(Untitled)

[avowed]

Who: Altaïr (oneblade) & Malik (truncately).
What: A very angry reuniting.
Where: The streets near the residencies.
When: Backdated to the first night, nearing dawn.
Warnings: Pissed off assassins.

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[truncately]

The night had seemingly dragged on forever and in a timespan that was meant for study, occupation and if granted rest, he had come across a handful of the civilians of this world that had either intrigued him or perturbed him in one way or another, though primarily he slowly was coming to find this world cursed, laced with sorcery and confusion, lies and deceit and for the dai this kept his mind busy, in a perpetual pace with thought and consideration for what had happened, how he had arrived here and why in the name of god would such a world repress the night and not allow words to slip pass ones lips. The idea of communicating by thought was something that he never thought possible, it was an idea that only mystics and those rooted to darker realms considered and Malik was far from a man who would consider such sorcery true. Yet when the other voices made residence amongst his own thoughts, he felt as if he was going mad with the idea that someone else could project thought into his own. It was something evil, unnatural and nothing

[avowed]

Unnoticed, Altaïr snuck along the rooftop, closing distance between himself and the figure. It couldn't be-- was it? The man who he'd accompanied in Solomon's Temple, who'd lost an arm and a brother. Some shock settled in, surprise that Malik was appearing within the supposed illusion. Was he meant to apologize? Was this some test of humility the master was proposing? An inward scoff at the mere idea; none of this had been his fault. Altaïr had nothing to feel guilty about, he was not the cause of the other assassin's misfortunes. Or ex-assassin, really, as he could no longer perform the duties of a killer.

Altaïr continued to trail him, being as quiet as possible, light-footed and careful. As of recently, the assassin wasn't as bothered with silence and stealth as he had been, figuring his targets far too unaware of their surroundings to realize impending death; Malik was different. As much bad blood that seethed between them, Altaïr was not stupid enough to downplay the other's skill. Of course Altaïr himself possessed more skill

[truncately]

The more he traveled throughout the streets, the alleyways of the estranged city the more he thought that something was amiss in all of this. Not only was there something abnormal in the world he had awoken within but a lingering feeling seemed to rise within his chest, something within his weary mind clicking and suddenly it was growing apparent that something or someone was trailing him, watching him, noting his steps. His first instinct was to look northward as the most apparent regard would be that such actions would be actions privy to one of the order. Yet the dai was quick to remind himself that he was no longer within his homeland, amongst that familiarity so for discretions sakes he kept his eyes level to where they had been throughout his efforts to traverse the paths in secrecy, without further interruption. It was important not to draw too much attention to himself at this point and so when he found himself within the rather tight quarters between two buildings, he spotted hope in the form of a stack of crates that lead

[avowed]

A quizzical gaze was cast over the dai as he climbed, watching as he maneuvered his way up the wall. The roof he was aiming for was near, near enough that Altaïr slid himself behind a chimney to avoid detection. Rather than confront the other man immediately, he wanted to at least see where he was headed, if he appeared to be just as lost and unfamiliar with the land or if he had some sort of goal. Still, Malik wouldn't be the skilled once-assassin he remembered if he weren't wary, if he weren't perceptive to another and expecting to be trailed or otherwise observed silently. So Altaïr moved with this assumption, being careful with his footfalls and concealing himself behind any sort of structure upon the rooftops he could. Now it would be more difficult, moving along behind him on equal ground. He'd have to keep from straying far from any sort of spot that would hide his body, much like trailing some hyperalert target to steal information from