Music Inspiration: Howard Shore- "The Adventure Begins" and Jesper Kyd- "Sofia Sartor"
Vivian and The Great Gender Bender
As the trio traveled south of the African coast, Malik kept a keen eye on Altaïr's behavior as it began to shift over the weeks. He kept Vivian's company more than his whenever they weren't speaking about assassin business. If there was a camel ride to be undertaken for hours, he would hoist her onto his camel rather than letting her travel with him. Altaïr probably didn't see the difference as he adapted the new actions into his normal everyday behavior but Malik was quite the observer. He wouldn't exactly accuse the man of having an attractive inclination towards Vivian since he was still developing his socializing skills. Still, he'd never seen his friend act that way with any women. During his arrogant days, Altaïr told women to consider themselves lucky for earning his attention and although he treated them respectfully, he always saw himself as being right 100% of the time. It was a trait that managed to squeeze through the hubris purge years ago and the one that led Vivian to clashing with him. However, rather arguing until he was blue in the face, Altaïr conceded when he was wrong and stuck to teasing her by pretending to use a haughty front.
To his great and glorious relief, their new tightknit friendship meant no arguments as they solved everything peacefully. For the first time, he hoped that the end had finally come for hearing 'Malik, would you kindly' because he was done parenting the two. Nowadays, he could do as he wished with his tasks and breathe easy at knowing he didn't have to tell the two to shut up. At the moment, he was enjoying sketching the coastline of Mozambique from a shady spot as they took a rest from traveling. The camels were happily resting under the shade provided by a cave while Malik played caretaker.
As for Vivian and Altaïr, the two were enjoying a private walk down the shore as the cold water cooled their tired feet. The sight of the coast served to remind them that they were close to finding the port to Madagascar to find the next item and afterwards, the western tip of South Africa. For the meantime, Vivian decided to lure the assassin to be carefree in a simple wooden hoop game. During his free time, he had carved the item for her for entertainment as they traveled and now she was pulling him into the fun.
And so, as Altaïr stood on the beach barefoot with breeches pulled up to his knees and a sleeveless tunic . . . he realized he wasn't a beach person. The sand made his toes itchy and he couldn't keep Vivian in place as he jogged after her. Vivian giggled happily as she followed the rolling wooden hoop down the shore, looking back at the stoic assassin. Every once in a while, he hollered about maintaining a close distance in case danger lurked. Vivian trusted him well enough to protect her and she turned around when he hollered again to chide gently, "Come now, I'm having fun with this and I'm from across the ocean centuries from here. Get over here and live a little!"
"Vivian, you would find joy with a torn sack" he stated dryly to her joy with the simplest of things but admired that trait. Who wouldn't love a woman whose laughter and happiness came from something as simple as a wooden hoop? Most women would be happy in finding a suitable husband with sizable property rather than a simple toy of all things! Still, it was why he whittled it for her in the first place as the coast provided ample space for her to explore. Her optimism stayed afloat with each obstacle they faced and he was content watching her play with the wooden hoop over the sand.
She smiled impishly as her feet splashed over the water and waved the stick in his direction to say, "Well, at least my life will have a little joy to hold onto when we jump into the jaws of hell."
Grabbing the hoop off the sand, she held it out towards him and challenged, "Tell you what, you outrun me in a race with this hoop and I'll praise you every time you talk."
"No, that's not enticing enough" he rejected with a small smirk as she waved the hoop in the air. It would be fairly easy to keep the thing upright with a stick and didn't see it as a challenge at all. Of course, he wouldn't tell her that in order to nab an easy win and a hefty prize.
"I'll clean your laundry for a week, even your stinky braies" she grinned smugly to offer her next prize and laughed at the end because washing underwear was not appealing. Admired hero or not, she drew the line as a fan at washing undergarments. If he lived in the modern era, she'd have no issue due to washing machines but scrubbing out stains on underwear was humiliating enough. The only reason she added the last part was to see his face because he was a stickler for being squeaky clean and lacking any body odor.
He grabbed a seashell off the sand and hurled it over her head in retaliation to her jab. How dare she imply he was an unsanitary man? And how dare she mention his underwear! She laughed merrily when he objected indignantly with an offended frown, "My clothes have no foul sweat, you harpy. I accept- just to see your scrunched up red little face when you lose."
"You just want a maid, don't you?" she asked flatly with amusement and he chuckled because who wouldn't enjoy free clothes washing? Whenever she went to wash her clothes, he threw in his colored clothing without asking and threw a thank you. Half of the time, she chucked it right back and only agreed when he offered to take care of a task for her. She turned the hoop in her hands like a steering wheel and grinned cheekily, "I know for a fact you've seen all of my sore loser faces. You've beaten me at everything but cooking and that's only because you pour handfuls of salt into everything."
"It makes food tasty" he reasoned with a pout to his lack of culinary skills. Assassins weren't made to be world class chefs . . . although it would make it easier to poison a Templar's food supply. Hmm, he would keep that in mind when he returned to Masyaf.
"It will also kill your arteries given enough time" she pointed out sarcastically since an assassin with hypertension would be ironic because he was incredibly lean. During their stay in Lake Victoria, she managed to nab a feel of his upper torso (not intentionally, of course) and the man was more muscle than bone. Regardless of his physical fitness, the man ate horribly in the terms of nutrition but she couldn't blame him when education and adequate food wasn't available. The only reason they currently ate well was due to naturally caught food but when they shopped at a bazaar, Altaïr usually bought the cheapest items to save money. This, of course meant, pieces with more fat than meat and grains that weren't the best of the crop. She lowered the hoop to smile earnestly in regards to his health but stated matter-of-factly, "I want you to die an old man or honorably- not sweating like a hog while you eat a super salty lamb chop."
This time, he had to chuckle softly to her imagination because he wouldn't want the latter either out of embarrassment. Age would slowly decrease the efficiency of his skills and he'd rather have them that way rather than lose them due to health issues of his own making. She surprised him with the next words out of her mouth, "I'd rather you die a wrinkly but handsomely healthy old man than one that can barely reach for his coveted salt while he wheezes from heart failure."
Every time she complimented him, he had the urge to grasp her shoulders in a fond squeeze but stayed his hand. He had no right to do that, right? She was a little badger meant to scuttle back to her family in the future time. If he decided to tie her up and drag her to Masyaf to stay with him, she'd undoubtedly hate him . . . but why did he want to keep her so close? Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Vivian set her wooden hoop on the sand and call out, "Get ready and. . .Go!"
She took off with her stick leading the hoop down the coast and Altaïr gave chase when he saw her running. Further north of the coast, Malik merely batted an eye and reasoned that whatever was happening . . . was best left up to them without him playing monkey in the middle. Altaïr didn't take very long to catch up to her due to his longer strides and Vivian saw his stick getting close to the hoop in an attempt to swipe it away.
She grabbed the famous maroon sash from behind to cause him to falter in his run and he yelled accusingly, "You're cheating, Vivian!"
"It's only to spare my nose the horror" she shot back with a laugh but released him as she tried to get an edge in by honorable means. It was easier said than done! His agility and dexterity were enough to keep her from pushing ahead in their run as he took control of the hoop.
"Cheaters never win, you scamp!" he chastised and began to outrun her with ease as his longer legs helped to cover the distance at a faster pace. The man was like an Olympic marathon runner while she was a couch potato against him. What was he, the Bionic Man? She couldn't outrun a master that did parkour on a daily basis and had more stamina in those long lean legs than her short stubbier ones.
Altaïr won the race when he passed a decomposing log (their win marker) while Vivian tumbled into the sand in her haste to finish. Well, she tried her best and received a nice mouthful of sand in return. The winner, however, raised the hoop over his head in victory before chucking it aside carelessly as he savored his win. Turning around, he found Vivian lying on the sand as she pouted to her loss but chucked when she saw him resemble Rocky Balboa.
He helped Vivian stand on her feet as she wiped her mouth free of sand and dusted herself off. The winning smirk on his face didn't make the loss easier and her shoulders slumped as she sighed with dramatic misery, "Do you want to smell like fresh soap or sunlight fried clothes?"
He snorted to her little quip since clothes barely carried washing scents until you mixed in herbs into the cleaning water. When none of his companions were looking his way, he cut sprigs of herbs to place within his clothes as he folded them to keep them from smelling. It was an era without deodorant and where body odor became an entity itself so they were all meticulous about their hygiene. Besides, he didn't want to revolt his enemies during a mission.
She wagged her finger quickly to show that she wasn't done and added in, "But I'm not washing underwear, mister, that's private assassin territory. For all I know, it'll automatically make me your wife and you already hate my cooking."
"I won't demean either of us" he stated coolly because he wasn't letting anyone look at his undergarments and poked the tip of her nose. She smiled to the physical touch "Besides, I wouldn't want to make you jealous with my washing talents as a husband. I'd only be good for cleaning, protection, and lovemaking."
"Your single hip gyrating move doesn't make you great" she scoffed to chide him since the archaic era had yet to witness the liberties of sex and watched his brow twitch with offense to her witty jab. How dare she claim he was subpar in the bedroom arena? Well, he probably was but she didn't need to know that! He chased her down the beach for the cocky jab as she ran with a giddy laugh for winning the verbal round. Well, at least she could claim a tiny Lego sized victory there.
He caught her with ease as her speed didn't add any difficulty to his running, grasping her by the shoulders. She'd never best him at anything- well, maybe playing a decoy- but he kept her growing skills sharp. Her laughter echoed through the beach as he pulled her to his chest to keep her at bay before she escaped his sight like a true imp.
"I'll be a good girl now, I promise" she chuckled jovially as her playful mood calmed since running alongside him pushed her limitations to the max. It didn't take much on his part to catch her so she'd be out of breath faster than he would. He released her on her word and she smiled brightly at being free, smoothing out her robes. He couldn't help but snort to her vain attempt to appear sophisticated in the middle of nowhere but then again, he'd nagged her repeatedly in the past year about it. She shook her shoes to throw off sand and piped up cheerfully, "How about a victory song?"
"You didn't win" he scoffed playfully and flicked the bottom of her ear gently. Each time he managed a touch on her skin brought him delight and her smile doubled it.
She waved a hand in dismissal and reminded matter-of-factly, "When have I ever sung about myself? This is the 'Altaïr Show' I'm running here."
He chuckled softly to her enthusiastic dramatizing and wondered what she had up her sleeve when she began,
"There are despots and dictators
Political manipulators
There are blue bloods with the intellects of fleas
There are kings and petty tyrants
Who are so lacking in refinements
They'd be better suited swinging from the trees
He was born and raised to kill
No one has ever had his skill
In a thousand years of Creed democracy
An enigma and a mystery
In Syrian History
The quintessence of perfection that is he
He's the sovereign mentor of the Assassin nation
He's the sternest dude in creation
He's a hep cat in the grand master's new clothes
Years of such selective breeding
Generations of Adam have been leading
To this miracle of life that we all know
What's his name?
Altaïr, Altaïr, Altaïr...
He's the grand master of the Order
He's the one to cease Templar disorders
He's the alpha, the omega, a to z
And this perfect world will spin
Around his every little whim
'Cause this perfect world begins and ends with him
What's his name?
Altaïr, Altaïr, Altaïr!"
"Vivian" he laughed aloud to her eccentric dancing as she wiggled her hips and shook her hands in the air. For the first time, he wasn't chastising her song and she waved one finger to tell him she wasn't done with her crafty music.
"You'd be the coolest dude in the nation
Or the best assassin in creation
But if you ain't got friends then nothing's
Worth the fuss
A perfect world will come to be
When everybody here can see
That a perfect world begins and ends
A perfect world begins and ends
A perfect world begins and ends with us
What's his name?
Altaïr, Altaïr, Altaïr. . .
Altaïr, Altaïr, Alta-a-a-aïr."
She finished dancing her silly little jig while he merely watched with an indifferent face but his eyes said otherwise. They were filled with mirth at watching her careless dancing and she stopped to wipe her brow with a smile, "You'll never stop this rhyming wagon."
She stuck out her hand to draw him towards the shoreline, holding the wooden hoop under the other arm. Hesitation pricked at his mind since Vivian was unreadable with her sneaky mind but her smile held no mischief as she gazed at him. The red tinting on the apple of her cheeks brought a smile from him as all of her imperfections- from her horrible singing, boyish style of dress, insane fear of insects- made her perfect in her own way. She was growing on him in ways he wouldn't have imagined months ago and although his mission was crystal clear, his eye was straying to his little partner in crime that failed to leave his side.
He grasped her hand, allowing her to lead him down the shoreline as they left their footprints in the sand as their temporary marker in time. His fingers entwined between hers to make sure she didn't scamper off without him and to explore that physical bonding he sought to understand. When she didn't object to his action, he smiled faintly for the opportunity and asked, "Where are we going?"
"To find Malik and make a sandcastle" she answered cheerfully because she'd make the best of her time being on the beach. After wandering the hot desert and humid jungles, the coast was a pleasing contrast to enjoy with its breezy climate and empty shores. She missed being close to the ocean after living her life next to the Pacific Ocean and told him with a happy grin, "You can't spend a day at the beach without making a sand castle. It's mandatory and an assassin never sullies his honor."
"It won't bring me embarrassment, will it?" he asked suspiciously and tugged her hand to halt her. Vivian tended to do some crazy things he didn't agree with due to his cautious nature but she shook her head.
"No, just enjoyable fun as ordinary people" she smiled sincerely and pulled him onwards but his strong build caused her to bounce back like flubber. She hit her back against his side from the resistance as he failed to move with her. Hmm, was he exhibiting dominant doggy behavior now that she was overstimulated with the open coast? Her eyes narrowed humorously as she grinned to his easy maneuver to subdue her and chuckled, "You are a marble wall, Mr. Assassin. Strong and sleek with your polished edge to withstand time."
His honey hued gaze met hers and she felt her heart flutter from the piercing amber flecks as she saw the warmth in his eyes. My, could he be any more attractive? Where was Ezio when she sorely needed him? He could kill her mood with a single flirty comment. She averted her gaze since staring at him was comparable to the sun and she didn't want to end up a pile of goo from her attraction to him. Her humor defense came wonderfully in handy to avoid blushing like a schoolgirl with her very first crush and she joked, "I'm like a river pebble- loves traveling anywhere and has multiple uses when I'm fished out."
"Even the most common stone can be beautiful" he murmured softly and she felt like sappy goo all over again as her heart beat faster. Curse her physiological reactions! How was she supposed to beat back her attraction when he uttered things like that? Still, she couldn't help gushing over the comment and smiled in gratitude. It wasn't every day that Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad offered a compliment and she'd seize it to chew on its goodness for a long while. The inner fangirl hugging her Altaïr plushy exploded into confetti when he added in, "I'm glad you like traveling with me so I hope you won't be fished out soon."
Her cheeks remained with their rosy tint when he led her on a leisurely paced walk down the beach, hand in hand.
That. . . .simply complicated things for her.
Their arrival to the port of Quelimane was not what they expected because luck was with them that Arabic influence was strong in the small settlement. There were Swahili speaking tribes that passed by since the port was a trading post due to the Indian Ocean. It was a much calmer setting than Lake Victoria as fishermen filled the docks and merchants piled into the large bazaars every morning. Inns were scattered throughout the small single level wooden homes with their dried palm leaf roofs that welcomed visitors. It was a quaint setting for any weary traveler and Vivian felt perfection click into place as her mood lightened to the breezy temperature. Oh, how it reminded her of home along the coast!
The downside to their arrival was that Madagascar was currently under a heavy cyclone season and no chartered boats would be sailing until the season ended. This meant the group was stranded for at least two months on shore until the sea was calm enough to travel on without sudden danger. This, of course, didn't sit well with an impatient Altaïr and he'd tried to buy his way onto a ship with all the money they had collected. Lacking the social charisma that Malik held and the patience of Vivian, the master assassin was literally dragged away from the empty docks by twelve men. Yeah, it was that bad that an embarrassed Vivian counted herself lucky they weren't kicked out of the port immediately for causing trouble. Malik played his peacemaker card by lying to them that Altaïr had mood problems and believed himself to be the undisputed leader of the world. With the way he'd acted, it wasn't a farfetched idea and the men believed it.
They had found a place for lodging but money would be tight since braving the elements in their tents would only bring them illness. The hot interior of Africa was different in comparison to its breezy coast and they were forced to sleep indoors. Flooding was common during the rainy season so they had to keep safe, regardless of how great a survivalist Altaïr was. Saving money for shelter, the chartered boat, and food put them to crunch the numbers on the first night and they were forced to make a tough decision. It was one that made Altaïr shiver (that's right- shiver) with unease: they would have to do some odd jobs around Quelimane to gather extra money to survive.
Nobody said surviving in Assassin's Creed was easy and since they weren't financially well-off like Ezio, the trio was financially screwed. Altaïr had objected shrewdly to the idea, mainly because he wasn't accustomed to dealing with people nor had any passive non-assassinating skills. He wasn't a civilian in the slightest and it made him uneasy at having to interact with others. The residents of Quelimane were courteous enough to them and with the lack of malevolent business practices, the trio felt fine wandering the town on their own. First, however, they needed to form a plan on how to find a job to support themselves.
"Somehow, I don't see Mr. Ominous as the type to play with others" Vivian joked playfully as they sat in the men's shared room at the inn. Altaïr would no longer brave the elements until nighttime to crawl inside because they had rented two rooms. One was for Vivian so she could finally enjoy some femininity to herself and the other was for the two men.
Altaïr had almost committed a social faux pas when he walked straight into Vivian's bedroom to share it with her until Malik yanked him back out. He'd become accustomed to sleeping next to her at Lake Victoria and beside her tent during travel that he'd felt a natural attachment to her. Malik, however, had nipped it in the bud to save Vivian's reputation and any wandering stares from Altaïr's end. Vivian had arrived in the guise of a single woman traveling with her cousins and Malik didn't hesitate to remind him that men wouldn't be sharing her room. After growing protective of her, he'd been extremely reluctant to release her but abided to avoid being questioned on his motive. He would miss speaking to her before heading off to sleep but maybe he could find a way to sneak that in without Malik noticing.
"And I don't see a woman getting a job" he shot back competitively and dodged a bar of soap aimed for his head. He caught it with perfect ease as he paced circles around the room to waste his impatient energy and purposely wear himself out. It was the best method for avoiding a quarrel as his temper stayed at a minimum and he smirked with sarcasm on his tongue, "Thank you for the free soap. Care to wager?"
"With what? We're piss poor" she laughed miserably to their sorry financial status as the weather hampered it. This was the first time they were truly worried about running out of food and fishing could only sustain them for so long before they tired of it. They couldn't even sell fish they caught since fishing was the prime trade at the port.
"Bragging rights" he grinned smartly and Malik shot him a warning glare since it would most likely send the two into a ridiculous challenge. He'd seen them stuff lentils into their mouth to see who could eat them the fastest, who could wash clothes the best, and a staring contest that ended when Vivian sneezed directly in Altaïr's face. The two had an odd friendship but it was one that Altaïr treasured and Malik let them be to the rarity of him having friends. Well, that and the bountiful free time he'd earned since he no longer had to play keeper.
Vivian saw it as friendly competition but if he went overboard, she'd break a chair over his head. Well, not really, but only because she'd die if he returned the sentiment while he'd walk away unscathed. She grinned confidently because she was a master of disguise by now and accepted, "You're on! Whoever lasts longest on their job earns the right to brag."
. . . Malik won the bet without even trying or participating in the challenge.
Malik's charismatic personality granted him a temporary position working at the administration building within the span of two days. His educated mind, not to mention his writing ability, gave him the skills to succeed in an everyday civilian job. Since their stay was temporary, he had been hired to help with paperwork related to Quelimane's trading economy. Altaïr wanted to enjoy his time running free over rooftops but since that wouldn't bring in money, reluctantly set out to find his first civilian job in life. Unfortunately, it wasn't what he'd hoped for.
The dai signed him up as a fisherman's assistant to enjoy hard honest work at preparing nets and gutting fish. Vivian attempted to follow Malik into his line of work by showing her knowledge and ability to speak multiple languages. It was in vain, however, since women were practically seen as baby poppers and she was chased away like a pest. Instead, she was forced to disguise herself as a young charismatic man of twenty to help sell produce from a vendor nice enough to hire her- er, him.
The first day had been horrible for Altaïr as he came home reeking of fish and Malik left to share Vivian's room for refuge. Vivian's alter ego claimed he lived with his sister, Zara, so it came in handy when the family of four visited each other's rooms. The largest role change came to both Vivian and Altaïr as she was forced to pull a gender bender and he was cast into the role of an average man without the robes. He kept the gauntlet on his wrist for security but he felt naked for a week without having his beloved hood over his head. Vivian sewed a handmade hood to his brown tunic to help him feel comfortable and he'd returned to his disgruntled turtle look- until it was time to work.
Each early morning was a hassle to wake the assassin as he and Vivian were the first to leave for their jobs. It wasn't that he didn't like waking up before the crack of dawn but gutting fish and bearing the smell was enough to send him into a depression. He wasn't meant to gut fish- he was meant to gut Templars!
Vivian tried to make light of the situation by cheering him up during breakfast on the eight day. It always surprised him to see a short man with a scruffy ponytail leave Vivian's room until he remembered it was her. She used natural powder dyes to contour her face with masculine features just as she had with her makeup back home to highlight her cheekbones. A dash of color darkened her skin tone to avoid looking like a male copy of herself and she added black powder to her eyebrows to thicken them to match a man's. All in all, she made a decent vertically challenged man.
Any small attraction that Altaïr denied went away instantly when he gazed at this male Vivian. His tenacious badger had turned into a charismatic coyote that he didn't like at all! The only thing that remained was her green eyes and friendly smile as she joked with her normal voice, "I know this isn't your everyday job but you get to assassinate yummy fish."
"It's not the same, Vivian, and I smell horribly afterwards" he muttered flatly as he poked his porridge meal lethargically. He didn't look forward to his day and once work was over, he dealt with its aftermath while his companions were free to relax. They could escape the horrible smell while he was held prisoner to that foul entity that seeped into his skin.
Being the only two people awake downstairs, Vivian smiled sympathetically and comforted, "Well, there's only one thing I can say then. . .
If there's a task that must be done,
Don't turn your tail and run.
Don't pout,
Don't sob,
Just do a half-assed job."
"I'm an all-ass kind of man" he pointed out curtly because laziness wasn't in his language and watched Vivian snicker into her hand. He didn't groan at the verbal pitfall he'd fallen into due to his crappy new life and merely poked his porridge again. There had been brief moments when he'd wondered what kind of civilian life he would've led and this new job was not what he'd imagined.
Vivian grabbed his right hand to stop poking the poor abused porridge for the tenth time and encouraged, "It's only two months. Time goes by very fast and we'll be heading to Madagascar before you know it."
He muttered noncommittally because he'd rather steal a ship and sail off at this point. Vivian grabbed the spoon from his fingers to dip it into the food and raised it to smile playfully, "Here comes the assassin boat heading to the Mediterranean."
"I'm not a child, Vivian" he objected to her attempt to force feed him but grabbed the spoon from her fingers to eat. It was a small victory for her since he needed to keep up his strength for the long hours at sea and on the dock. She understood that this wasn't the best time of his life but she needed him to bear through it in good health. His fingertips brushed against hers as her free hand stood ready to spoon feed him and he spoke kindly, "Thank you for your henpecking."
"It's my best and most annoying trait" she chuckled good-naturedly about her natural mothering towards her friends. He needed someone to soothe his worries and wipe the brief flickers of uncertainty in his eyes so she would be his rock. Altaïr managed a faint smile to her comment because he wouldn't argue that but appreciated her concern for him.
Week two brought the collapse of Altaïr's willpower when he stormed into his room furiously to yell his lungs out, "We need to leave now. I cannot smell like this every fluffing day!"
He didn't say fluffing, folks.
Malik tried to hold back his laughter since his friend's tunic was soaking wet with sea water and crimson-purple blots of where fish guts had been splattered. The smell emanating from Altaïr, however, took the crown because he was finicky about being immaculate and clean. The man wasn't lying when he said he reeked and the dai wondered just what he stepped out of or into. Malik tried to calm him by pointing out why they had to work in the first place, "We need the money, Altaïr. I understand that this is very different than your old job-"
"Malik, I smell like a rotting carcass!" the assassin shouted disgustedly and gripped the front of his shirt to emphasize. No human being should smell like that! He was accustomed to wearing pristine white robes with the occasional dirt patch around his joints- not fishy smelling clothes! His face was contorted into one of pure disgust, a rarity for the stoic man, and he exclaimed heatedly, "This is not me!"
"It is only for a short time" he sympathized as Altaïr tore off his shirt to throw it in an empty wooden bowl on the floor with distaste. He could still feel the cold dampness of the cloth on his skin and decided whether to wash or burn the thing. He couldn't bear wearing anything that smelled of dead fish and hoped he wouldn't go to bed with it. The man was a raging bull as he paced around their room shirtless and Malik pointed out, "You don't hear Vivian and me complaining."
"You have a perfect civilian job and Vivian sells food by flirting with housewives. . . why don't I find that strange but a little arousing?" the assassin ranted to relieve his annoyance and then blinked with bewilderment at the end. Vivian was an odd woman but her recent behavior took the prize in the absurd as she played a man and charmed women.
Malik shrugged since Vivian easily won the attention of women as being one granted her the inner workings of their minds. She pushed back male attention when she wandered the town as herself because there weren't any people of English descent in Quelimane. For the first time, she was experiencing male interest but she scuttled off quickly to avoid any type of entanglements. Malik shrugged noncommittally about her wanderings in town as either a man or herself and pointed out simply, "She's Vivian, we will never understand."
"I'd rather sell produce and seduce women instead of coming home smelling of puke" Altaïr hissed irritably and scrubbed his arms with his bare hands in a vain attempt to remove the stink. Malik shot him a glance that told him he didn't think he'd succeed since he repelled women rather than charming them. Altaïr grumbled because he wasn't going to go out to seduce women and muttered, "Oh, forget it. I should just bathe in the sea and pray a shark decides to shred me into a hundred pieces."
"Now you're being melodramatic" Malik sighed to his antics because he wasn't that insane yet. The man was a grumpy one when he wasn't in control and being covered in fish guts didn't help matters any. For the moment, it provided them money for survival until they could board a ship and ordered, "Go take a bath and drink some milk like a good boy."
Altaïr narrowed his eyes for being brushed off as an insolent toddler and snapped, "I'm not a child . . . but I would like some milk."
Vivian opened the door to enter the room as she arrived from work at the produce stand and her eyes landed on the shirtless Altaïr. What had she just stepped into? The man was practically hairless (except for a soft patch on his chest and a tantalizing trail traveling down his navel) and envied the chiseled physique that flaunted each taut muscle. Why was she shown this sight now of all times? It was bad enough when she'd seen him the first few times but that was before her affection flourished. Her attraction to the man, however, was thankfully hindered by the putrid smell filling the room and she gagged, "By Odin's bountiful beard, what foul creature died in here?"
"It's seeped into my flesh!" Altaïr yelled accusingly to his awful job and proceeded to rub his arms again obsessively. He didn't want to smell like death and wanted to quit his job immediately. If he'd known this was what Malik had in mind, he would've rejected the offer before he'd stepped onto that accursed dock. Vivian compared his erratic pacing to the crazy NPC's by the docks in Acre from the game as he ranted, "By the creed, this better leave before we set sail for Madagascar or I will exterminate all the fish here!"
"The entire Indian Ocean?" she snorted amusingly as her bushy eyebrows furrowed together. As a modern woman, it had been easy to use different powders to change her features and she'd tied her hair back into a low ponytail in tribute to Ezio. May the man bed many beautiful ladies in his quest for justice and may she return to see all of it (his assassin quest, not the booty conquest).
"The bath, Altaïr" Malik reminded flatly as he returned to reading his book because he enjoyed unwinding after a job well done. It was odd for him to be stationary, even as his time as a bureau's rafiq, because he was doing a different job that didn't involve the brotherhood. Altaïr frowned like a scolded boy because nobody cared about his fishy problem. Was it too much to ask for a little attention?
He turned to Vivian in a last attempt to garner attention but winced when he saw that she was dressed as her alter ego. Where had his little partner gone in place of this physically unappealing man? Even if he hugged her, the ponytail was too ambiguous to remind him of her. Vivian smirked to his visible cringe because it was a wonderful repellant to keep her feelings at bay and chuckled, "Go take your bath, Rub-A-Dub-Dub."
With great regret, he did.
The third week brought Altaïr's defeat as he submitted to being plagued with the smell of fish for the rest of his stay and ranted at anybody who stared at him on his way home. It soured his mood at knowing Malik ignored his plight and Vivian. . .he honestly didn't know what the hell was going on in her mind, especially when he saw her parading down the street with two women in her arms. The historian was fitting in perfectly in town with her manly disguise and even her true appearance made a better splash than he did. Again, the ranting definitely didn't help matters. He cornered her two days later in her room as she wiped her face clear of her makeup to reveal her true self. She'd just arrived from work and held patches of dirt on her clothes from fetching and preparing produce.
"Is there something you want to tell Malik and me?" he asked as he poured himself a glass of water without asking for permission. She jumped in surprise because she hadn't expected him to follow her inside after greeting him in the hallway. The man was a stealthy cat when he walked and if she'd been his target, she would've been dead on the floor by now. Her green eyes blinked with confusion to what he was implying and he pointed out shrewdly, "The flirting with the town's women and the handkerchiefs in your pockets?"
"Oh, that" she grinned cheekily and waved one of a canary hue towards Altaïr with a charming wink. He snatched it out of her hand but stuffed it into his pocket to show off to the men at the docks so he wasn't a lost case at seducing women. That same handkerchief would bring him an angry storming husband mistaking him for Vivian's alter ego a few days later but let's get back to the original story.
She saw his nonnegotiable 'I mean business' look and freed her hair from her ponytail to sigh softly. He had never been onboard with her masquerading but Vivian saw it as necessary for their survival. Somehow, educating him about the undercover tactics of present day detectives wouldn't help her cause with the cranky man. Kicking off her dusty work boots, she smiled pleasantly to calm him and explained, "I'm empowering women to be proactive with their lives. It's just harmless flirting from a man that makes them see that women are more than just baby poppers. They are women with skills, not to mention great intelligence, and deserve the same respect as a man."
"Don't say that word" Altaïr grimaced with a shiver as the physiology of the woman's body frightened him like the endless sea. It was bad enough when she was on that horrible bloodletting and privately praised Maria for bearing his child in Masyaf. Otherwise, he would've run around like a chicken with his head cut off. There wasn't a day he didn't think about his son because although he and Maria weren't in love, there was love for that child. He didn't hesitate to remind Vivian about their social rules as he saw her futuristic traits filtering through, "You can be seen as a troublemaker because marriage is sacred here. You will endanger yourself as well as their lives."
"I took care of that, I'm sterile and interested in exploring the world only- no relationships to either gender despite my delicious charm" Vivian answered brightly with a witty grin to her alter ego, who she was fully embracing. She'd give Ezio a run for his money with the way she swaggered through town. With the lack of real danger in the quaint town, Vivian felt at home as she had in Berkeley and declared proudly, "I am Zevran, the shameless flirt that knocks off ladies socks while enjoying a beer to be one of the guys."
"Have you gone insane? Where does all of this come from?" he asked with bewilderment because she seemed content with life despite playing a farce. How could she parade herself without an ounce of shame? He didn't wink at every woman that stopped by the docks! He could barely hold a conversation about everyday life and when he hit a snag, he turned to the weather. It was probably the main reason women scurried away (that and brandishing a weapon at them) but he stood by his actions, no matter how perplexing they were. To be frank, he envied her adaptability to their surroundings and asked simply, "How are you comfortable parading around with both genders?"
"Easy, I'm that awesome" she grinned mischievously as he stared at her skeptically. She'd been a nervous mess when they'd met and always watched her words out of worry that she'd insult somebody. It seemed his little nervous lamb had become a confident coyote and no longer needed him at her side. He didn't like this. Vivian merely kept the silly grin slapped on and waved a hand to dismiss jovially, "But seriously, between you and me, men are my fancy. Oh, the eye candy gaming companies create. Mmm-hmm."
He aimed a flat stare to her delirious grin towards whatever erotic images she was conjuring and stated, "I find that hard to believe when Zevran has been seen kissing the ladies and breaking pints of beer over men's heads."
Vivian laughed cheerfully as she began to live through her disguise and answered, "So? I'm exploring. A kiss on the cheek is one thing and in my culture, serves as a greeting between family and friends so it's not bad. I'm sure plenty of Spaniards are doing this as I speak. Diseases of all kinds are rampant nowadays so kissing and rolling in the hay are two things that Zevran does not do because he belongs to the world. This body is a temple-"
"You're not Zevran!" he exclaimed matter-of-factly because he had trouble telling the two apart already. Both personas were charmingly witty but while Vivian held reserve, this Zevran identity was unabashed. How could she fit into the town so easily while he was struggling? She was for a different time era for science's sake!
"Crap, I might need to update my makeup" Vivian grumbled as she moved to go towards her makeup desk but he pulled her back to the bed. She hated the way his calloused fingers gently scratched her wrists as he pressed her back against his chest, ashamed that she loved it too. The two fidgeted in their struggle as he tugged towards the bed to sit while she tugged towards the dresser. At one point, Vivian was certain they were hissing like animals but he managed to gain the upper hand easily.
She avoided the fact she was sitting on his left leg like a child and stated calmly, "Altaïr, I'm living life in the past so unless I start getting manly attention as myself, you have no trouble."
"Are you going to stop flirting with people?" he questioned with a stern expression as he kept her pinned to his lap by the waist. She huffed to the fact he was dictating her successful person and for treating her a little child-like in the position they were in. First, he was trying to breathe independence into her and now he was sucking it back like a black hole? She didn't want to cave in to his demands but he pointed out curtly, "These times are different and we're in a land that isn't like either of our homes. Now, will you agree?"
"Will you agree that this position is a little creepy?" she asked with distaste because sitting in his lap was unappealing in that position. What was she? A stripper? On the other hand, it could've been worse by accidentally straddling him. Altaïr took notice of he kept her pinned to his leg and simply deposited her on the bed like a sack of potatoes to avoid being caught by anybody walking by the open door.
She scrambled to sit up straight as he glared at her for an answer to his request and out of fear of repeating the child on the knee scene, agreed, "Fine."
She didn't.
His endless nagging the next day did nothing to get Malik to say something to Vivian and Altaïr's paranoid mind suspected a conspiracy was at work. Why was Malik getting attention from women via Vivian's crafty hand when he was there with his rugged good looks? Wasn't he handsome as well? Then again, the fishy smell made them run for the hills. By the creed, he hated everything about the port they lived at! He wasn't a quitter by nature and that kept him from telling the fishermen to take the job and pin it on another poor soul. Of course, that would bring Malik's and Vivian's wrath upon him for slacking off. For now, he would focus his irritation on this Zevran character and how to kill him out of Vivian's character book.
Vivian had been enjoying time as herself on the rooftop of the inn after sunset to cool off from a long day of physical labor. She used the ever handy and never outdated ladder since she lacked Spiderman abilities. Malik had gone off to help with a well or get somebody out of it- she didn't really pay attention since she'd been starving for food. As Zevran, there were days she could catch free meals by entertaining masses by telling dramatic stories or songs but today had not been one of those days. Part of her felt tempted to stay in the little town after becoming such a sensation but she'd be living a lie. It felt incredibly wonderful to be part of normal society without danger involved but she needed to return home to her family. Her little blue house in Berkeley was where she belonged and nobody could change that.
Of course, Altaïr struck fear into her when he jumped onto the rooftop from out of nowhere like a madman. The man was fit enough to be a stuntman in a horror film and she resisted from kicking him in the kneecap as he loomed over her. She squeaked with surprise to seeing the return of the watchful eagle and sat up to stare at him with bewilderment. He crouched on all fours as he clambered safely onto the palm leaf roof and accused with a jabbing index finger, "You promised!"
"You know how childish you sound?" she scoffed sarcastically to his whining but patted the spot next to her to invite him to sit down. The assassin turned fish gutter plopped down with a long sigh as she watched the sea but he frowned visibly when she pinched her nose. His confidence plummeted to the darkest pit of the ocean when she exhaled deeply with disbelief, "Dear me, you smell worse with each day."
"That was established weeks ago" he stated darkly with self-disgust and she joked about him being a natural bomb at killing Templars. It wasn't the best idea to imagine because he'd rather have his enemies fear him due to his skills rather than his body odor. Regardless of his horrible scent, he was there to put emphasis on her behavior around town before it was out of hand. He couldn't watch over her anymore as they took on civilian roles and he pointed out firmly, "I don't want to have to rescue you from the masses of angry husbands and suitors that will eventually mob you. You're walking on a thin line here, Vivian."
"No, I have that covered, I give them bedroom tips and share a beer" she grinned impishly and he buried his head into his hands to the crazy woman. Their journey for the past year had subdued most of her bubbly personality but Quelimane stirred something bold in her demeanor. She was almost unchained to society's rules and used her disguise to channel her true personality traits of adventurous wonder. She could stroll through the streets, talk unabashedly like a man (or modern woman), and eat her fill without worrying about mannerisms. It was unlimited freedom for her and she loved every minute of it! Zevran allowed her to escape from the cautious Vivian that traveled alongside him and she smiled widely, "They can realize how much help a woman can be rather than sitting around at home being baby popper-"
"Please don't finish that" Altaïr shuddered to that image and she patted his back to comfort him. For the first time, he thought about leaning against her to bask in that physical gesture because he wasn't feeling his best. She offered such good hugs but part of him kicked himself for wanting to accept it. Being an assassin, he was accustomed to staying objective without emotions filtering through and he reminded her, "Focus on your job-"
"My boss loves that I've increased his revenue and brought new clients" she informed proudly and coughed to the side to ward the fishy smell from entering her lungs. Boy, was that smell overpowering. She leaned back on her elbows to smile towards the sparkling water on the horizon and explained easily, "I'm quite popular here and I could even help you get a better job with my new connections. It's bad enough being called 'the man with the terrible smell' by the townspeople."
"They don't call me that . . . do they?" he retorted shrewdly but his pride was poked on that because he didn't want to be known that way. Who would want to be identified by that? It was a horrible moniker. Her deadpan expression only secured his question with a positive confirmation. Altaïr grit his teeth to falling so far down the respect chain because he was a grand master, damn it, and told her, "I never thought I'd see the day when you became the popular one."
"Actually, Malik is" she informed casually to dull the double strike and Altaïr uttered a shameful whimper at being the bottom of the three. Vivian had to blink twice to hearing the soft noise because it was fit for a person like her rather than an invulnerable assassin. His stay at Quelimane brought him no joy and despite her joking, she did worry he would return to his old demeanor in Lake Victoria. She tried to make light of the situation by explaining Malik's popularity, "The governing family likes him and he got a raise after making maps. You'd be surprised how charismatic he can be and that innocent charmer face of his knows how to pull the strings. Maybe I can wiggle my way in since the son likes adventuring and the daughter-"
"No more, you are a virtuous woman who will not ruin her reputation" he growled with annoyance because she was supposed to be herself- the kind and friendly woman he knew. He didn't want people eyeing her with lecherous or impure thoughts because she deserved better, even while playing a man. She was supposed to run to him for advice and be by his side for banter but instead, he was left to mope alone. He didn't want to be alone as he grew older and that realization led him to want to be at her side.
"I know, Zevran's the bad seed" she smirked innocently as she tried to loophole her way through it but he wasn't having any more Vivian/Zevran craziness. One Vivian was more than enough to handle and this new charade was double the work for him. He couldn't handle that!
"You're Zevran, you sneaky temptress!" he exclaimed exasperatedly and Vivian shook her head to his propriety. He had transformed from a devil may care type to a strict by the book guy that she always found humorously fascinating. She kept the silly grin on her face as she watched the disgruntled assassin and pondered on a quick Zevran-esque scheme to quiet him. Altaïr waved his hands to the indignity of her behavior and ranted madly to knock sense into her, "You make a mockery-"
Yanking him by the front of his tunic, Vivian did the unthinkable and leaned forward to press her lips to his for a firm kiss. His body stiffened at the personal space intrusion because it had been the last thing he expected from her. Vivian released him a second later before he could recover from his stunned stupor and confessed truthfully, "There. I've done more with you than any other person since I arrived in this time- good Gandalf, you smell."
With that said, she hastily escaped down the ladder just as Altaïr regained control of his body after blacking out from stimuli overload. After blending into his time, Vivian's cheeks burned with astonishment to her boldness and for loving every second of it. Who wouldn't want to kiss the assassin in a blind moment of giddiness and love it? Altaïr, on the other hand, had been stunned into silence like the eye of a hurricane before creating havoc. Her action had been one that shattered his impenetrable emotional fortress with its simple movement as it threw his feelings into disarray.
Clenching his fists, he wanted to kick sense into her and himself for letting her action affect him. Her lips had been as soft as he imagined since she dabbed oil or honey to prevent dryness and her bottom lip had innocently wedged between both of his before departing. There had been brief moments as of late that he wondered about the feel of her mauve lips against his but it was nothing serious. The light breeze tickled his damp lips in reminder to her bold action and he moved to wipe them clean, only to pause a second later. Why was he so deeply affected by her actions? Forcing himself to believe there was nothing behind the chaste kiss, he reminded himself that Maria was at Masyaf. With a child over there, there was a future awaiting him if she wished it. He should have been happy to have a family, right?
Then why did it feel as if he'd swallowed a lemon to that thought?
A/N: And so, we begin the tug-of-war romance between the two because the stay at Quelimane will be a memorable one. Vivian is loving her new undercover life in the port as she plays the humorous Zevran (for those who've played Dragon Age) while Altaïr is the polar opposite. Malik can finally enjoy a life being himself without the two needing him as a referee but he'll play brother bear when he noticed Altaïr chasing Vivian romantically.
Thank you for your support of this story and your reviews:
david meyer ny: Unfortunately, the end of the tale will be similar to how you described it but there's a sequel in store for the trio. I'm glad to know so many readers have gotten into the Altaïr/Vivian romance because it's been in the making for quite a long time and it's finally showing now. I'd love to see the two raise little Vivian's' and Altaïr's' to create mayhem in their wake after all we've seen the two do together (I love the brothel infiltration). Don't worry, we'll see a little Vivian or Altaïr eventually.
Dolce Latte van Crème: Yes, Malik's 'children' have finally managed to live apart from him having to separate them. In a few years, he'll be playing Uncle Malik to Altaïr's kids and blame the assassin for having to reprise his role.
Elektraeriseros: Thank you for loving this story ridiculously, I appreciate it! Connor does indeed resemble Altaïr the most with his quiet demeanor and I love him even more for his sweet naivety and helpful nature. Haytham is indeed a very sassy man and he definitely made me laugh during his interactions with Connor. Vivian will be returning to her time and eventually, learn of everything that has happened in the franchise (even if her poor heart is in the thresher). A little badger tells me that Altaïr will indeed know about him. Lol
IsraAl'Attia-Theron: Lol. A lot of people have wanted to smack altaor throughout the story but we've reached a point where the hands are slowly lowering. They might rise, however, towards Vivian when she tries to put her foot down on the attraction he feels for her. It'll be up to Altaïr to sort out how to clinch Vivian as his partner while simultaneously fixing the awkwardness that will follow with Maria (who is more concerned with Darim than anyone else).
TheMystirousFuzz: I'm glad you're so enthusiastic for them! Yes, the feelings just keep growing between the two and the array in this chapter with Altaïr is hilarious. Altaïr definitely tries his best with Vivian as they try to solve each other's problems and in the end, they have quite a good partnership that will only get better. The relationship the two are heading to will be a bit rocky but there will be no question to how dearly (or humorously adorable) they care for one another.
KrnYong: Yes, the romance is finally underway for the two after 30+ chapters. Lol. Altaïr is definitely not the type to be left out and when Vivian begins getting male attention in an upcoming chapter, he'll be awkward and overprotective to the max. Out of all of the protagonists, Altaïr is quite the stoic man but with a short fuse and his teachings under Al Mualim restrained his grasp on emotions. As he grew older after AC1, he learned to do so and I love incorporating that in the story as the years pass by with Vivian at his side. She'll be helping him sort through them all and I think the sweetest part of that 'therapy' is when she compliments his attractive appearance and loving the adventurous life full of memories he's given her (even if it's in extreme poverty and constant danger).
Next Time: The Green Eyed Monster
A week later brought the mark of their first month there and Malik earned a nice basket of fruit which meant free food for the trio. Vivian received a round of beers from grocer friends at an inn that would've given her liver instant cirrhosis had her friends not been there. As for Altaïr. . .well, he quit and was currently jobless. He had been putting it off for as long as he could but when a bucket of fish guts fell on him when he accidentally struck it while cleaning a boat- he lost it. It had been a great relief to bid goodbye to the docks but dread filled him when he'd returned to the inn to tell his friends. Malik had ranted for a good hour about him lacking commitment to the mission due to smelling horribly, not to mention losing money they needed. Altaïr had stomped away irritably to cool off before he said something he'd regret and swiped a pear from the gift basket.
Malik didn't object to having produce stolen and Vivian looked to him to state softly, "Don't be mad at him, Malik. He really tried his best but we both know he's not cut out for this kind of life."
"It was only for a short time, Vivian" he sighed with disbelief to Altaïr's impetuousness about quitting. If they didn't need the money so badly, he wouldn't be pressing his friend. Their journey was far from over and they had arrived poorer than poor because there were no more enemies to loot from.
Vivian offered an apologetic smile on behalf of the cranky assassin and informed, "I'll check on him."
Her Zevran getup had been shed for the night and she returned to the feminine robes to be herself. It was annoying having to go downstairs with a long skirt that could become tangled around her feet but she managed. There weren't many people down below in the dining area now that the late evening fell and she smiled at the owners as she passed by. Opening the door, the cool breeze of the sea greeted her nose and she looked around to see where Altaïr had gone off. Given that the inn was small, it didn't take long to walk the perimeter and she found him behind the building.
The rolling pastures that dipped to transform into the coast greeted her vision since Altaïr wasn't fond of staring at the ocean. He preferred the sight of land and the east provided that as he leaned against the wooden building. The lantern hanging above them provided a beam of light to illuminate his outline and she approached him. Vivian found herself surprised when she caught him smoking from a midwakh pipe and a thin trail of smoke left his lips.
Aw, no, he's the Cigarette Smoking Man from the X-Files!, she groaned miserably because practically everyone smoked in that era to the point her lungs shriveled. It was a recreational sport, particularly in the Middle East, and sea trading only spread the use. In other parts of the world that already smoked, merchants would trade materials to use in their particular pipes.
"You smoke? Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad smokes?!" she asked incredulously to what she was witnessing and resisted from ripping the pipe from his hand. She couldn't project her feelings on the matter because everyone was entitled to their lifestyle.
"Only when I'm very irritated" he replied earnestly with a simple shrug and kept the pipe to his level so she wouldn't inhale anything. It helped to relieve stress and rather than leaving a smelly room in his wake, decided to head outside where it would be ten times calmer. He had traveled around the town after quitting to build his argument until it was suppertime but it hadn't gone over very well. He looked at the small brown pipe in his left hand and admitted simply, "It's very rare for me, unlike Malik, but I don't really know other forms to relax. There's not a Templar nearby to assassinate so I make do with this."
"Give me that" she fussed to keep his lungs squeaky clean and swiped the pipe from his hand. Altaïr didn't bother to protest her confiscation because he didn't feel very confident that night and simply gazed at her to await the next lecture. Vivian, however, wasn't going to make his night worse and merely studied the brown pipe in her hands. She'd never seen him use it during their journey and wondered what else remained a mystery. A thin trail of smoke escaped the end and her nose took the tiniest sniff as she asked, "What do you put in there? I'm pretty sure tobacco won't land here until later centuries."
"Hashish" he replied easily to one of the herbs that traveled around the trade routes and she quirked an eyebrow. Why did that sound familiar to her? Altaïr grabbed the pipe back from her dainty fingers to inhale again and explained, "I found some on one of the robbers back in Giza. Why let it go to waste, right?"
Vivian shook her head because she wasn't about to be the accomplice of the Smoky Man Fog. Her mind finally clicked onto why that word sounded familiar and she exclaimed, "You're getting high? Aw no! You're killing me!"
Altaïr watched her pace around like a chicken with its head cut off as she spouted about the fandom being broken at the news.
Thank you for reading about the trio's crazy adventure and please drop a review.