livebythecreed | Shared memory/dream glitch - So Wake Me Up When Its All Over

Some time just before dawn, just before the first dim rays of brilliant sun begin to shine down upon them, sleep loosens it's once firm and peaceful grasp. Waking was almost as painful as sleeping, knowing that those images would continue to haunt him long after his eyes had opened, would carry on into each facet of the day to come. Willing his eyes to open was difficult, waiting for the realization that he was alone and that he was the sole cause of this suffering. But instead he was greeted by the comforting warmth of his love, pressed against his cheek and arm, hand still tangled in his hair, resting there as if to keep it in place.

Then something wet fell onto his skin and for a moment he thought perhaps it might be the coming of rain, but it lacked the icy chill and was followed too slowly by the next. Shifting, pushing his body upwards, taking in the sight of Malik reclined back against the harsh stone wall, sleep finally overtaking even his stubborn will. Tears leaked from his tightly closed lids and fell silently down his cheeks, sliding from his chin and down onto his lap where Altair had once laid.

Seeing them was more painful than any wound he had ever received, like a knife directly to his heart, twisted and left to rot.

Part of him wants to speak, to wake Malik from whatever images the nightmare is conjuring, but who's to say when he'll next see proper rest? Instead he continues on, pressing himself upwards and moving until he's taken up the place to the other, shifting until he's found a comfortable position and then reaching out, wrapping both arms around Malik and gently drawing him inwards, bringing his head down to rest upon his chest, directly above where his heart beats. Slender fingers stroke through thick strands, slipping over wet skin and attempting to dry it, whispering soft words of affection and peace in their native tongue.

Perhaps sleep is one of the only times that Malik could ever allow himself to shed tears anymore, their work, his duty to the brotherhood, it didn't afford him much time to mourn or deal with any feelings he might have locked up inside. So when he sleeps the walls come down and his heart grieves while his body and mind rests. He shifts easily when Altair pulls him in, unaware of being moved at all. Though the sound of his heart and the gentle words soothed into his ear are quietly echoed in his dream and memory like a voice from above and beyond. He is relaxed and warm, surrounded by comfort and peace. Kadar's ghost remains with him, but he's no longer awash with pain and guilt. His tears dry up and he slumbers against Altair's chest, lulled into a deep and honest sleep to the beat of his lovers heart.

Malik will get in a few good hours this way, so long as Altair remains holding him in his arms. Then, slowly but surely he'll stir, giving a soft noise in his throat to signal his waking. He blinks open dark eyes to realize they are no longer positioned how he'd fallen asleep, to listen to the rhythmic thumping of Altair's heart against his cheek. He shifts, lifting his head then to look up at the other, still a little groggily confused by the world. His vulnerable position dawns on him and he flusters, sitting up but not really pushing out of the embrace. He's moving just enough to straighten out his back and clear his throat to pretend like he hadn't just dozed off and softly cried in his sleep. Nope. He's still a hardass.

"...how long have you been awake?"

Early morning had transformed into day, the sun rising high into the sky to send heat spiraling down to the earth. Sitting still and simply basking in the warmth wasn't exactly something Altair was particularly fond of, especially considering there wasn't anything of particular interest to catch his attention. But letting go of Malik and moving from his current position to allow the other to sleep alone barely crossed his mind, choosing only to shift now and again to keep himself comfortable and to keep that pins and needles sensation from settling into his limbs. There was his phone to at least give him something to idly look at, to keep his mind busy and from wondering to more unpleasant things.

It's only once he feels Malik begin to stir that he places it down onto the pillows beside him, stretching a little bit as the other pulls away, before settling into a looser, more comfortable sort of embrace, keeping his love close. Even as he speaks as if nothing had taken place as if it had been a normal night spent together.

"It does not matter." A few hours, but it truly didn't matter. Malik hadn't slept in literal days, and the only way he was ever going to was by being near Altair. It was the very least he could do for the man who held his heart and soul cradled within his chest.

"Malik." Spoken softly, one hand lifting to gently cup the side of the other's face, basking in the warmth that seemed to radiate from every part of him. "I miss him too."

Malik can't resist tipping his cheek into Altair's touch, but the sound of his name has his undivided attention, searching the depths of those pained eyes. His brows knit at the mention of missing "Him" and he knows which him his lover is referring to. Kadar had been obsessed with Altair, completely starstruck, Altair was someone he looked up to more than anyone else, more than their father, more than even himself. He blames himself every day for bringing his brother along to such a dangerous mission, to allow his life to be taken from them because he was not fast or strong enough to protect him. There are many days he thinks, it should have been him instead of Kadar. And sometimes he wonders if Kadar was still alive, if Altair would've ended up with his brother instead.

"...I...suppose he was just as much a brother to you as he was to me, we all grew up together, after all." And he can't deny what he feels, they both had been through that memory along with their comrades.

"It is our fault he is not here. I live with that every day."

And every day since that moment, Altair had thought that it should have been him. It should have been him who had lost his life due to his own foolishness. Should have been him who lost his arm due to his own poor choices. Should have been his life that was turned upside down and torn apart and left in tatters. Yet he had been spared, had been thrown from the room relatively unharmed.

He would live with that guilt boiling inside of his heart for the rest of his life.

Kadar had been young and eager, talented and intelligent like his brother, a perfect younger imitation of Malik. But he was not Malik, and despite the way he looked up to Altair, the way he seemed to worship the ground he walked on and watched each and every action so carefully, there was never that spark between them. There was no sense of competition, no drive that forced them both to try and become better. There was no need, no knowing that there could never be one without the other.

"I do not have the right to call him brother." Sometimes he would still look beside him, expecting to see the both of them standing there. But there was no one, only himself. "The fault is mine. You tried to stop me and I did not listen. I thought... I don't know what I thought." Any reason he had ever tried to use to justify it now just seemed empty and hollow.

"Stop." His voice breaks despite himself as Altair's words drag up those painful memories all over again. He can feel the anger twisting around in his chest, clenching his fist where it's resting at Altair's hip. He doesn't want to feel those things anymore. He'd forgiven this Altair, the grown up, more experienced, more humble man that he'd fallen in love with. But in truth he never completely forgave the young, headstrong, foolish Altair. His lover wasn't that man anymore. He'd learned his lesson, he'd improved, he'd surpassed everything that he used to be. He was a Grand Master now and he'd earned it all on his own, he'd redeemed himself through a lot of hard won battles and work. And yet, there was still a dark part of his soul that could still be angry about his past actions and all the loss he'd suffered from such a selfish and blind choice. A choice he'd forced upon them.

Though Malik knows he's just as much to blame. He could have just left Altair to his fate, he and Kadar did not have to follow him into his mistake. But his conscience, his honor, his love of Altair would not allow him to turn his back on him and let him die for his stupidity. He cared too deeply for him, they were brothers in arms, they were best friends, and no matter how many times he'd upset him or angered him or disappointed him, he was always there for him, no matter what. They'd been together through thick and thin and he'd tried his damnedest not only to best him, but to show him he could be better too. That he could be the golden boy their fathers, their mentor, their leader, their comrades had saw him to be. Because Malik had seen who Altair was beyond his arrogance, the inflated ego that such praise from their masters and brothers had given him. He knew the man Altair truly was, who he could have been.

Who he was now. It had almost been too late, he had sworn to himself that he would never forgive him for what he'd done and all that he'd lost. His arm, his father and his brother, all in one day. But he'd simmered in his hate and realized it wasn't worth losing the one man who knew him best, who'd been through everything with him. Who was worth more to him than the world and his loneliness.

"Please, do not speak of it anymore, Altair." He doesn't want to drag up all those ugly feelings again. He'd put them to rest.

"You weren't thinking, but you aren't that man anymore, you and I are both as much to blame for what happened, I already told you as much. Please... just let it rest." They both need to somehow forgive each other and themselves still. They need to stop carrying around such pain. And the whispers of his brothers Ghost want them to forgive themselves and let it go. He knows Kadar would not want them to suffer for so long for him.

Altair is aware that there is a careful line he should walk when it comes to Kadar. Knows that it will always, always pain Malik far more than it does him, that Malik has lost far more than he will likely ever have to endure. He just as acutely aware that most of that loss and most of that suffering was a direct cause of his own stupid, selfish decisions more than any of Malik's misplaced love or affection for him.

Altair had hurt Malik more than enough for a lifetime, he should let this go, should let it drop and let them both move on.

But he doesn't want to let Kadar go, doesn't want to go the rest of his life without ever speaking the other man's name, suffering the pain of the loss in silence. Doesn't want his memory to fade and be forgotten, and there was no one else but Malik who carried his memories.

Bright eyes fell closed as he eased himself inward, forehead coming to rest against his loves gently, taking in a series of deep, slow breaths, relishing in the closeness and comfort.

"I want to speak of him." Voice soft, barely above a whisper, as if he's utterly afraid that his words won't be accepted or that they'll only draw forth more anger. "He used to tease me, used to tell me my crush on you was showing." He often wondered what Kadar would think of them now, of how proud he would be of his brother for becoming Dai. If he would be happy and accepting of what they had found in one another. "At night I dream of him. Dream of us. We are in my room in the castle, and him and I are playing chess. I remember I always allowed him to best me. And you are in the corner laid out upon my pillows. They still smell like you, even now."

Oddly enough it's the change of subject to Kadar, rather than speaking of the incident that took him from them, that helps to cool those ugly feelings in his belly. It still hurts to talk about him, but remembering the fonder times did help to soothe the ache. They should keep the good times in their memory more than his loss. He's somewhat surprised to hear that Kadar seemed to know that Altair had a crush on him, maybe at the time it was only to tease, but then... Kadar had watched Altair closely, the pair of them talked more about things Malik never had interest in. Maybe they had shared this one truth at some point.

"...I suppose, being there with the pair of you near me, it was the only time I could honestly rest. When I knew that the two people I loved most were safe and not far from me."

And though he doesn't think Jacob would ever have the patience for Chess, he sees more and more how one could almost compare Altair's relationship with Jacob, to how he was when he'd been running around with Kadar.

"It's only fair, you two wore me out on a daily basis of course. Chasing you around all over Masyaf."

Edited 2018-03-25 11:31 (UTC)

Once upon a time, Altair may have gone to Kadar for advice. After all, the younger assassin was someone who he knew he could trust, even with deep, dark secrets such as these. Someone who would not judge his desires too harshly. Kadar just hadn't been the type. He had been too gentle and kind-hearted.

From a young age, he and Malik had always been friends, but when that kinship turned to rivalry, he had at first been unsure if he had done something to make Malik dislike him. And so he had turned to Kadar to try and figure out how to deal with it.

Just like he had turned to Kadar once he grew a little older and realized that what his feelings for Malik truly were. That the reason why he always saw the other's face with every person, he tried to be intimate with. Kadar had laughed and called them both stupid and had tried his best to give advice. None of which actually worked.

If Kadar were here now, he would probably tell them they were still both stupid.

"Kadar would always say that you needed your rest. That we wore you out trying to look after us and keep us out of trouble." It would probably be worse now, with Jacob in the mix. The three of them would likely be akin to peas in a pod.

"I still have the set that he gave me. I have thought about bringing it here so that we both might enjoy it."

They are that different; where Edward had seemed to view the creed as nothing more than a guideline, something that he could twist to fit his own meaning, Altair had chosen to almost stringently adhere to it, fearing that straying even the slightest bit might bring about further ruination. But even he could see where ironies lie within the words, where they contradicted themselves. Perhaps it wasn't simply that one path was right and one was wrong, perhaps it was that neither was truly right or wrong. It had taken him far longer than he wished to admit to realize this compromise.

Judging further would only bring about more pain, and they had both suffered far more than anyone deserved. There was understanding to be found that he had allowed his eyes to open and see it.

"We have both lost much." Even if he felt that he couldn't (shouldn't) speak of it, the loss of Kadar would always weigh heavily upon his heart. "Your friend was a good woman. I would have been proud to know her, to call her sister."

"You could've called her brother as well, she'd lived much of her life as James Kidd, I'm sure she'd be just as happy being one of the guys, happier even." Even if he might've saw her differently knowing the truth, that she was a woman besting them all in a world dominated by men. She was a good friend, a mentor, a brother, a sister, and he loved her in his own way. He only wished there could have been more, that their lives hadn't torn them apart, that he'd been smarter or less foolish in his pursuits, that he could've realized things sooner and saved her or her child. There's so much regret wrapped up in much of his life, so many things he wish he could've done differently or known how to change, to be given the chance to change it for the better.

"She was a good assassin. I can't say that for myself. I'm not even a very good pirate, if I'm honest." another swig, "Sure, I sail a ship I stole from the navy, I fight them on the regular and plunder and have an obsession with gold and glory, but you know... I never wanted to be a pirate. I only did it so I wouldn't be killed outright."

Jacob knows that Edward isn't quite okay yet. None of them are yet, none of them will be for a while, he's certain of that. But Edward has made him realise he's much better with the pirate than alone, and he's glad Edward feels the same way. But the best thing to do to keep their minds off those dreams is do something: something other than drinking. Fighting is a good start.

He pulls off his cap, tucking it into a pocket.

"I'll give you one of mine, greedy." He offers, and then takes a last swallow from the tankard, getting up. "I'll even let you have the big bastards."

"Aw, now, you don't have to go and do that. I was jes meaning it's almost a pity there isn't more of them, they'll be in a sorry state without more help." He grins as Jacob takes off his hat and finishes his grog to stand.

"Course maybe a few of the others here will grow a pair and jump in for a bout." If they're lucky, there isn't that many other people here but their targets and them. The pirate slides out of his seat and stands, cracking his neck and his knuckles.

"You want the honors?" To walk over there and sass the lot that is.

"We'll have to be gentle with them." Jacob says as he pulls on the brass knuckles, stretching his fingers through the holes and then grinning a wicked smirk as he inclines his head. "Don't mind if I do."

There's a certain swagger in Jacob's walk as he heads towards the other table, and put of the corner of his eye the barman is already taking bottles off the counter so they don't get smashed.

"Afternoon gents." He says happily. "My beau and I were considering retiring for the evening and wanted to know if any of you would like to join us for some light sodomy?"

It's possibly the most inflammatory thing he could have said and a punch is thrown his way in less than a heartbeat, a chair crashing backwards as the thug stands up.

Jacob ducks out of the way and brings a knee into the man's crotch, before starting on the Blighter that comes to his friend's aid.

"Gentle?" A scoff, "whats that?" And a grin as Jacob swaggers over to the table and you can just see how all eyes turn to them and the tension thicken in their backs, shoulders and faces. The air is harsh with it as the other patrons watch to see what happens, wondering if they should run now or sit and enjoy the show. Edwards got the heavy stein he'd been drinking his beer out of and as a punch is thrown signaling the start of a brawl, the rest are up on their feet. The first man to go in for a swing at Jacob gets clubbed with the stein and goes down, clutching his face where blood is gushing out of his nose and mouth. He jabs an elbow back as another tries to get him from behind, catching him square in the solar plexis and knocking the air out of him. Said stein is swung round and clocks this dude so he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The Stein finally shatters over the top of a third's head and he'll toss the handle at a fourth coming at them from another side of the room.

It does seem like they'll get the rest of the bar in on this, at least, those of which aren't currently running out the door in fear at how quick the pirate and the rook are dispatching of the men. Edward rushes the guy he'd hit in the forehead with a beer stein handle, leaping a table to slide across it and kick him in the stomach to send him back into a booth with a painful crash and a yelp. Which lands edward solidly on the floor. He's dodging feet, rolling under a table to get on his hands and knees to get away but he's grabbed by the ankles and dragged out to be straddled and fists thrown at his face.

He takes a few, a left, a right, but he's throwing his own into the man's ribs and stomach, landing one under his chin but the bastard won't get off. If he can't get a groin shot or wind him he'll be made into mince meat. Hopefully Jacob gets his done and comes to his aid.

This is the best pub fight Jacob's been in for a while. Not only are there the original bastards, but some of the patrons have joined in too, and it looks like some people from the street. This is what they needed, some reason to stretch and get the blood pounding, something to distract them from those damn dreams.

He feels alive, really alive, as he elbows a man waving a broken bottle in his face, and as the man doubles over he thumps him hard between the shoulders, sending him to the floor. There's another bloke behind him, trying to go for the kidneys and he manages to get one punch in before Jacob turns, fist landing on the man's jaw with a satisfying crunch.

A moment later, he's backing away from a man with a cudgel filled with lead shot, a bloody nasty sort of weapon and Jacob has no desire to be on the receiving end of it. As the man swings it again Jacob ducks, grabbing the man by the wrist and using his own momentum to bodily pull him forward, bringing his head down to nut him as hard as he can. The man goes down, and Jacob sees stars for a second, before launching himself at another bastard. As that man staggers away, Jacob realises he can't see Edward. He was there a moment ago, on the table. He's being beaten black and blue, by the biggest wanker in the place, the one that had originally been sat glaring at the two of them.

He steps forward, moving unseen among the other men fighting amongst themselves, and pulls the kukri from its sheath. Silently, it gets pressed against the bulging throat, stopping the man in his tracks before he can land another blow on Edward.

"No one gets to pin him apart from me." Jacob growls, as the Blighter gets carefully to his feet, still cautious of the blade. He breathes again when Jacob begins to move it away, only to knee him in the balls instead.

Edward is thanking his lucky stars Jacob turns up when he does, he was starting to get a bit fuzzy in his head from it being beat about, it was getting harder to land blows and see what he was doing to the bastard. He shakes it off easily as the other rises and just as Jacob releases him to knee him in the balls, Edward is bending his own leg to jam his heel up and crush his balls a second time. He swears he feels something crunch or pop under his boot and the scream that tears out of the Blighter is so very satisfying. The pirate wanted to do some lasting damage and he's happy when the other topples to the floor beside him.

He's up quick enough, staggering a little and face bloody and bruised, but he'll live. The bar has cleared out by now with that final display, not wanting to fuck with someone with a blade. The pair of them better shake a leg though.

"I think we've done enough for one evening, lets get out of here before the blues are on us." He spits blood on the brute at his feet, still clutching his junk and bawling into the floor. He almost feels bad for him... almost.

Jacob knows what it's like to be hit around the head like that. He has no-end of sympathy for Edward, and he can fully understand why Edward puts the boot in again, even if it makes Jacob wince. But the big bastard probably wouldn't have stopped hitting Edward even after he'd lost consciousness and Jacob can't forgive that. The guy deserves what he gets.

The Rook shifts, moving to wrap an arm around Edward's shoulders to steady him. He's bloody and bruised and swaying slightly, and he's not about to let him pass out. This was meant to be a bonding exercise, not something that ends with one of them killed or seriously hurt. He's taking Edward somewhere safe.

"It does look like our work here is done," Jacob says, and the pair of them move to the door. He glances up and down the street, and there, just across the cobbled road, is a nice little carriage, parked up and unoccupied. That'll do. They need to get away reasonably quickly, after all, and there's no way Edward is running anywhere, or climbing any buildings.

"I'm driving," He says, before Edward can claim the honour. He really isn't allowed to drive half as often as he'd like. "Train or docks?"

It's honestly a damn good thing that Edward's used to being knocked down and knocked about, he'd been bullied and got himself into any number of fist fights over his youth. Piracy only meant that was more likely and though he'd gotten better at defending himself, and killing men, it served to make his skull that much thicker. A good sit and some rest, maybe something to drink and he'll be right as rain. He probably looks ten times worse than he actually is, if only because the bastard opened a few cuts about his face, which bleed more than anywhere else, and he's starting to look a bit puffy. But it's true, the brute was trying to pummel him into nothing and probably wouldn't have stopped till he was nothing but a stain on the floor.

He would've protested he was fine to run and jump and climb, but the truth of the matter is that he probably can't without falling and breaking something. So Jacob is doing the right thing by dragging his sorry ass to the carriage and taking the reigns.

"Whatever's closest." He murmurs as he sits, taking out a bit of cloth to wipe at his face and staunch the bleeding from his nose, lip and brow.

"All in all, it's been a good evening out. One of the best dates I've been on in a while." He leans over to put his head on Jacob's shoulder.

"You are so romantic." he sighs jokingly, then sits up if only to sit back and tip his head to fight the bleeding.

Jacob tugs the reins a little, spurring the mare into a gentle trot. No need to go too fast, because two blokes covered in blood are going to attract even more attention if they're rushing away from the scene. Best to go slow, at least for the time being. If his memory isn't too addled by the train explosion and the fight, then Bertha is going to be somewhere in Whitechapel. The Jackdaw, moored at Lambeth, is much closer. Besides, Evie will be at the train. She'll want explanations, and right now he doesn't want to give them. She'll hear of what they've done soon enough, she always does.

He glances over to Edward, missing the gentle pressure of the other's head on his shoulder, and half smiles.

"I do so like to give my dates a good time." He replies, worried about the blood. But Edward's nose isn't broken, the cuts will bleed, face and head injuries always do. Especially the way his nose is streaming.

"Head forward love."

He doesn't want that flowing backwards, it won't do any good at all if it ends up in Edward's throat. It'll stop, and be all the better for not ending up in his insides.

"Yeah, and you'd best make good on pinning me later too." A wink and a grin behind the cloth, lips still streaked with blood and red smeared on his teeth. He'll give a grunt when he's told to lean his head forward again and just use the cloth to catch what runs back out after a thick swallow.

"Fight like that? Some of the best foreplay if you ask me, my bloods still hot and me cock is nearly hard with the rush." Some might think it unhealthy, all that pain and violence stirring him up. He's going to need to wait of course till they get his face cleaned up, unless Jacob doesn't care much to wait. It'll be a damn good distraction from the whole reason they were in that pub, or why Jacob was blowing up trains without him.

"Why am I not surprised that got you going?" Jacob grins as he nudges the horse to go a little faster. Edward isn't alone in how he feels. The blood is hot and the body is primed and there's some animalistic in it, something about fighting and flight and fucking. He feels it too, to a lesser degree and if they weren't bloody and bruised he'd pull over right now to take the edge of Edward's arousal in the carriage.

As it is though, that blood needs clearing up just to make sure nothing nasty gets in there.

"I'm pretty sure I can make good on that promise anyway." He will too. He likes getting in top of Edward, fuking into him or sinking down onto his thick hard prick and taking his time on getting himself off. He'll happily pin him down.

"That is quite a compliment." He even manages a small smile at that.

"We do not drink tea where I am from, my first time trying it was in this world." He pours the hot beverage from a pot that has been steeped from a dried blend he'd found and hands it over.

"I have to say I really enjoyed it and so took to learning how to properly make it." Though of course, he had to do it the traditional way, not with those little quick brew bags they make. It was relaxing and enjoyable to go to a stand or a store and hand pick the blend himself, paying someone for their hard work procuring, drying and putting together the blends to taste. He had no idea the stuff was so popular or had so much variety.

A small dish of sugar is set nearby for Jacob, and a bit of milk, should he want it. He'll then pick his own cup up once more and drink the stronger brew, coffee, something he was very familiar with and needed if he wanted to stay awake and avoid the dreams. To which he's certain jacob's next comment is referring to. What he's not expecting is the second apology for his prior actions towards him.

"...I..." He knows how to be humble, he's just sort of at a loss here. "...I'm sorry if I've been harsh. I do not know you or what you've been through, I was only seeing with my eyes, not my mind."

Jacob's impressed. He'd always assumed tea was a pretty universal thing but that's in his time. Malik comes from a place not only thousands of miles away but eight hundred years or so back in time. Coffee os always something he's thought of as American, but clearly it's got much older roots than that.

"I've heard there's lots of different types," he says, taking the mug gratefully and pleased that they seem not to be foghting. Milk goes in, and he hesitates before giving in a dumping in a spoon of sugar. Evie doesn't need to know and honestly he could do with the pick-me-up.

And it's a good thing he does add that sugar, because otherwise he would have taken a sip. And then spat it all put again when Malik apologised. He's not expecting it, not so hinestly, not in a way that makes it impossible to deny that the man really means it. But Jacob knows that he doesn't deserve it. Everything Malik has said, Jacob has deserved.

"I... thank you. But I think I needed the wake up call." He brings the cup to his lips and takes a small sip, feeling the warmth begin to chase some of the drunkenness away. "I didn't have any right to act like a prick. You had every right to tear me a new one."

Malik is honestly very impressed and relieved that Jacob could realize these things on his own and come to understand why he'd been so harsh. Still...

"Perhaps. But... maybe I could've done it with a few less wounding remarks and a lot less assumption." He sighs softly.

"If I have learned anything about our apparent shared experience is that we all have been hurt, we all have had to fail and lose and find our way through it. Enough so that... perhaps you and I can act more like brothers and less like enemies." He sets his cup down, fingers settled over it to feel the warmth of the steam against his palm.

"...we have been hurt and have hurt each other enough, I mean." He glances up then at Jacob.

"Just... please, for the love of Allah, ask me if you want to cook something, or if you need laundry, so that I may at least be there to help you. And I would prefer you be sober when you visit next."

Edited 2018-02-16 23:32 (UTC)

It's true enough. They've all had to suffer, more so than they deserved more often than not. They can do with at least trying to make life less unpleasant for their Brothers. Even if at first Jacob found it a way to let off steam and relax, clearly Malik doesn't need that stress in his life.

Besides, Jacob appriciates he was being and arsehole.

"...I guess that's not too much to ask." Although it might be a little bit of a challenge, considering how much and how often Jacob does drink. He'll just have to work out in advance when he wants to come out here, and sober up beforehand.

"Will you... you said before that you'd teach me to cook. I'd like to know how. Not fancy cooking. Just useful things." One of the twins should know. And he can't think of a way to get Evie into a kitchen.

"Nothing fancy, I typically prefer very simple meals but I at least know how to follow a recipe if I want something more involved." He's not sure if he should be flattered that Jacob might think he'd know how to prepare more extravagant things.

"Take some time, think of something you wish to learn to prepare and I will show you what I can." They can do it together and if it's something that he's never heard of, he'll find a recipe, that's the convenient thing about more modern times and their handy devices. He's enjoyed learning things through google.

Edited 2018-02-17 06:11 (UTC)

Jacob is completely certain that Malik can do almost anything he sets his mind to. He seems to have the drive and desire to find things out, learn and master skills that Jacob doesn't have the slightest desire for. He's taught himself to brew tea, for goodness sakes.

"I think simple would do me just fine." Simple and quick for preference. But it would be useful, considering neither he or his sister really cook, and Edward tends to just shove things on a spit.

"I'll let you know." Maybe he can find out what they'd like to eat, their favourite dishes and go from there. He needs to know how to sear something, how to grill and all the rest of it. Techniques. "I'll probably come to you for anything harder that toast and fried eggs."

Shared memory/dream glitch - So Wake Me Up When Its All Over - REDUX

Altair and Malik

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Edward and Altair

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Jacob and Edward

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Malik and Jacob

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