exsiliumlogs | Ask me no questions

Entry tags:

Ask me no questions

Date: June 30. Ish.
Location: The Initiative Market
Characters: Maria Thorpe (

givetheslip) and Haytham Kenway (

iniquitas)
Summary: Two Templars meet and plot shenanigans OR DO THEY???

[It's been a bad day. A bad week as well, a terrible month, but a bad day nonetheless. Not in any big way, but the rain seems heavier today, and Maria's vision is still blurring from the bomb gas she inhaled before making it to the catacombs. And, to her extreme annoyance when she makes it back to her quarters from a halfhearted training session, she's run out of food.

Wonderful. She could ask to borrow from her roommates, possibly, but she doesn't know them well and dislikes relying on anyone else. Besides, it's only rain and a little effort keeping her from going to the market in the courtyard and buying more.

She hesitates before dropping the cloak she's wearing to the floor. She bought it a few weeks ago, after nearly being flattened by a certain very rude Assassin, wanting to avoid further misunderstandings due to the sigil on the back of the cloak she had. But the new one is soaked now, and she'd like to at least try to make an effort to stay dry. Just this once, it's not likely to make a difference, is it?

Sod it. She pulls the cloak with the bright red Templar sigil from the hook it hangs on and pulls it on before heading back out. This will only take a little while.]

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Maria Thorpe.

[She nods in return, not giving half a damn about the fruit.]

Not anything important, unless you're very interested in fruit.

[And then it would only be important to him.]

[He feigns a small smile. Why does that name seem familiar? It's going to nag at him now, though he pushes it to the back of his mind and focuses on Maria for the moment.]

Not really--though I am always interested to meet another from our not-so-fair motherland. [He lifts a hand, gesturing to the drizzle, the decay, and by extension the general malaise that has swept across England in the future.]

I wonder, would you indulge me in a drink? Location of your choosing.

[Maria eyes him carefully, not completely sure what to make of him. This wouldn't be the first time she's been propositioned by a strange man, even a strange man who's old enough to be her father.

If that's what he's doing—it seems like it, but then he's awfully formal. Either way, she has other plans, if not better ones.]

I'm afraid I'll have to pass. As you can see, I've some purchases to make.

[Ah well, so the friendly act isn't working. Haytham immediately drops the smile, the expression on his face quickly returning to his usual neutral.]

[He can let her go, perhaps tail her for a while, and hope to eventually learn what he wants to know... In a city this size he might not run into her again for weeks.]

[To hell with it.]

A pity--I was hoping to learn the origin of the cross upon your cloak. It bears a striking resemblance to a symbol with which I am familiar.

[That gets her attention, and while she goes very still for a moment, she doesn't let her expression slip.

The sigil of the Templars is not a secret in her own time and place, but far fewer people know that the Order is more than just a group fighting for Richard in the Crusades. If this man finds it so interesting, he may be one of them. And if he is, then why? Is he a potential friend or an enemy? And what does he think she is?]

Does it really? That's interesting.

[Maria dearly hopes she's not about to be dragged into an alley once more.]

[It occurs to Haytham that she could be an Assassin plant, sent to lure others out. Paranoid? Not when you're dealing with the sorts of people Haytham's been dealing with his entire life.]

[Then again, Connor already knows he's here. If he hasn't told the others about him it's only a matter of time. Luring Haytham out wouldn't be gaining much ground on their end, the way he sees it.]

I consider myself something of a fanatic about history, you see--

[He cuts the sentence off midway, gives her a thin smile.]

Ah, but I can see that I'm keeping you from your day. My apologies.

[He sweeps his hat off and presses it to his midsection, giving her a polite bow.]

May the Father of Understanding guide you.

[He watches her face, studying her reaction to this.]

[Maria lets out a slow breath, and while her emotions are no more evident now than they were before, her comprehension is perfectly clear.

She is no longer the only Templar—former or otherwise—who's been brought here. For a moment, she takes a second look at his clothing. Nothing like any of her former comrades ever wore.

And now she has a choice. Walk away from this man and the danger he undoubtedly represents, or do what she can to learn where and when he is from, and what he might seek to do here.]

I think we'd better have that drink.

[He replaces the hat on his head, pleased at no longer having to playact with this woman. His typical smug, self-assured demeanor reasserts itself as he nods to her.]

As I thought. Shall we?

[He gestures for her to lead, ready to fall into step beside her once she's chosen a direction. The choice of venue is a concession he's already made, and one he cares little about.]

Certainly.

[She chooses a direction without thinking much about it, and picks the first establishment she sees that seems to fit the bill. Maria isn't particularly concerned with the specifics of what it has to offer.

Once inside, she quashes the many questions she has for now. Haytham can make the first move.]

[It isn't until they've found a table, ordered drinks, and the waitress has left their table to see to her other customers, that Haytham finally leans back in his chair and regards Maria. The fingers of his left hand drum idly on the tabletop.]

Now then, Maria Thorpe, I'm curious as to the year you come from, that you wear the cross so openly. Our order has worked from the shadows since the early fourteenth century.

[That answers one question, at least partially. He's not only from the future, he's from a long way in the future.]

In the time I'm from, there was no need to do so. All knew that the Knights Templar fought bravely for Richard the Lionheart in his Crusade. Of course, they didn't know of all our inner workings.

[She pauses before continuing, unsure if she should allude to her usual dress habits and the reasons behind them—but a man this perceptive is likely to know of the Assassins' presence on the island, isn't he?]

As it happens, I do normally avoid it in this place, but I found myself in need of an errand, and my plainer cloak was already soaked. I thought it worth the risk to step out in this one for a short time and remain dryer.

[The Crusades. Hundreds of years separate them, or at least their normal lives. He would have killed for a chance at speaking with one of the old Templars when he was a young Knight.]

[...still would, truth be told. Only now he doesn't have to.]

Then we should be thankful for the rain, for without it, who knows how long it may have taken for us to find one another?

[The waitress interrupts with their drinks. Haytham largely ignores her, taking a small sip of his own drink and setting it back down on the tabletop before continuing:]

It doesn't last, by the way. The acclaim. The Order is falsely accused of heresy. One of the Grand Masters in your future will submit to being burned alive to make it appear as if we have perished.

[Yes. How long, indeed.]

Does he really? That's a little more selfless than I've come to expect of our leaders.

[She can't blame Robert for leaving her to die in his place; she'd volunteered, after all. But Armand Bouchart...if the man weren't already dead, she could blame him for quite a lot.]

Soon before I was brought here, we lost our second Grand Master in nearly as many months, but there was no self-sacrifice involved.

[His thoughts stray immediately to Reginald. The man hadn't necessarily been willing to sacrifice anything of his own, but he'd certainly been willing to sacrifice those things everyone else held dear.]

[With a bit of a shrug and a smirk.]

Yes, well. We can't all be Jacques de Molay.

[As much as he'd love to sit here and pick her brain all night about the Order's past, there are a few things that need to be settled first.]

Are there others in the city?

[The man who stood on a sacrificial pyre, she assumes.]

No. Not that I know of, at least. I thought myself alone until you spoke up.

And I have only just recently arrived.

[Surely if there were others they would have found either himself or Maria by now. They would be organized, they would be waiting for new arrivals and scouting out the strength of the Assassins in the city... one would hope, anyway.]

[Which means either there are no others, or the others are shirking their duties.]

You know there are Assassins here in the city, I presume?

I do.

[At this, she takes her first sip of the drink, as much to give herself time to think of how to handle this expected line of conversation as to steady her nerves.

And because she's thirsty.]

I've seen them.

[And been squashed by one of them.]

[Good, maybe she'll know of the others Connor has only briefly mentioned.]

Do you have names? Descriptions?

They keep to themselves, for the most part. I can tell that one is from the same time as me—in my day, Assassins kept to the shadows when they left their fortress, but all knew of their existence. His style of dress is the same as ones I saw at home.

[That's at least three then--this Assassin from Maria's era, Giovanni Auditore, and Connor. How many more could be out there that neither of them has yet encountered?]

[Still, any bit of information at this point is a step in the right direction.]

I know of two--an Italian man named Giovanni, perhaps forty years of age, and a Mohawk boy of about twenty years.

[The Italian man is unfamiliar, with the exception of his birthplace—perhaps he knows that man Ezio? But the other... She frowns briefly.]

Mohawk, that's familiar...

Ah! From the land 'America' across the waters, yes? A woman spoke of it to me some weeks ago.

[Haytham doesn't let his surprise show--so she's spoken to Ziio. He can't imagine there are many other Kanien'kehá:ka in Exsilium.]

That's right, the British Colonies in the Americas.

She knew of the Mohawk, this woman?

She said she lived in the Mohawk Valley.

[An unusually sharp woman, Maria remembered her as.]

She was surprised that I hadn't known such lands even existed, but that's what comes of such time distortion, I suppose.

[He's careful to keep his expression neutral, though it's just possible that he ponders this woman from the "Mohawk Valley" just a little bit longer than one would expect. Finally he shrugs.]

A great deal has changed over the centuries.

Speaking of which, what were you doing before you were brought here? Did you have a particular mission, or specific orders?

I expect it would.

[She takes another drink before answering. It's fortifying, in a way.]

When I was taken, I was in the process of departing Cyprus after the death of Armand Bouchart. We'd abandoned the site of our Archive there to keep the Lionheart from discovering that we'd operated it there for years.

[It's not a lie.]

[Ah, it's just like being back in one of Reginald's little history exercises as a child. Haytham almost manages a genuine smile.]

Sometime you must tell me more about the Templars of your era.

For now, however, I believe our first goal should be gathering as much information about our enemy as possible, as well as keeping an eye out for any of our own brought in as fresh Transports. Would you agree?

That's a prudent plan.

[And that is the complete truth. It's what she'd do, if she were him and still a Templar.]

I try to keep an eye on the newcomers when they begin flowing in, but thus far I've been alone.

The Assassins appear to outnumber us by at least one... I shall be interested to learn how organized they are.

Very well--keep checking, and I shall do the same. Send me a message if you discover anything. [He stands] Shall we adjourn for now?

Certainly.

[She slides her glass back and stands, as agreeable as any ally, albeit one separated by centuries, would be.]

We'll speak later, no doubt.

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