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[alltenfingers]

[Ezio has been growing restless. Finally over the cold he had been getting, he has opted to spend the day anywhere but indoors. It's like being caged, sometimes, being within Aliunde, and yet being indoors all day while here is even worse. After years, decades, of running, climbing, jumping, battling, killing and fighting, barely surviving, and

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[givemenames]

[All these secrets although that's their lot in life. It would most likely do more harm than good if Altaïr learned of it and he wouldn't want to somehow change history if it means that it makes life harder for Ezio or Desmond, not when there is so much at stake.

Ah yes, the young must always be put in their place - they need goals, something to strive for, especially with Ezio being around twice Desmond's age (he'd ask but it shouldn't matter although he did want to know by just how many years Desmond was being beaten, just to laugh over it) - it would show Desmond what he needed to achieve too, to be able to stay nimble, active and strong enough to take it. After all, if someone else tried to do what they did, they'd probably end up with an injury fairly quickly.

The roofing is definitely much better. The tiles are less likely to fracture under him, there aren't suddenly a complete lack of rooftops, those are always fun when you're running guards and suddenly have to throw yourself hard enough to knock all the breath out of your lungs.

Once Desmond is healed, they'll need to do this. Often. He may need to ask if he can try a hookblade, at least once or twice, they do look more convenient than he first thought.]

[alltenfingers]

[With the quickest glance back at Altair, Ezio takes a sharp turn and dives for a rooftop opposite, just about managing to grasp the ledge, though it takes him a second longer than he wants for him to right himself and he hates that it took even a moment more than it used to, in years past. He's certainly still capable and able, for a man of almost fifty-three, from the period of time he comes from, but he is well aware he has lost a fair amount of speed and talent over the years, because of injuries that ruined him, and age, and illness.

Of course, taking Desmond out often to rub it in his face that at his age he can still beat him in a race (and a fist fight) is always a good idea, and he is sure Altair will beat him in this race, though he certainly wouldn't mind. Altair is born and bred of the Creed, while Desmond chose to run away from it and return after nine years through events he couldn't avoid.

Maybe Desmond will beat both of them, one day, and Ezio is certain it'll be a proud day, albeit one he won't see.]

[givemenames]

[He follows, swinging himself up, starting to feel the sweat beading beneath the hood; practical, essential but stifling some days or when you really work up a run. At fifty-three Al Mualim had put down his blade (well save for the odd stabbing, one Altaïr was on the receiving end of) so to be running like this? Altaïr is impressed when they live such hard lives. Ezio has obviously taken care of himself as much as he can given how often someone is out for their blood. He closes the gap though but he is a young man who cut throat his way through Arsuf after Jerusalem, left a carpet of bodies behind him and then fought Robert and some of his men before galloping back. He knows he is in his prime and that it is a fleeting thing.

Altaïr and Desmond were both trained from boyhood, the difference being that Altaïr knew his lessons had a purpose and it rankles that Desmond's father put him through the training with no words as to the purpose of it all.

Desmond and Altaïr will be evenly matched when it comes to a race once Desmond gets more practice under his belt. Maybe if they're all in Aliunde long enough, Ezio will get to see that.]