Disclaimer: Don't own.
Opening Notes: Canon-ly accurate? Ha!
First Kill
Breathe.
Breathe.
His heavy breaths echoed throughout the chamber, obscenely loud in the quiet room.
Breathe.
Blood was everywhere. His robes, once so white, were now crimson with the blood of the man lying face-down on the floor. His hands were sticky with the stuff, his hidden blade, normally so well-oiled and smooth, stuck as he tried to return it to its customary place. The blood was clotting inside the mechanism, slowing the gears.
Breathe.
He was not a very religious man. He preferred not to think to much about an 'great after', especially in his line of work. But he'd just taken a man's life – a man who, he knew, had a family, a livelihood, a life. People who would mourn him, and people who would be worse off for his loss.
But those who would benefit from his absence outnumbered those. And that made his sacrifice necessary.
A deep breath. Yes, he'd done the right thing. This man's death would help bring the world closer to the Peace that he fought for.
But if that were so, why did he still feel so sick?
"Do not worry, Altaïr." The master had said, "Your first kill is always the hardest, but it will grow easier, with time."
The master was right, he was sure. The older assassin's went about their work with such ease… it must be true. He just had to get past this.
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End
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Closing Notes: Like this one a bit better than the last one. Still not terribly fond. But, we're starting to get more into the habit of writing daily. Now we just need to start writing WELL. I really can't just spit them out, can I... (sighs)