[open] Socially acceptable behavior

[theflyingone]

Who: Altaïr and YOU
What: Catchall
When: February

Content Warnings: Affection-starved and repressed murderer doesn't know how to deal with feelings, news at 11. Prompt-specific ones below.

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[theflyingone]

Plotting Info | Permissions

Wait For Me (in Gaze District unless you'd like somewhere different)

[theflyingone]

cw: the Wait For Me prompt: loneliness, depression elements, psychological horror, trapped/immobilized

Altaïr feels as if someone or something should have happened. An agreed-upon meeting falling through, an unease that something is misaligned from where it should be. Though Gaze always makes him feel as if he's being watched, he's never felt more alone. He is used to being alone, but there is a difference between seeking out solitude and having it rudely thrust upon him.

He tries to shake it off by taking a shortcut over the roofs. Up here, mostly unseen, he can use his parkour art of movement to distract himself... Then his body stops working mid-jump, face frozen in consternation, limbs at angles optimal only in this moment and not the next. A tall statue, unnaturally hardened, plummets in an arc towards the ground in a flurry of white robes. Absurdly, he thinks of poison.

He tries to reach for a flashy Paleblood illusion to warn anyone below. What happens instead is the telepathic broadcast of his thoughts in the (unintended, unalterable) tone of a wail:

What sorcery is this?!

in my head this is being filmed like a sitcom

[givetheslip]

Maria isn't particularly bothered when she doesn't see or hear from Altaïr for a few hours. They're friends, a now well-practiced team with a feel for one another's routines, but that doesn't mean they must be attached at the hip. Sometimes he'll spend hours buried in books and she'll spend hours fighting beasts and presumably they both enjoy their solo time.

She is starting to wonder what he's up to, though. It's out of curiosity and not alarm, but still. It doesn't occur to her to use her Omni to contact him and inquire about exactly that; despite her homecoming from the other Trench in the fall, she still hasn't truly internalized the device's use for time-sensitive communication. It also doesn't occur to her to look up as she walks through the streets of Gaze, unknowingly tracing his path.

As it turns out, she doesn't need to. There's a flash of movement from above and what sounds (?) like a very familiar cry from a very familiar voice (?), and then a statue crashes to the ground, nearly on top of her. Maria jumps back with a cry (it is NOT a shriek, no one is allowed to say it was a shriek), gives herself a quick check to make sure nothing's been crushed and she somehow didn't notice, and then just stares.

icon of him in water but same vibe

[theflyingone]

Sometimes an intense investigation (or fight) means lack of communication, even with Omens, and Altaïr does spend a lot of time alone by choice. There is only so much that can happen when only some city blocks separate them, or so he thinks.

It is definitely not a shriek, and Altaïr would never call the noise Maria made that. It is a cry of warning to anyone else who might be around, a good and responsible thing for any warrior or soldier to do. Definitely.

Altaïr is completely still, limbs frozen at angles as only the most impossibly lithe statues could capture, a white-robed Icarus spared a watery death by his affliction's onset over land. He is also completely unharmed. There are little cracks in the pavement from the impact, but Altaïr received not a scratch.

What is happening?! he continues to "wail." I cannot move at all! If I had hit Maria... His telepathic struggling goes silent as he tries not to contemplate this too closely.

[givetheslip]

A great many thoughts flash through Maria's mind, one after the other. Where did this statue fall from? Why was it up above to begin with? Is the start of another strange event in Trench?

And then she "hears" and recognizes the voice crying out it drives most of the questions away temporarily, even if the actual words don't make much sense to her. She whips her head around, looking for Altaïr — whatever's the cause of this, they'll certainly do a better job of sorting it out together. Except she can't see him anywhere, even though he'd certainly sounded close by.

"Altaïr?" she calls out cautiously. "Where are you? I don't see you." This time she does look up, but there's nothing.

[theflyingone]

This is indeed the start of another strange event in Trench, or at least a few very dangerous incidents. And it will be dangerous indeed if Altaïr gets his hands on a culprit...

It is me; I am the statue!

This time the wailing tone of his voice is not too far from what it would be even without this magical influence. He cannot see very well, unable to even move his eyes, but he hears Maria near him. He must keep her here.

Do not go! Turn me so that I may see our surroundings and search for an enemy who might have done this!

He is stuck, limbs half-bent in a ridiculous-looking transitional position in what would have otherwise been a fluid movement.

[givetheslip]

"Good Lord."

The bafflement is evident in her voice, mixed with dismay and some other undefinable emotion that only comes in the face of ridiculousness. Because this is awful, yes, she recognizes his form and realizes the voice in her head is correct as soon as she hears it again, but really, it is ridiculous.

Instead of turning him, she quickly shuffles forward and around him so she can get a better look.

"I'm not going to swivel you around so you can tell me what you see when I have eyes myself," she says. "You really don't know how this happened? I don't see anyone else around."

No one obviously responsible, that is. There are others on the street who are generally give them a wide berth as well as notable side-eye.

[theflyingone]

Right, good Lord, though the Lord will not help us now, he grumbles irritably, though it's still broadcast as a wail. But if he has time to complain, surely he can't be in that dire of straits.

I--I have different eyes. I can see things you cannot. Please just do it, I have no time to argue if my attacker is already escaping. I do not know who it was.

He is unhurt, so his other sight should work fine, not that Maria knows that. It's his secret ace in the hole, besides the hidden blade, and Maria already knows the hidden blade from very personal experience. Should I tell her? he wonders to himself. He'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

[givetheslip]

Maria will choose to ignore that comment, if only because she can tell that Altaïr is in great distress and she would also likely be extremely cranky if she had suddenly become a statue.

"All right," she says, and lets out a small huff of breath. "I trust you."

It still strikes her as funny sometimes, that she can say that and mean it. How things have changed. Because she trusts Altaïr, she reaches for his now-sculpted shoulders and tries to turn him in place. She's not sure if his conversion to statuary has made him heavier or not; he's tall and well-muscled to start with, so even as flesh and bone he'd be heavy, but it's not as difficult to move a man-sized sculpture around as she would have expected.

"Well? Anything?"

[tealeafs]

.. Well, this sure is something that's happening, isn't it.

Granted, the observation isn't nearly as casual in the girl's mind. It's not every day that you're just walking the streets of Trench and find something just plummeting right out of the sky. It's not exactly impossible or totally unheard of in a place like this - but it's still uncommon enough for the girl to let out a shriek of surprise, and even more so when she also suddenly hears a voice in her mind on top of it.

She instinctively quickly moves backwards, trying to put some distance between herself and whatever just came down just in case it's a monster.

But-- a moment passes, and whatever it is that fell doesn't move. It makes the girl shyly stare at it, finally getting a good look, and realising it's not a monster at all.

It's a person. One that actually looks kind of familiar, though it takes her a few moments to realise as much. Isn't this the man she had helped all those months ago, back when he had been blind right after Chizuru herself had been..?

Still startled, the girl carefully calls out with an: "A-Are you alright?!"

The way the man is unmoving - and stuck in a rather odd position - doesn't seem great, after all. And prospects can't look good for anyone after falling that far down, really.

[theflyingone]

Altaïr is completely frozen, limbs half-bent in a ridiculous-looking transitional position in what would have otherwise been a fluid movement. He is also completely unharmed. There are little cracks in the pavement from the impact of what is effectively a statue hardened to imperviousness, but Altaïr himself received not a scratch.

Of course not, I cannot move! I cannot even look around! Who are you?

Not being able to look around and take stock of his surroundings is the real issue here apparently. He is irritated. He is almost at the point of complaining. But though he feels no pain, his voice is magically trapped in what sounds like the tone of a wail.

[tealeafs]

It's definitely more than a little disturbing that this person truly doesn't move - nor seems impacted by the fall in the slightest, though that is perhaps the one tiny upside to this entire situation, no matter how unsettling.

But the most unsettling part is definitely that voice in her head. Not just because it's there, but due to the emotion in it. Chizuru is someone emotionally connected enough to other people that it immediately threatens to set her off into a panic as well, so worried about him screaming in her head like that.

At least the girl tries to remain strong. She tries to not let it conquer her, instead moving to try and put herself into his line of sight, even if she isn't sure if he can see her that way.

"I-It's me, Chizuru," she stammers. Her hands are folded together, the look in her eyes - now she's actually within his field of view and therefore visible - very obviously concerned. "I.. um, I helped you before, remember..? When you couldn't see."

Ironically enough, seeing might be the one thing Altaïr can do right now..

"I could try to help you now too, if you'd let me.."

Not that she knows how.

But one thing is always true with Chizuru - she is forever determined to help, no matter the situation or the odds stacked against her.

[theflyingone]

He is not the best at reassuring another. He answers questions with silence, barks out orders, and otherwise suppresses his own heart. Still, no one could be more disturbed than him. He remembers being immobilized by the power of the Apple. The betrayal he felt is dredged up again by the betrayal of his own body now. Freedom of thought and agency are things he prizes most dearly.

I remember you.

He is grateful for that time she helped him, but he is terrible at expressing it. He is also unable to change the tone of his relatively measured statement from the distress the spell limns it in.

What must I do?

Because surely, there is something he can do other than just lie here helplessly. He can't stand that. He can't stand that someone is seeing him like that.

[tealeafs]

"I, um.."

.. it's a good question. Chizuru doesn't directly know what to do about this either, after all. She really wishes she could give him some more concrete reassurances here, especially with that tone in her head that only increases the worry in her heart.

She inhales, and then sinks down next to where he's lying on the ground, sitting next to his frozen form on her knees.

"Would it be okay for me to touch you?" There's a pause, and then she quickly adds: "J-Just to examine you!"

Please, Chizuru, like he was about to get the wrong idea about that in a situation like this..

"My father is a doctor, and I've learned a few things from him.." And while this isn't anything she recognizes, she does realise that maybe examining is the only thing she can do to find out what is wrong with him, and what she can do to help with it.

[theflyingone]

It's perfectly normal for even a layperson to touch him if they found him incapacitated on the street. And she is the daughter of a physician. Altaïr is from a time when children often took up their parent's profession. He expects that she knows a thing or two. He tries to explain his symptoms:

This is not like any disease that I have ever heard of. There was no warning sign. I should have been hurt by my fall, but I do not see blood or feel pain or even spasms. It's almost like a dream--a nightmare. But of course, it's very real. I know when something is an illusion.

[tealeafs]

It helps that he's also trying to explain to her what's going on with him from his point of view - even though Chizuru would sure appreciate if it wasn't blasted straight into her head with the tone of someone screaming in the throes of a violent death.

But sometimes beggars can't be choosers, and this is one of those moments. It's why the girl frowns, trying to focus on what's in front of her. Her hand moves towards his wrist, her eyes closing as she feels around there for a moment, focusing--

"You do have a pulse."

Granted, one would imagine he does since he's still alive, but.. you never know for sure in this place.

At least that's one good sign.

"But.." Her hand lightly pushes against his arm, but it doesn't budge. Chizuru tries to push a little harder, but still nothing. Sure, it could be her own lack of strength.. Though it's much more likely that-- "It's like your body has sudden grown entirely rigid. Like a statue, almost.."

It would explain why he's stuck in this pose, rather than attempting to move out of it.

"Is projecting your thoughts into my mind all you can do right now..?"

Closed

[theflyingone]

Maria | second hovel | late January | Have you ever had a dream that that you um you had you'd you w

[theflyingone]

At the height of winter in late January, the snow and the cold are getting to be difficult to bear, even for people from relatively cold climates. Hot coals glow a faint red behind the stove grate to carry them through the night, but it is neither safe nor cost-effective to burn a fire while they are sleeping. They should have done this sooner: In the manner of soldiers huddling while camping, Maria and Altaïr curl under every blanket they have and some cloaks for good measure. The sounds of Willful Machine are a muffled wall of distant sound like the rush of a river.

Altaïr faces the nearest point of entry, as is his custom, and pushes away unbidden thoughts about Maria's proximity as he struggles to fall asleep. He's only grown more awkward around her, and he desperately doesn't want that to show. Maria deserves a true friend. As for more serious matters, Altaïr once again ruminates on how to explain a recent (thankfully temporary) alteration.

He shifts and peers over his shoulder at her shadowy form.

"Are you awake? I have something to tell you."

yes definitely

[givetheslip]

Maria doesn't remember whose idea it had been to pass the cold winter nights in a more agreeable fashion by sharing body warmth, but it had been a sound one. She wouldn't say she has no problem with the winter weather now, especially not with her cold blood, but it's considerably more comfortable — maybe even even more so than the coldest nights on campaign with the Templars had been, because no soldier then would have dared share sleeping quarters with Robert's female steward.

She keeps having to focus on keeping her left arm by her side, though, and not sling it over Altaïr's as she keeps wanting to. Once or twice she almost does, but if he noticed, he hasn't said anything. It seems like the most natural thing in the world to do until she remembers it's not, and even if it would undoubtedly add to the shared warmth, it would be asking too much of her friend.

She startles a little when he moves and speaks; she'd thought him asleep. Is it late at night or early in the morning? Impossible to tell right now, but either way, she can answer his unexpected question.

"Yes," she says, a little cautious. "What is it?" Why now? Had he had a dream that prompted this?

[theflyingone]

What is friendship if not using a friend as a pillow? A friend who is currently struggling with the fact that hearing her voice so close at hand in a peaceful situation is new and... a little exciting? It certainly means he's a little warmer than usual under the blankets, his heart and circulation in fine form. But he is still resting and unwilling to move much.

He should really be asleep, but this has been bothering him. (And he is already used to things like nightmares keeping him up. He hopes he hasn't been restless in his sleep for Maria to see.)

"I want you to know that you can trust me. I am forbidden from bringing harm to the Brotherhood. You are... not that, but it still stands. You are my ally and friend. Part of that is being honest with you, which I am not so used to being. I have... struggled to try to find a way to tell you this..."

[givetheslip]

This is tremendously unexpected. Not Altaïr's seriousness, that's nearly always there, but the timing and intensity. He speaks as though whatever he has to tell her can't wait until morning, or at least he doesn't wish it to. She can't tell whether what he has to tell her is good or very bad.

Maria props herself up on an elbow and looks at him, focuses on what he's already said and not what he might or might not say.

"I know I can," she says. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here at all. Not by your side in Trench, and - not here."

There are certain practicalities in sharing warmth that she doesn't mistake for intimacy, but she wouldn't do so with just anyone regardless of the need. She'd take her chances alone in Trench if she didn't feel certain.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. Even if it's difficult."

[theflyingone]

He waited a long time to tell her. Perhaps he shouldn't have. This could spell an argument, and it is not wise to let the sun set on an argument, but he is too troubled to sleep now. He's broached the subject. There's no going back, even if he is not so great at these forthright interactions.

By your side. He, too, would not sleep even in the same room with just anyone. Altaïr's seriousness is sometimes comical with how stalwart it is.

"Earlier this month I was not myself. You would have seen it most when we went to explore and gather information in Riteior's city. I became obsessed with obtaining the power to defeat him and defend the ones I care for.

"I really was not myself." It is somehow vital that Maria not think he is crazy. "I was someone else, a man who chose to follow Al Mualim's way and seize power to control others. He remembered my time in Trench and used those memories to his benefit. And when I awoke in a caul as myself, I was horrified at how similar that man was to me. He was me. I hid all evidence and did not tell you until now."

[givetheslip]

A lot of thoughts go through Maria's head in quick succession, and because she is who she is, they all show on her face.

Not himself. He sums it up so easily, and she believes it. Maria never knew the Old Man of the Mountain, but she knows what the Apple of Eden is capable of, and she knows Altaïr. To imagine a version of himself that would be willing to walk in his former master's footsteps and use that power for ill is both horrifying and nearly unbelievable. He would never...but he said it, would not lie about such a thing, so she knows it is the truth.

He'd been someone else and she'd never known it, not come close to the truth. How much danger had she been in? Why hadn't he told her sooner? Why now? She's shocked, disturbed, upset that it took so long.

But then she lookes him in the eye and all these sharper emotions give way to a softer concern. Maria had walked a difficult path for years before she ever met Altaïr, but the one thing she can say about that time is that she walked it as herself. She chose that life. To find one's very identity twisted into something she never wanted to be...it's a violation that makes her ill just at the thought of it.

"I did see it. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew something about you was different." Scarcely aware of her own actions, she touches his face, brushing her fingertips against his cheek. "Are you all right? That must be a terrible thing, to wake up and realize you weren't who you chose to be. I can't even imagine."

[theflyingone]

Altaïr prizes his own autonomy and fights for others' right to it as well. He feels very strongly about it being taken away. He hardly allowed himself to think of these things in connection to his other self, let alone allow them to show on his face. They hardly bear thinking about. Maria thinks them, and Altaïr sees it plain on her face. He has the skill, and she takes no trouble to hide it. It's like looking at the sun.

She touches his cheek, and it's like being held between tongs in a fire.

"It was as though very thin sheets of vellum were laid over each other. It was difficult to separate two sets of memories because his life was so similar to my own. Assassins and Templars are two sides of the same coin. We both desire peace, do we not? And we often use the same methods: violence, bribery, and spywork, to name a few. The other me chose his life, as I chose mine."

His eyes darken. "It is fortunate he was not here long to do much damage. He did not want to show his hand before persuading more allies to him. Should he return, he must be killed."

[givetheslip]

It's difficult to imagine the contradictory similarities, to imagine what it must have been for Altaïr to live them, but then he makes a more specific analogy and it slips into place. Yes, Assassins and Templars are much more alike than she once would have been willing to believe. Altaïr is clearly not the man who temporarily took his place, but now she can see how he could have been if he'd made another choice, walked another path.

It's unsettling. Maria doesn't want him to be anyone else. She likes him very much the way he is.

She stays quiet for a moment, considering the impact of his words. Skilled as the master Assassin is, Maria knows there are more powerful people in Trench who could end his life without tremendous difficulty, to say nothing of the pthumerians. But it wouldn't come to that if his other self returned. She wouldn't let it come to that.

"If he does, I'll do it," she says, not moving her hand away. "It might not be easy to tell — it's not as though we can come up with some kind of code word, if he has your memories. But you have my word, Altaïr."

It would be hard, and not just because they'd fought each other to a near-standstill once before, until he'd come up on top. She'd wanted to beat him then; she doesn't now.

"I truly hope it doesn't come to that, though," she says, dropping her gaze for a moment before looking back at him. "I don't have many friends. And even if I did — I wouldn't want to lose you. So just — try not to let that happen. All right?"