It's Friendship, Just a Perfect Blendship!
Their conclusions were proven correct when one Templar decided to visit his dead buddy in the room next door, causing Altaïr to utilize Vivian's acting abilities when he had her pop out from their room to socialize with the Templar by trying to lure him into their bedroom. Unfortunately, the man ran away like the wind from Vivian's odd advances as she'd dressed as a normal woman of her time during summertime by forcing the neckline of her robe to hang from her shoulders. The twelfth century wasn't ready to create the fashion style of an off-the-shoulder dress and she couldn't imagine the reaction over a short maxi dress. Both assassins didn't know whether to be relieved or shocked to what actually happened before their very eyes, leading Altaïr to tease poor Vivian about lacking feminine wiles- even while breaking all of society's dress laws. A poke to his left eye silenced him since reciprocation would've had the two assassins brandishing weapons to kill the Templar.
Of course, when another Templar wandered in later at night by bypassing the wooden latch to open, the group was forced to jump into action. Besides, who would believe a Templar was out and about in the town for serendipity fun at dark rather than plotting the demise of humankind in their tiny 'evil fortress of doom'? Altaïr had decided that killing the Templar within the room and sealing it shut from all intruders would be the best bet and before sunrise, they would head out under the gaze of twilight to escape with a head start to the pyramids.
"All right, let's get this started" Vivian grinned mischievously as she prepared to lure out the wolf from its den in the next room, smoothing her fingers over her fixed robe. There was no way she was going out there with the altered robe that bared her shoulders and risk being killed for indecency or chased out of the city. They were going with the old 'damsel can't open a jar' ploy to beckon their enemy out of the den and Altaïr stressed for her to look decent but imperviously innocent. Of course, this meant a snug robe outlining her womanly figure with a flawless face that would allure a man of that time- characteristics she sorely lacked. The traveling Vivian preferred loose clothing, more on the pants and tunic side, while her fair face holding streaks of sunburns brought none of that. She would've been the greatest challenge to any modern day fashionista and makeup artist with her current look. Nonetheless, the upbeat historian swayed her hips alluringly to try out her amateur charming tactics while cocking her head to the side with a wide smile.
Altaïr's eyebrow simply rose to the tragically awful charm skills, her movements reminding him of an insane person wandering the docks of Acre, and bluntly stated, "I said attract him, not repel him with an eyesore."
She punched him on the bicep for the smartass comment since he lacked female anatomy to do the job himself and left their room to knock on the Templar's door. Her gentle knocking did nothing to draw him out and she ditched her charming persona to turn into the woeful 'lady in distress' because it had never failed Vivian. Gaming had taught her enough to fake her illnesses. Her soft knocking transformed into banging as she struck the door loudly enough to catch his attention, hearing surprised sounds from within and footsteps heading in her direction. Voila!
Seconds later, gruff male mumbles and an unlatched door had her face-to-face with a sleepy Templar that lacked any armor on. . .thank goodness he kept his pants on. It was strange seeing the enemy so casual, almost wistful as to why humankind kept fighting amongst themselves when they bled the same red hue, but she had to remember the atrocious things they did and kept her acting mask in place.
Immediately, Vivian reached for the man's arm on the door latch for aid as she declared woefully with dramatic flair, "Please, sir! I need help, my brother, he's been stabbed!"
The half-asleep man blinked lazily to her trouble and pointed to the stairway towards the left that led downstairs and pointed out simply, "Isn't this a matter for the owner-"
"No time, you must come and help! I need a strong man because I'm utterly helpless! Please!" she exclaimed desperately and added a little feminine pout to see if it would help matters, pushing her arms together to lift her bosom and show a little cleavage. Well, dramatic soap operas did come in handy sometimes and desperate times called for desperate measures. She fought not to barf when the man's brow rose to her 'innocent' posture and seized his unguarded stance to lead him towards their bedroom as she mumbled nonsensical sentences about Malik's 'condition' to alert her friends on their arrival.
That clever little badger, Altaïr mused with approval to her acting talent and decided that he would teach her defensive training once they had a moment of peace within a campsite. She was developing a talent for being their decoy and leading enemies into traps but that also called for defensive strategies in case it backfired. He didn't want the poor woman dead since he'd promised to protect her and Altair Ibn-La'Ahad kept his promises.
At this point, Altaïr was searching for a place to hide as Malik decided to play the injured party by throwing himself face down on the bed. His entire body slacked as he feigned a stab wound, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed as one arm clutched the bedspread and allowed the sleeve of his missing arm to lay on the bed by his side. Altaïr had to admire the ingenuity of the two as they changed the plan without a problem, wishing he held their acting talent, and hid behind the door of their personal bath. From there, he would watch and wait for his target to find the perfect time to strike without endangering his companions. He needed answers so knocking him unconscious was best but if not, death would be the only alternative.
Vivian ran in with hasty steps alongside the disgruntled Templar, pointing a worrisome finger with stricken grief on her face as Malik played dead and implored him to help her brother. She waited carefully until the enemy leaned over her friend to grab a nearby clay vase that rested on the table to strike like a mother cobra. This is what spy movies taught you, right? Using all her strength, she brought it down with all of her strength over the man's head as he'd been inspecting Malik and the vase shattered into small jagged pieces as it rained down upon his shoulders. The man grunted in pain to the unexpected attack but fell over the bed limply as he became unconscious from the blunt impact.
Malik was just glad he hadn't fallen on top of him as he quickly rolled off the bed to move somewhere safe and carefully brushed off any lingering shards from the vase, the tiny particles making no noise when they struck the floor. Altaïr quickly left his hiding spot to close the door before anyone heard the ruckus and decided to investigate, approaching his comrades to see their work. Vivian stared at her hands with stunned disbelief for what she'd done since attacking people day after day was a new change of schedule compared to her old routine of studying at the university but knew that being in Altaïr's company would constantly bring that. This was a fast approaching change in her life and she didn't know whether she liked or hated it, almost worried for the former.
Why can't it be like Ezio where we can hire factions for this?, she thought glumly since Altaïr wasn't one to play nice with others and preferred to work with his order alone. If anything, he was spoiled by being the best of the best and liked it that way. She looked around to find him for their next phase of the plan and jumped back with a small yelp when he appeared directly behind her like a phantom, her hand clutching her chest immediately from his silent approach. Why won't he stop doing that? He's like the white version of the grim reaper!
"You did well, Vivian" he encouraged since attacking people wasn't her calling in life and squeezed her right shoulder in support since she was a naïve soul in his world. She wasn't meant to attack people directly and he would rather have her as a decoy to bait their enemies, serving a support role while he ambushed their enemies to deal the killing blow. Her recent ordeal with the thieves had helped cement that fact but she would learn to handle such situations with time, watching her nod silently to his compliment.
"Help me tie him up" he ordered the two since the quicker they restrained him, the sooner they could wake him for questioning. After arriving later than originally intended, he was more than ready for answers and would bring a whole new meaning to interrogations since inns were not adequate quarters. If the Templar decided to be loud and reveal their intentions to those sleeping within the building, a gag would deafen the sounds nicely. Either that or he would resort to a quick execution, not something he desired when inquiring for information.
Vivian decided to tie up the man's feet since they were less dangerous and grabby than wriggly hands, whistling a little tune under her breath to keep her mind occupied. It wasn't every day that she was aiding and abetting a kidnapping so her mind would cope with this new change. An assassin's life was definitely not for her, thankful to live in a dimension where none of this existed. . .well, the Assassin-Templar feud anyway. Altaïr, who was tying the man's hands together, glanced at her with a deadpan expression to her eccentric singing and flatly questioned, "How can you possibly find this a suitable situation to sing about?"
"It's ten times better than uncomfortable silence filled with suspense" she answered smartly since this was a whole new arena for her and continued her tune of 'A Pirate's Life for Me'. Placing her left foot on the bed's wooden foundation, she used her weight to tie the man's feet around the sides of those wooden beams since they lacked a headboard or posts to string him onto. Using an amateurish karate chop to make sure the binding was taut, she looked to her teammates and asked casually for their input with a sneaky grin, "Unless you guys are more comfortable with that setting? I think I can whistle the James bond theme-"
"Vivian!"
She quieted to his reprimand with a pout since he could definitely pull of the theme with his unbelievable acrobatic movements but said nothing of it, certain that a video like that existed somewhere in YouTube land. There would be another time to pop in with the jokes. His sharp tone was loud enough to jolt the Templar awake as they groaned with pain to Vivian's unexpected vase strike and when he reached to rub the top of his head, his hands refused to budge. Altaïr yanked her away from the man immediately in case danger arose, moving her behind him at a safe distance, and began to question the dizzy man without relent, "Why are you here?"
The man took instant notice that he was an assassin with his sheathed weapons and seeing as his limbs were wrapped tighter than a bale of freshly cut hay, it didn't take long for him to put two and two together. Vivian swore the Templar foamed at the mouth when he spat acidly, "Assassin!"
"Okay, we're going to skip the hurling of assassin-templar sass to get down to the nitty gritty" Vivian broke in between both of them because she wasn't about to bear a verbal throw down that would only leave them with future insults to use. They needed vital information to enter Khufu's pyramid by tomorrow night since the location would undoubtedly be closed to tourists at that hour, giving them a heavy advantage in retrieving the piece. With the Templars running about, they would be contemplating the same idea- unless they'd conjured another- and Vivian wanted that knowledge by telling Altaïr simply, "Just demand what you want."
The assassin grabbed the man by the collar of his clothes to lift his torso off the bed by a few inches and demanded with a threatening hiss that reminded Vivian of their altercation, "Tell me what I need to know about that piece hidden in the pyramid, don't act oblivious!"
Their enemy simply snorted with disdain since he wouldn't be giving away secrets and Altaïr tried to appeal to their power-hungry side, "I know the Templars want the piece and you are trapped in here with me, a shameful capture that will undoubtedly be costly when you return. We are closer than you could possibly imagine and when they realize we've infiltrated the pyramid while you were left behind to tell them all of this after we've gone from this land. . .well, I'll leave that reunion to you."
If Altaïr would've lived in her time, he would've made a decent detective of the law.
However, their enemy wasn't going to play nice as Altaïr's words rang true with the cut throat attitude of the Templar order and blue eyes narrowed at the assassin for daring to say that. When the Templar spit at Altaïr in defiance, Vivian decided to push herself into the fray to get the results her companion sorely needed. How badly could she do? Nobody spit at her cranky assassin (especially if she couldn't) and escaped with such a disgraceful tactic without garnering retribution, deeming a vendetta against the foul man to cleanse Altaïr's sullied image. Striding forward, she slapped the Templar across the right cheek and left an immediate red handprint over his fair skin from the strength behind it. Leaning over the bed, she pinched his nose with her left hand as she'd done whenever her younger sister annoyed her and demanded sharply, "What country are you from?"
The man was taken aback by seeing a woman take the interrogator's place, one with English features no less, and wondered how the assassins managed to nab one of theirs. The Templars heard rumors that using women was rare and most were unknown in ethnical origins, leading him to blink confusingly at the fair woman and sputtered unsurely, "W-What?"
"What' isn't a country I've ever heard of!" she pointed out firmly as her eyes narrowed to make the man believe he was a tiny speck in comparison to her, taking advantage of her gender as she threw him aback. Altaïr was a little surprised himself since she'd only showed her badger rage towards him and never against others, observing her dramatics to gain answers. Vivian didn't mind slipping into fake personas since her friends were her only concern, gripping the Templar's square chin roughly to bark, "Do they speak Arabic or English in 'What'?"
His blue eyes merely blinked to her questions as she leaned down with mischief glinting in her eyes and he balked, "What?"
She shook the man's head by roughly jiggling his chin, hopefully dizzying him enough to answer their questions, and peered into his eyes to state coldly, "Arabic and English, dumbass, do you speak it?"
The man managed to nod through her incessant shaking and answered hastily, "Yes."
She squeezed the man's chin to the point of cutting off his circulation and grinned madly to ask with deathly calm, "So you understand the words I'm saying to you?"
"Yes?" he supplied uncertainly since she wasn't demanding answers about their whereabouts and plans for world domination, becoming uneasy under her emerald gaze. It reminded him of a peaceful green meadow. . .filled with concealed poisonous snakes. To Altaïr and Malik, Vivian looked just about manic enough to scare the man into answering questions with subtle tweaking. Altaïr preferred the threatening tactics of the bad cop while Malik appealed to their good side- if they had any- by being the good cop. . .and apparently, Vivian would play the new 'mentally unstable cop' to throw diversity into the stable mix.
"So you understand that there are unknown unknowns in Giza and we must find the known unknowns in the pyramid before they become unknown unknowns?" Vivian spouted off rapidly to puzzle the man even further with the interrogation gibberish, releasing his chin to grasp the sides of his head. If there was anything she'd learned from watching suspenseful television shows that used confusing nonsense, it was that some people fell into a verbal hole that one could manipulate. This guy wasn't giving answers but if she could strike uncomfortable fear in him, not 'terror' fear, then maybe he'd let something slip unknowingly just to get her away.
As an extra kick, she added a twitching left eye to emphasize her little craziness. . .although she really hoped people of that rough mentality didn't exist in large numbers because psychiatry was yet to be established as a science. The passing centuries would not be easy on those poor souls that would endure such inborn trauma in their lives. It brought a shudder just to think about the old asylums that locked up innocent people suffering mental disorders just to keep them out of society's sights, sweeping them under a dirty rug like a bad note.
The Templar made her brief ruminations worse when he popped in with his same answer from last time, "What?"
"Say 'what' again, I dare you, I double dare you, you imperialist asswipe!" Vivian demanded harshly as she integrated herself into the fictional persona she'd copied off television and Altaïr blinked in surprise to the words coming out of her mouth. When had the little impish historian turned into a rough sharp-tongued woman? She was going to be a good performer as they traveled south and he might just have her dance like a little monkey in public for extra money. He decided to pull her away since the Templar seemed unnerved by her (rather than him, a lethal assassin) and Vivian pulled his hands tighter around her waist when he grabbed her to seize an advantage, utilizing his action by wiggling rabidly to portray herself as a danger by snapping irately, "You're lucky he's taking me away, I will gouge out your eyes and feed them to you in tomato sauce."
"Do your worst-" the Templar shot back as he managed to summon his merciless courage, mostly since she was being pried away from him and couldn't return to rip his eyes out. His order only met filthy peasants and civilized females in the streets, paying attention to none since only the rarity of that gender held within their ranks warranted respect. Women like that dark-haired banshee waving her arms. . .they were better off dead, cut off from society before they infected humankind's purity.
"I will castrate you and feed them to the nearest pig pen" she declared madly to add in her last insult, wiggling her nose with similarity to a hog, and the Templar winced since no man wanted damage in that particular area.
She added a low rabid growl to show she meant business as the assassin placed her in the farthest corner, his hands squeezing her shoulders to keep her in place and he smirked with approval, "Thank you, your acting is very believable."
Vivian switched out of her volatile character instantly, her peppy demeanor returning to her oval face as she smiled broadly to his compliment, "Oh, don't thank me, thank The Boondocks. They have some really good lines for nonsensical interrogations."
He. . .He decided to completely ignore what she said for the sake of his sanity and returned to his interrogation without mercy.
"Tell me what I need to know or I will cut off your limbs slowly and leave you in the desert for the vultures to feast on" Altaïr threatened harshly, widening Vivian's eyes to the tone of his voice but Malik shook his head from his spot at the head of the bed to show he was kidding. Well, he was always believable with everything he uttered and she could see why he had issues with acting when he was gruff 24/7. If she ever needed a bodyguard, Altaïr would have no issue playing that part because you couldn't beat a real life assassin coming to one's rescue- seriously, those innocent civilians in the first game were darn lucky.
"I will serve the Templars to the death, assassin!" the man yelled fiercely and Altaïr backhanded him in return with stronger force than Vivian's first strike, accusing the secret order for their atrocities. Vivian almost felt a little guilty for finding a little pleasure in that- how was she not supposed to find the man admirable? Ugh, she blamed her hormones for that since a fangirl could never deny the awesomeness of the assassins but squashed any chibi versions that squeezed their own Altaïr plushy inside of her mind. He already gave her enough strange looks about her futuristic ways and personality so adding further mortification by being caught with figurative hearts in her eyes would not bode well. If anything, they'd take a humongous step back from their current progress as companions.
Altaïr's ongoing interrogation didn't seem to be drawing any clues from the reluctant man and Vivian pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping this man wasn't a 'to the death' fanatic. Malik had to remind him to cover the man's mouth with a rag during the interrogation since they were in a public establishment, which unsettled the dai because anyone could overhear if they pressed their ears against the wall. Whenever Altaïr demanded answers and the guy decided to spat vulgar language, Vivian yawned loudly to muffle the man's voice as she prevented his voice from topping hers. Malik had to stifle a few laughs when her random yawning rivaled a slumbering bear but the Templar had caused the passing minutes to become slowly tedious.
"You'll never reach the temple-" the man growled heatedly as he now sported a nice purple eye and Altaïr restrained himself from choking the man to make him spit out answers. Vivian's continuous yawning broke the final nerve of the Templar's patience and he glared irately at her to snap shrewdly, "Stop yawning, wench!"
"Make me, bucket head" she shot back with an upturned nose and crossed her arms to turn away snippily, clearly depicting she wouldn't fall under his ugly mudded boot. She wasn't about to listen to sass from her enemy and could see they were heading nowhere, grabbing her walking stick from its corner next to the door. Malik watched her cross the bedroom to stand next to Altaïr, his eyes widening slightly when she proceeded to poke the man roughly in the face and ordered briskly, "Don't ever call a lady 'wench', pal!"
With that said, she poked him in the left eye as a final insult that elicited a yelp of pain and she retreated back to her original spot next to the dai. Her walking stick never failed to do its job and hoped it wouldn't break anytime soon because all she'd seen on their journey were twigs. Her painfully comedic pokes didn't help their case as the man remained strong in his beliefs and she leaned in to state privately to Malik with reluctance, "I don't think he's going to talk. If I had ice and a torch, I could recreate the Punisher's fake torture scene but I have nothing up my sleeve."
"Unfortunately, I think this is our shortest interrogation ever" Malik frowned glumly to the cautious Vivian as she watched the other two men argue, their tactics yielding nothing. Her hairs stood on end with suspense since she expected the growing noise to alert somebody but maybe stone walls were thicker than the wooden version of her modern times. She wasn't accustomed to tense scenarios where a person's life was held on the line and Malik assured gently as he sensed that apprehension, "This is perfectly normal for assassins, once you adapt to it."
Her head tilted to the side since she wasn't looking for lifetime membership into the assassin's order, merely maintaining her role of Robin to their Batman. She didn't hold idealistic fangirl dreams of becoming an assassin and as the passing time permitted witnessing what they truly did, she didn't have a strong enough heart to do it. Yes, she could lead Altaïr and Malik to their enemies as a decoy but to deal the killing blow to a human being. . .she wasn't ready to commit such an act. Her dedication and morality played a part in that, hoping that the two wouldn't see her as fainthearted for trying to avoid such a scenario. Trying to keep a light mood to their current situation, she smiled cheekily while watching the interrogation and murmured faintly with wonder, "Hmm, I don't know whether to be shocked by this or a little aroused by watching him."
Malik's head slumped to her out of the blue comment and she squeezed his shoulder sympathetically since her little rambles could make anyone cuckoo in their era. He put a little pep back in her step when he admitted that her insanity kept them sane through the journey and Vivian assured she'd keep it up since entering foreign lands made anyone feel tiny. Malik left her side to rejoin Altaïr, who was happily punching in the man's sternum, and pulled him back gently to inform quietly, "It's time to finish this. We cannot risk anymore noise at this hour."
Vivian's eyes widened slightly when the situation turned into full blown assassination mode and had the urging sense to burrow like a turtle for safety. Back in the village, she had no such option and wanted to avoid catching any sights of real human blood spilling into plain sight or watching a person die (even if they were evil). Clutching her walking stick close, she scuttled up to the two slowly with nervousness lacing into their voice as she admitted, "I'm not ready to watch a kill, I'm not strong to stomach it. Just tell the guy that he wasn't tortured so he can die peacefully and we don't turn into them."
"You're definitely not assassin material, run along" Altaïr stated dryly to the lingering squeamishness in her heart but allowed her excuse to leave since she was an untrained civilian. A crazy stick wielding one, but still a civilian.
"Can't we just lock him in a crate and ship him to Mongolia?" she tried to bargain since death brought her discomfort but the assassins shook their heads in unison, their creed demanding that they not be discovered. Well, can't blame a girl for trying the paragon route. Enemies were to be eliminated and Vivian would have to adjust to it because the Templars certainly didn't think twice about ending her life back in that Cairo village. If she'd known her life would take a topsy-turvy dive like this into areas of questionable morality, she would've stuck happily to simply playing the game franchise and daydreaming about Altaïr.
Vivian left the bedroom in a hurry to wash her mind of what was coming, quietly closing the door behind her as she pressed her back against it and breathed deeply to calm herself. Oh man, she didn't want to come back to find a bleeding corpse in their bed and sleep on it afterwards. An assassin's life was not a pretty bouquet of roses and they had no fields of grey in their black and white world as the factions waged their silent war. She was working for the good of mankind and just as soldiers kept civilians safe by facing incomprehensible danger so they wouldn't have to, she would do the same. Still, she assured herself that the biting guilt made her human unlike the cold Templars, who felt no remorse, and when she stopped caring about the death of another, that was when she had to begin worrying.
And so, as she walked away to find a pitcher of water to dispel thirst during the night, she pondered aloud with curiosity, "I wonder if I have a cool ancestor or future decedent here. . .or I could be my own descendant. . .hmm, beats me where in Europe I came from this far back."
With a shrug of her shoulders, she hoped to drown out any noise that might escape their room down the hall and sang aloud with an off-key voice to cover their tracks, "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go-"
"Shut up! People are trying to sleep, have some consideration!" a patron yelled infuriatingly from somewhere on their floor and she flinched to the sharp tone, ceasing her singing before her and her friends were kicked out. That would not go over very well with a certain assassin and she scuttled off downstairs to find her pitcher.
"Altaïr?"
Vivian couldn't fall asleep in bed after what occurred in the bedroom because one, they'd just killed someone in a civilian establishment. Two, his snoring was beginning to grate her nerves because he and Malik created the most unbearable snoring symphony imaginable in the history of mankind. But mostly: she was sleeping in the same bed a man had been assassinated on!
The past hours had gone tediously slow as everyone had gone to bed without a problem or discussing their previous actions, the Templar's body hauled back to its old room since Altaïr couldn't lug the body down the building to a well. He'd sealed the room tightly enough to buy them a few hours of sleep since they would rise early but Vivian had a hard time falling asleep. She tried to leave the bed but her efforts were thwarted by a blanket hogging Altaïr that decided to claim sovereignty rights to everything on the bed, trapping her within it. Trying to wiggle free of the blankets ensnaring her to the bed, she heard Altaïr mumble subconsciously in his sleep, "No, don't oil the blade. . .must use. . .cleaning cloth first."
Even his dreams are about assassinating, she thought humorously to his random stream of thoughts through dreamland. The man was extremely dedicated to his cause, she had to give him that much and admired his tenacity to adhere to every rule. It was definitely a difference than the Altaïr she'd started off with in the game and even the snarky one she'd met in Jerusalem. Well, he was still grumpy and stern but not so much towards her since their little chat.
She managed to nudge the snoring bear awake when she yanked the blankets sharply to free herself, almost tumbling off the bed from the sheer force. With a soft squeak, she managed to grasp Altaïr's sleeping tunic and saved herself from an unexpected tumble to the floor that would've undoubtedly caused Malik to wake across the room. Altaïr jolted awake from the sudden pull since he'd been on guard after the assassination, sitting up groggily with half-closed eyes as he mumbled out a battle taunt, "Come on then, I'll kill you all."
Vivian stuffed the end of one blanket in his mouth before he decided to leap off the bed and fight invisible intruders, inadvertently waking poor Malik and tripping over his own feet. Altaïr looked to the culprit who dared to bind him with a blanket and found Vivian's outline in the dark as the filtering moonlight cast shadows in the room, already knowing a frown was on her face. How did he know? It was either that or a cheeky grin, and he doubted she'd be happy in this hour of the night.
He pulled out the linen blanket from his mouth with a gag since he'd no idea when they'd been washed and since he didn't fancy waking this late, tightly asked with a hiss, "May I ask why you woke me?"
"I can't sleep" she replied flatly since her night was not going as expected, knowing that tomorrow should have a peppy energetic Vivian to lighten the mood. Of course, without decent sleep, she'd more than likely be grumpy or lethargic throughout the whole wagon ride. She fell back into the mattress with a tired sigh and frowned a second later since a living man had occupied it no less than three hours ago. It had an eerie effect on her since she didn't want that man's bad luck to rub off on her throughout the night.
"And you woke me because?" he drawled slowly to gain an idea as to why she did it because he wasn't about to offer company. Between killing Templars and visiting the library during the day, the night had exhausted him completely with his last enemy and he wanted a good sleep to replenish his energy. He was grateful to sleep in a comfortable bed that didn't feel like rocks or lingered with the threat of wild animals slipping into his sheets to attack and would take full advantage of it.
"You were hogging the blankets and I. . .I don't feel comfortable sleeping in a bed where someone died" she explained sheepishly since he did stuff like that on a daily basis without breaking a sweat but she hadn't. This is why she didn't use evil characters in a game or took cutthroat options to further her goals, cursing her nice side as it held a hippie peace sign. Altaïr didn't see what the fuss was about because he'd certainly slept in tents that belonged to his enemies after dispatching them because a pouring storm wouldn't have him sleeping outside out of respect for them. His enemies should be grateful that he even bothered to bury them in shallow graves rather than leave them out for the vultures to feast on.
"When we're tired, we make some sacrifices" he stated simply because his job was never going to win an award for the best profession or pay very well. Frankly, as long as he could keep his weapons sharp, have decent shelter, and obtain food, he would live to be a content humble man. He wasn't worried over the tiny inconsequential facts, unlike Vivian, and laid back down on the best to relax and try to get some sleep. The mattress was too soft to ignore as he snuggled into it with a soft sigh and didn't want to return to sleeping on the flat hard land where tiny rocks would poke his back through the night.
She balked to his plain reasoning and pushed him by the shoulder, eliciting a bear-like grunt from the assassin as she hissed in his right ear, "I'm not about to open myself to a haunting here."
"There are no such things as ghosts, the only thing you should be worried about are the Templars" he mumbled sleepily since they were the ones breathing down their necks, not specters in the dark. The logic of the time traveler was strange as she valued the life of practically every creature, a sharp contrast to his era where survival of oneself (and family) prevailed. He sighed under his breath as she shook the bed with her incessant fumbling and put an end to it by trapping her underneath one of the blankets. Vivian could barely let out a yelp of protest when he swaddled her like a newborn with his agility until she could no longer move her limbs, feeling eerily similar to an ancient mummy and groaned miserably to her luck.
"You're swaddling me against my will" she mumbled pathetically as her body was deemed immobile by his blanket folding skills and was stumped to that uncanny ability. Was there anything he couldn't do? Kicking her legs were no good and neither were bending her arms as she'd become a trap in a blanket cocoon that. . .was oddly comforting. If this is how babies felt, the sensation was warmly marvelous as the snug wrapping spelled safety.
In an unusual characteristic, Altaïr took on the once in a lifetime role of a father eagle and patted the top of Vivian's moppy hair as she remained immobile. Vivian didn't appreciate being restrained like Neville of the Harry Potter novels. . .but it was strangely soothing. The warmth and comfort in the confined space was unnerving and welcoming at the same time, leaving her with comically rounded eyes to her acceptance of it. This was not how she imagined sleeping in Giza, expecting Altaïr to send her flying off the bed at any second by pulling the edge of the blanket and unwrapping her like a burrito. Instead, she lay there like a swaddled newborn while Altaïr kept her close by patting the top of her head in similarity to a cat but lo and behold. . .he fell asleep first.
Thankfully, his perplexing tactics did lull a sleep deprived Vivian to snooze like a baby a few minutes later.
"Going on a wagon ride to adventure" Vivian sang cheerfully with a sappy smile as she watched the city become smaller, sitting at the end of the wagon to gaze at the fading landscape like a young child on their first road trip. The humid morning brought the three on their first wagon trip towards Giza, the wheel creaking in their movement over the bumpy road as they traveled east. They had left the inn quickly before the early hours of sunrise, leaving a note on the front counter as Altaïr's crafty hands made quick work of the front door lock and they escaped into the empty streets of Giza to head to their wagon ride. They had waited patiently since they'd arrived an hour early just to stay on the safe side and had breakfast on a bale of hay to refuel their energy. The trio shared the wagon with six other people to fill it up and most would think a weapon clad Altaïr would be the main attraction but no, Vivian snatched the attention with her crazy quirks by gasping at everything she caught sight of. In reality, she'd simply never been inside a wagon since most were either used by the Amish or went out of commission after the pioneer days in the states. Who wouldn't want to go on a wagon ride in ancient times?
The assassin was thankful nobody tried to make idle chat with him since his social skills weren't up to par with Malik's and let his friend take over that domain to gain information. The one thing he couldn't bear was the smell of stale hay that seemed to pour out of every crevice and joined Vivian at the back to breathe the dusty air from the road before the wagon ride gave him motion sickness. Altaïr liked fresh and dry hay that didn't add nausea to the flipping feeling in his stomach, nothing else. He threw his arms over the back of the wagon, his body slumping like a limp puppet without its strings as his limbs dangled, and he sighed dismally, "You couldn't have bought a horse?"
"It would've taken ages to sell it and I would've grown attached" she reminded quickly with a sheepish tone since their canoe was being taken care of at the docks within a warehouse. Plus, with her tendency to fawn over animals, she'd never release the animal to a new owner. She'd tried all of the bargaining chips she could think of but all of them failed horribly until the wagon trip was the only suitable option left. After all, they weren't flooded in money and she pointed out earnestly to brighten his sour mood, "Malik and I really tried our best but unless we had five kids running around, we had a no go for a private wagon."
"You could've paid children to act the part" Altaïr suggested with his expertise to gain access to what he needed, aiming a deadpan stare at Vivian for her shoddy failure. It didn't deter her mood or the traveling decision, blowing a careless raspberry in his direction before gazing out at the fading city once more. She highly doubted he could've done wonders in negotiation since she'd managed to nab most of their savings while he tended to offend merchants or destroy property.
"This is what we have so make do. . .because we have to buy another trip back" she stated matter-of-factly as the bright golden sun bared down on them to roast their skin under its gaze. They weren't flowing in money and had to afford the return trip to the city since their mode of transportation was the Nile if they wanted to reach the other locations before the Templars. For all they knew, they had ships at their disposal to travel alongside the spice trade routes. At the same time, her group had to save whatever measly cents they could to afford food since hunting didn't mean a catch would always be nabbed while Templars probably stole their food directly from civilians. She'd never seen a depressed assassin but when he slumped against the wood with the consistency of malleable putty, she couldn't help but pat him on the back to empathize gently, "It'll be okay, buddy."
"I'm not comfortable with this buddy thing" he grumbled with a disapproving frown as he glared at the brown dirt rolling by underneath the wagon. With a horse, he could've passed the slow wagon with miles to spare and cursed his luck since he'd yet to have any actual contentment from any journey he undertook. When would he get a delicious meal or a warm blanket as a thank you for all of the hard work? Each bump over the uneven road and random rock they passed over caused his tailbone a jolt of pain but with his sitting position, the passing hours had numbed his posterior until only sharp bumps prickled his slumbering nerves. Uncomfortable with not being able to feel anything down there, he moved to the right to lean on his leg to give his poor butt a rest and growled under his breath.
"It's words like those that make Ezio the franchise's favorite" she insulted dryly to his cranky demeanor that day since he'd awoken as if a rod had been inserted up his butt and had yet to surface. They were lucky that the wagon was taking them directly to the pyramids and didn't have to walk all the way there as they've done for the past weeks to reach their locations. Quite frankly, she'd expected herself to be the one nagging about the unbearable weather but she was quite dandy as a dandelion while Altaïr was ready to tear out his own hair. She tilted her head to the side in hopes that she could draw his heated gaze away from the poor inanimate wagon and feigned a dismal sigh as she gazed at the azure sky above them, "How I regret saying you were the cool one."
She opened her arms to the sun for an invisible embrace and declared aloud, "Take me to Ezio. I take back everything I ever said, I want to hang out with Leo and Mario during the renaissance. I'll even kiss Ezio if that's what it takes. He's probably riddled with disease but what isn't nowadays?"
"And the sun has officially killed your mind" Altaïr stated sarcastically since he wasn't keen on being insulted because he made do with what life provided him in the 1190s. He didn't know who this popular Ezio was, except from what she mumbled incoherently during her sleep, but he was pretty sure that he was an assassin. He didn't really care what she thought of him but a piece of his ego itched to know who this spectacular assassin was that apparently had a horde of followers worldwide. Did this 'Ezio's skills surpass his own? He highly doubted it since he'd been trained since childhood but the question still poked at his mind, remembering he had to keep that awful hubris in check.
She spotted a small animal scurry by across the path after the wagon's clearance gave the all clear for the little plated creature to safely cross, drawing Vivian's intrigue as she called out giddily, "Look, a 'dillo!"
"My attention no longer cares to sightsee" he muttered listlessly about the scampering armadillo since he preferred horse riding rather than a public wagon ride, slumping once more in his corner as he tried to avoid the sun's glare. Of course, that was easier said than done as he baked in the wooden coffin with wheels and yearned to splash in a cold pool of water until his skin wrinkled. For the first time in his life, he yearned for a body of water to quench the thirst of his poor flesh. Resting his back against the wood, he leaned his head on the top of it to sigh aloud with the exasperated tone of a wet cat, "I'd welcome thieves at this moment-"
"Thieves?," the people in their wagon suddenly exclaimed as he was overheard quite clearly, the lack of a decent breeze aiding his audio projection, and heads snapped in all directions to verify. Vivian didn't know whether to tell them the truth or keep quiet since the women onboard kept meekly silent, following the era's norms, and she absolutely hated that. That wasn't to say she was a natural motor mouth but a peep once in a while was better than nothing at all, wishing she didn't have to share all of her conversations with the grumpy Altaïr.
Malik shot his hooded friend a glare for letting his thoughts slip out for everyone to hear and tried to calm the innocent civilians from falling into a false sense of fear. During these turbulent times, thieves roamed any roads and were ready to rob travelers blind from all of their belongings- killing them if they needed to. Malik didn't want a bounty on his head, nor on his friends, because they had to keep themselves inconspicuous at all costs and assured the people sitting within the wagon as they clutched their packs tightly, "There are no thieves, he was simply being dramatic-"
"I bet they're thieves!" someone accused from up ahead and Vivian snorted to the mere idea because she'd more likely fall off the wagon than tear the belongings from somebody's arms. She couldn't even swat a fly on her bravest day and had already faced thieves herself so she could scratch that implication off. After all, she hadn't reached the point where she covered herself from head to toe in clothing and forgot all about her hygiene to emit a stink within a two foot radius. Yeah, those wandering thieves had smelled that badly and thanked the glorious company of the fresh-faced assassins who maintained their cleanliness.
"Trust me, there's nothing worth of value in this place or on any of you" she informed casually with a wave of her hand as her notorious gaming kleptomania took hold. Whenever she could find anything to loot without causing anyone harm or making innocent people lose money, you bet she'd scamper off with it and protect her new find. Altaïr had already caught her last night as she'd tried to leave with three extra morsels of cheese from the kitchen, prompting him to steal and eat two of them to show her a lesson.
Of course, civilians in that era were spooked with just about anything relating to stealing and worried murmurs erupted through the small group as Malik tried to dissuade their worries. He fabricated a story about them wandering south from Greece as he and Altaïr were fabric salesmen while Vivian had tagged along, being Altaïr's younger half-sibling, to find a new city for business. He tried to imprint that lie into their minds as they eyed his friends suspiciously and placed his most charming smile on his lips as he assured, "They are my friends, I personally vouch that they are perfectly harmless-"
"Driver, they plan to rob us!" one of the young women yelped fearfully since most civilians didn't take chances with strangers, clutching her basket of items close for fear that she'd lost them. Altaïr wouldn't have been caught dead with such a shoddy basket, preferring wicker baskets using rattan out of all. Yes, he was picky but only because he sought the best quality products and didn't care in the slightest to what his friends thought.
Vivian quickly turned around with a flabbergasted face to their accusations and questioned sarcastically, "Are you people daft? We're traveling on a public route during daylight to a place full of travelers. You, my dear villagers, are terribly awful at the power of deduction."
"They have weapons" a little boy at the front of the wagon told his mother as he pointed at Altaïr, the assassin giving him a placid expression for pinpointing him out of the crowd. Well, he was the only one wearing full on white against the neutral browns and grays. . .even the wagon contrasted against his clothing. He narrowed his brown eyes slightly, his hood casting an ominous shadow against his tan face that immediately led the boy to seeking refuge against his mother's bosom. Vivian gently smacked his elbow since any look he gave would send a sane person running off rather than sticking around to hear him.
"What? Are we not supposed to protect ourselves from danger on the roads to keep our lives?" Altaïr questioned nobody in particular, opening his arms from his cloistered hermit stance to seek an answer from the travelers but received no peep out of them. They were too busy staring at his leather belt, which he'd been covering with his arms but lifting them gave each an eyeful of the dangerous throwing knives strapped to their sheaths. Obviously, this didn't go over very well with the apprehensive civilians.
Vivian stared at her handy walking stick, seeing absolutely nothing lethal about it since Altaïr himself had mocked its usefulness. For a piece of wood, it had withstood a Templar's sword embedding into it and Vivian carried it proudly after it saved her life. It would never see battle against civilians or harm anyone, serving a sole purpose of defense to the wielder, and she drawled slowly for emphasis while shaking her stick towards them, "This is a stick, harmless to anyone because as you can see. . .it has no sharp edges. What danger can this bring? Giving somebody bothersome neck pain? Unwanted splinters?"
Altaïr snorted derisively because he no longer cared what they thought of him because his mind was on reaching the pyramid, drawing the white hood lower over his face. The hushed accusations didn't lessen and after a while, Vivian became bored of it as well and watched Altaïr's head bob with each bump over the road as he'd placed it over the top of his knees. The poor man screamed 'entertain me' and Vivian's mischievous side struck by reaching out to tickle the assassin with the end of her walking stick to brighten his sour disposition. Altaïr sprung out of his cloistered corner to bat aside the bothersome stick because she wasn't crazy enough to tickle him herself, jabbing him over the areas that the leather belt didn't cover.
Malik caught sight of what she was doing, watching his friend squirm in his seat as he reacted to her pokes while trying to swipe that stick out of her hands. Oh, and he was laughing- laughing! Hearing him declare through fits of uncontrollable enraged laughter that he was going to kill Vivian with his blade overflowed the bowl of fear in the people and the tense situation reached critical failure. If he could've face palmed and assumed a new identity within a second, he would have been on his way to the Mediterranean on that little boat he dreamt of. Instead, he was forced to sit inside the wagon as he heard Altair's guffawing echo through the air as he declared manically through fits of laughter, "I'm going. . .to skewer you. . .with my blade! Vivian. . .I swear. . ."
Minutes later with continuous threats that frightened the entire wagon, Altaïr and Vivian found themselves stranded on the dusty wagon path alone as they were unanimously kicked out by 8-3 votes. Vivian didn't even know they could vote democratically at this stage in history within small groups and had happily filed that away for further reference. Malik had been cast out automatically as well for picking sides (and for fear he was a thief in disguise) and at the moment, wished he'd appealed for a separate wagon trial. The dai gazed solemnly at the little wooden wagon slowly heading to the pyramids, which were still a distance away, and felt a part of himself die for being left out there to rot. Instead of Altaïr leering at them with a blood freezing stare or his ominous glares of death, it was Malik's time to unleash his very first scowl at the two. Vivian instantly latched onto Altaïr's arm with a meek 'eep' since she'd never seen him mad while Altaïr merely stared apathetically without an effect as Malik scolded them by shouting, "You just had to scare people into thinking we were thieves! Why. . .why would you do that?"
Altaïr scratched the bottom of his chin, trying to avoid being blamed at all about being chucked out of the wagon, and stated nonchalantly, "We may have gone a little too far."
"In our defense, the sun might in fact be cooking our brains at this very moment" Vivian added in to boost their excuse and smiled innocently for extra points, confounded that she was seeking refuge with Altaïr rather than Malik. Had she changed the tables drastically in a world where nothing made sense anymore? Oh man, Wonderland was starting to look better by the minute. She sulked in knowing they would have to walk the rest of the way and hoped the wagon would lose a wheel on route for kicking them out unjustly. Couldn't people take a joke?
"It is rather hot today" Altaïr agreed with a slow nod as her reasoning made sense, ready to latch onto a loophole that would calm the dai's irritation. After their rocky year, he didn't want to damage their renewed friendship and wanted to avoid future arguments between them. Malik, on the other hand, couldn't believe the fact they were actually agreeing on something rather than tearing each other apart. Out of all of the times for the two to join forces, it had to be under the hot sun in the middle of nowhere.
He jabbed a finger towards them to keep them at bay from approaching him, already knowing that their innocent expressions were deceptive to the hidden mischief underneath. Separately, they obliterated each other but united, they brought calamity upon him and everybody else. His leather boots stomped over the loose dirt, picking up a small dust cloud in his stead, and he marched forward on the path while declaring aloud, "I am going to walk ahead and I would appreciate a little silence for the next ten minutes. Behave yourselves."
Both of them watched the dai leave, their faces etched with disappointed frowns as the earth crunched underneath Malik's boots as he headed east by himself. Vivian sighed under her breath since she didn't like having him upset, especially in that heat wave, and wanted her friend back to his calm easygoing demeanor. Who else would keep her sane and protected from accidentally being killed by Altaïr? The world wasn't ready to witness an angry Malik and she clenched her hands at her side to order Altaïr with gusto, "We need to cheer him up."
Altaïr directed a deadpan stare to the ecstatic badger ready to tackle the problem but his eyes spoke a different story because he just knew she would do something stupid. Her 'grand' scheme would inadvertently cause him mortification, as if he hadn't experienced enough back in the wagon, and wished he could light her on fire with his glare power alone. At least that would break the tension and have Malik preoccupied with the flailing woman on fire. Vivian simply smiled innocently, swaying on the balls of her feet as she tapped the top edge of his hood to portray herself as a sweet damsel in need of rescuing a dai. She wasn't about to reverse everything the woman suffrage and feminist movements created, turning the tables this time because her friend needed the emotional rescuing in this case.
He didn't buy the innocent ploy for a single second.
Vivian's true intentions sprung forth when she slid her one of her travel packs off her shoulder and as he watched that sack of cloth bang against the ground, he wondered how that petite woman managed to carry all of those packs. Before he could call her a human tortoise for practically lugging around an entire campground, she pried open the brown knapsack by its leather strings and grinned wildly when white pristine robes stared back at her from within. She gazed at the stoic assassin who was more than ready to begin chasing down Malik for forgiveness rather than partake in her idea but Vivian chirped optimistically, "I hope you're not as prideful as you once were because what we're about to do throws it out the window."
Altair didn't really have much to lose at this point since his order wouldn't witness anything embarrassing and crossed his arms over his chest to spit out gruffly with reluctance, "Will it cheer up, Malik?"
She smiled with delight to have him onboard, expecting initial objections at first but this made it ten times better, and piped up cheekily, "With what we're about to do, there's no way it won't. It will, however, extinguish our dignity. Are you, Altaïr, prepared to go where no human has gone before?"
Maybe he should've kicked her out of the wagon to rearrange her logic back into its rightful place.
Malik idly walked down the dusty path as sweat formed on his brow from the lack of shade and hoped trees or boulders would eventually emerge to give him a small moment of solitude. Giza was a lush land but apparently, their path was anything but enticing as it resembled more of a wasteland with desert dunes obscuring the horizon of both the city and the pyramids. Where had the beautiful palm trees and rocky mounds that provided shelter gone? A quick set of footsteps approached from behind and his fast reflexes allowed him to step out of the way before he was trampled by the incoming blur of white. The sight that awaited him caused him to believe he had fallen into a heat induced mirage or hallucination as Altaïr zoomed by with Vivian perched on his shoulders, bearing her weight easily. She'd placed the outer layer of the assassin's garb she'd arrived with over her gray robes, wrinkling areas of it as she'd thrown it on in a hurry to get her show on the road. To Malik, she held the appearance of a plump hen as the two bore a stronger similarity with their matching outfits and Vivian raised her arms to sing jovially,
"If you're ever in a jam, here I am
If you're ever in a mess, S-O-S
If you ever feel so happy, you land in jail;
I'm your bail.
It's friendship, friendship, just a perfect blendship.
When other friendships have been forgot,
Ours will still be hot.
Lah-dle-ah-dle-ah-dle dig, dig, dig
If you're ever up a tree, phone to me.
If you're ever down a well, ring my bell.
If you ever lose your teeth, and you're out to dine;
borrow mine.
It's friendship, friendship, just a perfect blendship.
When other friendships have been forgot,
Ours will still be hot.
Lah-dle-ah-dle-ah-dle, chuck, chuck, chuck
If they ever black your eyes, put me wise.
If they ever cook your goose, turn me loose-"
Malik shook his hands quickly to halt their horribly unsynchronized singing, Altair's monotonous sound clashing against Vivian's high-pitched screeching and begged them for mercy, "Please, stop! I understand your well intentioned meaning but please. . .spare my hearing, I beg of you."
They stopped their little Disney tune, bringing intense relief to the dai's eardrums as he'd quickly covered his ears by the end to muffle the horrible noise. He really didn't want to sound mean to his friends and only said it with the best of intentions because those two should never, and he meant never, sing together in the same room. Altaïr protected his awful singing by projecting the blame to her and cocked his head upwards in emphasis to state stiffly, "It was all her idea, I wanted to apologize and buy you a hunting knife. I don't even know half of the words I just said."
Vivian lightly wacked the top of his hooded head to silence him, eliciting a growl from the offended assassin, and dug into the pouches on her assassin belt to fish out his gift. With a giddy grin that almost had her kicking her legs, she waved small asymmetrically cut pieces of papers in the air as she announced proudly, "We come bearing reconciliation gifts!"
Like a horse rider, she clicked her feet over the front of Altaïr's chest to move him forward and yipped happily like a child when he grudgingly obeyed (rather than throwing her off). She might have resembled a child in her overly large getup but she was still a part of his group, warranting some form of respect from him- he still didn't know what type due to her oddness. Vivian leaned forwards to hand her little scrap of papers over to the puzzled Malik, clapping her hands ecstatically to her spontaneous invention, as Altaïr stated flatly, "She made you paper contracts-"
"Coupons" she corrected swiftly before the dai believed she'd given him assassination targets, nudging his left side with the front of her foot. Could he at least put a little effort into his facial expressions rather than sticking with 'dark and foreboding'?
His hands kept her locked in place from falling by holding her thighs but he shook to the sides on his feet to rile her by declaring matter-of-factly, "I don't know what those are!"
Vivian jiggled in place from the force of his erratic shaking, using the heels of her feet to halt his nonviolent protest to dig into his sides to stop his movements. With her current position on his shoulders, she was as vulnerable as a baby seal and had to keep her perch stable for as long as she could because the watchful eagle could topple her in a second. She ignored her fuming comrade as she used the hood of her assassin robe to wipe her damp forehead clean (it's not like she'd use it again), motioning to the slips of paper that Malik read as she explained cheerfully, "They're for you as a show of our endless love-"
"Brotherly love" Altaïr added in for correction since he wasn't the sappy type and kneeled down on the bare ground when he could no longer keep the fidgeting woman on his back. Her ecstatic moving had become bothersome to stabilize with his strength, wanting her off his shoulders immediately, and he grunted roughly with demand, "Get off me, you're crushing my spine!"
"I'm not fat! Even if I was, you should still be able to carry me" she shot back indignantly to his implication of her weight since she only wore her robes with absolutely no armor or weapons. If he deemed her heavy, then he needed to start weightlifting items because Templars were definitely heftier and bulkier than her petite form. Not willing to risk his wrath if she didn't listen, she hopped off quickly and patted the top of his head with thanks for playing as her horse for a few minutes. Who else could add that unique moment into their life journal?
"You assume too much" he snorted dismissively but stood up to ruffle her loose locks, causing a huge dopey smile to cross over her lips for the action. Her spirit lifted considerably to receiving it rather than hearing a scathing comment and didn't bother to brush back her hair from the mere joy of it. She was definitely an Altaïr fan girl again, ready to roam over sand dunes on his back as he played steed to her adventurer. Hmm, she could even make a children's fictional story about Altaïr, the purebred Arabian horse, and his trusty rider, Malik, a gold miner searching for adventure. . .well, if she ever went back home.
"Your vouchers are good throughout the continent of Africa and at Masyaf until this journey is over, mindless conversations may apply" Vivian finished rapidly with a voice fit for infomercials, flashing him a broad white smile, and Malik raised a brow in response to the end of their little show. He really hadn't expected the two to ever pull off something like this- especially Altaïr since the two argued on just about anything. It seemed that both held him in the same light and in the end, brought them together in neutral ground; he didn't know whether that was a good or foreboding thing. He flipped through the strips of paper to find some scribbled in perfectly legit Arabic from Altaïr's skilled hand while others were rows of sloppy scribbles that had been crossed out repeatedly and replaced by Altaïr's legible handwriting. It was plainly obvious that the latter was Vivian's handwriting.
His brow furrowed to her sloppy scribbles on the only paper she managed to write legibly without needing correction by Altaïr and Malik eyed the two skeptically as he asked carefully, "A free hug?"
Altair immediately pointed to Vivian as the culprit to that idea because he wasn't particular to touching and adamantly stated, "Redeemable to Vivian only."
"Free boot shining? Carrying Malik's travel pack for one day? A hair cut?" Malik asked with disbelief to what they'd scribbled down as free courtesies and browsed through each little slip of paper. He was rather curious to what they'd offered in return for forgiveness and couldn't help but accept their kind token since they were all he had at the current moment. They were his sincere friends and as he gazed at them with the bright sun beaming down on them, he couldn't help but forgive the two because they appeared lost already. If he didn't broker peace, he was certain both would end their alliance and start tearing into each other like rabid dogs in no time. At the moment, however, they were two docile puppies awaiting a friend's return.
"We had to think fast and with ten minutes on our hands, I think we did rather well" Vivian replied optimistically to their halfcocked plan since their brains were almost simmering in their own cerebrospinal juices underneath the sun and smiled proudly at Altaïr, who simply shrugged noncommittally. As long as their plan worked, he was perfectly fine with its absurdity. Clasping her hands together, Vivian leaned forward to coax an agreement from her levelheaded friend as she piped up hopefully, "Friendship no longer on pause? We are ready to unleash operation 'extreme puppy eyes' until we sway your choice."
"She is" Altaïr corrected astutely because he'd written several of the strips with his free labor (she should be grateful he gave it) while others were completely of Vivian's mind. That 'coupon' book idea was entirely hers because he maintained a strict two foot radius of personal space with everyone he met, even friends, and stated firmly, "I, however, will maintain the broken shambles of my dignity."
"Friends are a luxury assassins don't often have but you are my strangest friends" he chuckled amicably to their stark personalities and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders to carry onwards towards the pyramids. Malik wasn't picky about his life, grateful to see another day to experience life to its fullest and if he'd been deemed to live out an assassin's life. . .it would do. He carried on with his two friends, no longer angry about being cast out of their fully paid wagon ride and losing out on money they needed for survival, and sighed blissfully, "But you two make life the adventure it should be."
Altaïr shook his head as he was dragged away because he didn't want attention in the first place during his journey and pointed out matter-of-factly, "I didn't appoint myself the center of attention. Danger is simply attracted to me and our profession doubles it."
"You can't deny your charming personality has riots of allies chasing after you either" Vivian chided playfully to his cranky demeanor, cupping her face to bat her lashes in humorous emphasis to his lack of charisma and he pinched her side in rebuttal. He'd learned over the weeks that a simple pinch to her ear or side quieted her rambles rather than using direct orders and as always, it worked like a charm. She yelped immediately to the sharp little nip and batted him away with protesting hands to rub her offended side, "Stop pinching me, I'm not freshly baked dough."
Taking that into consideration, he poked her in the left side of her ribs and she jumped away as he closed in dangerously on an actively ticklish spot. Malik kept the two safely away from each other at arm's length as he dragged them along but Vivian looked to Altaïr to nod in approval. With tightened lips holding back laughter, she raised her chin to declare airily, "Better."
A/N: You can blame the lateness on this chapter on my old dead laptop, which died the day after I uploaded the last chapter on fanfiction. Man, was I glad I posted it after the tragedy that set me back weeks on writing. Anyhow, no important data was lost and my fanfic babies survived unscathed. Hopefully, you guys loved this chapter because I was flying to get it out to you guys and had to cut out the part where Malik was kidnapped. Vivian's interrogation theatrics were borrowed from a scene in the show 'The Boondocks' and Altaïr's swaddling from 'How I Met Your Mother'. My expression was similar to Malik's when my brain farted out the 'Friendship' song but it fit Vivian's chirpy character and Altaïr's extreme reluctance. She's the pretty flower to his sharp cactus in the desert.
Thank you so much for the last chapter reviews, I was so surprised to the number of them and greatly appreciated each one as they humored my heart during my lack of a computer. I'm absolutely ecstatic that you guys love this story!
american pride: Thank you!
ccisawesome99: Altaïr does indeed love cookies and thanks you as he dangles it over Vivian's head in delicious mockery.
papertowel1567: When he embarrasses Vivian, she returns the favor gladly. I remember seeing it on Adventure Time and had to twist it around to match Altaïr and Vivian.
lostwithoutdoubt: Yeah, I have a tendency to describe everything to make sure the reader can imagine what I'm seeing in my head because our creative imagination is what makes a story wonderful. I'm glad you loved it. Vivian's slowly blossoming into her own person to fit the dangerous life of the 1190s. Although she can grate Altaïr's nerves, he's more lenient towards her after learning about her circumstances and that she's only looking for a buddy to keep her laughing rather than going insane.
Marli-chan Tuchanka: Malik and Vivian will usually be the ones teaming up for investigations while Altaïr will head out solo. Of course, they'll drive him insane at camp with their little subtle jabs.
Linda Chicana: Vivian pretty much livens their poor living situation at the moment rather than ride on Altaïr's gloom boat and her references to his past with Maria will have him exploding like a volcano.
Keely: That's okay, life gets in the way and you have to ride it out. I have a few fanfics I should check on too before I forget. Lol. I'm glad a lot of the readers find Vivian as the average girl to befriend, I'm trying to make her as wittily basic as I can.
NeverGoodbyeRoxas: Yep, Vivian will get malik female lovin' while gathering information. He might just be the new James Bond of the 12th century.
ShizukaRen-Hime: Yes, I'm a serious kleptomaniac in gaming too and steal everything that I can- especially if it's tradable for money. When I first played the second game, I remember telling my brother 'it's just like grand theft auto, except this time people don't beat you up and you can go parkour up the buildings or fall in haystacks to escape'. I love your ID avatar, by the way.
DesertPaint: Nah, I won't have them gathering every piece and have her leave in a awing climatic exit- this is Vivian, after all, she'll probably fall in a ditch and totally miss the portal. I'm always trying to think out of the box for Vivian's circumstance but I have the foundation for her exit. I'm glad the humor amuses you, it's what I am for.
starwriter12345: You're so kind for waiting, I was going insane without a computer to type on but luckily, my iPad allowed me to do the first drafts of the chapters after Giza as they enter Sudan.
Anon: Vivian's going to have a few fangirl slips as time progresses because she certainly takes a shine to our grumpy assassin after leaving Giza. I think if she caught sight of Ezio in another time paradox, she'd be imagining a bright light and a singing choir behind him due to his popularity. We'll see more moments of a vulnerable Altaïr because he is human and is trying to learn to become more 'human' so to speak when it comes to interacting with others. He's a man that's only known the order but Vivian will teach him to have fun like a normal everyday person. Thanks for the awesome review!
KITTY LOVES MATTXMELLO: I'm so glad you have many lovable parts out of the story, it tells me I'm on the right track with Altaïr leading the way.
KrnYong: We'll be seeing 'pregnant Vivian' once more in the next chapter as it's her easiest disguise to sway others with and yes, Altaïr should feel honored to have a folded blanket named after him. Lol. Thanks for warning me on Malik's arm, I'd almost forgotten about it and rewrote that part to correct it. Good eye!
bunnehTweed: lol. Altaïr indeed does have his little sweet tooth so hopefully he won't get cavities because I'm sure dentists don't exist yet.
xVentressx: Yep, Vivian can get a little kooky sometimes in the name of friendship, free food, and defeating Templars.
Next Time: The Robin Hood of the 1190s
Malik finished eating his lunch of falafel and chicken kebabs with a satiated smile because the entire walk to the pyramids hadn't been short. By the time they'd arrived, Vivian had toppled over her own two feet and brought the two men down to their knees by pulling on the end of their robes. Their first task had been to replenish their canteens and find the nearest public outhouse, drawing disgust from Vivian to its horrible unkempt condition and smell. Once Altaïr reassured Vivian that she could use the bushes once they were out of Giza, he pried her off his back to find a decent food merchant to buy a snack from.
They had found a very nice shady area to have their meal at, sharing the spot with the food vendor and a water merchant; they couldn't complain to the convenient food access. The shadow provided by the large palm tree allowed him to observe the area more carefully but thankfully, hadn't spotted any wandering Templars that could discover Altaïr due to his robes. If they had, they would've dealt with a very drowsy assassin. He prodded two lumps lying on the floor on their stomachs and both groaned to being poked like meat, comfortable in their spots after taking a short nap. Vivian curled into a ball as the shady area brought relief to her sundrenched skin while Altaïr simply feigned being dead to cool his skin. Malik tried to rouse them from their food induced slumber by informing them, "Time to continue."
With a reluctant grunt, Vivian sat up with an unruly curtain of hair covering her face and absentmindedly reached down to massage her legs for circulation. Her fingers, however, felt the rubbing on her skin receptors but her legs perceived none of the stimuli she gave. Worried, she hit them lightly with clenched fists since she felt absolutely nothing and frantically yelped, "I can't feel my legs, I can't-"
"Those are mine!" Altaïr snapped grimly since her hysterical strikes had definitely caused him to feel it and pushed her aside, sending her fumbling to the other side with her legs fully working. She'd accidentally fallen asleep over his lower body like a cat, ignorant that he'd been lying down on his stomach and had struck his gray breeches which coincidentally matched hers under her robe. Still, he couldn't help himself from adding in a chiding jab as he smirked, "Your vision must've suffered through the walk."
Her cheeks puffed comically but before she could retort her own verbal retaliation to keep their renewed banter going, Malik stood up with a grunt to stretch his tired limbs and declared tiredly, "We carry onwards."
Altaïr glared from his spot on the grass because he was quite comfortable in the shade where he wouldn't bake and although the fate of the world rested on his shoulders. . .he really wanted five more minutes. Malik had never seen his friend reluctant to move from a spot but the heat they'd endured caused him to immediately cloister himself to the shade. Raising his chin like the majestic proud eagle that he was, he closed his eyes to exhale softly but clearly, "I'm leader, I get to say it."
Malik won the battle of wits by fishing out his wad of coupons from a pocket hidden within the inside lining of his robe, waving the papers like a prize, and smugly declared, "I have a coupon."
"Go right on ahead then" the grand master allowed immediately to grant his friend complete control of their travel, yawning with laziness of a lion as he stood up on his reluctant legs. They'd been enjoying their rest but their duty called and it was a beacon they couldn't ignore. He didn't have doubts about putting Malik in charge during an important mission since he'd been the first that tried to screw his head back in its rightful place back in Solomon's Temple so he knew his friend wouldn't lead him astray. On the other hand, if Vivian were holding that coupon, he would've ripped it in half before he let her lead them anywhere. She'd more than likely send them crashing into a ditch.
"So, what are our ideas in the pool to begin this search?" Malik began optimistically to summon pep out of the lethargic duo because they would need energy to investigate their entry into the pyramids. Vivian quickly rubbed away any spit lingering on the corner of her lips before she appeared more unkempt and brushed back her hair with hasty fingers (which sorely needed brushing). Altaïr didn't need any help in the looks department since he dominated the 'ruggedly handsome' style without even trying, shaking his head to her shabby appearance. She merely stuck out her tongue since touching him in public would have all eyes on her and shuffled her feet over the dirt because no, she wasn't pleasing to the eye at all times- those were Sue characteristics. Hmm, had Ubisoft somehow given him a tiny dash of Gary Stu-ness? No, she wouldn't dare think of it!
Prying herself out of her fangirl thoughts, she threw her mind into the discussion and chucked out her ideas with a lively smile, "We need a guide. . .someone who knows every level of this pyramid, someone who's in their prime and smart but not physically able to defeat us if they backstab us-"
"We'll be here forever at that rate" Altaïr snorted to her pickiness but privately, agreed to those traits because criminals lurked everywhere nowadays. War always brought the worst and the best in people; unfortunately, they lured in the former in droves. Vivian had briefly told him a descendant would one day use guilds of other professions to provide distractions and he almost blacked out in mortified unconsciousness when she said harlots. Altaïr, however, didn't see the need of it at this particular moment in time. Assassins worked in the shadows as one or with the brotherhood, nobody else; they could not dare to risk themselves.
That mindset brought his attention over to Vivian, who was counting off her fingers in the most uneducated manner possible, and realized with dismay, Yet again, look at me. I don't. . .I really want to know what manner of creature sent her here. I truly thought she was a foe but now that I see I was wrong, should I be worried for the mayhem she brings with her 'helpful' friendship? The ways of the future folk are not for me.
My grateful thanks to each of you that read my story and feel free to drop a review, Altaïr thrives on the love while Vivian and Malik remind him they share the spotlight too. ;)