Altaïr ibn La-Ahad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theflyingone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2018-11-13 02:02 am
theflyingone) wrote in nysalogs2018-11-13 02:02 am
[open]
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...
theflyingone) & OPEN to anyone who wants to greet a new arrivalWhat: 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...
no subject
"They want you to protect life down there." An afterthought, as all life is to Takasugi. "What do you want?" That's a far more important question, the motivation of a man shrouded in white staring into the expanse of space is bound to be interesting.
no subject
"If they wished for something so simple, they could have asked without all this suspiciousness. And taking my things. Many would say they wish to protect life. I suppose what I want is to know the truth hidden from me." A simple enough desire, and not specific enough to betray any future plans he might make. He didn't know this stranger, after all.
no subject
"They wanted to show off. Like a charlatan and his tricks. They've tricked everyone living on that planet into thinking they're gods. I imagine they were hoping for the same reverence from us." And some of the refugees have bought into it, though Takasugi isn't among them.
no subject
Which was why he, too, looked like he tasted something bad.
"I don't believe in fairytales. Even if I did, that sort of behavior does not earn my respect." Humans had the right to worship whatever phantoms they wanted, but someone actively tricking everyone into being their followers sounded like the sort of thing his enemies, the Knights Templar, would pull.
no subject
They've already surrendered themselves to their 'saviors'.
"You're in the minority.
But, not alone." Takasugi gives a nod, a fleeting smile before he turns to survey the stars once more. "Are you looking for someone to respect?"