smash_logs | Dorm Log: Scorching Summer Edition

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Dorm Log: Scorching Summer Edition

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She was still there, her attention diverted elsewhere than her village for the time being. Having taken Jon's advice, she'd been given a position, despite the idea that 'classes' had evidently been completed. Regardless, it seemed to suit her surprisingly well. Although she questioned the decency in guiding someone she didn't know.

Begrudgingly she imagined it'd make sense to her eventually.

Most of her time was spent in the trees above the woods, however, where she'd already made encampment for herself. It was away from the others, a little quieter, about as peaceful as it was going to get. And it granted her something that felt more familiar to home than the original room she was offered.

Hit a snare, it was likely Ziio's. The woman was nothing short of resourceful and clever.

An especially large crow settled down on a branch, just in the right spot to be caught under a net. Though the net was clearly sized for something smaller, it was enough to throw the bird into a panic. It flapped and fluffed, trying to dislodge the ropes.

A flash of red, and a strange decorated weasel-like creature dashed up onto the tree, slashing at the ropes with its oversized claws.

"I see. So someone has set traps..." a low voice mused from just out of sight.

Through the trees.

That was the route she'd taken. In which her feet never found the ground. She was quick and swift, an animal on the prowl, and she'd not been far when she heard the very catch of her snare. It had been set for food. She needed nothing large, for when she did, she'd use her own hands to do such. A snare wouldn't work on large prey.

Crouched on a branch above the trap she set, she watched and waited, eying the animal who'd set her dinner free. Yet she remained unmoving and said nothing when she heard the voice. For it was new to her and anyone new might as well have been an enemy.

The weasel creature stood still, glancing around for any further danger as the crow settled on another perch, this time letting out a loud, keening cry.

Below, the man's gaze drew upward. Though he couldn't see the crow from his vantage point, he knew the call was to summon others of its kind. Soon, a flock of smaller crow creatures would be on their way to assist.

A plethora of them. Ziio watched with some interest from a few trees away. Rising, she was careful not to let the branch creak beneath her weight. The man who'd spoken was a thought she kept in mind, but behind the concept of in flight birds.

Well, creatures who resembled birds. Yet something seemed a little off about them. For having been in a forest almost her entire life, she knew something about wildlife. They weren't any birds they'd ever seen. She could wait a little longer yet, but with the way she moved to the balls of her feet, she was ready to turn tail and flee.

If she needed to.

The crows drew near, their cries and flapping increasing in volume as they did.

The man watched cautiously. Whatever was going on in there seemed to be under control, but he had no idea what he was up against.

To remain still seemed safer. Hand upon the handle of her knife, she felt prepared. She had to be. She always had to be. Expecting the unexpected was a requirement and had been for as long as she could recall. From when she had been taught adaptability and survivability.

From a different tree, she could have seen Cyrus probably. Inevitably she could have if she moved amongst them the way she did back in Young America's forest by the valley. But the birds had to be observed first before she did any other thing. Just in the event that the situation became dangerous. She couldn't allow a mere man to distract her.

So to the birds her attention went instead.

Whatever you were doing, your son had just now stumbled on your encampment.

...So this was where you settled. If it weren't for his attachment to the rounds on campus, he would've maybe been here too. Instead, any free time was spent catching his next meal.

He actually caught a lot today in his snares. A few rabbits and squirrels. Nice. He was carrying his game when he arrived here. Not on accident, he could see the encampment from a distance. He thought that he needed to go there.

And he found his mother.

This was still really happening.

He had not interrupted anything in particular. Nothing aside from her skinning something small she'd caught in a fairly meticulous manner, perhaps with the intent to make something of it. And he'd interrupted her thoughts, but it was from nothing she particularly wanted to think about. So all in all, her son's discovery of where she stayed was not wholly unpleasant.

Or unpleasant at all.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," she commented, without looking up, for she'd already seen him from a greater distance at where she sat in the shade of her 'roof.' "Or is it 'Connor,' now."

Good ol' Ziio. Not really knowing what it meant to be subtle.

Mhm.

Unsurprising to him.

Afterall, we were going to have to go into everything at some point, right? And everything might not get touched upon the first meeting. Might take a looooooooooot of talks. Might as well...start now.

It was his dear mother. So much...to catch up on. Oh Mom...

"So you know..." Connor said as he remained there...standing.

He shook his head.

"'Connor' to some. But I am still born to and will always be 'Ratonhnhaké:ton'..."

"I had no intentions of calling you anything other than your name," she replied succinctly.

She pointed to the ground ahead of her, free space for him to sit. And that seemed to be the general indication. Ziio looked to him for a few moments and she nodded, before turning her attention back to the animal fur that had occupied her.

"Are you well?" she asked him simply.

How odd...that he had to basically ask for permission to sit with his mother.

This wasn't...boding too well inside. The scars that were inside were still healing from their last encounter. And they might sting for a while yet.

He sat down.

And now he had to try to get into small talk...it was the way right? To get that relationship back? How was he doing? This was a start, right?

He wanted a relationship badly. But the little fear inside was that he would wake up and he would have lost that chance somehow. Make every moment count, someone might say.

"I have...been better," Connor stated as he decided to use this opportunity to skin his own game alongside her. This was...bonding right?

"...Have you seen my Father yet?"

...Welp.

For her, it was still odd. But she didn't feel nearly as transparent. Or perhaps it was because Connor was her son. She felt like she could have - at one point in time - said she knew him better than anyone else. But clearly many years had passed, and she could no longer claim to be privy to that knowledge. In fact, the possibility sat where in Haytham, for all of his time with his son, might have been better acquainted. Despite having not been involved with his childhood.

And it was a thought that angered her.

Briefly her hand tightened on her skinning knife, and to distract herself, she eyed Connor for a few moments. More so when his question arose. Ill topic number one. She felt conflicted, even if it didn't read on her rather unmoving face. Not even just a 'feeling.' She was conflicted.

Finally she nodded. "Yes," Ziio replied. "We talked for a little." She thought momentarily of the fleeting moment where she'd felt slightly at ease with him. With his wit and sense of humour she hadn't minded. "He has grown old," she observed, harbouring a very small smile on the inside.

"I told him to stay out of your life," she continued. "And he agreed not to interfere with either of us."

Connor was emotionless by appearance as well, he didn't want to admit how hard this was. Perhaps because he wanted to be strong ESPECIALLY in front of her. It's not like it was a facade. More rather, just trying to keep it together and to himself.

Which was harder to do once she spoke of her Father in that way.

"I had said, many years have passed. His age is how I remember him as," Connor said as he sighed. He took his own knife and went at his own game too.

But then, he jolted up as she spoke again.

Stay out...of his life? Not to interfere? Was it too late for that?

"Mother," Connor said, speaking up at a slight higher chord. Stern-ness evident. "That is...do you think he will really agree to that?"

Edited 2013-06-21 21:47 (UTC)

"His age is how I remember him as."

She still didn't know how old her son was. And a part of her didn't want a precise number. There was still the matter of trying to find out where she fit into his new life. Could a boy who lost his mother grow up adapting to the situation to the point where he no longer needed her? Even Haytham had sounded proud of him, and undoubtedly Ziio held a good deal of pride in Connor.

But she couldn't say if he needed guidance any longer, or if he did - if he needed hers. And that was about as conflicting as her feelings regarding his father and their bittersweet reunion.

"Haytham is, with me, as he ever was," she explained simply, knowing that Connor wouldn't fully understand.

For she'd never made a habit of speaking of the Brit much. Not that she'd ever gone far to badmouth him or display a good deal of dislike for him. Only that he was who he was. He was what he was, and it was not compatible with the life they were trying to live.

"There came to be you, Ratonhnhaké:ton, and I learned of your father's allegiances to the Templars. I sent him away from us on that day, that he'd never see us again. He upheld his word then. I see no reason why he would not uphold his word again. Not when it was I who spoke of it."

A simple implication that she seemed to earnestly believe Haytham would respect her request, just as he had four years prior for her. Perhaps changed in some ways, but not in all. Not when it came to matters of the heart, mayhap. And in that respect, he could prove to her he still had one.

Edited 2013-06-22 00:40 (UTC)

Things he knew:
- He loved his mother
- He missed his mother
- Would have loved to spend any time with mother

But now that we were here, it was so awkward. Weird. He didn't understand it at all. And not only that, but it annoyed him that he didn't. He furrowed his brow as he skinned an animal he brought some more.

...He felt like his mother could see through him. Know from just looking at him what he was feeling and maybe a little of what he experienced.

Achilles spoke of her, so perhaps the Assassin way wasn't new to her.

"...You are...aware of what I have became, do you? I met the old man, Achilles," Connor finally said. "I had to stop the Templars...Save our people..."

She found herself pausing again to look over to him. Perhaps he didn't see it, but they really were very much alike. Haytham was not wrong. Even at his current age, there was much of herself in him. It made her smile. A little. Lightly. Vaguely. Not enough that anyone from afar would have caught it, but perhaps he would have.

If he looked in that brief period that it remained.

But then he continued and she nodded. "I understand." She motioned to his robes, "I knew when I saw. I'm familiar with the Brotherhood, and I haven't forgotten Achilles." Ziio sat on his words with some consideration and found herself nodding again, slower than she had before.

Then a pause.

"I'm proud of you." And back to skinning. Almost... done.

"I'm proud of you."

That hit him like a ton of bricks. He stopped entirely with his skinning. No, we weren't done here. With the talking, or on Connor's end, the skinning.

He wondered...No. As much as he wanted to take that, he felt like he really couldn't. He was so damn sick of this feeling. It made him sick. Again, it was inevitable. It had to be brought up sooner or later.

So why not. Now.

"I am unsure if you should be," Connor said. Slowly, as if sad. Very sad.

"I failed. I arrived one day to our village when I thought I stopped my enemies," Ziio can take that as she will, "Shortly before I arrived here. It was empty. Our village. They were chased out of their land by Congress."

"Do you think that it was your responsibility?" she asked him pointedly. Ziio thought about looking to him, but knew very well what she'd see in those soulful eyes of his. He would be all too obvious and evident. And perhaps she might have been able to share the sentiments.

Then after a few moments of consideration, she stopped as well and did put her attention onto him. Undivided. So he might know she heard everything he said. So he might know to take everything she said, hear it, and remember it.

"You alone could not have prevented that. It was never your place alone to attempt it. Yet you did much more than what was expected of you, didn't you?" Her eyebrows lifted. "If you insist on punishing yourself, you will drive yourself mad."

Then she looked down and leaned onto one palm as she eyed what she'd been working on, "A man's worth is not judged by what he accomplished, but rather who he has become through hardship. You'd do well to remember that, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

Connor felt bad.

Because he would argue EVERYTHING. One at a time, arguments. Let's give it some backstory. Because it was serious.

"I was visited by a spirit long ago. She said if the Templars gained control over the colonies, outside influence would destroy our village. I could not let that happen...it was my responsibility..."

He trailed. He wasn't sure if he was punishing himself or not.

Wait. No. He couldn't do that. He kept telling himself not to.

"It was not by choice. It was by obligation. But I began to fight for what I believed was right. To that, I accept that task; despite my failures. Fighting for peace, the people's liberties. I have...no time nor the will to punish myself, Mother. I know I myself may never accomplish what I want in my lifetime...but if I kept fighting where I was needed, then I knew I did something."

While she understood, Ziio had to admit that she felt a little annoyed by listening to him. Yet she respected his perspective and again, she understood it. Perhaps she would have felt the same. And in a way, she did. Her people had vowed a lack of involvement, claiming it wasn't their 'way.' That they weren't to. It wasn't meant to be.

And that was how she'd gotten involved. Because no one else would do it. So she'd carried that responsibility herself. And naturally, it had eventually led her into further complication. But if she hadn't taken that initiative, then there would have been no entrance of her son. As she looked at him, she didn't dislike her own failures quite so much.

"I choose not to hold you accountable for what seems to have been inevitable." What else could she really say? Because she felt like any of her words would be held onto briefly. Connor had developed something of a seemingly stubborn mindset.

Not too unlike her or Haytham.

Leave it to Mom to make him feel...whatever. He already had Achilles pretty much call him a stubborn mule. And now we had her putting him in his place and telling him it was okay basically. Like she really understood him deep within. Not blaming him or reprimanding him at all.

Where did he get that from anyway? Stubborness.

...Achilles said that there was a lot of her in him. He looked at this past few moments.

Maybe then, he began to see it.

She was truly...his mother. He actually picked up his knife and started carving again, but he was dead silent.

Not an argument or anything. Had she made her point clear? He said he didn't have the time to punish himself. She doubted he was running about constantly in this new place. Or that he had. Perhaps when he first arrived. She would have believed that. But in the present, he likely had much more time than he was confessing to possessing. And she didn't doubt with everything he said to her that he didn't stew about it on a regular basis.

So he could take the time he wanted to and do with it as he wished to, but tearing himself down, or lamenting over what was lost was only detrimental to himself. And she got the impression he knew it already, which was why she didn't bother to badger him about it. After all, what right did she have? She still wasn't there for him when he needed her to be. Even though she could have done nothing to prevent those change of events.

"You have other things on your mind," she observed. "Tell me of them." Just so he wouldn't be as she was and hold it all inside.

He was knocked out of deep thought when she addressed her again. His head went up and looked his way.

...Jeez, you can hide nothing from this woman. Her words struck his insides.

And he suddenly felt the urge to...talk.

What. A. Momma's Boy.

"It is nothing," Connor said. "Nothing of importance. More of what I heard of you rather than me really knowing of you. Achilles told me of you as well. How you were a friend to him."

And how I was like you.

"Nothing of importance."

That urge to scold him came up again, and again she refrained. If he didn't wish to tell her, he didn't have to. She had to accept it. She had to respect it. Even though she felt conflicted over not being able to treat him as she would have if he was the son she was accustomed to.

He is not a child. I cannot treat him as if he is one, she sternly reminded herself as she listened to Connor continue.

She nodded to him, "Achilles was a capable man when we met. If it hadn't been for him or the Brotherhood, I could not be who I am. I had only the drive, but not the resources. Achilles provided that to me. I considered him as much a friend to me as I must have been to him."

Dorm Log: Scorching Summer Edition

Ziio | Library, Woods, Office & Other

I'm not sure what sorts of snares she does so I hope this is ok

This is A+!

Thanks!

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hi mom / derr woods

hi son

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