(no subject)
Title: Arabian Nights
Character(s): Cesare Borgia, Aqil
Summary: Arabian nights were cold, but perhaps just slight warmth could be formed.
Rating: PG
Never did Cesare imagine that it was possible to experience such hell-like heat- not until he arrived on this land, where sand covered ground far and beyond. By night, it was almost freezing cold. Even colder, with the fact that he had caught on to some sort of disease.
He groaned when he tried to shift his head to resist, but the wet cloth still found its way to his forehead.
"You have a fever."
Aqil sighed as he moved to pack up. Even back in Syria, he had to deal with the man. At least he knew this land better.
Cesare's lips thinned, almost pouting for a moment. "This... place. It is inhabitable. And much too dusty."
When no reply was received, he continued, gaze caught onto the markings along the nearby desk. "It belonged to the Templars." Thinking too much made his head hurt, though this particular building was rather queer.
"...Why do you even bother?"
"I would have done the same for anyone else."
"Even your 'enemies'."
"Anyone else," Aqil repeats, opening the windows to allow more ventilation.
"You are odd."
He shrugs, and places a decorated copper cup on the desk, a lid covering the top. The condensation of water on its surface was a hint to its warmth. "It will aid your illness."
"You are leaving?"
Already his back was turned, ready to leave, but a tug on his sleeve held him back.
Not a word was spoken. Cesare had turned the other way on his side, leaving enough space on the bed for another. Soft footsteps led away, but soon stopped. The creak of the door was yet to be heard, at least while sleep and fatigue slowly drew Cesare into rest.
Character(s): Cesare Borgia, Aqil
Summary: Arabian nights were cold, but perhaps just slight warmth could be formed.
Rating: PG
Never did Cesare imagine that it was possible to experience such hell-like heat- not until he arrived on this land, where sand covered ground far and beyond. By night, it was almost freezing cold. Even colder, with the fact that he had caught on to some sort of disease.
He groaned when he tried to shift his head to resist, but the wet cloth still found its way to his forehead.
"You have a fever."
Aqil sighed as he moved to pack up. Even back in Syria, he had to deal with the man. At least he knew this land better.
Cesare's lips thinned, almost pouting for a moment. "This... place. It is inhabitable. And much too dusty."
When no reply was received, he continued, gaze caught onto the markings along the nearby desk. "It belonged to the Templars." Thinking too much made his head hurt, though this particular building was rather queer.
"...Why do you even bother?"
"I would have done the same for anyone else."
"Even your 'enemies'."
"Anyone else," Aqil repeats, opening the windows to allow more ventilation.
"You are odd."
He shrugs, and places a decorated copper cup on the desk, a lid covering the top. The condensation of water on its surface was a hint to its warmth. "It will aid your illness."
"You are leaving?"
Already his back was turned, ready to leave, but a tug on his sleeve held him back.
Not a word was spoken. Cesare had turned the other way on his side, leaving enough space on the bed for another. Soft footsteps led away, but soon stopped. The creak of the door was yet to be heard, at least while sleep and fatigue slowly drew Cesare into rest.