notambidextrous

Entry tags:

psl

[ there is no warning before Malik finds himself lying on the ground, head pounding, room spinning, and in an even worse mood than he'd started in. he brings his hand up to rub his temple, a small attempt at relieving the building pressure in his head, but it does little for him and he only scowls when the ache seems to get worse. when he opens his eyes, his scowl only gets worse.

he knows this place, there are subtle differences from what he remembers, but he certainly does know this place. this was not, however, the place he remembers being. he does not remember ever even having the intention to come here at any point in the near future and yet here he is. he is suspicious of everything right now, as anyone with a brain would be in a situation like this. the unfamiliar face looking back at him does nothing to help his unease. the man has plenty of features that catch his attention - features he recognizes as being eerily similar to his own and as he takes in everything around him, he can't help the slight narrowing of his eyes at this strange man.

just what in the world is going on here? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And do you truly think that I would suggest something such as this if it were not true? [ Tazim shook his head. ] You wear the robes of a Dai but more and more I am finding you cannot be of our order. Master Abbas has forbidden physical training for years. If you were truthful as to who you are, you would know that.

[ Tazim slid the first inch of his blade free of it's sheath- an obvious threat. He felt certain that he could take a one armed man; Dai, or no. ]

Where I received my sword is none of your concern. [ In truth, the memory of it made him ache. His mother's last gift, before he had returned to the Order. ] It is my questions you should concern yourself with. I am not buying your lies.

Master Abbas? [ well if Malik hadn't been convinced that something was wrong here before, he certainly is now. Abbas? really? why would anyone ever think that Abbas of all people could ever be Master of the Order. ] I think the heat must have gotten to you. Abbas is hardly the type of man that could ever lead the Order and his skill does nothing to make up for that. The Master's name is Altaïr and he has certainly not forbidden physical training.

[ the idea of Altaïr being the Master is still strange, as it would be if anyone else he's known for so long became Master, but certainly that idea is no where near as strange as the idea of Abbas being Master. at least Altaïr has proven himself worthy of the position. ]

Do you really think it wise to challenge someone who clearly outranks you? You claim that you have not trained in years, but I am supposed to feel threatened by a man who has shown no signs of being a decent Assassin. [ Malik only rests his hand on his own sword, not making any other attempt to prepare for an attack, should one come. he will fight if he has to, though he isn't in the mood for it. there are answers he wants and a battle will bring none of them.] I will concern myself with whatever I wish and I wish to know where you received your sword. Whether or not you choose to believe the truth makes no difference to me.

Altaïr has not walked these halls in two decades, Malik. [ This declaration hung in the air between them, heavy, solemn. ] You speak as though you knew him. [ Which of course, was impossible... wasn't it? ]

I said that Abbas has forbidden training. [ But of course, that did not mean he had not trained. No, he had returned to Masyaf looking for something- looking to serve the memory of his father, though he was still not sure how. He knew in his heart that the path would present itself to him, he simply had to wait for the right sign.

How was he supposed to know that it stood before him now?

He could see that the other was not going to back down upon the question of his blade, and despite that Tazim had shown naked steel he was not truly looking for a fight either. A battle was foolhardy, discussion could glean knowledge. But of course, one had to give answers to get them. ]

This sword was my father's blade, and if you are wise you will leave it at that.

I know what you said, and your presence in here would suggest that you have followed that command or you would be out there training right now, not sitting in here allowing any skill you might have go to waste.

[ as for the rest of what Tazim says, he's not really sure how to respond. two decades since Altaïr has been here? that makes no sense. he spoke to Altaïr earlier today here, in the halls of Masyaf and certainly the few hours since that time did not equal two decades. there are very few possibilities as to what can be going on here, one of those few being that Altaïr had done something with the Apple to cause this situation. he pushes that idea to the back of his mind for now, though. he doesn't know enough about that thing to say that it had anything to do with this for certain. ] I know Altaïr well and I know that he was here today.

[ and then there's that last part. it's possible that Tazim's father and Malik have identical swords, but it doesn't seem very likely. ] A man who would threaten me so carelessly has no business speaking of what makes someone wise. What is your father's name?

[ More and more Tazim was beginning to suspect that the other was addled of the mind, or perhaps it was a medical condition that caused the other to be delusional. If Malik had been older, he would have suspected it was simply a matter of age- a mental lapse. But no, Malik appeared to be in the prime of his life. Older than him, for certain, but not old enough to be losing his wits. ]

Then you know a ghost, or another Altaïr. As I said, it has been two decades since he abandoned this place. [ Tazim shook his head. ] Named a traitor to the Order, after he murdered his wife. [ Tazim of course, knew that this was not the true version of this story- his mother had told him the truth. But to keep under Abbas's radar, Tazim had to be careful what he said, and to whom he said it.

He smiled though, at the other's insult. ] If you mistake the motion for carelessness then you severely underestimate me already, to your detriment.

[ Tazim knew that he should not speak his father's name, not here. Malik would note the way Tazim took a careful glance around. He was certain the castle was empty due to the heat, and yet... one never could be certain. ] You share his first name. [ Tazim spoke lowly, so that his voice travelled no further than the two of them. ] His name was Malik Al-Sayf.

[ And he had been murdered before Tazim had ever had a chance to know him, meet him. ]

[ silence. silence is the only answer Malik can muster for a good, long minute. is this some kind of strange joke? he doesn't have a son. he would know if he had a son. and aside from that, Altaïr would never murder his wife-- if he had one. but just as Malik is certain he doesn't have a son, he's certain that Altaïr doesn't have a wife. he isn't so concerned with that, though. that matter can be sorted out later. the part where Tazim thinks Malik is his father needs to be cleared up first. ]

I don't think I have underestimated you at all. Only a fool would claim to be the son of a man he doesn't even have a physical description of.

[ Tazim studied the other's reaction carefully, ever alert to their mutual uneasiness, the disbelief and stubborn refusal for mutual acceptence blanketing them and seeming to block out all the rest of the world as well. ]

I have a physical description. [ His response was icy; here was ground sacred to Tazim- even the Brotherhood was second to the memory, the honor of his father. It was clear in the way Tazim's shoulders drew up, tensing visibly that this was something deeply important to him-

And a wound that he had perhaps not recovered from.

Physical description of Malik or no, the other actually being there was so farfetched, so impossible that was it really any surprise Tazim denied it? His father was long dead- he had never met him for himself, and even if he was still alive he would have been an old man. Not anything like Malik, standing directly before him. ]

You know nothing, and I will tolerate you insulting me, or the memory of my father.

Edited 2012-10-14 01:18 (UTC)

Then tell me, what did this Malik Al-Sayf look like if he did not look like me? I have never heard of this man who shares my exact name.

[ it's fairy obvious that this is something that Tazim feels strongly about and that he genuinely believes Malik is his father, but it still makes no sense. he can't even begin to make sense of this one way or the other. there is that one possibility he'd thought of before-- that this is the work of the Apple, but even then it makes essentially no sense.

and then there's the matter of "the memory of" Tazim's father. it might explain why Malik has never heard this man who shares his name if he's dead. if he were an unremarkable man there would be no reason for him to have ever heard of his namesake, but that doesn't explain the rest of it. the sword, the looks-- if it weren't so far fetched it'd be easy to believe that this is his son. ]

Your name? [ This truly threw Tazim off. That niggling sense of familiarity rose again- but this time it wasn't so easily pushed down, forgotten, or pushed off as coincidence. ]

You can't be. [ He insisted it now with an edge to his voice, the denial he was feeling present in his tone. ] It's impossible. My mother-

[ This was all becoming too personal, and Malik was drawing more out of Tazim than the younger man was willing to share. He steeled himself once more, pushing down all of the tumultuous feelings that the memories of stories about his father stirred. ]

Enough. My father is dead, I have seen his grave. [ An unmarked thing- that he had one at all was a surprise, Malik was lucky that while the Assassin's had chosen to follow Abbas, they had not allowed him to desecrate his father's body- or so he had heard. It was possible that those he had spoken to of the matter were lying, but Tazim preferred to take their words for truth. It was far better than the thought of the alternative; to think that not even his father's bones could rest. ] No matter how you seem to look like him- claim to share his name. It is not possible. Malik Al-Sayf has been dead for twenty years. Died the day Grand Master Altaïr fled, and never looked back.

I am not claiming to be your father. I am well aware of the fact that I have no son. [ he wants one, yes, wants to have a family of his own, but does he have one? no, as far as he is aware he doesn't. and even if he did he couldn't be as old as Tazim must be. hearing that the description of Tazim's father and Malik really do seem to match us enough to make him doubt his own words, though. but there's no way-- there's really no way. if this boy has been alive for at least twenty years, that would place them at around the same age and Malik knows he couldn't have fathered a child when he was six. at six years old he was busy wandering from place to place taking care of Kadar and trying to find Masyaf after the death of their parents. ]

[ for once in his life Malik really isn't sure what to say. none of this adds up at all. Altaïr abandoning the Order, Abbas becoming Grand Master, and the possibility of Malik somehow having a son... What ca he say? How does he even begin to figure out what's going on. ]

What year is it?

[ it's a strange thing to think that he could have been taken forward in time, but if the Apple can create multiples of a person and take control of men's minds, it doesn't seem farfetched that it can do that. and no matter how strange it might be to think that he is in the future, it would explain somethings. explain somethings and reveal some other unpleasant things, that is. because if what he's thinking is true it means the future is hardly bright and some serious problems will arise during Altaïr's time as Grand Master. and depending on the answer, he may just kill Altaïr himself for getting him into this mess when it's all over.]

And yet you claim his name as your own. [ There was something strange, and suspicious going on here- though what it was, he still did not understand. Could not put his finger upon what the answer to this bizarre puzzle was.

Malik Al-Sayf was hardly a common name- it was his own, a name he shared with his father. His father who had known Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, and walked at his side as his right hand man. As this man claimed to be. Clearly he was delusional, or-

Or something he did not understand was at work here. ]

1246. [ The response was dry, and even, but his eyes were sharp upon the other. Studying for the tiniest of responses- looking for even the slightest responses. Anything that might have provided further evidence to solve this puzzle. ] Will you ask me what season it is next? I should hope that would be obvious enough, even to you.

Edited 2012-11-22 09:59 (UTC)

Watch your tongue, boy, and think before you speak. If the answer were so obvious, I would not have asked the question.

[ he's getting more and more irritated by the second. the year 1246 is nearly fifty years in the future for Malik and he's starting to get the feeling that he really is right. Altaïr must have done something with the Apple to cause this. there's no way Malik could have possibly skipped ahead so far in the future under normal circumstances and if he had lived those fifty years between the year he knows and this one, he is certain he would remember it. ]

Less than an hour ago the year was 1195. Altaïr was still Grand Master and the only Malik Al-Sayf I am familiar with, still very much alive. [ and if Malik is right, he is going to see to it that Altaïr does not get to live very much longer. of all the stupid things he's ever done, of all the ways he pisses Malik off even now, this is the worst. he could very well be in the future and he has no idea how to fix this. ]

If you wish to help make sense of this situation, stop thinking of things that should be obvious.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

psl

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject