Regret
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Altair looked at the horizon of Jerusalem with a soft sigh, the view from the roof of the mosque was beautiful, the golden sun shined down on the crowded city, bathing it in a light that was warm and pure...but Altair felt anything but warm.
His golden eyes flicked downwards as he watched the people below go about their daily lives so naïve of the war they were in the middle of...the assassin almost wished he were that naïve, that free. The golden eyed male frowned softly and shook his head at such thoughts; no, he had been born into the brotherhood, he had been born to be raised as and assassin to uphold the laws of the Creed.
Something he had already failed at.
The former master assassin brushed his fingers over his eyes as if trying to rub away sleep; the hood didn't reveal the weary look in his eyes, the tiredness he felt; he may have been spared death by Al Maulim, but in all honesty the demoted assassin wished he was dead already; and if he felt
Add Media
Style