The knocking was soft, but annoyingly insistent, like a fly that buzzed around your ear and you couldn’t manage to catch it. He grumbled and practically slid off the bed feeling boneless and exhausted and feeling a certain amount of rightful rage to whoever had the balls big enough to disturb his rest. Didn’t they know what time it was?
Currently though he was naked, which was rather obvious, so he slouched over to his dresser and dragged out a pair of pants and stumbled into them, almost falling on his face at least once. Just once though, he wasn’t clumsy enough to almost fall twice. Blindly he reached out and dragged a scarf from the pile he kept at the top of the dresser and mindlessly wrapped it around his head and face like a woman’s hijab. He’d done up enough of those in his life to know how to put one on in the dark, with gloves on, upside down. The drawstring was tied around his waist as he walked to the door and opened it, sticking his head out and looking back and forth down the hall.
No one.
Someone was going to die.
“Aalam,” he started at the voice and looked down and his anger evaporated. It was Giovanni Borgia.
“Giovanni, what are you doing here?” he grumbled and rubbed the part of his face that was visible.
“You’re supposed to take me to see my mama,” he said.
“Now?” what time was it? “What time is it?”
“An hour past the quarter bell,” he recited.
Altair uttered a curse in Arabic. He’d slept in. That hadn’t happened in a long while, not that he was particularly surprised though. “Well I just woke,” he said before realizing something, “How did you find my room?” the boy had never been near his room before.
“Consus told me to ask Dante. He told me,” the traitor. No doubt making him work hard instead of sleeping in. He really did want to go back to bed since he and Cipriano had returned late and finally fallen asleep even later. He was going to have words with Dante about telling children where his room was.
“I see,” he sighed and pondered over what to do. “Come in, I am not yet dressed but I don’t want you waiting outside,” and the boy darted into his room now seeming to be very excited. “Sit on the chair, I will be ready shortly,” he said and the child climbed up onto the chair and sat.
Muttering to himself, though slowly growing more awake, Altair went back over to the bed. “I need to leave,” he said softly, leaning over Cipriano in the bed who was still buried under their blankets making his form indiscernible as far as gender went.
“You need to come back to bed,” Cipriano grumbled, his head stuffed into a pillow.
“Duty calls, it comes first,” he sighed and ran a hand through the loosened curls that covered the darker man’s head.
He turned over so he was lying on his back now and reached up to tug down Altair’s scarf, “Our bed should come first,” he lamented, fingertips drifting over the lines on his face.
“You’ll live somehow,” Altair said and kissed him gently, “You can stay here, just lock the door when you leave.”
“Where are you going?” Altair’s response was to look over his shoulder and Cipriano twisted in order to see around him. “Is that-
“Yes, the Borgia boy,” he said quietly. “Just go back to sleep. We’ll be gone shortly.”
“And if I don’t want you to go?” Cipriano purposefully grabbed the hem of Altair’s pants to keep him from leaving.
“I must, sorry,” he said and gently tugged away. Cipriano just groaned and rolled back over, almost sulking. Altair rolled his eyes and looked back over at Giovanni who was on his knees, leaning over his desk, hands pressed against some papers. He didn’t fear the boy would be able to read them though since like all the personal papers he kept they were written in coded Arabic that he read as easily as regular Arabic. He dressed quickly, pulling off the scarf he’d been wearing to replace it with his mask and hood. “Giovanni,” he called softly as he sheathed his sword properly, now fully dressed and armed.
The boy spun in the chair so fast to look at him he almost fell over and Altair chuckled softly, “Are we going to see my mama now?” he asked excitedly.
Re: Two Eagles (121/?)
The knocking was soft, but annoyingly insistent, like a fly that buzzed around your ear and you couldn’t manage to catch it. He grumbled and practically slid off the bed feeling boneless and exhausted and feeling a certain amount of rightful rage to whoever had the balls big enough to disturb his rest. Didn’t they know what time it was?
Currently though he was naked, which was rather obvious, so he slouched over to his dresser and dragged out a pair of pants and stumbled into them, almost falling on his face at least once. Just once though, he wasn’t clumsy enough to almost fall twice. Blindly he reached out and dragged a scarf from the pile he kept at the top of the dresser and mindlessly wrapped it around his head and face like a woman’s hijab. He’d done up enough of those in his life to know how to put one on in the dark, with gloves on, upside down. The drawstring was tied around his waist as he walked to the door and opened it, sticking his head out and looking back and forth down the hall.
No one.
Someone was going to die.
“Aalam,” he started at the voice and looked down and his anger evaporated. It was Giovanni Borgia.
“Giovanni, what are you doing here?” he grumbled and rubbed the part of his face that was visible.
“You’re supposed to take me to see my mama,” he said.
“Now?” what time was it? “What time is it?”
“An hour past the quarter bell,” he recited.
Altair uttered a curse in Arabic. He’d slept in. That hadn’t happened in a long while, not that he was particularly surprised though. “Well I just woke,” he said before realizing something, “How did you find my room?” the boy had never been near his room before.
“Consus told me to ask Dante. He told me,” the traitor. No doubt making him work hard instead of sleeping in. He really did want to go back to bed since he and Cipriano had returned late and finally fallen asleep even later. He was going to have words with Dante about telling children where his room was.
“I see,” he sighed and pondered over what to do. “Come in, I am not yet dressed but I don’t want you waiting outside,” and the boy darted into his room now seeming to be very excited. “Sit on the chair, I will be ready shortly,” he said and the child climbed up onto the chair and sat.
Muttering to himself, though slowly growing more awake, Altair went back over to the bed. “I need to leave,” he said softly, leaning over Cipriano in the bed who was still buried under their blankets making his form indiscernible as far as gender went.
“You need to come back to bed,” Cipriano grumbled, his head stuffed into a pillow.
“Duty calls, it comes first,” he sighed and ran a hand through the loosened curls that covered the darker man’s head.
He turned over so he was lying on his back now and reached up to tug down Altair’s scarf, “Our bed should come first,” he lamented, fingertips drifting over the lines on his face.
“You’ll live somehow,” Altair said and kissed him gently, “You can stay here, just lock the door when you leave.”
“Where are you going?” Altair’s response was to look over his shoulder and Cipriano twisted in order to see around him. “Is that-
“Yes, the Borgia boy,” he said quietly. “Just go back to sleep. We’ll be gone shortly.”
“And if I don’t want you to go?” Cipriano purposefully grabbed the hem of Altair’s pants to keep him from leaving.
“I must, sorry,” he said and gently tugged away. Cipriano just groaned and rolled back over, almost sulking. Altair rolled his eyes and looked back over at Giovanni who was on his knees, leaning over his desk, hands pressed against some papers. He didn’t fear the boy would be able to read them though since like all the personal papers he kept they were written in coded Arabic that he read as easily as regular Arabic. He dressed quickly, pulling off the scarf he’d been wearing to replace it with his mask and hood. “Giovanni,” he called softly as he sheathed his sword properly, now fully dressed and armed.
The boy spun in the chair so fast to look at him he almost fell over and Altair chuckled softly, “Are we going to see my mama now?” he asked excitedly.