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Who: Altaïr (

theflyingone) & OPEN to anyone who wants to greet a new arrival
What: Assassins iiin spaaaaace! (and in the snow too)
When: Nov 8-12ish
Where: Thesa and Nadril
Warning(s): I mean, he's a murderer who had his finger removed years ago so he could hide a surprise knife.

A. Thesa Station
All in all, he was taking this well, if repressing all his fears and worries could be considered that. Altaïr did not feel safe, so he could not relax or give in to melancholy. He ruminated just a short while on how he only agreed to this "deal" because there was no other recourse. He almost didn't believe it, not because it was so impossible--anything was possible--but because he never simply accepted what he was told. He only completely trusted in the evidence he saw with his own eyes.

Right now, his eyes were telling him that he was far from home, in millions of ways. He stepped cautiously through the station, feeling naked without his blades--save the one hidden in his left bracer. His hooded white robes were lightly dusted with travel, and his step was uncannily quiet out of habit and caution. To his eyes, the place looked unnaturally immaculate and alien.

Though he viewed everything with suspicion, he had to stop in wonder at a window. In his time, glassmaking had not yet progressed to the point of windows as large as this. The expanse of starry black space beyond it hardly seemed real, the way the distant side of a chasm in the earth looks more like a painting. He reached up with a calloused right hand and gently touched the glass.

B. Thesa or Nadril: Tech Support
Predating the first computers by hundreds of years, it was a miracle he managed to open his communication device. Some words and symbols meant nothing to him, but an accidental brush of his thumb and... mistakes were made. He decided to give in and ask for help. But first, he must pretend to be a harmless, confused, and totally honest wayward medieval scholar. Totally. It wasn't that far from the truth; he did grow up well-educated and with easy access to a library.

"Excuse me," he asked politely, the very picture of a studious, ambitious young man heading for his doctorate. "I do not know how to use this reading tile. Can you help me?"

C. Nadril: Underground Market
He couldn't say no to a universal translator and supplies for trekking in the snow. Just... getting supplies in general was wise, as he had very little, and he was made to understand that his accommodations were temporary. Even through the unnerving haze of not being able to go home, or even having a home to go to, he instinctively watched and observed the people here, trying to memorize how he might blend in as a local himself. When he'd done it as part of his job back home, his life had depended on it.

His brow furrowed as he scanned the market for more conversations to eavesdrop on. He wasn't sure how to use the smooth metal tablet (the datapad), but maybe somewhere down here he could procure some real paper and pen to take notes properly.

D. Nadril: Magda's Communication Tower
With some warmer clothing on top of his robes, he could explore in earnest. Maps did not show a living, breathing colony, nor hiding places or little-known paths. For these, he decided he should climb the tower and use both his training and his other eyes to see Nadril properly. He stood at its base, testing its outer surface with his hand and foot...

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This man seemed confident, like he knew his way around both this place and its people. Altaïr decided he wanted to know if he had an ulterior motive in approaching him. Most of the time, Altaïr didn't stand out or even make broad gestures when talking. Out of habit, his presence was one designed not to make waves.

"Do you help people find things?"

"I mean, not as a career."

He offers a shrug, a sort of half-smirk on his face, leaning against one of the stall posts. He looks Altaïr up and down for a moment, as if sizing him up or trying to determine what he might be dealing with.

It's true that Gabriel doesn't find things as a career (he barely has a job here as it is), but information gathering and the like had of course been an integral part of his skillset.

"It depends on what you need."

A smuggler maybe? Altaïr had no need of a smuggler. (Yet.) Rather than bending under his gaze, he remained exactly as he was, half-turned to him with a guarded expression on his face. His robes were designed to mimic a scholar's from far away, but the tall man with square shoulders could conceivably be built for something other than books. His hands were calloused, and he was missing a finger.

"Better maps would be a start," he said, frowning at the snow. "I have many questions as well, but I fear they do not have easy answers, and each person may only tell me their incomplete version of the truth." He thought of that story about the blind men and the elephant, each touching reporting a different description of the creature.

Despite the length of time he's been here, Reyes is still trying to wrap his mind around the existence of other worlds and the people that come from them. Altaïr's choice of dress means very little to him, to the point where he's guessing what it says about him and coming up empty. The missing finger, however, doens't go unnoticed, though Reyes knows there could be a multitude of reasons for that.

Best not to underestimate him either way.

"Would you believe they actually have us mapping the place?"

Granted, they're being paid for it, but Gabriel likes to think that says something about the state of things.

"I don't have all the answers, but I can try to help you out."

They had the power to bring many people from many places, and put them in space. Was it lack of ability, or lack of trying? Altaïr dearly wanted to ask that outright, but the existence of a space station was likely to cause waves among the planet's populace.

"Who are 'they?'"

"I guess it used to be the Orbiters, but now it's just the locals."

He offers a vague gesture around them, to note that he means the people who are actually from here, even if Nadril is its own special case, given the increased level of technology.

"I'm sure you've met a few by now.

"Why do we not tell them the truth about us?" He asked in a low voice. "Their magic is so far-fetched anyway, why would they not believe a craft hovering in the sky?"

It was all strange to him. He was all for maintaining order and not starting a panic--until he wasn't. Dissembling about himself was one thing, but he wasn't sure how he felt about lying to all these people for so long about an integral part of their world.

"Because we had no leverage, I guess."

There was no telling what the Natha would have been able to do to them--even now, he can't be certain that the Natha are really gone. Better to err on the side of caution. Revealing this level of technology to the people of Olympia and Wyver might destroy their society.

"Might be different now that they're gone, but nobody's wanted to take the chance."

He didn't either, until he learned more. Most people Altaïr met nowadays had to put up with him peppering them with questions about this new world he was expected to live in.

"Nadril seems fond of scavenging old machina. They are probably the closest to finding a way to see into the sky, unless some magical solution comes up." He shrugged. He really didn't understand magic, a thing he only learned recently existed, so he wasn't going to pretend he did. "If left to their own devices, they may find the secret anyway. We're not yet sure the Natha are gone, then?"

"I'm not sure."

He didn't trust the Natha while they were here, and he sees no reason to trust that they're really gone.

"But I think if it's gonna happen, it should happen on the terms of the people who actually live here."

That is to say, he's perfectly content to stay out of it.

"I do not like that we know so little of these Natha." He was used to being thrust into situations where he knew very little, but that was what investigation was for. Eavesdropping on people, stealing documents, whatever. He hunted his targets relentlessly. Here, he was out of his element with little promise of leads and no Brothers to command. His usual ways of getting information were slow-going now.

"I am a scholar. I find information. Forgive me if I seem impatient." And frustrated and terse.

"Yeah, you and me both."

But the way Gabriel sees it, there's not much to be done about it now. He's not sure there ever was anything to do about it in the first place. Suffice to say, he understands Altaïr's frustration.

"You don't have to apologize to me."

"I wasn't..." It hadn't even been a real apology, just polite words that were his default with informative strangers. Wrestling a real apology from him took effort.

"Anyway, why did you approach me? Surely I do not look like I can pay you for your information. I'm not even sure I will have my room next month." He doubted Nadril had a booming tourism industry, and he suspected smuggling would fare better here, but markets were where a hustler could ply his trade anyway.

Gabriel shrugs, his mouth pulling into a wry grin.

"Pegged you as a refugee. Wanted to see who the space station spat out this time around."

So, no payment needed--Gabriel is just trying to get the lay of the land, as it were.

Interesting hobby. Still, he could see how he would have come to that conclusion.

"I'm fine," he said in direct contradiction to his earlier statement about unsure lodgings. He had a funny definition of fine. "I'm sure there are those who have it worse than me. I'm used to traveling."

He was right about that part at least. If he was kicked out, he still had the ability to travel to a warmer climate where he could sleep on random rooftops until he found a place.

"Space travel?"

Gabriel supposes it's possible, but he has his doubts. His own version of Earth only made it to the Moon, and that hadn't gone very well in the end. He's interested in hearing what was the case for others.

He blinked at him incredulously.

"No, that is impossible. It takes months just to get to the Far East. I meant that I am used to being in new places and moving around. On the earth. Not... um, in the sky." He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Thesa station might be.

"Just checking."

Gabriel isn't one to outright wink, but that kind of sentiment is certainly there in the wry grin that's on his face.

"You never know."

"Is it common then, where you are from?" Why else would the man ask, he thought. The concept itself was mind boggling to him, but he was trying to understand. He tried not to look too put out that this man was amused by his lack of knowledge. Altaïr was used to having all the answers, or at least obtaining them quickly. After he became Mentor, people expected him to.

"No, we didn't make it very far."

Certainly not to the degree that they're experiencing now. The Moon was about it for them, and it hadn't ended well. With so much to deal with on the planet itself, space exploration had remained out of reach. He imagines it's true for many places, not just his version of Earth.

"So this is new for me, too."

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