“The woman was a lover of mine, and I could see that you disliked her, however I believed it was merely because she had doubtable roots and loyalties. I could not see it for the jealousy it was for years, She had two children by me, and left years ago with them both, to my great displeasure.
“The object, more so after her departure than before, held my interest and threatened to overcome me. Still threatens... I become unwell all too quickly now for not looking after myself. You will be the grounding force keeping me to this...my world. You were jealous of it and angry at me...and worried. And you cared very deeply for me. I was mourning and short-sighted.
“One week you hid the object from me. I searched all day on the first day, driven mad. Then I rested. On the second I fought with you. On the third I realised that you cared for me greatly. That you had been a very...constant figure in my life.
“I considered all of my feelings for you, and so even when I retrieved the object I was haunted by confusing messaged and alien feelings. What I first dismissed to be brotherhood; platos, I then discovered to be eros. We confessed two years ago. I was twenty-six.
“You are very young for a Grand Master.” Malik mumbled, as if dismissing everything else Altaïr had told him.
“Even Al Mualim was young once.” Altaïr sighed, and wrenched his eyes from the back of Malik's head to the ceiling.
“Strange,” Malik smirked, and abandoned his work entirely to turn on his cushion and face Altaïr. “I never thought I would hear the day that Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad did not sing Al Mualim's praises...Or his own.”
“As I have said, I will change much to become who I am now.”
Malik gave a thoughtful hum, not agreeing or disagreeing. A silence descended upon the both of them and a tiredness washed over Altaïr, coaxed upon him by hours of gazing into the Apple and the exhaustion of dreams plaguing his sleep. He yawned widely and silently, and then asked with his voice still distorted by his widened throat, “Do you believe now?”
Malik shook his head in reply.
Altaïr gave a small smile and a quiet, contented hum. “Yes, a man must live through it to believe it, I suppose.”
“And,” Malik started, gaining Altaïr's attention, “even if I did live it, I would not believe that you felt for me. Not if there was a woman.”
Ah, there it was; Altaïr's own little insecurity. What if Malik doubted his affections? And he did not mean this young Malik, but the one who grew from him. The Apple seemed to be erring on the edge of offence, beginning to scratch away at his vulnerabilities. He would have to move carefully and reclaim control, at least until his tired mind could grasp the key.
He turned his head to look back to Malik, and stared straight into his face; into his eyes. Malik stared back defiantly.
“You will become such an integral part of me that the moments spent with women will pale in comparison. Of that I am confident.” Some part of him twisted inside; a small, worrying voice that screamed for Adha's memory and for his love of Maria and their sons, but the overwhelming majority knew that the statement was true. “I hope that you will never doubt me.”
3; The soothe [4/?]
“The object, more so after her departure than before, held my interest and threatened to overcome me. Still threatens... I become unwell all too quickly now for not looking after myself. You will be the grounding force keeping me to this...my world. You were jealous of it and angry at me...and worried. And you cared very deeply for me. I was mourning and short-sighted.
“One week you hid the object from me. I searched all day on the first day, driven mad. Then I rested. On the second I fought with you. On the third I realised that you cared for me greatly. That you had been a very...constant figure in my life.
“I considered all of my feelings for you, and so even when I retrieved the object I was haunted by confusing messaged and alien feelings. What I first dismissed to be brotherhood; platos, I then discovered to be eros. We confessed two years ago. I was twenty-six.
“You are very young for a Grand Master.” Malik mumbled, as if dismissing everything else Altaïr had told him.
“Even Al Mualim was young once.” Altaïr sighed, and wrenched his eyes from the back of Malik's head to the ceiling.
“Strange,” Malik smirked, and abandoned his work entirely to turn on his cushion and face Altaïr. “I never thought I would hear the day that Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad did not sing Al Mualim's praises...Or his own.”
“As I have said, I will change much to become who I am now.”
Malik gave a thoughtful hum, not agreeing or disagreeing. A silence descended upon the both of them and a tiredness washed over Altaïr, coaxed upon him by hours of gazing into the Apple and the exhaustion of dreams plaguing his sleep. He yawned widely and silently, and then asked with his voice still distorted by his widened throat, “Do you believe now?”
Malik shook his head in reply.
Altaïr gave a small smile and a quiet, contented hum. “Yes, a man must live through it to believe it, I suppose.”
“And,” Malik started, gaining Altaïr's attention, “even if I did live it, I would not believe that you felt for me. Not if there was a woman.”
Ah, there it was; Altaïr's own little insecurity. What if Malik doubted his affections? And he did not mean this young Malik, but the one who grew from him. The Apple seemed to be erring on the edge of offence, beginning to scratch away at his vulnerabilities. He would have to move carefully and reclaim control, at least until his tired mind could grasp the key.
He turned his head to look back to Malik, and stared straight into his face; into his eyes. Malik stared back defiantly.
“You will become such an integral part of me that the moments spent with women will pale in comparison. Of that I am confident.” Some part of him twisted inside; a small, worrying voice that screamed for Adha's memory and for his love of Maria and their sons, but the overwhelming majority knew that the statement was true. “I hope that you will never doubt me.”