Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eaglesonofnone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
aterat2020-07-28 09:01 am
eaglesonofnone) wrote in aterat2020-07-28 09:01 am
Wrestling with these contradictions.
Altaïr was still unsure about this place. He'd been keeping to himself so far with great intent, watching from the rooftops and, though he'd been assigned a building and a room, he'd yet to enter it, having slept on those rooftops as he had countless times before.
The story they told about rebuilding, about strange magic - though he couldn't deny the magic, as much as he wanted to, it struck him with doubt. If this was a place to rebuild, why him? He was a killer. It was what he'd been raised and trained to do. He had no purpose in a place trying to rebuild unless someone specific was hampering that process. He could eliminate them, certainly. But why?
It wasn't as if he wanted to return to Masyaf. Not consciously, at least. Now that he'd seen precisely how conditional Al Mualim's care was, how he would be treated for doing precisely what he'd been raised and taught to do. He'd already wanted to leave the Brotherhood. That, he'd certainly done. Not of his own accord, true enough, but he'd left. This was, in its way, a chance to change things. It was what he'd hoped to do with Adha. But at least she would have been there and taught him another way of life.
Here... what did he have here? Nothing. Nothing at all.
He dropped own onto the street level between a pair of buildings, careful to not be seen before stepping out into foot traffic. He was hungry. While he had no money beyond what had been granted to him on his arrival, it was surely enough, with what he'd saved so far, to purchase a bit of food. He could've stolen it, but why? It served no purpose. Not yet. And he wasn't yet that desperate.
Food. For now, that would serve as a goal.
The story they told about rebuilding, about strange magic - though he couldn't deny the magic, as much as he wanted to, it struck him with doubt. If this was a place to rebuild, why him? He was a killer. It was what he'd been raised and trained to do. He had no purpose in a place trying to rebuild unless someone specific was hampering that process. He could eliminate them, certainly. But why?
It wasn't as if he wanted to return to Masyaf. Not consciously, at least. Now that he'd seen precisely how conditional Al Mualim's care was, how he would be treated for doing precisely what he'd been raised and taught to do. He'd already wanted to leave the Brotherhood. That, he'd certainly done. Not of his own accord, true enough, but he'd left. This was, in its way, a chance to change things. It was what he'd hoped to do with Adha. But at least she would have been there and taught him another way of life.
Here... what did he have here? Nothing. Nothing at all.
He dropped own onto the street level between a pair of buildings, careful to not be seen before stepping out into foot traffic. He was hungry. While he had no money beyond what had been granted to him on his arrival, it was surely enough, with what he'd saved so far, to purchase a bit of food. He could've stolen it, but why? It served no purpose. Not yet. And he wasn't yet that desperate.
Food. For now, that would serve as a goal.
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She thought about that for a moment and let the implications sink in before carefully setting them aside. Syeira wasn't the kind of person who liked to push for personal information. "You have a choice now don't you? Why don't you find something you like?"
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Yet he wondered. It was worth a thought. More than a thought? Perhaps. He wasn't sure. The last time he had found something he'd liked...
"I will consider," he said, voice low, thoughts heavy with the memory of Adha.
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"Have you gotten used to things here? It's exciting that we have phones now." She pulled out the phone from a hidden pocket in her skirt.
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Odd how, now, the two memories entwined.
Assassins weren't taught in ways that made them heavy-bodied and bulky. Masses of muscle were counterproductive to their way of life - to their very purpose. Their strength was guided in a different way, toward lithe, compact muscle that left it easy for them to run and climb, to strike and get away before guards could reach them. For them to slide narrowly through crowds and disappear in plain sight. In order to be fleet of foot and smooth of movement, they were taught to dance. To move on the balls of their feet and be certain of their balance. To bend and sway at their joints in ways that most men wouldn't understand. And to find information and conceal themselves in ways that few would volunteer for.
Before he had been a Master, he had, himself, been sent as a dancer to the homes of merchant princes and festivals where whispers were spoken among entertainers that none would think listened. He had performed well enough, but it was not his forte. Not the dancing, but projecting an expression of enjoyment on his face.
Now, he doubted he could do that much. Dance, that was. Not when his memories would forever link dancing to finding Adha. Just the thought brought a twist to his heart and a stone to his stomach. Adha, with her hair and eyes like onyx, with her cunning as sharp as a blade. Unconsciously, his hand went to the hilt of his sword, not even realising he'd done it until he felt the cool metal against his palm. The sword she'd given him. At least that much remained.
And, in the way of all thoughts, it had all passed through his mind in less than a handful of heartbeats - just long enough to leave him trying to piece together what Syeira had asked of him, and answering with a small admission: "I do not know what that is."
Better to think of that than how 'liking' and 'dancing' now both led to a pain he needed to forget.
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"A phone? It's a way to communicate. I didn't have one before but-" Her lips tugged into a frown.
"What is it? You were-" His expression was practiced and Syeira couldn't read it but there were branches beyond the present where his mask fractured by only the smallest detail. "I don't know. I worry that I had upset you. You don't have to like anything... that is, I hope you like me but... I don't want to force you. You can choose. No matter what it is."
She wanted everyone to know that they could control their future. There were endless possibilities and while they couldn't control others actions, they have the power to affect things with their own hands.