asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]
We're about to reach the posting limit on pt.1&2, this is for those who wish to continue/write on prompts on both these parts.
Writers! It is your responsibility to link back to the original prompt.
There are no request in this part of the meme.
List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Discussion
Clipped (20a/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 02:56 am (UTC)(link)Five of them standing in the distance like pure white sentinels against the gray-yellow sand and dirt. Their forms had been a bit hazy in the heat but they all knew what they were looking at: Rifters. Even from the distance Malik could make out their white hoods and red sashes which stood out against the background and he repressed a shiver. They’d been following them the entire time and only now had they decided to show themselves, just like the brothers had said.
“Fuck me,” Night had muttered staring at them. “Lets go before they decide to climb the fence,” and they’d left.
That had been five days ago and now Malik was back in the capital of his own home and fighting his body’s urge to become horizontal. He’d been glad to be home when he first reached it and had showered off two weeks of filth and sand and dirt and shaved off the beard he was cultivating. That had been yesterday though and he hadn’t slept last night.
Finally the door in front of him opened and Salai’s curious eyes met his striking immediately into worry. “Hello Salai,” he said softly swaying a little from fatigue. Not only had he not slept last night but he hadn’t slept very well at all on the way back or since they’d left the Rift. “Is Leo home?” Salai nodded, “May I come in?” again Salai nodded and quickly pulled him inside, ushering him to the living room where Leo was as well as two people Malik recognized and disliked at least one of them with a passion.
Salai cleared his throat loudly and drew everyone’s attention. “Haven’t you taught that pet of yours not to interrupt?” one of them asked and Malik glared at him.
“This pet is announcing Leo’s best friend’s presence, so kindly keep your thoughts to yourself Lorenzo,” he spat, even though he had nothing against the man the other pissed him off enough for the both of them.
“Malik please,” Leo jumped to his feet to went to him, “I am sorry Lorenzo, please excuse my friend, he’s just returned from a very long trip.”
“Oh he has?” William asked raising his brows at him, “It must have been quite a trip if he wasn’t even there for his friend’s grand opening,” he sneered and Malik refrained the urge to punch him in the face. William Montferrat was one of the most well known kennel owners in the entire trade. He owned more kennels than anyone and Malik enjoyed destroying his the most, and it had nothing to do with the fact that his parents had originally sold him to a Montferrat kennel.
“If you’ll excuse me gentlemen,” and Leo dragged him away. “Malik what is the matter with you?” he hissed once they were out of ear shot, “Those men are my guests and my patrons.”
“I’m sorry Leo,” he said tiredly, and for a moment Leo seemed to be about to smile, “but I could care less.” Leo’s brow furrowed with an upset frown.
“What’s gotten into you?” he demanded softly.
“I’m tired,” he sighed.
“Then go home and sleep,” Leo said almost scolding him. Then Malik’s face fell, “Malik? Is something wrong?” and he gave a little startled yelp when Malik hugged him tightly. “Malik?” he asked now sounding very worried when Malik pressed his face into his shoulder
“I’m glad to be home,” Malik said wondering why his words tasted so incredibly sour.
Re: Clipped (20b/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 02:56 am (UTC)(link)“It’s a long story,” Malik sighed.
“Tell me,” and Leo dragged him back to the living room where they sat. “Malik,” he said worriedly.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Malik groaned sitting back tiredly.
“Well why don’t you just start at the beginning?”
Malik nodded slowly, ““Truthfully I don’t know if I could even stay awake to tell it,” he said tiredly.
“Well just start, burdens are often easier shared,” and Leo reached out and clasped his hand. “I would happily share it,” he added when Malik hesitated.
When he said that it was like a dam broke. At first Malik didn’t know where he was going, he was just talking at first trying to get it out. Leo just sat there, listening and holding onto his hand, squeezing it sometimes almost like a reassurance. He literally told Leo everything except for what Altair had told him about the Rifters because there was to much to tell for that, to much everything he could barely understand. He barely remembered Altair’s threat that if anyone but he or Shaun breathed a word of it Altair would kill them. He thought it lost the feelings in his fingers for a moment when he told Leo about the second deal he’d made and watched his face flicker through emotions though he didn’t say anything, no accusations, no questions, nothing and Malik was grateful for it. The rest was easy then and Leo’s face only became strained again when Malik told him about why he wanted to go with the Rifters and then again when he explained the Templars who’d almost been able to kill them.
He was growing tired, he hadn’t done so much talking for so long it seemed, since you didn’t want to open your mouth to much out in the desert or sand would fly in. But it wasn’t just that, he was emotionally tired too, mentally tired. He was just… tired. He felt a bit like Altair, he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again because to have to keep on going was almost more painful than death.
“Malik,” Leo said gently and Malik closed his mouth and the sound of his own voice ceased for the first time in what seemed like days. “I think you should go to bed,” he patted Malik’s hand. Malik just blinked at him in a slow tired way from behind his glasses, “You can tell me the rest in the morning.”
“I can’t sleep,” Malik grumbled.
“Why? Malik you’re practically asleep where you sit,” Leo squeezed his hand. Malik told him and closed his eyes and like he expected he saw the five Rifters standing there in the desert like some sort of foretoken mirage. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I can’t remember. Rest maybe, but not sleep,” he shook his head.
“I’ll be right back, you stay right here,” he patted Malik’s hand and hopped off the couch. Malik sagged into the couch and his eyes drifted closed though he didn’t see the Rifters beyond the fence, this time it was Altair. He was just… perfect and flawless and brave and strong and handsome and-
He shook his head opening his eyes and sat up strait.
He needed to stop doing this to himself.
Leo came back then and shoved a cup into his hand, “Drink,” he ordered, “You sound parched.” Malik didn’t argue, he drank and only then realized how thirsty he was and drained the contents of the cup in a few seconds.
“Thanks,” he said putting the cup on the table as Leo sat down again. “Where was I?”
“The fence I believe,” Leo said sitting in quiet, partially rapt attention. Malik just nodded and started again but he hadn’t even gotten to the part about Des before he felt his tongue become heavy, his eyelids slammed shut and he tipped forward.
He was vaguely aware of a pair of hands catching him and the words, “There there Malik,” spoken in a soft tone near his ear as a hand patted his hair, “Rest now.”
Thankfully he didn’t dream.
Re: Clipped (20c/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 02:57 am (UTC)(link)The following weeks moved at a snail’s pace for Malik. It seemed like everything had just been put on hold and everyone was just at a standstill. After life that involved the Rifter brothers everything else seemed to slow, to safe, and to lax. Normal people, Sheep really, didn’t move like Rifters did. Sheep were slow and weren’t quick to change, reactions were delayed. Looking at it now Malik understood why Altair always called them Sheep, why such a name was even needed, because compared to them it was all to slow, all to safe, secure and boring. Just how sheep were grazing in the field and they were the wolves that stalked the edges of the flock.
A surprise for him had come in the form of Leo when he’d gotten home. Apparently in the two weeks he’d been gone his friend had become famous. That painting of Des had made him a name within days and Malik thought it was funny to watch his friend try and cope with this new fame he had. The title for the piece he thought was especially fitting and brought about so much controversy Malik could cut it with a knife. After all it was a painting of a pet, the lowest rung on the human ladder in their country and he was being given a supernatural title that just eluded to the idea that not everything in the world was as it should be. It was hard not to think so though when it was called ‘The Prophet’.
It happened five weeks after Malik had returned home. He could sleep at night now, so that was a plus, he just didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. Sure he was a mover, but everything seemed so safe after what he’d done. Father he also probably didn’t ever have to work again after the share of Volpe’s money had been deposited into his bank account in ten thousand cash increments over the past few weeks. It was an obscene amount of money and he really hadn’t cared what the price had been when Daniel had called him telling him about the job; he’d just taken it with barely a thought. So to actually see it in his account was a bit of a mind fuck.
He was over Leo’s, as he often was, in his studio watching him paint. He had a million photos of the Rifters, taking them rather secretly the entire time they’d been lived with him and was painting certain ones. It had become an obsession and a passion as of late and his studio was littered with finished and unfinished paintings of the brother doing all sorts of things. The part that was probably most important though were the collars around their necks because Leo did not paint them out like so many artists did. There were some Malik especially liked, like the one of the three brothers sleeping in the bed with Des in his duel casts, or the amazingly up close picture of Altair stretching and showing off a muscular back, one covered in pale scars but Leo hadn’t painted in the wings.
Leo was currently not painting one of the brothers though, amazingly enough, but Francesco, who was being amazingly patient and still. He had to wanted to do a series of all of the children he cared for and sent to school. Malik would like to see how long that endeavor lasted before he got bored though. When Leo set out to do something he always got distracted or disinterested in it, however when it just came to him it was when he could create things that were magical.
He turned when the door opened hurriedly when Salai came into the studio looking flustered. “What’s the matter Salai?” he asked and the teen flapped his hands in a way that Malik knew was sign but couldn’t understand. “Leo,” he prompted and the artist tore his eyes away from his painting and saw Salai.
“Slow down you’re not making any sense Salai,” Leo said frowning. Salai took a deep breath and with a new deliberateness signed out what he wanted to say. “He says there’s something on the news,” Salai nodded rapidly and grabbed both their hands and began to pull. “Ah! Salai what are you doing?” Leo cried in surprise but the pet said nothing and just pulled harder. The red head dragged them out into the living room, Francesco trailing behind, and the TV screen was frozen on some news reporters face. “Salai, explain yourself,” Leo demanded sounding annoyed.
Re: Clipped (20d/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 02:57 am (UTC)(link)“Father,” Leo breathed.
“Was there anything more Salai?” he asked and the red head shook his head. Malik didn’t believe that for a second. The entire thing stunk of Rifters. He grabbed his Operator, leaving the living room to go into the side yard and quickly pinged Shaun. The man picked up on the third ping.
“Hello?” the electronic voice asked over the speaker.
“Shaun. Did you see that breaking news?”
“I most certainly did. Quite a wonderful bit of work if I do say so myself. The Holy Father killed right in his own home with all that security.”
“Does it seem fishy to you?”
“I was waiting for your call, the news is already five minutes cold and since then I’ve been looking into the situation. Indeed the Holy Father was killed in his bed and his throat was indeed cut, however, what the media didn’t say was that whoever did this left a calling card.”
“What?”
“What was that?” Malik asked carefully and looked towards the tall fence that contained the yard.
“There was writing in blood on the wall. I believe it to be his but we’ll have to wait for the police to test it.”
“What does the writing say?”
“‘The Prophet lives,’” and Malik’s mouth went dry and his eyes widened.
His mind spun, “Can you get a picture?”
“Already done, and sending… now,” said the electronic voice and almost immediately the Operator dinged and he tore his ear away from the device and looked at the new message. He paled at what he saw but there it was clear as day as though someone had used a paintbrush were those very words.
“Can you do something for me Shaun?” he asked putting the Operator back to his ear.
“Maybe. Why?”
“Put this picture out onto the Net.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“For the obvious reasons of course.”
“Which is?”
“Chaos.”
“Oh, I like the way you think Malik. Consider it done,” and he ended the conversation.
—
The next day another politician ended up dead. He was in his bed and his throat had been cut. On his chest the police had found a picture. It was first thought to be a copy of the now famous painting by Leonardo Vinci but upon a closer look it was revealed to not be a picture of the painting but rather a photo. It however captured the same heart break, the same sadness and the same fury that had made the portrait famous. After the photo was leaked and along with the photo of the room of the Holy Father with the words written in blood there was not stopping what was to happen next.
The Prophet Lived.
Re: Clipped (20d/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 06:33 am (UTC)(link)Writeanon
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 07:25 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Writeanon
(Anonymous) 2011-06-07 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Clipped (20d/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-06-08 12:21 am (UTC)(link)