The Idiot's Guide to Being Kidnapped
Vivian's original optimism about their journey was flushed down the toilet when Malik informed them that Amil had told him Giza was a two day journey from the village so that sent the trio downstream to the north. . .again. This time, Altaїr had been adamant about landing at the exact coordinates and commandeered the rowing with direct orders every five seconds. By the time they reached shore, Vivian had become conditioned to following his blunt orders but a few shakes of the head and a friendly whack from Malik to the temporal lobe threw out the brainwashing technique right out of her ears. Altaïr had decided to transform into a brooding turtle as he carried their canoe over his head as they treaded westward.
Altaïr wasn't in the best of moods after having a building explode behind him and running off into the darkness to hide like a cowardly Templar. Speaking of the metal devils, he gained no new information from them! Also, walking through a humid forested area didn't help him unwind since his travel schedule would be pushed back by almost a day. He was an unrelenting walking machine as he carried the canoe all on his own while keeping the lead despite Vivian offered to help. She was eager to lend a hand just to see his hidden rage simmer a bit and even missed his sarcastic wit as he bathed them all with the silent treatment. Of course, he used the reason that she lacked upper body strength to refuse her help and carried on with his new life as a turtle. She'd stuck around Malik at the front so they wouldn't worsen Altaїr's terrible mood and recited Tolkien's first book of the Lord of the Rings.
She had reached the part where the ill-omened Balrog awakened within Khazad-dûm and had shaped her hands into claws to mimic the dangerous beast as Malik stared with enthralled amusement. The history student could be quite the storyteller on the road and despite her reciting words weren't exactly knowledge, they were interesting nonetheless. Altaїr chose this time to interrupt her tale with a flat tone from behind, "Put Dumbledore Skywalker's tale aside-"
"Those are two different tales entirely, Altaїr" she stated sharply to his offense because they were two important tales of her generation and wondered if he'd said it just to spite her. He'd cried blasphemy and witchcraft to Rowling's story, breaking the wooden stick she'd made to imitate a wand and had asked nonstop questions throughout the Phantom Menace. By the end of it all, Altaїr was the phantom menace. She turned around to walk backwards carefully, matching his pace and wagged a reprimanding finger to reiterate her previous campfire tales, "Harry Potter and Star Wars are totally separate tales. One about magic and another about the heavens-"
"I don't care about your tales, I'm living my own nightmare" he interjected tightly with a brusque tone because stories were the last thing on his mind at the moment. He had an entire order depending on him after leaving within months of his new rank as grand master and he would not fail. There were too many people, assassin and civilians, relying on his two years long (estimated) expedition and that heavy weight on his shoulders mattered more than her fictional tales, prompting him to shoot out his next order on the agenda, "We're resting at the nearest stream we find. I need to wash clothes so Vivian-"
"I know, have your salty scrub soap and cleaning brush ready" she mumbled listlessly since she practically carried everything but his clothes in her pack. His required items on a daily basis had already stamped a mental list in her mind and she'd known that after yesterday night's scuffle, they all needed to wash clothes. She was pretty much the unofficial pack mule of the group but didn't mind bearing the weight (it built stamina and muscles), except when Altaïr decided to exploit it for egotistical benefits. He grunted his halfhearted answer, not caring to acknowledge her monotonous reading of his required materials but he'd throw a fit if she didn't listen.
When they arrived at a steady flowing stream flowing west, Altaïr was more than happy to set their canoe down on the ground and almost praised the sky for seeing its calm blue hue. How people thrived happily in underground cities like Cappadocia was beyond him. He didn't know how nocturnal animals lived without seeing such a beautiful horizon every day as the sky displayed a variety of intricately stunning colors throughout its twenty-four hour period. Altaïr took a deep breath of fresh air as he'd practically felt like a living clam for the last hours but he'd only trust the canoe to himself. However, when he stood back up to fetch his materials from Vivian, he found a conundrum with his arms as they had fallen asleep pointing skyward.
Oh, how he hated seafaring transportation and its liquid treacherous mistress of doom. Frowning to his frozen muscles, he sighed glumly under his breath to ask his companions with a flat expression, "Um. . .could I kindly receive some help?"
Malik and Vivian stifled their laughter at seeing his arms stuck in the air and dropped their packs as they approached to help the scowling assassin. Vivian was ready to joke his arm felt like dry beef being twisted or sing a YMCA parody but kept it to herself since she had hold of his left arm and he wouldn't hesitate to maim her with his hidden blade and call it an accident. She massaged his arm gently from the shoulder join to the elbow in order to get his circulation running again, ignoring his hisses towards her as she created bothersome Charlie horses. Shaking her head, she muttered quietly about his stubborn nature on playing leader, "You could've let me help to ward this off."
She swore he growled at her with sharp jagged teeth fit for a starving panther and she backed away immediately like a meek mouse to seek shelter behind Malik. Jeez, you mention a little kind advice from the heart and he turns lethal- or maybe it was just her personality that brought his worst traits to surface. The dai paid no attention to the cowering woman behind him and merely pointed to Altaïr's leather pack lying on the dirt and stated firmly, "Go tend to your washing."
Altaïr grumbled under his breath for being reprimanded by Malik of all people because he'd expected a member of his order to aim a well-rounded kick to Vivian's rear end. He wanted to be inside of Giza and on track with his plans, not wandering another humid forest where he was swatting mosquitoes that wanted to feast on his blood. He received enough of that in every Templar encounter. Stomping over to his pack to emphasize that he wasn't pleased with their current situation, he ripped it open to pull out the dirty outer layers of his robes from yesterday which needed a wash after his recent scuffle.
Vivian and Malik were glad for the rest since they'd been trekking nonstop since sunrise and their canteens were fresh out of water, their throats parched for any cold drops of liquid that they could find. At this point in her new life, Vivian didn't mind refilling her canteen at open water sources because dehydration was not worth the risk but if she accidentally gained parasites. . .well, time would tell. Quite frankly, everything in the Middle Ages could just about kill you: a wildlife bite, poisonous insects (and arachnids), old water, undercooked food, spoiling food, the common cold, and even a daily stroll could have one robbed and killed. Vivian ripped off her leather shoes to throw them onto the nearest rock to let her toes wiggle in the air with unrestrained freedom, relishing the fresh air flowing between them in delicate strokes. Malik yawned to relieve some of the fatigue from the journey as he drank from his newly filled canteen, chuckling aloud when he closed the cork to say, "You're rather a free spirit, aren't you?"
Altaïr made a guttural sound in his throat from his end as he began to soak his dirty clothes in the water and Vivian chucked the round yellow ball of soap at his head. Of course with her awful aim, it struck him on the back of his left shoulder and he uttered a harsh complaint for her careless throw but grasped it with his lighting reflexes before it fell into the water. With a growl settling in his throat, he returned to his meticulous washing and ignored everything around him since her little jokes grated his ears like rusty metal against rocks. Vivian merely chuckled to seeing him work like an average man as he rubbed the soap over the dark stains, scrubbing the cloth against a flat rock to loosen the stubborn dirt. If he ever left the assassins, he'd be a pretty good clothes washing man in a town.
Since Altaïr was no longer listening to them or uttering his manly grunts, she answered Malik with a bright smile, "No, I'm quite normal for my time. . . .at least I hope so. The free spirit types are more artistic, I believe, I'm more of a scholar- choosing to learn about the written word to enlighten society about historical facts. Social norms have changed drastically in my time which is why I appear outlandish and brash to those here but I certainly don't mean any harm, I've simply become too accustomed to my old life. Since this is my new chapter in life, I'll try my best to only piss off Templars."
"Good girl" Malik chuckled to her playful joke and leaned back against a shady acacia tree to relax for a moment, slumping comfortably to give his legs a decent rest. He wasn't certain where the next inn would be since their destination was still two days away and he hoped their next target after Giza would not take longer, seeing as they had to reach the southern coast of the continent as their half point. Oh, why didn't he bring more books along?
Vivian took this time to clean her faithful pair of brown socks, grinning impishly at Altaïr to preen cheekily, "Do you still use the comfy socks I made?"
A manly mutter of 'yes' sufficed as he scrubbed his white shirt with a rough bristle brush to remove the persistent stains, frowning when they didn't budge and produced little gray foam in result. How infuriating! He would not stand for stains of any kind and was tempted to change the order's garbs color entirely just to prevent the arduous job of stain removal. Vivian caught his frantic scrubbing as his teeth gritted in annoyance, her lips twisting into an amused smile to see him toiling over something so trivial and joked wittily, "Will the grand master be bested by a mere pesky stain?"
"I'd like to see you do better" he challenged snippily to protect his pride as she poked it with a sharp imaginary finger every time she aimed that teasing white smile in his direction. Her futuristic life probably deemed his work as futile but he wasn't going to forgo his dignity because this was his era and he worked as hard as anybody else to achieve his goals. She unnerved him sometimes with her origins and he defended himself by confronting her because her lifestyle was deemed fit to live alongside the mysterious people who had created the items of Eden. Although she'd claimed otherwise, he knew that both cultures far exceeded his in advancements but that didn't mean he'd fall to his knees to spout compliments about their superiority. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was not weak and refused to bow down to anyone, no matter how advanced they were.
"If I had my modern cleaning products, I'd beat you within thirty minutes of a good presoak and bleaching" Vivian replied smartly to return the jab as she cleaned her socks in a wooden bowl to lower the contamination in the stream for future visitors. Altaïr simply used his hands to cup water since he'd been too hasty begin washing that he'd forgotten to ask for their only bowl and wasn't about to in order to prove he was superior. It was petty, yes, but he really didn't want to ask her for anything unless it meant unraveling the secrets of the apple of Eden.
He snorted to her comeback since he knew nothing of her fancy language, her articulate words in his tongue breaking loose for a moment to give way to her true dialect. Her voice carried no accent to the similar words uttered by the English but she'd divulged pieces of her nation's history as the country tied into their formation. He was torn about either not caring in the slightest about her time or accepting the new knowledge that nobody else in his time had been granted; it was hard for the stoic Altaïr sometimes. Using his yellow soap to dab a coat of it over a gray stain on the left side of the cloth, he scoffed under his breath and replied haughtily without glancing at her, "You're delusional if you believe you can win, this is my world."
"I see your wit for challenges hasn't left" she sighed with feigned disappointment since all of their conversations always ended in debate, their tongues taking the position of polished swords as each fought to gain the upper hand. She wasn't the type to endlessly exchange challenges as she sought consensus to maintain peace- otherwise, she would've chosen a law or political career. Rinsing her sudsy socks in a bowl of clean water, she took the moment to glance at him and advised gently with a hint of playful humor, "You must maintain a calmer head, Altaïr, and I shall help you find the Jedi way to-"
He splashed her face with cold water in rebuttal and she blinked her eyes to clear them of their sudden blurriness, spitting out water to growl heatedly, "I didn't even get to say-"
Splash.
"The light side-"
Splash.
"Of the Force!" she finished indignantly with a low growl as her face was completely soaked and she wiped it dry with the back of her hand, containing her irritancy with a muffled growl in her throat. This wasn't what she'd had in mind to refreshing her skin. Cold droplets dripped down her sweaty neck, cooling the hot skin under her neckline as they managed to escape being swept away by her hand. The grand master simply kept washing his clothes without uttering a single word as she kept a scathing glare pinned onto his form but since she lacked the power of spontaneously setting people on fire, she finally hissed irately, "Ugh, I should've been blasted to the Old Republic."
"I've no idea what that is. . .but I do too" Altaïr grumbled sardonically to his luck in life as he'd been unwillingly saddled with the singing catastrophe and this time, she hurled a wet sock at his face. The dripping fabric struck his right cheek, sticking onto his smooth skin as his eyes widened to her daring action. She pretended as if nothing happened but Malik kept a careful watch on them as a farmer would a baby chick and a cat, almost tempted to shake his head when he saw Altaïr's eyes narrow into slits.
She scrubbed her remaining sock on a flat rock, ignoring the man spouting imaginary flames from his flared nostrils, and pointed out nonchalantly, "You're not a very cheerful man, are you? I understand it's due to your lifestyle but you have an entirely new horizon at your fingertips now that you're grand master. I'm certain the assassins don't want a new reign of terror-"
Altaïr found offense to that immediately since he failed to resemble a Templar in any way and interrupted sharply to defend his order, "Al Mualim didn't rule with terror. How dare you-"
Malik sighed under his breath from his seat under the comfy acacia tree as he could already foresee the next argument just as Vivian shot back firmly, "I don't care about Al Mualim, this about you. I understand you carry a great amount of responsibility but it doesn't give you the right to talk to me like there's a stick shoved in your ass-"
"Go wash your insolent mouth before I do it for you" he ordered coldly to silence her with a clear threat because her crude language infuriated him when directed towards him. Yes, he was being hypocritical when he insulted her psychologically with words but he'd yet to use vulgarity with her and displayed his yellow soap in insinuation. He wasn't afraid of washing out her mouth and had done so to a few recruits of the order who had become arrogant in their teachings when they believed themselves to be superior to experienced assassins.
"No, I have the freedom to speak and I've grown rather tired of your sass" she snapped firmly to show she wouldn't be walked over by a man of archaic times as she wrung her sock free of water. The cold water running down her wrists didn't simmer her irritation as she slapped the sock against the flat rock to squeeze out any last tiny drops before leaving it to dry in the sun. Smoothing it over the rock with a firm hand holding its annoyance restrained, she pointed out sharply with disbelief in her voice, "I'm not in complete awe of you and I should be, I should be licking your boots of awesomeness at this point! I've put my life on the line and you constantly dig my face into the dirt like a pest. You're," she frowned and murmured simply, "kind of a jerk."
The words felt oddly strange yet liberating leaving her mouth since he'd always held the awesomeness trophy in the gaming realm, pushing back both Ezio and Commander Shepard (and a few others). His image had been deflating for a while since their expedition began and for a moment, led herself to believe that her first fight in the remote village would improve his view of her to show she wasn't useless. Of course, that had been blown clear out of the water with dynamite when he mocked her slowness at fixing her tent (comparing it to an old turtle) since her muscles were sore from the scuffle. Had it really been her fault that she was inexperienced in battle? Altaïr, however, was incensed to her insulting words about him and snarled acidly, "You do not get to speak to me like that, you insignificant woman-"
"A smart independent woman-" she corrected firmly to his personal opinion of her specifically, lacking any hesitation to be curt because he needed a good verbal thrashing.
Altaïr scoffed derisively to her arrogant claim because she was the most hardheaded woman he'd met and was thankful he hadn't been flung to her sordid realm instead. Apparently, mannerisms towards elders or superiors failed to be implemented in the banshee but he'd put her in her place when he hissed dangerously with narrowed eyes, "If you were smart, you'd know not to be cross with me."
"I'm not a child" she retorted between gritted teeth when his tone carried a chauvinistic edge and whether it was held out of general dislike or being an outspoken woman, it didn't matter. Her green eyes narrowed into slits when he muttered 'you fooled me' under his breath and she murmured with her own mocking tone, "Argh, I wish this stream was deep enough to drown you in."
Malik's eyes resembled a flying ping-pong ball as he observed both but knew Altaïr reached his boiling point when he threw the scrubbing brush onto the dirt with a frustrated growl.
"What kind of mother lets her daughter walk around with such a disrespectful mouth?" he demanded frigidly to open her eyes to the errors and selfishness of her futuristic ways. An assassin always kept a close vigilance and scrupulous investigation on a target and Vivian had received no less since the day she'd entered his life. His words struck the marker in Vivian's heart dead on target as he found her weakness, showing no remorse as he bit into her like a vicious cobra to a feeble mouse, "I do not see you living in this century for more than one hour without my help. Your behavior is outrageously shameful, especially when I'm the one keeping you safe."
Her cheeks flushed with mortification, her rampant emotions whirling between anger and guilt to his words because he was exactly right on the protection aspect. He didn't like her and despite her many attempts, maybe they were meant to simply tolerate each other as best. So much for the 'friend to the cool assassin' status she'd been hoping for like all AC fans of Altaïr. Vivian could only utter apologetic 'I's repeatedly as she tried to come up with a decent answer and he raised his chin to point out in condemning disdain, "Let me guess, the humility of apologizing wasn't taught to you either."
"You don't get to talk to me that way" she fought back hoarsely as her voice shook to his cold words, finding herself in unknown territory in this new form of arguing. Who was he to pass righteous judgment on her as if he knew her inside and out? Usually, they squabbled over little things to rile one another as they matched wits but never attacked each other personally. Gone was the light furrow of his brow and the dismissive tsk's from his lips, replaced by a full-blown expression of rage which quickly reminded her that this man was not the same one from her beloved game but one that could end her life if spoken to in the wrong manner. After all, women didn't mean much in the ancient times and Vivian pretty much qualified as one. It crushed her bubbly spirit to be seen so insignificantly by one that she was trying earnestly to help.
"Of course I do, without me, you are alone here" he spat matter-of-factly to her unique predicament since he held her lifeline, not the other way around, and she needed to embed that through her stubborn head. It was his constant vigilance and patience that allowed her to keep tagging along rather than leaving her stranded on the dirt road like a helpless newborn puppy with its eyes closed. At least the puppy would provide decent company and wouldn't turn its yips into 'Vivian nagging' as he called it. It was time to set his foot down as the alpha male of the group and receive the respect he deserved, dealing the final blow in their verbal duel by stating frankly, "You have nobody to protect you so learn to obey instead of being a selfish brat that still clings to her mother's bosom. Is that why you write to her in that diary of yours?"
Malik jumped up from his spot to step into the fray immediately as his friend kept digging his own grave in her field of trust and frightening their companion was not in their best interests. Fear and distrust had no place within a fellowship, it had the tendency to fester the integrity of a group, leading him to snap with a stern tone that Vivian had never heard before, "Altaïr, halt your tongue!"
The words came too late as the damage was dealt and Vivian's eyes widened, the green hue brightening with stunned shock to his accusation. How had he gone through her things without her notice? When? She couldn't believe he'd done such an audacious act behind her back, betrayal rearing its ugly head for the first time and Vivian stammered in disbelief, "You. . .you went through my. . .my personal things? W-Why would-"
"Do you really think I'm going to trust you out of my own goodwill? No, I kept careful track of you by being extremely vigilant" he interjected coldly without guilt or remorse for what had been done because any outsider of the order, especially one claiming to be a foreigner, would be subjected to it. The fact that Vivian unsettled him with her origins (which he was incredibly stubborn to believe despite her journal) also brought on further scrutiny from the assassin.
"Altaïr! What part of 'silence' do you not understand?" Malik practically exploded to reprimand the man since his mouth kept running like a dog without its master's leash. He was tempted to smother him with his own pack to silence his harsh words but that would've exacerbated the situation and he needed to break the tension. His friend definitely needed a few lessons on self-constraint when it came to Vivian.
He read my most personal entries and I wouldn't have dared to do the same out of respect for him, she thought forlornly for being so gullible to trust him and felt more exposed than she ever had in her life as he knew all of her private secrets. It was wrong on so many levels! Her clenched fists rose to strike him but they faltered as she caved in at the last second, knowing that she'd barely dent the man and it would give him a reason to deal worse damage. Her eyes watered to the cold words dealt to her, the subject of her mother being the most vulnerable part in her heart. Her mind instinctively sought protection away from him to hide the sour truth and without another word, bolted from the stream to run into the forest surrounding them.
"Genius, Vivian, running into the forest without your pack" he snorted exasperatedly with a shake of the head, making no move to follow after and resumed his clothes washing. The woman could pent out her rage in the forest; he didn't care because he knew she'd come back eventually since they were her tether to survival. A second later, he exclaimed in shocked rage when he spotted Malik throwing his clean white robes into the stream as the dai whistled a nonchalant tune to catch his attention. He'd been playing mediator throughout the argument as Altaïr originally expected him to play the sympathetic party to Vivian but the assassin received a silent retaliation. Malik knew how stubborn his friend could be with the woman but he'd taken it a little too far, digging himself into a figurative grave in Malik's conscience. He received a tad of gratification when his friend shouted in outrage to his wet clothes flowing downstream, "Malik!"
"Did you suddenly forget why you went on a quest to regain your master rank?" the dai asked calmly despite the maelstrom of emotions raging around him in the aftermath. Vivian had run off to calm down, most likely, while Altaïr blocked his rage by furiously washing his clothes. Honestly, he was the father figure out of the three and had to force the two to make up for the sake of the mission (and his own sanity). Dropping Altaïr's empty pack on the ground with a soft thud, he pointed an accusatory finger and stated sharply, "You are allowing your initial mistrust grow into something deeper and must stop it before it corrupts you. She is not Al Mualim and will not turn on you with a blade the second your back is turned. You, however, probably shattered what trust she had in you. I suggest you find her before thieves wandering the roads do and you will apologize like the honorable man I know you are."
Altaïr wanted to argue until becoming mute but knew that Vivian would keep running just to spite him, she could be dramatic sometimes to push a point across. Of course, it could just be her strange upbringing. The woman irked him due to the unwanted skill of automatically assuming she knew what was best from her knowledge of him. This was his world and he would make decisions that benefited all of mankind and his order above all else, even his own personal wants. Her main task was to find her answers and return home, a goal that benefitted him only for the secrets she knew. All she needed to do was answer his questions and keep silent about everything else. Otherwise, he would have left her in the care of his order within a privately safe quarter at Masyaf.
"This woman will turn my hair gray" he muttered under his breath for the insane things he'd done since meeting her because he certainly wouldn't be climbing trees for her. He'd drawn the line at climbing the same building three times like he'd done at Cairo and that was out of kind goodwill for the blushing woman whose robes had been torn open. Malik shook his head in dismay when he heard Altaïr's echoing grumbles within the forest and hoped his hotheadedness would fade by the time he found Vivian. Fetching Vivian's walking stick, he entered the cool water of the stream with his bare feet to fish out the discarded clothes before they wandered too far downstream.
Vivian ran in the direction of the clear road because becoming lost in the endless forest by running like a headless idiot was not ideal and found herself surprised at her running capability. Weeks ago, she couldn't walk for miles without rest or aching legs but her time among the assassins had slowly changed that. She'd never been one to hike, continuously stuck to her laptop or spending time in the university's library for intellectual growth, so her new life had dramatically transformed that aspect. It didn't take her very long to find the open road since the stream was visible from the distance and she decided to take a stroll in the direction of the city.
She needed to clear her distressed mind from Altaïr's awful betrayal of her privacy but he was regrettably correct about being her lifeline; that, she admitted. Her mind was blank on how life was on a daily basis in the 1190s and despite she tried her best to learn, an entire culture couldn't blend into her personality within weeks. It was impossible! Hopefully, whatever force had transported her to Jerusalem could remove her from the dangerous era sooner rather than later because she longed for home and each of her family members. There wasn't a day she didn't think of them, remembering her sister's last words in the hallway before she'd bonked herself on the head. The nights were even lonelier as she'd spent time watching horror or comedy movies with Natalya for sisterly bonding, wishing she knew how her family was doing more than anything. It made today an extra excruciating day for her to bear as she realized she was the only soul from her time existing in the entire world and had no inkling of where her own ancestors might be for a small sense of familiarity.
She walked onwards to place a little space between herself and the dangerous white eagle stalking the forest because she was liable to try to beat his face in with the current rage flowing through her bloodstream. Vivian wasn't one who was prone to violence towards another but the man had definitely tested her patience today. She'd stayed her hand from striking his ruggedly handsome face for the sole reason that he'd kept her safe since leaving Masyaf and despite the hurt he'd instilled, she respected his pledge. As she walked, she kept a careful eye out for snakes and other dangerous critters hiding within nearby bushes (even on the road) because a bite in the middle of nowhere would only lead to death. The lack of nearby doctors or advanced medicine frightened her on a daily basis but she'd pushed the thought to the back of her mind for sanity's sake. Unfortunately, Vivian's life would fall into the hands of a creature most cunning: her own species. Her walk on the empty road wasn't long underway when she met the floor, literally.
The flustered woman had failed to see a hidden trip rope horizontally placed between two trees to purposely cause a stumble. She struck the floor with a surprised undignified yelp as her arms took most of the damage in an attempt to protect her head. Her senses to the surrounding environment were slowly developing but anybody could feel a tripping tug so she knew that it wasn't an accident and definitely wasn't alone on the road. Before she could stand up, two rough sets of hands seized her arms and incapacitated the woman immediately by pulling them behind her back. Her feet kicked furiously at the dirt in an effort to throw them off but she was outnumbered by weight, seeing nobody in front of her but heard unknown voices from behind, "Steal whatever valuables she has."
Just what she needed: a band of ruthless selfish thieves rather than murderous coldblooded Templars. Fate really wanted to sour her day today with a never-ending marathon, didn't it? When they patted the back of her robes to find anything of worth, she became a wriggling eel as she tried to turn around to beat their heads in for breaching her personal boundaries. Her wish was granted as she was pulled upright on her feet forcefully and she faced four strangers in brown linen clothes (long-sleeved tunics and breeches) that served to camouflage them, their lower faces obscured by cloth. 'Middle aged ninjas'; she dubbed them immediately for their getups. Her lingering anger towards Altaïr was quickly projected onto them as the newest target, not that they didn't deserved it. She hissed with disdain for the lowlifes when the one behind her twisted her left arm painfully and she demanded harshly with a scowl, "What do you want? Who are you?"
"Your valuables" the leader declared roughly, his dark eyes appearing further deep set in his skull behind the cloth and hood over his face. Her own livid eyes of emerald narrowed as he observed her frazzled appearance, surprised to seeing a petite woman with a pale complexion traveling alone south. The sun had bronzed her cheeks but she was definitely a stranger in the lands of Egypt and for thieves who smuggled all kinds of goods for trade, the woman could guarantee a decent price. Vivian could hear the smug grin in the man's voice, sending a sickening shiver down her spine to its malevolence, as he stated matter-of-factly, "A woman traveling the road alone, don't you know thieves inhabit all major roads?"
"Aren't you supposed to attack at night?" she shot back crossly with thinned lips to her current predicament, trying to figure out a route of escape since she was heavily outnumbered. Her previous argument left some of the fighting spirit within her but she had to act calculatedly rather than recklessly or she'd end up dead in a ditch somewhere. In the empty roads towards Giza, it would be a long time before anyone discovered the dead and most would pinpoint it to starvation or dehydration- unless she was hacked to bits. It was a morbid thought she didn't want to believe but life could be ruthless and she was more than qualified to fill the role of a victim.
One of the men sneered with frustration and announced to his leader, "She has nothing of worth."
"I have a good head on my shoulders, how's that?" she snapped tartly as she tried to keep them from moving her anywhere by means of worthless conversation, trying to wriggle free. Her outlook for escape didn't look good as their grip only tightened with each protest and her fighting skills would be defeated against all of them if she riled the thieves. She'd no idea if Altaïr was on her trail like a bloodhound so her survival depended solely on herself, leading her to grit out tightly, "Release me or you'll pay."
Not her best words but she had to try.
"On the contrary, you've been caught so you will give us something of worth" the leader stated coldly, unaffected by her threat and she bared her teeth to appear more aggressive than she really was. It worked against bears, right? Vivian uttered a sentence full of profanity as their reward but the men only laughed to her tenacity, her oval face contorting into rage when the man ordered bluntly, "She will come with us. We can sell her as a slave and while on the road, she can keep us. . .entertained."
Knowing that was ancient code for lecherous assholes with a death wish, she played as dead weight to delay their leave but that simply had her grasped by the feet. Shifting into the wriggling eel mode once more, she started kicking whoever came near her to keep them at bay and tried to head-butt the assailant restraining her arms. Her shoulder joints ached painfully as they were pulled against their natural direction but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing her pain, gritting her teeth to swallow it deep into her stomach. Obviously, four men against a tied Vivian (without her walking stick) meant that she was easily overpowered without her companions to back her up. Oh, how she yearned for that handy walking stick. This led Vivian to scream her head off like an old asylum patient, yelling both of her companions' names for the sake that they'd hear and hadn't ditched her already.
She was struck against the face for yelling by one of the men, causing pain to erupt over the skin of her left cheek as stinging lingered with its burrowing little bites. Oh, how she hated the treatment of women in this era and domestic violence in her own time by chauvinistic men. She retaliated by yelling further profanities to the men about cutting off their privates and the man behind her barked acidly, "Cease your screaming or we will kill you. Nobody is on the road to hear you, wench."
"Join the list, I already have an assassin and Templars hunting for my head" she yelled back in defiance since she'd expected to be nabbed by real enemies, not parasites of society, and began her kicking spree all over again. She laughed maniacally when two hits landed on the thieves but her right foot was grasped, immobilizing the limb from causing further damage. When she was led over to the tree line where concealment was evident, she didn't hesitate to scream bloody murder because she'd rather risk death than go off with strangers that would sell her to the highest bidder.
The thieves wouldn't stand for that and the last thing she remembered before her world blacked out was a horrendous pain to the base of her skull.
Altaïr followed her tracks as the woman left obvious footprints in the dirt, the earth imprinted with her small feet as the first were deep which told him immediately that she was frustrated. Eventually, they'd faded into softer prints in the dirt but the scene changed quickly when he noticed her tracks disappeared in the middle of nowhere. Kneeling down, he studied the earth with his keen vision and easily distinguished that it had been tampered by human hands. His first thought was that she'd gone off on her own but Vivian would have headed for civilization, which was straight down the road as her previous footprints showed. The woman definitely lacked finesse so there was no way that the little historian developed the ability to fly or jump into trees.
The last and most probable didn't sit well in his stomach: Kidnapping.
As an assassin, he'd been taught to be an experienced tracker and he surveyed the area for further clues that would lead him to the wayward woman. The road was smoothed out completely but a color of brown contrasting against the grass caught his attention and he approached the spot. His brow furrowed as he spotted a discarded piece of rope, very thin in comparison to working rope, and he followed it with his eyes to see it wrapped around the bottom trunk of a tree. It didn't take a genius from his century to realize that it was set as a trap and with Vivian walking the path alone, she had most likely fallen prey to it. The question now shifted to where she could be.
He looked to both areas of the forest surrounding the path, looking for any manmade disruption in the foliage and found it on his side. A few feet behind him, he could see cuts on the branches of several bushes and ran his fingertips over the broken branches to determine they were made by a knife due to the clean cuts. His gaze lowered to the ground and found broken twigs littering the area with imprints of several pairs of feet which told him that Vivian had been kidnapped by more than one person. He pressed his lips together, biting them behind his teeth in frustration to the situations she drew him into and decided to put a rope around her waist to keep her at arm's length.
Following the clear path, he thanked the kidnappers' inability to conceal the crime within the forest but his own senses were heightened in comparison to the average man. The woman was damn lucky to have an assassin trailing her and it wasn't long before he heard a loud ruckus in the near distance. He felt pity for innocent civilians that fell prey to this debauchery and hastened his pace, unsheathing his hidden blade to attack his enemy. Concealing himself behind a thick tree, he snuck a peek over the side to verify that Vivian was indeed there as she shouted at one to keep away while kicking another man in the kneecap. He identified five men in brown garbs surrounding the woman, her body sprawled over the floor in a feeble position but she was a fighter to the end. When one of men stepped on her left leg to cease her escape attempts and grasped the end of her skirt with obvious insinuation, her protesting scream triggered Altaïr into action.
He didn't hesitate using his crossbow to shoot two men behind the back where the heart dwelled as his footsteps were nonexistent over the dirt. Unlike them, he could hide his presence flawlessly in all environments and he had no mercy for men who defaced all the virtues of humankind. The remaining three sprang into action to fight the new intruder but their daggers were no match for a man with an entire arsenal strapped to his body, dodging each swipe of their blades efficiently. Vivian's mind had already been dealt psychological trauma since the kidnapping and although her heart wanted to help, her mind had shut down to disassociate everything. To the assassin, however, help wasn't necessary with simple robbers and he dispatched them into the face of death easily without suffering any injuries.
With the last man dead at his feet, Altaïr sheathed his weapon and stepped over the body to seek Vivian for any injuries. Men roaming lonely roads were brutish creatures that only sought to fulfill selfish needs and gratification to ensure their survival. They were the kind of people that fueled the Templars resolve to use the pieces of Eden to dominate mankind with an iron fist. Disposing of them would save innocent lives for the future and Altaïr would justify the killings with that.
"Vivian!" he called in attention, running to her fallen form as she huddled against the trunk of the tree to hide from any incoming attackers. Her left hand batted at the air instinctively to repel anyone as she buried her head into her other arm, an action he'd seen on many victims of sudden violence. Kneeling down, his fingers grasped her shoulders gently to coax her out from hiding but she flinched immediately from the sudden touch. Her body stiffened to the physical contact, a whimper muffled within her robes as she pressed herself against the tree for safety. It was a futile move but she needed to recognize him and he grasped her shaking left hand with his to speak softly with encouragement, "It's me, Vivian. Are you all right?"
Her green eyes focused as the color white was the purest of all, his chiseled face visible under his hood as he leaned over her. The scar on the right side of his lips brought back everything to surface and she gasped to the emotional overload, embracing him tightly as relief flooded her that he'd arrived to help. The entire ordeal had frozen her mind in fear to the severe predicament she'd fallen into when she'd been dragged into the forest, struck repeatedly for defying them but he'd saved her. Like a true hero. Relief was sweet indeed as she cried softly against his shoulder, releasing the maelstrom of emotions in a cathartic moment to free herself from the awful memories. She was eternally grateful for his aid because her strength had been no match against theirs and Vivian uttered a weak 'yes' from between her weeping. Her shaking lips were ready to offer an appreciative thank you as it was the least she could do but Altaïr screeched it to a halt the next second.
"Running off alone was a stupid mistake, do you see what happened?" he scolded the woman for her idiotic choice but that was all he would say on the matter as she dampened his robes with her tears. They wouldn't be flowing down his clothes like rivers if she'd listened and stayed put. Internally, his words were the release of a shotgun firing off into the image of respect and empathy that she'd had of him- completely shattering it into a thousand shards as he bit into the jugular of her emotions. Disappointed, she released him quietly to silence her weeps of relief and leaned back to sit in her original spot.
That soothing numbness returned to cover the feelings of shame and hurt coursing through her as the emotional shock was still raw in her system. She could only avert her gaze to the floor to block his scolding words as her spirit was drained completely to defend herself against his usual attitude. What could she do when he was correct? Vivian allowed herself to be guided back to the road by the arm, keeping the fear locked away in her subconscious but any breaking twig or twitter in the forest switched her body into its fight-or-flight response. The whole day had turned into a huge mess by her doing and knowing Altaïr was downright furious was the last kick needed to send her mind into protective mode. Her legs automatically followed the assassin's steps, taking no interest in the surrounding forest until she was safely on the road where she'd been abducted.
The dai awaited them there as he'd grabbed their bundle of clothes for later drying when both his companions didn't return, depositing them in the canoe as he'd tugged it with one hand down the road, nodding to them for their safe arrival. Vivian found a small piece of relief at being reunited with Malik, saying nothing when he demanded to know what happened from Altaïr. There was no hiding the red marks on her face and the dust covering her robes distinctly told him that something had occurred in the interior of the forest, whether by his friend's hand or somebody else's. Malik was calm tempered in most situations but when those he cared for, whether in the Order or not, he held a fierce protectiveness over their safety.
"She was almost taken away by bandits but they've been dealt with" he stated coolly about the previous predicament, an easy problem to overcome for a seasoned assassin, but he was a little irritated for having to save her from another scuffle. It really felt like babysitting an enraged badger sometimes but as long as she was alive and kicking with her witty voice, he would be satisfied. Yes, he'd picked the wrong words to say back at the river and it backfired horribly as a comeback win but she didn't have to run. Only cowards ran. They could've talked it out like mature adults without drawing in dangerous people but the miffed badger had to make her last stand. He wasn't going to deliberate on what occurred, mostly for Vivian's sake, he looked south of the road to order, "We should place distance between their remains and us so let us continue."
Malik gaped like a fish out of water to Altaïr's dismissal since he could clearly see there was something wrong in Vivian's demeanor. The cheerful woman was withdrawn, not to mention that she looked as if she'd been in the middle of a bar fight. As a friend, he was worried for the inexperienced traveler but she wringed her hands over her stomach and agreed softly, "We should. . .distance is safer."
He was hesitant to keep moving because he doubted Altaïr had checked the poor woman for wounds and asking would've scared her off, given the forming bruises on her cheeks. When Vivian quietly followed, he was forced to grudgingly silence his opinions and continue the trek but stuck close to her in case of anything. She didn't utter a word throughout the entire walk as they followed Altaïr and he found her lack of questions or jokes to lighten their traveling mood a little eerie since her demeanor was quite peppy. Vivian wasn't fond of dead silence as they traveled and looked for ways to entertain their minds to pass the time, whether by enchanting stories, quirky questions, or humorous songs. Of course, enduring whatever she had at the hands of criminals obviously put a heavy damper on her mood but he'd stay by her side in case she wanted to talk. During his stay at Masyaf, he counseled new recruits that needed someone to confide their troubles with and being a previous older brother helped Malik connect with them. His friend had swept in a different change for conducting their order and uniting all by means of friendly solidarity was one way in comparison to the old ways of stoic solitude.
Altaïr didn't mind the silence one bit as it allowed him to ponder about his mission, giving way for last minute improvements, and safely carried the annoying canoe over his head. He'd be a happy man if he never saw a turtle for the rest of his life; it would be an ironic mockery. He would do a thorough check on Vivian at their next stop since lecturing her during fear induced repression was not the best way to speak to a person. His social skills weren't on the friendliest of sides due to his upbringing but he was trying to change, one day at a time. He'd been raised to be direct and thorough with all people he met, friend or foe, so that didn't leave much room for leeway. He could speak to Malik like that as they'd grown up together, he was familiar to his stoic demeanor while Vivian wasn't and her personality clashed with his repeatedly.
As for Vivian, her mind was trying to repress everything that occurred to keep it locked away with all of the horrible memories she'd endured since arriving in their time period. Unfortunately, the good recollections were being overpowered by the larger chunk of the bad and that mental vault was already at the point of exploding. All of the violence, the road dangers, Templars, lack of medicine, low hygiene, poverty; too much filled the part of her mind called the recycle bin. She wanted to have a moment to herself, a small piece of privacy to cry out her frustrations to rid herself of what happened but Altaïr was determined to keep on track of his quest. He was their leader and his word was law so all she could do was follow and keep shoving every flashback into the dark recesses of her mind. She discarded her hopeful moment for peace to obey the man since he was not fond of her in the slightest and she. . .trusted him as a companion but not as an individual. Not anymore.
Their restful stop came an hour later at a small clearing with a shady acacia tree located in the center, a gentle breeze flowing underneath its canopy. Malik used this time to free his feet from his hot boots to stretch his tired limbs while Altaïr rid himself of the heavy canoe once more, placing it on the ground with a weary grunt. Vivian found herself a nice rounded boulder to sit on at a short distance to have a small moment of peace to escape her worries.
Malik stirred from his sitting position as it brought sweet relief to his legs and calmly asked, "Are you all right, Vivian?"
"What answer would you have me give?" she murmured softly as she blocked away everything, trying to summon a smile for her friend since he was the only one who didn't judge her. Her way of life didn't bother him and she treasured his ability to adapt to her little quirks as she tried to adjust to life in the Middle Age. There was a lot of baggage attached to the little doll named Vivian and it was growing to the size of a mountain to cause mental asphyxiation. Her fingers wringed together over her lap, betraying the frenzied anxiety brewing internally, as her posture slouched forward in her sitting position. A small sigh left her lips as she focused on a patch of grassless earth and murmured dejectedly to reply, "I don't think I've been all right since I first arrived here."
Altaïr drank from his water canteen to replenish his parched throat before reaching out to grasp her arm and check for hidden injuries. Her face was already turning the angry red bruises purple but Vivian recoiled from his touch immediately, scrambling away her seat to blurt nervously, "Don't touch me!"
"I need to see if you're injured-" he insisted firmly since he'd seen her leg stepped on by a grown man and knew that it had to be aching on an untrained civilian like her. He didn't need for her to play hero by handling the pain in silence and later regretting it when she couldn't move on their journey. He might as well carry a lame baby foal over his shoulders at that point!
"I'm fine" she insisted curtly because she didn't want the assassin near her vicinity unless there was mortal danger and even then, she'd stick to Malik. He might be team leader but she was in charge of her body and would tend to her own wounds when shelter was provided. Finding another spot to sit at, she left the two men alone on the clearing to tend to their own business as she plopped herself down on a mound of grass to cushion her sore tailbone. She opened her pack to find a leftover piece of bread wrapped in a navy cloth, finding her moment of tranquility as she nibbled on it underneath the warm sun.
Altaïr was ready to try again but Malik raised his hand to halt his plan, dissuading simply with a firm undertone in his voice, "Not right now."
So he let it be.
Their first night of camp within the forest (they weren't risking staying on the roads) was the most uncomfortable since their first days on the road and that retraced to when Vivian refused to believe she was lost in time. Malik hadn't realized how much he actually talked to Vivian about everyday things when she kept to herself at dinner and was left to make chitchat with Altaïr about the mission. It was. . .he died a little inside. Malik found peace in the night by speaking on topics a common man would partake in but his friend was intertwined with the objective of their order; there was no separating the assassin and the man. Altaïr enjoyed the calm brought by the starry night but knowing where it originated from was unnerving since Vivian blathered on without cessation. He took care of dinner that night by hunting down two wild hares while Vivian simply heated bread when he asked her to do so. He received no sassy remark or a peep from her as she obeyed without question, surprising him as he'd been ready to fire back an insult.
Immediately after dinner, Vivian refused to engage in upbeat conversation as she kept to herself to prevent more unsightly brawls with the assassin and announced quietly from her spot in front of the soothingly warm fire, "I'm going to sleep. Good night."
Malik nodded quietly as he would tread carefully around the shaken woman, hoping that she'd sleep away her nightmarish troubles in a blissful dream for one night. He'd been reading an enlightening chapter from his book on basic medicine, educating his mind while on the road for future practice as the days would be long during their journey. Without a medic on hand at all times, Malik would supply his knowledge for 'first aid' as Vivian called it and other irksome injuries that could be mended to prevent infection or worse damage. His pleasant nightly chats with Vivian were cancelled for today which led him to choosing the written word for comfort and agreed amicably with a sincere smile, "That would be best, Vivian. I am here if you need anything."
She managed a grateful smile to his offer as it was a small hand of comfort in the unknown lands of a world that wasn't hers, yet. . .ironically, it was. Time travel was a fickle entity. Her gaze lingered on watching the orange flames dance wildly in the fire, quickly remembering the socks she'd been washing in the morning and asked hesitantly, "The. . .I lost my socks, didn't I?"
"No, they're drying on the line" Altaїr answered simply as he poked the fire with a stick to renew the orange glow between the wood, glowing embers joining the flames in burning snow as he incensed the campfire. He preferred being cozily warm before heading to bed to sleep away his stresses in life and Vivian flinched to his voice, especially when the flames rose in addition to it, reminding her of a villainous scene from a movie. She retreated further into the shadows until she found refuge inside her tent, scurrying inside before anyone could utter another word.
She fixed the crumpled blankets with a quick hand to settle in for the night, the comforting light from the campfire filtering inside through the tent. Her hand brushed over her handy diary as it often became jumbled between the sheets during hasty clean up in the morning and she picked it up, opening it to peruse the private pages. It had been desecrated without her knowledge, revealing her innermost vulnerabilities in thought, and she resisted from tossing it outside into the open fire to prevent future humiliation. She'd worked hard on saving her coins to buy a decent journal and she'd put effort into her writing, learning how to use the tools of the era to write on the crisp thick paper. Due to the First Crusade, paper manufacturing in Damascus had become interrupted but she'd managed to feel the thinner paper between her fingers back at Masyaf while Egypt's paper was thicker, almost quilted. She liked the feel of the latter. Living in the 1190s was both a shock and dream for a historian in the making but at the moment, Vivian wished that whatever summoned her there should've picked another person entirely. Picking up her linen wrapped charcoal piece, she pressed it against the crisp paper and wrote in cursive writing,
Dear. . .I might as well put his name on this since he'll read it eventually,
I washed clothes in a river miles from Giza today. I'm getting better at whitening my clothes by leaving them in the sun to loosen stubborn stains and the gritty rock salt helps. I. . .Altaїr found the journal and confronted me, I couldn't believe he'd done such a heinous act. He said. . .many cruel words that I never thought I'd hear from him, not against. . .I ran like a frightened cat and was kidnapped. You and dad must be proud of this chicken brain- even I wanted to kick myself. You'd think I'd be smarter at this point in life after seeing too many clichéd teenage horror/suspense films but nope. Kidnapped, in the 12th century. . .that's a new one for me. I. . .I'm trying to keep my mind sane but so many things have happened and to relive it all, I can't. . .I. . .
She closed the book swiftly with a stern hand, throwing it aside as she hyperventilated to the horrible events of the day as a switch went off in her mind. So much had happened that would drive any normal person towards a breakdown, whether mental or emotional, and Vivian found herself teetering on the edge despite her fierce attempts to stop it. No sane person could adjust being blasted back into the dangerous past with a calm attitude and her logic for reasoning was slowly cracking at the seams. With a shaky hand on her forehead, she pulled back the warm blankets of her makeshift bed with the other and rolled inside without a care that she hadn't changed out of her current clothes. She needed warmth and security against her fears which only the safe haven of sleep could provide.
Outside, Malik placed a maroon ribbon on his current page as a bookmark and spoke quietly to prevent being overheard, "We need to keep an eye on her, Altaïr. Tread lightly in your manner of speaking, I believe she is rather upset with you-"
"I saved her, she should be praising me-" Altaïr grumbled matter-of-factly to his heroic act but remembered her relieved squeals when he'd found her. She'd broken down in his arms to weep openly and he grudgingly admitted to himself that his reluctance for sudden physical contact had instinctively caused him to reject her grasp. After he'd bluntly shared his opinion to quell her erratic behavior, her demeanor changed drastically and it didn't take long for him to put two and two together. Ugh, he absolutely hated when he was in the wrong and apparently, he'd ruined his chance to restore their old tug-of-war relationship. He poked the fire with his stick to pent out his sudden irritation for digging himself into a figurative hole with Vivian and flatly, he reluctantly stated with thinned lips, "She's upset with me, isn't she?"
"You're learning, this time I didn't have to point it out" Malik humored him with a small grin hitching at the left side of his lips since Altaïr wasn't overly fond of Vivian. Personally, he had no qualms with her as their conversations were easygoing, ranging from all topics as her friendly attitude kept him entertained rather than bored. She was slowly becoming his unofficial sister and with her lack of guidance in the world, he took her under his wing to educate her on the inner workings of their society. The grin slowly crossed over to the right side of his lips, his teeth glinting against the glow of the fire, and he feigned a sigh of disappointment before stating nonchalantly, "You have no skills with the fairer gender, my friend. Both of you need to find coexistence before we arrive in Giza tomorrow so start thinking about your apology. I'd start with the breach of privacy."
Altair grimaced visibly in distaste, his hood falling further lower over his face since he wasn't the best at apologies- even issuing one made him uncomfortable. However, he didn't want to see Vivian moping like a forlorn little sheep without its herd so he would start mending the emotional wounds tomorrow morning.
That languishing tiny sheep would turn into a vicious badger with a fierce bite under the eagle's dangerous talons once tomorrow arrived.
A/N: One of the longest chapters to write, long enough that the next part had to be transformed into another chapter but hilarity will ensue despite the little angst moment. Frankly, if a person was shot back into the past, they'd freak out to the humongous culture shock- especially if you're not Syrian born- so it was only a matter of time before Vivian had her first mental break. Thankfully, the helpful Malik is there and Altaïr will fix everything in his own way in the next chapter- by unwillingly locking Vivian in a room with him until they resolve the matter. After that, it'll be smooth witty sailing for the two as they nab the piece before heading to Sudan.
Diamond1502: No problem and if you have any more questions, feel free to ask.
Marli-chan Tuchanka: I know, I miss old Desmond's face too. Or it could just be that his new beard is fuzzy enough to change his facial structure, I don't really know.
Linda Chicana: Yep, Altaïr is the ultimate assassin and a ferocious eagle but he'll soften towards Vivian slowly like a glacier. I really liked him in revelations as in his old age, he stated that he wished he could've cast aside his role as an assassin decades ago but in his heroic youth, he believed he could save the world but turns out that evil will always arise. Fortunately, Ezio was able to retire the blade.
Foreverafter: I love Malik too, may he always be the mother bear between those two.
ShizukaRen-Hime: I'm glad I've done Altaïr justice since he's quite a stoic character in comparison to the wittily charming Ezio and benevolent Desmond but Vivian manages to crawl her way under his skin to pester him. I try to use humorous titles since the story's pretty much packed with humor most of the time- except in the end of this chapter.
NoOne: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed reading every part of it.
Lilinuuh: Thank you for loving the story, Vivian was created to please the masses with her eccentric humor. Wow, you stayed up pretty late to read it- I appreciate it heartily as I've done the same with other fics myself.
Next Time: Poking an Enraged Badger
Altaїr's amateur acting paid off for the first time and Malik really did get a tiny room (he was pretty sure it had been a cleaning closet once) but he only needed a bed to sleep since their plans would take place in Altaїr's room. However, Malik held doubts on his friend's ideas for reconciliation and didn't hesitate to voice it. He'd asked him whether it was a good idea to share a room with a woman who despised him at the moment but Altaїr was certain he'd turn everything around. . .or ruin it beyond repair. Either way, he was not quitting until he achieved his desirable outcome.
"Right now, she's a mad badger that's been starved and cornered- I plan to change that" Altaïr assured confidently as he fixed enough food for the night on a table facing their only window. He was already hungry enough to eat some of the dried meat but restrained himself until the Vivian problem was resolved. The robed assassin covered the food with cloths to keep it sanitary, ready for availability if his enraged badger turned ravenous and ordered carefully, "No matter what you hear, you must not allow the door to be opened."
With the plan underway and explained, he ordered Malik to lock the door from the outside to prevent a hasty escape from the woman and the dai hesitantly complied- he really hoped they wouldn't be kicked out for disturbing the peace. Hopefully, Vivian wouldn't be too enraged with him in her present condition but Malik truly believed they needed a breakthrough into friendship because tension would only hinder their journey. From inside the room, Altaïr set his weapons aside under the bed because a mad Vivian could not be trusted with sharp weapons in the open. Grabbing an orange-red apple from the platter, he bit into the sweet crispy fruit to replenish his energy.
Vivian has changed into her loose assassin pants, courtesy of her unexpected entrance in the realm, and a brown linen tunic that was rather large for her petite frame but beggars couldn't be choosers in ancient times. She was exhausted from the long journey and planned to lie in bed like an old hibernating bear, yawning into her right hand as she left a small nook in the wall that she dubbed the 'changing spot'. Being the only woman did give her a shred of self-consciousness when having to find a place to change. Noticing Altaïr fiddling in the far end of the room, she directed the cold shoulder towards him and headed for the door to see where Malik had gone. Usually, he was nearby with a book in hand but the place was void of his presence. When her hand tried to open the wooden latch, it didn't budge under her grasp and she used her other hand to desperately pry it open but received squat. She was ready to throw her weight against it when Altaïr's voice informed calmly, "I wouldn't try that. The door has been intentionally locked-"
"Templars?" she asked worriedly as her posture shifted defensively and backed away from the door suspiciously in case anyone burst in without notice. He shook his head to the woman's odd crab dance around the doorway, her hands already resembling the crustacean as he wondered just how that was supposed to be threatening. Apparently, there were many things about her that baffled Altaïr.
"No, I locked it myself because you and I" he explained smoothly as he grabbed a wooden chair to set it at the bottom of the bed and sat down neatly in it to finish plainly, "are going to have a talk."
Instantly, she was reminded of the first fear inducing interrogation and objected shrewdly, "No! If I haven't made it clear by now, I don't have anything to say to you on a personal level. You want answers to questions on your quest, fine-"
"We need to coexist-" he pointed out firmly to conquer the fear dwelling within her and the apparent abhorrence towards him. Vivian, however, wasn't having any part of it.
"We tolerate each other, that is enough" she stated simply and returned to jiggling the wooden latch despite she'd no idea on archaic locks. Altaïr pulled his pack open to grab his handy rope, quietly tying it to the nearest bedpost for security before bolting out of his chair towards her. His hands made quick work of tying the rope around her waist and although she struggled like a mad cat, he knotted it behind her back to prevent her from ever leaving. Her patience boiled over and she punched him on the left shoulder, not caring that he could end her existence with a flick of the wrist and exclaimed, "How dare you? I'm not cattle, you brute. I should scream my head off and have you arrested-"
"I'd rather you use an indoor voice to hide our presence and insult whatever pleases your fancy" he interrupted simply and her cheeks puffed to being bossed around. She almost resembled a ruffled feathered hen but he said nothing of it, stating directly, "You and I must place our hostility behind us and yes, I know I am in the wrong this time. So, will we talk willingly or will I have to keep you tied up?"
"You do know this isn't helping your cause" Vivian drawled sarcastically and he untied the rope from the bedpost in a show of good faith. What he didn't expect was for her to it as an extension to whip his legs and he ordered her to stop immediately with a stern voice. Reluctantly, she obeyed since seeing him imitate a dancing monkey wasn't as amusing as she'd originally imagined and pointed out, "You chastise me for talking since I arrived and now you want me to talk? You're a very contradicting man."
"Yes, I've been doing that a lot recently" he shot back grimly to his choices as of late but lightened his tone since he was there to rectify his mistake and seek peace.
Thank you for reading my story and have a wonderful day or cozy night from your part of the world.