Someone wrote in [personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme 2011-02-04 05:55 am (UTC)

Slop Day, Every Day (5/7) of [1/1]

Because Altair moved.

"Unless you want it gone."

And it was fucking over.

Over.

So, Malik blinked.

To see Moloch.

On the floor.

And blood.

And Officers.

And Altair.

"Yes?"

Altair.

"Malik."

"Get the fuck down!"

"Security 60FJ; Ibn La-Ahad!"

"All of you! On your knees!"

Altair.

"Shit!"

Altair.

"Malik."

Altair.

"I am right here."

Wordlessly, Malik dropped the ladle into the vat of mystery meat and only perceived his legs moving over to where Altair was—unnoticing of the uproar in the entire cafeteria, every entrance and window mechanically barred to the sound of outrage, not even the fact that he had voiced the damn martyr's name aloud, like he was drunk off his mind, like he was desperate. He did not realize Shaun and Bartolommeo, who were later joined by Desmond and William, holding the random guards and chaotic inmates at bay as he numbly tripped over Moloch's body and stumbled over to Altair, somehow calm, even when the room had become a warzone. Over and over, he only saw the other: not the twenty guards restraining him, not the idea of him possibly dying from some retarded attack, not even the sudden presence of the head wardens roaring at all of the fuckers to stay their asses.


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