alscyf

[alscyf]

When Altair struck, he’d expected retaliation.  When the lot surrounded the trio, hands faithfully resting upon their weapons, he’d prepared for an attack, and upon seeing the brash assassin thrown from the room, for a moment he’d actually – foolishly, thought Altair would return, waited to see a flash of white up high above them.  Insufferable as that man could be, he was not so callous that he’d leave his brothers in the hands of Templars with no effort made to find a way back and fight by their sides, yet in the end, that assumption proved little better than a pipe dream. The man had left.  He had left them behind to fend for themselves against an enemy outnumbering them three to one. With that flitting through his mind, fingers tighten upon the hilt of his short blade, temporarily imagining the steel beneath his palm was Altair’s throat.  The bastard deserved nothing less for for this – !

"Malik…“ It is but a murmur, barely a breath above a whisper, coupled with the brush of an elbow against the small of his back, but it’s enough to break that line of thought, pulling him back to the now.  In that moment, Altair went forgotten in favor of one still beside him. Kadar – he’s afraid.  Experience is not on his side in this.  Too many opponents, too dire the consequence of failure.  No matter how Kadar tried to hide it, there lurked a subtle quiver in his voice, in that nervous attempt at contact which served no greater purpose than the reassurance that his big brother was there.  Malik knew; he always knew, but this time – this time, there was no comfort to offer, no right words to make his fears disappear.  There is only the hope that, in the end, those fears will go unfounded.

"Hold steady, Kadar.”  A whisper to follow in their native tongue, that it might pass ignored by their enemy  The creak of leather at his back signals his order obeyed, just audible over the noise of men around them, and he breathes deep in an effort to take his own advice.  Distraction now could be devastating; best he keep his focus where it ought to be:  centered upon the task at hand, on retrieving the treasure for their master and, above all, protecting his brother so they both might return to speak of events within the Temple, the latter of which he’d deemed most important.  But of course he had.  Such pains he had taken to become a reliable source for the younger man, a stalwart guardian when he needed and faithful companion when he didn’t, and even faced with dire circumstances, that would not change.  That is his duty, after all, so until Kadar might slip away, out of the Temple and off to relative safety, he was staying right there, back to back with his brother, no matter the cost of his persistence.  “I’m right behind you.”

                            Surely Kadar knew that already.

Through rage and panic, the thought shines, a beacon overcoming the chaos racing in mind as tables turned against them.  The circle of armored bodies coiled around them held firm, ready and waiting for the first move, for that one perfect opening to strike at the two abandoned in their foolhardy superior’s wake.  Their patience grew thin, he knew, and with it grew the desperation with which he repeated a single thought over and over.  With his mind’s constant chanting, it became something more than that, more of a prayer to whomever, whatever might listen and grant him this one final wish.  

                              Should one of us fall this day, let it be me.                                     If you’ve one shred of mercy within you, please – take me, not him.

#شيء واحد تركت وراءها (drabble)

[alscyf]

WRITEWORLD Block - “It was time to kill again.“

Most days, the heavy stone created enough of a barrier to insulate the bureau from the bustling streets outside.  Every now and then,, a particularly piercing voice speaking nearby, or a hollering guardsman managed to penetrate the relative silence, but more often than not, it was awfully peaceful, disturbed only by passing brothers or the occasional patron seeking a cartographer’s aid.  Truly it is a space ideal for intricate work, requiring the concentration and steady hand unavailable in more vociferous locations.  So easy is is to lose oneself in such peace, drifting away with thoughts and whims which might pass unnoticed otherwise.  On the other hand, so too is there ease in distraction.  In silence, even the smallest noise seems to reverberate off the walls.  Perhaps to another, such would go unheeded, much like the wandering thoughts, but to one trained to fixate on the even minute details, it breaks through distraction like a wild horse and draws every nerve to full attention.  Usually, he is able to dismiss it a moment later, as the most common culprits were rats, pigeons upon the roof, or even a person outside the wall, sitting upon a bench and rubbing against the stone.  Commonplace, the lot of them.  They have become easy to single out and are often dismissed as soon as he notes them.  This, too, contributes to the fact that noises aside from the familiar stand out like a sore thumb.

It began as the tinny scrape of steel upon jagged stone, which is not an unusual occurrence; guards are just as capable of leaning against a wall to rest as the average citizen, after all, and he would have dismissed it as only that were it not for the location from which it came.  Too near the ladder leading to the roof’s entrance for his comfort.  True, it could be a brother coming in, and maybe it would have been written off as such, were it not for the accompanying voices.  Two men approached, by the sounds of it, each speaking the tongue of the Crusaders in a hushed tone, barely audible over the droll of the crowds below but enough so that every foreign word crossed the distance and reached him behind the dusty counter.  Though his understanding fell a bit short, one thing was clear:  their intentions were none-too-innocent, else they wouldn’t take the additional effort to keep quiet.  For all the good it did, as they had alerted the Assassin within.  

Dark eyes rest upon the doorway, watching for flickers of shadow, waiting for the slightest movement to give away the position of those potential intruders.  Should fortune favor him that day, they would simply pass by; maybe their conversation had little to do with the open entrance, or the fact that numerous hooded men had come and gone through that hatch, leading to some suspicion coupled with investigation.  Oh, it would be nice if that were the case ,but he is not holding his breath.  No, instead, he’s laying the compass upon the unfinished map spread out before him, reaching towards his waist for the short sword carried for situations such as this as he slips around the counter, silent as the ambiance before the arrival of the duo up above. Fingers tighten when the sounds hasten, voices growing agitated and eager, his own heartbeat quickening in response, for they would come to his level in no time.  And there is only one way to deal with a threat like that.

The rafiq slips past the doorway in favor of pressing his back to the bookshelf beside it, out of sight of the intruders and well out of mind.  When they stepped inside, he would see them – one of them, at least, long before either noticed him.  This would work to his advantage, if only for the initial one, and he needed that.  He needed the element of surprise to drive his blade through the throat of his foe; not for any lack of skill on his part, but for his body’s sake.  For him, there is no switching hands when his arm grew tired, nor was there a chance to wield a second weapon in tandem with the other; it was only the one arm, and no level of skill or ferocity would prevent it from tiring in the midst of battle.  An extended fight against one man was more likely to end in his favor that it would against two – oh, the thought kills him still to this day, still sparks a fiery twinge of anger deep within, but what can he do?  The answer is simple:  nothing, absolutely nothing that would prove any benefit.  This is just how it is now, and he is nothing if not adaptable.

#شيء واحد تركت وراءها (drabble)

[alscyf]

Headcanon:  Misc.

Favorite Fruit

Toss-up between grapes and oranges, both of which are plentiful in the region and readily available in the markets near the bureau.  

Favorite Meal

Sayadieh (fish with spiced rice and caramelized onions).  It’s another one of those dishes which is readily available, so maybe his favor has come from an acquired taste – but he does love it so.

Something Others Do that Gets on His Nerves

First of all, it’s safe to say that there are exceptions to everything.  On occasion, time is a factor that inevitably results in what, given another situation, might be considered aggravating; when one is strapped for it, one’s mind is generally fixated upon the pressing task at hand, as it should be.  In those situations, he’s usually willing to give a pass, maybe with a little grumbling here and there but little more. However, those occasions are actually far and few between – so when some lazy little twit happens through and simply cannot manage to put things back where he/she found them for no other reason than aforementioned laziness, it’ll drive him nuts.

                                                                                  TL/DR

The Longest He’s Ever Been Awake

Two days.  Shortly after the events of Solomon’s Temple, once all – his return to Masyaf, the resulting fight, the amputation, etc – was said and done, a number of factors came together to keep him from sleeping. Pain, both physical (at the surgical point) and emotional, worked in tandem; the slightest move of his left shoulder would send nerves firing with such ferocity, sleep was damn near impossible.  And, in the rare moments when he was able to close his eyes for a while, there came memories from the Temple which he’d prefer to forget.  He never will, but he’d love to.  It took two days for exhaustion to finally overcome him, pushing both pain and heartbreak aside in favor of the healing sleep he so desperately needed.  

#إلقاء بعض الضوء (hc)

[alscyf]

Headcanon:  Pet Peeves

People are bloody annoying.  In fact, it seems that very few things in the world have the capacity to annoy the crap out of someone than another human being with his/her words, actions, or habits.  Some things more so than others.  To name only one here seems…inefficient, in a way, so how about a list of the major ones (modern & canon verses mixed) instead?

People who are habitually late.  Once is understandable, twice is excusable with valid reasoning, but constantly making people wait, like their time is somehow less valuable than the offending culprit, is just plain rude.  

Groups of people who are obviously traveling together, and insist on occupying the whole bloody street (or sidewalk, as the case may be), particularly those who insist on walking as slow as humanly possible.  If the concept of get out of the way for other people is too difficult to comprehend or enact, don’t venture into public.

(Modern) Your and you’re are two different words, with different meanings and spellings. The same goes with there, their, and they’re. It’s not that difficult to learn which is the appropriate one to use, and if he sees them used incorrectly in a book, report, paper, etc., his blood pressure will rise ever so slightly.

(Modern)  The way people walk in flip flops.

Altaïr Er…People with an inflated sense of their own importance.

Those folks with absolutely no sense of personal space, especially those who, after seeing someone is obviously uncomfortable and wants them to back off, ignore those cues and keep moving just a little bit closer.  Not everyone – in fact, most people don’t appreciate having someone else all up in their business.  

(Modern) Lawn ornaments.  Just — why?

Adults openly and carelessly cussing in front of young children.  A slip-up or accident (ie. kid wandering in mid-sentence, before one has a chance to curb the foul language) is one thing, but knowingly shoving that sort of language into a child’s face is just uncalled for.

#إلقاء بعض الضوء (hc)

[alscyf]

Headcanon:  Pleasures

Just to name a couple…

             Malik has a niche in cartography; this is news to very few of his peers, and it certainly did not spring up overnight.  A talented cartographer has a certain brand of finesse, an artistic flare unique to others sharing the trade itself.  The combination of a steady hand, an eye for spacial details, and impeccable memory are the bare essentials, all of which may be learned, perfected in practice of other detail-oriented hobbies and trades.  Embroidery, woodworking, pottery, more traditional art forms (painting, drawing, the latter of which happens to be his personal favorite).  While he scarcely has the time for recreational sketching anymore, it’s still something he enjoys – and, the fact that he’s good at it adds a little something to that.

              Take a glance around the bureau, and one will find a chess board sitting near a corner, across the room from the rafiq’s counter, with two pillows on either side of it.  Chess combines a variety of aspects that he enjoys – in particular, the friendly competition and strategic nature of the game, so of course it is a favored pastime.  Unfortunately, recent days have not allowed for partners to play against; most often, potential opponents are either in and out of the bureau (with a job to complete, more often than not), or worked to the brink of exhaustion with zero interest in wracking their minds any further.  So, there hasn’t been much opportunity to play. Probably for the best, though, as his opponents tend to walk away with an air of defeat hovering about them.  

            This man is also a book worm extraordinaire (especially in a modern-ish setting).  It’s a nice escape, sitting down with a book in hand, but there’s a bit more to it than that.  Sometimes, reading the work of another opens the door to another perspective, or plants a seed in one’s mind that gradually grows into one’s own take on a matter at hand, in a way that may not be possible without that glimpse into the author’s point of view.  It gets him thinking, whether he’s lost in a fantastical world far away from his own, or mulling over a harsh point made by the writer.  

               His disability has taken a few things from him, but one it hasn’t touched is his love for all things physical.  Be it sparring, free-running, climbing (it may be a bit more difficult than it once was, and he’s had to make a few adjustments on his approach to tackling it, but he is still capable, thank you) or even taking a long ride on horseback – so long as it has him up and active, he loves it.  

#إلقاء بعض الضوء (hc)

[alscyf]

Guidelines

Instead of making a special page for this (because every time I’ve made a rules page on other blogs, I always end up hating the way it looks 0.5 seconds after I finish it), I’m just going to make a post here.  This will probably be more of a ‘what to expect on this blog’ kind of thing as opposed to actual rules, so let’s call it a Head’s Up page:

Credit for images and artwork that are not my own can be found on the navigation page!

As stated in my description, this is an independent roleplaying blog.  I am happy to interact with anyone who is interested in writing with me, whether we are mutuals, canon or OC, in the same fandom, or – not.  I just want to write, so if you’re up to it, let’s do this!

As it ALSO says over in the description, I have moved over from 'rafiiiq' because I'm stupid and deactivated the e-mail associated with that account, and then proceeded to forget the password to said account.  I've tried everything I can think of, and so far this was the easier option.

Minor godmodding is a-okay by me.  Like, if you’re writing an ask or starter and need my character doing/saying something specific, go for it!  If it’s a simple action – your character asks mine to pass something, it’s alright to assume it’s been handed over.  As long as it does not stretch beyond that, we’re good!

I tend to use small text and icons, on top of bare-minimum formatting.  This is not set in stone, and I certainly don’t expect my partners to use the same. If you need me to change the small text thing around for our thread or an ask you sent, PLEASE don’t hesitate to let me know!  I’ll be more than happy to use normal text (and will probably make a note of it for future threads/asks/etc).

Constructive criticism is welcome (and I’ll probably ask for it every now and then!).  Hate is not.  Hate sent to me will be laughed at, deleted, and the sender will be blocked.  If you cannot conduct yourself like a decent human being, you’re a waste of time and I’m not going to acknowledge you.  Sorry if this sounds harsh, but sending hate is just so stupid, cowardly, and childish, I’m am absolutely fed up with seeing it around.  So, yeah, just don’t.

Everything on this blog will be tagged, no exceptions.  I am 21+ and perfectly comfortable writing numerous kinds of NSFW material which, needless to say, will likely appear on this blog from time to time.  Violence, gore, smut, darker themes, and the like – it’s all fair game.  But, again, it WILL be tagged as (without parentheses):  NSFW //, (subject) cw, (subject) //, (subject) for ts, and (subject) tw.  Rarely will I reblog or post images that are of anything but my muse on here, so you should be pretty safe as far as that goes.  Still, the same applies in the unlikely case that I do post a thing.

If there’s something you want tagged, send a message and let me know.  I will not post your message (or, anything you send me OOC, unless it’s for a prompt or you specifically say ‘please post this’.  Mun-to-mun communication is between you and I, not us and the dashboard), but I will make a note to tag whatever it is in future posts.

Shipping:  While it’s certainly not the only reason I’m here, I’ll admit that I love to ship as much as the next person, provided the chemistry is there between our muses.  If you’re feeling a thing, don’t hesitate to lemme know!  Chances are, I’ll be 110% up for giving it a shot, at least.

Speaking of prompts, I love them.  Rarely will a day go by that I don’t reblog a thing, ‘cause I think they’re awesome ice breakers (and some of my all-time favorite RP threads have sprung up from memes).  So yeah, if I reblog a thing and you want to send something in?  Do it.  I don’t care if our muses have never spoken, I don’t care if it’s awkward – if you want to send it, send it.  

Replies: I am in the process of recovering from a rather serious illness, and the treatment for it saps a lot of my energy.  I’m also back to work, so it’s safe to say that my replies will be slow as hell.  Patience is greatly appreciated and will be extended to each and every one of my partners.

Contact: Chatting OOC helps spark my muse (seriously, there is nothing more that I love that screaming with my partners about our characters over Skype.  Best thing ever), so I’m certainly not hesitant about giving out my contact info.  You are, of course, more than welcome to contact me via Tumblr’s methods, if you prefer.  Otherwise, if you’d like my Skype or Discord handle, just shoot me a message!  But, I do ask that if you add me, please let me know who you are.  Playing the whole ‘creep or not creep’ game is only fun so many times.

I’m also really, really shy, so…if we’re chatting and I suddenly go quiet, it’s because I suck at conversation and probably have no idea what to say. Or, some kind of work thing has come up and I had to step away in a rush, which..actually happens quite a bit, admittedly.  Either way, I apologize ahead of time.

And that should cover it!  As situations arise, I will update this, but for the time being, it’s good enough.  I…think?  In any case, I’m looking forward to meeting you all, and if you have any questions/concerns/etc, feel free to send them my way!

#ضرب مفترق طرق آخ (guide)