A short drabble of silliness. I only own this specific construction of words- the rest belongs to Ubisoft.

Dilated

Sometimes, when Altair woke from a blow to the head to see the other hovering over him, he could swear Malik had a pair of wings at his back. He would look into the others eyes and for that moment, he could not determine the other's intent- did he mean to save him or kill him? And he was reminded of the seraphim of the Christians. He then proceeded to wonder if, perhaps, people like Malik were the inspiration for the mythical beings- beautiful, intelligent, kind, but capable of destroying opponents and protecting what they value.

He hadn't had much of an opportunity to think since Al Mualim's betrayal, and most of his thoughts had centered around the apple since, it was only now, watching Malik stare down the sunset that he remembered each and everyone of his fevered thoughts about the man and his wings. Perhaps Malik would have been better off with a pair of glittering wings at his back instead of Altair at his side- they might have saved his arm, or- but such thoughts were pointless. Men were not born with feathered appendages intended for flight and Malik didn't do well with heights.

"Quite staring at me, novice."

"But it's such a nice view."

"Funny."

"Mal-"

"Don't. What were you thinking about? That damned Piece of Eden?"

"No."

"Then what has you distracted like a fool?"

"You."

"Your humor slays me. What are you hiding?"

"Nothing."

Malik walks up to him and glares, even as he lays a hand on a stiff shoulder. Altair attempts to disengage, but his attempts fail as the grip strengthens and refuses to move.

"Altair."

"You haven't called me that in a while."

"What?"

"It's always novice."

"Not always."

"Mostly."

"Now you're just sulking."

"It's in my nature."

"It's also in your nature to be exceedingly annoying, that doesn't mean I can't hit you. Now, what has you brooding like some lovesick fool?"

"I'm not sure. I just don't know what to do with myself."

"Ah, there are no men to kill, no damsels to save, what are you to do?"

"It's not that. I- so much has changed, and yet nothing has. I've been the one changing, and now, it doesn't feel the same. I'm not sure quite how to deal with that."

"That's life, Altair, learn to live with it."

They sat in silence for a long period, just listening to the leaves rustle in the wind like chimes, the women talk in their high-pitched, carefree voices, and the novices, the true novices, training. Altair felt, in his soul, that he would always be a novice to Malik, regardless of his title in the brotherhood.

"We need a new leader, Altair. Should we call the elders to a vote?"

"I suppose. There was no planning for this, it would be best."

"I'll send the pigeons."

"Before you go, Malik, do you believe in angels?"

"Is that what you were thinking of?"

"It's stupid, I know, but I just couldn't shake the image."

"Are you sure you aren't turning into a man of god on me, Altair?"

"I'm not, I assure you. It is not the Christian's god that has me thinking."

"Good, saves me from beating you."

"And for that, I am eternally grateful."

"I'm leaving you to send the pigeons alone for that, you ass."

"But they hate me."

"They're pigeons, get over it."

"Fine."

Yeah, Altair thought, Malik just might be an angel. But not one of music and joy and giving, but one full of shining vengeance for the wicked. And a distinct dislike for Altair's sarcasm. Even if he wasn't really an angel, he would always be one to Altair, and maybe, that was all that mattered.

If you can review, it'd be awesome. You probably have no idea how much it makes my day. Granted, so do favs, but I'd like to know why you liked it. So I can improve and maybe, just maybe, add on to it. If not, it'll help me write something new or finish something old.

So that's my sales pitch. Either way, thanks for reading.

- Kirrae