AN: This is really short because I couldn't re-find the prompt for it. It was something about Id, Ego, and Super-ego Altaïr on the AC Kink Meme...? So this is what I had sitting around, never posting it because it never really got anywhere. I do intend to work more on it, but as a back-burner project that'll probably run amok. If anyone got any ideas, drop me a line!
Critiques are loved~
I
Too much contact with the apple was dangerous - he knew, as Malik had told him time and time again that prolonged contact begged for disaster. But Altaïr was a prideful man and was never one to listen, especially not to Malik.
When his world stopped moving, his mind stopped swimming, and his vision rose from black, Altaïr would only wish he had listened to his friend, if he could but wish.
II
The satchel Malik had been toting in crashed to the floor, inks spilling from their shattered vessels and draining swiftly into still fresh bread and sweet dried dates. Where once surely only one of the Assassins in his bureau must have stood now towered three, each a reflection of the other with the Apple between them. Malik wished he could be back in the markt, still finding dinner and supplies, the worst of his worries being the price of his quills or the quality of the oil.
No.
This wasn't happening.
That fucking novice hadn't done this.
Malik was just dreaming, suffering full blown somnambulism if the residual heat in his skin was anything to go by. After all, one didn't just triplicate themselves in a half hour, and one most assuredly did not leer at their once-best-friend like that.
Three novices.
What the fuck was Malik supposed to do with three Altaïrs?