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Chapter 12
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He searches the night canvas for the one star. Amidst the millions of glittering diamonds, tawny amber easily finds the one star that he was named after.
Although many years have passed, he can still faintly remember the scent of his mother, and warmth of her arms as she held him and pointed at the night sky.
That is your star, Altair. Look up and find it when you have lost your way. It will always be there, waiting for you and listening to life's troubles.
He had believed her whole-heartedly back then. Before she sent him away and he never saw her or his father again. That is the way of the Creed. He could not have been older than four. When they passed away, they were already strangers to him, and Al Mualim became the only family he knew.
Altair leans back on the rooftop, and closes his eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he prepares for a long, sleepless night, until an amused drawl beckons from below.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of having your presence on my roof?" Malik's sardonic voice drifts from the open window.
"I am considering whether I will sleep here tonight," Altair replies evenly. The other man scoffs. "You can always come inside. You never needed my permission for anything,"
"I am aware of that." His answer is disinterested. Almost apologizing so. Malik straightens. This is not how their usual banter comes to pass.
"Something troubles you," he immediately deduces, "speak, and do not bother denying it."
A deep chuckle arises from above. "Do you think the stars are always watching us my dear friend?"
Oh, so a philosophical diversion. Admirable effort my friend, but I know you too well.
"Perhaps, but they cannot be watching one person all the time. Like how we cannot keep our eyes on just one star," Malik answers as he leans against the sill of the window, "And one person cannot hope to constantly watch another."
A heavy sigh into the night air. "So you heard about today's incident."
"Yes, it hardly is possible not to when word spreads of your return and you did not report to me. Let me assure you that I did not encourage her to seek out training. She did so of her own accord, and despite my efforts in dissuading her, she persisted."
"I can imagine," Altair comments dryly.
"She is quite a handful, that one. You pick your women well Altair." Malik's crippling sarcasm, once directed towards him with bigotry, is now lighthearted teasing.
Finally, a real laugh comes out of his mouth. "Hardly."
The younger assassin lets himself in by the window. Malik nods in greeting, and gestures to the low table sitting amongst the lush carpets and pillows. Both men seat themselves and begin pouring drinks.
"There will be time in the morning to tell me of the events on Cyprus. For tonight, please share your troubled thoughts Brother."
"I had a… minor disagreement with Jin. The matter will solve itself in due time,"
Altair shrugs, and takes a gentle sip of the wine. "More importantly, I have this uneasy feeling regarding the Piece of Eden. Questions find me at every corner and with not enough answers. I am at a loss."
The older Dai observes him quietly. The stiffness of his shoulders, and the furrow between his brows belies his nonchalant attitude. But if Altair does not feel the need to confide in him, then what is the use of pursuing a dead end?
"I need the truth. The Apple offers so much, and yet nothing. I know it is a weapon that should be destroyed, but-"
"But you cannot bear to before you come to the answers you seek," Malik grimly finishes for him. "Yes, I know your way of thinking all too well."
Altair's words are genuine and sincere, tinged with rare warmth. "Thank you, Malik."
"Why not just isolate yourself and devote every waking hour to learning the secrets of this relic? There is no pressing need for you to resume your responsibilities as the leader of this organization. The Brotherhood obviously does not need your counsel and presence," the older man adds on off-handedly.
"Have I ever praised your wit and humor dear friend?"
"Not likely. Come, sing my praises. I never tire of it."
"You are right. I have been neglecting my duties as of late. The Piece of Eden and my personal research can wait. Tomorrow, we shall talk of situation with the Templars and I need you to show me what I missed since I was gone," Altair ruefully admits.
"Prudent decision. I drink to your health, O' Wise One," Malik raises his cup in a mock gesture. Altair returns the toast, grinning slyly as he says, "I am sincerely glad I have earned your approval."
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Her days are overflowing to the brim with assignments. In the morning, Jin rises to attend to the stables and has her usual run with her favorite mare. After a brief breakfast, she meets with Abra, a Sister assigned by Yasmin, to learn her letters and how to read maps. Right before lunch, she goes and trains in the courtyard with her instructor, and during lunchtime, she finds Master Shafiq and observes him quietly as he goes through his routine. She helps out in whichever way possible, and the sun usually sets before she is finished.
It is in the evening, after dinner, when Jin seeks out Yasmin. By the time her "teacher" is done with her, Jin is, more often than not, completely exhausted. She does not even bother with clothing, and regularly dives into her bed, sound asleep before her head hits the pillow.
Even still, she is painfully aware of Altair's absence. He has not shown himself to her since the incident. Not even a shadow of a shadow.
She is certain he is avoiding her. And if she dreams of his rich voice whispering to her, or sense his touch, lightly brushing hair from her face, she tells herself it is only a dream, and nothing more.
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The filly tosses her head in wild abandon. Her shining black mane whips to and fro. Her blazing eyes, full of spirit, issue a silent challenge to the uneasy crowd of novices. The surrounding men inadvertently take a step back from her thunderous hooves.
Let us start with the five senses of the body. There is touch, scent, sound, taste, and most importantly sight. The last one is the most prevalent, and therefore we will dedicate much time on that one.
"She has so much fire, that one. Well-bred and destined to be as fast as lightning, but she has refused the saddle, and bucks off any who dares to ride her. Are you sure Master? " the young handler asks him apprehensively. He does not bother to answer.
Walk and sit with your back straight. This way it displays your body in the most flattering manner. When sitting, always point your feet to make your legs appear longer. Like so.
Movements of the body should be like works of art. The sway of your hips are likened to music, and the curve of your arm will be poetry. Tease him, drive him insane with thoughts of your body.
Instead, he strides confidently towards the awaiting horse. Self-assurance radiates off of his as he coaxes the filly to look at him. When she does, she instantly stops fidgeting.
He murmurs in soft whispers, and her ears prick up in attention. He exhales a breath, letting the filly become familiar with his scent. His hands glide soothingly through her mahogany hide in reassurance.
Always have a smile. Demure and subtle. Never too wide, and no teeth.
Never raise your voice. Women who speak with an accent or a melodious lilt are exotic and interesting. At least you are able to sound timid and shy. Just watch those profanities you tend to make.
Take the time to bath in rose-scented water. And rub scented oils onto your skin so the nasty smells of horses and whatever you play around with does not follow you.
The bridle, along with the bit, slides on before she knows what is happening. Before she can fully react, he jumps onto her back. Immediately, her nostrils flare in anger, and her eyes roll back to show white. Her whole body quivers, and he can feel the muscles bunching underneath him. Ready to shake him off.
We women never fight battles head-to-head. The same idea goes with our eyes. Let them do the talking for you. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and so we almost never allow him to look into them directly. Remember to tilt your head down and look up at him with coy glances. Peer from underneath your lashes. Lower them when he returns your gaze, and smile innocently. This builds up anticipation, and when the moment is ripe, then look upon him straight out, with your eyes shining with desire.
The wind roars in his ears as she bolts. The landscape rushes by in a dizzying speed. But he holds on to the reins tightly. He matches his body to her movements. And for a moment, it feels like flying.
Women appear to be mysterious creatures to men. Men walk in straight lines. Clear-cut and simple. We, on the other hand, can travel down a curvy road full of turns and spirals. Never let him know everything there is to you, for the moment you do, he will grow weary of you and move on.
Eventually, the filly tires. Her furious pace slackens, but he does not pull harshly on the reins. Better to let her think she still has some semblance of control. Horses, just like people, have a distinct sense of pride and dignity. To conquer her means crushing her spirit, and he will have none of that. It will just render everything meaningless.
Lead him while following. Allow him to take your hand while it is you holding onto him. Men have an unnecessary amount of pride and ego. Feed that need. This is an art, my dear, that requires finesse and subtlety. It takes much sacrifice to ensnare a heart, but at least with my teachings, you can have his mind and body. Afterwards, it will be up to you.
He guides her solely with the slight pressure of his legs back to the crowd back at the stables. Amidst the admiring glances of novices and knowing looks from elders, Altair dismounts the now passive filly. She stands still, foam speckling her coat and her breaths coming in heavy.
He walks up to her, and strokes her face tenderly. He notes to his satisfaction there is still that fiery spark in her eyes. However, his gaze hardens into bronze topaz as he makes his message clear.
"You are mine."
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"You want me to do what?"
"Kiss me."
Jin gawks at her mentor, speechless. Yasmin brushes off her incredulous staring. "If you do intend please your man, how did you plan to go about it but with provocative touches?"
Pink blush springing from her cheeks, Jin mumbles a reply.
"Oh Jin. You are so peculiar," Yasmin giggles at her, "Of course you are going to do that. And more. We have covered all the five senses but one. And this requires hands-on learning."
Jin tries to stifle a cry as the other girl moves closer to her. Without hesitation, Yasmin cups her face with one hand and leans in.
"W-wait!"
"Habibi, it is either me or another man. Would you be even willing to touch another with your nymph-like manner, let alone have his early death sentence resting on your conscience?" sighs Yasmin, who does not move an inch. When Jin stays silent, she murmurs triumphantly, "I thought not."
Yasmin brings their faces ever so closer. No more than a hair's breadth away. Jin clamps her eyes shut. She can feel the soft fan of Yasmin's breath on her face, and smells the scent of her flowery perfume. A feather light brush on her lips. Her fists clench.
No… not like this! A voice in her head shouts.
At that moment, a derisive voice interrupts them.
"Forgive me for the intrusion," Malik takes in the scene from the entrance with the briefest of glances, "But I need to speak with Jinan." When Yasmin does not make an effort to release Jin, he adds scathingly, "Now."
Grateful for the distraction, the blonde girl hastily slips out of Yasmin's reach. Jin cannot walk fast enough towards Malik. Yet, as she approaches closer, she recalls her previous lessons.
She slows down. Takes smaller steps and keeps her eyes lowered. Jin is well aware that her teacher is watching closely, and in order to please her as well as satisfying her own curiosity, she bows her head slightly to the man in front of her.
"Yes?" she murmurs, careful to keep her voice level and soft.
Malik regards her warily for a few moments. He does not know what to think as he enters the room and comes across the two girls in such a scandalous position. And now, the fiery and unruly lioness is actually acting like a meek, harmless kitten.
"I have a mission for you."
Surprise flits across her delicate features, but is quickly suppressed.
"A mission sir?" Jin inquires in a most polite manner. Green forest glances up at him timidly through kohl-colored lashes. Malik pauses, and suddenly clears his throat. "Yes, well since you are at the novice-level training, you are eligible to receive missions at my discretion. And I say there is no time to waste. Are you willing to accept?"
"Of course. How may I be of service?" Jin tilts her head in question. The corners of her mouth lifts slowly to form a smile, drawing the older man's line of vision.
"Altair has locked himself up in the basement study with nothing but books and more books. Originally, it was his idea to use the room for studying and personal research. But lately the novice who's been delivering his food has been sent back and I do believe he has gone three days and nights without nourishment. I have already tried to advising him in renouncing the foolish endeavor, but he refuses to see reason," Malik finishes. Pointedly not making anymore eye contact and staring at the space above her head.
"I see," Jin mutters in her normal voice, "so you want to send me as a form of persuasion. I am nothing more than a tool for you. Is that right?"
Malik almost smirks. That is the familiar Jin he knows. He opens his mouth to retort, but is cut off by Yasmin, who has been listening attentively.
"Jin! Do you not see what is in front of you? An opportunity this is! The perfect chance for you to put all that you have learned to practice!" she gushes. Jin groans and covers her face with one hand.
"Careful! We do not want to smudge an hour's worth of work. Especially now that you will be needing it. Come!" Yasmin clasps both hands on Jin's shoulders and literally drags her towards the changing room. She turns to Malik with a wink and says, "You can just leave it to me. We will have him out quicker than a cobra's strike."
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The clinking of the earthenware echoes too loudly within the tunnels of the basement. Jin tries her hardest to steady her hands, but they will not stop shaking. Whether it is out of apprehension or anticipation, she does not know.
She takes a quick peek behind her. The doorway in which she enters frames the two silhouettes of Yasmin and Malik. Their faces are shrouded within shadows, but Jin knows Yasmin's expression is of pure excitement while Malik's features are etched in stony severity.
Jin pushes herself to continue walking forward. She takes in the long, shadowy hallway with nervousness. Wax candles, burning for long periods of time, light the way at brief intervals. At every ten paces there is a branch-off, connecting hallways that lead to infinite darkness. There is no ending in sight.
Malik told her to continue forward until the last door. Now that she is standing in front of it, she takes a few minutes to collect herself. She has no inkling of what his reaction will be. Will he still be angry? Silent and aloof?
Even if she does succeed in convincing him, what will she do then? Her recent conversation with Yasmin resurfaces.
"Of course you will take him to bed," the younger girl sighed exasperatedly, "Is it not what we have been working towards this entire time?"Once she was done stripping Jin out of her normal, baggy clothing, she moved onto the underclothes.
"Out of wedlock? My parents will turn in their graves. Besides, my mission only requires me to persuade him to eat, Malik did not say anything about having to sleep with him," exclaimed Jin. She winced as Yasmin tightened her wrappings a bit too roughly.
Yasmin swung her around. Her dark eyes bore fiercely into hers.
"Mark my words Jinan. Do not take this opportunity lightly. An assassin's life is short and bittersweet. To fall in love with one and actually see him live long enough to marry is near impossible. If you are willing to forge becoming his lover because of some prudish ideology, then you are not the woman I thought you are."
Jin braces herself. Pushes open the heavy door and enters.
A single golden glow emanates from the desk on the far end of the room. Books, heavy dusty tomes smelling of mold and rolls of manuscripts litter the entire floor. Some even piling up into miniature mountains against the walls.
Sitting at the lone desk, with his back to her, is Altair. He is dressed in his usual assassin garb, and is hunching over some papers. The sounds of a quill pen in a furious scribble in the otherwise quiet room reaches her ears. He is utterly absorbed in his task.
Jin whispers his name. He does not respond.
She walks over. Sets the tray of food and drink down gently.
"Altair," she greets softly.
A slight pause in his writing. That is all that he acknowledge her presence with.
Jin bristles slightly. Closes her eyes and reminds herself to be patient. As her teacher would say, a woman will always have an ever-flowing well of patience, and hers is not even close to being dry.
Altair is mumbling something. She leans in closer to hear.
"Messages in a bottle? Tools left behind to aid and guide us? Or do we fight for control over their refuse, giving divine purpose and meaning to little more than discarded toys?"
His mutterings are nonsensical to her. But now up close, she can see the heavy shadows around his eyes. His face is pale and sunken, a testament to long sleepless nights, not to mention malnutrition. Her heart clenches at the sight.
Determined, she slowly, lightly places her hand on his wrist. Effectively stopping him from writing further. "Altair, you need to get some rest."
He blinks. Sighs heavily. His face slowly turns toward her. Even though he is lacking sleep, his eyes are still alert and observant as he takes in the sight of her.
Jin has her hair down. The blonde locks frame around her face delicately. That one strand resting against her forehead makes him want to reach over and brush it back. She is clothed in a shimmering material that is hugging her curves in a most delicious fashion. Her eyes are lined in kohl, and her cheeks are abloom with coral. Or perhaps that is just her natural color, as he knows she blushes so beautifully.
But it is her mouth that his attention finally rests on. Those soft, rose-like petals slightly apart in a sensual invitation.
He swallows hard. And then refocuses.
His face is empty of emotion, slack and distant as he declares, "Leave me be."
Emerald jade hardens at his dismissal. "No, not until you stop this foolishness. You are over-exerting yourself to death," and remembering Yasmin's advice, Jin smiles encouragingly as she adds, "Please do help yourself to the provisions I have brought."
Glowing amber meets her gaze suspiciously. "Why are you here?"
"Where else would I be? I am here because I am worried about you."
"Why are you not training? Riding horses like a boy?" His derisive tone is evident even though his voice is dry and hoarse from disuse.
Jin starts setting out the plates of bread and soup in front of him. She replies lightly, keeping in mind of their previous argument, "I am temporarily taking a break from those activities. Besides, why would I need to participate in those sorts of activities if I am well-sheltered and protected within the fortress? Please, have a taste of the soup before it gets cold."
"I have no interest in food."
"Then may I offer some other form of distraction?" The flirtatious words are out before she can help it. Jin inwardly cringes. These words are not her own. They are what Yasmin wants to hear, and what other choice does she have but to trust the other girl?
"I have no time for idiotic, insipid women. Get out." His words are harsh. Painful to hear.
Eyes smarting, Jin takes a step back, as if he just physically struck her. He has never taken this voice with her before. And with that glare, he might as well be stabbing her through the heart.
"I am s-sorry. Forgive me," she stutters as she quickly retreats backwards. The moment the door latches behind her, Jin begins to run.
Disappointment burns down her throat, making her eyes blur and her breaths hitch. She stumbles her way through the tunnel, barrels past the questioning faces of Malik and Yasmin. Jin climbs the spiral staircase without a looking back, hoping to escape the humiliation.
What was I thinking? I am such an idiot!
Tears are beginning to flow, but she stubbornly blinks them back. Altair's indifferent features and contemptuous voice fills her mind like a nightmare.
She has failed her mission. Altair does not respond to make-up, the fancy clothing, or her sugar-laced words. He does not even find her worth his time.
Jin reaches her room. Wrenches the door from its hinges, slams it shut as she steps into the dark, shadowed room. Finally alone, she lets out a trembling sigh, burying her face in her hands.
Unexpectedly, a weight pushes her backward. Her back meets the hard resistance of the door. Jin gasps. Looks up, and sees a pair of gold peering down at her.
"Altair?" she whispers unbelievingly. He does not answer.
Instead, his lips met hers in an impulsive rush. He drinks from her like a man dying of thirst, and after what seems like eternity, he finally releases her for air.
"Malik, that bastard. He sent you down to distract me," he hisses against the soft underside of her chin, "Well, he succeeded. My concentration is all but shattered."
Strong hands lift her off the ground. Jin instinctively clutches his shoulders. Hard, unyielding muscles press into her body and hold her in place against the door. One of his hand supports her at the underside of her thigh. Gripping, and yet kneading the flesh sensually at the same time.
She dares not to open her eyes for fear of waking up. Because this might be a dream.
"Kiss me again," he raggedly demands. Jin shyly presses her lips against his. Savors the saltiness of his taste, and the velvet texture of his mouth. A feral growl escapes his throat.
He deepens the kiss. With his free hand, he angles her face so that he can have more of her. More of her lips, her taste, and her smell. That faint fragrance of jasmine.
His hip slowly grinds against her. She welcomes it. A salient hardness is pressing insistently into her stomach, but she is beyond caring. This is what she wants. Ever since that incident in Jerusalem. Maybe even before then.
She moans against his mouth. "Please…"
"Please what?" he murmurs against her swollen lips. Each syllable an agonizing caress.
"Do not stop."
Altair smirks. Licks her lips leisurely. "Do you realize what will happen if we do not?"
For a moment, her green eyes gain clarity. Virgin shyness and uncertainty dance together, with just a hint of fear. He can see her thoughts playing behind those forest green depths, and when she comes to her resolute decision, he knows it too.
Without a word, he lifts, and carries her effortlessly across the room. He follows her down onto the bed.
"Um… Altair?"
"Hmm?"
"I have really no experience in this area, or rather, field of study…" Jin trails off hesitantly. A corner of his mouth tilts up in a slight smile, and Altair gently replies, "It matters not to me."
His lips brush lightly against the tip of her chin. Gradually, ever so slowly, it moves down to nip at the skin of her neck. Then the collarbone…
Jin cannot help it. She wriggles away a little so she can continue.
"And… and I am sorry. For those hurtful words I said in ang-" His lips silences her impatiently. His mouth, his hands, even his breathing conveys the message more clearly than any words can: no more talking. Yes, he would much rather hear her lustful moans than rushed apologies.
Jin arches into his touch. Each brush of his hand elicits a response. Every pressure brings an equal reaction from her sensitive body. She hazily recalls him shedding his clothes. She cannot even remember when hers joined his on the floor.
But she definitely registers her bare skin sliding against his. Like silk upon satin. A sensation transcending thought.
Altair is relentlessly moving. Where his hands explore, his mouth inevitably follows. Even his breaths, those warm gasps of air alight her nerves. He is everywhere. Surrounding her senses.
Her body is pleading for release, and he knows. A slanting smirk is all she gets as a warning before his fingers travel downwards. His fingers deftly part the slick folds. One slender digit inserts itself, and all coherency leaves her.
Jin is surprised it is her own voice, crying out in shuddering moans into the velvet darkness.
He chuckles. Another finger joins its playmate. Together, they begin to create the most delicious, hot friction within her body. She feels pushed, her whole body stringing itself into a tight tension. His thumb at last finds the sensitive swelling, and presses.
Light explodes in her unseeing vision. There is no ground, no ceiling, and no gravity. She is soaring. Beyond the stars and into infinity.
When she floats back to consciousness, she finds Altair watching, a very amused expression on his face.
"So that is the face you show me when you…" he drawls lazily. She gasps indignantly and her cheeks begins to color. She makes an effort to pull away, but he instantly stops her. With one hand, he secures her wrists above her head. The other tilts her chin forward, insisting that she looks at him.
She slowly lifts her gaze. His gaze glows molten amber. His mouth, masculine lines that demands obedience, promises more breath-taking experiences as it languidly forms words.
"Do you trust me?" His voice asks her, a deep cadence within satin shadows.
Never has she seen such an unguarded expression in the assassin's intense features. Jin cannot even begin to comprehend how this is the same man who kills in cold blood, or the emotionally distant person who rejected her a few moments ago.
This is… someone completely different. Altair does not show this face to others. And the thought that she is the only one who sees him like this creates a warmth inside of her.
He does not offer promises. He does not whisper sweet nothings. She still does not know what she means to him. Or how this incident will change them. But he asks just one, simple question, and she has the answer.
Jin finally nods, unable to find her voice at that point. He positions himself between her thighs. In a single, quick thrust, he enters her.
Sharp pain ruptures inside of her. Jin cries out. He quickly covers her mouth with his, almost as if he is trying to take in the hurt. But it does not help. Tears form at the corners, and her body automatically tightens with anguish.
She knew it would hurt. She grew up among brothel girls. But they never elaborated on the needle-sharp sting, or how foreign it will feel.
"Jin…" Altair's voice is soft, but also strained. He controls his ravenous urge to move. Every nerve in his body is screaming at him to sink himself to the hilt in her warm, wet womanhood. To wantonly thrust away in abandon until he goes over the brink.
But one look at her glistening tears puts him in a standstill. He draws back. Altair releases her wrists, and gingerly wipes at the wet trails on her pale skin. His elbows rest on either side of her head, and he avoids putting all his weight on her.
"Sorry. I could not help it…" she smiles shakily through watery eyes. The utter remorse in his face makes her want to hold him and tell him everything will be alright. "Keep going."
He whispers his gratitude in her left ear. Then he patiently begins to coax her body to relax. The rough pads of his hands graze against a breast. The deliberate hand cups the soft mound, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her whimper.
The spreading heat slowly returns. One thumb teasingly circles the hard peak, and when she thinks she cannot take any more of it, he takes her into his mouth.
Jin does not realize it when he starts moving within her. She can only bite down her lower lip against the sensuous duality of pleasure and pain. She is returning to that precipice, the cliff overlooking relief. He is taking her there, with each steady stroke. With each strong beat of his heart. It is such perfect synchronization.
Suddenly, her body clenches. Trembling with the intensity, her second climax crashes down upon her. She keeps her eyes open this time.
So she can see the muscles clench in his jaw. The almost imperceptible movement of the vein at his temple. She feels an overpowering satisfaction that she is the one sending him over.
Altair growls violently, deep in his throat. His head drops to the base of her neck, where he exhales hotly. She can feel teeth, digging into flesh in an effort to anchor himself. Unsure of herself, Jin tentatively holds him, knowing where he went, but at the same time, not knowing how he experiences it.
After a few minutes, his breath gradually evens. He imparts a tender kiss onto the abused skin. Wordlessly, Altair lifts his head to gaze upon her.
He is so close. Silvery moonlight softens the powerful lines of his face, transforming features into awe-inspiring beauty. The elegant bow of his eyebrows. The captivating hook of his nose offset by high cheekbones. The sinful lips, full and satiated from their love-making.
And then his eyes. Oh, heavens those eyes.
An intensely burning amber gaze. Deep and penetrating. Piercing through her. Not unlike the first time they met, and now he knows her, imprinted himself on her, both inside and out.
Notes:
1) First off, apologies for being late. I do usually update monthly, but so many factors prevented me from updating sooner. Laptop taken away for repairs, but thankfully I have the chapter on backup. I work on it in the late hours of the night b/c I use beta's laptop and have to wait till she goes to sleep. That and I just wrote my first lemon. _ Cannot avoid it. Totally set myself up, and as beta commented, "Your readers will kill you if you don't". Sighhh...
2) So there is a (somewhat serious) time in every writer's life, where a momentous milestone is reached that solidifies his/her accomplishments in literature. That, for me, is when I received fanart for a fanfic. Yeah, you heard me right.
Thanks so much to Tymethia! Whose wonderful depiction (doodle actually) of Jin that had me squealing: .com/art/Jin-Portrait-149260501 (Or just type in Jin with Assassin's Creed at deviantART and it's the first one to show! xD)
3) That section of Altair taming a horse interlaced with Jin's training montage is my way of metaphorically exploring the complex inner workings of gender roles in the Middle Ages. In other words, I had writer's block. But does anyone else think it was so cliche to use "how he handles a horse is how he handles women?" lawls.
I'm not sure of the correct usage of "Habibi". It's supposedly an endearment of 'beloved' that can be used for lovers or friends? I'm not sure?
4) Finished ACII. Disappointed in the ending and the sci-fi turn of events, but w/e. I'm just now looking for any sad excuse to travel to Italy and see the magnificent buildings I (meaning Ezio) climbed. But I will try to keep everything in line with the Codex pages. Apparently, Altair knew his parents, so I fixed Ch 8 accordingly. He was actually mumbling about contents of the Codex page 5 before Jin interrupts his "concentration".
5) And no, I don't know how he managed to beat her to the room. It must have been some pretty intense climbing. Something similar to that ^%#& of a climb in the tower scene when you can't grab that lamp post.
Beta's request for a funny omake we envisioned while brainstorming that scene:
Jin reaches her room. Wrenches the door from its hinges, slams it shut as she steps into the dark, shadowed room.
A movement catches her eye. With a gasp, she takes in the form of a naked man, lying prostrate upon the bed.
"Altair?" she whispers in surprise.
"Jin, I need you to remain calm. Trust me, I am a professional," his eyes pointedly gesture to the sole pillow covering his unmentionables, "Beneath this pillow, lies the key to my release. I need you to-"
She does not even wait for him to finish. The door slams in utter disgust, as she storms out of the room for good.
Kudos for anyone who picks up that reference.