Angry Wikipedia Editor Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pushesgently) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
asgardmeridiem2014-02-03 09:07 pm
pushesgently) wrote in asgardmeridiem2014-02-03 09:07 pm
Entry tags:
A man, a plan, Asgard [OPEN]
Who: Altaïr and you
What: As the Assassins deal with their collective recent emotional traumas,
When: Day 398
Where: All over the city—you choose!
[It's been a rough few weeks for the Assassins. Desmond and Connor's deaths, Caterina's disappearance from Asgard, the pressures of simply holding the brotherhood together. Add to this the troubles every Traveler in Asgard faces and they've had better days. But Altaïr has had worse. Some might complain of boredom, but under the circumstances, he's glad to have an utterly normal day, if a busy one.
As he makes his way around the city, he's dressed in quite normal modern clothing rather than his traditional robes, but there are still a number of knives tucked away where they can't be seen.
making deliveries; The courier service offered by A Needle in a Haystack isn't his favorite task, but he strives to lead by example. Also, no one else wanted to do it today. If you've ordered an item or other deliverable product from the shop, he'll be there with a reasonably pleasant expression, though not necessarily a smile. Pay up.
free running; Between deliveries, he can be found up on the roofs, making his way to and from the shop and occasionally taking a leap of faith down. He's in a hurry, so he'll be more difficult to spot than usual, but look up at you might see him.
shopping; During his lunch break (which probably comes around 3:00 or so), he goes on an errand to pick things up. Flowers for Maria (because Caterina's departure has reminded him not to take some things for granted), some new books for himself (because he's secretly a huge nerd) and anything else on his list that the shop doesn't already carry.
a needle in a haystack; Early in the evening, he returns to the shop, where he mans the main counter, sharpening his knife (knives) between customers.]
What: As the Assassins deal with their collective recent emotional traumas,
When: Day 398
Where: All over the city—you choose!
[It's been a rough few weeks for the Assassins. Desmond and Connor's deaths, Caterina's disappearance from Asgard, the pressures of simply holding the brotherhood together. Add to this the troubles every Traveler in Asgard faces and they've had better days. But Altaïr has had worse. Some might complain of boredom, but under the circumstances, he's glad to have an utterly normal day, if a busy one.
As he makes his way around the city, he's dressed in quite normal modern clothing rather than his traditional robes, but there are still a number of knives tucked away where they can't be seen.
making deliveries; The courier service offered by A Needle in a Haystack isn't his favorite task, but he strives to lead by example. Also, no one else wanted to do it today. If you've ordered an item or other deliverable product from the shop, he'll be there with a reasonably pleasant expression, though not necessarily a smile. Pay up.
free running; Between deliveries, he can be found up on the roofs, making his way to and from the shop and occasionally taking a leap of faith down. He's in a hurry, so he'll be more difficult to spot than usual, but look up at you might see him.
shopping; During his lunch break (which probably comes around 3:00 or so), he goes on an errand to pick things up. Flowers for Maria (because Caterina's departure has reminded him not to take some things for granted), some new books for himself (because he's secretly a huge nerd) and anything else on his list that the shop doesn't already carry.
a needle in a haystack; Early in the evening, he returns to the shop, where he mans the main counter, sharpening his knife (knives) between customers.]
no subject
[ Another glance at Altaïr, and for that he doesn't quite know why. Not knowing certain aspects of his ancestors' lives is its own, private relief. Easier to compartmentalize, to keep memories separate from his as they were filled in from an outside source instead of reliving them. There, one last swipe at his shoe (he's going to smell like church forever now), and Desmond stands, tossing the rag in the box too. ]
no subject
[Grump, grump. As much as hearing about Peter Hallaton and Maria's time as his wife doesn't thrill him, Altaïr can't deny that he is living the more fortunate outcome by far.]
To be honest, if I ever met the man, I would have to thank him profusely for being foolish enough to fail to make her happy.
no subject
Here's a sharp look.]
Do I not get to take credit for ensuring my own happiness or does it all come down to you?
no subject
I should say so, habeebti. You chose to go where you might find it, and we're all the better for that.
no subject
no subject
[ Clapping a hand on your shoulder, Grandpa. Then, to Maria, ]
Fuck 'em. They sound like assholes.
no subject
That would be a true tragedy.
no subject
[Though she can't quite extend the same vehemence towards her parents. She can dislike them, certainly, but she wouldn't wish harm upon them.
But she looks at Altaïr, and then Desmond, and smiles to herself.]
I suppose my likeness must grow fainter after Darim if you've turned out looking so strongly like Altaïr.
no subject
I mean. Uh.
[ The enormity of that simple comment catches up to him only a second later. Fuck. Great work, Miles. ]
no subject
[Altaïr snaps to attention immediately, the unfamiliar name and Desmond's awkward manner combining to indicate quite clearly that their grandson knows something they don't.
It can only be one thing, he realizes even before Desmond can say anything, and a small smile starts to creep across his face.]
no subject
Sef? What are you talking about?
[And then it clicks as she starts to smile.]
Are- are you saying we're to have a Sef?
no subject
I- yeah. After Darim, you'll have another son, Sef.
[ And then, because this is Desmond, he adds, with a bit of jazz handsing, ]
Surprise?
no subject
Maria steps back to find Altaïr's hand, threading her fingers through his and squeezing.]
When? How soon after Darim will we have him? What's he like?
[Suddenly, she has some small idea of how it must have felt for Altaïr learning of Darim. She turns to look at him, smiling like a loon, then back to Desmond.]
So he looks like Altaïr?
no subject
[Altaïr grins at Desmond and squeezes Maria's hand back, but waves his other hand in a half-hearted attempt to slow her down.]
Patience, my love. It's not necessary to leave nothing of our future unknown, and you can hardly expect him to know all the details.
[Actually...his expression turns slightly quizzical then, because how does Desmond know this? He still isn't entirely clear on how the Animus machine functions, but he hadn't thought it would show their descendant their whole family.]
no subject
It's...complicated. That's really all I can say about it.
no subject
It matters little, I suppose we will find out in due course.
[But she can't keep the grin from her face regardless.]
Another baby... oh goodness I wonder what Darim will make of it all.
no subject
[A touch of sadness colors Altaïr's expression at that. He still knows so little about either of their sons—but this is not a moment for sadness. Someday, eventually, he'll be the father to two little boys.
He can't wait.]
At least we can both be surprised now.
Thank you, Desmond.