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The hallowed halls and empty rooms,
Speak Volumes about your doom.
Men value other pleasures,
Much more than their own pleasures.
A spark,
In the dark,
But wouldn't you love to learn,
For what your own hearts yearn?
Unknown Location, Nightfall.
Savitar. That was his name. Al sah-him surveyed his target below, his own broad frame tense with anticipation and the thrill of an upcoming kill. He was known in the league as having a flawless track record and being the best the demon's head had ever trained, an honour in and amongst itself granted only to a chosen few. When you join the league you become someone else and Al sah-him was so deep into it that by now he couldn't remember who he had been before.
The man below was tinkering with something unseen to the assassin but Al Sah-him could make out the man's muscles moving in his lithe frame as he continued to work. All Al Sah-him could see was his back but he could already make out defined shoulders and narrow hips and a bead of sweat slowly trickling down a strong neck, he was going to be somewhat sad when this one was dead. He watched on for a few moments before setting to work. As usual, Al Sah-him moved as silently as a whisper on the wind as he worked and for the first time in a while he found himself thankful that his face was obscured by his League of Assassins garb, leaving only his icy blue eyes piercing the night.
Level by level he moved like a wraith. Silent and vigilant he descended the carnivorous canyon his target was using as a base, he briefly wondered how his target got here. He kept his weapon of choice (a recurve bow) clenched tightly in hand lest he drop it and give away his location. That, he knew, would result in him failing his mission and consequently lose him his life. The league did not tolerate failure, particularly not from him. Since he had joined the League of Assassins, Al Sah-him had built up a reputation for being cold and stoic, never acting out of rage or passion, many a member of the league claiming that this was why a bow suited the assassin so well. As he reached the point that he could go no further, Al Sah-him leapt off of his perch landing in a crouch as silently as ever, already drawing an arrow to kill the man in front of him.
But then his target turned around.
For what can't have been more than a millisecond, blue eyes met green, the latter clouded by... Something.
As suddenly as the moment had started, it ended. There was a bright flash of light, during which Al Sah-him thought he felt a brief pressure on his arm and in the next instant that Al Sah-him found himself disarmed and chained against the wall behind him as he felt the air in his body suddenly leave him. He groaned slightly, not showing any other signs of weakness.
"Who are you?"
Al Sah-him raised his head, Savitar stood in front of him, his black-clothed arms folded casually across his chest. Figuring that well, the situation he was in couldn't really get much worse, Al Sah-him took a moment to really study Savitar. Limp, dark hair flowed swiftly towards the man's green eyes and black clothes covered nearly every inch of what Al Sah-him, especially given what he had seen earlier, could tell was a toned physique. Savitar's most prominent feature, however, was a large scar that took up at least half of his face. Al Sah-him had gotten good a recognising the different types of scars, different weapons left but he could not place the cause of this scar leaving him to wonder just how Savitar had gotten it.
There was yet another flash of light as Savitar leapt forwards, landing so that he was just in front of Al Sah-him. As Savitar studied his captive, the air between the assassin and his would-be victim seemed to hum with a tension. One that spoke of things, perhaps feelings, left unsaid.
Savitar took a step forward. "I said," his voice was little more than a whisper now but it seemed to echo, filling the entire space the two were stood in. "Who. Are. You?" Each word was punctuated, deliberate purposeful. This only seemed to add to the earlier tension, swirling in the air and making the air heavy with secrets. Al Sah-him clenched his Jaw, refusing to speak and trying to dislodge a dagger concealed in his belt.
Something about this movement must have caught Savitar's eye, however, as there was even more lightning. In the next moment, Savitar stood flush against him, pinning his arm to the wall. One of Savitar's hands settled on his waist and their eyes met for the second time since Al Sah-him had breached Savitar's lair. "You're eyes are stunning." Savitar's voice breathed into his ear, "I want to see your face."
Savitar's methodical fingers brushed along the seam where flesh met fabric slowly and carefully a couple of times. To Al Sah-him, it seemed as though the man was conflicted, perhaps even scared. As if throughout the other man's life he'd been rejected and has lost everything he had at one point. Al Sah-him watched a Savitar took a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself. A second later, the hand was back with more conviction and Al Sah-him felt his breath hitch as he felt it.
A spark.
Hands remove the piece of material covering the lower half of his face before pushing down his hood. Any vulnerability Al Sah-him believed Savitar to have vanished the second he smirked. "You're kind of hot actually." Savitar leant forward on the balls of his feet, "So. Who wants me dead?" His tone was light, inquisitive. "Is it the Wests? that wouldn't surprise me." Any lightness left his tone, resignation taking its place.
Savitar pressed even closer to him yet Al Sah-him did find himself uncomfortable. In fact, he was overtaken by a strange impulse to kiss the other man. "I'll be a God soon you know?" Savitar remarks casually, turning to return to his earlier work.
Al Sah-him isn't aware of making the decision, he isn't even sure why it happens but he still hears himself growl out. "Not if I kill you first."
If he was in any other situation, Al Sah-him might have found Savitar's next actions comical. Savitar freezes mid-step before spinning lightly on the balls of his feet to face him. Savitar regarded him for a few moments and then clapped, the sound echoing throughout the canyon. "So!" Savitar exclaims jubilantly. "You can speak, and here I thought you might be a mute." Savitar shrugged, "It's certainly not the first time I've been wrong." Savitar's gaze grows distant and Al Sah-him thinks he's lost himself in a memory.
Savitar's head swivels to face him and they end up staring at each other. Al Sah-him found his mind going in directions he doesn't even want to consider, he's become distracted by the younger male and doesn't even notice when he moves but he feels it, oh... how he feels it when Savitar's lips brush a particular spot on his jaw. It takes all of his strength not to collapse in that very moment.
"You think you're doomed." For a brief moment, Savitar's voice surprises him, the younger man is back to speaking in his soft tones. He almost misses when Savitar elaborates on his earlier statement. "You think you're doomed if you fail to kill me." Savitar lets out a short, harsh laugh and Al Sah-him, not understanding, shoots him a confused look. "I've heard... rumours about how the League operates. Of course, I've never had a source to confirm these rumours."
Savitar's fingers now rest on his shoulders as his thumbs trace the edges of Al Sah-him's shoulder blades and one of Savitar's feet are wedged between his. "I could make you a god too, you know, then we could rule together and you..." Savitar paused to admire the beauty before him. "You could be free of that silly little League of Assassins." This last bit was said with a slight sneer just as Savitar reattached his lips to Al Sah-him's jaw. His hand plucks an arrow from the older man's quiver, playing with it as he stared into the older man's blue eyes. "So, what do you say?"
As stoic as his reputation implied Al Sah-him simply stared at the younger man causing Savitar to smirk. Leaning forward, Savitar connected their lips, slowly at first but then faster, harder, hungrier. As this happened, Al Sah-him made the decision to stop ignoring his impulses and join in. The arrow slipped from Savitar's fingers, falling to the floor with a clatter neither man noticed. Their lips disconnected, but Al Sah-him immediately grasped a hold of Savitar's collar, yanking him close enough that the two shared the same space, even the same air.
"We could be gods?" Al Sah-him asked, breathless.
"We could be gods," Savitar confirmed, just as breathless. "Now Kiss me."
Al Sah-him complied easily.