William snorted and shook his head, downing the last of his whiskey in a gulp. He unbuttoned his shirt as he headed around the bungalow to turn off lights and lock doors. Altair dogged his steps, whispering curses practically into the man’s ear and wished they could actually have an effect.
When William’s door was safely closed and Altair heard the man settle in for the night, he finally turned his feet to where he’d wanted to be all along. Desmond’s door was shut tight, and when Altair knocked on it he was pleased that it took a full minute and a bit of shuffling for Desmond to open it. Once he was inside, he helped Desmond tuck his plastic chair back under the doorknob and re-stuff some of his dirty clothes under the bottom of the door.
“S’rry I didn’t leave a window open.” Desmond apologized, and Altair made a mental note to sew Desmond’s left cuff back on since he’d chewed it off again. “Read me a story?”
“You know how to read.” Altair reminded him, but he was already moving to the bookcase to decide on a book. He felt like French tonight, and pulled out a book of fairy-tales.
Desmond was waiting for him under the covers, and Altair scooted him over a little so he had room to lie down. After some squirming they both settled, and Altair quickly perused the table of contents to find the fable of Aurore et Aimée. Desmond craned his neck to get a better look at the decorative illuminations around the edges of the page and nearly cracked his skull against Altair’s chin. A quick shuffle of pages later and Altair cleared his throat to begin.
“Une dame a eu deux filles...” Desmond somehow managed to settle himself even further into the crook of Altair’s arm as he read. It never mattered what language he spoke to Desmond in, somehow the boy never heard anything but English. More of the sorcery that bound him, he supposed. It meant he couldn’t even tutor the boy in languages and, although Italian wouldn’t have been part of Desmond’s lessons anyway, he had felt a little embarrassed at the boy's ignorance the other day.
As he read, his mind wandered to the important part of that day. Ezio he did not know, had never known, and had not had a chance to speak with. Malik…
“Aurore jamais ne s'est encore plaint de n'importe quel malheur, parce qu'elle a su que le malheur était souvent la cause du bonheur.” Altair finished and closed the book softly. Desmond blinked sleepily, then seemed to realize he had shown a sign of weakness and scrambled up to put the book away.
Altair sat up himself and leaned against the headboard painted with planets and stars. He could tell that Desmond wanted to sneak out to watch the television, but it was still too early and his father would hear the noise. He knew Desmond could figure that out for himself, so he folded his arms, waited for another book to be brought over, and wished he could kill that man.
Childhood Fantasies, Part 5
When William’s door was safely closed and Altair heard the man settle in for the night, he finally turned his feet to where he’d wanted to be all along. Desmond’s door was shut tight, and when Altair knocked on it he was pleased that it took a full minute and a bit of shuffling for Desmond to open it. Once he was inside, he helped Desmond tuck his plastic chair back under the doorknob and re-stuff some of his dirty clothes under the bottom of the door.
“S’rry I didn’t leave a window open.” Desmond apologized, and Altair made a mental note to sew Desmond’s left cuff back on since he’d chewed it off again. “Read me a story?”
“You know how to read.” Altair reminded him, but he was already moving to the bookcase to decide on a book. He felt like French tonight, and pulled out a book of fairy-tales.
Desmond was waiting for him under the covers, and Altair scooted him over a little so he had room to lie down. After some squirming they both settled, and Altair quickly perused the table of contents to find the fable of Aurore et Aimée. Desmond craned his neck to get a better look at the decorative illuminations around the edges of the page and nearly cracked his skull against Altair’s chin. A quick shuffle of pages later and Altair cleared his throat to begin.
“Une dame a eu deux filles...” Desmond somehow managed to settle himself even further into the crook of Altair’s arm as he read. It never mattered what language he spoke to Desmond in, somehow the boy never heard anything but English. More of the sorcery that bound him, he supposed. It meant he couldn’t even tutor the boy in languages and, although Italian wouldn’t have been part of Desmond’s lessons anyway, he had felt a little embarrassed at the boy's ignorance the other day.
As he read, his mind wandered to the important part of that day. Ezio he did not know, had never known, and had not had a chance to speak with. Malik…
“Aurore jamais ne s'est encore plaint de n'importe quel malheur, parce qu'elle a su que le malheur était souvent la cause du bonheur.” Altair finished and closed the book softly. Desmond blinked sleepily, then seemed to realize he had shown a sign of weakness and scrambled up to put the book away.
Altair sat up himself and leaned against the headboard painted with planets and stars. He could tell that Desmond wanted to sneak out to watch the television, but it was still too early and his father would hear the noise. He knew Desmond could figure that out for himself, so he folded his arms, waited for another book to be brought over, and wished he could kill that man.