Inspired By: Two Steps From Hell- "Friendship To Last"
Altaïr: Grand Master, Assassin. . .Daddy?
Altaïr turned out to be quite the caretaker as he checked on Vivian like a normal friend rather than a no nonsense leader that wanted to keep her moving on track with schedule. It was a rather nice change from his usual tough guy behavior and she hoped that it wouldn't leave once she was back to normal. Somehow, she knew snappish Altaïr was ready to sprout from the shadows with those sharp talons of his to sink into her humorous anecdotes with logical ferocity. Once she was back in tiptop shape, she would welcome the deadly dance like a petite hermit crab raising its claws against another hermit crab that wanted to rob its shell.
"Do you know what I love about Vivian's shifting moods?" Malik mused on the third day as they rested on a shady part of the riverbank after recently returning from a trip to the first outpost that Amon had given them. They had traded for goods and Altaïr had posted cryptic letters for personal delivery to Amon, which would be forwarded and deciphered by Ilias back home. Vivian, unfortunately, was forced to stay behind at camp under Altaïr's orders to prevent any injuries. The unlucky woman was stuck making stick dolls out of twigs with grass to occupy her time and had chucked them at him as projectiles upon return.
"If you tell me that she'll be a field ready for sowing, I will murder you and throw Vivian after you" the assassin replied tartly as he brushed his robes clean of lingering wooden debris from her earlier attack. Although it had been pettily weak, small fragments broke off to stick onto the fabric of his robes and the brown was easily seen against the bone white cloth. Also, the dolls had looked absolutely monstrous and he wanted them nowhere near his person.
Malik laughed aloud to his farming joke, his amused laugh echoing in the empty riverbank and he answered with a smug grin, "She only becomes enraged with you."
"When hasn't she been?" he pointed out disgruntled and continued writing in his codex book to scribble down his recent thoughts about the newest piece of Eden. His first time wielding the item was within an empty field where neither of his friends was stationed to protect them from any effects. He was surprised to see similar images of the past and future, all very similar to the Apple, but that was all he'd gotten so far. He wasn't eager to delve further and gain inhuman abilities so he'd take in one day at a time. Vivian had warned him that the Templars would one day find a way to relieve memories through one's ancestors and he didn't want his descendants leading them to his hard-earned discoveries. He was working hard to protect their order but his memories would ironically give their enemies information in the future if they happened to fall into the wrong clutches. How could he protect himself against that?
Those eerie beings brought him questions about how many ancient (and current) religions had contained those regaled 'gods' when advanced technology is what brought them their gifts. It couldn't be that the old Roman religion was the only one that had been infiltrated by whoever 'they' were. It sent a chill down his spine to who they were because nobody could find those exact answers and his friends agreed. They wondered what the true origins of their species had been and where 'they' came from. Had they come from a different continent? World? Realm? Time? He didn't hesitate to pose those questions in his codex and quietly scribbled his many thoughts in neat calligraphy.
"I can hear you two quite clearly" Vivian's voice mixed in as she added spices to a naked pheasant Altaïr had bought from the trading post, preparing the meal for their evening. She didn't want to slack off in her share of the load and although it hurt to walk endlessly, she was able to partake in tasks that only required sitting. Altaïr swore her senses increased tenfold in the past days as each little sound irked or frightened her (he'd no idea what these 'hormones' were called) and she wagged a nagging finger from her spot across at camp to protest, "I should stuff the end of this thing on your head, you know."
"It would still turn out delicious" he retorted with a cocky smirk and instead of watching her cheeks puff in rage, she grinned at the comeback. Her fingers returned to rubbing spices and light dashes of salt underneath the pink skin while shaking her head in amusement to the clever jabs. Knowing the awesomeness of Altaïr, the pheasant would magically earn a fantastic flavor and Vivian burst into loud giggles when she glanced at the man scribbling into his book. He'd give a whole new meaning to food mascots if he decided to graze the front of a seasoned salt bottle- at least he had the white outfit to match.
Altaïr decided her random giggle fit was aimed towards him as usual but let her be since nothing was exchanged and she wasn't biting his head off. The wrathful dragon was receding back into its dark abyss to let the witty badger escape from its burrow to roam peaceful pastures once more. He decided it was safe enough to verbally poke her since she was snickering to herself and called across the shady field, "Will you be keeping that rage into the week? With this travel schedule, I'll be training you relentlessly."
She groaned miserably because although it wasn't anything dealing with assassin skills, Altaïr would kick her ass across the field with something innocent like defense training. Was it too late to play nice after all the stuff she'd yelled at him in the past three days? Could she make a comeback from making a euphemism about hidden blades? Poking fun to his tendencies to hug walls? Having a deathly fear of water? Yelling at him that she'd castrate him if he rowed too fast? No. . . . definitely no. Hormones, was there anyone you hadn't embarrassed?
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 cleaning it difficult and was 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 literally poured it onto food rather than added pinched calculated 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 as he decided to take a break from his POE ponderings. Vivian sat below him on the bare ground as she practiced her developing Arabic script on a piece of parchment. It definitely wasn't as easy as English but the calligraphy was quite elegant . . . too refined for her inexperienced hands. 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 humorous 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 sloppy hands. Vivian bore her first lesson with the assassin when he could no longer withstand her chicken scratch and he'd surprised her by declaring an immediate writing lesson. 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 like any bookworm but there was great variation between both assassins in their teaching approach. 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 and briefly wondered 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 as her glazed look faded 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 awful 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. He sat above her on the log like the watchful eagle that he was and her huddled form did more harm than good for her defiant 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' or 'Chicken Soup for the Assassin Soul', 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, languages changed over time along with the culture so the current Arabic of her time could be entirely different. Her lips broke into a naughty smile that he narrowed his eyes towards immediately to repel it and she teased playfully, "Oh, how about this one: 'The Erotic Adventures of Altaïr-"
"Write the alphabet" he ordered curtly as the crude 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 and hoped she'd manage to light one tiny flame of approval. It was tough keeping the butterflies in her stomach at bay since having him loom over her shoulder like an ominous phantom in white unnerved most people. His lips curled into a dismayed frown at the horrible- even that was an understatement- 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 eventually realized it was how she really wrote. He resisted groaning miserably into his hands like he'd done in his youth when he accidentally mixed the red sashes in with the white laundry washing basin and sighed dismally, "Vivian, you're like a child."
"Yeah, well . . . I got nothin'" she sighed hopelessly with a 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 and quickly held the feather away from the paper to prevent any drips. Her eyes brightened against the glow of the fire as she met his stern gaze and requested with a dramatically wide smile, "Help this hopeless beginner, will you?"
He shook his head to her goofy expression and took the quill from her hand to write the word 'house' while instructing her to copy it legibly. Thankfully, she did better on the second try but her writing slanted slightly with the lack of lines on the paper. He leaned over to grasp her hand and helped to guide her second repeat, correcting her strokes carefully to show where her mistakes were being made. Her lips widened into a bright smile as she slowly corrected her errors, biting her lower lip in concentration to make sure she didn't cause the assassin to sigh melodramatically. She didn't know whether sloppy writing or being nagged was worse and felt like a baby bird when he released her hand to allow her to focus on writing a sentence alone. When finished, she handed him the quill and showed him her work while musing softly, "I hate that I can read this but can't write it myself. It feels like a horrible cheat."
"But you are pushing yourself to learn and not falling into the false sense of security it gives you" Altaïr stated simply and she smiled faintly when she realized he was encouraging her rather than nagging. Well, if that wasn't a tiny ego booster, she didn't know what was. He wrote a few more words for her to copy and she took her time to gently write each to match the elegant calligraphy of the assassin.
"For a man that hasn't gotten an elite education like royalty, your penmanship is beautiful" she complimented softly while watching him scribble in elegant Arabic as he wrote another everyday sentence for her to learn. Goodness, the man was as flawless with assassinating as he was with his calligraphy. He twisted the quill with perfect precision to thin or thicken his script while she'd sloppily written her words in any legible way she could. She cast aside her shortcomings to peer at his hand movements (the writing was almost hypnotic) and mused about the strange occurrences in her life since entering his world, "It's eerie how I can understand you yet I know nothing of your language in reality . . . it scares me. I don't want to wake up one day and find myself not understanding a word either of you says."
"Thank you but none of us really knows the mechanism of your arrival so it's natural" he stated earnestly since he didn't know much about her origin into Jerusalem either but could see that the mystery troubled her. The woman missed her family constantly but failed to voice it, leaving it readable in her body movements and paralanguage when they interacted. She might have the tenacity of a European badger in her veins but she was a kindhearted person, leading him to encourage her plight, "You will find your answers, Vivian, and your way home. I am glad for whatever force granted you the gift to understand us fluently. Otherwise, my English would be a bit hard to understand since my exposure has been due to the Templars and other Crusaders- my accent is horrible to hear."
Pal, you have a voice that can knock a girl's socks off, she thought privately with mischief about his sincere comment since there were words of his language she couldn't catch sometimes and the accent tied to it was beautiful. As charismatic and eye ogling that Ezio could be (hey, even Desmond), Altaïr carried his own exoticness without needing to smile or strut down a dirt path. You can read a phone book and I'd be happy for a week just to have heard it. Even your gibberish would melt fans!
"I don't know, it might've made life easier without me mouthing off every few hours" she joked lightly with a carefree chuckle since her rambling grated his nerves when he wanted silence to bask in. After all, they hadn't agreed on her motor mouth since their first meeting and he'd ordered her to stay in a corner more than once in punishment. Archaic times were strange when he'd reverted to primary school tactics to push her into behaving but she preferred that instead of being whipped or manhandled. She admired that about him because no matter how angry he became, he never lost his honor by daring to strike her or threatening to do so. Other men in these times (Malik excluded) weren't so kind to her gender.
He smiled faintly to her words since it was rare for him to hear compliments from others. His lips broke into an amused smile when she pointed to one of his letters in emphasis and added sheepishly, "I like that dot."
"It is a rasm, it helps distinguish between letters and their sounds" he explained helpfully and tried not to laugh at her curious expression as pouty mauve lips formed an 'o' of understanding. He had no idea how lost she truly was in understand their Arabic script and decided that she needed a decent teacher that wouldn't let her slide out of hard work with her silly jigs or singing (reminding himself to tell Malik to toughen up). The dai carried a gentler hand in teaching that he didn't but Vivian had a mind fit for any male scholar of his time and Altaïr wouldn't hinder teaching her due to society's norm against educating women. He pointed the tip of the quill in her direction and proposed simply with a piercing gaze that was practically nonnegotiable to her, "I can help you learn my language so you don't feel lost since it seems Malik's been going easy on the lessons. . .if you'd like?"
Leaning over to nudge the side of his lower leg with her right shoulder, she gave him a cheshire grin that the glowing fire shadowed and preened, "Great, I can check your vocabulary to see if it's as fantastic as your writing. Oh, and pass you notes when you impose a silence rule."
"You just keep finding new ways to wound and annoy me, Vivian" he feigned a dismal sigh to her eccentric personality quirks and shook his head to the goofy grin on her face. Out of all the women in his time and realm, they brought him the witty historian of the twenty-first century. Altaïr decided to count himself lucky since she did have her uses and was slowly adapting to her decoy skills (not to mention notorious lying and looting) so her tagging along was not a waste as he'd originally believed. There was no point in ever training her in their ways, aside from basic self-defense, because Vivian made it quite clear that she didn't want to be an assassin in any way for fear she'd break her skull open attempting parkour.
She chuckled softly to his light jesting, surprised he'd even uttered such humorous quips with his stoic personality but appreciated his attempt at bridging a connection. It didn't make her feel so alone when they interacted and she teased back with her sharp wit, "Well, it's only because you keep me on my toes with your grumpy logic."
"I'm not grumpy" he objected snippily with offense, full lips frowning in his classical 'thou shall not insult' face that helped don him of that specific comparison. This is why she preferred the abrasive assassin over Ezio because Altaïr's lack of a funny bone was humorous in itself.
She winked in accordance to his lie, the modern meaning lost in translation to the man, and grinned to restate impishly, "Right, you're broody. Either way, you make life interesting and it keeps my mind away from home."
He smiled faintly against the warm glow of the fire since most avoided him due to his quiet nature, even among his own because of his ranking. Yes, he was sought when it came to training or strategic input but Altaïr had been taught by Al Mualim to be solitary and independent- something that he now saw as a hindrance and benefit. Vivian decided to cheer him up in her own outlandish way as she took it upon herself to keep his mind out of its dark crevices. Taking advantage of his silence, she began the next thirty seconds that would weigh in comparison to living nightmares.
"For that, I will grant you a boon of a song:
People let me tell you 'bout my assassin friend,
He's a brave grumpy man who'll poke me till the end.
People let me tell you 'bout my assassin friend,
He's a one man army, my up, my down, my bane and joy."
He groaned miserably to that screechy voice that had temporarily ceased during their stay in Giza and didn't want to see its horrible return. It took a lot to make the mighty assassin groan but Vivian managed to do so in under a minute. Raising his hands in obvious protest, he objected quickly with a vehement shake of his head to sigh exasperatedly, "No, Vivian, no-"
She stopped her banshee's cry and tapped her fingers sheepishly and he sighed in relief that he'd closed Pandora's Box before his eardrums exploded, pinching the bridge of his nose to dull any pain in his head. Vivian's eyes darted comically around the campground as she ran through ideas in her mind and opened her mouth to pipe up with its next suggestion, "Okay, how about. . .
I'm a pint-sized historian that can dance like a man,
I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!
I'm a smart tootin' historian, I can punch-ah yo buns!
Punch-ah yo buns, I can punch-all yo buns!
If you're an evil Templar, I will punch you for fun!"
"Don't make me punch you for fun" he growled as the tune was rather catchy in rhythm, especially when she spun her hands in song, but refused to acknowledge the humor in it. There was absolutely no way he was falling into her humorous traps since he lacked that trait in his personality . . . but he allowed it to remain in hers. It was complementary to his and it helped to lighten tense situations most of the time when he was ready to burst or exhausted, leading him to order, "Now finish your writing."
"Only because you listened for ten seconds before exploding this time" she smiled cheekily and listened to his request dutifully, practicing her calligraphy with a keen eye this time. Despite her banter, Vivian was a studious woman and she wouldn't take her lessons lightly because there might be a time when she would have need of them.
Vivian was a happy puppy when she finally ventured with her partners to one of the outpost settlements Amon had given them. The Nile kept civilization close due to the fertile land but as they ventured further south, communities would become sparse as governments dominated different portions of Africa. The south was untamed with hunter-gatherer tribes but the coast held trading ports that brought travelers from the north so it would help keep them in the loop with news. Their path south of the Nile would be incredibly long since it was the largest river in the world for a reason (not to mention battling the downstream current) and they'd pass countries before hitting Uganda to travel into Kenya.
She'd been stocking up on delicious lentils and beans, her eyes straying to wheat flour at each stall and wishing she had an oven at hand to bake a sweet cake. Oh, what she'd give for a scrap of chocolate! Of course, all she had now were dreams where she could go into a See's factory and indulge imaginatively. The endless travel didn't afford them much sugar or salt due to their high prices (this was the basic form of it, mind you) so her palate was sated with aromatic herbs. At the current moment, Vivian stood inside a fabric shop with shelves that dwarfed her petite size as different rolls of fabric were wedged into the shelves for storage. Her arms were full with a bundle of different colored cloths, each richly beautiful in color but rejected by one finicky assassin.
"I refuse to wear anything that clashes with my sash- it is our trademark" he snapped indignantly as he folded a caramel toned fabric to place it in her arms and add it to the growing bundle. Vivian was just about ready to tip over in the store as he'd stacked rolls of fabric to the point that she could barely see the man anymore. She'd taken on the agonizing task since Malik could no longer bear the complaints and had gone to check the postal office for any mail concerning them because the place would be free of Altaïr's comments.
Messengers of their time traveled nonstop on horses or camels (boats for international shipping) so they'd be getting to outposts faster with their routes in comparison to them. It was a sad day for Vivian when she realized they were slower but their team was covering more ground and being careful in their movements to remain covert. Amon's first letters had arrived at the second outpost as promised and Altaïr had been happy to know the alliance was confirmed and Ilias would deploy a new rafiq and assassins to protect Giza's first bureau. It was an accomplishment that he hadn't expected until a few more years and was glad for it; he wasn't a man that liked change but sometimes, it was required.
"Sometimes, I think you become a petulant child for the attention" Vivian muttered dryly because she wasn't keen on holding heavy fabrics to play as his inanimate dresser. Thankfully, a store assistant came to collect the rejected fabric options to restock them back into the handcrafted shelves of the store before Vivian tipped over like an old redwood tree. She thanked the young woman, a slim teenager that somehow managed to carry the huge pile in her thin arms and smiled amicably, "My apologies, my husband is quite the character with clothing."
"It's times like this that I question our marriage" he shot back grimly as he studied a brown chocolate cloth between his fingertips while the young woman scuttled off before the 'couple' began to quarrel. He wanted a decent color to help blend into their surroundings but nothing appeared suitable to his finicky eye while Vivian had half a mind to tell him of Ezio's options (mmm, that man had an eye for attractive colors). It was a shame she couldn't see how far he'd aged now because his physical features took it in stride like a fine wine. Scholars would be rare heading south and traders would be the majority of a population along the coast so white wouldn't be a good everyday option. Black was too severe and trapped heat quickly while tawny hues clashed against his sunkissed skin.
Vivian sat down on a nearby stool, placing her pack full of newly bought items on the floor since they weren't going anywhere. His clothes shopping could take a while, wondering a man of his caliber put so much attention to detail, and smirked mischievously with a wink, "Well, maybe that's why you'll never get children."
"If they turned out like you, it's best I didn't" he preened smugly with that trademark smirk that had driven her bonkers during the first week. He was a good verbal foe and she handed him the point since his skills certainly outmatched hers. Although, it would've been hilarious to see an army of mini-Vivians' attacking him in her honor.
The rich chocolate hue of the fabric matched beautifully with his white robes and gray trousers, leading her to state, "I think that color is the best I've seen. Everyone wears a brown of some sort here and it'll match the trees once we travel on land. It compliments your eyes," quickly, she added in, "It'll double your intimidating glare. Enemies hate glower power."
Altaïr, as always, was ready to pick at the tiniest reasons not to buy it, "The white might overpower-"
"Altaïr, so help me, if you unload another bundle of fabric I will throw your pack in the river and leave you without clothes" she threatened for the first time as his meticulous picking was grating on her last nerve, especially after he'd drank the last of her water and refused to refill the canteen until they left. There was only so much patience she could wield and being used as a dresser for his rejected fabrics zapped a lot of it. She placed her hands on her hips in the classic 'you better check yourself before you wreck yourself' pose to show she meant business this time. His left eyebrow rose in curiosity to the petite historian that dared to defy him as her cheeks flushed with restrained annoyance and her voice snapped shrilly, "I will-"
He grabbed her mouth to seize her angry nagging, pressing his fingers against her teeth to keep her lips ajar to prevent her tongue from touching her teeth for sound. Since she'd begun to wear her hair in a neat braid, he could see the tips of her ears turn red whenever flustered and he smirked to tease, "Fine, but only because you resemble a pomegranate when you're mad."
Her lips pursed to the comparison and he released her, grabbing the roll of fabric in one hand to find the store merchant or one of his helpers for the purchase. She grabbed her plump pack to follow after the assassin and was glad to be done with the task because he'd almost driven her to murder. Her feet practically pranced onto the dusty unpaved paths of the settlement and her gaze observed every little thing from the women shopping for goods to the domesticated animals that wandered the area. She pouted when a small goat passed by with its owner that held a basket full of brown eggs in his hand and lamented not patting the adorable herbivore.
When he rejoined her with his new purchase, her face fell when he commented that goat would be nice for dinner that night and she tried wiping away the image of the little goat on a plate. He was wonderful for bursting dream bubbles, wasn't he? The two waited outside the store for Malik since they told him to meet them there to prevent becoming lost in the settlement. Also, they were constantly wary of spotting any Templars or spies working for them because a knife in the back could come from just about anywhere- maybe from that innocent goat. No, no, now she was letting her imagination get carried away with goat assassins. She fished into her pockets to pull out a few scraps of hard candy and offered warmly, "Candy?"
"Woman, is that all you buy with your coin?" he questioned incredulously since she always had a little bag handy but grabbed one to enjoy nonetheless. She made sure he'd placed the candy in his mouth before lightly smacking the leather belt over his waist in revenge for the jab. He batted her pesky little hand away and countered his candy acceptance by quickly adding in, "This does not mean I approve."
Malik didn't keep them waiting for long since it took a while to sort through all of the folded letters and packages in the small office so Altaïr's shopping cut down on the time. His expression was calm as always, his lips breaking into a smile when Vivian waved rapidly to him, but his posture was a different story. Normally, the dai carried himself with relaxed shoulders but they stiffened when he came to a stop. Uh-oh, trouble in AC land. Both Altaïr and Vivian were instantly curious to what caused the quick behavioral change and the dai informed the duo, "Amon's letters arrived and there's something you need to see. I'd suggest composing a letter right away."
The three moved to a private spot under a shady tree, a stack of nearby crates helping to conceal them. Ah, crates, the stink lacking alternative to hay and always there to hide assassin business. Malik quickly pulled out the letters Ilias had written for him, the cryptic Arabic script written for brotherhood eyes only along with their alias, and handed Altaïr a specific letter from the bundle. His honey eyes scanned through the letter as he read about Templar movements heading south, the news of the end of the Third Crusade. . .
"The Crusades have ended and nothing concrete will hold the Templars in our lands anymore" he sighed with relief that war would no longer ravage the land and ruin the lives of civilians, wondering if this was the news that Malik had wanted him to see. Glancing up from the letter, the dai motioned with his hand that he keep reading and Altaïr murmured, "Our recruits are on their first missions, this is good-"
"Keep reading" Malik insisted but the previous news was indeed celebration worthy since both parties in the war had taken losses.
Altaïr read about the newest assassins being deployed for information gathering now that the Templars held no ground in Jerusalem. His eyes widened to their fullest on the last sentences of the letter where Ilias had written: 'the newest arrival of your old partner, Maria, has unsettled a few but she's been no threat to us as of yet. One important fact that has drawn everyone's attention is that she is expecting and she's confided in me by admitting the child is yours. I think it would be best for her to stay here until you return and a reply letter would be helpful in managing this situation. Seeing as you're not due to arrive for more than a year, a plan would benefit both of you.'
His entire body stiffened to the news because that was the last thing he'd expected Maria to spring upon him when she decided to take his offer. He'd become fond of the woman with their partnership as they sabotaged Templar plans (what assassin wouldn't love that?) but while he'd needed to return to Masyaf, she'd headed north to Turkey for further reconnaissance. Their adventures had led him to hope that a relationship would flourish, no matter how unorthodox it would be after being previous enemies, but Maria had clearly stated she wasn't looking for anything long-term. She was emotionally guarded due to her past and although Altaïr respected that she needed to find answers for an order she'd once respected and believed would help womankind, she'd remained elusive with her heart. It hurt him since his feelings had already formed and was forced to abandon them to respect her choice. Nonetheless, he advised her that one day she'd have to open herself to that vulnerability as it held strength. She was a lone wolf but wolves always needed a pack to thrive to their fullest potential.
His voice shook uncharacteristically as he gazed at his companions to admit hesitantly, "I . . . um, I am going to be a father."
Malik didn't know what to say since his friend wasn't exactly beaming with joy like a man that had been waiting for such a precious milestone in his life. Altaïr felt as if the ground would give way at any moment to send him flying into a dark abyss because the news was unexpected, stunning him down to his very bones. He wasn't ready to be a father yet! Goodness, he couldn't even afford a pet! Vivian broke the silence by clapping her hands at the most inopportune time, missing Altaïr's stunned face, and declared jovially, "Yes!"
His glare power reached a new level as he targeted the misfortunate woman and seethed angrily to her reaction, "How can you possibly cheer at a moment like this? If you're this joyous, go finish my mission while I retrace the entire trip back to Masyaf."
Vivian wasn't going to tempt fate since this was a monumental moment in his life that would ensure his lineage down create Desmond, keeping her mouth shut on the matter. Still, it wasn't very nice to be yelled at for accidentally uttering the wrong thing (wasn't he supposed to be joyous instead or murderous?) and cursed her optimism for opening her mouth prematurely. She physically withdrew from the conversation to leave the two assassins to their business and politely excused herself, "I apologize and I'll head back to camp now."
She was happy that the timeline was proceeding as planned but his reaction to the whole thing was entirely unexpected. It left her stomach uneasy and it wasn't due to the yelling since she'd been down that road before. Hadn't Ubisoft portrayed the two quite happily after their initial dislike? Who wouldn't like a strong woman that left everything behind to find herself in the world and sate that wanderlust? Heck, she was a woman and fancied Maria ten times better than that Adha woman. Ugh, she still had nightmares from that game. Vivian had no idea what happened in Altaïr's life after that Acre moment in the second game but then again, there were games already in production that she was missing back at home. The fact that she'd return home many months from now was disheartening and having to greet the next descendant after the charming Ezio didn't help either. The longing for home reminded her of the empty canteen at her side and she headed to refill it at a merchant's stall before heading down the main path to head back to camp. It wasn't a very long walk, half an hour at the most so she wasn't sweating the return back.
Altaïr managed to calm himself down after a few minutes as he absorbed the news with a cool head. It wasn't his child's fault that they'd come at the most turbulent of times in his life. He couldn't be there for them since he'd embarked on his one-way trip without worries and now, he had a monumental one. He lacked any sort of bond with his parents but that didn't mean he wanted the same with his own children one day. However, it seemed he'd unwillingly have to have his first while on his current mission and didn't know how to handle the new situation. He sighed softly under his breath as he leaned against the cool bark of the tree and asked his closest confidante for help, "How am I supposed to deal with this? It is unexpected and the fact that I won't make the best father with this dangerous profession isn't filling me with hope for giving that child a future."
"Take it one day at a time, write a quick note to Ilias and sort through all of this at camp where nobody can overhear us" Malik advised to keep his friend from going on a rampage and took back the letter to tuck them into a chest pocket inside the lining of his robes for safekeeping. There wasn't much he could offer on handling upcoming parenthood since he lacked children and patted his friend on the shoulder to encourage gently, "This is not a topic you can accept overnight so be careful in your wording to both Ilias and Maria. Oh, and play nice with Vivian when you return- you crushed her like a poor ant under a boot."
He groaned miserably to his lousy day and headed for the mail office to write his encrypted message for sendoff.
Altaïr poked the fire with a blood freezing scowl on his face that had failed to leave since returning to camp in the afternoon. Vivian had stammered nervously in accepting his apology from the intimidating glare alone and had scampered off to tend to her chores to escape the evil eye. She didn't even want the apology since his entire aura had shifted tremendously after reading that letter and wanted to flee from the new 'murderously scowling' Altaïr. Supper had been a quiet affair as none treaded into his personal space for more than one meter and Altaïr's companions felt like they were walking on broken glass around him.
As for the assassin himself, he'd written a cordial letter to inform Maria that she would be welcome at Masyaf for as long as she wished and to take care of her. . .their. . .child. Since they didn't have any sort of romantic relationship in the present, he would leave that in her corner because he was certain she'd run off if he dared to propose marriage for the benefit of the child. Their relationship, or lack of one, had placed them in a strange circumstance since she'd wanted no emotional entanglement while he had. After being apart for four months, his mind was all over the place on how to handle the situation because he'd never been prepared for this stage in his life! All in all, he was literally screwed with this new conundrum.
His mind snapped out of its ruminations when he heard rustling to his left and shifted his gaze to find Vivian removing a bag with sweet bread from her pack. Their eyes met and hers widened immediately to the size of dinner plates at being caught like a deer in headlights, causing her to bolt back inside her tent. Altaïr found that extremely odd, especially with her behavior, and look to Malik to find the dai suddenly engrossed with a book he'd instantly picked up. If this wasn't obvious avoidance, he didn't know what was.
"Did I accidentally smear blood on my face?" he questioned aloud for clarification to unveil this new mystery because his cup was full for the day and he wanted to bask in peace. Malik slowly lowered his book by an inch so only his dark eyes were visible behind it and Altaïr resisted groaning with annoyance. He'd often seen this look on his friend during adolescence when he didn't want to become involved in Altaïr's problem of the day and cautiously treaded forward with that simple maneuver. Malik saw the flicker of irritancy on his frowning face and coughed nonchalantly, returning to his book once more with focus and Altaïr snapped tightly, "Malik! I demand an answer."
As if the situation wasn't odd enough, he could feel a pair of eyes on his back and turned swiftly to find Vivian peeking out from behind the flap of her tent. Her eyes widened before she ducked behind the sleeve to hide once more but Malik took this chance (mostly because Altaïr's glare was gone) to admit, "Your nonverbal behavior clearly displays a negative aura so Vivian and I decided to tread quietly around you. You need time to absorb this news-"
"I'm not frail glass, Malik" he interjected shrewdly with offense for being dared to be treated as such because that was aimed more towards the fairer gender (not that they were weak). He was an assassin! It would take much more than that to knock the air out of him and leave him unconscious. He used the stick in his hand to poke at the flap of Vivian's tent, poking something soft that elicited a surprised squeak from its snooping inhabitant. The humorous 'eep' sound was almost enough to cast aside his stern expression but he ordered firmly, "And get out of there, you're not a mouse."
Vivian slowly crept out of her hiding spot but kept her eyes covered as she walked slowly and declared, "Okay, but I refuse to look into Medusa's glare."
"You were a hydra itself but you didn't hear me complaining days ago" he shot back coldly since she didn't need to tread cautiously around him and almost sighed when she imitated a crab's walk to go around the log bench. She baffled him with every passing day and hoped that he'd begin assimilating her odd quirks during their travels because sanity was a requirement for a successful mission. Now that he looked at Vivian, he was thankful that Maria carried his child because she could hold her own in the harsh world while his companion. . .
"Sweet, I found a piece of cheese!" she cried jovially when she sat down next to Malik and fished out the morsel from her left pocket as if it were the most prized item in the world. Yes, Altaïr could've done much worse in choosing a partner but grimaced mentally at having Vivian as the con example. She wasn't a woman from his times so no wonder she flew out into the negative zones of his radius but even so, she'd admitted her bookworm persona didn't drawn many eyes. The fact that she became delighted with just about anything told him she'd be babbling more over his child than either he or Maria- which she'd started to back before he silenced her.
"We wanted to give you a quiet night where you could dwell on this to help you find answers" Malik stated easily as he placed his book down on the log bench and Vivian nodded as she bit into her linty piece of cheese (food was food, right?). Altaïr wasn't the type of man that became in tuned with his feelings or displayed them publicly, leading him to frown at the horrible idea. While Vivian shrunk away from his piercing stare of doom, the dai remained unflinching in his seat and deliberated calmly, "You have been handed life-changing news that don't necessarily bring negativity. It will have Maria safe at Masyaf and the Templar threat is declining in our lands so for the moment, they are safe. What concerns you, I believe, is what your place is in all of this."
Ooh, a dai with therapist skills, Vivian thought impressively and rested her elbows on her knees to listen intently.
"I'm in the middle of Egypt somewhere, I think that shows how far away I am" the assassin replied stiffly and growled when Vivian shushed him for using terse words against the dai. Nobody shushed her super awesome 'away from home' best friend. She raised Malik's book to ward off his petrifying look and he dismissed her, looking to his friend to state sharply, "This is not what I expected in our journey and we're not at the half point yet- or the half of the half point! Regardless of what happens between Maria and me, I don't want my child to grow up without me by their side. Yes, I haven't exactly had the best role models and I'd sooner stab myself in the knee than change their soiled underclothes but that's my child."
Aw, he's having his first fatherly moment, Vivian thought sweetly from her spot since these were pivotal moments in the life of the assassin that began it all. Forget watching Ezio make women swoon, she wanted to see the super baby of Altaïr and Maria.
A wave of nausea and uncertainty struck him because his life had branched outwards to contain an unborn child that he had absolutely no idea how to care for. This was not in any of his areas of expertise and he furrowed his brow to contain his distaste to the new vulnerability. Vivian offered him a sympathetic smile since she'd seen a similar face on her father after the widowed grief dulled and he realized he had three young girls to care for. It was a new shift in identity as life threw everyone curve balls and she soothed, "You're walking on new ground and you've yet to find your footing. It's natural to be apprehensive but you're not alone, Maria's doing her part and you can find a way to keep in touch until we run out of offices to post mail from. All you can do is show you care and you are."
"That . . . did not help at all" he muttered flatly as her words carried nothing to sprout ideas from and she sighed exasperatedly since she wasn't a mind reader. Malik threw him a small canteen and quickly told him it was wine since the liquid did wonders to a worried heart when words failed to help. Altaïr shook the item in emphasis towards Vivian as he pointed out haughtily, "See? This is a better option."
"Yeah, I forget I'm around men whose social roles deny them emotional expression and they hit the bottle to cope" she shot back dryly since she'd hit the bottle herself on the second day of her cycle to dull her pain but ended up in a horrible giggling fit. Well, that's what Altaïr told her after he and Malik discovered she was a light weight and half a cup knocked her out. It was shameful in drinking terms but she wouldn't give the six foot tall assassin the benefit of hearing it but Malik was always an exception (she'd practically drawn a cartoon halo on the dai).
"And don't you forget it" Altaïr stated proudly with a nod since alcohol was his last resort when he couldn't waste away stressful energy with training. Besides, people drank alcohol with most of their meals instead of water as it killed off more microorganisms with its acidity. Malik aimed a deadpan stare that contradicted his comment but Altaïr waved him away because his day had turned lousy and he wasn't eager to divulge his feelings. He opened the cork of the canteen to take a sip of the wine but spit it out a second later when he realized it was warm, coughing with disgust, "That was atrocious. . .just. . .ugh!"
Malik and Vivian hid a snicker to his apparent displeasure as he cast aside the canteen to make sure nobody tasted its contents during the night. Altaïr returned to poking the fire to occupy himself and Malik offered another piece of advice, "You cannot change your current location or the birth of your child but you can make sure you fight your best on this journey to see them when you arrive at Masyaf."
"And if she leaves with the child?" he put forth hesitantly since that was one of his major worries, along with their safety, since learning of the news.
Vivian's brain was full of ideas after playing too many video games and she suggested helpfully, "Use your assassins to track her down, send Rafiki to scope her out, see if the POE can help, put wanted posters for a 'mother lost abroad' throughout every country from China to England but make sure they get her nose right-"
Altaïr raised his right hand to stop her many choices as the words condensed into babel in his head and cut in, "How do you conjure these ideas? I should ban your outlandish thoughts from our discussions . . . but I won't."
He hated the naïvely sweet puppy worthy expression on her face as it managed to penetrate through his defenses. She was slowly worming her way in with selfless kindness he hadn't experienced (even Malik had his limits due to Altaïr's stubborn attitude) and he wasn't reluctant to reject it after knowing arrogance had been one of his traits during his fall from master rank. Despite the irate emotional leakage from his part, Vivian held her own against him when they argued and still believed in the best of him- a compassionate trait that he reluctantly admired. There was strength in the time traveler despite her odd quirks and he would take each day at time to learn more about her since Malik could already do no wrong in her eyes.
"If Madagascar doesn't work out, not that I'm hoping for that, I can babysit" she piped up helpfully to lift his mood and Malik chuckled to the image of her carrying a fussy child with multiple bags of baby items in tow. Altaïr fought the urge to wince since Vivian's fast-footed pace would have him worrying that she could drop a baby in her walking haste. Vivian was undeterred about her offer to be Altaïr Jr.'s pack mule and raised her index finger into the air to declare proudly, "I can tell you right now that I have five years of childcare experience and I've fixed enough boo-boo's to earn a master's badge of boo-boo mending."
"What in the world is a boo-boo?" the assassin questioned with bewilderment to her futuristic babble and felt the slightest twinge at the base of his skull telling him a headache would form soon. Malik had to agree with his friend as the word was entirely lost to him as well, the translation lost to the wind.
Vivian merely smiled brightly to easily inform the two about her jargon, "Bumps and bruises, of course. I'm not Mary Poppins with her spoonful of sugar but you can trust me to handle a baby- even the drooling and throw up is cute."
"I don't know half of you said but you're hired for my firstborn" Malik laughed to her enthusiasm about childcare since most people in their time would complain about poop and whether they'd last through any illnesses. Nursemaids were rare in Masyaf due to their isolation apart from society as Al Mualim had separated the children from their parents. Altaïr, however, was mulling the idea of training their female informants or trusted wives of assassins in midwifery and nursing for the future care of children born into the order. Mortalities for children were common due to the archaic medical care in comparison to Vivian's (he was still surprised by some tools and medicines they used) and mothers could also perish during childbirth or after due to infection or a difficult birth.
"Oh heavens, I'm going to be a father" Altaïr sighed miserably to the sudden vice grip in his stomach as Vivian's perkiness contradicted with his internal feelings and they wanted her far away due to their infectiousness. He fetched the canteen he'd dropped on the floor, briefly forgetting why he chucked it in the first place, and popped it open to drink his woes away. Malik and Vivian merely watched him gag again with revulsion to the warm liquid and this time, he launched it into the forest to make sure he didn't make a third mistake. He wiped the left side of his lips to be rid of the terrible taste and coughed hoarsely in exclamation, "Why did I drink that again?!"
For the first time, Vivian offered sympathetic physical comfort by opening her arms and smiled warmly, "I also give 'super happy' hugs or so my little sister says. I can dub them as 'assassin power' hugs for you?"
"Members of opposite genders cannot embrace unless they are family or married" Malik informed casually as he felt the tense air from earlier dissipate completely by Altaïr's wine complication and Vivian's free babysitting service. Never in his years did he imagine he'd be sharing this kind of conversation- while sober, anyway. Altaïr nodded in agreement to the social laws of their culture, especially since he was a man that had a private personal space big enough to fit a tent.
She blinked to the startling news and scratched the top of her head to slowly ask, "Wait, is that why you all stared at me when I hugged Malik in Giza?"
Both men nodded once in perfect unison and she frowned with embarrassment to that social snafu, sighing softly with lament, "Oh, Vivian, you're going to dig yourself into a figurative ditch one day."
Her shoulders rose the next second as she perked up immediately and pondered aloud, "Ah well, at least I talked my way out of that by making up a country. . .which I shall call. . .Hogwarts."
She shook her head quickly to find a more original name but Altaïr could care less as she rambled, "No wait, Coruscant. . .Gondor. . .Palaven. . .ooh, Urdnot. . .Awesomeland-"
"I don't think Coruscant-Gondor-Palaven-ooh, Urdnot-Awesomeland will be remembered by many and my short-term memory is already pushing it" Altaïr commented flatly as he tried to keep a straight face to the ridiculous names. Malik's less stony demeanor allowed him to do the laughing for him as the absurd name was quite comical in itself. Vivian's shoulders sunk from her seat since the names alone sounded cooler in her head (each separate, of course) but they were a train wreck altogether. She joined Malik's laughter over the awful names when Altaïr stated his own version for the pick, "Badger Land. A country where the European badger reigns supreme on their flag."
An idea popped into her head as she sat in front of the fire and it wasn't the longing to find the archaic version of marshmallows in the 1190s. She rubbed her hands mischievously as she proclaimed her anthem would be called 'funkytown' and began a song that was old but always made her tickle with laughter:
"A town to keep me movin', keep me groovin' with some energy
Well, I talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, talk about it
Well, I talk about, talk about, talk about movin'
Gotta move on, gotta move on, gotta move on
From Ba-a-a-dger Land
Won't you take me to funkytown?
Won't you take me to funkytown?
Won't you take me to funkytown?
Won't-"
"No, I will not take you to 'Funkytown'!" Altaïr interrupted her awful banshee's song to preserve his hearing and she grinned to hearing his accent with the song's title. She could understand most of the words he spoke without a problem but when it came to jargon or fused words from her time, his distinct enunciation mixed into the translation. He rolled his shoulders back to shake away the horror of the previous minute because his day was already bad without her singing and stated firmly, "Now, head inside and go to bed like a good citizen of Badger Land."
"The sky just turned dark and I'm good now. . .mostly" she protested with a pout because she hadn't spent the recent nights outside like she usually did. The self-imposed solitary confinement at night had become excruciatingly annoying and she missed socializing with her friends. She actually felt quite fine to take on her first night shift that week to resume her watchwoman duties but Altaïr's stern glare was nonnegotiable. Boy, that child of his would be petrified by age two and immune by age fifteen. She looked to Malik for input on their argument but the dai shook his head, silently telling her to let it go for their friend's sake.
"You pushed it by allowing me to bring you into the settlement and- you're leaving without arguing?" Altaïr began to count off his reasons but faltered when Vivian stood up to head in for the night by following Malik's advice. The dai knew how to make peace as he found the easiest compromises before any damage was done and he was right about handing Altaïr the win that day. Unlike the assassin that fought tooth and nail with most of his choices when an argument arose, Vivian listened with an open mind to keep their everyday atmosphere clear of any tension.
She patted Altaïr's right shoulder on the way to her tent but left her touch brief and light to avoid bringing discomfort to the proximity, stating quietly, "Call it a compromise but thank you for allowing me to travel today."
He didn't know which was worse; that he felt disappointed that he wouldn't get to have a meaningless argument or that he actually wanted one. Vivian was adapting to their way of life quite well as she kept herself physically distant and respectful of his privacy. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for him as he constantly kept an eye on her to make sure she wouldn't wander off into a crowd and never return. He rested his left cheek in his hand as he leaned forward with his elbows on his legs and grumbled lowly with a lethargic voice, "She baffles me sometimes. . .and I find it disheartening that I savor that moment."
"Altaïr, you're quite baffling yourself and I've known you for over a decade" Malik chuckled softly to show his friend that it was entirely normal since friendships shed a warmer light to a person's personality over time. There were times during his youth when Malik wanted to stuff his ears with linen wrappings to prevent hearing Altaïr's angry rambles or his way of how things should be done. The fact that Altaïr met his match on a philosophical level meant the two would be repelling and attracting each other's opinions on certain matters. Not to mention, their complementary personalities meant they would butt heads once in a while but they would bring out each other's best traits. Malik's charismatic personality would thankfully balance the two out as he listened thoroughly and could turn a deaf ear when he had enough of their rabble.
As a prime example, he let it slide when Altaïr's boot scuffed the dirt and the assassin muttered in rebuttal, "I hope you get twins someday."
Malik hoped Altaïr's child would get its mother's personality.
A/N: I regret seeing the end of AC 3 now due to character death (horribly reminding me of Mass Effect 3) but learned a bunch of info about the beings that came before, which has given me ideas for the sequel. At least Altaïr popped in for a final time in the start. . .now I'm nostalgic. . .and guilty for finding Connor highly attractive (almost tying with Altaïr and he's my number one). Why did Ubisoft choose a background that I'm oddly highly attracted to? Lol. Thankfully, Vivian will only have eyes for the Arabic man with the glare of doom when she finally returns to find what's happened in the real modern world.
With that said, we see poor Altaïr's reaction to the baby news as he adapts to being a new father and the group will keep traveling south in the next chapter as he fiddles with the items. As for Vivian, the girl is perfectly back to normal now and I have admiration for her as a person because I dealt with horrible monthly cramps just a few days ago. The fact that I had a presentation due for class allowed me to summon my courage and volunteer to go second after my friend because if Vivian could bear that, what would a ten minute presentation do to lil' old me? Now I can sit back lazily and play AC 3 until presentations are over on the 21st.
Thank you for the new alerts on this story and my quiet readers on the web, I love you guys! Technology is so awesome as it allows people from all over the globe to share a single story.
Glowfrog: In order for Vivian to match us regular folk, the poor girl had to endure that unfavorable physiological event. Altaïr was endearingly hilarious since he's never had direct contact with anyone who divulged that information and tried his best to cope with that situation. I'm certain if it had been Ezio, the charming Casanova would've played it off and joked about limitless fertility. It's a shame I couldn't write a story about him and Vivian traveling around Europe but having a completely platonic relationship. Thank you for loving my tale!
ShizukaRen-Hime: Wow, I didn't think the isolation would still be in use but there are parts of the world that stick to old traditions or contain their own indigenous culture. Thanks so much for informing me about that. Altaïr isn't chatty about anything, especially women's monthlies, so it was sweet of him to bring her food when he normally wouldn't. I like to think he expresses his compassion through actions rather than being verbally expressive. Depending on the length of the next chapter, we'll see Altaïr allow Vivian a taste of Egyptian history as they travel to the Valley of the Kings in either that chapter or the next.
KrnYong: I have very painful cramps, which affect my ability to walk and my asthma so I take Aleve 500mg since it helps my sensitive joints as well. Unlike poor Vivian, I'm knocked out without sleeping aids due to exhaustion. I'd like to think the heat, exhaustion, and pain bring Vivian's hilarious rambles. That's the only chapter about that that I have on the story but I'd be open to writing another down the line in their travels to bring another reprise of Altaïr's fear. Altaïr is a good chameleon in adapting into uncertain situations but yes, he is nice to help Vivian- even when she threatens harm to his manly parts. Lol.
MrsTrafflagar law: Thank you for loving each chapter, I appreciate it!
Tulippen: Thanks, Vivian is a perky optimistic woman like many of us but she has her humorous faults. It drives Altaïr insane and brings brotherly doting from Malik to further bond the three as she finds her way in the old world. I really do find myself loving her character out of all that I've created in my stories as she carries humorous innocence. Her social awkwardness from the modern world and historical intellect make her fit into Altaïr's journey as she learns to grow from him and Malik.
xVentressx: Oh, I should use that joke to rile Altaïr since Vivian uses the most inappropriate words around him to ruffle his feathers. I actually like Malik being her teacher since there are stories with Altaïr training an OC and he falls madly in love with her and want to avoid that with Vivian. I liked the way Ezio and Sofia traded their knowledge so she could point him in the right direction and want a mutual relationship between Altaïr and Vivian where they both reap equal rewards in it.
PuellaGrata: Don't worry, I understood you clearly and thanks for loving my story. If not, I have no problem putting a review through Google's translator for help (I love it for translations). I wanted to steer clear of the usual OC repeating AC1 alongside Altaïr since I've never been one to follow what's already been written but branch off from it, which is why I decided to give him a new adventure. I also liked Malik and Maria but hated the way they were handled in Revelations (Malik never popped up again!) so I'm heading elsewhere with them. I'd rather have Malik die valiantly and Maria be the warrior woman she is. Vivian really does deserve chocolate and she definitely misses it as she tries to find sweets in candy. The review didn't give me the link you sent, just parts, and wondered if you could PM it to me or write it out with spaces in between the words. FFnet is very strict with their links sometimes.
Next Time: The Trying Adventure of Altaïr
"How much longer do you think it will be?" Altaïr asked Vivian since she was his source of information and had begun asking for her input through their travels. They had been rowing up the river for more than five weeks as they traveled to restock and find camp at the temple of Philae that was located at southern Egypt. It was their beacon to guide them south into Sudan and they would feel safer at an abandoned temple on an island than the open desert. The land was arid with sparse trees once they left the rich soil deposits of the shore that allowed the land to flourish bountifully.
"I don't know, Altaïr, it's an island so we can't miss it on the main river" she answered uncertainly since her major was history, not geography, and stopped her sketch. The land was over a thousand years old and the terrain would've changed over time since the temple had to be moved elsewhere for preservation. Whatever lump of large land they found in the middle of the gargantuan river, she would call it since they were nearing the location. She gazed at the horizon to the south in case she spotted something that he hadn't and informed quickly, "It's changed in my time due to corrosion but we can't miss it in this era. Do you still remember the map?"
"I don't have the memory of a child, Vivian" he stated dryly but relented with a nod nonetheless towards his belongings so she could fetch his book of maps. He wasn't impervious to mistakes and it would be arrogant of him to believe so. . .but hoped she wouldn't ruin his organized packs. He allowed another to peruse through his items despite his strictness on privacy and told her, "It's in one of my packs."
Malik groaned to the man's artistic abilities since Altaïr preferred his own hand drawn copy of maps so he could add in notes and sighed, "You heard him. Keep an eye out for a page with a deformed landscape that resembles a brown circle then."
"Not all of us have an artist's fingers, Malik" Altaïr retorted sardonically since his sketching did indeed need a hand in improving but nobody had actually offered to help. There was no question to who had the best artistic hand in the group but he took solace in Vivian's compliment that his penmanship was the most elegant.
Looking to Vivian as she sat behind him, he stopped rowing to see her digging into his pack with her right hand and sighed under his breath when she waved to him with the left. Truly, he questioned the logic behind bringing the perky historian into his time. She fished out two books but instead of perusing through them, raised each so he could see the covers to maintain his privacy within each intact. He shook his head to reject both, silently thankful that she hadn't decided to read his writings but part of him already knew she wouldn't be nosy. If anything, he was the nosy one out of both and laughed when she exclaimed shrilly, "Ew, there's something gooey in there! My limit is crunchy and coarse but I draw the line at gooey and pointy."
"Oh, that's a cheese I bought" he answered simply while coughing back a laugh to her frightened voice and features. Did she really think he carried dangerous gooey items? She dug further into his bag past the strange lumpy objects and found another book, pulling out a red text and smiled at reading the words 'Maps of the World'. She popped it open to find it full of masterful drawings of current countries and kingdoms that weren't from his hands. Piping up she had it, she closed his bag after fixing everything neatly and returned to her seat to resume her sketching. It was best they had the book on hand rather than fetching it at the last minute.
Altaïr looked to her quiet sketching to see if he could lift his bruised ego from its hole by critiquing hers since she never held anything against him (well, most of the time). His left eyebrow rose when he spotted sketches on the page adjacent to her drawing of the landscape and noticed human figures in various poses. One pictured a man similar to him in appearance wearing strange black armor as he held a weapon of sorts, another- Malik?- was in brown robes as he held a glowing sword of sort, another was in assassin garb while holding a beer with a grin that oddly resembled his if he actually smiled, and others. Hmm. This poked his curiosity as he rowed the boat upstream, ripping his gaze away from the river once more to look past his right shoulder and asked casually, "What are you drawing?"
She flinched sheepishly as she'd been engrossed with drawing and pleasantly surprised he actually showed an interest in her scribbling. Usually, he told her to stop that awful charcoal scratching but could see genuine interest in his gaze. She was always eager to gain a brownie point with the awesome assassin and showed him her bundle of caricatures. Her voice hitched in volume since she didn't display her drawings to anyone besides her sister and rambled quickly with a wide smile, "That's Desmond as Commander Shepard, Malik as a Jedi, your descendant Ezio enjoying a beer, Rebecca breaking a vase over Shaun's head, Leonardo wearing a nice Versace suit, and Lucy dissecting a sandwich. Oh, and an elf named Zevran."
Altaïr had absolutely no idea who those people were in the slightest sense as she smiled brightly to her quick sketches and he regretted asking almost immediately. He felt inclined to increase his comfort level with Vivian due to her special circumstance but sometimes, his mind suffered in attempting to understand hers. It wasn't hard to lose interest in the conversation and flatly asked with a deadpan expression, "You drew people I don't know? Where am I?"
She pointed to a familiar man wearing strange clothes on a wooden bench and answered cheerfully, "You're feeding ducks. I would've drawn you with water wings but you don't know what they are."
"I don't know what a Jedi is" Malik spoke up as he looked away from his book for a moment to add in his two cents and hoped it wasn't anything bad. Despite that, he liked the sketch in his name as it held a distinct human physique while Altaïr's hand would've . . . catastrophic would be the best word to describe it. Malik took pride in having an advantage in that skill and that was while lacking his left hand to keep a paper in place and sharpening his tools without it.
"They're awesome futuristic warriors who keep international peace and have powers" she explained easily with a big silly grin that told him to take pride in her little sketch since Vivian admired the two as mentors. Malik had no issue encouraging her talents or hobbies since her written Arabic was slowly coming together as a new language took time to master. As for her defense training, she was practicing the basic fundamentals to grasp the concepts perfectly since her petite height could make it difficult to take down taller people. How did Malik know this, you ask? When Altaïr had tossed her aside like a child's doll without even trying to steal a hot pastry she'd warmed over the fire. Malik realized that oddly enough, the key to releasing her potential was increasing her irritancy over having Altaïr steal or ruin her things. He would have him steal another item of food, like he usually did, from the passive woman to continue the same cycle.
"Oh" he uttered with a pleased tone since it was rather nice to be painted in a heroic light but Altaïr's eyes narrowed since all he received was a sketch about ducks. Ducks! Who would want ducks in a picture with them? Where was the strong eagle icon she yapped on about since her arrival? Or a fox? A leopard? Anything with sharp fangs or claws!
He kept a straight face as he restrained his annoyance over the yellow creatures and asked with a low stiff voice, "Why did you give me ducks?"
She wiggled her charcoal piece in the air with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes since she'd chosen the fluffy animals to contradict his indifferent personality. It was a moment like this as she eyed his frowning face with mirth that she laughed mentally at the analogy of being the Leslie Knope to his Ron Swanson- man, she missed that show. Gazing down at her sketch book, she finally allowed the cheeky smile to surface and offered nonchalantly, "I could draw you with Mr. Ping, the goose. He has a very nice noodle shop and everyone loves noodles. Or a melancholy donkey named Eeyore, he's pretty cute. Or a magical yellow dog called Jake-"
"Enough, each option is more ridiculous than the last" he silenced her ramblings as they confused him and regretted asking in the first place altogether. It was bad enough that her hand was better at drawing than his and she'd picked the smallest fluffiest animal. . .well, baby ducks weren't so bad. It was a lame attempt at drawing him in a normal but strange futuristic setting and returned to rowing their boat upstream.
Thank you for reading as always and please drop a review cookie for Vivian to chew on (but most likely, Altaïr will eat it).