asgardmeridiem | JUNE INTRO MINGLE

Entry tags:

JUNE INTRO MINGLE

Who: Newbies and anyone who wishes to greet them!
What: Getting used to the city
When: Days 274 and forward
Where: Anywhere in town!
Rating: PG-13 tops! If it gets worse, move to a private log please.

[Please include your location and the IC day (ex. Day 275) in your top-level comment or your subject line when starting a thread! It can be any welcome hall, major attraction, or just out an about in any district. For newbies making a top-level thread, you may include your character's name/canon/house in your subject line if you'd like, to make housemates easy to find! :) If a God is needed or wanted, please ping the mods and depending on availability we might be able to throw them in where asked.

Also, keep an eye on the event schedule for June! If you're ICly introing during an event, make sure you take that into account. Thank you!

Have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's a good question from Alastair, one he's a little surprised they've never answered before, but then Maria's temper gets the better of her and he knows he has to step in there before this gets even worse. Judging from the look on Ezio's face, it may already be too late.]

Maria, please—there's no need for that. This has all been a mistake.

[She may direct her wrath at him next for that, but right now it's more important to help his co-master understand; he can pepper Maria with his many questions afterward.]

Yes, I have a wife, and this is her. I had no idea she'd been brought to Asgard. But we're in no danger.

[Well, he might be for placating Maria's 'abductor'.]

[Too late? Oh, it's far beyond too late. At Maria's biting tongue, Ezio's eyes narrow, mouth going into a straight line. His tone is irked.]

He failed to mention you. Or where your allegiance lies.

[There may just be a moment where Ezio is shooting daggers at Altaïr, for that lack of information. Sorry, bro.

Still, after a tense moment and listening to what the other says, he breathes, keeping his inner thoughts to himself and simply staring back at the other.]

Fine. I trust you, fratello. But there will be much that needs to be explained when this is over.

[Poor Alastair's question is ignored in favor of trying to make the situation less tense overall. He probably won't be answered at this point at all.]

[Well.

He really should've expected that.

Alastair glances around at everyone glaring at each other, throws up his hands and walks away. The last few customers left in the shop he gently urges to gtfo and when they're all out he shuts the door, locks it, and flips the sign to "CLOSED."

With that done, he walks over to the counter and hops up onto it, leaning against the register and crossing his arms as he watches.]

Might as well explain it now.

[He still has no idea what's going on but he knows they need to talk it out or they're going to be pissed for days.]

[Maria is on the verge of being absolutely livid, and she does not for one second miss the glower Ezio shoots at Altaïr and, frayed as her temper already is, mistakes it for hostility.

She counts to ten as the customers leave, trying to get her temper under control before she blows her top spectacularly, and she squares her stance as she lifts her chin and intercepts one dirty look with another of her own making. Her tone is positively icy when she does speak, dangerously calm.]

I'm going to assume that you know precisely what sort of man my husband is or you wouldn't be assuming that I'm a Templar and treating me as though I'm about to bring havoc down upon you, and if that is the case then do you honestly think he'd be that stupid? And if I was a Templar then don't you think I'd be a little more interested in taking his head rather than his hand?

[And now she's going to shoot a dangerous look at Altaïr.]

I suppose you while you were busy not telling anyone about your wife you neglected to mention your son too. Altaïr, if you are here then who is with Darim?

[

what

Now it's Altaïr's turn to look at Maria and stare like she's something bizarre and unknown, as if what she's said makes no sense.]

My son?

[His wide eyes and the absolute shock on his face should make it perfectly clear that this is not something he knew about and neglected to mention. Which doesn't actually help the situation at all.]

[It is deadly quiet on Ezio's end after Maria's rant. Mostly because he's doing his utmost to not just explode from everything happening and walk out the door. No, that won't solve anything, and only cause more chaos to erupt in its place. Instead, he breathe in and out, calms himself, reminding him of the time he lost his temper at Claudia, and how that ended.

There are words that will be said. Something about Assassins and befriending Templars and the trusting between the two- but all of that goes flying out the window when Maria mentions son and more importantly, Darim.

It's as if two pieces of a long connected puzzle suddenly clicked.

His head snaps back towards Alastair at this point, steps forward a little to him, and tilts his head.]

Alastair- Darim.

[It's his way of asking "do you remember him?" Because Darim was here. Not as a baby, nor a child, but a grown man. It would explain a lot, in how much he knew of Altaïr, and his past.]

[Well hey the plot just keeps thickening, doesn't it. If Alastair knew anything about soap operas he'd think he was watching one, but he doesn't.

In any case, when Ezio looks at him he sits up, and at first Alastair isn't certain what he's talking about.]

What about...

[And then it clicks. His eyes widen and he glances back at Maria and Altaïr before looking back to Ezio.]

...oh. You think...?

Sì.

[There is an eyebrow raise at that, and he pulls away slightly from the other two. There is a quick flash of a finger to his lips, telling Alastair to keep it quiet, and then it is gone.

But there is something less in the tension in the air, now. He has no intent to further aggravate Maria, or badger her with questions. Let Altaïr explain what he can, though Ezio is still rather uncertain about her cloak and why he has it.]

[Maria, for her part, is paying no attention to what might be going on between the other two because for the moment, what is happening in front of her on her husband's face is considerably more alarming.

He looks at her in astonishment and not for the first time today she feels a sick sense of wrongness about everything.]

Yes. Our son, Darim.

[Her voice is a little softer from uncertainty, and she can't quite work out what's going wrong here but she can feel it in her gut that nothing about this is right at all.]

What's going to happen to him if we can't go home?

[Altaïr doesn't even hear anything that his brothers might say, because he's too busy processing what he's just heard. A son—his son. They'd talked about such a thing, wanted it, but the last day he'd been in Masyaf before being taken here, it had been very much a part of the future. So how could she possibly—

And then the reality of the way Asgard functions crashes down on him again. This is definitely another twisting of time, isn't it?]

Things will be...fine.

[Altaïr almost shakes his head at that. He sounds ridiculously uncertain even to his own ears.]

Maria, what is the last thing you remember before you found yourself here? What were you doing right before they took you? And where was I?

What are you talking about? We were at home, I was coming to see you, you'd been riding and you had just returned. Malik said you were in your chambers, I was coming to welcome you home and fetch you for dinner.

[She is utterly perplexed by this, looking at him in disbelief that is bordering on pained. Heedless of their audience, she finds his hand and grasps it between hers.]

Altaïr you are scaring me, why are you looking at me like that?

[He squeezes back automatically, but for a moment longer he can only try to put the words together in his head. It's not going very well.]

Because for me, that hasn't happened yet. I haven't seen you—or Malik—in weeks now. It's to do with how time works here.

But you were with me this morning. Before you left to ride you took our son from my arms and kissed him and set him before you in the saddle on your horse. The motion scared him and he cried too much, you had to hand him back to me. Remember?

[Her grip on his hands tightens as she sees no sign of recognition.]

[He shakes his head, feeling helpless and wishing he could say anything that would ease the anxiety he sees in her face.]

I have never met him, Maryam.

[By now he's discussed the way this land distorts time with a number of people, but Altaïr finds himself at a complete loss when it comes to explaining it to his wife in a way that makes sense, and he casts a quick, desperate glance at Ezio. A little help, grandson, please?!]

Edited 2013-07-29 19:24 (UTC)

[The sight of pain and a desperate look from Altaïr causes Ezio to start up, stepping forward and addressing the issue.

Gently, so as to not seem as if he's barging in on something that is extremely important-]

Madonna, do you recall me saying that when we are finished with this war, we will be returned home? That we are from different realms and different times?

[A pause here, as to let the words sink in.]

Those who are from our time, the ones we recognize, may not be from the same time as we are. It could be months apart, or years. I have seen both. [And experienced it.

Another moment of silence on his end goes by, then he turns his head back to his fellow brother.]

Altaïr, what year is it for you, back home?

[Altaïr is grateful for the intervention. Even just a few seconds' reprieve allows him to collect himself. He's rarely at such a a loss for words, but then, he's never been told he's a father before.

In any case, he's equally glad that Ezio seems to have calmed his anger and at least suppressed his confusion, though doubtless there remains much to discuss. His explanation makes the situation sound so simple, but it is unlikely that Maria will find it so easy to accept.]

1193. A little over two years since I hunted the nine Templars, and Al Mualim fell. [He looks back at Maria, already knowing it won't be the same for her.] We were married less than two months before I was brought here.

[She looks between Altaïr and his friend, the surprise on her face clearly still evident before she visibly forces herself to become collected, taking a deep breath and exhaling through her nose. This is impossible, it should not be and yet there is no other explanation for it.

She suddenly feels incredibly tired, like all the fight has gone from her.]

We have been married for two years. Darim was born in the winter of that first year. That is as I know it.

Obviously it is not the same for him. [There is a sigh here, and he continues.] When I had first arrived in Asgard, it had just become the year 1500. My sister arrived soon after me, but she was ahead by four years, and was in the same position you are right now.

[He's used to this, really. After being here for eight months, things like this slowly become a part of daily life in the city. It's... something he doesn't think about much, just does.]

It happens like that here. Those who took us from our homes don't treat time as a path that must be walked. But when I saw you, I never dreamed that you'd have experienced so much more than me.

[Two years isn't such a great span of time, but much can happen in two years. It's a somber realization, and one that Altaïr suspects will take some time to sink in. But it could have been much, much worse. Maria could have arrived here only to find him as the arrogant fool he'd once been. He doesn't even want to imagine what would have happened if the gods had plucked her from when she swore her loyalty to Robert de Sable.

He shakes his head a little. Self-indulgent reflection can wait; now is the time to help her fully come to grips with the situation.]

But many of us also get the chance to meet those we're connected to more distantly. Like Ezio. [He nods at the Italian.] He's an Assassin, Maria. Like me, he leads the Order in his time. Alastair is also one of our brothers. And this shop holds the bureau of the Assassins in Asgard.

Ah, so Signore Ezio and Master Alastair took one look at my cloak and thought me a Templar.

[It's all a bit much to have to deal with, these differences in time and place, in the events that she holds dear to her heart that her husband has no idea of because, for him, they have yet to come to pass. To hear that this Italian man, Ezio, is from four hundred years in their future is eye-opening enough; that he is an Assassin who distantly succeeds Altaïr in his time is even more surprising and a fateful coincidence, she things.

As overwhelmed as she might be about the whole situation, she tries valiantly to claw some control back with a wry smile as she nods her head towards Ezio, and then a little more hesitantly at Alastair who she is not quite sure if she forgives yet. Her wrist still hurts.

She squares her shoulders and composes herself, and as she has done so many times before in her capacity as mistress of Masyaf, she takes her husband's arm and tucks her hand neatly into the crook of his elbow. For a moment she thinks it might be worth remembering her manners and introducing herself properly, but then again...]

In that case it is a very good thing that I am no longer one or else this might have turned ugly.

[Alastair raises his hand slightly from his position on the counter.]

Actually I have no idea what a Templar is, Ezio just said you couldn't leave the shop.

[He frowns a little his hand lowering again.]

Is your wrist all right, by the way? I'm sorry about that. I can fix it if it isn't.

[He's about to throw another look at Maria, especially for the words "I am no longer one," when Alastair speaks up. And that causes Ezio to blink for a second. Oh. Oops. To be fair, they have never truly had any Templar show- and the one that did didn't stay very long in Asgard.

He turns at that, and gestures.]

The Templar are our enemies back home, Alastair. The ones who wish to impose freedom through order and mindless obedience. We seek to keep free will where it is, even if there are consequences from what others choose.

[He pauses, turning back to Maria and finally delivering a look of "...that does not seem promising." Sorry, he has a hard time believing that due to a certain group of assholes called the Borgia.]

[Altaïr nods, appearing oddly agreeable.]

In my time, we used to believe them simply an Order that took up arms for the Lionheart's Crusade, but I learned differently. Which is why when I traveled to Jerusalem to kill their Grandmaster and found a woman disguised as him, we tried very hard to kill each other.

[There's a faint look of something like fondness in his expression. It isn't that he's recalling a good memory, exactly, but perhaps one that is less disagreeable than it should be. He nods at Maria to continue; after all, it is as much her story as his, perhaps more so.]

And one of us very nearly succeeded.

[There's a certain degree of fondness to her expression too.]

But it turns out that my husband's capacity for mercy is considerably greater than mine. I would have been perfectly happy at the time to cut him down where he stood, but he spared me my neck so that our paths could cross again, and they did. He went on to take the life of my former master and take command of Masyaf, and I found myself out of favour with the new Grandmaster and struggling to find passage to Cyprus when our paths crossed again.

[She turns to Altaïr with a small ghost of a smirk on her face.]

And then I believe I kicked you down a ladder at some point trying to escape from you.

I was distracted by pirates at the time and you took advantage. And after I was charitable enough to cut your hands free.

[It occurs to him they may be giving Ezio and Alastair the wrong impression.]

We'd caught wind of suspicious activity on Cyprus, and I traveled there myself to learn what the Templars were up to there. I thought she might serve as bair or a source of information, so I brought her with me. Not exactly willingly.

[Of course, even then there had been more. But he's not about to go into detail on the first stirrings of attraction he'd felt for the Templar woman who'd practically been spitting on him.]

I saw signs that she might be able to look beyond the false peace that her so-called brothers would force upon the people, and thought that our goals might align.

As they did. Eventually.

[After numerous escapes and nearly as many times that she'd simply run off without him.]

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