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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]

[Perhaps somewhat unsurprisingly, Altaïr has been off, doing his own thing shortly after arrival - this is a new environment and what better way to learn about a place than to explore? Given to doing his own things and with no master that he is bound to report to, he simply left the bureau, hood up and disappeared off to see Aliunde with his own eyes.

Desmond had been right about the noise, his head hasn't quite stopped buzzing with it and it is harder to hear secrets although most of those secrets are mundane, the day-to-day matters of men and women going about their lives, no mysterious meetings or plans for him to overhear

[alltenfingers]

[Ezio spots Altair, that short distance away, and he is well aware he is being watched and that Altair awaits his next move. A small smirk spreads over his face and he looks in the direction of the main hideout, then casts his glance back to the other Assassin. A race home, perhaps?

A small nod to him and Ezio starts, making a dive onto the roof across from him and using his hookblade to pull himself up and running in the direction of the hideout. He hasn't had anyone good to race besides Desmond and he rather enjoys shoving him off the rooftops, if he can, though many of their races turn into lessons, where Ezio lectures his descendant about skills, accuracy, and patience. Of course, there was the time that a race turned into training and training turned into a spiteful fistfight where Desmond took out his emotions on Ezio and Ezio quickly reminded Desmond that he wasn't playing around with some old man, he was dealing with Il Mentore.

This race should be considerably more fun and far less of a task or training.]

[givemenames]

[Seeing as he hasn't had the chance to indulge in any sort of friendly sparring yet, he's interested to see how an older assassin moves because Al Mualim had been in his study with his books for many years until their fateful confrontation. He might learn how he'll move one day.

He follows quickly, a smile (or as much of a smile as Altaïr manages) on his face as he does so. He's not seen the hookblade Desmond mentioned in action yet, pondering over how they use it but it does seem to be somewhat of a boon. The last time he ran against someone who wasn't an informant, Kadar still lived. Such a long time ago now. Putting on an extra burst of speed, he leaps, arms outstretched to catch himself, pushing up and onward quickly. It's good to run without someone ready to hurl a rock at his head.

They'll need to do this with Desmond soon, he thinks, and the recruits. Showing off and training in one moment.]

[alltenfingers]

[Ezio would tell him just how he moves as he gets older, if he wasn't so against the idea of keeping as much as possible a secret from Altair. He doesn't feel it's fair to spoil the future for him, and changing his fellow ancestor's opinions on things could change a lot of things and make Desmond's journey a lot more difficult. He'd rather not be responsible for that.

He keeps an eye on Altair, though he isn't pushing himself so hard to make sure he wins. He would, if this was Desmond, because their grandson needs to understand losing to those who are better at this than him, but Altair is his spiritual mentor, and Ezio is not so proud or arrogant a man that losing to him wouldn't be an absolute honour. Even despite that, he's not going to throw the race, so he runs and leaps, catching hold of ledges if the jump is too far, and he's sure the people of Aliunde are lucky to have better roofs than the people of Renaissance Italy or the Holy Land.]

[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

[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