Music Inspiration: Lorne Balfe- "Fight Club"
How to Kill a Templar
While Malik remained calm as a cucumber at camp after they left Altaïr behind, Vivian failed to relax as she imagined all the horrible scenarios he could slip into. What if Templars caught him? What if he couldn't stick a landing and hurt himself? What if a fruit peel lay on the street and he slipped on it? Oh no, what if her snacks gave him indigestion? She'd occupied her time by washing, pacing, reading, pacing, practicing her writing, pacing, folding up the laundry-
"Vivian, he will be fine" Malik assured for the tenth time as she folded her laundry hastily while looking into the path they'd taken to the settlement. At every little sound that echoed in the area, her head snapped up to check to see whether Altaïr had returned. He hadn't realized how attached she'd grown to either of them since meeting and she reminded him of a fateful watchdog awaiting the return of its master. That wasn't to say his little friend was their pet but she cherished them like family after having lost hers to the dimensional shift. He watched her fumble with a brown linen skirt as she tried to fold it in haste and advised gently, "Your clothes will be wrinkly."
"D'oh" Vivian sighed softly as she realized her clothes weren't folded in any way at all and resembled crumpled candy wrappers. She was worse at this today than Altaïr normally was since he practically punched his laundry into his bags. No, she wouldn't be getting anything done until the grumpy assassin came back to camp to nag about something. She discarded her clothes into her tent to fold them later when her brain wasn't a useless mush of worry. Vivian plopped down on the log bench across from Malik as the dai read quietly and she admitted bashfully, "I'm not used to traveling without him by our side. I could've stayed behind on a building, brought him snacks, and figured out how to make archaic binoculars."
"He's been doing this for many years, he's survived worse" Malik chuckled warmly to her fretful worrying and could only imagine if he'd stayed behind as well. Vivian slowly found herself agreeing as logic managed to grab hold of her mind because there was a reason he was the badass of the franchise. Well, he shared the title now but he definitely held the champion trophy in her book.
"I know he's capable of surviving just about anything but I worry" she smiled weakly since she'd grown accustomed to sharing jabs at this hour while he skinned his catch for supper. She'd played enough of the first game to know the slightest fumble would have attention called onto you and the fact that he wore bone white robes was a perfect target sign. It would practically call out, 'Hey, Templars, kiss my ass!', to anyone that was familiar with the assassin garb.
With that in mind, she returned back to her tent to fetch the chocolate fabric Altaïr bought back in Egypt to continue stitching the new outer layer of his robes. The man wore intricate layers on the exterior and she kept her cutting precise with his help to make sure it matched his original robe. She loved the beautiful billowing layers of the ends and wanted to maintain the look with the new color.
Malik watched her sit on a clean patch of grass that would hold the unused fabric since he'd added pins for notes on his measurements. She hunched over as she grabbed her sewing needle to continue working on the sleeves that would run underneath the gauntlets and outer sleeveless tunic. Since he was glued to his hood night and day, they decided to leave it for last because it was a fight to get him to relinquish it. She might not be able to fight and although the task was a backwards step in feminism, she wanted to help him blend into their new environments. Although he'd bitched and moaned for quite a while, she managed to pry an agreement to ensure his safety so she'd be holding him to it.
"Do you think he really will wear it?" she asked with uncertainty to change the subject to a lighter mood and shook the end of one of the tail ends of the robes at her friend.
"He will, once we nag him enough and he sees everyone wear that color" Malik grinned since his friend could be stubborn with changes that he didn't implement himself. After all, the man had lived with the same haircut for the last twelve years and refused to change it.
Vivian laughed aloud to the idea of sitting the man on a log and nagging him endlessly to wear the robes. Somehow, she was certain he'd pull off a Houdini and escape them to go fishing or sharpening his blades. Whenever she wanted the man to do something, it was an uphill battlefield and she sighed aloud, "I wish I had your intimidation factor against him. All I can do is offer treats and hope he doesn't stuff me into a log when he's cranky."
Malik joined her laughter since he'd chucked her into her tent more than once and set his book down in his lap to smile slyly, "You try to coddle and condone his behavior, young Vivian. Instead, use what you were born with- female intimidation. Altaïr is a dominant man by nature and although an understanding personality helps, it can also backfire when he wants someone to verbally tangle with him. I don't agree with most of his insane rambles and nip it in the bud with a simple but stern no."
"Have you seen our height disparities? He's liable to crush me under his American size 10 boots" she pointed out awkwardly since she'd actually tried walking in his boots once and fell over when her feet swam inside them. He actually laughed for a few moments before removing the boots off her bare feet and kept walking without offering a hand. When she asked about his lack of manners, he'd simply stated that she was old enough to know what would happen when she touched his belongings. There were consequences to decisions and she'd have to live with each, especially when caught with his property.
"Altaïr respects women and he's intimidated by them so you have his Achilles heel" he stated knowingly since all of the women Altaïr spouted about were either strong in their own right or had beaten him over the head more than once. He didn't waste his time with leech-like women and Malik had rarely seen him with any- Vivian and Maria being the exception. Vivian held knowledge that Altaïr didn't know and that could be used to gain that competency she searched for since the man enjoyed a similar brain to pick. Of course, their complementary personalities caused the two to clash into humorous quarrels and he continued firmly, "When you say no, it means no. Arguing with him, as you can see, leads nowhere and neither does lecturing. If you want to earn his respect, knowledge is your key- not brawn."
Malik made very valid points since she tended to run circles around him like a puppy and she tapped her chin to muse, "You're right. He already has that pedestal of his pumped up to the heavens and when he fusses, he really throws a tantrum of epic proportions."
"There's nothing wrong with appraisal and validation, he melts on the inside for that" Malik stated with a small snort and Vivian's ears tuned in to hear the rest of that because it was gold. The stoic assassin had a chink in his armor that oozed honey from the sappy goo inside? She decided creating his robes could wait for a bit and Malik explained carefully, "When we were growing up, whenever he heard a girl give him a compliment, he was cheerful for days. The man actually smiled back then! He does the same with you in a silent manner until it hits his independent fortress and he runs off to seek his freedom. You notice this happens when you try to use a tone that doesn't fit with his personality and he leaves to avoid any of it. When he does that, stand firm and you'll find your way to making him bend to your will."
Bend to her will, eh? Hmm, her brain really shouldn't mull over words like that because she was certain the man could bend in a dozen different ways. The man was like a yoga instructor with his acrobatic skills at free running! She did not need to imagine him bending at all because the man already had quite the derrière that perfectly fit the 'Baby Got Back' song . . . not that she was looking at it or anything.
Vivian was silent for a few seconds to absorb his advice and finally exclaimed with undying adoration, "Malik, you should write a book! You could call it 'Handling Your Altaïr: A Caretaker's Manual' or 'Altaïr: Dangerous to Docile'! You'd be famous all across the assassin bureaus and in my time," her eyes became glassy and she awed, "I could post it on fanfiction under the pseudonym 'silent assassin' or something cooler."
Malik laughed to her idea since her times were strange and Vivian felt her worry for Altaïr fade away. The dai was like a best friend/brotherly blend that she was fortunate to have on this trip and proud to have him at her side (hustling wise too).
When Altaïr returned, the bright sun was setting over the silver-blue horizon as an orange ring surrounded the blinding star. He made no footsteps with his mastered stealth but Malik heard his arrival into the camp while Vivian kept sewing the tail ends of the robe. The sunlight would soon be leaving them and the remaining light that filtered into camp would allow her to do the most she could. A flash of white entered her peripheral vision and she turned quickly to see Altaïr had returned safe and sound to their small quaint camp. She dropped her needle onto the linen fabric to jump to her feet and Malik watched her run with inhuman speed towards his friend.
Altaïr barely had time to react when she grasped him by the forearms to ramble worriedly, "You're alive and safe! Did you kill Templars? Did you scare away their scandalous hookers with your hidden blade of awesomeness?"
He sighed dismally to the rambled greeting he received since he craved silence and murmured flatly, "It's jargon like this that makes me want to fall on my own blade."
Her lips frowned to his comment but she had resembled a crazy hen flying at him without warning. She released him to maintain propriety but patted him lightly on the right shoulder to welcome him back home. Malik's advice would come in handy when he was ready to bat her away but for now, she was simply pleased to have his safe return without a blade sticking out of his back. She tucked her hands behind her back to show she wouldn't launch herself at him like said crazy chicken and smiled amicably, "I'm glad you're back."
"A sentence I can relate to" he stated with satisfaction since her ramblings were bad enough when she mixed modern sayings but attributed it to her worry. He didn't know why she'd do so since he'd been on countless investigations without earning injuries. Thirsty from his long walk and mission, he left her standing to head for the water pail on the floor next to the unlit campfire. Vivian's eyes widened when he kneeled down on the bare ground to drink from the pail without reserve. Well, that. . .totally killed his natural allure and awesome factor a bit.
It would've been easy to dismiss his extreme thirst but when his Adam's apple kept moving after twenty seconds to show he was still drinking, she dove forward to yank the bucket away. He literally hissed like a scorned lion for having his precious water bucket pulled out of his grasp and Malik turned his attention to the feuding duo, nodding to Vivian to continue her resolve. This time, she didn't hesitate as she held the bucket close and stated firmly, "You're going to throw yourself into an endless sleep if you drink all of this. You'll imbalance your entire system and we won't have that. I can make you a meal but no more water until another half hour passes."
"You don't own the water pail!" he objected shrewdly since his mouth was drier than the entire Sahara desert and lunged forward to reclaim it.
Malik's right leg intervened as Altaïr struck it with his chest and bounced back to fall on his butt. Honestly, he felt like a father rather than a brother with the man when instances like this occurred. Altaïr's lips were set thin to show his displeasure at being denied water of all things and hoped his robes hadn't landed in wet dirt that would stain. Malik stood in front of Vivian as the woman held the pail protectively in her arms as one would a child and the dai stated matter-of-factly, "Given the fact that we cook each day, Vivian and I are practically the king and queen of food so you'll heed her order. After all, she's only- oh, I don't know- saving your life."
Altaïr grumbled under his breath for being on the losing end of this battle and stood up to dust off his robes, shooting the two a small glare. Why did the two always conspire against him? Vivian set the water pail next to the log bench that lay besides her and shifted the conversation elsewhere by asking, "How was the investigation?"
"I should deny you the knowledge but I'm hungry" he nagged with offense to being banned from water and sat down on the log to relax his legs. The inside of the boots were cooking his feet after walking for hours around the village and back to camp, leading him to unbuckle them to allow air inside. The leather was warm to the touch since the sun had resembled half a circle when he entered the forest but it managed to keep the humidity inside his boots. If that didn't finish him off, the heat waves would and he deliberated while removing his boots, "Well, I noticed they had a camp further south where homes were sparse and followed their movements. Unfortunately, I saw nothing out of the ordinary but I need access to their camp to figure out what they're doing. As for that brothel, I overheard them say that they'd visit it after sundown."
"Evil men canoodling after sunset- sickeningly vomit worthy" Vivian shuddered to the thought of cartoonish Templars making kissy noises to scantily clad women. Was there no decency in the ancient world?
Altaïr ignored her comment about adulterous conduct because he didn't want to imagine other people doing that or that they actually had reproductive parts to speak of. He eyed the little badger when she sat next to him with her hands neatly tucked in her lap and eyed her for any mischief. Today, however, she was being a good girl for his sake since he became grouchy during a long travel and he continued nonetheless, "I need more time so I will be returning tomorrow to track them once more."
Vivian was ready to offer her free services to nab a Templar for interrogation but he intervened firmly, "We need a plan but not until I've gathered everything that I can."
"Aw. . .poo" she mumbled as her itch to cause humorous mayhem was squashed into the dirt for the time being. Well, she'd just have to wait until she could get her face plastered over a wanted ad then. Hopefully, they'd get her nose right since it made or broke a face.
Altaïr arrived later than usual on the third day, worrying Vivian as she'd believed he'd been captured or injured on his search. He'd barely walked into camp to utter a word since he was thirsty for water after the long walk before Vivian popped into sight without a noise. He'd been able to detect her on the last two days but not that day as she burst in like a crafty gopher rather than the uncoordinated wild hen. Seriously, where had she come from? Her hands clutched the leather straps that held his bow across his chest before he could stop her and she rambled worriedly, "You're alive! Are you bleeding? Burned? Bruised? Starved? Beaten? Tortured? S-"
He sacrificed his right arm as a shield to avoid being hugged in any way as she grabbed him to check for any injuries. Her eye was incredibly keen on finding the smallest speck of blood and Altaïr decided that although he'd never had a mother, his child would undoubtedly suffer under Maria if Vivian carried this extent of a maternal instinct. The little badger was breaking personal space as she tried to grab his shoulders for a closer inspection but he dissuaded quickly, "Vivian, don't be a mother."
"I know you're a man that could fall out a four story building and survive unscathed but you're my friend . . . and I worry" she admitted sheepishly since it was a natural trait of hers and they'd become her adoptive family to sate her homesickness for her own. She didn't think she'd ever find coexistence with Altaïr but she had and wasn't about to let him die before he reached his wise elderly years. He had to live so he could nag for decades to come and whack people with a walking cane. Her hands lingered on his shoulders before lowering to the front of her chest as she tapped her index fingers together and murmured privately, "I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I knew emotions would be a disease and you're gushing them all over the place like a plague" he hushed her worried rambles but his words carried no malice, placing a gentle hand on her head to announce his safe return. She liked it when he did that- platonically, of course- since most of the time, her 5'3 frame was fit to be his dresser rather than sidekick. He was home safely at their camp and that was all that mattered to her, ignoring his remarks about emotions. He ruffled her raven hair to leave it unkempt as a sign of friendship and stated smartly with a smirk, "You've infected me so go fetch me a cup of water like a good wench."
"Call me wench again and I'll shove that cup where the sun doesn't shine" she grinned with a wagging finger and pulled his hood down as she headed to the water pail. The man was good with his jabs but he kept her on her toes as they made each other smile in their own dysfunctional way. He hissed softly as she managed to catch him off-guard with her retaliation move and brushed sweat from his brow before lifting his hood back in its original place. Boiling hot or not, he'd never remove his hood.
"I hope you found something definite this time" Malik commented simply as he sat down with a tedious expression on his face since he'd finished reading his book and longed to trade it for another. This was the longest they'd stayed in a camp and he was eager to move south to the lake, which would undoubtedly let him swim his cares away. There was only so much he could do in a day before he'd be driven to death by boredom and Vivian had begun taking naps. Malik never thought he'd find himself bored in the middle of nowhere.
"After figuring out their, uh, schedules, I have a plan" he stated with a proud smirk and his companions sighed with glorious relief that rivaled a hallelujah choir. Vivian handed Altaïr a cup filled with cold water and the man chugged it down to moisten his parched throat, wishing for rain in the hot climate. After basking in the sun for hours as he tagged his targets overhead on buildings, he wanted to lie in the shades and be drenched in cool moisturizing water. Wiping his lips dry, he set the cup down on the log beside him and explained carefully, "From what I've gathered, it's a group of five staying south in the outskirts but the leader frequently visits a brothel. Sometimes, one of his men will follow but mostly, it is him. He . . . every day, for hours, I don't even-"
Vivian saved his flustered expression since Altaïr gave the blushing virgin a new name with his stammers and she smirked slyly, "Okay, the man likes ladies to ride his private pony-"
Both men winced to the image and that she knew such colorful language since ladies were meekly quiet on such private matters. Malik remembered making a meal for the lost historian on her first day as she wiped one bleary eye from the emotional (not to mention mental) overload. Where had the little lost sheep in his flock gone? His shoulders sagged as Vivian smiled impishly and he sighed with a melancholic tone, "You were so young and innocently lost once."
Vivian chuckled to his brotherly tone, squeezing his shoulder as she sat beside him to participate and asked curiously, "So what do you have in mind?"
Altaïr offered a rare smile that unsettled Vivian.
Malik felt a shudder go down his spine in similar fashion to the fateful day he'd first lost his beard and encouraged, "Good luck, Vivian. I believe in you."
"Oh man, what did I just get myself into?" she whimpered disappointedly and scuffed the dirt with her shoe because she didn't feel her persona would be much fun. Somehow, she doubted she'd be playing a jolly jester or insane lady throwing rocks. If Malik's pitying expression was anything to go by, it meant she would be moaning in a lonely cave of woe after Altaïr's plan finished.
"We're going to infiltrate that brothel" Altaïr deliberated simply with a snap of his fingers and Vivian decided that she was better off studying the architecture and individuals outside the place. Egad, could you imagine the horrible smells inside? Or half-naked people? And the sounds? The sounds! Her lips parted in disbelief because they were about to venture where most assassins would not and Malik smacked the man upside the head.
"Ow!"
Altaïr rubbed the top of his abused head as the dai glared to his ludicrous idea and exclaimed indignantly, "Have you lost your sense of dignity? We're not putting Vivian or any of us inside that vile inn of ill repute!"
"We have to in order to kill that man and it is the easiest approach" Altaïr explained firmly because he and Vivian would be doing most of the work. Malik could no longer scale walls with ease or climb a rope quickly (although he could do both) so he would be his eyes and ears outside the inn. Malik was clearly against the plan while Vivian felt her stomach gurgling inhuman noises and Altaïr continued, "I need to isolate the woman he. . ."
"Asks to lick his banana?" Vivian supplied unabashedly and Malik groaned into his hand with dismay. Where had his little sister sheep gone? He could already imagine a wolf Altaïr picking her up in his jaws and carrying his little sheep off, away from his safe watch. Sometimes, he just wanted to smack sense into his friend until he kept her from acting foolishly and keep Vivian as a soft-voiced woman should be. It would've made life ten times easier for him.
Altaïr fought the red that threatened to prick at his ears and cleared his throat awkwardly to her double entendre. Was . . . was that possible? Such topics were forbidden, especially for women, and he swore the neck of his hood became warmer. Well, Vivian would eventually tell him the truth if he asked, right? He actually found himself pausing as her words registered in his mind, stirring a question, and he asked quietly, "Women do that?"
"Altaïr!"
The assassin cleared away the hint of curiosity on his face and Vivian covered her mouth with both hands to stifle the loud laughter breaching through her lips. Was he really asking her what she thought he was? Composing himself, he cleared his mind free of lovemaking techniques and knew a lecture would occur after this with Malik while Vivian's face threatened to shift from a tomato color to cranberry. He cursed that mischievous badger for placing that thought in his head when he was in the middle of planning and went on hastily, "I will ask for her, ugh, company and knock her unconscious. Vivian will climb in to replace her as I feign leaving the building but find my way back inside to await the man at his regular, ugh, schedule. I will hide inside the room while Vivian will utilize every charm in her arsenal to lure answers from him."
"And if I can't and he decides to go at it like a couple of rabbits?" Vivian questioned shrilly since Templars would undoubtedly be stronger than her and wearing flimsy clothing wouldn't make her feel safe. Humorous characters that didn't require much were easy but she carried no allure since she'd attempted it back in Giza to receive nothing in return. Instead, men had literally run down the stairs away from her. On the other hand, she could hope this man was incredibly horny and cared for nothing but doing the beast on two backs. She placed her right palm on her forehead to breathe deeply and sighed miserably, "Goodness, this is Assassin's Creed meeting Grand Theft Auto. We're pushing the 17 and over rating, man."
"Once we're finished, we'll leave out the window and remove the Templars stationed to the south" Altaïr reassured since it was the best plan he could create with the least violence and danger to civilians. He wouldn't be placing Vivian in close combat which is why he needed her as a decoy since Templars wouldn't suspect a woman to pose a danger. They'd kicked out Maria partly because of her gender so Altaïr truly required Vivian's aid for easier infiltration. Malik wouldn't be onboard unless Vivian was absolutely sure and he promised to keep her safe, "I will watch over you every step of the way and won't hesitate to dispose of the man myself to protect you. In return, you can touch my sword as a bonus."
Vivian's cheeks turned rosy since the entire conversation had been hilariously awkward to begin with and asked tentatively, "Metal sword or the hidden one under your pants-"
"Do you see what you've done? You've sullied her brain!" Malik accused indignantly since he refused to put more garbage into her young mind, jabbing his friend on the chest with his finger. Words like that would've had his little friend stoned or exiled for such adulterated speech and he watched Altaïr cover his face with his hands in dismay. The grand master was pretty certain Vivian's head was a little more naughty than either of them gave her credit for but he wouldn't travel that road to keep his sanity.
Vivian resembled Altaïr in blushing color but she was laughing uncontrollably as she tried to keep her face from turning redder. She used one hand to squeeze Malik's shoulder in reassurance that Altaïr hadn't dirtied her mind since she was the one poking the man with her words. Man, this was one conversation she didn't expect but it was leaving her in stitches as her sides ached terribly. Of course, she was the only one laughing while Altaïr clearly appeared embarrassed but Malik held the expression fit for a father ready to shoot a boy off his land for catching him with his daughter.
She waved her hands to clear the air since the faster they planned, the quicker they could leave the boring campsite, and chuckled softly, "Forget what I just said for all of our sanities. I'll follow your plan as long as I know every detail and your whereabouts. I'll also need access to your sword as promised, weapon and private-"
"Vivian!"
She waved her fists in disillusion since she couldn't help but add in that joke and sighed flatly, "Fine. Buy me whatever has a sweet taste and doubles as a dessert or snack. I really, really, need some kind of sweet sugar out here."
This time, she kept her mouth closed because there were a few jokes she could've used to mortify Altaïr. Malik had now taken to watching the two like a hawk as his eyes moved side-to-side every time one of them spoke and both felt like teenagers under his gaze. Boy, the man would make a fierce protector if he had daughters one day. Altaïr nodded halfheartedly since he usually caved for simple things they could share and was satisfied she agreed with the plan. What he didn't like was the fact that he'd never look at his trusty and mighty sword the same way ever again.
Altaïr never felt so dirty at having to pay for a room in a brothel but it was for the good of mankind. That wasn't to say he appreciated wasting his own money for a night of pleasure because he wanted food like any normal human being. His pride and dignity as an honorable man had sunk to the seafloor of the Indian Ocean when he entered that dim musky building filled with people. He'd been incredibly uncomfortable asking for a night with a woman but Vivian had helped coach him with the words without a fuss. How the historian could talk so boldly about things that would leave him red in the face was beyond him (futuristic people were quite improper). His palms had sweated when he handed his hard earned money with lament to the matron of the brothel and requested the woman the lead Templar visited. He really missed his weapons since he'd left them in Vivian's care for later use but had his trusty hidden blade. He wouldn't even deliberate on the orgasmic noises she'd made on being given his sword and dagger, only because he heard similar inside the brothel.
He'd fought the notion to run away when the woman led him by the hand (did she have to touch him?!) upstairs to the second floor where . . . well, everyone danced naked in the sheets. The downstairs were for waiting 'customers' or workers but Altaïr had seen no reason to explore that ranking cesspool and decided to inwardly sob as the dark-haired woman found her room. He said nothing to the woman, who apparently spoke a bit of Arabic, but her frizzy black hair tied in a low bun was enough to remind him of Vivian in the morning. This woman, however, wouldn't chase him for using a haughty comment on her looks and he thinned his lips when they stopped at a closed door.
The woman opened it with ease and entered her private chambers with him in tow. There was little furniture for the small room and a disheveled bed in the center took the spotlight for the woman's job. A sole window allowed the soft breeze of the night to enter the warm musky room that smelled like . . . Altaïr wished for a nose plug . . . while gray curtains were drawn to allow it. There was a wooden washtub to fit a woman's size at the farthest side of the room and Altaïr prayed that he'd never have to touch it.
"Make yourself comfortable" the olive skinned woman purred as she pushed him towards the bed but he found quick refuge in a chair. He was not about to be touched in places he didn't allow unless he said so and praised his fast reflexes. He was a man that defended his large personal space fiercely and unless an acquaintance carried his immense trust like Malik and Vivian, they'd be kicked away.
Of course, when the specific woman he 'purchased' began to drape herself around him, he fought the instinct to run away to seek refuge in his tent. Vivian had commented that they could be as flexible as a river eel and he wanted to accidentally throw the chair back so he could escape. It would hurt his cranium but he thought it would be worth the effort to save his dignity. The dark frizzy haired woman had mentioned in a thick Arabic accent that his shoulders were stiff as she attempted to massage him. He bit his tongue on snapping that he wasn't free with his body (he was a chaste man, not a sleeping mat!) and allowed her to . . . ugh, do her job in alluring him. Still, how dare she touch his clothed body?!
When opportunity presented itself, he used the nearest object next to his chair to knock her out by hitting the back of her head. The woman uttered a grunt of pain in surprise to his strike before collapsing unconsciously onto the dusty floor. His entire body became lax in relief that it was over and the nimble fingers were no longer prodding him like a piece of meat. He looked to the wooden mug in his hand that had held alcohol inside (but now covered the floor) and thanked his inanimate friend for lending a helping hand. Now, if he could find alcohol for himself after the mission, he would sleep contently without the retching worthy memories.
For the moment, he was alone without a harlot or an enemy so he'd count his blessings. It would give him the sufficient time needed to prepare and he didn't hesitate to jump off the chair with disgust, actually yearning for a hug or the option of curling into a ball. Where was Vivian when he needed her to offer one of those ridiculously named hugs? He quickly tied the unconscious woman by the arms and legs with stray blankets from the bed without ripping them (they were brothel workers that were poor, after all). The washtub was the only decent place to hide her so he carried her there to stuff her inside –gently, don't worry- and draped a blanket over her to make it seem like a tub full of laundry. He moved to open the window facing the east to its fullest, using his eagle vision to pierce the darkness of the night to find Vivian and Malik waiting down below.
Vivian held his sword at her waist with its belt (feeling like a mini Altaïr) and he dropped the prepared rope over the window to have her climb inside. It had been annoying to conceal it since his leather knife belt had to be left behind and Vivian helped him don his 'stocky' Altaïr outfit as he used hay and rope to imitate a belly. He didn't know how she could craft these outfits quickly since he'd originally decided to act as a rope salesman in need of a woman. Five minutes of nagging and altering, he'd concealed it in his robes and practiced his false background of being a spice salesman. Vivian imitated a clucking hen when she grabbed the rope to confirm she'd found it in the dark and he resisted from sighing because he'd distinctly ordered no bird calls were to be used. Malik would have no access and Vivian cursed her luck for having to climb a rope, causing him to smirk since he'd told her no chicken noises. Why didn't people put an emergency wooden ladder or something for emergencies? She wasn't a ninja!
"Signal us for Templar presences" Altaïr hissed from above to use his friend as an alarm and Malik blended into the shadows, hoping there were no rabid animals about. Nonetheless, he'd brought his own weapons to be prepared since they had an entire team to eliminate. Vivian wasn't a fan of climbing on a rope but managed, her fingers aching at the joints when Altaïr helped her inside. She'd never been happier to find stable ground but still saw climbing ropes in gym class as useless since nobody else would be time traveling to the fiasco of a life she had.
Altaïr grasped her shoulders for a quick boost of moral support that he'd never needed before in his life since brothel workers were not in the assassin's manual. She was taken aback by the physical outreach since he'd usually whined like cat when she tried it and he admitted with a sullen sigh, "I've never felt so disgusting in my life, Vivian. She touched me!"
She would've laughed if he didn't appear so serious and asked gently, "I hope not in a no-no place?"
"If she had, I would've set this building on fire" he shot back for the subtle jab of being touched inappropriately and felt slightly calmer when she offered a sympathetic smile.
"It'll pass, think like a Templar and swallow the nasty aftertaste" she advised softly as she placed her hands on his forearms to offer a supportive squeeze to carry him onwards. A hug would've probably sent him scurrying for cover after the encounter and improvised to make him comfortable. It was the manly unemotional boost he needed and he left to take care of tidying the room for their upcoming guest. He looked through a night table to peruse through the drawers for clothing since he didn't want to remove the woman's dress. That would be embarrassing enough and wouldn't sully poor Vivian to that or viewing a naked woman.
Vivian unbuckled his belt to remove and set it on the bed as she observed the small room. Is this how undesirable women made a living in that age? It was odd how blasphemous and sinful it was until the late 20th century when it was a mere slap on the wrist for a woman who worked the streets. She could understand the need for women who were unmarried with a child and couldn't make a living just for that alone but was glad to see times had changed for unmarried single women of modern society. There had been so many lives lived from this point in time to hers and thanked her lucky stars to be from a happy home where she could contribute to society without fear for being a woman.
Of course, that thought went down the crapper when Altaïr revealed a brown linen dress that held no sleeves and was rather on the thin side in fabric. He held it up by the sleeves with a distasteful frown as she eyed it suspiciously and he stated with finality, "Wear this."
It was a good thing they'd never be shopping at Victoria's Secret together- he had horrible taste.
"It's clean and not so revealing" he pointed out quickly to get her moving since they couldn't dawdle and threw the dress at her. She caught it with an indignant squawk because she'd forgotten she had to play the brothel worker part and couldn't wear her decent conservative clothing. He pointed to a changing curtain behind him that had been placed in the rear left corner of the room as the two adjoining walls acted as a protective barrier with the curtain in front.
She flung the dress over the curtain to keep it there while she removed her own clean clothing that held her own beloved germs and sighed aloud. The things she did for this man. She could see his silhouette buckling his trusty weapon belt back into place and raised a brow in thought before asking aloud, "Can you see me through this? Because I totally can."
"I won't dignify that with an answer and I'd sooner stab myself in the eye than look at you" he stated calmly without a change in tone and she rolled her eyes to his mightier-than-thou principles. After being fondled or who knows what, Vivian decided that he carried a little more respect after a little enlightenment.
"You're a charming man, Altaïr" she muttered sarcastically because he held no allure in his words and knowing him, he'd be true to his words to an extent. She withheld a discomforting whimper as she squeezed her robes goodbye for the thin dress and felt eerie at wearing a modern day length with an acceptable show of skin. The thin fabric was a cause of concern since it almost appeared transparent and hoped neither Altaïr nor their expected guest could see her curves. She'd seen worse in clubs and high school proms-
"Are you ready?" he asked quickly since the man would arrive soon and the curtain shifted as she made sure everything was in place. Thankfully, she could keep her little leather shoes on because she wasn't keen of walking barefoot over the floor where. . .ugh, bodily fluids had probably dried.
Her voice was uncertain as she called over hesitantly, "I don't feel comfortable wearing this . . . it could be riddled with disease."
"I told you to keep your undergarments on" Altaïr pointed out swiftly to keep the little badger virtuous and stomped over to where Vivian was changing. She shot him a heated glare when he parted the curtain without asking for permission but said nothing since she needed his help. Otherwise, she would've kicked him out for trespassing. Her hands were fiddling with a tie on top of the left shoulder that held the dress sleeve together and kept adjusting the hold to make sure it wasn't too revealing or giving her a strange toga look. She squeaked in alarm when he grabbed the tie and knotted it tightly before she became indecent. They didn't have time to waste and he observed her appearance as he helped her, mumbling under his breath, "I could've sworn your breasts were smaller."
. . . WHAT?
The comment left her stunned since he was invading her privacy without worry and the fact he'd stated that so casually was daunting. Who would want to walk around with their cleavage showing or hanging out? It would be impossible to run comfortably without them flopping over the place with the nonexistence of the bra. She was glad to the option of taping them down completely. Also, culture dictated for her to be covered up to the maximum. She was no Sue demon that decided it would be cute to prance around with her arms or legs on display because she'd be stoned rather than be called uniquely awesome by others. Her main reason for stiffening to the comment was pure and simple as she questioned, "And who gave your permission to look there? Those puppies are my property."
"Doesn't stop you from looking at mine" he stated evenly with a slight smirk and her cheeks reddened to his remark because their baths at the river often had the two meeting each other on the way out. While she fiddled to make sure everything was in place before leaving her bundle of safety reeds with hasty steps, Altaïr sometimes left the area without placing his undershirt on and it was a tantalizing scene straight out of Baywatch for poor Vivian. She couldn't help the male magnetism! What decent fangirl could when they were faced with an assassin that could break them into tiny pieces but held the allure of ten attractive men rolled into one? He probably held muscles were no muscles were before with all of the training he did.
Altaïr had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike with that fact but just as she was conscious about her lean body that lacked muscle, he was the same due to his scars. He wouldn't prod her further since they had a job to do but her expression was priceless. Her lips gaped like a fish out of water for a moment as she began to resemble a cherry and he added in, "And fix your hair, we need to allure him."
"I don't think he'll care when all he wants is get in my skirt" she stated flatly as they stepped out of the small area since the close distance was turning her redder by the second. Yes, he was attractive physically but she wouldn't be gushing like a schoolgirl since he was her companion. He was Altaïr, the no nonsense assassin, and could kill you just as soon as he looked at you. He wouldn't be giving you a lay in bed worthy of paradise itself and killing you afterwards like Ezio.
Altaïr wagged a lecturing finger to correct her words and stated matter-of-factly, "Every man likes neatly combed hair- it shows you're fertile."
"Great, I've always wanted to create Templar spawn with luxurious hairstyles" Vivian snorted sarcastically and quickly combed her fingers through her hair with a frown. It wasn't her fault the desert heat flattened it and wasn't interested in the attraction qualities of the 1190s. If a man was looking for company in a place like this, she didn't need to look like Angelina Jolie to allure him and make him drop his pants. Ugh, she really did not want the latter. Picking out loose strands that came away from her combing, she puffed up her hair from the bottom and piped up with a small hopeful smile, "Better?"
He hesitated to answer the question since her hair appeared fuller but not neater and quickly muttered, "You tried your best."
Gee, he really knew how to make a girl feel good, didn't he?
They heard footsteps move in their direction and Vivian ran a hand to smooth out the dress as Altaïr hid behind another curtain across the bed, hiding his feet behind a night table. Was it so hard to make curtains that touched the floor? It would make assassinations quite easy. When the door opened, an English man wearing gray attire entered but only had leather armor for protection so she imagined he trusted the woman not to kill him. The dark-haired man actually wasn't as bad looking as the rest she'd encountered but kicked herself since hormones had no place in the archaic era. Vivian slanted her hips to the right and placed her hands on them as she tried out her best seductive voice with words fit for any comedy show, "Looking for a good time, handsome?"
"You're not Fazi" the man stated sharply since the new woman standing in front of him was not one of the continent or the Middle East- not even Asia! If he'd known there was an English girl working the streets, he would've sent her back to England where she'd do it better at one of their brothels. Why bother with a third-world country that wasn't even colonized?
"She's on her period so unless you want a bloodbath, I'm all you got" she answered swiftly and Altaïr resisted from slapping his forehead since women were meek in their time. The fact she'd been so bold about a natural condition made him sigh mentally and hoped she wouldn't botch the scheme. The man noticed her accent didn't match an English woman's, catching his interest, and Vivian continued with a sweet smile, "Besides, I'm the one reserved for regulars when a girl can't handle the task. You're in for a treat."
Instead of a happy Templar foaming at the mouth, the man stated perceptively, "You're English."
Vivian groaned mentally with exasperation and wished to have the olive complexion of Malik that drew masses. She decided improvising was her best option and clasped her hands behind her back to raise her chest in emphasis to draw his eye, "Yes, my parents abandoned me in the outskirts of this village since they had too many to care for and the owner of this establishment took me in. Now, are you here for fun or my life story? If you're here for the first, take off the armor and if not, take a seat on the chair."
Her stomach sank when he began unstrapping pieces to drape over the table next to the door as his back faced Vivian. Altaïr thanked his sixth sense as his special vision pierced the thin curtain to track their movements because he'd keep his promise to Vivian. Otherwise, Malik would throw a bottle of acid in his face. Trying out her charms, she swung her hips to the left and raised the corresponding shoulder as she asked silkily, "So, what brings you to our lovely town?"
The simple reply was, "Business."
Well then, she'd just have to be sultrier and bed worthy than this Fazi to pry some answers. Weren't breasts and ovaries enough for men looking for loose women? Vivian bid goodbye to her bubbly adorable self for the next five minutes as she boarded the harlot boat and left her with a mug to rattle for change.
"We girls love stories, care to share?" she asked sweetly with a wink as she grabbed the man by the shoulders (he was thankfully much shorter than Altaïr) from behind and leaned against him. Her dress was thin as a sheet and felt the warmth from his attire breathe into her skin, causing her mask to crack for a moment. Thankfully, she was leading him to the nearby chair from behind so he saw none of it and Vivian preened innocently with curiosity, "Is it adventure? Searching for a criminal? Setting up a business? I know- you're protecting one of the import merchants!"
The man appeared mildly amused to her guesses as she practically catered to his whims and sat down on the chair to watch her nimble movements. Her appearance was definitely easier on the eyes and the candlelight illuminated the skin that all fair ladies of England carried. Vivian rolled her shoulders (hoping one wouldn't crack from misuse) and arched her chest as she leaned in to smile impishly, "Or a taste for exotic women?"
"A means to end war" the man replied evenly without elaborating and Vivian added an innocent nod in acknowledgement, feigning astonishment.
Walking in circles around the man as she traced his shoulders with her fingertips, Altaïr had to admit the little badger carried her arsenal of charms. He would've preferred her subtler ways rather than have an eel of a woman throw herself at him without warning- wait, why was he comparing the two? Vivian smiled pleasantly as she moved to massage the man's shoulders (crying mentally on the inside since her dreams usually had Ezio in that position) and gushed with a happy sigh, "My, that's adventure in itself. Imagine the prestige for that! Are you roaming new lands you've never seen? Is it exciting?"
"Home is far and my goal is . . . out of my element" he replied cryptically as he tried to pull Vivian into his lap but she dodged out of his grasp, shaking a teasing finger. She smiled charmingly as she tried to be playful prey to keep the man talking and he took the bait since many enjoyed the chase. It was easier than having their woman lie on the bed flat as a board but Vivian was doing it for another reason entirely. She was notorious by dodging him quickly as she managed to keep her sweet smile plastered and he asked with an interested smile, "Have you ever tasted adventure?"
"I'm tasting a bit right now" she grinned slyly as she eyed him with intrigue and moved closer to sit on his lap. Altaïr fought the urge to throw her off the man before she sullied herself but Vivian used the arms of the chair to push herself away before he had the chance to grab her into his arms. She moved to stand in her original spot, hating the candlelight that outlined her body's silhouette in the dress and motioned to the room to state, "I've never lived outside this village so I like hearing about travels. Might you indulge this young soul a view of where you'll roam?"
Altaïr had to admit the crafty historian was really good at creating her personas and kept calm under pressure that would repulse the faint-hearted. He had to admire her acting as she played the innocent brothel worker that dreamed for a brighter future but in its own odd way, some of them actually held such dreams.
"A lake that supposedly births the mighty Nile, very far from here" he answered simply to the true whereabouts but it was enough for Vivian to know they knew where to look. What other lakes around the area matched Lake Victoria itself? Somehow, they were getting their information and tips correctly and Vivian hoped that the order hadn't managed to salvage a POE themselves. Such a discovery could prove a hindrance to their team since that was their advantage over them.
She squeezed his shoulders in an affectionate play, cursing the lack of having muscles herself, and purred with a low tone, "Well, I hope I can make the journey less hazardous for you. My sisters and I are very good at what we do here."
Leaning against the man from behind, she draped herself over his shoulder with a smile and purred huskily, "I will do anything your mind can imagine and I mean anything. I will bleep your bleepity bleep bleep and bleeping bleep it."
And that's exactly how she'd write it in her diary.
Altaïr fought the urge to shake his head in shame to Vivian's charms because she apparently had a mouth to match the most lecherous man on Earth. He tuned out the rest of her words as he decided that Vivian would remain a chirpy innocent woman that poked him with fun rather than . . . the sultry harlot he'd created. Now he knew how Malik felt when she'd teased him with her witty but bold jokes. Nonetheless, he kept an eye on the two to await Vivian's signal as she tried to coax more information from their enemy. Unfortunately, she was right about the rabbit thing and longed for her walking stick to beat the man over the head when he began to have wandering hands. Well, she had pretty much offered to do unmentionable things to the man.
Taking a hilarious quote from an animated show, Vivian had crafted her rescue line specifically. She didn't appreciate having the man trying to get grabby as he pulled her towards the bed that was more than likely riddled with bodily fluids. Trying to avoid that horrible (and nauseous) scenario, she made the man's back face Altaïr's hiding spot as she stood in front of the bed to keep him fixated on her. Grabbing the tie on the top of her dress, she pretended to undo the knot while puckering her bottom lip to state suavely, "Oh no, I'm about to lose my . . . coverage."
She expected Altaïr to silently sneak against the man and do one of his awesome stealth moves that would leave figurative stars in her eyes. Instead, her rescuer practically lunged at the man from behind to sink his hidden blade into the back of his heart. The force was enough to topple Vivian as the man fell forward with a dying grunt to the surprise attack and both fell onto the bed unceremoniously. It was enough to make her want to yell bleeped out words at her companion since she'd been trying avoid touching the bed in the first place! Hadn't he listened to her? No, probably not. Now, she was stuck between a bleeding dead man and a lumpy straw bed that made her want to cry aloud. The bed was one thing but having a dead man atop of her for the first time was a bit frightening since he'd been alive just a few seconds ago. Altaïr was not a man to trifle with and she witnessed his precise deadliness firsthand.
Altaïr decided to bask in his success of the night while Vivian decided that she'd be leaving him penniless tomorrow to run off with sugared goods. Did he completely forget she was being flattened under a dead Templar?
"Could you please get his carcass off me?!" Vivian requested between gritted teeth, trying very hard to ignore the dead man on top of her and scrambled away when he was removed. Quickly, she ran off to fetch her clothes and changed into her comfy robes behind the curtain to discard the awful dress. She'd have to wash her undergarments with a good scrub but was glad for the head to toe coverage. Oh, even the hood felt wonderful over her head as she felt as cozy as a newborn turtle. She hugged herself to shake away the disgust from parading herself in front of a man and the fright from being stuck under said dead man. She was thankful the dress hadn't been stained with blood since the hidden blade hadn't exited through the man's chest but Altaïr held unbelievable strength to a point she'd believed it could've pierced her own. This was not a mission she'd bounce all over the place for and stuffed the dress back where he'd found it as she shuddered, "I've never been so happy for twelfth century clothes. Let's plant a murder weapon and make the assailant a random guy or jilted lover who fled the scene."
Altaïr noticed her hasty speech as she accentuated a few vowels and heard the drawer shake as she closed it rapidly. He grabbed her hands into his to feel they were trembling and her eyes widened with surprise to his action as her lips parted lightly. Her smooth palms contrasted against his rougher skin as he grasped her smaller hands but he offered a sympathetic squeeze and softly asked, "Are you all right?"
"I don't think I'll grow used to death like you" she answered weakly since seeing a person's life wither away into nothing was not something she could shake off her back. Again, another reason she'd receive a fat 'fail' stamp on her file if she ever decided to try out for assassin camp. She appreciated his kindness to check on her but they needed to get the hell out of there quickly for both their sakes. Releasing his hands, she pointed towards the bed where the dead Templar lay and sighed shakily, "At least we have what we need so let's do this and go."
Altaïr perused through the man's pockets to find anything useful as Vivian pulled the heavy corpse higher onto the bed. She arranged the stiffening corpse to appear as if he'd been sleeping facedown when the attack occurred but made sure to leave no trace of her presence as she eyed him for any hair strands. When ready, they untied the unconscious woman that lay in the washtub (she'd shaken her head to the poor woman because nobody deserved to be stuffed there) and draped her over the man. They wanted the two to appear as a sleeping pair and Vivian rearranged the sheets with a slight grimace while Altaïr admired their handiwork. They made quite a fetching team since neither he nor Malik could get into places that were more suitable for women. Vivian shook her head in disbelief to his approving glance as she stood beside him and grasped his upper arm to hiss softly, "Don't do that. Those are the beginnings of a serial killer."
He gave her a deadpan stare since his profession required killing and stated with a wry drawl, "Well, I do kill-"
"Not innocent people" she interjected quickly to prevent stab happy assassin that would ruin the brotherhood entirely and tugged him towards the window. A smile touched her lips when she heard him fussing with a grumble of 'Vivi-annn' as he accentuated the last letters. Somehow, he managed to cheer her up with simple words and tones alone but she reminded firmly, "We have to finish our job here."
"Is the historian ordering her leader now? Well, I didn't think you had the gumption" he smirked haughtily to her little defiant spark and she swatted his shoulder before he squatted gracefully onto the windowsill. He grabbed the rope into his right hand to grip it securely and smirked at his feisty partner in crime. She'd done extremely well today and he was satisfied enough to say he was proud of her.
"Don't dare me to cut the rope and dirty those pretty robes of yours" she shot back wittily with a small grin since she was pretty sure he'd do a majestic backflip in midair before landing in a convenient stack of hay. Altaïr matched her competitive grin with a smirk, glad to put a smile of sorts back on her face, and descended the rope first.
Vivian's grin faltered when he descended with graceful ease to the ground and knew she'd be flopping in midair like a wet cat. The universe would implode on her if he decided to use eagle vision to find her and accidentally glimpsed underneath her skirt. After all, it had been his order that she leave her trusty breeches behind.
Vivian had been left waiting inside a wagon full of hay with the premise that the assassins would return to fetch her to attack the Templar camp. As she hid between the awful smelling bales (could hay possibly expire to resemble rotten eggs?), she noticed the two familiar figures approach her and ducked further inside to resemble a rabbit inside its burrow. If anyone dared to pull her out, she'd scream and kick straight for the crotch with her legs. Her green eyes peeked out of the hay bales (covering her nose the whole time) and blinked with bewilderment when her teammates approached the wagon. Did something happen?
Her head popped out of the hay like a curious gopher's and she balked when she noticed blood on Altaïr's sleeves as the white moonlight bathed them. Looking to Malik, his dark clothing made it hard to distinguish but his hair was wispy on the ends which meant he'd brushed it back. She highly doubted he'd doused himself in water to parade through town to sway the female masses so sweat was the obvious answer. Yep, her dear dai had done battle without her to cheer in awe.
"You . . . there was no plan to come back for me, was there?" she asked flatly about being left behind and crossed her arms for being left out of the group bonding. Or maybe the two needed male bonding. The dark crevices of her mind hopped over the other side of male bonding to delve deeper into dangerous territory and she shooed the thoughts of the two embracing out of her head. Damn you, tumblr. She shook her head to wipe her mind clear of absurdities, squashing her inner fangirl into mush, and pouted at both men for being left behind like a small puppy.
"No, you're not ready for combat, Vivian" Malik answered gently with his older brother tone since she always tagged along to help but she wasn't ready to face enemies. The village outside Giza had been an exception since their forces had been outnumbered by his and Altaïr's experience but they would never head into battle with a civilian in tow. The Templars would never be underestimated and although their numbers were trickling down, neither man would leave her alone with one enemy for more than a minute. He rapped the top of her head gently in the same manner Altaïr used when he was ready to lecture and stated matter-of-factly, "You need to keep training to defend yourself and we don't want you to be a close combatant."
"I'll leave all that goodness for you two" she sighed softly since she wanted to lend a hand but it was better to be alive than dead. She wasn't looking forward to gutting somebody and didn't want the same on her end so she'd stick to her old decoy tactics. Either way, she was happy to escape the wagon of hay as she hopped out and landed unsteadily due to its height. Altaïr grasped her shoulders to stop her wobbling before she tipped over and she straightened her legs to keep her joints locked. She hoped her clothes wouldn't linger with the smell of hay for too long since she and Malik couldn't stand it. Shaking the sleeves of her robes to throw off hay that stuck to the gray fabric, she piped up with a bright smile, "So, where to?"
"We're leaving tonight, the Nile will carry us upstream and we will make camp for the night" Altaïr ordered quickly to hasten their escape since multiple deaths would be drawing eyes in the small town. They wouldn't be pinpointed since their camp was miles away and they'd never spoken to anyone so they were in the clear.
"We've never traveled by night" Vivian stated worriedly since the fear of tipping over ravenous crocodiles at night was terrifying since a simple thud could turn deadly. It was bad enough to travel over water during the day but the night would hinder their vision since they weren't nocturnal. She frowned at having to row into water that only had moonlight illuminating their way and pointed out, "There's gators and mad hippos lurking about."
"We'll be very careful, Vivian" Altaïr assured confidently since he wouldn't let her get eaten by hungry enraged wildlife, no matter how irritating she could become. She was ready to add in a few more reasons against night travel but he pushed her onwards as he led the way out of the small trading post.
She tagged along behind him, her shorter strides catching up to his with a quick run, and declared aloud to soothe any worries, "Of course not, the mighty Altaïr is not someone you truffle with."
"Truffle?" he asked baffled to her word choices because there were sentences that truly made no logical sense. What in the world was a truffle? Months ago, he would've argued until he was red in the face to her outlandish babble to hustle her to adjust to his manner of speaking. He realized after a few weeks that the more he fought, the more he lost the battle and conceded to Vivian's quirkiness. Now, he simply allowed her little ramblings and smirked to scoff under his breath with amusement, "You're insane sometimes, Vivian."
"As a loon, you should know this . . . comedy wise" she quipped smartly with a perky little smile about her humorous nature and he ruffled her loose wavy hair. Her smile widened to show her teeth completely as she enjoyed his friendly pats on the head and sighed airily, "Don't hate my wordplay, grand master, hate the game."
"We should use torches to guide our path and prevent animals from sneaking up" Malik suggested as he took the leadership role to leave the town since the two were busy pestering themselves with humor. He never thought he'd see Altaïr turning a playful leaf in his personality but Vivian was slowly bringing his sarcastic edge to the surface. His gaze turned awkward when he noticed Altaïr kept ruffling Vivian's short locks into a large ball of frizz that resembled sheep's wool when pulled apart by a tailor's fingers.
Yes, the two were indeed turning into quite the odd pair.
"Good thinking, you'll be our lighthouse" Vivian piped up enthusiastically and pushed away Altaïr's hand from her head when she finally realized his intention. Of course, she didn't see the giant frizzy ball on top of her head and took his endless rubbing as his joke. The assassin added two more noogies onto her head to end his night and she complained with a soft whine, "You're rubbing my scalp raw."
"Exactly" he smirked with satisfaction to the added bonus to her crazy hairstyle and received an insulted 'why, you!' but he pushed her along the path.
Malik chuckled softly and hoped nobody would notice the armored robed man and the woman with a round ball of frizzy hair on her head that resembled a poodle's. For the moment, he was the sanest and most innocent appearing individual of the group.
Vivian smiled impishly as she felt her bold humor returning in full swing and asked slyly, "So, how was your date with the brothel worker? Did she set your flag on full mast? Allow your hidden blade to unsheathe? Make you howl-"
He covered her mouth to end her scandalous pseudonyms because his time with the strange woman had not been pleasant in the slightest. She grimaced immediately since he hadn't cleaned his hands after battling enemies and thinned her lips tightly as she nudged his side with her elbow. Surely, he wouldn't deny a poodle-haired woman a boon? He released her when she whimpered pleadingly and furrowed her brows to garner sympathy from the man. Wiping her mouth clean with her sleeve, she wagged a finger and chastised with a disgusting frown, "Normally, I'd be bouncing for being manhandled by you but I've no idea where those hands have been."
Having discovered that she was wary of unwashed hands, Altaïr decided to use it for his advantage. He held them out to walk towards her and like a repellant, she fled from his vicinity to avoid being smeared with anything. Today was not one of her best days as she felt like a common doormat and took refuge next to Malik. Faithful kind Malik, he'd never let anything happen to her. Altaïr frowned to her easy copout since Malik turned into a watchdog when they acted foolish in public and snorted sarcastically, "Petty move, Vivian."
"But effective" she quipped back with a proud smile and proceeded to emphasize her win with a cocky swagger. Frankly, it reminded him of an old lady walking with a broken ankle or a painful hip. Vivian forgot that neither man knew anything about the 1970s or Huggybear's pimp walk.
Malik pinched the bridge of his nose since he was exhausted after a long walk, stakeout, and eliminating enemies. He didn't need his two parrots fighting at this hour of the night and made his sentiments clear by quietly stating, "Urge to yell rising."
"We'll be good" Vivian piped up quickly to prevent a volcano eruption after what happened on the road to the pyramids. This time, she and Altaïr were too tired to create a jazzy jingle so the three walked back to camp quietly.
A/N: This chapter was fun to write but it took a bit to edit since I'm currently with a bad sinus infection and hate the dizzying effect it has while I type (which is why it's late). Apart from that, I had the most fun writing Altaïr's reaction to physical contact with a stranger and Vivian's decoy uses. Somewhere in the far away future, Ezio is giving them a thumb's up for playing streetwalkers to get the job done. Lol. Next time, we'll have baby Darim make his entrance to the world and a bonding moment between Altaïr and Vivian after he kills her forest friend- among other things.
WhatTheCensoredXD: I'm glad everyone loves that witty little woman but unfortunately, she has no Facebook account. Knowing Vivian's tendency to live in libraries, she'd rather research on a computer. Lol. Since I'm planning on a sequel, she'll be explaining a lot of things to Altaïr when he steps into her shoes and he becomes addicted to soap operas and water faucets. Hopefully, he won't think a modern toilet is a water basin for drinking. XD
xVentressx: It did the same to me when I was writing its craziness too. Lol
noveltycourage: Thank you for having this story as your favorite, I'm glad the characters and chapters delight you. I have a different issue with ffnet since I use my iPad to read and constantly have to log in just to favorite stories. I hope you liked this chapter too!
Lostwithoutdoubt: Thanks, I love doing the best with each chapter and constatnyly ask myself 'how can I make it better?'. In the next chapter, they're near the year marker of knowing each other and they've come a long way since the story began- especially Altaïr and Vivian. Vivian can poke her little jokes and take his own witty replies but the two definitely watch over each other. It will continue throughout the chapters until Vivian recognizes she sees him as more than a friend because he's no longer the fictional character she admired but a human man with flaws just like her.
Polinka123: I agree with you on the Washington/Connor pairing, that's a huge age gap and the fact Connor kept getting the bad end of the stick most of the time would not give Washington an allure factor for him. Thank you so much for loving my tales, I craft them to the best of my abilities to suit each story background. This story is definitely full of humor as it pokes at Altaïr's cranky side and Connor definitely needs loving in all forms. Since Ubisoft pretty much stated that he's a virgin to the end of the game, that puts a hamper on poor Caroline and I'm sure Connor is kicking a box somewhere. lol
Dolce Latte van Crème: This trio gets in a lot of crazy spots and I've yet to reach the chapter where Altaïr plays a fisherman for a few weeks and Vivian impersonates a man to get a job. Don't worry; I'm sure a lot of the readers have been in your situation since some scenes are wacky. Vivian mentions Ezio to Altaïr but she never really implies deeper to who he is due to her fear of altering the future. Since she 'landed' in his world during December 2009 and the news about Ezio not being a blood relation of Altaïr's came in 2011 (that's the earliest I could find) before Revelations, she knows nothing about it. In her current mindset, the two are related so she'll be in for a huge surprise when he gets back home and realizes her nagging was for nothing.
KrnYong: I'm glad to know about it since I've never tried it. Vivian's such a little bookworm that she'd be interested in just about anything in Altaïr's world. Haha. She'll be making animals friends named Shmoopy and Rigby in the next chapter so she's always humorously cooky. Their relationship is definitely altering as we'll see the thawing of his icy façade in the following chapters since their isolated travels will bring them closer together. As for bad OC's, I've read my own share too but half-naked women and shape shifters is where I draw the line on sanity.
ShizukaRen-Hime: Somehow, I can imagine Vivian declaring 'challenge accepted' since she's always eager to prove herself to Altaïr for respect points. She always uses Ezio as her escape fantasy when she wants to wipe her mind clean and it's humorous when Altaïr begins to become jealous of him because he wants to be number one (unbeknownst to him, he already is). You'll definitely start noticing private comments from either as the chapters' progress as they grow closer to their little romance.
coporal cat: They definitely are an awesome trio or as Vivian would say 'the three Musketeers or three Amigos'. :D
Next Time: Pets Galore & Baby Darim
The trio had now counted a total of ten months on the road, give or take a few days, and the enduring warm weather had turned Vivian's beige complexion a shade darker from the sun exposure. Both Malik and Altaïr had now clocked in their birthday card to turn twenty-eight while Vivian turned twenty-two as the year 1193 was in full force. Since Roman calendars weren't used, she pinpointed the month as either May or June. She couldn't believe she was close to spending her first year in the Middle Ages and was actually living to tell the tale. Well, she almost pushed it when she made a paper triangle hat with a drawn smiley face for Altaïr's birthday many months ago but survived. The man turned into a mewling kitten when you cooked him food, especially lamb, and she'd taken note to prevent a meltdown.
"I would really like to see some rain" Malik commented with a woeful sigh since he'd borne heat waves that he didn't think were possible. The fact that mosquitoes buzzed more frequently near the riverbanks were incredibly annoying and Vivian was on high alert. They couldn't catch malaria in the middle of nowhere since the cure would be very hard to find since they weren't anywhere near quinine. Instead, Vivian had taken to using garlic and lemon juice as a natural repellant while washing their clothes in rosemary infused water. The men had to hand it to their little bookworm because otherwise, they'd be bedridden and awaiting death during the first month of mosquito season. They'd literally encountered a thick cloud of the buggers when docking at the riverbank and had run to make their camp further inland.
Vivian whimpered under her hood as her cheeks were rosy pink from the heat and lamented, "I miss ice cream . . . why was I hurled into such an archaic era? At least Ezio's could've made me gelato with a come hither look- all you give me are ferocious looks."
"I am so tired of hearing about Ezio's and his greatness because he's nothing but a sleeping mat for lusty women" Altaïr grumbled apathetically since the man failed to leave Vivian's list of fictional heroes and was ready to chuck his hood into the river. He knew his era wasn't the best when compared to any future century where everything was better and the heat wasn't making it better. If he had the power, he'd blast himself to a breezy isolated island where only he and his falcon lived.
"And you're not?" she grinned mischievously as she mimicked his gruff tone by deepening her vocal tone to low timbre and wagged her brows to flirt, "Maria, although we were enemies and all, let's roll in a bale of hay where we play find the hidden blade. This time, it's the one in my pants."
She received a whack from his oar to her left leg for her brazen comments while Malik hid his laughter with snickering. Whenever she spoke of others in a humorous setting like that, he had no issue, but involving herself in it. . .he turned into a papa wolf. Vivian's fingers rubbed the wet skirt over her legs to spread the cool water over her hidden skin and she smirked slyly, "Ha! I welcome the wet splatter, my friend. Now onto Adha: Hey baby, we already know each other amicably so let's-"
"Who in blazes is Adha?" Altaïr asked incredulously since the name failed to register in his mind at all. He never tried to ignore that he shared a past with Maria, both antagonistic and romantic, but he'd never heard of the other woman. Had Vivian decided to throw in fictional women to further humiliate him?
Her green eyes blinked comically underneath her hood, resembling an owl in the darkness, and believed she'd heard wrong. The woman was in a game, after all! Her brow furrowed with confusion and she supplied helpfully, "You know, that woman that was supposed to be the holy chalice itself? A POE? You were tracking her down like a madman on sugar because you were apparently madly in love with her and had to rescue her. Well, it didn't say you were madly in love but I'm obviously exaggerating for comedy points."
Her shoulders sagged as she looked at the assassin closely as he faced her while rowing over the side. She had his full attention and she was inclined to believe he was being truthful on the matter but his piercing stare was quite hard to decipher. Hers hands fidgeted over her knees as she furrowed her brow and sighed for a little help, "I can't. . .it's hard to tell your happy face from your 'everything is at peace' face. Even your rage and mild rage is hard to discern!"
"I think you're mistaken for another game or one of those horrible fanfictions" Altaïr stated calmly with a faint smile because it sounded ridiculous in his head. Women informants of their order were very careful since they were rarely utilized and when they were, nobody noticed them. They were everyday women and if they ever required help, an assassin would be nearby. They never led them close to Templars themselves, only their lackeys or informants. He flicked his thumb towards the dai, who decided to douse his hood with water from the river, and stated matter-of-factly, "I've never met anyone by that name, you can as Malik."
"He's right and I know everyone" he piped up amicably with a confident smile since he socialized more with their brotherhood than Altaïr. Whenever the man had been invited to venture to the village, he made up an excuse, or when they drank, he left to study in the library. The man could've truly been the monk he dressed as if he'd been a civilian. He smirked mischievously as he glanced at Vivian and added in slyly, "He's also very horrible with women. He left his journals everywhere so I pretty much knew the ones he swooned. . .which sadly, weren't very many."
"How dare you read my diary-" Altaïr exclaimed indignantly with mortified shock about his past writing back in Masyaf before 1190 and quickly corrected his words to sound masculine, "Journal- my journal?!"
"It wasn't hard to find. . .and you left them open" Malik pointed out flatly to his tendencies to run out of their shared room to head downstairs to eat in the dining hall. It's not like he actually looked for them, they were right there on his friend's bed! He really didn't want to know about his first kiss and how his head hit the poor village girl in the nose.
Vivian couldn't believe her ears and coughed as she was flabbergasted by the strange yet joyous news. Oh, she could hear a hallelujah choir somewhere! She'd read about the game and its plot, sounding completely absurd to her as to how a person could be an item of power. Even as a wielder, they'd have been able to escape Templars. Quite honestly, it had sounded like a Sue story straight out of fanfiction- especially when Altaïr acted OOC by blurting out an assassin's password of all things in public. Yes, he'd been teeming with arrogance by that time but the private snafu in Solomon's Temple varied to a public scenario.
Altaïr blinked awkwardly to the eerily wide smile on her face and she gushed with relief, "Oh, thank goodness. It was such a strange game they attached to your awesome name for profit. I'll spare you the horror and tell you the whole point was about rescuing a woman that claimed that and she told you to kill this traitor that was your second-in-command and-"
"We killed him- shot him off his horse and he broke his neck" Malik quickly informed as he relaxed against the side of the boat to hear this conversation. Vivian winced to that painful death since she'd rather die from a wound than have her neck broken. After seeing way too many Bruce Lee movies, she wanted to avoid such a death.
Vivian formed a circle with her lips as that piece of history varied from her own timeframe but continued on, "Apparently, you were madly in love with her and didn't hesitate to show off your fancy acrobatic moves of bodacious awesomeness-"
She hesitated as he shot her an irritated glare as she treaded near her exaggerated narrator's voice and cleared her throat, "Then you were super melancholic about finding her after she was kidnapped into a boat- again! You'd think the woman would've stuck close to you or stuck to a safe zone rather than let you go after the villain. Of course, you promised this super dramatic and romantic 'I'll find you!' and the game ended. We later learned she died so what the hell was the point of the Chalice in the first place?! I can rest happy knowing that only Maria has been deemed worthy of 'Altaïr's Seal of Love' so my ovaries can cry happily."
"There is absolutely no way a human can have the powers of an extinct race that could surpass mine and wielding a piece will save you out of the toughest binds if you're a descendant" Altaïr commented swiftly as he shook his head to the ridiculous idea and hoped they hadn't made him bed that woman as well in the game. Didn't that game company have enough showing the conquests of the sexual deviant known as Ezio? He began rowing again to rid himself of that annoying fact but couldn't help but rant, "It is absurd. How dare they make lies about my life? It's hard enough living day to day but they don't put these moments into the game. Not even my own descendants wield POE-like abilities or claim to. It's blasphemous, it's-"
"An irresponsible writing team that wanted to give you a hot girl to play hide the soap with?" she stated sarcastically and his face fell to her crude words. With the passage of time, Vivian had become rather liberal with her tongue but words relating to sexual relations unsettled him. He preferred it when she was witty and eager to please him (platonically, of course) since she was more manageable then. She hugged herself with joy since attempting to do that on him would have her swimming with the hippos and grinned, "I'm beaming with joy to know that wasn't true. Oh, if only your fans could hear of it- some would rejoice, others would cry blasphemy for being robbed of a nice rear end. Not as nice as Miranda Lawson's never-ending debut in Mass Effect gameplay but-"
"Vivian, what have I told you about commenting on people's bodies" Malik lectured gently before his friend snapped at her and she smiled innocently. She loved having a wingman that would protect her from being verbally mauled by the stern eagle.
"But the pri-i-i-ize!" she emphasized dramatically as she bit her bottom lip in reference to her favorite game besides Assassin's Creed. What would await her in Mass Effect 3? Or AC 3? Wow, she was waiting for a lot of trilogies, wasn't she? Was Facebook still popular? Would her comfy Snuggie survive through the years? Had reality TV finally been blocked off the air to stop killing the remaining brain cells in American society? If not, she was perfectly fine where she was. Then again, she longed to see her sisters and hear her father's voice.
Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, I was absolutely joyous, so tune in next time for more wackiness to take a break from reality. :)