Sing Me A Song
Rated: T
Paring/s: AltMal
Summary: Drabbles
Genre: Depends on the drabble...
The Sky is Falling
Altair stared at the sky vacantly. He lay flat on his back, staring ruefully at the endless stretch of blue. He felt as though he was falling into it. The eagle closed his eyes, sickened.
After learning so much from that damned Apple, Altair could help but wonder, why. What was the purpose of life? Was there any meaning in it at all? It was so fleeting. And when you die...then what? He felt to beginnings of fear gripping at his subconscious.
So lost in his musings, the assassin failed to hear the sound of approaching footsteps. He opened his honey eyes as he felt two soft lips against his own, and suddenly remembered why he was alive.
For Sure
Altair swung into the bureau, landing skillfully on the cushion and darting into the main room. Ignoring Malik's surprised look the assassin yanked him out from behind the desk and tossed him over his shoulder unceremoniously.
"Altair?"
The eagle scrambled up the wall; setting Malik gently in his feet once they reached the rooftops.
"Was there a point and purpose to your madness?" the Dai grumped.
Altair simply awarded him with a dazzling grin, bronzed skin glowing in the bright sun.
Malik suddenly forgot how much he hated Altair and allowed a small smile to decorate his features.
That is, until a raindrop fell onto Altair's nose, then a full blown grin broke out on the rafiq's face.
Runaway
Altair had never been one to run. But seeing Malik's accusing, no...betrayed looks, and Al Maulim's disapproving glare, hearing his brother's barely concealed whispers. Never had he been so tempted.
But Altair was not a man to run. He accepted his punishments. He accepted the cruel whispers. And he accepted Malik's hate, as painful as it was. No, Altair Ibn La-Ahad was not one to run.
Awake
"You are leaving?" Malik asked from the bed, sleepily looking up at his partner.
The taller man looked down at him, as he straightened his robes, "I have a target to eliminate..."
'Excuses,' the Dai's mind told him.
Malik never asked him to remain when Altair left. The man was an eagle, independent and flighty. The rafiq understood that, and tolerated it. But no longer, he reached out his hand and yanked the assassin down, "I am no fool, Altair. The target will not be accessible until evening."
Altair blinked and hesitantly slipped an arm around the mapmaker's waist.
Malik chuckled and swiftly sent a small barb at him, "A remarkable change considering how bold you were last night, Altair."
The eagle frowned, miffed.
Savin' Me
Altair scowled at the nest perched half hazardly at the edge of his view point. Never had a day been this hot in Jerusalem. He leaned his back against the wall of the tower and eyed the nest. Three eggs, three baby eagles.
Altair suddenly felt so very alone. He looked over the city ruefully, pondering his crazy excuse for a life. He had no real home to speak of. No beautiful wife or rowdy children to love. No job, no money. He slept in haystacks, stole his meals. He wondered if there was anyone he could truly trust.
The eagle suddenly lost its gift to fly, plummeting towards a quick and messy death. Hazel eyes landed on a small building far to the north. And suddenly he could fly again. Yes...he had just what he needed there, despite the withering glares and halfhearted barbs. Yes, he had someone to come home to, someone to trust completely.
How Far We've Come
'Altair has officially lost his mind,' the Dai nodded to himself sagely.
The idiot was raving about the end of world, slamming his fists in the walls complaining about how unsatisfied he was and how there was so much more he wanted to do.
"Then do it and stop tearing apart my bureau, you fool," Malik snapped.
Altair gave him a long, calculating stare before jumping up on the counter and slamming his lips against Malik's.
The Dai resolved to cure Altair's madness. He wasn't quite ready for the Apocalypse either.
Breath
Altair turned from Malik's cold gaze, and even colder words. He knew better than to ask forgiveness. He had yet to earn it. He pulled himself out of the bureau, only when he proved himself would he see the fire return to Malik's eyes. That crucial spark that separated Malik from every other assassin.
He would kill any target. He would fight a hundred Templar's, if only to get Malik to look AT him. Not beyond him, or through him. But at him, in that special way the made the assassin completely breathless.
Wake Up, Open the Door, and Escape to the Sea
They acted civil. They played their parts. The pretended that everything was fine. It was as though nothing happened. Nothing was broken.
Clever, sharp, Malik.
Strong, skilled, Altair.
They were good at their act. So very good at it.
Were it not for the cold fury in the Dai's dark eyes.
And the silent, regret in the assassin's.
No one would have known.
Turn Back Time
The assassin looked down at his hand. A small scar decorated it. A reminder of his spectacular mistake that cost his best friend everything.
He closed his eyes, wishing to whatever merciful god there was that he could go back and re-do everything.
He knew nothing would change, regardless of his prayers. Malik would never get his arm back. Kadar would never open his eyes again. And Altair would never enjoy the warmth of Malik's smile ever again or the naive worship in Kadar's eyes.
He dived off the platform and into the haystack waiting patiently below.
He knew he would never have Malik's friendship again, but he could watch, quietly from the shadows. He could kill and protect. It was the one thing he could do for the rafiq. Even if the man never learned of it.
I Hate Everything About You
Malik's quill furiously flew across the map he was making, skillfully marking hiding places, and view points in flawless circles and lines. To any passerby, he simply looked like a scholar, calmly working on a map. But inside the Dai was raging. A torrent of conflicting emotions. He dipped the quill back into the ink and set the page aside, instead grabbing a thick book and looking up from the table at a large bird perched on a beam. He took up his quill and started to sketch its likeness.
The brunette's mind wandered to a certain assassin as he sketched the bird's eyes. He clenched his jaw, mind still in shambles. Every time he saw the infuriating bastard he didn't know whether to slam him against the wall or run him through with a dagger.
He snarled as a shadow fell over his sketch.
"I didn't know you could draw..." A deep voice murmured, as a hand enclosed over his to hold the drawing in place, "...it looks good."
"What is it you want, Altair?" The rafiq snapped, pulling his hand away.
The assassin took a seat next to him on the bench, "Aside from that drawing? I have finished my investigation."
Malik gave him a sideways glance, "And what have you learned?"
The younger rattled off some information regarding when and where Talal's guards will be when the slave driver was inspecting his stock. Malik hardly paid any attention, choosing instead to observe his brother's features.
Altair was a handsome man, he allowed. Strong jaw, straight nose, white teeth and sharp, honey eyes. He shook his head, this man cost him his life.
He passed Altair a pristine, white feather, "Get out of my sight, novice."
The eagle gave him a surprised look before wordlessly taking the plume, allowing his hand to brush against the brunettes for the briefest of seconds before taking his leave. "Safety and peace, Malik..." He said quietly, over his shoulder.
The Dai ignored him and looked back up at the eagle perched on the rafters, "Handsome, indeed..." He snorted.