[ac] Any Other
Rating: PG
Pairing: Altair/Malik
Prompt: roses
There were flower petals drifting from the rooftops, disregarded by the majority of Masyaf’s citizens, but when one happened to brush under Altair’s nose, he found that he was the only one to look up in annoyance. Though there were only a few, once he had noticed them, Altair found the floating petals hard to ignore, and even harder when he heard the faint and familiar snapping of robes in the wind overhead.
Abandoning his position in line at the fruit stand, he tugged up the hood of his grey cowl and ran alongside the low buildings, eyes focused on the rooftops (sometimes, it was much faster on ground when there were no gaps and spaces to jump over). When he was sure that he had outdistanced the runner, Altair started to climb, palms burning against the heated stone walls. Nearing the top, he braced his arms over the edge, feet resting on a window sill as he peeked over.
Malik skidded to a halt in front of him, just short of taking two more steps to use Altair’s head as a jumping point. The older novice frowned, hefting the large bouquet of roses he carried to rest on his shoulder, just as a man would carry a heavy weapon.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, sounding none too pleased.
It was a strange sight; Malik was in his austere grey robes with as much gear as a novice was allowed to carry - a sword and a belt lined with throwing knives- but the whole thing was terribly offset by the riot of bright orange, red, white and yellow flower arrangement he held. After a moment of quiet staring, Altair snorted.
“Are those for me, Malik? You shouldn’t have,” he said, propping his chin underneath is hands in a mock show of being flattered.
Malik raised his brow, the notion too absurd to be dignified with a retort. He lifted his boot, placing the tip of it against Altair’s forehead, pushing him slightly back without mercy.
“All right, so maybe not for me,” Altair conceded with a smirk, shifting his grip on the roof to avoid falling. “For who, then?”
Threat effectively made, Malik replaced his foot back on the floor. “It isn’t any of your business,” he said, irritated, but Altair did not even need to prod any further when Malik huffed, clearly frustrated. “But I doubt it would matter; I’m on assignment.”
Altair lifted himself up to sit on the roof proper, heels drumming against the wall below. He threw Malik a look over his shoulder. “Really,” he said, drawing the word out enough to grate on the other boy’s nerves and the need to explain himself.
“You know Master Husam? Well, he has been infatuated with some woman in the village since last week, and he sent a whole group of us to gather flowers, since he is too lazy to steal them himself,” Malik said, rolling his eyes. “Or, rather, I suspect he doubts his eye for floral beauty. Either way, this is ridiculous.” He swung the bouquet from his shoulder, sending a shower of loose petals over their heads and a lingering fragrance in the air before taking a seat next to Altair, legs crossed. The flowers were gently set aside, though it appeared to take some effort on Malik’s part to not throw them down instead.
Altair smirked. “You stole them?”
“I was ordered to get nice flowers, and there is a man down below who guards his garden jealously,” Malik replied with a shrug and a hint of a boyish grin. “So I figured they were worth taking. Whoever this woman is, she had better start courting Master Husam.”
Altair gave the bouquet a cursory look, noting the thin cloth wrapped around the stems of the roses and the corresponding spots of blood to the cuts on Malik’s fingers.
“You could have gone to the fields instead of going through all that trouble - they all look the same,” he pointed out.
To his surprise, Malik let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, you are lucky you do not have Husam as a teacher, or else you would have failed this assignment.”
Altair sat up, not caring if he was rising to whatever bait Malik had put out. He leaned over Malik’s lap and grabbed the bouquet, mindful of the thorns.
“I wasn’t aware that you were being judged to such a high standard. If that’s the case-” he began, holding the roses out of Malik’s reach. He pulled out the few that had gone limp or withered, tossing them to the ground below, despite Malik’s loud protests. It only took a couple of moments, and when he was done, Altair quickly rearranged the whole thing - flowering buds on the outside and the ones in full bloom in the middle, grouped into a pleasing colored pattern. Satisfied, he handed the bouquet back to a somewhat surprised Malik.
“No, I am pretty sure I would pass,” Altair said smugly.
To his credit, Malik took it back with just a mild look of disbelief and exasperation. He turned the bundle of flowers in his hands, eyeing them with an exaggerated critical air.
“I guess it will do,” the other boy announced. “But you missed one.”
Much to Altair’s consternation, Malik pulled out a thick-stemmed rose that was missing half its petals, though the ones that did remain were darkening at the edges, and Altair wondered how he had managed to miss that. Clicking his tongue, Malik used it to hit Altair’s face, the off-white petals soft and ticklish against his cheek and nose, until Altair was forced to pry the rose away from Malik’s fingers.
Unexpectedly, Malik offered little resistance, letting go with a crooked grin. He stood up, gripping the flowers lightly and nudging Altair again with his boot.
“I’ve wasted enough time,” Malik said, berating him as if the fault was his, and without saying any more, he took off, leaving Altair a little off-balanced and still holding the single white rose in the air. He was gone within seconds, disappearing over the Masyaf buildings with the agility and ease of a person who did not have a cumbersome bouquet to manage while climbing, or particularly mind, come to that.
With a huff, Altair lowered his arm and frowned at the flower in his hand. He looked past it where the other boy had been sitting, scattered white petals lying innocently to the side - all of which suspiciously matched the other half of the rose he held. He grimaced, if only to counter the way his face seemed to heat up.
“You really shouldn’t have,” Altair muttered, but he tucked it into his belt, already looking in the direction of the garden Malik spoke of.
He might as well find a way to say yes.
Pairing: Altair/Malik
Prompt: roses
There were flower petals drifting from the rooftops, disregarded by the majority of Masyaf’s citizens, but when one happened to brush under Altair’s nose, he found that he was the only one to look up in annoyance. Though there were only a few, once he had noticed them, Altair found the floating petals hard to ignore, and even harder when he heard the faint and familiar snapping of robes in the wind overhead.
Abandoning his position in line at the fruit stand, he tugged up the hood of his grey cowl and ran alongside the low buildings, eyes focused on the rooftops (sometimes, it was much faster on ground when there were no gaps and spaces to jump over). When he was sure that he had outdistanced the runner, Altair started to climb, palms burning against the heated stone walls. Nearing the top, he braced his arms over the edge, feet resting on a window sill as he peeked over.
Malik skidded to a halt in front of him, just short of taking two more steps to use Altair’s head as a jumping point. The older novice frowned, hefting the large bouquet of roses he carried to rest on his shoulder, just as a man would carry a heavy weapon.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, sounding none too pleased.
It was a strange sight; Malik was in his austere grey robes with as much gear as a novice was allowed to carry - a sword and a belt lined with throwing knives- but the whole thing was terribly offset by the riot of bright orange, red, white and yellow flower arrangement he held. After a moment of quiet staring, Altair snorted.
“Are those for me, Malik? You shouldn’t have,” he said, propping his chin underneath is hands in a mock show of being flattered.
Malik raised his brow, the notion too absurd to be dignified with a retort. He lifted his boot, placing the tip of it against Altair’s forehead, pushing him slightly back without mercy.
“All right, so maybe not for me,” Altair conceded with a smirk, shifting his grip on the roof to avoid falling. “For who, then?”
Threat effectively made, Malik replaced his foot back on the floor. “It isn’t any of your business,” he said, irritated, but Altair did not even need to prod any further when Malik huffed, clearly frustrated. “But I doubt it would matter; I’m on assignment.”
Altair lifted himself up to sit on the roof proper, heels drumming against the wall below. He threw Malik a look over his shoulder. “Really,” he said, drawing the word out enough to grate on the other boy’s nerves and the need to explain himself.
“You know Master Husam? Well, he has been infatuated with some woman in the village since last week, and he sent a whole group of us to gather flowers, since he is too lazy to steal them himself,” Malik said, rolling his eyes. “Or, rather, I suspect he doubts his eye for floral beauty. Either way, this is ridiculous.” He swung the bouquet from his shoulder, sending a shower of loose petals over their heads and a lingering fragrance in the air before taking a seat next to Altair, legs crossed. The flowers were gently set aside, though it appeared to take some effort on Malik’s part to not throw them down instead.
Altair smirked. “You stole them?”
“I was ordered to get nice flowers, and there is a man down below who guards his garden jealously,” Malik replied with a shrug and a hint of a boyish grin. “So I figured they were worth taking. Whoever this woman is, she had better start courting Master Husam.”
Altair gave the bouquet a cursory look, noting the thin cloth wrapped around the stems of the roses and the corresponding spots of blood to the cuts on Malik’s fingers.
“You could have gone to the fields instead of going through all that trouble - they all look the same,” he pointed out.
To his surprise, Malik let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, you are lucky you do not have Husam as a teacher, or else you would have failed this assignment.”
Altair sat up, not caring if he was rising to whatever bait Malik had put out. He leaned over Malik’s lap and grabbed the bouquet, mindful of the thorns.
“I wasn’t aware that you were being judged to such a high standard. If that’s the case-” he began, holding the roses out of Malik’s reach. He pulled out the few that had gone limp or withered, tossing them to the ground below, despite Malik’s loud protests. It only took a couple of moments, and when he was done, Altair quickly rearranged the whole thing - flowering buds on the outside and the ones in full bloom in the middle, grouped into a pleasing colored pattern. Satisfied, he handed the bouquet back to a somewhat surprised Malik.
“No, I am pretty sure I would pass,” Altair said smugly.
To his credit, Malik took it back with just a mild look of disbelief and exasperation. He turned the bundle of flowers in his hands, eyeing them with an exaggerated critical air.
“I guess it will do,” the other boy announced. “But you missed one.”
Much to Altair’s consternation, Malik pulled out a thick-stemmed rose that was missing half its petals, though the ones that did remain were darkening at the edges, and Altair wondered how he had managed to miss that. Clicking his tongue, Malik used it to hit Altair’s face, the off-white petals soft and ticklish against his cheek and nose, until Altair was forced to pry the rose away from Malik’s fingers.
Unexpectedly, Malik offered little resistance, letting go with a crooked grin. He stood up, gripping the flowers lightly and nudging Altair again with his boot.
“I’ve wasted enough time,” Malik said, berating him as if the fault was his, and without saying any more, he took off, leaving Altair a little off-balanced and still holding the single white rose in the air. He was gone within seconds, disappearing over the Masyaf buildings with the agility and ease of a person who did not have a cumbersome bouquet to manage while climbing, or particularly mind, come to that.
With a huff, Altair lowered his arm and frowned at the flower in his hand. He looked past it where the other boy had been sitting, scattered white petals lying innocently to the side - all of which suspiciously matched the other half of the rose he held. He grimaced, if only to counter the way his face seemed to heat up.
“You really shouldn’t have,” Altair muttered, but he tucked it into his belt, already looking in the direction of the garden Malik spoke of.
He might as well find a way to say yes.