A/N: Okay, so I'm desperately in love with this story now...
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If he could scream, he would have, but Malik’s voice appeared to be stolen from him at this moment. He tried to close his eyes, to simply refuse to look and see whatever horrors corrupted Altair’s mind, but even with his eyes shut and everything dark, the apple invaded his being. He felt some strange warmth crawl up his arm, unpleasant and unwanted, until it got to his head and felt as if he would soon be sick for no reason.
The images came next, entering his mind’s eye like a dagger to his heart. Slowly, at first, as beams of light that twisted in front of him, forming into colors and shapes until every little detail could be seen, the very essence of nightmares coming to life in his mind.
He saw images of burning builds with people still inside, screaming and crying out for help. He saw people killed and slaughtered in the streets, heard some sort of loud sirens off in the distance. The city before him was on fire, burning and sending smoke into the air, already black with a permanent night. It was of no place he had ever seen before and towered high into the air, as if trying to touch the heavens above. Trying, desperately, to get away from the hell below. People he couldn’t see were screaming, loud and clear, ringing in his ears. Children cried out as bones were broken and weapons he had never seen before echoed out in the night, in his ears, burned forever into his mind.
Malik shuttered and gasped, eyes shooting open in horror, though even with them open the visions didn’t stop. They simply mingled with his reality, showing him the fires and death as they touched his world, his home. The walls cracked and crumbled. Jars shattered. Thousands of voices spoke together, too loud in his ears, praying and crying and begging for death (something, anything, please, please! Just take the pain away!) and soon Malik found himself doing the same.
“Stop.”
He didn’t know when he fell to the floor, kneeling with wide eyes, streaking silent tears down his cheeks. The Apple still held in his hand, kept there by Altair’s grasp, forcing his hand closed on the golden orb. Malik’s head turned towards him, the visions and images distorting reality. Altair appeared with wings and horns, smiling down at him. A fire lighted on his held arm, burning him, shooting pain all through his body and he screamed, trying desperately to pull away. To stop these visions that were slowly driving him insane. Is this what Altair looked at every day? Is this the future that the Apple had shown him?
“Please stop.”
In real life, Altair was laughing. His grip tightening as Malik tried to pull away, refusing to let him go so easily.
“Please—stop this!”
It wasn’t until Malik’s body shook and he had broken out into a cold sweat. It wasn’t until he cried out and was ready to break his own wrist to get free. It wasn’t until he fell to the floor and sobbed that Altair let him go. Let his body crumble and took the Apple back, gently placing it back onto his desk where it sat, still glowing gold and humming softly; innocent.
The Master Assassin stepped forward, looking down at the broken Dai on the floor, smiling pleasantly at him. With a happy little sigh, he knelt down, wiping a stray tear from the man’s cheek. The only reaction he got was a slight flinch as his finger creased over tanned skin, but other than that, empty black eyes stared open and unblinking towards the wall, though Altair knew that was not what Malik saw.
“Ssshhh…” He whispered softly, petting the man’s hair. “I know, I know, it’s so horrible…” The words were delicate and calm, something Malik was unfamiliar with when it came to Altair. It sounded nothing like him, nothing at all, and that…that frightened him even more. Arms, stronger then they looked, wrapped around his waist and back, pulling him up off the floor to cradle him. Altair moved to sit on the bed, Malik pressed against his chest as he whispered soft-nothings to the limp man about how it was all going to be okay, how he’d get used to it, how, after a while, it isn’t so bad. And this, this above all else, upset Malik, because…because…something like this shouldn’t be okay. It isn’t right. And it’ll never be alright.
Re: Visions of Eden [2/?] (First part above!)
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If he could scream, he would have, but Malik’s voice appeared to be stolen from him at this moment. He tried to close his eyes, to simply refuse to look and see whatever horrors corrupted Altair’s mind, but even with his eyes shut and everything dark, the apple invaded his being. He felt some strange warmth crawl up his arm, unpleasant and unwanted, until it got to his head and felt as if he would soon be sick for no reason.
The images came next, entering his mind’s eye like a dagger to his heart. Slowly, at first, as beams of light that twisted in front of him, forming into colors and shapes until every little detail could be seen, the very essence of nightmares coming to life in his mind.
He saw images of burning builds with people still inside, screaming and crying out for help. He saw people killed and slaughtered in the streets, heard some sort of loud sirens off in the distance. The city before him was on fire, burning and sending smoke into the air, already black with a permanent night. It was of no place he had ever seen before and towered high into the air, as if trying to touch the heavens above. Trying, desperately, to get away from the hell below. People he couldn’t see were screaming, loud and clear, ringing in his ears. Children cried out as bones were broken and weapons he had never seen before echoed out in the night, in his ears, burned forever into his mind.
Malik shuttered and gasped, eyes shooting open in horror, though even with them open the visions didn’t stop. They simply mingled with his reality, showing him the fires and death as they touched his world, his home. The walls cracked and crumbled. Jars shattered. Thousands of voices spoke together, too loud in his ears, praying and crying and begging for death (something, anything, please, please! Just take the pain away!) and soon Malik found himself doing the same.
“Stop.”
He didn’t know when he fell to the floor, kneeling with wide eyes, streaking silent tears down his cheeks. The Apple still held in his hand, kept there by Altair’s grasp, forcing his hand closed on the golden orb. Malik’s head turned towards him, the visions and images distorting reality. Altair appeared with wings and horns, smiling down at him. A fire lighted on his held arm, burning him, shooting pain all through his body and he screamed, trying desperately to pull away. To stop these visions that were slowly driving him insane. Is this what Altair looked at every day? Is this the future that the Apple had shown him?
“Please stop.”
In real life, Altair was laughing. His grip tightening as Malik tried to pull away, refusing to let him go so easily.
“Please—stop this!”
It wasn’t until Malik’s body shook and he had broken out into a cold sweat. It wasn’t until he cried out and was ready to break his own wrist to get free. It wasn’t until he fell to the floor and sobbed that Altair let him go. Let his body crumble and took the Apple back, gently placing it back onto his desk where it sat, still glowing gold and humming softly; innocent.
The Master Assassin stepped forward, looking down at the broken Dai on the floor, smiling pleasantly at him. With a happy little sigh, he knelt down, wiping a stray tear from the man’s cheek. The only reaction he got was a slight flinch as his finger creased over tanned skin, but other than that, empty black eyes stared open and unblinking towards the wall, though Altair knew that was not what Malik saw.
“Ssshhh…” He whispered softly, petting the man’s hair. “I know, I know, it’s so horrible…” The words were delicate and calm, something Malik was unfamiliar with when it came to Altair. It sounded nothing like him, nothing at all, and that…that frightened him even more. Arms, stronger then they looked, wrapped around his waist and back, pulling him up off the floor to cradle him. Altair moved to sit on the bed, Malik pressed against his chest as he whispered soft-nothings to the limp man about how it was all going to be okay, how he’d get used to it, how, after a while, it isn’t so bad. And this, this above all else, upset Malik, because…because…something like this shouldn’t be okay. It isn’t right. And it’ll never be alright.