Aterat; In Character Community

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.