I intended to write Altaïr and Malik’s big talk in this chapter, but things grew so out of hand asdfghjkl; This chapter is more like a filler and probably boring as fuck, but it's important I swear. Did I mention porn was just a chapter or two away? Boy, if I had any idea...
----------
It’s not that Malik never expected professor Ezio to have a normal life. However, after hearing so much about his accomplishments in life, reading so many of his books, it was hard to picture this incredible man coming home and being attacked by children.
The professor had just unlocked the door when two small kids darted up from the floor where they had been playing and ran to the man, hugging him tightly across the legs. It was the sort of thing he wouldn’t have imagined in a million years, although it was a cute image.
Malik loved kids. Always had. It was natural, after all, since he grew up taking care of Kadar. Marcello was too shy to get too close to him, but Flavia was too lively to stay put and in less than ten minutes she had brought down to the living room a bunch of dolls, books and some paper collection she seemed to enjoy and wanted to show him everything. She didn’t rest until she had talked about all the books her father had bought to her. (Things like “my first history book” that brought many memories back from when he used to buy them for his young brother as well. Sadly Kadar never took interest in history as he did, leading him to stop trying getting him into it eventually.)
But all too soon Ezio ushered her to bed and Malik was left alone in the big living room. He came back later, apologizing for her enthusiasm, but Malik shook his head and smiled.
“I have a younger brother. Had to take care of him since I was small. I grew fond of kids.”
As Ezio made himself comfortable on a reclinable armchair next to him, he took the time to look around. The living room was nothing short of amazing. It was as big as Malik’s entire apartment. A huge white fireplace stood tall in one of the walls. On top of it, hang on the wall, was an equally large TV screen. There was a couch - the one he was sat on - and two armchairs, all around a glass coffee table. Beneath it an old carpet with arabic patterns in dark red crossed from one chair to the other. On the walls there were many replica paintings, some of which Malik knew well, others he couldn’t quite remember on the spot.
On the far end of the room there was a small kitchen area, with a small stove, freezer and a counter with tall chairs. From the ceiling hang a horizontal luminaire with small holes for wine glasses to be placed upside down (some already were, but the others were empty). Everything about the mansion left him in awe and he couldn’t wait until he saw the other rooms, imagining they were just as grand.
His host kept him company and they went on talking for a quite a long time, until Ezio got up and went to kitchen when hunger made itself present for both of them. It wasn’t much later when a woman came in and removed her coat and left a few bags on top of a table.
“Ah, Sofia. Just in time.”
She was a beautiful redhead woman, probably still in her thirties, holding many books on her hands. Malik quickly rose from his seat and helped her with them.
“Risotto again?” She chuckled when Ezio muttered “But you love my risotto!”. Then she turned towards Malik and nodded. “Thank you. You can put them down on the coffee table, I’ll organize this mess later.”
“Sofia, this is--”
“Mr. Al-Sayf, I know.” After Malik put the books down, he came back and shook her extended hand, much like he did when he first met Ezio. “Altaïr came to the bookstore earlier and he told me what happened.”
Malik and Ezio exchanged looks. From there, Ezio cleaned his hands on a kitchen cloth and sighed.
“About that, it seems we have a problem here.”
The woman sat on the couch and looked from one to the other in confusion. He felt as though it would be a long night.
----------
Malik’s dreams, when not nightmares, were usually boring and non-significative. Most of the times, he was in the same room, with the bright light of the sun coming in through the only door to his left while he worked on some papers in front of him. They looked like maps, although he wasn’t entirely sure. Sometimes he didn’t even remember what he was working on.
These dreams, usually long and dull, were actually the ones he enjoyed the most. He always woke up the following day feeling like he had a good night’s sleep, which became something incredibly rare these days.
He also realized that sometimes those men in white would come and talked to him. One time, and only once, a man covered in red came through the ceiling door. As calm as he could possibly be, he got around the counter and helped the man lay down on some colored cushions outside the room.
Malik was no doctor, but he walked behind the counter again and got some bottles, a bowl, leaves and cloths (all with one hand - and by now he was used to the fact that, somehow, his left arm was missing in his dreams for some reason). The bowl he filled with water from the fountain on the farthest wall. Upon returning, he set everything down by the man’s side and began his work. First by removing the man’s bloodied robes and tossing them aside (he would clean them and sew the holes caused by knives and falchions later). He turned the man around (not without him muttering something that sounded offensive, but he was too busy trying to work to care) and cleaned the blood with a wet cloth. The man stopped talking, but still hissed every time he connected with his exposed back.
Malik handed a bottle of poppy for the man, but he turned his head to the other side, refusing it. He didn’t insist, but left the bottle there in case he changed his mind. After everything was cleaned up and the leaves pressed against the bruises, he bandaged his back with a thin beige cloth and turned him back up, taking care not to hurt him. As he did so, Malik sat on the cushions beneath the man’s head and let him rest on his legs while his back was against the wall. His fingers caressed the man’s hair gently and a nice breeze came in from the roof. When Malik looked down, the man was already sleeping.
He had never felt so peaceful before.
He woke up at two in the morning, still feeling the hair brushing against his fingers and the inner peace it caused him. That was probably why he couldn’t bring himself to panic over the fact that he was almost sure the man from his dreams was Altaïr. If they were trying to tell him something, he was completely lost after that. Sighing, he got up and wandered through the house, returning to the living room.
Finding the lights on was a bit surprising, but even more so was finding Sofia doing something in the kitchen area. As soon as he entered, she looked back at him.
“Having trouble to sleep as well?”
Malik approached the counter and sat on one of the tall chairs. “Something like that.”
“Right. The dreams.” She turned back to the stove and removed the kettle. “Would you like some tea? I have a difficult relationship with sleep as well and it helps a lot.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled and filled two cups with tea bags with hot water.
“I’m not like you and Ezio. I never had the dreams.”
He looked at her with interest. By this time, he was so used to meeting people talking about weird dreams that finding a normal person for once felt completely out of place.
“I don’t know if it has something to do with you because of your ancestry, but I was never plagued with these... visions, as Ezio called them. But he suffered a lot through them, so I...” Her eyes were distant and Malik knew she was reliving some unpleasant memories. “Well, I wasn’t there at first. By the time we started living together he was at the end of his visions. They stopped entirely after Flavia was born.”
“They’re weird, make no sense.”
“He used to say the same thing. Honestly, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like.”
“They’re like...” He stopped. He didn’t even know what to say. What did the dreams feel like? Visions, sure. But from what? An alternative universe? Another life? Hidden memories? “They feel so real. I guess that’s the weird part. They just don’t feel like dreams.”
To his surprise, she chuckled.
“I bet. The first time I saw Ezio going through one of them was back when I was still in Italy. I was born in Spain, but my parents were from Venice, so when I turned 20, I went back to their hometown and reopened a small cafe bookstore they had there. One day, he simply came in, paid for a coffee and returned almost every day after that. We started talking and getting to know each other. Before I knew it, he was practically living there and I hired him as an assistant during his free time.”
Malik knew Ezio had spent two years in Venice finishing one of his books, but never knew he actually worked on a bookstore, even if it was part-time. He never included that bit in any of his biographies or resumé. What an interesting bit of information.
“One day I was cleaning the store after I closed it and I guess he fell asleep on one of the chairs because next thing I know he’s jumping out from his seat and running to me, like he was in panic!” Her eyes grew large as she continued with her story. “It was like.. It was like he was completely in shock! He grabbed my arms with so much strength and fell to his knees in front of me and started screaming how I could never leave him and that I had to stay with him. He was on the verge of tears when he hugged me like I was going to just disappear and told me I had to marry him. Would you believe that? Most people ask their loved ones to marry them, but he practically demanded.”
He blinked. “And you accepted?”
“Hell no.” Sofia snorted and moved to throw the tea bags away, handing him one of the cups. “I thought he was crazy and sent him away. He never showed up after that.” She took a sip of her tea, but put it down soon afterwards. He noticed as her expression became serene when she spoke next. “But I felt so bad for it. I mean, okay, that was strange, but he didn’t do anything bad to me. I knew where he lived so I paid him a visit. He apologized and explained to me what was going on.” Her fingers tapped on her cup.
“He told me he had seen me in his dreams and that we had been married there. He was calm and collected when he said that, nothing like what he had been at the bookstore. I didn’t believe him at first, but I thought he was just trying to be charming by saying cute things like that, so I took him on his offer.”
“And you married him.”
“No, no! Not that offer. I mean we started going out. Then we married.”
Malik drank his tea and looked straight at her. “But you make it sound as though you believe him now.”
“Because I do.” She finished her own cup and left both at the sink to wash later. When she turned back to Malik, she had a tired smile on her face. “Tell you what, talk to Altaïr. If you don’t believe the things he tell you, come see me at my bookstore. I’ll show you something that you may find interesting.”
He nodded, although confusion remained. She covered a yawn with her hand and waved him good night, returning to her own room. He should have done the same thing and returned to his own room, but couldn’t stop thinking about her story with Ezio. What if they were scenes from a past life? What would that mean?
He knew Kadar in his past life, he figured that much. Altaïr as well, as it seemed. But that dream he had before, the one where he patched the man up, something felt different about it. There was a connection there, as if he had known the Altaïr from his dreams for a long time.
He quickly shook his head. No point in thinking about the man. With sleep finally returning, he turned off the lights and went back to the guest room. He would have a long day ahead and should be prepared.
(And Malik hated admitting he was looking forward to it.)
Dream Catcher - Part 3
Did I mention porn was just a chapter or two away? Boy, if I had any idea...----------
It’s not that Malik never expected professor Ezio to have a normal life. However, after hearing so much about his accomplishments in life, reading so many of his books, it was hard to picture this incredible man coming home and being attacked by children.
The professor had just unlocked the door when two small kids darted up from the floor where they had been playing and ran to the man, hugging him tightly across the legs. It was the sort of thing he wouldn’t have imagined in a million years, although it was a cute image.
Malik loved kids. Always had. It was natural, after all, since he grew up taking care of Kadar. Marcello was too shy to get too close to him, but Flavia was too lively to stay put and in less than ten minutes she had brought down to the living room a bunch of dolls, books and some paper collection she seemed to enjoy and wanted to show him everything. She didn’t rest until she had talked about all the books her father had bought to her. (Things like “my first history book” that brought many memories back from when he used to buy them for his young brother as well. Sadly Kadar never took interest in history as he did, leading him to stop trying getting him into it eventually.)
But all too soon Ezio ushered her to bed and Malik was left alone in the big living room. He came back later, apologizing for her enthusiasm, but Malik shook his head and smiled.
“I have a younger brother. Had to take care of him since I was small. I grew fond of kids.”
As Ezio made himself comfortable on a reclinable armchair next to him, he took the time to look around. The living room was nothing short of amazing. It was as big as Malik’s entire apartment. A huge white fireplace stood tall in one of the walls. On top of it, hang on the wall, was an equally large TV screen. There was a couch - the one he was sat on - and two armchairs, all around a glass coffee table. Beneath it an old carpet with arabic patterns in dark red crossed from one chair to the other. On the walls there were many replica paintings, some of which Malik knew well, others he couldn’t quite remember on the spot.
On the far end of the room there was a small kitchen area, with a small stove, freezer and a counter with tall chairs. From the ceiling hang a horizontal luminaire with small holes for wine glasses to be placed upside down (some already were, but the others were empty). Everything about the mansion left him in awe and he couldn’t wait until he saw the other rooms, imagining they were just as grand.
His host kept him company and they went on talking for a quite a long time, until Ezio got up and went to kitchen when hunger made itself present for both of them. It wasn’t much later when a woman came in and removed her coat and left a few bags on top of a table.
“Ah, Sofia. Just in time.”
She was a beautiful redhead woman, probably still in her thirties, holding many books on her hands. Malik quickly rose from his seat and helped her with them.
“Risotto again?” She chuckled when Ezio muttered “But you love my risotto!”. Then she turned towards Malik and nodded. “Thank you. You can put them down on the coffee table, I’ll organize this mess later.”
“Sofia, this is--”
“Mr. Al-Sayf, I know.” After Malik put the books down, he came back and shook her extended hand, much like he did when he first met Ezio. “Altaïr came to the bookstore earlier and he told me what happened.”
Malik and Ezio exchanged looks. From there, Ezio cleaned his hands on a kitchen cloth and sighed.
“About that, it seems we have a problem here.”
The woman sat on the couch and looked from one to the other in confusion. He felt as though it would be a long night.
----------
Malik’s dreams, when not nightmares, were usually boring and non-significative. Most of the times, he was in the same room, with the bright light of the sun coming in through the only door to his left while he worked on some papers in front of him. They looked like maps, although he wasn’t entirely sure. Sometimes he didn’t even remember what he was working on.
These dreams, usually long and dull, were actually the ones he enjoyed the most. He always woke up the following day feeling like he had a good night’s sleep, which became something incredibly rare these days.
He also realized that sometimes those men in white would come and talked to him. One time, and only once, a man covered in red came through the ceiling door. As calm as he could possibly be, he got around the counter and helped the man lay down on some colored cushions outside the room.
Malik was no doctor, but he walked behind the counter again and got some bottles, a bowl, leaves and cloths (all with one hand - and by now he was used to the fact that, somehow, his left arm was missing in his dreams for some reason). The bowl he filled with water from the fountain on the farthest wall. Upon returning, he set everything down by the man’s side and began his work. First by removing the man’s bloodied robes and tossing them aside (he would clean them and sew the holes caused by knives and falchions later). He turned the man around (not without him muttering something that sounded offensive, but he was too busy trying to work to care) and cleaned the blood with a wet cloth. The man stopped talking, but still hissed every time he connected with his exposed back.
Malik handed a bottle of poppy for the man, but he turned his head to the other side, refusing it. He didn’t insist, but left the bottle there in case he changed his mind. After everything was cleaned up and the leaves pressed against the bruises, he bandaged his back with a thin beige cloth and turned him back up, taking care not to hurt him. As he did so, Malik sat on the cushions beneath the man’s head and let him rest on his legs while his back was against the wall. His fingers caressed the man’s hair gently and a nice breeze came in from the roof. When Malik looked down, the man was already sleeping.
He had never felt so peaceful before.
He woke up at two in the morning, still feeling the hair brushing against his fingers and the inner peace it caused him. That was probably why he couldn’t bring himself to panic over the fact that he was almost sure the man from his dreams was Altaïr. If they were trying to tell him something, he was completely lost after that. Sighing, he got up and wandered through the house, returning to the living room.
Finding the lights on was a bit surprising, but even more so was finding Sofia doing something in the kitchen area. As soon as he entered, she looked back at him.
“Having trouble to sleep as well?”
Malik approached the counter and sat on one of the tall chairs. “Something like that.”
“Right. The dreams.” She turned back to the stove and removed the kettle. “Would you like some tea? I have a difficult relationship with sleep as well and it helps a lot.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled and filled two cups with tea bags with hot water.
“I’m not like you and Ezio. I never had the dreams.”
He looked at her with interest. By this time, he was so used to meeting people talking about weird dreams that finding a normal person for once felt completely out of place.
“I don’t know if it has something to do with you because of your ancestry, but I was never plagued with these... visions, as Ezio called them. But he suffered a lot through them, so I...” Her eyes were distant and Malik knew she was reliving some unpleasant memories. “Well, I wasn’t there at first. By the time we started living together he was at the end of his visions. They stopped entirely after Flavia was born.”
“They’re weird, make no sense.”
“He used to say the same thing. Honestly, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like.”
“They’re like...” He stopped. He didn’t even know what to say. What did the dreams feel like? Visions, sure. But from what? An alternative universe? Another life? Hidden memories? “They feel so real. I guess that’s the weird part. They just don’t feel like dreams.”
To his surprise, she chuckled.
“I bet. The first time I saw Ezio going through one of them was back when I was still in Italy. I was born in Spain, but my parents were from Venice, so when I turned 20, I went back to their hometown and reopened a small cafe bookstore they had there. One day, he simply came in, paid for a coffee and returned almost every day after that. We started talking and getting to know each other. Before I knew it, he was practically living there and I hired him as an assistant during his free time.”
Malik knew Ezio had spent two years in Venice finishing one of his books, but never knew he actually worked on a bookstore, even if it was part-time. He never included that bit in any of his biographies or resumé. What an interesting bit of information.
“One day I was cleaning the store after I closed it and I guess he fell asleep on one of the chairs because next thing I know he’s jumping out from his seat and running to me, like he was in panic!” Her eyes grew large as she continued with her story. “It was like.. It was like he was completely in shock! He grabbed my arms with so much strength and fell to his knees in front of me and started screaming how I could never leave him and that I had to stay with him. He was on the verge of tears when he hugged me like I was going to just disappear and told me I had to marry him. Would you believe that? Most people ask their loved ones to marry them, but he practically demanded.”
He blinked. “And you accepted?”
“Hell no.” Sofia snorted and moved to throw the tea bags away, handing him one of the cups. “I thought he was crazy and sent him away. He never showed up after that.” She took a sip of her tea, but put it down soon afterwards. He noticed as her expression became serene when she spoke next. “But I felt so bad for it. I mean, okay, that was strange, but he didn’t do anything bad to me. I knew where he lived so I paid him a visit. He apologized and explained to me what was going on.” Her fingers tapped on her cup.
“He told me he had seen me in his dreams and that we had been married there. He was calm and collected when he said that, nothing like what he had been at the bookstore. I didn’t believe him at first, but I thought he was just trying to be charming by saying cute things like that, so I took him on his offer.”
“And you married him.”
“No, no! Not that offer. I mean we started going out. Then we married.”
Malik drank his tea and looked straight at her. “But you make it sound as though you believe him now.”
“Because I do.” She finished her own cup and left both at the sink to wash later. When she turned back to Malik, she had a tired smile on her face. “Tell you what, talk to Altaïr. If you don’t believe the things he tell you, come see me at my bookstore. I’ll show you something that you may find interesting.”
He nodded, although confusion remained. She covered a yawn with her hand and waved him good night, returning to her own room. He should have done the same thing and returned to his own room, but couldn’t stop thinking about her story with Ezio. What if they were scenes from a past life? What would that mean?
He knew Kadar in his past life, he figured that much. Altaïr as well, as it seemed. But that dream he had before, the one where he patched the man up, something felt different about it. There was a connection there, as if he had known the Altaïr from his dreams for a long time.
He quickly shook his head. No point in thinking about the man. With sleep finally returning, he turned off the lights and went back to the guest room. He would have a long day ahead and should be prepared.
(And Malik hated admitting he was looking forward to it.)