Malik is silent as he stares at the wounded man. He appears calm, though Ezio can see him fiddling with the edge of one of the linen wrappings before he sits them on top of a pile of books. The Arabic man stills, one hand spread over the top of the wrappings, breathing deeply before his eyes snap once more to meet Ezio's.
"You're a wake...that's surprising." He says slowly, as if knowing Ezio has a limited grasp of his native tongue. His voice is pitched low, rumbling through his smaller frame, shocking the Italian slightly.
Ezio licks his lips, eyes flickering around the room again before they land to rest on Malik. His brow furrows and he feels a flush stain his cheeks. "Novice? How am I a novice?"
Malik scoffs softly, eyes traveling down Ezio's bruised torso before he places his hand on his hip. He tilts his head to one side and looks down his nose. "You charge in here, like a /bull/, without a plan. Then when you are attacked, you simply cut through the attackers without any /skill/." Malik sniffs lightly, but a small flicker of a smile passes over his lips before it disappears.
Ezio glowers lightly, watching as the man walks about his room. (The assassin can only assume such, seeing as this place was the only part of the old fortress that still looked /lived/ in.) Malik balances a pile of books in one hand, shelving a few but keeping most out in a neater pile beside a messy desk. The shuffling of well-worn robes over dusty rugs is slightly soothing to the wounded man, and he finds his lids drooping. His head bobs once before he's jolted awake by a cool hand on his arm.
Malik watches the man's face morph from blissfully content to alert in a matter of nano-seconds; his breath catches in his throat as familiar eyes meet his dead-on. "Why are you still /alive/?"
A pained expression flashes across the Arabic male's face; he turns from the assassin, shoulders hunched. Ezio watches as one hand fiddles with the wrappings resting laying sprawled over the rugs and pallet. Malik looks over his shoulder and glares, dark blue eyes masking over the pain and sadness that was previously bared to the other male. A pink tongue flickers out to wet his lips. "It is my problem to deal with. I do not need a novice like you prying into my life."
Ezio frowns deeply, and moves towards the hunched man. His arm shakes slightly as he claps a hand on Malik's shoulder, jolting the man into action.
Malik whorls around, hand snatching the one resting on his shoulder in a vice grip. His face is contorted into a fierce snarl, and his eyes have gone from dark-blue to an inky midnight black. Ezio is slightly shocked by the rage and anguish reflecting back at him, that he can't help but think that this was how he had looked like when his family was murdered.
"Do not touch me." The man snaps, "Do not act as if you are my friend. You do not know me, and what has happened to me." The grip on Ezio's wrist is starting to falter, but the assassin continues to stare into Malik's eyes instead of tugging his arm away.
"Why are you here?" Malik barks, the words sounding somewhat confusing in the translation.
Ezio refuses to brake eye contact, something which Malik admires. The assassin doesn't falter under his rage, and Malik knows that perhaps he shouldn't be showing such weakness to a possible enemy. He has spent so much time holed up in the fortress that he doesn't know who he can trust anymore.
"I'm here for answers." Ezio replies after a moment, voice sounding too loud in the small room.
Re: Ageless 2/2 PRT I
"You're a wake...that's surprising." He says slowly, as if knowing Ezio has a limited grasp of his native tongue. His voice is pitched low, rumbling through his smaller frame, shocking the Italian slightly.
Ezio licks his lips, eyes flickering around the room again before they land to rest on Malik. His brow furrows and he feels a flush stain his cheeks. "Novice? How am I a novice?"
Malik scoffs softly, eyes traveling down Ezio's bruised torso before he places his hand on his hip. He tilts his head to one side and looks down his nose. "You charge in here, like a /bull/, without a plan. Then when you are attacked, you simply cut through the attackers without any /skill/." Malik sniffs lightly, but a small flicker of a smile passes over his lips before it disappears.
Ezio glowers lightly, watching as the man walks about his room. (The assassin can only assume such, seeing as this place was the only part of the old fortress that still looked /lived/ in.) Malik balances a pile of books in one hand, shelving a few but keeping most out in a neater pile beside a messy desk. The shuffling of well-worn robes over dusty rugs is slightly soothing to the wounded man, and he finds his lids drooping. His head bobs once before he's jolted awake by a cool hand on his arm.
Malik watches the man's face morph from blissfully content to alert in a matter of nano-seconds; his breath catches in his throat as familiar eyes meet his dead-on. "Why are you still /alive/?"
A pained expression flashes across the Arabic male's face; he turns from the assassin, shoulders hunched. Ezio watches as one hand fiddles with the wrappings resting laying sprawled over the rugs and pallet. Malik looks over his shoulder and glares, dark blue eyes masking over the pain and sadness that was previously bared to the other male. A pink tongue flickers out to wet his lips. "It is my problem to deal with. I do not need a novice like you prying into my life."
Ezio frowns deeply, and moves towards the hunched man. His arm shakes slightly as he claps a hand on Malik's shoulder, jolting the man into action.
Malik whorls around, hand snatching the one resting on his shoulder in a vice grip. His face is contorted into a fierce snarl, and his eyes have gone from dark-blue to an inky midnight black. Ezio is slightly shocked by the rage and anguish reflecting back at him, that he can't help but think that this was how he had looked like when his family was murdered.
"Do not touch me." The man snaps, "Do not act as if you are my friend. You do not know me, and what has happened to me." The grip on Ezio's wrist is starting to falter, but the assassin continues to stare into Malik's eyes instead of tugging his arm away.
"Why are you here?" Malik barks, the words sounding somewhat confusing in the translation.
Ezio refuses to brake eye contact, something which Malik admires. The assassin doesn't falter under his rage, and Malik knows that perhaps he shouldn't be showing such weakness to a possible enemy. He has spent so much time holed up in the fortress that he doesn't know who he can trust anymore.
"I'm here for answers." Ezio replies after a moment, voice sounding too loud in the small room.