they never meant to be famous.
Characters: Altair and Ezio.
Location: Outside of Shibusen's main school.
Rating: Should be PG, but with Ezio...
Time: Backdated to September 5th.
Description: Finally. They actually talk. And maybe figure out some Important Details on Worlds.
It had been a stupid thing to do. Altair knew it, but wouldn't accept it; he was too busy stalking through the alleyways, taking the 'low ground' to find the square-- which meant that aside from his rigid shoulders and clenched-fist posture, he looked... pretty normal. Dull green hoodie (hood up, of course) and jeans - for the second time in as many outings, mostly due to the fact that he didn't want to spare too much thought to whether or not people would be staring at him when he hunted down his target.
What a way to think about this. It was the only way he could keep from getting too angry at himself (or, in actuality, Ezio), though. The fury was there, lurking under the surface, but it was carefully repressed with concentration and distraction. The distraction being whom he needed to find right then. That Kamui would give out his name- that it would lead to this-- frustrating. So very frustrating. Particular, too, that this other 'assassin' had no Brotherhood, but knew of it. From history books.
There were no direct history books. Altair knew that for a fact. Just how far ahead, exactly, did this man come from? Were they even from the same world? The assassin wanted to deny it, but -- the clothes and knowledge were too similar to ignore. That, at least, was an unfortunate, definite truth.
He stuck to the outskirts of the area, hands deep in his pockets (kitchen knives once more in there), eyes continually searching. He would bet the other was still wearing those white robes (still inappropriately, in his opinion), but he still looked for anyone that acted the same as he recalled.
Location: Outside of Shibusen's main school.
Rating: Should be PG, but with Ezio...
Time: Backdated to September 5th.
Description: Finally. They actually talk. And maybe figure out some Important Details on Worlds.
It had been a stupid thing to do. Altair knew it, but wouldn't accept it; he was too busy stalking through the alleyways, taking the 'low ground' to find the square-- which meant that aside from his rigid shoulders and clenched-fist posture, he looked... pretty normal. Dull green hoodie (hood up, of course) and jeans - for the second time in as many outings, mostly due to the fact that he didn't want to spare too much thought to whether or not people would be staring at him when he hunted down his target.
What a way to think about this. It was the only way he could keep from getting too angry at himself (or, in actuality, Ezio), though. The fury was there, lurking under the surface, but it was carefully repressed with concentration and distraction. The distraction being whom he needed to find right then. That Kamui would give out his name- that it would lead to this-- frustrating. So very frustrating. Particular, too, that this other 'assassin' had no Brotherhood, but knew of it. From history books.
There were no direct history books. Altair knew that for a fact. Just how far ahead, exactly, did this man come from? Were they even from the same world? The assassin wanted to deny it, but -- the clothes and knowledge were too similar to ignore. That, at least, was an unfortunate, definite truth.
He stuck to the outskirts of the area, hands deep in his pockets (kitchen knives once more in there), eyes continually searching. He would bet the other was still wearing those white robes (still inappropriately, in his opinion), but he still looked for anyone that acted the same as he recalled.