(( really depressed after surgery and still sick… Idk how long I will keep Kadar/Hamal/Ziio…
Hello, I am Kadar!
Oh, you have something to ask.. me??
I am an Assassin in training. My eldest brother is Malik,
I have come a long way to return to Masayf.
[[Ac!tumblr rp account. MSN: Kadarasayf@hotmail.com (ask for skype/aim]]
[[my main tumblr is defectivegirl.tumblr.com]]
vunarous said: i was like who is this then i was like KATZI
xDD I am going to follow you on my personal too (defectivegirl) c: I havent been on it in forever LOL
BUT MASTERLIST-SAMA DAMASCUS DAI AND I ARE STAYING.
8;( mun is just having ovarian cyst rupture issues….
paigefillyr said: Ahem, yes, Kadar, ah... I want to give you a hug. Is... Is that okay?
(why did I just see this?)
Um… I suppose *slowhug*
abbas-sofian said: *nuzzles cheek*
*wraps arms around neck and kisses his jaw with a smile* Hello habibi-
Wincing, the one of the elders standing near Kadar ushered the novices from the infirmary when one let a bowl of water shatter to the ground. A gaze of horror shifted from one to the other before one fled and returned with a cloth, compensate for the spoilt water. Muttering apologies, they dropped to their knees, stuffing the thick shards and scampering away.
Quiet, exchanging knowing glances amongst themselves, the elders return to the aid of Kadar, eying the blade, knowing what was to come.
Outside, they shrunk at the resonant voice, that echoed across the space, down the corridor.
Kadar snatched the blade from the elder after the wound was flushed and clean, holding the thin knife over the flame on the bedside table until it was gleaming red. He held the skin of the gash opened, placing the flat of the blade against one side of the opened gash. The skin popped and sizzled beneath the knife, filling the room with the smell of burning skin. As methodical as the last he did it again to the other side before beginning to stitch the wound closed.
He wraps his calf and pulls a bottle of oil, a mix of hashish and opiates that would dull the pain. Pouring it into the boy’s mouth before pinching his nose to force him to swallow.
He grumbles, “He will be fine.” Before sitting at the chair beside his bed, arms crossed high over his chest. Brow furrowed. The other men left slightly confused, but Kadar was more furious than relived at Altair’s eldest.
Furious jerked from the hands who tried to grasp his riens, but remained still as others came to heft the cold weight off his back, flaccids limbs dragging them down.
They carried him inside the gates, gazes filtered up, shouts over heard, catching sight their comrades carrying the oldest up the path as others scurried passed the party, sprinting through the corridors into the infirmary. Nervous novices perparing supplies for the arrival of the battered assassin.
Darim was lost to the world surrounding him, even as he was jostled and carried around. Pain was nothing but a distant memory that he wished to get back to. He hated being lost in his head, with all the things he saw, his head was a fearful place to be.
He couldn’t wake though, no matter how much he wished. Darim’s body was too weak, too cold, too numb to let him. He was alive though. He wouldn’t let go.
They came in, the boy and themselves a great contrast to the heat in the room, hefting him up and gently descending on the pallet. Assistants rubbed their knuckles and stepped forward, crowding around the oldest.
Dipping a cloth in the bowl of water, they unbuckled the straps, disgarding the worn armor faded from water and air, sunlight and sweat. Shredding the sleeves apart, mindful of his shoulder, ugly purple and green marks already forming, littering his skin.
They tossed them to the spare novices, who watched nervously, preparing for the arrival of Kadar.
Kadar came in with a armload of supplies. Immediately barking orders, checking his chest before finding his dislocated shoulder. He shoves the boy up, placing a metal bit between his teeth.
"If this doesn’t wake you up, nothing will-"
He uses all of his strength to shove the bone back into socket with a loud crunch. Slamming him back down before he can react. The other healer notes a gash on his calf. Kadar has someone else hold him as he checks the wound. It leaked white fluid and was filthy. He groaned, and grabbed a bottle of alcohol and a rag, cleaning it as best he can.
"Get me a blade and a small torch- this has to be cauterized."
Daring a little, it pumped its limbs faster, hooves tearing into the earth. Wild horses stood over head, whipping their tails and watching the limped body of the young stallion.
Masyaf stood overhead, peaking behind sliver mountains and misty white snow. The gates just over the horizon.
Darim no longer blinked his eyes open at this point, body cold where it was not touching the stallion and his body weak from blood loss. He’d hold on though, like he’d been doing the past few days. Always holding on.
Skidding to a halt, Furious whined obnoxiously at the gates, back-tracking back and forth, a cloud of dust swirling in his wake.
The heat from the young man was fleeting.
Kadar screamed for the gates to be opened, running to the horse’s side with a worried look on his face. Checking Darim’s face and neck, feeling the cool skin.
"Get him inside IMMEDIATELY." He barks at the men behind him. "Ready all my supplies- Get him in a clean bed, HURRY."