Voice testing, homeless

[pushesgently]

You would have me remain here in idleness while you make up your mind what to do with me?

Be swift, then. I've important tasks to see to, and not enough patience to wait endlessly for your decision.

Comments

[getdownfromthere]

Hey!

You there!

.../immediately cracking up

[pushesgently]

[Uh-oh. He doesn't have time for this. Hmm, where's the nearest haystack?]

THE LAW IS NO LAUGHING MATTER

[getdownfromthere]

Slow down! You could hurt somebody!

I AM THE LAW--wait no I'm not

[pushesgently]

[He'll slow down juuust long enough to get around this small crowd and then go for it—

Oh no, how do these beggar women always find him?!]

[getdownfromthere]

[hustles after him, not bothered by the beggar women. Job perks!]

Get back here-- have I seen you before?

[pushesgently]

[I can punch them if I want to, okay, it just makes me feel oddly uncoordinated, even...out of synch.]

No. I'm just a scholar.

[getdownfromthere]

[eyes him, suspicion bar filling]

You don't look quite like one. Something's off.

[pushesgently]

Peace. I seek only my brothers in knowledge.

[getdownfromthere]

That's a lot of knives for a scholar...

[pushesgently]

Would you like to see one up close?

[getdownfromthere]

[BECOMING ALARMED]

[pushesgently]

[ L1 means you appear sort of glittery and Altair is locked on target ]

[getdownfromthere]

[sudden self preservation instinct kicks in]

[backs away]

Yes, just a scholar. Certainly.

[regretzio]

[strum]

♪ Altair, oh Altair, the Assassin who gives no quarter
Deadly at his trade with a blade
(Just keep him out of water) ♪

[pushesgently]

[what is this]

How do you know my name? Speak quickly, minstrel.

[regretzio]

[strum]

♪ You're very famous for your works
Like writing books and stabbing jerks ♪

[pushesgently]

[Well, he can't deny the second part. Master assassin right here, not a novice.]

I have written no books.

[skennen]

[Nice Assassin garb there, stranger. Connor will just wander on over like so... walk around a bit, rub at his knuckles. Casual casual. Totally not eyeing you or anything.]

You do not know the ways of the mundanes.

[Said with a scoff, of course. Mundanes, Altaïr, they are like Templars. If Templars only sought to control people to make them act out various sad and/or... intimate scenes.]

[pushesgently]

[Oh hello, great-great-great...whatever-grandson. Not that he knows that.]

I know the ways of my blade. That is enough.

[Are you altogether sure that they do not, Connor?]

[skennen]

[Oh, we might not actually be related. We just both contributed to the mess that is Desmond Miles. Somehow.]

You will find your blade is useless here.

[I'll take Things Connor Refuses To Ever Consider for 500, Alex.]

When my mundane first took me in, a man in large pants approached me and told me to run. 'Run while you still can,' he said. I did not listen and now it seems it is too late for me, but I will pass his advice on to you. Run now, before your voice is loud in her ears, and you may yet be spared this fate.

[pushesgently]

[Good, because this one does not yet have any clue what it means to be a positive paternal figure.]

Tell this large-pantsed man that I am not afraid. [He is curious about what sort of pants, and why they were so notable.] If my blade is useless, others means won't be.

[skennen]

[And yet a shame. He could have joined Connor's small collection of paternal figures who, for one reason or another, can't bring themselves to be positive, loving, or supportive.]

You will be subjected to her whims if you don't run... Sent to any number of foreign lands, forced into unnatural situations. [Connor usually isn't particularly concerned with others' clothing choices, but you should have seen those pants. Three or four times the size of your average trousers.] You have no power over the mundanes. None of us do.

[pushesgently]

[Come back at a later canon point and we'll see if things change. Altaïr can be vaguely paternal and Connor can babysit Darim and Sef.]

I've faced those who sought power before, nine men who believed they could control others' minds for the greater good. All nine are dead now. There is always a weakness; that's true for the mundanes as well.

[skennen]

[He would make a good babysitter. Eagle feathers for both of them, a few rounds of hide-and-seek, stories about a child-hating, peace-ruining monster named Charles Lee... Hurry up and have those kids, Bro.]

What weakness do you expect to find in your mundane?

[So dubious. These mundanes are obviously impenetrable forces of feelings and fangirling, and Altaïr just doesn't know it yet. Or perhaps Altaïr knows something he doesn't, in which case he's all ears.]

[pushesgently]

[All in good time. There are wives to woo and towers to climb first.]

Weakness of mind and spirit. Even the truest believer may be blind to the truth of their cause. I've seen this with my own eyes. If Templars can fall, so can mundanes.

[Probably the first one. That arrogance isn't totally gone.]