sixthiterationlogs | Four | The Chance to Travel

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Four | The Chance to Travel

WHO: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
WHERE: Within the South Village
WHEN: Roughly Dec. 10
OPEN TO: Nida Nomura, Kate Kelly, and Jacob Frye
WARNINGS: None as yet, will edit if any come up

Moving Day:

He hadn't gathered much in the way of belongings here. His clothing, a notebook, his firewood, and some food stores. And, looking around, he realised there wasn't much he'd miss. He'd spent the last day copying down all that he'd written on the walls of his root cellar and then scraping it away so the next inhabitant wouldn't see it. Then, he had begun removing his vegetables. Some of his potatoes had taken a liking to the cellar here and he hoped they'd do so in the new house he'd chosen as well.

When he'd first arrived, he'd been unsure as to what he'd come to find. He'd prepared for many things, but family was not among them. At the time, choosing to live on the outskirts of the village had made sense. He'd seen himself as a line of defense. Now, he knew he wasn't alone in that sort of endeavor. There were people he wanted to watch after, an organisation he needed to keep up - and all of that meant that he needed to be nearer to the center of town, so all of it was closer at hand. And thus, there were a few borrowed containers sitting out on his porch, waiting for him to pick them up and take them to his new home while he went through the house, making certain he'd forgotten nothing.

For the Sake of Food:

Most of what he'd needed to carry back and forth to his new house had been food. A root cellar's worth that he'd carefully attended to, to the point where his potatoes had sprouts and there was a chance he'd be able to propagate a few others if they took to this new cellar well enough. He'd let Nida go after enough trips and now had the last container in his arms, already planning how it would all be laid out in the cellar once he settled in. It had been a surprisingly good day. He'd not really gotten attached to the house past the river, but there was still a little fondness in his heart for it. After all, a roof over one's head was still valuable. He was thinking about what he'd miss on this last trip and was nigh deciding that the river was what he'd miss most as he passed the Inn.

Home Inspection:

Now that his things were in the house, he was working at making the place livable. There was a decent amount of work to do: linens brought out onto the porch to be beaten free of dust, surfaces to be wiped and swept, a fire to be built. Everything else was delayed until he could finish the basic parts of making a house a home. But one thing did occur to him as the sheets were rippling in the breeze that came through: he wanted to be sure his roof was worthwhile. And that was why he stood at the center of it, testing how it felt under his feet, checking to see if it held or swayed, or if there were any shingles that needed to be replaced. He knew little about such things, but he could surely manage something if it fell short.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He watches the other man, taking in the robes, the way he moves with such ease, and he thinks of Connor. So much the same as he was, and yet so different, but knowing that he's not alone, he's acutely aware of of each person he meets. Now not only looking for those that might well be templars but seeing how many of them they've brought to this place.

Reaching up to push back the "hoodie" - brilliantly thought up name there with no imagination - Jacob shifts up onto his feet. Moving easily, drawing his legs up and then pushing himself up into a crouch. Pushing to his full height - such as it was - and then leaning casually back against the chimney.

"Falling is an art," he admits with a chuckle, finding it amusing to speak the truth, even if not clearly. "Though I suppose the distance isn't that much," he says, looking over the edge as if for the first time and shrugging.

Though his gaze lifts back to Altair with a grin. "Not but a week, I guess it's been. Definitely not long enough to find nifty robes," he says, gesturing at him with one hand. "An interesting look. Memorable."

Easy enough to jump across to the other roof, landing with a distinctively light step. "They were gifted to me before a harvest banquet," he said, smoothing down the chest with his left hand. His four-fingered left hand.

There was something familiar about him. About his eyes. His colouration. The way he moved, the way he spoke, how his eyes traced over distinctive features. He would not presume, but he did assume his hand would draw some sort of reaction. All the easier to guess who it was that stood before him.

As if his next words would not.

"My name is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. And you?"

If nothing else, that easy leap definitely confirms in Jacob's mind that this is like with Connor. It's exciting, not to mention a bit frightening. What kind of templar unit can grab this many assassins and gather them without any of them having a clue how they came to be in this place?

Jacob opened his mouth to reveal his name, and then he just stops. Not a word. Congrats Altair, you managed to shut up Jacob. For a minute.

"You're Altair? They Altair? I... That's entirely not what I expected," he admits, still just kind of staring, wide eyed, blinking. "Uhmm, right. Name. Jacob Frye. London. 1868."

Jacob Frye.

The names immediately connected and he asked, "Husband or relative of Evie?"

If he was her husband, he owed great apology. Truly, no matter husband or relative, he owed apology for the liberty he had accidentally taken. Or, he thought after a heartbeat, did he? She was an Assassin. That made her more free than most women, and he had no doubt that she could have had her measure of him if she'd wanted.

Perhaps it was best not to say at all.

A brow arches at that and then he chuckles. "Leave it to Evie to meet Altair before dragging me out of the fountain," he says, definitely amused and not hiding it. "Brother, actually. Twin, in fact," he adds, rocking on the balls of his feet despite their precarious perch.

"How is this even possible?" Because amazing as it could be to meet Altair... "Wait, are you a relative?" Nose wrinkling, not buying that either.

Twin. Now that he said it, he could see the resemblance more clearly. Especially in height. Curiously, he stepped forward to find that their height difference was greater than he'd first thought. It was true that few in his home reached his height, but most were closer than Jacob. Hm. Did they not feed them enough in London?

"I doubt we are related," he said after a moment's musing, though he did continue his evaluation. "Unless you are related to my wife. Your sister does greatly resemble her."

"Sorry. Not enough clarity," he says with a chuckle, shifting his weight to be able to cant his head back slightly and keep Altair's gaze as he moves closer. "A relative of the Altair. I mean, the number of years it's been, after all. I'm just trying to work all of this out, how it is even possible."

And that has his eyes narrowing, trying to work that out in his head. A brow arches though, smirking.

"If this is leading to talk of my sister being attractive, I'll truly have to point out all of the ways that we're nearly identical," he points out.

"You are nearly identical," he agreed, "though you have more scars. You are more brash, then, where she is more subtle. Both useful approaches. Often brashness is necessary when subtlety goes unnoticed.

"But to answer your question." He met Jacob's eyes with curiosity. He'd already heard from Evie that the codex, in some form, had survived for all of the intervening years, and that the years were many. "I am Altaïr of Masyaf, and this place has the odd ability to draw people from many times and many worlds. There are some even farther ahead than you."

A brow arches, amused by that assessment. Especially at how acutely accurate it is.

"Or when subtlety is only going to make things worse than better," he notes, but then of course he believes that's the case because he hasn't the ability to be subtly. Up to and including if his life depended on it.

"How is that even possible," he muses, more amused than he is upset about this kind of reality. "It's an honor. I mean... amazing and a bit odd, but an honor."

Because even someone was reckless as Jacob can truly recognize the respect owed to the man before him.

He shook his head just a bit. "I have yet to find out how it is possible. I suspect the involvement of a device like a Piece of Eden, but I am unsure. Whatever it is, it holds great power, and all such things are best approached with caution - even for those like us." That last was a light taunt - one he couldn't help but give. "The place where I found your sister seems to be a source of some of these things. People who arrive. Other such things that I've no name for. It is all to be looked into once my plans are more in order."

Easier said than done, and he would admit it if asked. Much had been happening, and he'd been caught up in it as much as anyone else.

Despite his arguments with Evie over those bits and pieces she obsesses over, Jacob can't admit the likelihood that they have something to do with things here. It's just about the only thing that makes sense. He nods though.

"Down in the bunker. She's talked about that, about how different our arrivals in this place were. She talks about the devices and machines. Nothing like we've seen either," he admits, though he suspects they've already talked about that.

He exhaled. "Then it is beyond the both of us - for now."

For now. If anything, he had always proven himself adept at learning. Now was the time to learn more.

"As it is, I am simply glad to know that there are more members of the Brotherhood here that I can rely upon, both subtle and brash. I look forward to working alongside you, Jacob Frye."

He makes a face at that, hating anything being beyond him like that. Certainly there have been issues, things that he didn't take the time, but these machines are nothing he's ever tried to understand. Not like this.

"It's my honor," he says, speaking words that don't always come easily to Jacob, though given what they've recently been through, that well changed his demeanor as well. "Is there anything I can help with?"

The thought came to him and...

"Perhaps," he said, coming to stand at Jacob's side. "Once the weather is warmer and exploration is more easily accomplished, I intend to search for a location I believe to be to the east and south of here - though more exact calculations will have to be made. The bunker we both know of - it is far to our north and west, but as there is a second village, there is a possibility that there is a second bunker that has yet to be discovered."

He considers that, head canting slightly. "And in that bunker may lie an answer in how they managed all they have. Not just bringing us here but defeating time as well," he says with a nod.

"It will be my honor," he says, nodding. "I'm at your service."

He gave Jacob a flash of a smile, reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder. "I will not be so hard a taskmaster you come to resent me - or at the least, I will make every effort to be tolerable. For now, what we can do is prepare. Remain in fighting form, spar and practice in these new environs. I look forward to having another Brother here to practice against."

Jacob chuckles, not seemingly bothered by the idea. "Trust me, you can never be worse than the man that trained us for this path. I'm certainly not worried," he admits, glad to have the possibility of a task here, a path to stay on without London or the templars. Or at least not the tamplars in any form he is familiar with.

"Well be ready, no matter what they bring at us," he vows, smiling. "And I look forward to seeing how badly our styles clash," he says, definitely teasing, though he suspects that is merely speaking the truth.

A momentary laugh and Altaïr asked, "Just how is it that they train you, then? Surely the use of the Hidden Blade has yet to fall out of favour. It is too efficient of a weapon."

But he was curious and kept his eyes on Jacob thoughtfully. The height difference would change some things, but it would be more advantageous in others. It would be easier for him to take advantage of his lower center of gravity, for instance, and knock opponents off their feet. That was something Altaïr could only rarely do, and usually from brute force alone - which was not his specialty.

His hand rubs over his forearm, sighing at the missing gauntlet. "Most certainly, and I miss them sorely here. As much as I do many other things, but those most of all," he admits. "I've been working with them as long as I've been able to hold the weight. Evie and I both," he admits.

"Evie is much more of finesse. I tend to be a bit more brute force and brawling," he admits, smiling a bit fondly at that. "I've got skills with many weapons though, and our gauntlets have grappling hooks as well."

"Grappling hooks," Altaïr echoed. "An interesting addition. Though I imagine it held the possibility of making you a lazy climber." He gave Jacob a knowing glance. "I added a firearm, myself. Very small, but powerful. I am glad to see you have all of your fingers, though. The change I made to the trigger mechanism has remained."

Jacob tenses at that, arching a scarred brow. "Do you believe that? Have you seen the skyline of London and what it takes to climb it? Or seen the abilities I possess from running those rooftops?"

Offended? Kind of. Oops. He waggles his fingers, showing they were all there, trying to be dismissive of the attitude he has suddenly taken.

"I carried a separate pistol, and a few other blades."

Altaïr chuckled, though, his voice holding a light warmth - tone trying to prove he teased rather than lending his faux accusation sincerity. "No. I have not seen London. I wanted to see the world, but becoming Mentor put a great deal between that wish and my reality. Darim intended to go. Maria had seen it. But the London they saw would have been different from the one you knew. Doubtlessly much less tall."

But then he was letting his breath go, slow and quiet as he looked up toward the sky. "That is something I miss, however. This place has no suitable height to see a threat coming."

"We may use devices, but I swear we have not grown weak because of it." He didn't care most of the time how others saw him, but it truly did bother him to imagine those names he was raised with seeing him in that way.

"And by the time you get to a good speed," he laments with a sigh and a shake of his head. "You're already out of rooftops."

"I promise you, Jacob, I can tell you are an able climber. Your shoulders alone tell that story," he said, "and I do intend to build a course of some sort for us. Until then, have you yet attempted the trees? It is tricky but possible to run along them as we do rooftops. I'll have to show you how to judge branches. I had to have someone show me."

"Not since I was younger..." Says the man who is barely twenty one years. "But I think you're right. I'll have to reteach myself. Anything to get higher than a flight of stairs." Which the houses are, but it's nothing like what he's used to, or what he desires.

Four | The Chance to Travel

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