Ezio feels the rush of falling as he and Malik jump from the rafters. They descend upon the shocked men like two birds of prey, quickly taking care of them without much hassle. He watches Malik fight, awe filled at the site of the one armed man wielding a blade with true skill. The Arabic man is graceful and deadly, something which Ezio admires in a person; he watches as a small pout flits over Malik’s mouth as the last man drops with a thud.
Ezio laughs loudly, shocking both Malik and himself with the action. He blinks, grinning at the man, feeling sort of like his younger self. “You’re upset with the fight, amico mio?” Malik stares at him in confusion before shaking his head. “I do not understand what you are saying…” Ezio coughs softly, flushing in embarrassment when he realizes that he had spoken in his native Italian.
“My apologizes,” He begins in Arabic, “I had asked if you were disappointed in the fight.” Malik bends down, dislodging his knives from the men’s skulls, a soft frown dipping the corner of his mouth. Ezio watches quietly, liking the slight changes of expression on the man’s face, questions as to how this man was /alive/ still bubbling in this throat.
Malik wipes off a blade and returns it to his belt, turning from the bodies to walk away. Ezio follows like a puppy, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet while the other man merely stalks down the slowly crumpling halls like a cat. “I was hoping for a larger group of men. That was child’s play.” Malik hums, trailing his one hand over the dusty stone of the walls.
“They were talking about ghosts…care to explain?” The Dai turns as they arrive at the door to his room. His expression is that of mild annoyance, but mostly it’s exasperated amusement. ’He’s happy to have someone to talk to,’ A voice that sounded like Leonardo whispered in the back of Ezio’s mind. ’How long has he been alone like this?’
“Apparently I have made quite a reputation for myself. ’The Ghost of Masyaf’,” They enter into the warm chamber, and Ezio sighs as the warm air licks his face. Malik sits on the edge of a wooden chair, leaving the feather pallet to the still wounded assassin. “The men who enter the fortress are never to be seen again…or so the story goes.”
Ezio sits on the blankets, watching as Malik rests a hand on the messy desk. Dark fingers wind themselves in the linen wrappings, idly playing with the cloth while teeth chew on the inside of his cheek. Ezio licks his lips, hands clenching in his lap. “…how long have you been alive?” He asks softly, waiting to see if the rage and anguish from earlier would rear their ugly heads.
A long sigh followed after a moment; the Dai seemed to deflate in the wooden chair, his hand coming up to cover his face. Through his fingers, dark blue eyes searched for brown-gold. “Centuries.” Came the muffled response. “…I have watched kings rise and fall…my family age and die, people I cared about fall into madness…because of that /damned/ apple.” Malik’s voice hardened, and his shoulders shook. Ezio resisted the urge to comfort the other man, waiting for him to continue.
The Dai sat up, composed yet the light of depression and loneliness still shined through his eyes. He licked his lips, taking a shuddering breath before letting it loose. “You and he…you look very much alike.” Ezio blinked, not knowing who the Dai was speaking about, yet he had a feeling somewhere that he did know. Malik kneeled down beside the other man, his one hand going up to cup the other’s cheek.
His lips brushed Ezio’s ear as he whispered brokenly, “Please, destroy the thing so I may /die/.”
Re: Ageless 2/2 PRT III
Ezio feels the rush of falling as he and Malik jump from the rafters. They descend upon the shocked men like two birds of prey, quickly taking care of them without much hassle. He watches Malik fight, awe filled at the site of the one armed man wielding a blade with true skill. The Arabic man is graceful and deadly, something which Ezio admires in a person; he watches as a small pout flits over Malik’s mouth as the last man drops with a thud.
Ezio laughs loudly, shocking both Malik and himself with the action. He blinks, grinning at the man, feeling sort of like his younger self. “You’re upset with the fight, amico mio?” Malik stares at him in confusion before shaking his head.
“I do not understand what you are saying…” Ezio coughs softly, flushing in embarrassment when he realizes that he had spoken in his native Italian.
“My apologizes,” He begins in Arabic, “I had asked if you were disappointed in the fight.” Malik bends down, dislodging his knives from the men’s skulls, a soft frown dipping the corner of his mouth. Ezio watches quietly, liking the slight changes of expression on the man’s face, questions as to how this man was /alive/ still bubbling in this throat.
Malik wipes off a blade and returns it to his belt, turning from the bodies to walk away. Ezio follows like a puppy, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet while the other man merely stalks down the slowly crumpling halls like a cat. “I was hoping for a larger group of men. That was child’s play.” Malik hums, trailing his one hand over the dusty stone of the walls.
“They were talking about ghosts…care to explain?” The Dai turns as they arrive at the door to his room. His expression is that of mild annoyance, but mostly it’s exasperated amusement. ’He’s happy to have someone to talk to,’ A voice that sounded like Leonardo whispered in the back of Ezio’s mind. ’How long has he been alone like this?’
“Apparently I have made quite a reputation for myself. ’The Ghost of Masyaf’,” They enter into the warm chamber, and Ezio sighs as the warm air licks his face. Malik sits on the edge of a wooden chair, leaving the feather pallet to the still wounded assassin. “The men who enter the fortress are never to be seen again…or so the story goes.”
Ezio sits on the blankets, watching as Malik rests a hand on the messy desk. Dark fingers wind themselves in the linen wrappings, idly playing with the cloth while teeth chew on the inside of his cheek. Ezio licks his lips, hands clenching in his lap. “…how long have you been alive?” He asks softly, waiting to see if the rage and anguish from earlier would rear their ugly heads.
A long sigh followed after a moment; the Dai seemed to deflate in the wooden chair, his hand coming up to cover his face. Through his fingers, dark blue eyes searched for brown-gold. “Centuries.” Came the muffled response. “…I have watched kings rise and fall…my family age and die, people I cared about fall into madness…because of that /damned/ apple.” Malik’s voice hardened, and his shoulders shook. Ezio resisted the urge to comfort the other man, waiting for him to continue.
The Dai sat up, composed yet the light of depression and loneliness still shined through his eyes. He licked his lips, taking a shuddering breath before letting it loose. “You and he…you look very much alike.” Ezio blinked, not knowing who the Dai was speaking about, yet he had a feeling somewhere that he did know. Malik kneeled down beside the other man, his one hand going up to cup the other’s cheek.
His lips brushed Ezio’s ear as he whispered brokenly, “Please, destroy the thing so I may /die/.”
--END--