They never wanted to be seen, or their absence noticed, so together they’d leave when the other novices lay curled up deep in their sleep. Together they’d lay on the riverbank and watch the dancing lights of the fireflies as the quiet waters reflected them amongst every other star. Once in a while, the small fishes would break the water surface, and quick ripples would travel the river; other times, the soft breeze would catch malik’s attention and he’d watch the tall grass swaying with the wind to the sound of the loud cicadas. It was always a joy when they got the chance to visit places like these on missions. Water fresh as they weren’t used to and fireflies fluttering around the watery mirror. To any youngster from Masyaf, these were rare sights.
Sometimes, Malik would peel clothing from his body and convince Altaïr (who would reluctantly join him) to do so as well, and together, stark naked, they’d dip into the shallow water. Both of them would walk until the water reached just above their knees, which was probably the tallest it could get there; but still, it was just enough to send Altaïr’s body shivering, and the older man knew better to know it was from the sheer thought of being confined by the water and not from the coolness of the water or the crisp air against his naked skin.
Malik would tease him and splash him, and Altaïr would always be too proud to admit out loud how much he disliked getting splashed.
However, the both of them knew that what truly enchanted Altaïr as they lay still wet (and in innocent nudity) on the grass by the water and the mosquitoes fed on their legs. What truly captivated him were the fireflies dancing around the water, the grass, and around them. The young eagle would rest on his back, entranced by the lights, and Malik would roll over to face him. The touches of moonlight kissed Altaïr’s face and it took Malik’s breath away. Altaïr’s gaze was on the fireflies and his back on the grass, Malik looking at Altaïr as he watched the lights and the conversation would die on their tongues. Silence gave space to the loud sounds of summer.
(Malik would watch him as he smiled blankly at the fiery insects, and he decided how much he liked that expression, despite how distant Altaïr could be. He liked it so much, actually, that for the briefest of moments, or sometimes when Malik let himself go, what it would be like to hold his hand. Run a hand over the matted brown locks of his hair. Say something nice to him if Altaïr wouldn’t stare at him so hard, if his tongue wouldn’t knot and he’d trip over his words. Maybe lay a chaste kiss on his lips and over the recent scar there.)
They’d spend hours like that, dozing into half-slumber until the first rays of light chased the fireflies into the shadows, and them to where their mates still slept as reality set in.
~
At times, when a soft breeze, the warm one that only happens at summer nights, washes over him, Malik remembers these times and where they ran away. He watches the rise and fall of Altaïr’s chest as he breathes, resting between assassinations to restore his ranks, and a bitter weight settles on his stomach.
It’s time he turned off the candle and got some sleep, he decides.
minifill! take me to the dancing lights
They never wanted to be seen, or their absence noticed, so together they’d leave when the other novices lay curled up deep in their sleep. Together they’d lay on the riverbank and watch the dancing lights of the fireflies as the quiet waters reflected them amongst every other star. Once in a while, the small fishes would break the water surface, and quick ripples would travel the river; other times, the soft breeze would catch malik’s attention and he’d watch the tall grass swaying with the wind to the sound of the loud cicadas. It was always a joy when they got the chance to visit places like these on missions. Water fresh as they weren’t used to and fireflies fluttering around the watery mirror. To any youngster from Masyaf, these were rare sights.
Sometimes, Malik would peel clothing from his body and convince Altaïr (who would reluctantly join him) to do so as well, and together, stark naked, they’d dip into the shallow water. Both of them would walk until the water reached just above their knees, which was probably the tallest it could get there; but still, it was just enough to send Altaïr’s body shivering, and the older man knew better to know it was from the sheer thought of being confined by the water and not from the coolness of the water or the crisp air against his naked skin.
Malik would tease him and splash him, and Altaïr would always be too proud to admit out loud how much he disliked getting splashed.
However, the both of them knew that what truly enchanted Altaïr as they lay still wet (and in innocent nudity) on the grass by the water and the mosquitoes fed on their legs. What truly captivated him were the fireflies dancing around the water, the grass, and around them. The young eagle would rest on his back, entranced by the lights, and Malik would roll over to face him. The touches of moonlight kissed Altaïr’s face and it took Malik’s breath away. Altaïr’s gaze was on the fireflies and his back on the grass, Malik looking at Altaïr as he watched the lights and the conversation would die on their tongues. Silence gave space to the loud sounds of summer.
(Malik would watch him as he smiled blankly at the fiery insects, and he decided how much he liked that expression, despite how distant Altaïr could be. He liked it so much, actually, that for the briefest of moments, or sometimes when Malik let himself go, what it would be like to hold his hand. Run a hand over the matted brown locks of his hair. Say something nice to him if Altaïr wouldn’t stare at him so hard, if his tongue wouldn’t knot and he’d trip over his words. Maybe lay a chaste kiss on his lips and over the recent scar there.)
They’d spend hours like that, dozing into half-slumber until the first rays of light chased the fireflies into the shadows, and them to where their mates still slept as reality set in.
~
At times, when a soft breeze, the warm one that only happens at summer nights, washes over him, Malik remembers these times and where they ran away. He watches the rise and fall of Altaïr’s chest as he breathes, resting between assassinations to restore his ranks, and a bitter weight settles on his stomach.
It’s time he turned off the candle and got some sleep, he decides.