Sequence One Ѽ Arrival [Video]

[failssassin]

[The feed starts with a fuzzy blue view, the sound of fabric shifting can be heard over steps on wood. The blur stops and the blue reveals to be someone's jeans. Then the feed moves again and this time it shows an upside down view of a young man: it's clear that Desmond is holding his communication device in his hand by his side and has

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[isanovice]

[ Bad enough that there was one fool who'd already arrived and shared his face, but the look of annoyance he has now is perhaps double what Ezio had received. He's sure of it now; this place was definitely playing it's games. And Altaïr was quickly growing tired of being the 'Gods' pawn. ]

I have no knowledge of anyone by the name of Freud- but you have certainly been brought on a journey.

[ And then, allowing the annoyance to ease into his tone. ]

Who are you.

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[failssassin]

[Still convinced he's stuck in some dark part of his mind, Desmond almost rolls his eyes at Altaïr's comment. Only some common sense keeps him from doing it, some sort of small voice whispering to him that caution might be the right way to go.]

I wouldn't expect you to know him. [His tone makes it clear that he seems to know the other Assassin]...What sort of journey?

My name is Desmond Miles.

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[isanovice]

[ The way the other speaks is almost... strange. Denotes an odd familiarity, though he is certain that this is not Ezio. Desmond's voice is different, his mannerisms as well. ]

They say we have been brought to the Underworld. I cannot claim the truth of these statements, but things here are... strange.

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[failssassin]

[....well it makes sense that Assassins don't get to go to Heaven, if that even exists. Desmond nods slowly.]

How...strange?

[Somehow, the novice's instincts dictates to thread carefully around Altaïr.]

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[isanovice]

It varies. Anything from deep mists concealing strange, dangerous creatures, to old wounds reopening, bleeding without halt. [ Until it was almost too late, but he doesn't say this. ]

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[failssassin]

[Sounds like a lot of fun. Only not.]

So this is really Hell, huh?

[Why else would he be looking at his ancestor through a touch pad communication devide?]

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[isanovice]

So they claim.

I have my doubts. [ Just because he would acknowledge that something, or someone held strange, supernatural powers here, did not mean he was willing to go so far as to believe that this place was really as everyone claimed. ]

They say you can tell the dead from the living by the beat of your pulse. Or lack of.

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[failssassin]

[Desmond almost snorts at that]

Is that really difficult to think that after all we did, we wouldn't end here?

[They stole, they stalked, they killed. No paradise for Assassins. Not that it changes anything since the novice still thinks he's hallucinating or something.]

I have a pulse. Do you? [Rhetorical question, really. You died centuries ago after all]

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[isanovice]

That is not what I said, is it? [ There's the slight hint of mocking in his tone. Desmond is quickly forming the same low opinion that Altaïr had for Ezio when first they had met. ]

I do. Why would you doubt this? [ It is especially puzzling because of all the strange things he's been hearing otherwise. Desmond also might note that from how he's broadcasting, it's apparent he has neither throwing knives, nor his short blade over his shoulder. ]

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[failssassin]

[Wow, you are as difficult as he remembers you to be Altaïr. No wonder Malik throws things at your head.]

No, you said that you didn't believe this is Hell. I just assumed you thought you'd go to Paradise. That's pretty unlikely, just so you know.

You do? Huh. [Desmond pauses, finally noting the lack of weaponry on the Syrian. It doesn't give him much information though, as the novice assumes it's because the Assassin might not have been able to get hold of some in this place.]

Well, from when I come from, you died centuries ago.

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[isanovice]

[ Malik is an irritable one-armed man who was cranky even before Altaïr set him off. The throwing things is still pretty justifiable, though. ]

I do not entertain the idea that my life after death will be perfect for what I have done. But nor do I regret my actions. [ Have a scowl, Desmond. He doesn't particularly feel as if he needs to explain himself to the likes of you.

This, though. Brings him pause. Centuries? Desmond was centuries away from his life? This was a hard thing to comprehend. ]

Then how do you know me. [ Perhaps, if he hadn't been so annoyed, he would have been thinking more upon the matter of how the other might be used, and might help him learn of all the strange things in the Underworld that are beyond his comprehension (though not for a lack of trying)- but he is too busy being hung up on his pride, his frustrations. And so is not thinking so clearly as he perhaps could have been on the subject. ]

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[failssassin]

[The scowl is what stops Desmond from making another comment regarding his ancestor's afterlife. Instead, he mentally curses himself for letting out that he knows the other man. Telling Ezio he's his descendant didn't go so well, so maybe he should be cautious this time]

History. You're a pretty famous Assassin within the Brotherhood. [In doubt, always stroke his ego?]

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[isanovice]

[ This brings Altaïr to pause, wondering what it was that he could have done- or would do to make him known within the Brotherhood, for centuries past his time. His scowl softens to a frown, but it is still a frown, none the less. ]

Why? [ The demand is simple. He wants to know, even if it is perhaps, not the best idea for him to have this knowledge so soon. ]

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[failssassin]

[Desmond almost takes a double-take at Altaïr's question. How can he not know? Unless....unless he didn't remember anything about the year the novice lived through him. And if so, maybe it's not a really idea to tell him]

Oh, you know...you were just that great. Changed the Brotherhood and all.

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[isanovice]

[ Altaïr regards the other with a narrow-eyed, scrutinizing stare. He is trying to discern whether or not the other is lying to him- his words seemed so far-fetched, downright strange.

He does not find evidence of the usual cues for such things- and yet still, it seems impossible. ]

I do not understand. I changed the brotherhood?

[ A pause, and then he scowls harder. ] How?

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[failssassin]

You...hum....promoted it in other countries and pretty much stretch the strength of the Brotherhood beyond the Holy Lands.

[...How much can he tell his ancestor without sounding too suspicious? Or worse, completely insane?]

I...can't really tell you all about it. It'd kinda spoil the surprise for yourself, no?

[In doubt, always use humor. Too bad for Desmond is actually sucks at making jokes.]