CLOSED.

[truncately]

WHO: Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad (avowed) & Malik Al-Sayf (truncately).
WHAT: Up to his own devices amongst preparing a project of his own making, Malik wanders the city looking for abandoned buildings, combing for resources. While he expects many things considered out of the ordinary within the realm of the city, he does not expect to fall upon a rather familiar site and

Comments

[avowed]

Days became weeks that would melt into a month already, and truly, Altaïr was counting each. Every day without answers was a day wasted, and having found nothing of true interest regarding an escape route save for the dirtied paper found with that other man - Ezio - there was nothing. Nothing left for any possible public to find, at least. To cage an eagle was to create a volatile, seething predator, and the longer his frustration was dragged out amongst strange rules and sorcerous taunting, the less his already-weak patience was tested. There were others within this prison, yes, but knowing this did not create any sense of relation. He did not feel as though he were "apart" of their struggle, as theirs seemed a much different conflict and they seemed people without a goal such as his

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Smoothing his hand over the parchment, he rolled it between his fingers in silence as eyes remained downcast upon the curves of dark lines and arches by the quill and reed upon the papers surface. Old illustrations, drawings and understandings of a city he had still been coming to understand as arrival had only been momentary before he awoke within the realm of Promenade and all of its curses and unnatural sins against god. Yes, it was like a fable of sorts, something that was often passed down by the tongue from parents to children and there children's children. The circle of understanding but the bizarre nature and outcome of such tales was myth, legend and now here, everything seemed so palatable despite the circumstances and the dai's unwillingness to believe the things he came across as real and factual despite the maxim of the orders and his own beloved creed. This was a removed circumstances when even the man who was so sickeningly dedicated to it seemed to question the legitimacy of everything be permitted but indeed, nothing

[avowed]

Malik didn't notice him at first. Or at least he seemed not to, instead fingering the parchment upon the desk. A desk which was to be his, confined to a bureau in the holy city rather than able to roam further, to bring about justice by one's own hand. Instead Malik was to collect information and give it to men more capable. Such as Altaïr himself. An unfortunate circumstance, though he and the other man had always held a mutual dislike of each other in their own reasoning, they'd also been friends at one point. Perhaps at a younger point, when judgments weren't shaped by more practical things but childish things. Neither of them could have claimed a "normal" childhood, being inducted into the order so swiftly, but of course there had been times when they'd reverted to a less serious disposition. As was inevitable. Yet it was years ago and irrelevant now, events shaping them into colder hearts. Assassins dominated by one goal, willing to end their lives for its success. Yes, perhaps Altaïr had regarded Malik as an equal at one point,

[truncately]

The assassins second utterance was unnecessary in his eyes as such a thing was obvious and in all honesty, the dai had not yet found the comfort within the bureau to even consider it anything but awkward, and against what he had been working for, for the majority of his lifetime. It was more a disappointment and while he would never hesitate to give his all to the order despite the circumstances, the wounds were still fresh and his brothers passing still significant within his mind, and likely always would be as there was a bond there that could not be broken easily. The whole entire scenario was something he never wished to relive within his life, never wished to remember yet at nights, when sleep met his eyes, it was all he could see, it plagued his dreams and called to him time after time and all he could see was the knife pushed into his brothers flesh, watching him fall to die amongst the sands and later, remember the blade meeting his own flesh over and over again, only beyond that another would complete its task and remove the