(no subject)

[dominare]

Characters: Haytham Kenway and you
Date: 3/31/2013
Location: a little bit of everywhere, more specifically fire sector and wood sector
Situation: Haytham's doing what the British do best, chilling and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.
Warnings/Rating: nonya



Earth Sector;
[ ever seen someone utterly fascinated by mold? Whatever the answer to that question was, it is now yes, because Haytham is examining a growth of black mold with the scrutiny and devotion of an usher at the New York Symphony.

For a moment, it appears he's content to look, and not touch. Wait a few seconds more, and you'll spot him take out a knife to carve out a sliver of mold, complete with a nice chunk of tree along with it. If you wanted to stop and confront him about his lack of environmental concern, you need to hurry along because he's scaling up a tree, nearly about to make his escape in the treetops. ]

Fire Sector;
[ there is a quaint little console cafe Haytham is fond of visiting. Maybe it's the tea, which has become rather lackluster since the rationing, or the atmosphere, which unfortunately borders kitschy, or the unspoken understanding between the owner and Haytham that he should be left alone to his own devices at all times, or at least until he needed a cup refilled.

whatever the reason, it's one of Haytham's usual haunts, and today he's settled in a quiet corner with his journal laid out in front of him, quietly tapping his empty quill on the open page. If you're very observant, you'll notice a slight bump in the journal's pages, where his precursor amulet is safely tucked. ]

( ooc; BUG HIM IN ONE OF TWO PLACES. GO FORTH POR FAVOR )

Comments

[shadowroads]

[Unfortunately for Haytham, the tree already has an inhabitant- a tall man, lounging as comfortably as if he spent all his time in trees... which, considering that he lives in the sector, is quite possible. He was a cat only seconds ago, but he felt like interrogating the gentleman who'd just carved up the tree.]

An odd occupation, vandalizing trees.

[dominare]

Not so much odder than loitering in trees, I suspect.

[ there's a hint of surprise in Haytham's face as he mentally puzzles over where Tybalt could had come from; he was almost positive the tree had been empty only a few moments ago, and even though age had dulled his senses, he had not yet become so blind.

He's silent for a moment as he pulls himself into a lower branch, before casting a cool eye towards Tybalt. ]

Have I broken a law then, and you're here to tell me the error of my ways?

[shadowroads]

At least I'm not damaging them. With all the withering going on around here, I don't think tearing a chunk out is going to do anyone any good.

[He cocks his head, hazel eyes challenging Haytham to tell him otherwise. He's obviously not going to ask what he wants with the wood if he doesn't have to, but he is curious. He wouldn't be a cat, otherwise]

And no, I have no particular interest in law, at least not the laws of our glorious Emperor. I simply happen to like this tree.

[dominare]

What is done is done. This tree would have died even if I had stayed my hand. All I have done is put its misery to good use; are you not curious to the cause of this blight?

[ it's strange to talk about a tree as if it were a conscious being, but the stranger seemed rather concerned about the tree, so Haytham played along. He gives a rather dramatic sigh, before continuing. ]

The rot is growing, and if I were you, [ Haytham raises an eyebrow ] I'd find another tree to fraternize with, lest this collapses from your weight.

[shorttempered]

[Mark had been out to pick up his week's rationed food, but he forgets all of that the minute he sees a grown man climbing a tree because... really?] I'm not sure how sturdy those are. Everything's sort of been falling apart lately.

[dominare]

[ Haytham gives a rather short huff of impatience when he hears another voice; he's starting to miss Boston, where all he'd get were comments about being touched in the head before being completely ignored.

For a second, he debates ignoring the stranger, but it seems somewhat unwise to ignore a fellow foreigner; for all he knew, it could be a potential future ally. ]

It seems hardy enough from where I stand. But if you'd like, I could give it a few shakes to test my claim.

[ his face is obscured by the branches, but if Mark could see it, it would be the world's most sarcastic looking poker face ]

[shorttempered]

[Sorry Mark can be a bit of a busybody. Mainly because, for all the weird that goes on his world, grown men in trees actually still register as "weird." Not in the "wrong" weird sense, but just in the "they still do that?" weird sense.

At the offer to shake the tree, he hesitates. As he's not currently Invincible, he probably shouldn't be using his super strength... but the weird old guy in the tree was being such an ass about it he felt compelled to mess with him.

...Oh what the hell, if he pushed too hard he could blame it on the decay.]

If you insist.

[At that, Mark puts his hands on the tree in question and gives it a push--he's careful to use more strength than the average person, but not enough to actually snap the tree in two. He's hoping for something to cause the tree to sway and seem less healthy than it truly was.]

[dominare]

[ well, that was unexpected. Haytham tumbles from his perch with the grace of a dying dove, scrambling just in time to catch a lower branch before he hits the ground. Assassins never have been really good at climbing under duress, anyway. ]

Are you deaf, or merely touched in the head?

[ moment of panic over, Haytham goes back to what he does best, saving face by being a total sassy asshole. ]

If you wanted to show you make up in brawn where you lack in brains, you've done a bang-up job of it!

Fire Sector

[bindsthedead]

[Haytham isn't the only tea drinker in the establishment. With her bells and sword hastily buckled over local clothing, Sabriel sips her tea with a certain satisfaction- it's the first she's had since she left Ancelstierre for the Old Kingdom, and she's in no position to complain about the quality.]

[dominare]

[ it's the bells that catch his attention. Haytham barely looks up, catching a glimpse of black hair, oddly pale skin, and a very interesting sword, one of a make he's never seen before. ]

Terribly bitter, isn't it?

[ he doesn't bother looking up from his journal, although it's clear he's addressing Sabriel ]

It seems proper storage is a concept new and foreign to Keeliai, among other things.

[bindsthedead]

I wasn't expecting to have any tea at all when I arrived. [And Sabriel gives him a wry smile.]

Hopefully the Kedan are simply too busy storing food to worry about the tea. [The rationing may have come as a surprise, but Sabriel could see the sense behind it.]

[dominare]

Hoarding.

[ Haytham corrects, because as far as he is concerned, 'storing food' is merely a euphemism for the cold hard truth. He finishes a sentence in his journal, waiting for the ink to dry before looking up at Sabriel. ]

Curious things, your bells. They're not just there for decoration.

[ nothing as simple as a bandoleer of bells would be secured so well. ]

[traitre]

[lack of environmental concern-- what do you mean lack of environmental concern? concern's the only thing that could get any respectable man to skulk around, picking ooze off rotting trees.

at least that's what's got qilby out and about in the earth sector today. the flora in the fire sector left much to be desired, but until now, he hadn't realised it was a plague that'd spread outside the bounds of his new home. it's about time he tried finding the root of the problem... no pun intended.

he's surprised to notice someone else who's taken an interest in the same things he's inspecting, but even more startled to see the stranger apparently scuttling up the tree afterwards--] Aah-- excuse me a moment!

[dominare]

Do you really need only a moment, or was it merely a clever opening before you ask for more of my time?

[ UNAMUSED. But Haytham is kind enough (or bothered enough) to swing down, landing with an easy grace that men his age shouldn't be able to muster.

He gives Qilby a rather haughty glare, almost as Qilby was overstepping his boundaries ]

Well?

[traitre]

[if qilby finds that rude, he doesn't show it much-- he only straightens, drawing himself up to his full and considerable height where he can't help but look down his nose at haytham.

anytime else it might be equally as haughty a gesture as that glare he's receiving but hey: qilby's smiling pleasantly, isn't he?] Was my ruse that transparent? I'm afraid they're not my strong suit.

I just couldn't help but notice the interest you've taken in the blight. Perhaps you can answer a few questions about it.

[dominare]

[ Haytham pauses for a moment, somewhat surprised by the candid reply. It wasn't all that often someone admitted to asking a hypothetical, but it was refreshing. ]

I'm sure there are others who could answer your questions far better than I am capable of.

[ but he'll try, somehwat ]

fire sector cafe

[cowled]

[Cafes aren't Bruce's favourite places in the world. He generally only uses them when he's moonlighting as one of his other personas. Craig, specifically. Matches on occasion. But presently, he is acting as Bruce Wayne, and with reason.

The rationing has caused several cafes to close, others yet to cut back on their supplies. This one has been reduced to selling tea that may as well be murky water and scraps of bread masquerading as pastries. It's... more organized, but in many ways the frantic scramble for food here reminds him of the Quake.

But that's not why he's here. No, today he's here to speak with Haytham Kenway. Which is why he, with his cup of watered-down tea, steps up near the other man's table.

Also? That journal is interesting.]

Excuse the intrusion, but you're Haytham Kenway, correct?

[dominare]

[ Haytham's done a remarkable job of keeping on the down low in Keeliai, a feat mostly achieved by a lack of Templar brotherhood, and a rather grumpy half-realization that influence was not so easily achieved here as it was in Boston. For the reasons above, it's odd to be so easily recognized in his typical cafe by someone other than the owner.

He looks up at Bruce with a polite expression that betrays only the slightest bit of curiosity. ]

It's unnecessary to ask when you're quite aware of the answer.

[ an abrupt answer, but a yes. He places his quill down, folding both hands before continuing ]

I don't believe I've had the pleasure.

[cowled]

I wasn't, actually. I-- spoke with a previous incarnation of a man named Haytham Kenway, who looked very much like you, but one can never be too certain in this city.

[He holds out a hand.]

Bruce Wayne. I believe you're acquainted with an employee of mine, a Mr. Javert?

[animalhats]

[ Unfortunately for you, good sir, this tree has a 12-year-old in it, and she's been watching you. ]

This is my tree. No grown-ups allowed. Especially weird grown-ups who stare at mold.

[dominare]

[ Haytham pulls himself up onto a branch before staring incredulously at Molly. A child, really? ]

Shoo— go along, now. Your parents must be deathly worried.

[ he's read this in a book somewhere; you shoo away kids, right?? He's become rather cruel and short tempered in his age, but even Haytham won't harm a child, as frustrating as they were ]

[animalhats]

[ Molly rolls her eyes - she doesn't like to be shooed. ]

Nuh-uh. I don't have parents. Well, I did, but they were bad guys and then they got killed. And I can be in this tree if I want to, anyway.

earth sector;

[amonfire]

I hope you aren't planning to drag us into a theater of chemical warfare with that.

[ Amon appeared to materialize out of thin air; a shadow pulled up from the cracked flagstones they stood on. Though he stood at parade rest with hands clasped behind his back there was a slack in his posture and a hunch in his shoulders that broke apart whatever fearful symmetry he was attempting. ]

[dominare]

Nothing so sinister— merely unchecked curiosity, and a rather pressing need to learn the truth behind it all.

[ Haytham's tone is breezy and light for a man who just got accused of being a terrorist, but after dealing with a menagerie of people and a child he could shoo away with money, Amon is a rather welcome sight.

Welcome being rather relative. ]

I must admit, I'm rather hurt at the accusation.

[amonfire]

Intelligent men don't pick things off the street without something already in mind. I didn't think you were going to saute it with butter.

[ Casual accusations of terrorist activity aside, the feeling was mutual. Running into Haytham was a happy accident from leaving the clinic early, but he wasn't one to complain.

Amon was very, very tired even to a casual observer. Behind the cut of white wood there was tired shadows swimming where eyes should be and a disposition like a cracking rock weathered against too many storms. Succinct and practical company was all he wanted to keep, if any. ]

Most people don't take to heart what a man in a mask will say anyway.