Amaria was was under the shade of a tree, writing in a leather bound journal. Her quill moved swiftly across the pages and she hardly took a moment to think, it was just words being spilled out onto the white parchment. But something struck her... an idea... something made her pause and she looked up form her journal in thought, only to see Altair to the side of her. She blinked in surprise. "Altair." She said and then studied him. Her eyes widened as she saw the blood on his white robes. "You're hurt." She put her journal and quill aside and stood up.

Altair nodded and sank to the bench, closing his eyes. "I just... need a place... to rest," he said around heavy breaths. He kept his hand over the wound. It really wasn't too bad, he had just gotten clipped, but he didn't want to scare her with the blood.

"That's fine.. just.. rest here." Amaria said and looked to him. "Let me get you something to drink, something cooling." She walked into the palace and moments later came out with chilled tea as well as some water. It had been her excuse that she was getting dehydrated in the heat. "Here." She said, placing both on the bench.

Altair looked up at her and smiled a bit. "Thank you," he said quietly. He took the water and downed it quickly before leaned back against the wall. After a long moment, he looked up at her again, his hood falling half back. "You wouldn't happen to... do that sewing thing with the pictures, would you?"

"Of course I do." Amaria said. "Woman. Remember? Not much that considered an appropriate past time, but stitching certainly is." She knew what he wanted. "Let me go get my things." She said and walked back into the palace. It only took a few moments, but she came back out holding a small basket. "Shall I stitch you up?"

Altair shook his head. "I can do it," he said. "You don't need blood on your hands. Just get me a needle. And a rag, if you've got one." He stood up and started unlatching the leather straps that held his weapons on.

Amaria shook her head. "I do not care about blood. You seem to think of me as normal." She said, preparing the needle and thread and taking out a rag. "Now... do you want me to stitch in a design?" She tried to lighten the mood. "How about a nice flower?... I'm joking. Really."

Altair blinked at her and smiled crookedly. "Thanks," he said. "But let me. Really." He pulled his cloak over his head and tossed it on the bench before going to the fountain and scooping up some water to wash the blood out of the way.

Amaria shrugged and set the prepared needle down. She watched him wash away the blood and couldn't help but notice his form. He was perfectly muscular and she had to look down at the ground for a moment to stop herself from staring. "Are you sure that you're alright?" She asked, having noticed the slice.

Altair nodded, glancing up at her. "I'll be alright," he said. "It's not too bad." Once he had it cleaned suffiently, he grabbed the needle and started stitching himself up. It was only about three inches across, and slim. Not a big deal. The assassin didn't even bother to sit down, or wince at what he was doing.

Amaria watched him stitch himself up and she was amazed, fascinated by it. She was never allowed to see such things, but this was interesting the way that his skin came together with the needle and thread like cloth would. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Altair glanced up at her, then quickly finished the last stitch before shaking his head. "No not really," he said, tying off a knot. "Used to it, I guess."

Amaria shrugged, but still watched him. "I would think that would hurt a lot, but then again I am not used to such things." She said. "Forgive me for staring, but I've never seen someone stitch up a wound like that before."

Altair chuckled and shook his head. "I don't mind," he said. He quickly washed off the needle and handed it back to her. He thought for a moment before lifting up his arm. "Want to see better?"

Amaria put the needle back into the basket and nodded, grinning. "Yes." She said, standing up. "You have better then that?"