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In this community, I spam words.

Who: Ziio, Open
When: 06/13 - Evening
Where: The Academy Library - Or in that area of.
What: By way of a fated book, Ziio arrives in Smash Academy. ~~The lesson that we should all stop reading.~~
Warning: N/A

What is this.

The pointed question and the most direct one. Also the one that didn't provide an immediate answer. Naturally, the obvious answer was a sanctuary of books - a library. Not that it explained the situation any better. To go from a village in one moment to a library in another. Some would have held a vision responsible, but the imagery too vivid.

And the moment Ziio ran a forefinger over the spine of a book, it was too obviously real. So this was reality. Some sort of reality. An unexplained kind.

The lack of clarification was irritating at best. But if opening a book had been what brought her there, then it seemed logical that opening another - the right one - would take her back to Kanatahséton. Which eventually led to an ever growing pile of books that Ziio had opened and found disappointment in.

In other words, someone was going to have a lot to clean up later.

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"We'll see how true that is," was her immediate reply as she raised her voice. But it wasn't exactly how she wanted to carry on conversation. If she had to carry on conversation.

Ziio leaned a little further out, hand on the handle of her knife. As if simply to say she was prepared. There was no way she had the intention to leap over to him, but in the event she needed to, it wouldn't have been hard to jump him from above. Provided he'd been on the ground.

Idly she'd seen other trees. Plenty of places to hide. To sit. To wait. And if she hadn't been too wrong, she was sure there was a forest in the distance. Food. At least until she had a plan. She wasn't without aid. She could survive, but she'd never questioned that.

"What do you want," suspicion in her tone, in her eyes, in the back of her mind.

Connor noted the hand on the knife.

In his heart, he had a feeling. After all, he couldn't expect her to recognize him right away. He was twenty-seven years of age now, she remembered him as four. He refused to let that tiny boy out who might've been hurt a little bit. That little boy was foolish. Connor was different now. Too different. He had to prove to her not only was he not the enemy...but something else.

He lept from the roof and slowly headed her way, hands still raised once he reached the ground.

When he got close enough-

-he removed the hood to reveal his face. A face that had grown soft upon reveal. Maybe, if she was as perceptive as he hoped she was, could pin out similarities in appearance. He had her features, some of them. Surely enough, the dark skin. The beaded braid. The tomahawk on his waist. The bear claw necklace on his chest.

Immediately then, he shifted in voice. And spoke their native tongue.

"It...had been too long, Mother."

Had she grown tense? Slightly. Guarded. Wary. Not entirely comfortable with how he approached her. She'd had no idea what to expect. There was nothing specific anticipated, just a collection of theories. Of how things could have gone poorly. But to react appropriately, it was important to give even the worst situation some credibility.

And find a way to overcome adversity. Never surrender. Always fighting.

Her insides felt a sharp jab of immediate disbelief when she heard him continue. Not simply their words, but the very title. Had she frozen up? Perhaps. As if she'd forgotten how to move. She hadn't, of course, but she couldn't quite piece it together. Why he was calling her that. Why they spoke the same.

Except at the same time she did know. He looked like her. The features unmistakable. He looked like... He had some similarities with his father, but a softness in the eyes, even softer than hers. Except she felt less than soft, even in the present moment when she was faced with something - someone - who should have been impossible.

What to say. Could she say anything? Part of her wanted a closer look. Another wanted him to stop nearing her.

"Stay your distance," came her reply as she held fast to her composure. But her hand moved from what she had thought would protect her, because she knew well enough it'd do nothing against the man who called her 'mother.' "It can't be." And yet it could.

...Couldn't it?

Connor expected it, but wished it didn't happen. He kept his distance upon her request. Who knew what she was thinking.

This crazy madman. Calling her "mother". A grown man.

What had he really expected? An immediate embrace?

Foolish. Nothing was that sweet. Not ever. His face grew even softer. He had to make her believe. He had to. He had to prove it. Had to. He just had to prove it.

"I am telling you the truth..."

Please, listen, Mother. You have to.

"It is me...Ratonhnhaké:ton..."

She could have stared at him for hours. Likely would have with little issue. Aside from the idea that doing such wouldn't bring her any closer to understanding. Why was this happening? What had happened? He was no child, yet she saw the same way he eyed her with the very same eyes that her son looked at her occasionally.

Ziio loved her son dearly.

But this frustrated her. There was no way for her to truly comprehend what was going on. Why was he... older? Her age. Had to have been. She was no lady of age, either.

"How." Confusion in her own eyes. Crumbling skepticism and doubt. Finally she moved to crouch, as if her way of closing some of the proverbial distance. And afterward, she lowered to the next branch to get a better look at him. "When I last saw you, you were a child. What is the meaning of this?"

Getting closer made him realize even more on how this was really happening. This was all real. He had to remind himself of it.

She looked confused. To be honest, so was he.

His brow furrowed as he looked to the ground for a second, piecing his thoughts.

"It is...hard to explain all at once," Connor said, fully aware that he WILL tell her everything. Here. There. About all of it. In due time. Right here, right now would be a long story too long to get into. But he had to give her something. "Many years have passed for me. This place is capable of...many things beyond comprehension. It is why I am here. It was not by my choice. But..."

He trailed. BUT WHAT.

Naturally, she didn't want him to tell her all at once. Not when she still had Jon's information circulating about her mind. She had a plethora of questions, anyway, and she knew she couldn't exactly handle hearing everything altogether.

"In due time," she replied to him, sounding more certain than she actually felt. While she wasn't questioning the validity of who he was, she was still unsure as to how and why and what her place was in everything. For now it seemed highly unlikely that it was a chance happening that had her stationed.

Another branch down until she leapt from the tree. Regaining a stiffer stance, she took many moments to eye him closely, lifting a hand so that he might know not to move closer to her. Her initiative was fine. His, however, not so much.

"Many years, indeed. Time has had its way with you, Ratonhnhaké:ton, and yet I still see some things that remind me of your youth."

Not... many, but some, and that was better than none. Although to be fair, Ziio had spent an extraordinary amount of moments simply matching his gaze with hers. Because it was there that she was looking for his father, to see if her fear had come to fruition. And after some silence set in, she finally lowered her hand, though her guard remained and by natural order of Ziio, it would stay.

"Very well. I accept what you say as truth." Reluctantly. And begrudgingly. Even without understanding it.

Connor dared not move closer. This was horrifying. When his father arrived, there was the horror of seeing the man who was slain and who had broken any ties he had with his son. Leaving Connor feeling guilt, regret, and among other things. But their relationship grew too sour. Sour enough for them to have fought that time, trying to kill each other. Connor used his hand and ended his own father's life, not by choice. Connor didn't want to do it, but if he hadn't...he sure would have died and the Templars would've won and that couldn't happen. Connor and Haytham reached another truce of sorts, foolishly enough. But their bond was like glass.

This was a different horror.

Connor missed her a lot. He never forgot her. He loved his mother. He saw her burning alive, turning him away as he tried to save her...Looking at him with sad eyes.

And then she was gone forever.

That same woman stood in front of him barely accepting what he was telling her. This didn't...feel like a happy reunion.

Connor felt he needed to continue.

"Yet so much has changed. You say you remember me from my youth," Connor said as he looked away for a moment.

How does he do this? This was all too hard to swallow to begin with.

"Yet that is when I remember you last also..."

She stood somewhat... awkwardly. It didn't start out in such a way, but when she heard him, there was a definite change in the way she carried herself. Not a softening, but certain some form of...

Well. One could have said she was stirred. Perhaps that was the best way to put it. And while one could have said their reunion was 'touching,' she felt a horrible sense of regret seep into her. Without knowing what it was truly there for.

Simply on his words alone.

He only remembered her from his youth. What could that even mean? Except in the same way that she'd known it was him when he pulled down his hood, she seemed to know enough what he meant. Like a truth she didn't want to look at. A reflection of reality that she didn't want to see. His reality.

And perhaps that was because she knew if what she thought it was... She couldn't do anything about it. Just because she was in front of him in the present...

Ziio looked aside momentarily. "...Yet this moment stands, as do we." Because she felt like she wasn't ready to hear what more he had to say on it. Not that she wasn't strong enough to handle it, because she was. But that because the fact of the matter was no matter happened in his past, it clearly wasn't the case for the present.

Connor got it, amazingly.

That was a different pain for a different time. Connor had no idea what to do at this point, where to begin.

I guess we were stuck here together so here's what I know? There are somethings you should know in the world? By the way, I'm an Assassin and I killed my father and all his friends. I left the village and was trained by Achilles. I fought in a war. The people of our village were chased mere months before I arrived.

And many, many more. But Connor refused to go near her death, not yet. Not yet. He implied it, and she seemed to get it...if she wasn't going to go there right now, then neither was he.

One angle though came up and became the most important, "You should then know. We all stand here. Including...my father."

There was not much expectation on Ziio's part. With time, she wanted to hear what was going on. But there was also conflict. Trying to determine if she was to take Jon's advice had somewhat taken a detour upon crossing paths with her son.

'Son.'

Except she knew very well that he was. If not for the stunningly similar features - the sculpting of his face and his eyes - then certainly by his tomahawk. And other various little things he kept about himself.

Eventually, she'd need him to tell her everything she had lost out on. Lost out. Because she hadn't been there. When he'd needed her, she wasn't there. And he had likely needed her a great deal. Having her in spirit wasn't the same as having her there in the flesh. A pang of anger sat in her over the very concept.

What had happened? Another time, she'd ask. Another day.

Her eyebrows knit together when she heard him and she looked over and simply stared. Haytham Kenway. A part of her past that still sat with her poorly. Her response was curt, and to the point.

"Stay away from that man." As if she even needed to tell him. But she had only just arrived. Suppose Connor had already carried about with him anyway. For any manner of moments together brought her insecurities a little closer to manifestation into reality. "If you have not up until now, then you will."

For she'd no plans of seeing any such thing occur.

That was all kinds of too late. Connor looked at her and wondered how she would accept him being here. Would she be shocked to see he had aged and not she? Haytham died a couple years back, Ziio much longer ago...she would look like his daughter.

Then again, he did just throw at her how much HE had grown.

It looked like in order for this to work, we had to go at baby steps.

"I know, Mother. I know who my father was. We have...crossed paths. Ideals," Connor can't do this now, but he HAD to.

She stiffened when she heard Connor's reply. And perhaps her expression painted her too obvious, because even with the way she tried to lean over and be intimidating, she wasn't really making much progress. Hard to be that authoritative when her son had outgrown her.

Literally. And figuratively. It made her idly wonder what was left for her.

"I see." Of course he did, with the way he was dressed. Again, that didn't escape her. She motioned to his robes and she nodded. Ziio had not forgotten the Brotherhood, or Achilles for that matter. They had never traveled too far from her mind. Odd, and yet strangely fitting to see her son following in like footsteps.

Not that she had been an assassin, for she hadn't.

"Keep your distance from him from now on."

Again. Connor really wondered how much she knew.

Also he...could maybe stand to be mothered. Some. Just because.

Also...again, he knew for a fact he couldn't avoid his Father. That was just impossible. As much as he was "distant", that was different from "avoiding".

"I know what he is capable of. You do not need to worry about me," Connor replied the fruitless. She was his mother and his father was his father, for goodness sake. They were just dysfunctional that way.

He wondered if he should say he's older now. Much older.

She did not need to, and yet she would anyway. The downside to having a son who was only four. Instead of the son before her who was very clearly not four. It was a very... complicated situation, one that she didn't necessarily know how she felt. She missed her son and still worried what would happen in her absence.

But could there really be two?

"How long have you been here?" she asked Connor, looking away from him to the landscape behind. The academy, she meant. She'd wanted to ask if there was a way to get back, but perhaps he'd already know that was on her mind.

First things, first.

"Several months...I cannot say that life here is easily settled especially sense it was forced...but."

Well okay, he was getting into something even harder.

He had issues wanting to go back for the passed few weeks. But Mother here? Now it just made it worse.

For the sheer purpose of wanting to be some keeper of justice. Protect those who needed it. Leaving here would be...premature. Leaving allies behind as well was also not easy. Some were even more than allies. But then there were those in the Homestead, his Brotherhood...his people. What were they doing? What was the young America doing?

...Ugh.

"...But I have been trying to find my place with the help of some allies, temporary a stay as it may. Then it got easier."

Edited 2013-06-15 04:19 (UTC)

As she watched and waited, she had to wonder idly if he had gotten to a point where he stopped trying to go back. She had no way of knowing what it was he faced, except the same realisation that she wouldn't be there for him. Contrary to her own life, where the Connor she knew would fret well enough once he discovered she was missing. As would the others.

And as she heard him, she seemed to think she wasn't too far off the mark. Although he had said his stay would be some form of temporary and that was how she felt as well.

"I see." She felt like she was saying that a lot. Because she wasn't sure what to say. Or what else to say. "It's good that you've not been alone." And she did earnestly feel that way, even in her own personal mess of emotions while she tried to take everything in.

Connor was running out of things to say right now as well. It wasn't coming to him. Every topic that came out, he didn't feel like discussing. For later. Later. We'll talk about it later.

Connor nodded his head. His brain stopped producing thoughts and the small boy started to wiggle inside.

That sounded like the most motherly thing he'd heard, he remembered hearing. He was sure that seemed like a motherly thing to say.

"I am especially not alone now, Mother," he blurted out.

He didn't care anymore. He did not. Care. Ziio, as small as she was compared to him was now locked in an embrace with her adult son.

"...I missed you."

In a way Ziio had expected it. But only in a distant, fleeting sort of way. How often had she held her son? Frequently, she supposed. She fixed his hair, set him about his day, for the most part she had always felt very close to him. Regardless of the past, of what Connor served to remind her of, she found herself only ever coming to adore him more with each passing day.

But saying as much or showing it in her face was a rare occurrence. Ziio was far more a subtle woman.

His embrace... That was not subtle by any means. Yet from the simple way he held her, it wasn't difficult to find that he had spent a good deal of time without her in his life. Not that Connor had clung - or the plans to - but simply that he'd made her absence to him well known, even without grand words.

"...I'm here now."

And though it may have felt slightly strange, her arms eventually came up to hold him, even with the way he slightly towered over her.

This felt really strange. But Connor didn't regret it. He really did wonder how close they would be at age. How old was she when she passed? They must be closer than he thought. By the smallest of years.

He let go, finally realizing what he did. Afraid once more of what she could be thinking of him.

Even after embracing his mother...being able to TALK to her after all these years...he was so sure he was happy. Happy. But...feeling intense remorse. The powers of this place to make this a reality. To make this happen.

It wasn't natural. Shouldn't. Not with his father either. He really wondered if the dead mattered at all here. Tomorrow he could see another that passed from his past, present, or his future.

The nerve of this place. The damn nerve.

Finally though, he decided to switch to English again. "Sorry..."

Her own thoughts weren't so different from his. On a different level, naturally. When he withdrew, she took many moments to remain in silence. The sensation had been odd and unfamiliar to her. There was a kinship to her embraces with Haytham, but a distinctly...

It wasn't the same.

Ziio had never felt much fear for herself, yet at the same time, Connor held security about him. And she'd expected that.

"You are my son," she replied in kind, her English as it ever was. "That was not weakness you showed me," was motherly reassurance. "When you were younger, we did."

A long past for him, yet something somewhat recent for her. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

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In this community, I spam words.

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