MHC: Hello! I come before you today with a fanfiction based on the totally awesome video-game Assassin's Creed. This is just a little centric on my personal favorite part of the game. What is it you ask? You'll just have to find out! (The title is a dead giveaway though.)
Please enjoy!
Freedom and Faith
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The hustle and bustle of the Jerusalem streets was as repetitive as it always had been in the days long past. He listened quietly as merchants advertised their wares and a preacher voiced his beliefs. Altaïr's already thin interest gave out as he turned without another thought; approaching the view point he would've climbed earlier had he not stopped to admire the beauty of the city about him. Carelessly, he stepped over the corpse of the guard he had assassinated moments before, to avoid any trouble, and continued his smooth strides to the tower.
Altaïr paused at the base of the tower, searching it up for grip-holds and crevices, and in one quick motion, he grabbed onto a stone sticking out of the wall. With little effort, he pulled himself up and gripped onto an over-sized crack and hoisted himself up further. Having scaled hundreds of things like this in his lifetime, Altaïr was brimming with experience and every climb was like a quick stroll in the city plaza—widespread and swift. The chatter of the streets below faded into the lonely wind as Altaïr became lost in his resolute focus.
Within minutes, Altaïr was already at the top of the view point, and the eagle perched on the wooden beam, having felt his presence, flew off without a sound. The competent assassin paused to watch the majestic bird soar into the sky before lifting himself onto the beam. Keeping his balance practically perfect, he inched toward the edge; surveying his surroundings with eyes not unlike the eagle's perched there seconds before.
Altaïr couldn't help but stare in awe at the exquisiteness of the mid-day Jerusalem. The sun was at it's highest in the sky, reflecting light off the cross on the church several kilometers away and gleaming beautifully upon the towers about him. The eagle from before flew a graceful round about the tower, only adding more to admire.
After everything he's been through, Altaïr finds himself never getting tired of three things: the thrill he gets from a successful assassination, the few moments to survey and admire the beauty of an area below him, and the few seconds of freedom and adrenaline as he performs a free-fall to end all free-falls. No, these things never tend to fall lethargic in his conscious.
And so began his favorite part.
Taking a deep breath, Altaïr cautiously stood; feeling the breeze winnowing his cloak as the ambience of the sun shone down even brighter than before. With dead-set eyes, the pair you would only find with a true assassin, he glared instinctively at the wagon of hay several stories below. Without a waver in his vision, and the slighted bit of vigor, he pushed off.
The distant cry of an eagle rang through his head as Altaïr spread his arms. He basked in the feeling of the wind whipping against his face and the world passing as a timeless blur while he plummeted closer and closer to the earth. Time seemed to slow and Altaïr could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins while his heart rate practically sky-rocketed. As the climax neared its peak, by force of habit, he tilted his body forewords; twisting almost cat-like in mid-air and let his body go limp.
Altaïr neared the end of his fall, his last glimpses of freedom included the clear Arabic skies and the eagle flying over it; eclipsing the sun for a split second.
The imperative rooftops of houses and other structures invaded his vision, and the sounds of the busy streets returned, signaling the end of his fall. Within milliseconds, his back was met with a soft (and slightly pointy) bound of hay and it sucked him in as if commanded to.
Altaïr laid there for a moment, eyes closed, body still lax; listening to the slightly muffled sounds of pedestrians conversing, the all-too familiar preacher bellowing a speech, a new founded beggar imploring the city-dwellers for money and the soft "chinks" of metal as guards made their daily rounds. Altaïr sighed.
He liked it far better up on the view point.
The assassin shifted slightly, feeling the gentle prickle of hay through his clothes, and sat up. Still dazed from the after-shock of his high, Altaïr ineptly rolled out of the hay cart; wavering slightly when he got to his feet, he clutched the wood of the wagon for balance. When he finally regained his composure, he looked up at the tower he plunged off of to see the sun-dusted silhouette of the eagle perched on the beam. Altaïr smiled to himself.
Another Leap of Faith wouldn't hurt…
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MHC: Well, there it is. The Leap of Faith, as told by yours truly! I would just like to take the time to thank my thesaurus for providing me with awesome words, my snack-food for keeping the creative flow going without leaving my computer and Ubisoft for making this spectacular game. Oh! And Altaïr. Be cause he's… well… drop dead sexy!
Please leave a review 'cause if you don't Altaïr will shank you. (That goes for flamers and netspeakers so no mean thoughts or "lol ur fanfic rox im guna fave it".)
I hope you all liked it!
Safety and peace,
-Hannah