[ The stars outside are disorienting. Altaïr is a man from a time where people still debate whether the Sun circles around the Earth. From the shouts and conversations in the Observatory, he has gathered that a great catastrophe has befallen their blue planet. He wouldn't have known what he was looking at otherwise.
Altaïr is still getting used to the idea that people can leave it in the first place. He is on the moon.
He has found an ally in this strange, cold, dead place, a woman he met once before in his own world. He counts his blessings. However, this is beyond the realm of anything he imagined he'd encounter in his lifetime. He does what he can, having finagled the translation function on his tablet, mapped out the corridors in his head, all while passing a watchful gaze on everyone. He realizes that he doesn't know who is part of the Initiative, and who is a captive like him. He hopes that he will not have to draw his blade in order to free himself and others. But if it comes to that, there will be no hesitation.
Altaïr explores everywhere, memorizes everything. If anyone needs directions, he has them. He is dressed strangely: a hood and white robes dusty from travel, and an array of sharp weapons. In spite of his own clothes looking nothing like anyone else's, he is interested in remaining unassuming. Coolly he observes all the tics that define each passing person from beneath the shadow of his hood. He wanders the halls, keeps near the walls in rooms, sits on benches in the cafeteria (and makes a face when he tastes what passes for coffee there).
He can wait patiently, as he does when stalking targets... but part of him is almost livid. Altaïr risked his life to free those trapped against their will. Now, he is a captive himself. ]
Altaïr ibn La-Ahad | Assassin's Creed | Open baby~
Altaïr is still getting used to the idea that people can leave it in the first place. He is on the moon.
He has found an ally in this strange, cold, dead place, a woman he met once before in his own world. He counts his blessings. However, this is beyond the realm of anything he imagined he'd encounter in his lifetime. He does what he can, having finagled the translation function on his tablet, mapped out the corridors in his head, all while passing a watchful gaze on everyone. He realizes that he doesn't know who is part of the Initiative, and who is a captive like him. He hopes that he will not have to draw his blade in order to free himself and others. But if it comes to that, there will be no hesitation.
Altaïr explores everywhere, memorizes everything. If anyone needs directions, he has them. He is dressed strangely: a hood and white robes dusty from travel, and an array of sharp weapons. In spite of his own clothes looking nothing like anyone else's, he is interested in remaining unassuming. Coolly he observes all the tics that define each passing person from beneath the shadow of his hood. He wanders the halls, keeps near the walls in rooms, sits on benches in the cafeteria (and makes a face when he tastes what passes for coffee there).
He can wait patiently, as he does when stalking targets... but part of him is almost livid. Altaïr risked his life to free those trapped against their will. Now, he is a captive himself. ]