Altaïr and Vivian's Aunt Flo
"I will head out in two days after the pyramid incident settles down since the Raj and Templar forces have been decimated" Amon promised as he stood on the riverbank in his gray thief garb, his rugged and sharp features hidden from anyone just as Altaïr's. In Vivian's opinion, hoods made almost any man twice as attractive in this time era and wondered if it worked the same for women to utilize it in her personas. The thief had come to say his farewells to the group as they packed their items into their trusty canoe to leave for Uganda. It would be a very long trip for the three and they had gathered all of the supplies that they could take to ensure their survival for a month in case game was bad.
Vivian had packed leftover food from the inn to take on their journey because they'd no idea where settlements would be, except for a few that Amon had kindly marked on a map for them. The morning was still early as the sky had barely turned its sky blue with thin feathery clouds that lingered from the night and the river was void of visitors, privy only to fishermen heading out for the day's catch. The empty area filled her heart with melancholy since she'd come to like Giza, its beautiful architecture, and wished they could've spent more time to bond further with Amon and his people. She didn't even get to walk over the sandy hill that would one day be uncovered to reveal the mysterious sphinx.
"If you plan to head to these settlements, I can forward your mail with the messengers and I'll be delivering those you gave me to your order" Amon suggested helpfully and Altaïr nodded since the bird carriers failed to reach him once they entered Cairo. The last letter he'd received had been an update on fortifying their order, making sure nobody turned traitorous, recruiting a few members, and the end of the Third Crusade (a huge relief since he didn't want his people targeted). Oh, and his falcon had almost bitten off one of Bashir's fingers but that was normal.
"There's nothing cooler than thief mail" Vivian sighed dreamily since rogues and wizards were always her favorite RPG classes to play since they could do things she'd never dreamed of. Plus, she could only imagine the coolest flexible maneuvers they'd perform to simply deliver a letter. Altaïr aimed a deadpan stare in her direction for her ridiculous comment because thieves were not 'cool' in his book and she shrugged meekly to justify, "They use catchy monikers: dove, sparrow, m'lady, lass, kitten-"
"Being named after animals is alluring? What is wrong with your generation?" he asked incredulously because this was news to him. . .or maybe Vivian's generation was a little touched in the head. Then again, he'd never actually had a sound romantic relationship in his life so he wasn't the number one mentor to dish out advice- not that he would, that was more of a female thing.
Vivian shrugged noncommittally since she only took herself into account (everybody was different, after all) and admitted easily, "Eh, to each her own, I guess. Your awesomeness is apparently enough to get you laid without romantic innuendo, it seems."
Since he lacked anything to stuff her mouth with, he whacked her on the butt with the paddle to get her moving into the boat. Like a feisty badger that refused to die, she hissed irately and settled into the floating boat to arrange their things for the ride south. He suddenly remembered the only thing he loved about riding down the Nile: his ability to whack her with the oar to silence her ramblings and reign supreme. Looking to the thief, who raised a brow in amusement to their antics, Altaïr added in, "If anything happens to arrive in a box, destroy it with fire. It will most likely be defunct gadgets that will cause severe bodily harm rather than help. I like to keep the casualties from my inventors to my allies at a minimum."
Malik shook Amon's hand for the help he'd provided them against the Templars and stated amicably, "Be safe on your trip north, may Allah watch over you. Your help will provide extra leverage against these men and I hope to meet you again soon without a fight being involved."
"Where's the fun in that?" the thief chuckled softly since fate worked in mysterious ways and waved a hand in farewell towards Vivian. The woman's peppy demeanor had helped broker peace since her leader's attitude was not initially peaceful but his hunch to believe them paid off wonderfully. The poor districts would no longer suffer under the Raj thieves' greediness and he smiled at the woman who rubbed her wet behind, "It's a shame you must leave, your skills would've been perfect in my team. You have potential, young one."
"Well, someone has to keep this one in line" she joked wittily with a cheeky smile and flicked a thumb towards Altaïr, yelping when he smacked her leg with the wet oar. Another dark blotch covered her robes to add further embarrassment but she turned the negative into a positive, irking the assassin when she shot back smugly, "My boiling skin thanks you."
Amon glanced at the dai, a smirk visible underneath his gray hood since the two never ceased to engage each other in banter and commented, "You will have your hands full with these two."
"It's astounding how quickly I became a father of two" Malik agreed dryly with humor glinting in his eyes and while Vivian flashed him a cheshire smile full of pride for being deemed a 'child' of his, Altaïr bristled under the hood. What AC fan wouldn't want to be the unofficial child of an awesome dai that could parkour and climb with one arm alone? She'd rather be in Malik's wise hands (student-wise, of course) rather than Altaïr's because the latter man would send her careening into the nearest mud pit.
"Time to leave, we all have places to be and I want to conquer this watery river of death quickly" Altaïr ordered tightly as he handed an oar to Vivian, shuffling his team inside the canoe hastily to resume their old mode of transportation again. He pushed the boat into the water, having no issue with the entire weight and ignored Malik's scolding about lacking a decent warning as he caught his balance. Vivian helped her friend settle into the canoe before he fell overboard in Altaïr's haste and yelped indignantly when the assassin almost stepped over her leg when he jumped inside, biting her tongue over a few choice words. Would a simple 'pardon' be too much? She and Malik glared daggers into his back as they became baggage in his wake and Altaïr called over his left shoulder, "Good luck, Amon. May safety follow your path."
The thief stepped forward before Altaïr rowed off with the power of a steam boat, his leather boots splashing in the shallow water, and handed a small bag to Vivian with a friendly smile, "You've been very kind despite the general outlook on my profession and wanted to thank you for giving us food and loot that will keep us well fed for a few weeks. These are basboosa, sweet lemon bread popular in Egypt, and I added a few bags of beans and lentils to help you on your journey."
Vivian took it with a grateful smile, joyed that kindness did have its own rewards in this time and wagged her brows knowingly at Altaïr to point out that Egyptian hospitality was nice. She felt a metal pot holding the items inside and her perplexed look led Amon to inform with a sneaky smile that betrayed his nonchalant voice, "I took the liberty of borrowing a pot from a vendor in an upscale shop since yours is horribly tarnished."
Altaïr raised his left eyebrow with silent demand to know how the man knew about the old pot he'd given Vivian to use since leaving Masyaf. Being an assassin, he'd grown up to learn to hunt his own food and cook it over a glowing fire pit as the prey hung by a stick to roast to perfection. He'd given the pot to the woman as a freebie to stop her incessant nagging about decent food but constant use turned the pot scuffed, dull, and dented (he'd chucked it in a fit of rage during their early days). While Vivian curiously opened the bag to find their new gift, Altaïr asked skeptically, "How did you know?"
"I'm a thief, I know these things" he replied simply with a mischievous smile that reminded Altaïr to check his bags and the man laughed with amusement to his guarded expression. Vivian, however, was ecstatic to have new cookware since they used their heavy pot on a daily basis for just about anything. The only time they used their other pans was when they slept at an inn and used the kitchen to make their own meals.
"Be careful, I plan on learning skills the next time we meet" Vivian piped up optimistically as she grabbed the paddle to row the boat into the water and resume their super-fantastic POE mission. She didn't know if she'd be able to keep her promise with the news that Madagascar would allow her return home but kept the door open because the unexpected could happen. They were still a long way from that island in the Indian Ocean so she'd be spending the next year or so alongside the assassin duo . . . she could only wonder whether she or Altaïr would be driven to madness first.
They left the thief on the riverbank, Vivian glancing back to give him one last farewell wave of the hand and thanking him for the helpful gift. She had quite the interesting adventure in the ancient city of the pharaohs and had made a new friend along the way, something she hadn't counted on. Forming new bonds made her uneasy for the first time in her life since her presence in their realm would end one day and everything would have to be left behind. She didn't know how she'd cope when her two companions would no longer exist in her time or dimension. They had become a part of daily life for the past month and if Madagascar was her lottery ticket home, she'd better start preparing for her goodbyes once they landed.
"Vivian, would you kindly row the boat instead of daydreaming?" Altaïr's waspish voice burst into her head and she sighed exasperatedly to obey, knowing he was in cranky mode once more. The man had a morning crankiness that carried the fury of a thousand bears and wolverines put together. If the Nile wasn't dangerous and she knew whether he could swim, she would've chucked him out for a splash to cool his hot head. Instead, she had returned to resume her role of paddler pusher #2 on the ride to Lake Victoria.
She decided to regale him with sweet justice for his grumpy Gus demeanor and smiled sweetly, "Sing 'row your boat', you say? Why, of course, kind sir! Row, row, row your boat-"
Altaïr objected loudly over the river current but could do nothing since Malik sat in the center, ignoring them completely by reading a book, and Vivian sang the old melody.
Back at Masyaf, Syria. . .
Maria had never felt more uncomfortable than she did the following morning of her arrival, not even the end of her first marriage brought this much disconcerting unease. All eyes had been on her since she first entered the large fortress and she kept her gaze downcast to prove that she meant no harm, staying out of the assassins' way to maintain her own safety. After endless traveling and avoiding Templars with a death warrant on her head throughout three countries, she'd been thankful for a safe roof over her head the previous night. Of course, she kept a dagger hidden underneath her pillow in case anyone tried to secretly get rid of her by disobeying Ilias.
Masyaf wasn't her first choice for protection but her tryst with Altaïr had left behind a nonreturnable gift that she wasn't keen on upon discovering it. Maria had never seen herself as a maternal person, her own childhood of growing up proper and her ultimate disobedience being a prime example as to why she shouldn't be. Her profession had grown dangerous after crossing the Templars and realizing she was carrying an assassin's child rose that bounty on her life if anybody spotted her. She'd made it quite clear to Altaïr that their close partnership was only for stress relief and the comfort it brought from physical companionship but she wouldn't delve deeper to an emotional level. These were dangerous times and she wanted to redefine her role in the world while simultaneously causing a dent in the Templar order, there was no time for romance when an hour could mean life or death for you. The assassins would never trust her and adventuring solo or with him tow would help keep her hidden from her enemies.
When she'd made the journey to Masyaf, she'd expected Altaïr to be there since everything had been assassinate this and 'the creed' that- it was a little unnerving how deeply intertwined his life was to the cause. Again, he'd admitted that it was all he'd known since birth whereas she'd joined the Templars as an adult and it allowed her to break free of their chains. For the past five years, she'd been trying to find who she was since leaving her family and how she fitted in the turbulent world around her but settling down to rear a child was not her first choice. Unfortunately, fate had other plans for her.
Abbas and a few other assassins had let slide a few choice words for her as she'd wandered the grounds after breakfast to read. What else could she do now that she was pregnant, weaponless, and bound to the fortress? The entire meal had been uncomfortable as everyone's eyes had darted to her at least once and Ilias had kindly introduced her to the entire order to quell the rumors (Maria was sure it started another load). The man substituting as leader was not as cold as she'd originally assumed with his strong features and calm expression, deciding to put her trust in him. All she needed was a sanctuary to birth her child and after that . . . well, she would plan for that when the time came. If Altaïr happened to return by that time, she would inform him but she wanted to keep their child safe from harm and away from what their parents did for a living.
"Greetings to you, Maria" a cheerful voice erupted from up ahead and her gaze left the book in her hands to find a young man in his early 20's smiling at her, a brown falcon perched on his left shoulder where a leather spauldron was tied on for protection. She'd caught sight of the assassin around Masyaf, his demeanor utterly polite as he sat by himself during mealtime with books and scrolls in hand. Not many had approached him but she'd heard a few jokes in his direction as he preferred staying inside Masyaf rather than heading out on assignments.
The assassin greeted her with a small nod, placing a hand over his chest in the classical fashion and maintained eye contact as he stated, "A piece of advice, maintaining eye contact with us shows respect while none is seen as very rude. I am Bashir."
It seemed she would have to learn a few customs here.
"Hello" she stated awkwardly since she'd never expected anyone to really talk to her, slowly closing her book to assess the new situation. With her reputation spreading through the fortress like a wildfire, she was certain everyone would be staying leagues away from her. She'd never really been a chatty type since women of her land were worried more about suitors for marriage and beauty than exploring the world and finding their passion in life. Men in the Templar order were worse as they stuck to orders only and with women being seen rather than heard, she was always on her own. The gazes of both the assassin and falcon caused her to hesitate with uncertainty but spoke honestly, "I must admit that I didn't expect anyone to approach me and my conversation skills aren't the best, given my previous occupation."
"It's no problem, Ilias has promised your safety and the brotherhood will obey Altaïr's wishes" Bashir replied earnestly with a friendly smile and Rafiki's wings fluttered in honor to his master. Despite most members of the order saw his plans and inventions as useless, Altaïr listened to his reasoning to see which items were worth making a prototype for.
"Where is Altaïr? I didn't have time to ask Ilias yesterday, the walk to Masyaf was murder and I'm ashamed to say I fell asleep instantly" she spoke softly since the lack of decent sleep while moving from place to place had accumulated until she slept the entire day and a half to unload the entire burden. Her first meeting with Ilias had consisted of her debriefing a few important facts on Templar movements across the Mediterranean as she stuck close to the coast in case she needed to flee by either land or water. After making true on her word, she'd been shown her new quarters for the rest of her stay and had secured it against trespassers so she could sleep easy. She'd originally expected a tiny broom closet due to her old affiliations but received a decent room where she could pace around and the furnishings were better than what she'd used in the past year (which was none).
He gazed at the clear azure sky to outline a few birds riding the thermals and answered simply, "He's in the African continent on a mission with another of our brothers and a foreigner for two years, at the least. I can only assume he's passed into Egypt by now since his letters stopped arriving and he wrote as such in the last."
"I hope for his safety then" she stated with a light furrow of her brows because two year would be quite a time and her child would be due in six months or so. By that time, she hoped to have her next plans formulated since motherhood unnerved her but would take full responsibility. As for Altaïr, she'd never exactly had a relationship with the man to begin with but he'd fathered her child . . . what had she stepped into? Being an unwed mother would not bode well for her in this region- or any, for that matter- and hoped Altaïr would have better ideas on how to handle the situation.
"Did Ilias give you a tour of the grounds?" he asked kindly as he motioned to the large fortress that encased them on top of the mountain. She shook her head since she'd only met with Ilias before finding her room, too exhausted to wander the grounds, and simply asked where the bathroom and kitchen were located. Bashir, always eager to do his grand master's bidding (all within Masyaf), ushered her forward with a friendly wave of the hand and smiled proudly towards the ancient citadel, "Come, I will acquaint you to your new home."
Maria wasn't entirely sure on that part until she could ensure a safer home for her child but right now, it was all she had.
"Given your condition, I imagine you need new fabric for sewing?" Bashir spoke up casually as she stood up with a small frown at her feet, which would be swelling in a few hours, and gave him another nod. She actually hadn't had much time to find anything decent, patching up similar color robes to stretch out the waistline to support her changing body. Being on the run took away certain luxuries but if she could find a good roll of stretchable fabric, she'd be glad for it. The young inventor headed towards the main gates with his falcon partner on the shoulder, rambling on cheerfully, "We will visit the village below, Ilias has a deal with the tailor for all of our fabrics and I'm sure he'll allow the purchase. They have very nice options in my opinion but for some reason, Altaïr always heads to Damascus for his own tailoring. He always seems to dress a little better than us and with his silver tongue, I'm certain he can bargain."
Maria followed him quietly, her face shifting from her calm mask to amusement because Bashir was an animated talker as he headed for the gardens of the fortress. She was new to this place but hopefully, she would find her safe foothold there.
That is, if she didn't break an ankle descending the hundreds of steps down towards the village first.
In the outskirts of current day Minya, Egypt. . .
Vivian counted herself lucky that she was currently on water travel, thanking her lucky stars a million times that her current predicament didn't begin back in Giza. In fact, lucky was the least she could call it because it was a blessing! It all started on one fine morning when the chirpy tweeting of birds woke her up in horrible pain and she realized, with great embarrassing horror, that her monthly visitor had reared its ugly head. Why, oh, why was she stranded in time with that physiological time bomb? It was times like this that she yearned to be a man so she could avoid that iffy subject altogether since she traveled with men who knew nothing about it!
The fact that her sleeping gown and bedroll became stained during the night didn't help matters in the slightest when she scrambled to her pack to fish out the items she'd prepared ahead of time. When a modern day girl was lost in time, she would not procrastinate on important things like this. . .especially when in the company of a suspicious assassin that had the efficiency of the Terminator. There was a reason she scampered over to hygienic stands during travel and spent her meager coin on whatever she could stock up on to avoid any embarrassing incidents.
With her heart jumping in her throat, she'd practically flown to the river with her items to wash her gown squeaky clean and tidied her poor appearance before someone caught her. Otherwise, she'd have a very hard time explaining that she hadn't been stabbed or killed someone while taking a stroll to the riverbank. After that short crisis was averted, she returned back to camp with a mixture of horrible symptoms to find the bloodhound known as Altaïr making rounds around camp. Why had he picked this precise time frame to make his perimeter scans? Hollywood couldn't make films this suspenseful- okay, well, maybe Jaws. . .but this came rather close!
Quickly, she fought down the sharp pain that jolted to her abdomen as she met him before he could wander into her tent and piped up cheerfully, "Good morning, fellow adventurer-"
"Where have you been?" he demanded suspiciously as he spotted the bundle of ruffled clothes in her arms and she smiled innocently, quickly mumbling out she'd showered. This, of course, set off alarms in his mind because her hair was dry as hay and she wasn't shivering in the slightest. She headed into her tent hastily, dumping her items to the side carelessly as she dove for her bedroll to hide it but Altaïr's perfect vision caught sight of the crimson spot.
Why was that there?!
Before she could fold the roll in half to hide it, he was pulling on her left leg to reveal what she'd hidden from him but she wasn't budging. She defied his pulling with the ferociousness of a badger because she wasn't ready to face further mortification under his scrutiny. He grit his teeth to her audacity as he tugged the feisty woman with all of his might to pull her away and he snapped sharply, "What happened? Who or what harmed you? Where are they? Answer or-"
"Let go, you Balrog of Morgoth!" she hissed defiantly to his irate demands and wiggled both legs to break free, remembering their antagonistic night at the inn. The assassin shook her one more time before dropping her onto her bed and she turned the roll over to its squeaky clean side. Could this become any more mortifying? Scratch that, she didn't want to jinx it and have Malik burst in with the same flurry of questions. Curiosity glimmered in her eyes since she could've pinned the blame on killing an intruding animal (not that he'd believe her) and she asked, "Wait, why'd you think I was hurt?"
"I heard shuffling and running towards the bank, I was sewing a pair of trousers when I heard it" he explained matter-of-factly between thinned lips that clearly showed he wanted answers and wasn't handing out his own. After all, he stumbled onto this unexpected scene and required answers as the troop leader rather than a runaround. He waved an indignant finger to point at the offending bedroll that had branded a permanent picture into his brain and snapped firmly, "Not to mention, that puddle right there that's very hard to ignore!"
Vivian smiled impishly at the image of him sewing because she'd never seen him do such a thing since they started traveling, only cleaning and hunting. He didn't like that cunning little smile on her face since she was crafty at avoiding topics and she teased with a sweet voice, "Isn't that cute? I didn't think you could sew."
"Woman, there's a lot of things you don't know that could fill a library" he retorted back because most traveling men knew a thing or two about sewing clothing, especially when being a bachelor. Otherwise, they'd stumble into towns with ragged clothing and falling pieces of cloth- a look that the assassin would never be caught dead with. Besides, that little smile of hers challenged him to stay sharp on his toes with a verbal comeback but her jabs had become playful and less embarrassing than before. He didn't feel the need to defend himself against the strange time traveler anymore and Malik's words ran through his head. Was he truly becoming her friend?. . .Where was a hard drink when he needed one?
"Yet this head managed to solve a temple's brain puzzle" she chided mischievously as she clung for dear life onto the bedroll but he frowned deeply to steer her back to the main topic. She was a stubborn donkey when she didn't want to delve into an issue and a crafty falcon when she wanted to run circles around her enemies to confuse them (she accomplished that with her babblings alone). Her smile faltered as she avoided his gaze throughout the entire exchange and he noticed for the first time that her ears were red at the top. She sighed softly as her avoidance hit a dead end, hastily putting away the bedroll for later cleaning away from everyone's eyes, and admitted modestly, "I'm not hurt. My, uh, my monthly menses is here-"
At this, the assassin reared back as if he'd been bitten into by an invisible foe and she found his horrified expression amusing as his balance faltered for a split second. Well, even the mighty Altaïr was unsettled like any normal man about that specific topic. She chuckled softly as his face reminded her of home, the familiar flicker of human unease settling her nerves and chided gently, "Stop that, you look like my father when I told him for the very first time. Even time doesn't change that look."
"Well, do you need medicine to stop it? A dark hut for isolation? Angle your tent towards the moon? A cleansing ritual?" he asked awkwardly in hurried rambles to wrap up the topic before he became more involved than he needed to. This was not what he'd expected; he would've preferred an animal bite to this! Women were modest beings that kept those topics between themselves and he wasn't keen on discovering further facts on what went on within their bodies. Vivian could only stare at him in disbelief to the outrageous suggestions that made absolutely no sense to her modern mindset and he admitted glumly with great reluctance, "I've never been exposed to this in my life."
"You traveled with Maria for many months" she pointed out quickly because she highly doubted the ex-Templar discovered hormonal suppression in that era and she was too young to hit menopause. For all of his great skills, Altaïr lacked socializing with women on such topics because society placed a stigma on publicly disclosing anything private. Of course, the time traveler had to twist his life upside down in the most uncomfortable way that morning and he resisted the urge to bolt.
"She was very quiet about those things, all women are!" he snapped back with a tone that sounded almost hysterical to her ears and Vivian felt all of her initial embarrassment leaving her. The man was completely innocent in the inner workings of womankind and smiled widely with mirth, laughing into her hands but stopped when the motion hurt her belly. Nuts, now she wouldn't be able to joke around and laugh like the jolly little jester she was. Altaïr was not amused by her delight to his lack of knowledge, wanting to wash away that little grin and stated stiffly, "It's not normal to me, Vivian."
"I know, it's a different age but I'm glad we're over water" she soothed gently since her bodily functions should be the last thing on Earth the assassin should worry about. This was not part of the adventure package she'd signed onto when she landed on that unknown doorstep a month ago in Jerusalem but thanked lady luck that he wasn't prying her for further information (he wouldn't dare). It was a good thing that his future didn't involve daughters or he'd have a heart attack when his first announced it.
Altaïr decided to guess on this one because he had nothing else to lose but his dignity and supplied, "Water ends it?"
"No, I have seven days to deal with this" she shot back with another bout of laughter to his first assumption that she could turn it off and on like a sink faucet. If womankind could do so, they'd choose to stretch it all throughout the year and pause for a few months. She'd never have expected to have a chat like this with him of all people- he was the epitome of heroic badassery- and couldn't help but laugh at the humorous situation they'd fallen into.
"How do you not die from the continuous . . . you know?!" he exclaimed with mortified shock to that new knowledge and she buried her head in her hands, struggling not to laugh at his bewildered expression. Never in her life did she imagine herself having this conversation with him and his face. . .he was caught between horror and dismay. Well, at least she'd managed to pry a look besides his normal 'brooding' and 'cranky'. Altaïr shook his head with a flabbergasted sigh because a week was quite long for a woman of Vivian's petite frame to endure such a thing. The human body could be quite strange and baffling sometimes.
"Keep it down in there!" Malik hollered over from his spot in camp as Altaïr's shrill voice had carried over and woken him up from a perfect dream where he'd been painting over a cliff in Greece. Why was it that he was disrupted from the most calming of dreams by Altaïr only? He needed to make linen strips to stuff into his ears to block out his indignant exclamations next time. Unlike his distressed friend, he knew about the issues currently tormenting poor Vivian and smirked in his comfy bed at the hilarity Altaïr was enduring.
Altaïr appeared as if he'd swallowed a whole sour lemon, the scar on his lips becoming more visible as his lips curled in distaste. Vivian rolled her eyes to the drama queen because he wasn't the one bearing this burden (for seven days every month) and spoke earnestly, "I'll live so relax. The only thing is that my menses-"
"Don't say it" he cringed visibly as his shoulders stiffened and she chucked a pair of black trousers in his direction. He dodged them easily with a frown in case they were unsanitary and sidestepped away from them, drawing narrowed eyes from Vivian. What, were periods contagious now?
"Are quite painful to the point it's a medical condition so I wanted to ask if we could find camp earlier than usual?" she requested meekly since her habits would have to change according to that time frame. She could no longer chug down prescribed painkillers to sleep it all off or use her handy heat pack since that technology was as undiscovered as a new species in that land. Her fingers trailed through her hair to brush the unkempt tresses and appear presentable in the early morning, glumly sighing under her breath, "The lack of modern medicine will make this unbearable for the first two days and I'll be dizzy, nauseous, vomiting, aching, and cranky with headaches. If I seem angrier and cruel, blame whoever or whatever created womankind because I don't truly mean it."
"You're throwing a lot at me, Vivian" he grumbled quietly to what she'd unloaded on him, wishing he'd had breakfast before facing this new development, and she smiled sweetly to sway his opinion. Although, with her ruffled appearance, it wasn't her best attempt. He threw his hands up because he knew there was no way he'd win this one and she'd earned a boon after her help at the pyramid, sighing dramatically, "By the stars, you look like a puppy and I can't crush puppies- no matter how ugly."
Ignoring her protesting 'hey' to the comparison, he continued with his new orders but his voice faltered uneasily on the touchy subject, "Don't strain yourself and do whatever you need to. . .just keep it quiet and hidden. I don't need to know what goes on. . .down there."
She shooed him out of her tent, grateful for the agreement, and smirked impishly, "You're going to make a fantastic husband someday with that bedside manner."
"You'll find I'm the most liberal man in this era" he defended primly since matters like those were spoken mainly by women, if at all, while men ignored it. They were private issues that only concerned the individual but he could understand Vivian's views because sometimes, you had questions and others could have the answers. Unfortunately, she'd landed in the wrong era and he could only offer her privacy (and condolences) to make her more comfortable.
She shook her head with amusement to his insistence and couldn't help but chide him one last time, "Nah, I think Malik holds that title- he lets me roam."
"Ha!" the dai's voice echoed as he heard everything, leading Altaïr to scowl for being left as second. Maybe it was a good thing that game business in Vivian's time focused solely on his line, Malik would've threatened to nudge him out as favorite.
By the evening, Vivian cursed whatever forces of science had brought her there and had snapped out a few choice words for those ancient beings that refused to give her answers. Why couldn't medicine be more advanced in the 12th century? Malik and Altaïr ignored the outbursts that could be heard throughout camp, giving her that outlet to pent out frustrations.
"I'm burning in a cold desert" she grumbled under her breath but the temperature was better compared to earlier in the day during rowing when she'd been scorching. She'd tried to help but Altaïr had quickly reprimanded that he didn't need her bleeding to death, embarrassing the poor woman in her corner. Her upbeat humorous nature took a backseat as nausea and discomfort took the forefront, removing the usual jovial mood during travel. Malik found it odd while Altaïr found it wonderful, leading the dai to fill in her spot by talking aloud about their recent Egyptian adventures. Vivian could only find the most holistic and quietest ways to take care of herself without raising concern, missing her sisters for company more than ever since two male assassins didn't help her poor case. She growled under her breath as she lay on her clean bedroll inside her private tent, grumpy about the whole situation as she yearned longingly, "All I ask is for extra strength Advil. . .or a decent sleeping pill."
Her right palm slapped the ground as it blindly searched for the bowl of tea she made from anise and chamomile plants she'd bought back in the markets. It had helped to dull the pain but heating a rag in boiling water continuously brought her nothing, except for wet skin and damp clothing. She'd never felt so fussy in her life and hated the feeling of being anything but calm and cheerful- it was her core personality! Her walk of shame had been walking to camp like the unlucky hunchback of Notre dame, leading Altaïr to haul her multiple packs in one hand alone, and come back for her when he realized she'd barely walked halfway. He'd teased her relentlessly as she'd clung onto his back like a baby koala but remained eternally thankful for the generous piggyback ride.
"Back To The Future made this look so easy" she groaned miserably as she stared at the brown ceiling of her tent, the wax candle sitting in its copper holder and providing light. How did women with dysmenorrhea bear it in the 1190s? If she wasn't in so much pain, she'd roll around to be rid of the heat burning her up from the inside and fussed against her makeshift pillow with an unfeminine grunt, "There's no way you can live here with menstrual comfort, ridiculously pretty Mary Sue's can kiss my ass back to the Stone Age because they'd mourn horribly if they existed here like me."
"I think you've gone insane" a low deep voice spoke from the entrance of her tent and she quickly pulled her sleeping tunic down to cover her stomach to maintain a decent appearance. Just because she felt like a creature ready to be put out of its misery didn't mean she had to ignore manners and norms. She'd pulled the sleeves of the tunic to her shoulders and raised the leg of her pants to the knees as her skin felt flush despite the cool temperature but could do nothing about them as he entered the tent. He paused for a moment to make sure it was safe to venture into the dragon's lair and his eyes lingered on her legs as she lay curled in a fetal position on her bedroll. There was a large bowl filled with tea and another with boiling water for a compress (which he could see had reddened her face with its temperature) while her blankets lay crumpled at the entrance of the tent, stepping over them to prevent tripping. Vivian blew a raspberry to his silent staring because today was not a day for judgment as femininity was flushed down a figurative toilet.
"Yes, my legs are hairy and blinding you with their nakedness but they're simply legs!" she declared languidly with a small sigh as her back ached, knowing there was absolutely no allure in her current form to draw any sane man. The legs just added that cherry on top. It wasn't her fault she'd become lazy in shaving her legs with a knife when nobody really cared about limbs that never saw the light of day. There was no level for the embarrassment of being seen by the assassin of all assassins but at this hour of the night- what time was it anyway?- she didn't care at all. Her left hand motioned to his covered legs underneath the white robes and she pouted woefully to sigh with a dreamy tone, "I bet your legs are prettier, perfectly toned and assassiny with manly hair that hopefully surpasses mine."
He smirked to her descriptive words since compliments about one's physical appearance by the opposite gender automatically warranted interest in courting in his culture but heavily doubted Vivian knew that. Also, her mind wasn't exactly in its normal eccentric range since the morning and he pointed out simply with a snort, "That's not even word."
"Tell that to whoever decided to drop me here where modern medicine is lacking, I'd kick you in the balls just for one 600mg ibuprofen pill" she declared woefully with a whimper that matched a newborn puppy and gulped her batch of tea, timing each cup carefully to make sure no overdoses occurred. He glared for the rude comment because every man was particularly protective of that area, even in verbal form, and watched her face shift from frumpiness to regret. Vivian didn't mean for her joke to come off anywhere near insulting and groaned pitifully to apologize, "Sorry, internal rage makes you say crazy things- I'd be too fearful to even say that on a normal day. If I start bawling or spilling secrets, please run and never mention it for the rest of our lives."
On that note, they were both in agreement and the assassin stated with an awkward but honest voice, "For the first time, I pity you and your female physiology. Never have I been so grateful to be born a man."
She aimed a deadpan stare that he just knew was stabbing him behind those narrowed eyes and Vivian grumbled miserably against her makeshift pillow, "If those words came from any other person, they'd have a fork in their eye."
Altaïr decided that he wanted to stay on her hormone induced happy side for the week and lifted a wooden plate that he carried in his hands to explain his visit, "Regardless of that, I brought you supper."
"That's more of Malik's persona than yours but thanks" she said earnestly with a tired smile and thanked him when he helped her sit up with a steady hand, placing the warm plate in her lap. Lying on the floor while staring at the ceiling hadn't really given her a good look of the assassin which is why she'd started commenting on his legs- he really did have very nice leather boots. She'd almost forgotten she hadn't eaten anything since morning and couldn't hold it off any longer at the risk of hypoglycemia and lack of energy. Roasted pheasant (thank goodness Malik managed to hoard the spices), a pile of lentils, and a piece of hard cheese were on the plate, leading her rub her hands gratefully that he'd stopped by. The food smelled and looked delicious but her current condition gave her no appetite but she ate nonetheless, taking slow calculated bites to balance out her shabby appearance.
"After seeing you barf over the river more than me, I figured you needed this" he stated sympathetically as she'd broken his daily record and had torn the paddles from her grip before she worsened. He stared in disbelief when she devoured the meal with none of the polite table manner she held when they all ate together, casting aside propriety as Vivian realized she was starving! As much as she wanted to impress the man like a dainty woman of the Middle Ages, she reasoned that she'd lost major points that morning upon admitting everything and could bear to hit rock bottom. Being a man that wasn't communicative in facial expression or thoughts, he couldn't help but admit listlessly, "The limits of the female body astound me."
"Buddy, I'm as surprised as you" she agreed wholeheartedly because the body of women dealt with physiological events that left her baffled. She'd cried when her mother first explained the entire process of childbirth after health classes yielded no help and seeing it on the Discovery channel years later. . .she'd curled into a ball. Biting into the crumbly hard cheese, she aimed the bitten portion in his direction as she declared with newfound pride, "I have a whole new outlook for the women of this time, I could even write a paper about interpersonal communication based on culture alone! Not only are we oppressed, discriminated, and barred from a good education with humane civil rights but we lack decent medicine to bear these toils of life," he thinned his lips when she scratched a spot on her back like a drunk as she continued her praises, "I am completely humbled and will nag my gender when they declare that they have it bad in my part of the country. You can walk to a store within an hour and buy tampons and painkillers without trouble or shame, not to mention the wonders of prescription drugs. I have to make everything my bare hands, Altaïr-"
"You're rambling into madness" he warned her with a snort before she delved further into the female body and she stopped immediately, breathing deeply to calm herself and wolfed down the last of her lentils.
"Can I get a tummy rub then?" she attempted to joke to feel like her old self again and finished eating her cheese to complete the meal. He shook his head with a negative because he'd never do such a thing under any circumstance and a flicker of a smile lit her face. Placing the plate aside, she lay down on her side again to soothe her aching muscles (happy for a full stomach in accompaniment) and sighed with relief to her comfy bedding, "I bet Wookies would love those, even Yoda. Best they are, tummy rubs."
Altaïr realized he'd be seeing this part of Vivian every month for a year and almost felt faint at the dreadful thought of replaying the same scenarios. She was a regular spitfire when he riled her under normal circumstances and wondered what beast lurked under that natural bloodletting of hers. Vivian noticed his piercing stare from her spot, his expression similar to a leopard that was deciding whether a nearby lioness would attack it, and smiled faintly, "I'm not going to turn into a bloodthirsty ghoul and disembowel you."
"That was not the thought in mind but thank you for adding that one" he replied dryly as the old Vivian came back fighting through the shroud of exhaustion and grabbed the plate to leave her in peace. If he didn't feel well, the last thing he wanted was company watching him in his lowest point of life and informed her quietly, "I will come to check on you later."
"Wait, I think the floor just shifted with the wall- be careful out yonder, pal, there be pirates!" she rambled madly with a cautious voice that almost made him believe she was entirely lucid but touched in the head. Whatever went on in the bodies of women, he didn't want to know after this. He simply patted her on the head like a master would his old hound that was ready for peaceful death and she mumbled under her breath as she closed her eyes briefly, "Hmm, yes, I'll take that coffee cake. . .Altaïr loves coffee cake. . ."
Her hand flew up to investigate the new sensation on her head and smiled dopily at finding his, the back of her logical hormone-lacking mind awed to touching the mighty hand of Altaïr. As for her current self, she gurgled tiredly as the imbalance only served to skewer her image and snuggled into the bedroll as he coaxed gently to lull her to sleep, "Go to sleep, Vivian. We will take over your shift tonight."
"Thanks, Garrus. . .you're my best friend" she mumbled softly with a content whimper and he bit his lower lip, resisting the urge to correct and snap her out of the strange mental state. Instead, he decided to leave her be (but he would check on her to prevent any mishaps) and stood up to exit the tent to return to sharpening his sword since the nighttime offered the most peace. She watched his tall shadow flicker against the tent, hearing the flaps of the entrance shift as his footsteps were the only sound of his exit. Hmm, he opened them quite a lot, actually. . .a little too much for her current liking. Quickly, she called indignantly for being left at the mercy of mosquitoes and demanded restitution, "And close the flaps right, I'm not about to die from numerous mosquito bites!"
It was going to be an arduously lo-o-o-ng week with the injured badger.
A/N: As if a female AC fan wouldn't have it bad enough in the Middle Ages, I decided to burden poor Vivian with that known condition to add that realism into the story. She's a brave soul while Altaïr is still out deciding whether she's a dragon in disguise and if she'll claws his eyes out. She'll be back to normal, somewhat, in the next chapter as she connects with Altaïr and ventures into the next village. I decided to break the chapter in half so you could get a chapter every two weeks because there are stories I become brain starved for and want to give you guys that nice slice of virtual cake.
Thanks for the continued support as I dish out these chapters of the ridiculously peppy Vivian, stoically grumpy Altaïr, and dashingly friendly Malik.
Lostwithoutdoubt: Glad your computer's back to normal, I hate reading from my phone because everything looks tiny. Lol. Malik is definitely the peacemaker, there's a scene much later in the chapters where Altaïr accidentally kills an animal that Vivian had unofficially dubbed as her pet 'Rigby' and let's say he wasn't gentle handling the situation. Altaïr is the logical brain of the group while Vivian serves the moral good so she freaks when he jokes about having a funeral and putting down animals himself when Malik diffuses everything by scolding him.
ShizukaRen-Hime: Originally, I was going to have him shove her off the bed but being punched in the eye is more hilarious. Later on, I saw this Parks and Recreation episode where one of the characters is 'sleep fighting' and almost punches his coworker, leading to him stating that it's only a bad condition when he's losing. I thought it was hilarious and could see Altaïr doing something like that later on. I researched old beliefs about menstruation and those were the top ones, which would make any woman cringe.
KrnYong: As a teen, I had to share beds with my favorite cousin during the holiday season but even then, I took most of the space while she took the blankets. We'll always hear Vivian spouting off names from fandoms but I find it humorous that although Altaïr is her favorite (along with Garrus Vakarian), she'll never say his name in her sleep- much to his annoyance as time passes. There's no modern day topic I'll shy away from to give that realistic feel as poor Vivian endures it all- a sore butt from horse riding, annoying mosquito bites, the dreadful period, stinky outhouses, a common cold, you name it.
xVentressx: Nobody wants to share womanly business with Altaïr. lol
ihas no clue: It's bad enough to have that physiological time bomb and unless you bear no pain during those times, I think most female fans dropped into the Middle Ages would groan miserably to the lack of decent painkillers (I know I would). Just like you said, it's a human thing and Vivian's the most average being I can think of that wouldn't defy biology.
Next Time:
Night had fallen over their campsite and brought a refreshing cool breeze that relieved the weary travelers as they'd eaten their dinner. Vivian was glad for the lack of firearms in their era because preparing a catch riddled with bullet fragments would've made it difficult, glad that she only had to fish out an arrowhead. Altaïr had insisted he prepare the bird but sick or not, Vivian would be horribly bedridden on her last breath before she let the man near the spices. Even Malik had wrestled a catch from him more than once because losing all of their expensive salt at his hands wasn't worth it but poor Altaïr was simply too stubborn to fix his cooking skills. To him, salt was the only ingredient needed to give flavor to food but the assassin poured salt onto food rather than added pinched dashes so everybody suffered when he put on a chef's hat.
Malik had retired for the night to read one of his books before heading to sleep, the light from his candle lantern glowing against the walls of the tent. Altaïr had chosen to write alongside the campfire in his travel journal, deciding to take a break from his POE ponderings while Vivian practiced her developing Arabic script on a piece of parchment. It definitely wasn't as easy as English but the calligraphy was quite elegant and although the mechanism that allowed her to understand their language was as unknown as her arrival, she wanted to learn their language in case it failed one day. Listening to Altaïr rant in Arabic would be quite the sight but she'd rather understand his words. While she'd scribbled away, he'd taken notice of the sloppy penmanship since Malik's coupons had given him quite the comparison in their writing skills and he'd ripped the paper out of her hands to teach her.
Normally, it was Malik's job to take care of her language skills- and just about everything else- but Altaïr couldn't bear to see his language tarnished by those slender hands. Vivian bore her first lesson with the assassin as he accented just about everything as important, her head nodding away mechanically to ensure she was listening but when he began to recite the history of the language . . . she zoned out. She loved history and craved knowledge but when Malik spoke, he garnered attention as he spoke with lively enthusiasm whereas Altaïr sucked the light out of the sun when he preached with a tone of superiority that bored her. She rotated the round pendant of her mother's necklace between her forefingers, wondering how it was the only object in her possession that traveled with her. How she came to find herself in assassin garb was beyond her, it was mind boggling.
"Are you listening?" he called for attention since he'd gotten to the point where mankind learned to write but caught the glazed faraway look in her eyes. If there was one thing he hated more than ignorance, it was feigned interest that wasted his time.
"Bite the brush and drink the ink, got it" she grinned cheekily to poke the stern eagle but snapped out of her realm of questions to pay full attention, her glazed look fading to make way for a perky expression. His brows were knitted together in displeasure and his Botox worthy lips were set in a frown, clearly displaying she'd upset his highness once more. Hmm, what was her record so far? Seven scowls in one day? She waved her hands dismissively to show she was committed to learning, huddling against the log behind her, and stated assuredly, "Of course, I'm listening but I'm more of a hands-on learner- why do you think I chose history? Can we skip the history for tonight and start practicing? I can learn it from Malik during our canoe ride to pass the time."
He denied handing over his writing quill, twirling it between his dexterous fingers, and chided smugly, "Impatient, are we?"
"I think we know who the impatient one is here" she quipped back with a small smirk since his patience extinguished rapidly when she was involved and pulled out her piece of charcoal to begin writing. Vivian preferred a stable non-liquid writing tool that wouldn't leave her fingers smeared or held the potential of ruining her work. With an impish maniacal laugh, she began writing on her clean piece of paper but that was a huge no-no for Professor Altaïr. He snatched it out of her grip with his flawless agility (not to mention strength), eliciting an adamant protest since it was her last piece and she wasn't keen on relinquishing it. She hadn't expected to wrestle with the equivalence of Professor Snape in the Middle Ages and tugged for her precious charcoal, hissing protectively, "Give that back, you!"
"Charcoal is not for writing, you need decent ink" he instructed shrewdly on her choice and pocketed the charcoal in one of his belt's pouches until the lesson finished. Vivian narrowed her eyes for having her tool swiped without her consent but her nonverbal attempt to intimidate him failed since he sat above her on the log and her huddled form did more harm than good to her expression. He opened a wooden bottle of ink that he'd placed next to his left side on the log bench and set it between them to state matter-of-factly, "All true writers of this time know this."
"When you publish your book titled 'The Assassin in a Nutshell', you can boast" she scoffed to his haughty tone since she could write quite well since she'd completed the necessary English classes for her degree. It wasn't her fault that Arabic script was tough to write as it used a different alphabet than her Roman one, not to mention that languages changed over time so the current Arabic of her time could be entirely different.
"Write the alphabet" he ordered curtly as the joke failed to land, handing her the materials and she groaned to her educational punishment. The man made a better assassin than a teacher and she longed to have Malik continue the lectures but when you needed help, aid was acceptable from a grumpy Altaïr. She quickly scribbled her letters to show him her best skills, hoping she'd manage to light one tiny flame of approval while keeping the butterflies in her stomach at bay since having him loom over her shoulder unnerved most people. His lips curled into a dismayed frown at the horrible calligraphy he was witnessing and remembered fixing her words on Malik's 'coupons'. He'd assumed her nervousness and the unbearable heat were factors to the sloppy writing but he realized it was how she really wrote, sighing dismally, "Vivian, you're like a child."
"Yeah, well . . . I got nothin'" she sighed hopelessly with pout as her brain failed to fart out a retort and dropped her quill on the paper, disappointed that she couldn't make her penmanship neat. She was uneasy using ink since liquid was messier than solid charcoal, holding the feather away from the paper to prevent any drips and requested with a dramatically wide smile, "Help this hopeless beginner, will you?"
Thank you for reading and please review. Oh, and tell me how AC 3 is for those who have it because I've yet to buy it and I don't mind spoilers.