sixthiterationlogs | Cold Arrival

WHO: Malik Al-Sayf
WHERE: Fountain Square, Inn, around the village
WHEN: 12/29
OPEN TO: Fountain: Altaïr, Elsewhere: OTA
WARNINGS: mention of past character death, tbd

Fountain: Altaïr

As far as rude revivals went, regaining consciousness underwater was pretty high up there. That it was also freezing didn't help anything in the slightest. Malik isn't entirely sure how he makes it to the surface or the edge of the fountain where he clings and tries to catch his breath.

He knows he needs to get out of the water and in to somewhere at least sheltered if not warm. That or dip back under and call his merfolk form around him. There's something off though, besides the seeming lack of other Travelers in the water with him. He tries to reach for his magic, and that's when he figures out what's out of place.

He can't access any of his bag of tricks. No magic, no portals to Liminal, no shapeshifting either.

He swears under his breath, clinging tightly to the edge of the fountain.

“Hello?” He calls out, hoping there's someone within earshot even as he struggles up out of the water as best he can with one arm while shivering.

Inn: OTA

Malik had genuinely forgotten exactly how much the cold bothered him, being able to magically ignore it had spoiled him against the unique aches it brought to his left shoulder. Which, much to his dismay, has reproduced in his knees.

He's managed to settle himself at a table close to the fireplace, which he eyes on occasion like he's contemplating actually pressing himself against the bricks or just crawling inside of. Mostly though, he eats and attempts to eavesdrop on anyone coming in.

There's something he notices though, as he eats and its enough to actually give him pause to stare at the dish before him.

“That is new.” He admits aloud, frowning.

Wildcard

He hasn't been here long, but there are some rather important things that Malik needs to test out before all hell breaks loose as it usually does. So he finds a nostly out of the place to try things out.

While most of it seems to involve standing there looking increasingly annoyed, he does eventually take to throwing stones he dug out of the snow at a cleared bit of ground with remarkable precision while looking murderous.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"They are a collective of interplanar beings who align with the Major Arcana of the Tarot. Whether they or the cards came first is a matter of chickens and eggs." Malik explained, wobbling his hand in the air.

"Briefly, yes. He was... exceedingly English." He only barely contains an eyeroll at that, but manages well enough to not actually do so. He frowns at the fact that Desmond had killed Daniel.

He'd rather liked the man, for all his quirks. They'd had interesting conversations when sleep had eluded them both.

"Sometimes we fought, sometimes we interfered in politics or investigations in to things. How those events played out seemed to determine the winner of each round, a bit like a game of chess and how checkmate was gotten to mattered as much as getting it. They never really explained anything."

"This doesn't seem to fit that style, so not sure if we're dealing with the same super beings. Who knows, maybe they're all related. The Arcana was like we're bored with this pawn so here, go do experiments on him." A bunch of ultra powerful beings playing games at the same time in separate places is also possible of course, but the odds of Malik being grabbed randomly by multiples seems kind of low. "I'd suspect it of Juno, but she's not really tapped into anything but her own selfishness." Seriously he wants her dead. Dead dead dead.

"Three years you were doing that?" He sighs and rubs at his eyes. They're always a little hollow these days, due to lack of sleep and restless hours. "People have been here a few years too I think, I haven't looked too deeply through shit in the inn." Desmond shrugs. "It doesn't matter, I can't go back home because I'm dead, so this is it." It's fine. Mostly fine. He was really tired of being alive in that world anyway. "I guess this is less of a headache for you since you've lived through weirder shit."

"Probably not the same, no. Though I expect the Arcana dumped me here because they do not want to deal with me for a while." Malik agreed, even as his face twists in to an apologetic sort of half grin.

Three years, twenty realities and fifteen different people's lives within those realities. It was more than he was willing to deal with untangling at the moment, even as his expression softens with understanding.

"Dying is rarely pleasant, and...I do not blame you for being alright with being here instead of facing resurrection back home. If you are anything like Altair, you will likely be remembered fondly though, for whatever that is worth."

"Oh so you're still a trouble maker, good to know." It was mostly a joke, since Malik was far more level headed than Altair was in his youth. It was strange, talking to him like this. He wasn't used to it yet, used to these people being people and not memories. Desmond also remembered Malik's death and the horror of seeing that head, but he really didn't want to think about it. That was Altair's pain. He wasn't sure if Malik knew, so he wasn't going to go there.

"I really don't know," he said honestly. "It's possible I will, I left my father a message about how I'd like my story to be told. But who knows if he will share it." Desmond knew Shaun and Rebecca possibly remembered him. His father and mother, he didn't know, they'd grieve in their own separate ways. William was still a mystery to his son. He always would be. "How was ...." He paused. "Was Shaun okay?" He cared a great deal for the snobby Brit, not that they ever admitted as much to each other.

"I was all but born to cause trouble, Desmond." Malik managed to smile, "I am simply better at not drawing attention to it than others."

He has as much of a trickster streak as any in the Brotherhood, it had just rarely had a chance to come to light.

"He seemed healthy enough, though I think being in the same room as all of us was intimidating. He left unharmed, and was not drawn back in to the Arcana's game as far as I know."

"Was trouble your middle name?" Desmond smiled faintly back at him. This was all really exhausting, honestly. It was one thing to accept they were in some kind of insane afterlife, and another to know this was only one of many situations. If he left here, he could die, or he could just go to another weird torture chamber from super powered overlords. It was hilarious that he thought at any point he wasn't a pawn for someone.

"I'm glad to hear that. I wouldn't really wish this place on him, he'd hate it and hate me for thinking about him coming here." But you know. A part of him does want it. "Our friend Lucy's here, I know we both would like to see him and Rebecca at least once more, but ... whatever." It didn't matter.

He glanced back at Malik. "So what happened during those years? Highlights?"

"It should be." Malik replied, before dropping to sit on one of the chairs.

He rubs his hand over his face, sighing. "What you want does matter, regardless of what is going on or how impossible it seems. Though if you want I can put on a sweater vest and tell you about how inaccurate history books are."

He's trying for a joke, even if it's a poor one and he knows it.

"Highlights... well, I almost married both a vampire and Leonardo da Vinci. Leonardo left before I could ask and Melissa agreed. I also died... five times. Maybe six, I lost count somewhere. Fourteen overlays will do that to you I think."

Desmond shot him an amused look. "You're telling me, a guy who lived through three ancestors' lives, that history books are inaccurate?" He chuckled. "It's honestly a good thing I was never in a history class of some kind when I knew all of that, I'd just wan to correct them constantly. I lived through it would seem like a crazy claim." Except Desmond didn't go to normal school.

That fact though made his eyes widen. "You and Leo? Wow. I mean, good pull, he was cute, and he did love his assassins." Desmond just figured if he was going to marry an assassin it would be Ezio, but that was impossible back then, and also, clearly not what happened. "And a vampire too. Shit, I'm sorry they aren't here then." Losing a spouse or multiple lovers like that? Harsh. He had a moment of panic, thinking about what would happen if Lucy was taken from him too. It made him too sick to focus on so he ignored it.

"Uh ... to be honest, this place might be boring in comparison."

"Most accounts are disturbingly eurocentric." Malik huffed in only half joking indigence about the matter.

He actually manages to look shy beneath weary sort of sadness that actually thinking about Leonardo and Melissa brought. "They both had...very big hearts, Melissa just hid hers better. I admit that I am not sure I want them here, much as it would be good to see them, the idea of them being happily back home is far more reassuring of one. I would rather they be happy more than anything else.

'I will happily take boring for the time being, though I doubt I will sit around doing nothing for long."

"Of course they are. To the victors go the spoils. Or whoever writes the most books and gets the most people to believe they're true wins the court of public opinion." He learned a thing or two from living in history. It all depended on who was telling the story.

"You're a lot less selfish than I am. I do kind of want to see Shaun and Rebecca again. Maybe not stuck here permanently, they'd hate it, but I don't know. I guess I just want them to know that Lucy and I are alright somewhere." Desmond really doesn't know how they would feel about Lucy being there, because it was something they just didn't talk about. He liked to think they at least wouldn't mind her being alive somewhere.

Cold Arrival

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