, and our teachings had been tested and proven. Most who were born in Masyaf trained and became fedayeen. Only a few became true Assassins."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"...You are very different from the assassins I know." There seemed to be slightly less trauma involved. By a hair. Even if the finger got a quirked brow and the history lesson, duly absorbed, settled somewhere in the context of a world, a history, he couldn't hope to grasp. Not in it's entirety, not anytime soon. His eyes flicked back to the path before them, trying to roll around what he'd been told.

"So- super secret guild of assassins. That act against the Knights Templar. For the future of humanity." That- was not the craziest thing he heard. Top five, but not the wildest. "And you saw it continuing up to, and most likely through, twenty twelve?"

[eaglesonofnone]

"I saw parts - the parts Juno wished me to see," he answered in the same quiet calm. "The artifact I spoke of before. For lack of better knowledge, we called it the Apple of Eden. Within it was knowledge and power. For reasons I do not know, though I have a deep suspicion, I was the only person able to wield it without it taking a part of my life for itself."

He still remembered watching Al Mualim lift it, hold him fast, attempt to sway his mind - and he remembered breaking free again and again, fighting, watching him become angrier and angrier. Even now, it still put an ache in his chest, the sheer scope of his betrayal.

"The Templars wished to hold it for its ability to control minds. My master, Rashid ad-Din Sinan, sent me and two others to retrieve it." Malik. Kadar. Losses he would always feel. "It was returned to him, and it began to corrupt him from the moment he held it. A man I once called brother held it after him. It nearly killed him. Yet, in my hand, it was nearly docile. Nearly."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Juno?" Vaguely familiar. He couldn't know why he remembered or what the relevance was, details lost in the wash of exposition laid out before him. Framing it as Tragic Backstory Time (tm) made it slightly less awful to hear. Not that it worked, but-

He made an attempt none the less. Terrible privilege, for the universe to decide for some reason that this one? This one got to survive. Got to suffer. Got to try and warn their fellows of a horrific future but where Altair's people heeded his word? Tony got little to no support. Maybe having the weight and trust of those that came after him counted for something.

"...that is in no way, shape, or form alarming at all. Not ominous in the slightest."

[eaglesonofnone]

"Juno is the name she gave me, the woman whose voice spoke from inside the Apple. She did not call herself a goddess, and I would not have believed her if she had," he said. "There was too much in her that spoke of manipulation, and my years of training taught me to see that manipulation she attempted. But what she did do, when I refused to bow entirely to her wants, was give me knowledge.

"The formula I spoke of, to treat stone and shape it like metal was from the Apple. The schematics for a new blade for my order, for a projectile weapon that would sit alongside our blades. For inks only some could see, for warnings I needed to give - those, I was given, and more, in exchange for placing some knowledge ahead of me so the Prophet could find it, and pass it on to the World."

As he spoke, he lightly clasped his arms behind his back except for at a few points: speaking of the blade, he drew a line with two fingers along his left inner arm, passing through where his ring finger would have been. Speaking of the ink, he motioned to his own eyes. But when he mentioned the Prophet and the World - that was when his arms crossed behind him once more.

"My last act was to lock the Apple away behind two doors that could not be opened by any but an Assassin who had studied what I had left behind."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"...It might make me an asshole to point out that you're putting a lot of faith in an organization that may or may not survive your death- and the people that'll be a part of it after you're gone." Who was bitter about something he built dissolving in a pile of bullshit and bad politics? Not Tony. Not Tony at all. The world turned, history rose up in a great wave to wipe away so much. The layers upon layers of conflict in that part of the world- he couldn't imagine anything lasting eight, nine centuries to mean something to those that came after.

Once? He thought maybe. If he put his faith in the right people.

Maybe Altair simply knew better people. A brotherhood of Assassins and- they were better principled. Probably. At least it was yet another stone across Tony's shoulders, more than enough for him to cock his head to the side and squint, following their path with his eyes.

[eaglesonofnone]

But Altaïr watched him, envied him slightly when he saw the way Tony looked at and then slightly past the world. His own vision being blunted - it ached. Always, he'd been able to look at the world and see intention past the surface. He could see those who intended him harm and those who intended him help, and here, he had no such luxury. He felt blinded, but that was yet another thing he couldn't help. Another thing he had to let go of before it did him worse than it had in the past.

Instead, he said, "I have seen the Prophet once. I do not know his name, or even his face, but I have seen his shadow. He wore the hood of an Assassin, carried the blades. He exists. He will come. And if he will come, then the World will come after. So long as there are Templars that the world needs us to fight again, I know there will be Assassins. Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. So long as those words guide us, we live."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Nothing is absolute, everything is...what?" He blinked, losing his grasp of the path for a moment as his head swung around to focus on Altaïr. Arabic wasn't something he knew by heart, something he'd learned out of spite after Yensin gave him Dari in fits and scraps in between binges of work, of torture, of despair. Shards of his home and his family offered up in carefully curated words, a language that served as a puzzle to keep his mind whirling, his body active when they were pushed to the brink.

It happened often.

He'd learned some, enough to have the roughest grasp on what was being yelled at them in other languages. But this? This was familiar for the lilting flow of it- though the meaning was only half present.

Parkour

[alittlelonger]

Rinoa is still getting comfortable in the village, but it's coming to her more naturally than it ever did in the Garden. Everyone was so kind there, and she had her friends, but she's been taking care of a house again and she has time to think. It used to be she never wanted to do much of that. She's grown up so quickly, from that reckless and naive seventeen year old to now. Not much later, but decades later it feels.

She is walking when she sees the man impressively jump up and practically seem to walk on walls, moving so quickly and gracefully that all she can do is watch. Zell is pretty spry, but this is a new level. She stops in her tracks to watch, and when he hits the ground again, she applauds for him. "I've never seen anything like that!" Rinoa has no reason to think anyone in this village means her ill so she simply walks forward toward him, dark eyes bright. "That was so impressive!"

[eaglesonofnone]

He made no move against her, not in the least. What he did do was raise a hand to his chest and give her a slow and respectful nod. "I used to be much better," he said, "but it is a beginning. Thank you, Shabbah."

He had altered his clothing that had appeared the night of the masquerade. His dishdasha was now slit further up the thighs to give him room to move, and was cinched around his waist with a sash that was part white and part magenta. And though he had a head covering, it showed his face in a way he still wasn't entirely comfortable with, but at least his head was covered. "Once I have regained my old skill, I have thought to teach others, as it seems it could be useful - especially amongst the trees."

[alittlelonger]

"I'm not sure what better than that looks like. I guess I'll see for myself when you keep practicing." Rinoa's found herself in a place with extremely talented people. Not that she and her friends didn't have their own skills, and they fought off great enemies, but these were specialized talents. All she could do was admire. "What does Shabbah mean?" She assumes it's something like ma'am or sir, but she wants to be sure. He's not from her culture or world, and Rinoa is always interested in learning from others.

That interest shows in her dark eyes when he mentions teaching, clasping her hands behind her back. "Oooh. Would you teach me? I'm spry, and I know how to fight, but only really to survive my world." Learning with general intent sounds useful. "At the very least we probably all should know how to climb those trees."

[eaglesonofnone]

"'Shabbah' generally translates to 'young woman.' A woman who is not yet a wife or matron, but is beyond girlhood," he said, "and I would be glad to teach. I may have to find or even build a course to do it properly, but some of the lower buildings here will work as a place to begin."

Altaïr looked at her as he spoke, taking measure. Where would he need to begin? She said she could fight, and he didn't doubt her, but he wondered what her fighting was compared to that of his Brotherhood, if her arms would hold her weight long enough for the proper skill to be taught - or if conditioning would need to be done first.

And thus, he asked, "How is the strength in your arms? Your hands? Can you hold your own weight from a branch or beam?"

[alittlelonger]

"Ooooh. Okay!" That sounds nice and respectful. "Is that in another language?" Rinoa knows she can be a little too inquisitive sometimes, so eventually she'll stop asking questions every other minute, but she's not there yet. She's not as bad as Selphie. "An obstacle course, you mean? That would be great!" She glances around the area to think of how that would look. It's a fun idea, and also probably helpful to get more agile.

She looks at her arms and then up at him, smiling. "I know they don't look like much, but I'm a lot stronger than I look. I had to hang off the edge of the Garden while it was moving for a long time. To explain how crazy that is, it's basically ... oh." Rinoa thought it through, looking at the buildings. "Actually it's too big to compare. The Garden is like a small city that moves mechanically, it flies, and during a fight I got blown off and had to hang onto it suspended over the land until Squall could come get me." That was a lifetime ago, in her mind, but in fact was only a few months ago. "Nothing like fear of death to make your arms hold on tighter than you can ever imagine though, right?"

[eaglesonofnone]

He nodded to answer her at first - and then at second, letting her words flow. She seemed so suddenly enthusiastic that this sort of answer was the best he could do until she was finished. Her enthusiasm was good, but between her and Hawke, he was almost certain that if he sat between them, he'd have no ears by the end of the day.

Her mentions of a city that flies, though. That caught his attention as something to ask about when he had the chance. But for now, he placed his attention back on the prospect of training. "Then we may have to begin with practice at pulling yourself up. Not only suspending your body's weight, but being able to draw upward and pull yourself with it. Much of what I can teach will involve strength in your upper body. Legs are already strong, For those, practice would be speed and certainty."

[alittlelonger]

Rinoa listens to him with wide eyes, fully engaged. She has a tendency to latch onto figures of authority other than her own father, who she went the opposite route with. It's a quality she hopes to outgrow some day, but for now it's how it is. And at least it's with someone practiced and wise. Everyone's so old here, though. She feels like a kid next to most of them and it makes her want to prove herself more.

"I get that. I mean you can hardly climb up a building like that if you can't lift yourself up!" Until she gets a new weapon from Mr. Stark, learning how to run away is probably her best option, and climbing up a building would be useful. She looks back at Altaïr, smiling. "Did you learn all this in a school?"

[eaglesonofnone]

"In a way," he answered. "I was raised into my skills, learning from the time I was very small. Our education was careful and thorough - our minds were taught as well as our bodies, but the physical lessons were the most strenuous." But then, after a pause, he added, "At least, in my experience. I cannot speak for all."

But he knew his own situation was different. His mind had always worked twice as hard. He wondered, he was curious, he tended to investigate when questions were put before him. Especially after the Nine and the Apple.

Parkour

[thekittenqueen]

The sudden thumping on her roof stirred Margaery awake, the afternoon nap disturbed by the surging fear that something was happening in the village. An earthquake? Her body felt cold as she jolted up, staring up at the ceiling. Her drowsiness had left her dazed, scrambling to sort out what was happening while panic fought for control.

Grabbing her cloak, she hurried outside, coming in time to see Altair leaped to the ground, rolling at impact. She blinked in surprise, still bracing herself for the earth to shake beneath her. It was such a common occurrence that she jumped to the natural disaster rather than something as simple as someone climbing onto her roof.

"Altair?" She asked, still uncertain with what she was seeing. "Were you on my roof?"

[eaglesonofnone]

He was breathing deeply but not hard, still slightly smiling in triumph. Yes, he missed Darim (he would love to do these runs with him, to meet him stride for stride, to race along rooftops, to leap from building to building in Dimashq, to tell him all the stories he'd never had a chance to tell--), but he felt more himself than he had in decades.

But never before, in all his years, had an inhabitant come out of a building to ask what was happening. Perhaps they were used to it, or perhaps, given the wars, they found it easier to ignore what happened and stay safe indoors.

All the same, he turned to face the familiar voice in surprise - and had the grace to look chagrined as he lifted a hand to his chest and gave her a slight bow. "Safety and peace - and my apologies. It seems I didn't think beyond the tip of my nose. I did not mean to disturb you, or anyone else."

[thekittenqueen]

He seemed proud of himself, but why eluded her. She turned to look back up at her roof before facing him again. It was such a strange thing that she couldn't even conceive of what he was doing. Had he been doing repairs or chasing something? She was still a bit drowsy from her nap, the long day of work having drained her. Meanwhile, he was energized and sweating.

"What were you doing?" She could be angry about this. It was too strange to view as a nuisance. No one else had done something like this, save when they were trying to avoid and outrun one of the monsters from the woods or the badger.

"You don't need to apologize." She pulled her cloak tighter against the wind, stepping further outside so she could stare up at her roof. "You should be careful. It has been in need of repairs and you might fall through."

[eaglesonofnone]

What he'd been about to say was forgotten in favour of looking to the roof and asking, "Has no one been attending to roofing repairs? That should be seen to before the seasons change and the roof has to hold up to the weight of snow." His smile became a look of concern, brows drawn together as he considered what little he knew of carpentry. Such things should be simple enough, but he was unpracticed - unlearned. Perhaps if he'd been able to spend more time near Rauf's family--

But that was neither here nor there. "I'll see what can be done, Okhti. And I'll not wake you with my practice again. I see you were sleeping before my impolite interruption."

[thekittenqueen]

"There was someone, but now I'm alone in the house and there is so much else to look after." She had someone help her with repairs before, but with the dwindling number of familiar faces, there was no one she could think to ask. In a way, she felt stubborn, not wanting to bother anyone and forcing her to do it instead. "I have learned so many of survival skills, but repair still alludes me."

She waved away his apology. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have been sleeping. I intended to do some weaving before the sun set and I was simply being lazy. But what is this practice?"

[eaglesonofnone]

His frown had deepened when she'd mentioned being alone and repair falling short, but then she spoke of weaving and it was the first spark of hope he'd felt in some time. That she wove was a gift - and it settled something inside him that had been shifting about for some time. This? This was a start.

As she finished speaking, he took a few steps closer and motioned to her roof. "It was a part of my training when I was young. We were taught certain skills. How to run across obstacles with confidence. How to jump, climb, and balance without hesitation. We honed our bodies to precision, and I intend to regain the skills I had let lapse."

[thekittenqueen]

The loom had been a gift as well, offering hr a means to keep warm and to put her sheep's wool to good use. With the spinning wheel and butter churn as well, she was able to contribute a great deal to the village. And once her animals had a barn, she could encourage them to breed more, bringing in more milk.

"You must have a great deal of confidence about your balance." While she was a brave woman, it was disturbing to imagine running across the roof lines. One misstep and he could fall to the ground. "What were these skills used for?"

[eaglesonofnone]

The answer was one she likely expected: "Fighting."

But the explanation... "To keep our nation safe, and to defend others who had no means to defend themselves. To better our society, even if it meant endangering our own lives. To protect humanity from those who would control them. And to protect the world from destruction. Put that way, it sounds like we did a great deal more than we truly did - but we fought as best we could."