OPEN
Who: diadermic AND OPEN
When: Noon, before the sirens go off.
Where: Sector 4 in the streets unless taken somewhere else.
Summary: "My name is Altaïr, and this is my favorite bench in the whole Siren’s Port." MAKE HIS LIFE HELL
Warning: NOPE or not yet anyway OPEN FOR ANYTHING???? oh and possible philosophical stuff lolol.
It was unnerving, how the city seemed to be devoid of quiet. The streets were heavy with the bustling of civilians and newcomers alike (The term of newcomer was disliked by Altaïr, they were not newcomers, they were prisoners stuck in an illusion that mocked their own very existence.) -- it was easier to start fitting in, to start being oblivious to the very cause that caught them in this prison and make men delusional with thoughts of contentment. On the other hand, Altaïr was not one of these men. He understood what this ’core’ -- what this Piece of Eden -- was capable of. It was temptation, and it was sucking the very souls out of it’s victims.
Instead, Altaïr found it pointless to search out this pseudo-contentment that seemed to drown other’s. His mind was purely fixated on the possibly of breaking this sorcery, to diminish these companies that child spoke of in a colorful language. Men and women were not toys to be played with, nor should have they been restricted.
The assassin found himself sitting on a near-by bench in the sector he first appeared in. His own apartment seemed to be devoid of life, and the assassin found himself staying with Malik more often as well as searching for information concerning the object that was rumored to bring them forth into this place.
Altaïr sat, his elbows propped on his knees and this was familiar to the many times he had escaped the Templar guards before being brought into this fake cage, as well as his first encounter with Desmond.
Both occurrences served as useful, but not useful enough.
This time Altaïr had been curious about AGI and SERO, and hopefully the words of the wandering civilians and prisoners would stop in the middle of the street to discuss it between themselves, to speak of their doings. But what Altaïr did not think of was the possibly of himself being interrupted by another.
-- But if it was to happen, then so be it.
When: Noon, before the sirens go off.
Where: Sector 4 in the streets unless taken somewhere else.
Summary: "My name is Altaïr, and this is my favorite bench in the whole Siren’s Port." MAKE HIS LIFE HELL
Warning: NOPE or not yet anyway OPEN FOR ANYTHING???? oh and possible philosophical stuff lolol.
It was unnerving, how the city seemed to be devoid of quiet. The streets were heavy with the bustling of civilians and newcomers alike (The term of newcomer was disliked by Altaïr, they were not newcomers, they were prisoners stuck in an illusion that mocked their own very existence.) -- it was easier to start fitting in, to start being oblivious to the very cause that caught them in this prison and make men delusional with thoughts of contentment. On the other hand, Altaïr was not one of these men. He understood what this ’core’ -- what this Piece of Eden -- was capable of. It was temptation, and it was sucking the very souls out of it’s victims.
Instead, Altaïr found it pointless to search out this pseudo-contentment that seemed to drown other’s. His mind was purely fixated on the possibly of breaking this sorcery, to diminish these companies that child spoke of in a colorful language. Men and women were not toys to be played with, nor should have they been restricted.
The assassin found himself sitting on a near-by bench in the sector he first appeared in. His own apartment seemed to be devoid of life, and the assassin found himself staying with Malik more often as well as searching for information concerning the object that was rumored to bring them forth into this place.
Altaïr sat, his elbows propped on his knees and this was familiar to the many times he had escaped the Templar guards before being brought into this fake cage, as well as his first encounter with Desmond.
Both occurrences served as useful, but not useful enough.
This time Altaïr had been curious about AGI and SERO, and hopefully the words of the wandering civilians and prisoners would stop in the middle of the street to discuss it between themselves, to speak of their doings. But what Altaïr did not think of was the possibly of himself being interrupted by another.
-- But if it was to happen, then so be it.