[Altaïr watches the bearded face grin, and he notices what looks like a scar strangely similar to his own. His head cocks to the side slightly but he makes no mention of it.]

One hour?

The climb up the factory face was somewhat cumbersome given the architecture of this place, but Altaïr of course made do. Hand over hand, careful footholds, hoisting himself up past windows and ignoring if anyone was inside looking out to see a man dressed in white slipping out of view, Altaïr made his way up and up the factory facade until he finally had both hands over the lip of the roof. He lifted himself up enough he could peek over the ledge, and to his surprise the other already waited there for him.

Altaïr looked him over a few seconds, noting the highly decorated robes compared to his own simple ones, and also the... very large stature of the man. He was a big man, bigger than Altaïr had expected for some reason. He pulled himself up the rest of the way and saw Ezio turn to look at him, and Altaïr bowed his head and put his left hand with the bracer over his chest.

"Safety and peace, Ezio." He wanted to ask if he was late but he didn't think so, and it didn't matter regardless. "The girl, Alice, mentioned you to me."

Edited 2013-06-09 11:26 am (UTC)

Great one... Altaïr was somewhat stunned into a silence as he listened to the man's deep Italian accent, it had such a lulling quality to it, like a sweet incense in a market drawing you to one particular tent over another. The words were spoken plainly though intelligently and Altaïr could not help himself but be impressed. He knew it must be partially due to being called great one, but he tried not to put too much weight on that. Altaïr knew better than nearly all that his own pride was too often his downfall.

"No," Altaïr answered slowly. "I do not recall it." What an unsettling thing to be told you were somewhere before though you do not remember, especially being as this had been such a shocking upset. All of this technology, all of these foreigners and strangers, the week Altaïr had been here he was still not used to it. This man in white robes who knew his name, it felt like the most solid and safe moment that Altaïr had experienced so far. And yet even in this, there was eerie news.

"I have been here, this time, but a week. Yourself?"

Altaïr stayed still where he was, arms tense at his sides as they so often were, in a somewhat awkward pose he was not conscious of. At the mention of undead he cocked his head to the side like a bird spying something curious, and the corners of his mouth turned downward for just a moment. When Ezio was done speaking he straightened his head once again and waited a few moments as he thought about this news, quiet and thoughtful.

There were no Templars here. It was as he suspected, from everything he had seen and witnessed here. That was not to say they couldn't show up again at some time. Altaïr had learned of the moon cycles and their bringing newcomers, such as himself, in each month like clock-work. Altaïr had no idea what to make of the story of the undead. He was troubled with the same thoughts he had a few days ago when speaking to the strangers: if there were no Templars what purpose had an Assassin? Trying to help where and when he might, he supposed. Could he pose this question to Ezio?

Great one... Altaïr lowered his eyes to the roofing between their boots, then slowly looked up Ezio, noticing his fine armor and weapons. The man looked like he was ready for war and Altaïr was, again, impressed by him.

"Do the undead often come here? Is this the purpose you have found for yourself in this place?" Asked in a searching tone, something much softer than he normally would ever use with anyone save for Malik.

Edited 2013-06-09 12:11 pm (UTC)

To keep a peace, that was highly reasonable, just in case something did happen or Templars did come to this world. Ezio had the right way of things, Altaïr thought. It would not do to be lulled into a false sense of security despite the apparent peace and then be caught unawares and unprepared. Altaïr nodded after this was shared with him, his thoughts moving briefly to the fact Ezio was so far from his own time. His thoughts then jumped to the man Isaac Clarke mentioning knowing someone from around that year, a coincidence perhaps?

He supposed now he was Master of the Assassin Order being as Rashid was gone. Dead, by his own hand. Altaïr took in a slow breath and moved his fingers to feel against one another in an anxious gesture, slight as it was. It was too much now though, he had to ask for his curiosity was too great on the matter.

"You call me Great One, and Master. Was I this to you when I was here before?" Altaïr moved his arm subtly, feeling at the large pouch hanging from his thick belt to the left and back. The Apple was there, always with him. Altaïr did not trust to leave it at the various places he had found to sleep around the city.

Wisdom... Altaïr wondered what wisdom he could share, through a year of taking names and lives and receiving little answers, to his final revelation with Rashid ad-Din Sinan. Altaïr could remember his mentor's words even now, in the man's voice clear as Ezio's was who stood before him in person.

I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also was a chasing at the wind. For in much wisdom, is much grief, and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.

And the lessons he had learned, the humility and loss at learning his mentor had been his greatest enemy, the sorrow that came with that -- did that mean that Altaïr now had wisdom? Perhaps, a wisdom to share with other novices, about pride and believing in your creed, about working with your brothers rather than against them. But even with this wisdom Altaïr did not feel as if he were prepared to be a mentor in his own right and time. Though perhaps, he thought, with Malik by his side his continued ignorance would be tempered by the wisdom of others.

"I would share the wisdom of many that came before me and who helped me on my path," Altaïr said slowly of this, though his eyes were on Ezio's boots and not meeting the man's eyes just yet. "Hopefully it were those pieces of wisdom I passed on and not my pride speaking." Altaïr looked up to Ezio, thinking of the Piece of Eden he carried. He wondered at it being a shared burden, if he could trust this man or not, and he felt that he could.

"I would share with you more, something I have with me. Is there but a single assassin here, and therefore no bureau?"

It was good there was somewhere safe, and Altaïr was as eager to follow as Ezio was to show him. The man climbed very fast and a few times Altaïr had to push himself faster than he normally would climb in order to keep up with the older man! The assassin's movements were refined, graceful and highly controlled. Yet once more Altaïr found himself impressed and he wondered between them who was more the Master, and if Ezio would retain this reverence. In the back of his mind he could hear Malik's opinion on that matter.

When Ezio stepped forward with such a grin, Altaïr gave him a curious look which was then turned to unguarded surprise at a hidden blade coming out of the right bracer. Altaïr had thought it merely more armor, decorated to match the left bracer which he had assumed from the start to hold the blade. Altaïr had also noticed the man still had his left ring finger but had not thought much of it at the time. This man had not only more weapons than him but improvements also. Indeed, Altaïr thought, who would be mentoring whom?

Once inside he followed Ezio though his eyes were all around them more than where they were going. It was a good hideaway, it looked well guarded in its secret entrance. But Ezio would be here all alone in such a bureau? Not any longer, at least. They would be solitary brothers. Altaïr stood by his seat in quiet and he continued looking around the room with great curiosity, but after a few seconds he moved to Ezio rather than sit down.

"Your second bracer, may I see it?" Altaïr held out his right hand. When Ezio permitted him, he moved closer and lightly grasped Ezio's forearm with his right hand and turned it over to view the underside. Altaïr leaned down and looked over the mechanism, the fingers of his left hand tracing over the improved design, and his fingers briefly touched up along Ezio's ring finger which obviously no longer needed to be removed. Without asking Altaïr grasped Ezio's other arm and brought that up too, leaned slightly over it and touched along the identical hidden blade mechanism, and he took a moment to inspect Ezio's finger with the healed burn mark.

Altaïr stood straight again and let go of Ezio's left arm. He was close enough now he could see the man's face better beneath the shadow of the hood, and his eyes looked into Ezio's eyes for long seconds before they went down to his mouth, and looked at the scar there. His right hand came up to touch his own scar and he tilted his head slightly and gave Ezio a questioning look.

It was extremely rare that Altaïr ever took his hood down, for any reason, whether he was in the presence of other assassins or not. There simply was no reason to and he was so accustomed to it that having it off felt far more odd. However in this moment, it seemed the vulnerability and exposure was appropriate. It somehow seemed a moment of trust and kinship between them, and so Altaïr brought his hands up and hesitated a brief second before he continued the movement and he too took down his hood.

Ezio was a good two inches taller than him at least, and seemed much broader in stature. Altaïr found it impressive the man moved as fast as he did, and he wondered how old Ezio was. At the mention of Malik, Altaïr very briefly wet his lips. It was good to know that Malik had stayed with him and had helped him, the Levantine Assassins needed someone grounded and truly wise such as Malik. Altaïr had needed Malik.

"Malik being mentioned comes as no surprise to me. I would have wanted him with me, to help lead our Order. You say that is of my design? I, ...it must have been later, I have not seen the likes of a second hidden blade before. And this other machinery, nothing like it." He spoke of the hidden gun, though he didn't know that was what it was.

"I would benefit from you teaching me what I do not yet know." Altaïr was hopeful, and confident, that Ezio would spare his time for this.

With a nod Altaïr sat down, getting himself settled, and his eyes trailed Ezio as the other man moved from the room. Altaïr's eyes went down his back to the tails of his white robes, then to the boots of his well kept leather boots. European, Altaïr thought to himself, then looked down at his own robes and his very worn, much softer leather boots. He wondered quietly to himself if Ezio was content with this Great One or not? Altaïr thought so, he seemed eager to show and to share with him, and Altaïr was confident that even if he was so far from the past his skills were still of some use in Ezio's time.

When Ezio returned Altaïr looked up and sat up straighter as the tray was sat down. He took up one of the glasses and smelled it, smelled the alcohol in his drink and gave Ezio a look before he took a small sip to taste it on his tongue. The bubbliness of it took him by surprise and his eyes squinted a moment before he set the glass back down and wiped his hands on his lap before taking up the Codex.

"These were my words?" he asked for confirmation as his eyes took in what Ezio had copied from memory: I have spent days with the artifact now. Or has it been weeks? Months? I can no longer be certain...The others come from time to time – offering food or distraction. They say I should separate myself from these studies... Malik has even suggested I abandon them entirely. But I am not yet ready to turn away. This Apple of Eden will be understood. It must be...Is it a weapon? Is it a catalogue? Is it somehow both?

Altaïr looked up from the pages and stared across the room before he set the book down carefully, and he scooted up in his chair. Altaïr twisted his torso and retrieved the Apple. "It is this which I had wanted to share."

"The boy, he was an assassin?" Altaïr asked, impressed with Ezio not wanting to touch or inspect the Apple. It was a great artifact of power, and it said much of Ezio's strength of character that he would deny it even while knowing its power. Altaïr looked down at the sphere in his hand, mesmerized for a few moments over the inherent glow that came from the curved lines of it. Altaïr blinked slowly before putting the Apple back away.

Then, on second thought, he took a few moments to unhook the pouch from his belt that the Apple was in. Altaïr set this pouch with its heavy burden down on the table and he too reached for the tray, but tore himself off a piece of bread.

"If it is safe here I would keep the Apple here. I do not like carrying it with me but have no safe place to keep it myself." He was putting much trust in Ezio with this task.

Altaïr's eyebrows rose slightly but only for a moment, and he gave a nod. He would keep this in mind in case Desmond returned as he evidently had himself, and as Ezio had several times now by the sounds of his story. "Your hand, the finger. I see this had changed at some point." Altaïr brought the bite of bread up to his mouth and chewed it while he felt at the nub where his finger had once been, then looked up to Ezio as he swallowed.

He leaned forward to take his glass and tried another sip of wine, finding it strange, exotic on his tongue. His eyes wandered the room again and he felt the richness of this place. Ezio was a man of means it seemed, and it felt so different from Masyaf. The only luxury they had was the garden. The fortress itself was old, and required much upkeep. His eyes went to Ezio's robes and armor, and then he smoothed his hand down his chest and it came to rest on his wide belt.

He was a man of means unless he had help, it occurred to him. "You built all of this yourself? Are there no other assassins here?"

Altaïr gave a slight nod, thinking Ezio wise for having done so with what resources he had, and thinking so far ahead. His eyes trailed over the details of the others' clothing and armor yet again it occurred to him suddenly that these robes could be that of a Master, in Ezio's own time. The robes were different enough from his own that who knew what the Master's or Mentor's robes would look like?

He bite off a small piece of cheese while staring at Ezio's belt and his eyes lifted to the other man's face. His tongue felt at the scar on his upper lip and he realized he had never shared his own tale, even if Ezio's had been vague. "Mine was during sword practice when I was a novice," he said, out of place somewhat for their conversation. "Sparring in the training ring."

Altaïr popped the last bit of cheese into his mouth and stared at his lap while he chewed and swallowed, then he came to the question he wanted to ask next, and he met Ezio's eyes for it. "Are you Master in your own time?"