It had started out innocently enough. Just a touch and a question. He had seen Altaïr do it before and come back three times more knowledgeable and to just ask one question...It surely couldn't do him any harm. It wouldn't addict him to the power like it had so many others. Not with just once touch, surely.
Of course, as irony would have it, one questions quickly spiralled out of control.
Malik ghosted his fingertips over the Piece of Eden almost reverently, lips parted and breath bated. He knew that he shouldn't be there in the office. He knew that he shouldn't be touching it. But he was. And he had so many questions that he felt no one and nothing could answer except the sphere just beneath his hand, a hair's breadth away. One questions stood out amongst the others.
Gently Malik spread his fingers down the sphere until his palm touched the crown of the cold metal. A thrill went up his arm and spread rapidly over his body, manifesting in his eyes and tongue and encompassing his entire consciousness in the space of seconds. An empowering, ancient and mysterious energy ebbed through him as the ball began to glow dimly. He wet his lips nervously. One question.
“K-Kad-” He didn't even manage to stutter the rest out. A fierce surge took place, drawing his sight from the room in which he stood to his inner self. The truth struck into him with the brutality of an enemy's blade.
Kadar could neither be happy nor sad. He was dead.
Reality was disappointing and painful, but the knowledge had been so easy to obtain.
Malik shook himself from his stupor and looked to the ball again. Imagine what one could do with this. Control an army, feed a family for a lifetime, create or restore life, heal and absolve. Even regrow limbs.
The last thought had been fleeting. But at the moment it had fluttered through a sudden weight attached itself to his mind and slowed it down, dragging it back into sight. Regrow a limb.
His mind was pried open by pinprick sleeves of light, which burrowed and dug their way into his thoughts and desired. Malik's eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered as he gasped at the alien intrusion.
Yes, regrow limbs. Regrow his arm. Be Altaïr's equal. Be a cripple no longer. He could climb and leap and dress and eat and train and live differently; with an ease currently absent. Imagine if he could grow it back.
He wanted to grow it back.
He could grow it back.
He would grow it back.
What remained of the bone in his left arm began to vibrate and hum in it's socket. Quickly and painfully it shot out of the scar tissue, forming the skeleton of his upper arm. He cried out. His elbow cracked into existence and then slowly the Ulna and Radius grew out of that and into a wrist. He chocked as muscle and veins and lymph wound around the new bones, clinging tightly and corded. It was excruciating. His grip on the Apple was hard enough to quake his right arm. Tears slipped from his eyes, lids scrunched tight. Metacarpals rolled out from carpals as tendons wrapped his elbow and cartilage cushioned his joints. He sobbed loudly. The Apple still in hand he fell to his knees. His innocent question had quickly turned in the wrong direction and was becoming the reason for one of the most painful experiences in his life. He skin peeled at the join and then began to inch as fresh, sensitive sheets down the new muscle. He screamed in agony.
FILL [1.a/?]
Of course, as irony would have it, one questions quickly spiralled out of control.
Malik ghosted his fingertips over the Piece of Eden almost reverently, lips parted and breath bated. He knew that he shouldn't be there in the office. He knew that he shouldn't be touching it. But he was. And he had so many questions that he felt no one and nothing could answer except the sphere just beneath his hand, a hair's breadth away. One questions stood out amongst the others.
Gently Malik spread his fingers down the sphere until his palm touched the crown of the cold metal. A thrill went up his arm and spread rapidly over his body, manifesting in his eyes and tongue and encompassing his entire consciousness in the space of seconds. An empowering, ancient and mysterious energy ebbed through him as the ball began to glow dimly. He wet his lips nervously. One question.
“K-Kad-” He didn't even manage to stutter the rest out. A fierce surge took place, drawing his sight from the room in which he stood to his inner self. The truth struck into him with the brutality of an enemy's blade.
Kadar could neither be happy nor sad. He was dead.
Reality was disappointing and painful, but the knowledge had been so easy to obtain.
Malik shook himself from his stupor and looked to the ball again. Imagine what one could do with this. Control an army, feed a family for a lifetime, create or restore life, heal and absolve. Even regrow limbs.
The last thought had been fleeting. But at the moment it had fluttered through a sudden weight attached itself to his mind and slowed it down, dragging it back into sight. Regrow a limb.
His mind was pried open by pinprick sleeves of light, which burrowed and dug their way into his thoughts and desired. Malik's eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered as he gasped at the alien intrusion.
Yes, regrow limbs. Regrow his arm. Be Altaïr's equal. Be a cripple no longer. He could climb and leap and dress and eat and train and live differently; with an ease currently absent. Imagine if he could grow it back.
He wanted to grow it back.
He could grow it back.
He would grow it back.
What remained of the bone in his left arm began to vibrate and hum in it's socket. Quickly and painfully it shot out of the scar tissue, forming the skeleton of his upper arm. He cried out. His elbow cracked into existence and then slowly the Ulna and Radius grew out of that and into a wrist. He chocked as muscle and veins and lymph wound around the new bones, clinging tightly and corded. It was excruciating. His grip on the Apple was hard enough to quake his right arm. Tears slipped from his eyes, lids scrunched tight. Metacarpals rolled out from carpals as tendons wrapped his elbow and cartilage cushioned his joints. He sobbed loudly. The Apple still in hand he fell to his knees. His innocent question had quickly turned in the wrong direction and was becoming the reason for one of the most painful experiences in his life. He skin peeled at the join and then began to inch as fresh, sensitive sheets down the new muscle. He screamed in agony.