"Boo!" Eyja grinned at Seth.
Seth smirked just a bit. "Careful now. Get too convincing and I'll have to take *you* out to the ruins next."
He reloaded his weapon, and prepared several daggers to be unsheathed by unlooping the stay guards.
"Alright, see what you can do to make me even uglier." He said sitting down in the chair and letting Eyja get to work on his face.
She masterfully whipped out several jars of putty and paints, and worked to give him a broader jawline and more pronounced brow. Finishing up with a pair of lower tusks that looked like she may have plucked them from an Orc. Or a horker.
"Now, those aren't from the flute Abiene had, is it?" He joked and she turned a shade of red.
She put them in so they fit over his existing teethline, and the protrusions were pronounced.
"Haw teh heff em ah seh-pohsed to tok like dis?" He chuckled.
"You're not. Just be the strong, silent killer type and this should work..." Eyja smiled and then began to work on the splitted wound down the middle of his face, complete with a shoddy threadwork to make it convincing.
"Buff teh Ork whuff mithing one fide uhf hiff fafe." He said admiring the work in the mirror.
"That's why your going to hide that missing side of the face with a hood. He didn't have red eyes either, your disguise is even more easy to see through than mine."
Seth nodded and applied his leather hood so that only the lower left side of his face was easily visible.
He grunted something that seemed to intone: "How do I look?" while holding his hands out and moving his face slowly from side to side and spinning around.
Full Version: WG - The Mystery of the Poisoned Healer
Abiene gathered her supplies while chewing her lips bloody with nerves. Sethyas had been battling all manner of horrors for untold years before she met him. Worrying over this one would not help him at all, she tried to tell herself. Perhaps the ring that might save him was presently on her finger, and the scroll that could whisk him from danger was in her pocket. He did not live this long by handing his only hope for survival over to some Breton girl he met yesterday.
She was not convincing herself. Abiene stopped her hands and said a prayer to whomever she thought might listen for his safety. Her words to Arkay had a bit of an edge. They had trusted in his Blessing, and yet still Earana stalked them.
Scolding the god of Life and Death cleared her mind. As for the prayers, whether or not the Divines listened at least she felt a little better.
Once sealed inside her bedchamber Abiene went to work. The dresser top served as a worktable. She opened her pack and emergency bundle. Potions were heavy and vials could break, so she hadn’t brought many. But she didn’t know any healer who traveled without a few potent and highly portable alchemical supplies. She quickly found what she needed.
Lady’s mantle grew commonly on the Gold Coast. Abiene had fond memories of gathering expeditions on the hillsides outside Anvil, the ocean breeze in her hair and sun on her shoulders. Thankfully the good Sisters of nearby Gottlesfont Priory cultivated the plants in their garden and seeded in clearings throughout the adjacent woods. The leaves could be picked here in County Chorrol in the right season, one need only take a walk. She lifted the packet of dried leaves out and placed it on the dresser.
Lavender grew mostly in the Nibenay Basin, but it was readily available from most merchants thanks to its many uses. Abiene’s supply came from Seed-Neeus. She mostly used it in her tea and bath water. Thankfully she had not had time for relaxation on this trip, so the tightly wrapped bundles were intact. She set the lavender sprigs next to the Lady’s mantle leaves.
Abiene did not travel with any alchemy apparatus, and she would not repay Seth’s generosity by invading his privacy and borrowing his gear. She arranged her improvised apparatus with a little smile of triumph.
Any kitchen should have a mortar and pestle for crushing roasted beans and spices, and this one was no exception. Hearth cookery required specialized equipment like the three-legged frying pan Abiene had liberated to serve as a calcinator. And for a retort she needed something in which to heat a liquid while swirling it to drive off the steam. She placed the coffee pot on the dresser beside the frying pan, grateful that her simple healing potions would not require gases to be collected through condensation.
Abiene was an indifferent alchemist but she was a competent one. It took little time to grind the sprigs and leaves into powder. She cooked it to ash in the frying pan, regretting the smoke in her sealed chamber. A handful of frost magic cooled it enough so she could mix in some water. The slurry went into the coffee pot warm, then she heated it further in the flame over her palm. More frost magic cooled the liquid. She set the coffee pot aside to settle before decanting.
She undressed and laid her clothing on the bed, undergarments tucked neatly into her folded top out of habit. Her feet slid into the enchanted slippers as if they had been made for her. Then she considered the Chameleon robe.
It might be awkward to walk around invisibly while they were preparing to leave. Abiene chose her loosest nightgown and pulled it over her head. One tug on the ribbon at the neckline and the garment would fall to the floor. That was why she favored this type of bedwear. In this case it would facilitate a quick change. The robe could go over her head as the nightie dropped without a fuss. Abiene possessed no modesty, but it seemed courteous to assume that others might. Her wardrobe issues solved, she laid the Chameleon robe over the foot of the bed ready for departure.
Now she had time for uncomfortable thoughts as she decanted the potion into empty bottles. She stepped over her threshold each day with the reasonable expectation that she would make the return trip. What preparations should be made in the event that this time she did not?
She had no property to disclose to anyone, all of those matters were still administered by others on her behalf. Her loved ones knew that they were loved. But there was much that she had never said.
Dwelling on her regrets would take the heart out of her, and this was no time to invite weakness. And what could she say in a letter? ‘I should have fought for you, but please disregard this if I live?’
Maxical spoke through the door as she tapped on it. “It's safe now, Abiene dear. Seth has killed Earana again. We have to work fast now. I'll need your biggest loosest robe of light color to use.”
Abiene pulled a clean but well-worn healer’s robe out of her pack, handed down to her by a stout Imperial priestess from the chapel. She had brought it along in case she had felt too sick to stand a skirt binding her at the waist. Though Seth’s potion had purged her with alarming force, it had not caused any lingering discomfort.
She grabbed Maxical in a spontaneous hug as she exited her room. “Sorry about the smoke. Here, how about this robe? And look, these bottles are full of potions.”
Abiene tried to bite back her worry, but that lasted all of one second. “Is Sethyas injured? Did you see him? Does he look all right?”
She was not convincing herself. Abiene stopped her hands and said a prayer to whomever she thought might listen for his safety. Her words to Arkay had a bit of an edge. They had trusted in his Blessing, and yet still Earana stalked them.
Scolding the god of Life and Death cleared her mind. As for the prayers, whether or not the Divines listened at least she felt a little better.
Once sealed inside her bedchamber Abiene went to work. The dresser top served as a worktable. She opened her pack and emergency bundle. Potions were heavy and vials could break, so she hadn’t brought many. But she didn’t know any healer who traveled without a few potent and highly portable alchemical supplies. She quickly found what she needed.
Lady’s mantle grew commonly on the Gold Coast. Abiene had fond memories of gathering expeditions on the hillsides outside Anvil, the ocean breeze in her hair and sun on her shoulders. Thankfully the good Sisters of nearby Gottlesfont Priory cultivated the plants in their garden and seeded in clearings throughout the adjacent woods. The leaves could be picked here in County Chorrol in the right season, one need only take a walk. She lifted the packet of dried leaves out and placed it on the dresser.
Lavender grew mostly in the Nibenay Basin, but it was readily available from most merchants thanks to its many uses. Abiene’s supply came from Seed-Neeus. She mostly used it in her tea and bath water. Thankfully she had not had time for relaxation on this trip, so the tightly wrapped bundles were intact. She set the lavender sprigs next to the Lady’s mantle leaves.
Abiene did not travel with any alchemy apparatus, and she would not repay Seth’s generosity by invading his privacy and borrowing his gear. She arranged her improvised apparatus with a little smile of triumph.
Any kitchen should have a mortar and pestle for crushing roasted beans and spices, and this one was no exception. Hearth cookery required specialized equipment like the three-legged frying pan Abiene had liberated to serve as a calcinator. And for a retort she needed something in which to heat a liquid while swirling it to drive off the steam. She placed the coffee pot on the dresser beside the frying pan, grateful that her simple healing potions would not require gases to be collected through condensation.
Abiene was an indifferent alchemist but she was a competent one. It took little time to grind the sprigs and leaves into powder. She cooked it to ash in the frying pan, regretting the smoke in her sealed chamber. A handful of frost magic cooled it enough so she could mix in some water. The slurry went into the coffee pot warm, then she heated it further in the flame over her palm. More frost magic cooled the liquid. She set the coffee pot aside to settle before decanting.
She undressed and laid her clothing on the bed, undergarments tucked neatly into her folded top out of habit. Her feet slid into the enchanted slippers as if they had been made for her. Then she considered the Chameleon robe.
It might be awkward to walk around invisibly while they were preparing to leave. Abiene chose her loosest nightgown and pulled it over her head. One tug on the ribbon at the neckline and the garment would fall to the floor. That was why she favored this type of bedwear. In this case it would facilitate a quick change. The robe could go over her head as the nightie dropped without a fuss. Abiene possessed no modesty, but it seemed courteous to assume that others might. Her wardrobe issues solved, she laid the Chameleon robe over the foot of the bed ready for departure.
Now she had time for uncomfortable thoughts as she decanted the potion into empty bottles. She stepped over her threshold each day with the reasonable expectation that she would make the return trip. What preparations should be made in the event that this time she did not?
She had no property to disclose to anyone, all of those matters were still administered by others on her behalf. Her loved ones knew that they were loved. But there was much that she had never said.
Dwelling on her regrets would take the heart out of her, and this was no time to invite weakness. And what could she say in a letter? ‘I should have fought for you, but please disregard this if I live?’
Maxical spoke through the door as she tapped on it. “It's safe now, Abiene dear. Seth has killed Earana again. We have to work fast now. I'll need your biggest loosest robe of light color to use.”
Abiene pulled a clean but well-worn healer’s robe out of her pack, handed down to her by a stout Imperial priestess from the chapel. She had brought it along in case she had felt too sick to stand a skirt binding her at the waist. Though Seth’s potion had purged her with alarming force, it had not caused any lingering discomfort.
She grabbed Maxical in a spontaneous hug as she exited her room. “Sorry about the smoke. Here, how about this robe? And look, these bottles are full of potions.”
Abiene tried to bite back her worry, but that lasted all of one second. “Is Sethyas injured? Did you see him? Does he look all right?”
.
*
Maxical:
"Eyja healed him. Be prepared when you go downstairs, you will see Earana and Eyja may have Seth turned into an Orc by now."
She grabbed the robe and hurried to the kitchen.
"Clear the table off." Eyja said quietly.
Maxical hurried to remove everything quickly. Eyja lay an oblong shield on the table and signaled Maxical to hold Abiene's robe over it.
Eyja held it firmly down, shifting the shield underneath till it was in the position she wanted it. "Right here, Seth." She dropped a tiny dab of red paint in one spot.
Seth grabbed a plain dagger with a short blade from his chest and stabbed it through the robe and into the shield so it stuck.
*
Eyja:
Eyja quickly went to work with the red paint; making it look like blood around the stab wound. She mixed a bit of blue in with the red and dribbled it right where the blade went into the fabric, leaving the look of a deeper red in that area. It looked remarkably like a deep stab wound on a real person when she finished.
"We need to hurry, our assasin will be here any minute. I went in disguise as Abiene and taunted her to follow me by acting terrified of her."
She turned to Abiene. "Where is your chameleon? We must hurry, sweet. Finish your potions. I have empty vials in my pack, fill as many as you can and divide them among us. And while you are in my pack, grab as many vials of Restore Magicka as you can, just leave me one. Those are for you, so you don't run out. Draw from Maxical if you need to and can in combat."
Eyja pulled something from her pack and turned back to Maxical with a grin, holding it out.
Maxical gaped. "A dog collar?"
Eyja shook her head. "Not just any dog collar. A thick wide dog collar with metal plate guards. Rena Bruiant was walking her dogs when I entered Chorrol a little while ago. She will find one of her dogs missing its collar when she gets home. I was in chameleon, gave it a bit of dried meat while I removed it."
She buckled the dog collar on Maxical's neck and tucked her beloved sheepskin over it, then began painting a slash across it with the thick red gel paint. When she was done she went down the center with some of the blue and red mixed paint, making the wound look extremely deep.
Eyja mixed up some yellow and white paint with a dab of the pure red and placed a few tiny drops in the center of the deepest part.
"EW, it looks like a real slit throat!" Maxical wrinkled her nose as she looked in the looking glass.
"Don't lay too near any fire, I don't want this 'blood' drying." Eyja wedged it carefully around the dog collar, and turned to Seth to point out her handiwork.
Maxical's eyes got large. She bopped Eyja and held up her hand.
"Shh! Trap went off." She pointed to the door to the room attached to the suite.
Seth cleared the evidence of their disguises from the table and locked his chest while Eyja grabbed Abiene and pointed to a spot midway through the kitchen. She barely whispered "Down."
*
Maxical:
Maxical lay on top of Abiene and made herself go limp, her legs in an odd twisted position. She kept her eyes barely slit open but perfectly still as if frozen in death.
Eyja spread the shield and robe over her, quickly wedging it around so it looked like Maxical was wearing it and that she'd been stabbed right through the heart before her throat was cut; the hilt of the dagger still sticking up from her chest. She poured the rest of the red paint out in a puddle around Maxical's throat. She and Seth hurried down the corridor toward the stairs, but stayed in full view.
The sound of another trap going off, then another and the door creaked open. The only thing entering was the rank odor of urine and feces and a tall pink outline.
"You idiots, this one is still alive!" She reached down and twisted the blade. She stepped over Maxical, scanning the upper floors. "Where is the body of that Breton?"
*
Maxical:
"Eyja healed him. Be prepared when you go downstairs, you will see Earana and Eyja may have Seth turned into an Orc by now."
She grabbed the robe and hurried to the kitchen.
"Clear the table off." Eyja said quietly.
Maxical hurried to remove everything quickly. Eyja lay an oblong shield on the table and signaled Maxical to hold Abiene's robe over it.
Eyja held it firmly down, shifting the shield underneath till it was in the position she wanted it. "Right here, Seth." She dropped a tiny dab of red paint in one spot.
Seth grabbed a plain dagger with a short blade from his chest and stabbed it through the robe and into the shield so it stuck.
*
Eyja:
Eyja quickly went to work with the red paint; making it look like blood around the stab wound. She mixed a bit of blue in with the red and dribbled it right where the blade went into the fabric, leaving the look of a deeper red in that area. It looked remarkably like a deep stab wound on a real person when she finished.
"We need to hurry, our assasin will be here any minute. I went in disguise as Abiene and taunted her to follow me by acting terrified of her."
She turned to Abiene. "Where is your chameleon? We must hurry, sweet. Finish your potions. I have empty vials in my pack, fill as many as you can and divide them among us. And while you are in my pack, grab as many vials of Restore Magicka as you can, just leave me one. Those are for you, so you don't run out. Draw from Maxical if you need to and can in combat."
Eyja pulled something from her pack and turned back to Maxical with a grin, holding it out.
Maxical gaped. "A dog collar?"
Eyja shook her head. "Not just any dog collar. A thick wide dog collar with metal plate guards. Rena Bruiant was walking her dogs when I entered Chorrol a little while ago. She will find one of her dogs missing its collar when she gets home. I was in chameleon, gave it a bit of dried meat while I removed it."
She buckled the dog collar on Maxical's neck and tucked her beloved sheepskin over it, then began painting a slash across it with the thick red gel paint. When she was done she went down the center with some of the blue and red mixed paint, making the wound look extremely deep.
Eyja mixed up some yellow and white paint with a dab of the pure red and placed a few tiny drops in the center of the deepest part.
"EW, it looks like a real slit throat!" Maxical wrinkled her nose as she looked in the looking glass.
"Don't lay too near any fire, I don't want this 'blood' drying." Eyja wedged it carefully around the dog collar, and turned to Seth to point out her handiwork.
Maxical's eyes got large. She bopped Eyja and held up her hand.
"Shh! Trap went off." She pointed to the door to the room attached to the suite.
Seth cleared the evidence of their disguises from the table and locked his chest while Eyja grabbed Abiene and pointed to a spot midway through the kitchen. She barely whispered "Down."
*
Maxical:
Maxical lay on top of Abiene and made herself go limp, her legs in an odd twisted position. She kept her eyes barely slit open but perfectly still as if frozen in death.
Eyja spread the shield and robe over her, quickly wedging it around so it looked like Maxical was wearing it and that she'd been stabbed right through the heart before her throat was cut; the hilt of the dagger still sticking up from her chest. She poured the rest of the red paint out in a puddle around Maxical's throat. She and Seth hurried down the corridor toward the stairs, but stayed in full view.
The sound of another trap going off, then another and the door creaked open. The only thing entering was the rank odor of urine and feces and a tall pink outline.
"You idiots, this one is still alive!" She reached down and twisted the blade. She stepped over Maxical, scanning the upper floors. "Where is the body of that Breton?"
*
Abiene gaped at the spectacle of Earana and gro-Gonk working at the kitchen table, but there was little time to appreciate Eyja’s masterful disguises. She dug in the pack for potions and vials, portioning and quickly distributing them.
“Best to take a few now so they keep working while you fight,” she said, downing two long-acting magicka potions herself.
She cast the spells they had agreed upon, then she called upon Akatosh and Zenithar to bless them all with luck. If they acquiesced she couldn’t tell. She was too busy kicking her nightie onto a chair while she yanked the Chameleon robe down to notice.
Maxical motioned that a trap had gone off, but Abiene hadn’t heard it. Eyja grabbed Abiene’s glowing invisible arm and pointed her to a spot on the floor. Seconds later she lay with Maxical sprawled on top of her, trying not to choke on the smell of fresh paint. That Altmer won’t smell anything but chamber pot, Abiene realized. Maxical is a genius.
Now she heard traps and opening doors. All she could see was pink life signs, but the voice told her what she needed to know. “You idiots, this one is still alive! Where is the body of that Breton?”
Abiene lay still, oddly calm. Her worries had gone. There was only this moment.
The tall form stepped over them.
She felt Maxical’s muscles bunch in readiness though she didn’t move.
A board creaked under her ear as the intruder’s second foot came down.
Abiene lay limp so no motion would betray them. Who was she talking to?
“Best to take a few now so they keep working while you fight,” she said, downing two long-acting magicka potions herself.
She cast the spells they had agreed upon, then she called upon Akatosh and Zenithar to bless them all with luck. If they acquiesced she couldn’t tell. She was too busy kicking her nightie onto a chair while she yanked the Chameleon robe down to notice.
Maxical motioned that a trap had gone off, but Abiene hadn’t heard it. Eyja grabbed Abiene’s glowing invisible arm and pointed her to a spot on the floor. Seconds later she lay with Maxical sprawled on top of her, trying not to choke on the smell of fresh paint. That Altmer won’t smell anything but chamber pot, Abiene realized. Maxical is a genius.
Now she heard traps and opening doors. All she could see was pink life signs, but the voice told her what she needed to know. “You idiots, this one is still alive! Where is the body of that Breton?”
Abiene lay still, oddly calm. Her worries had gone. There was only this moment.
The tall form stepped over them.
She felt Maxical’s muscles bunch in readiness though she didn’t move.
A board creaked under her ear as the intruder’s second foot came down.
Abiene lay limp so no motion would betray them. Who was she talking to?
*
Maxical:
Maxical eased up in total silence, holding up the robe and sheath so it wouldn't rustle and alert the Altmer.
She reached alongside Abiene's thigh for her longsword; she had already unsheathed it at the first trap going off so she would be armed without the sound of drawing it alerting the Altmer once she was inside the suite.
What Maxical hadn't counted on was Abiene instantly scrambling up behind her. The Altmer spun at the sound.
Her breath whistled on the sharp intake of air, and her eyes bulged in fixated shock at the floating bloody robe with the dagger sticking out over the heart; the still gaping wound on Maxical's neck as she tossed the robe to the floor and revealed herself fully armored.
Maxical's sword was drawn, moving in an almost hypnotizingly slow figure eight in front of her.
The Altmer's speed was too fast at drawing her own shortsword, Maxical guessed she had boosted her movement with a spell.
Maxical moved in a semi-circle to keep Abiene behind her, raising her sword high and staring at the Altmer's sword hand as if targeting it. The Altmer fell for the trick, raising her own sword to block the move she was sure was coming.
Maxical barely feinted with her sword as if making her move. As the Altmer's blade flew up to block, Maxical grabbed her own sword with both hands and in one swift movement swept the Altmer's ankle with enough force that the sound of cracking bones filled the kitchen. She heard Abiene moan from behind her.
The Altmer's blade caught her shoulder a glance, bringing blood but not deep enough to tear the ligaments. Maxical sprang back and parried the Altmer's blade up till she was back in position with Abiene behind her.
The Altmer was giving her a smug look. "Burn, cat. Burn and writhe in pain, you mangy beast. The wound you inflicted was great, but the scratch I dealt you will make you pray for death."
"What, this scratch? What are you, on Skooma or something? I scratch myself this bad bathing."
Maxical suddenly realized what the Altmer was expecting. She must have poisoned her blade with Eyja's potions, thinking it was the acid in those vials.
She grinned at the woman and gave an obviously sarcastic whine. "Oh dear, this hurts so bad. Waaa, Mommy help me."
She raised her blade again, once again watching the woman's sword arm as if targeting it. This time when she feinted the Altmer lowered her blade to block her from sweeping her ankle again.
"BWAAHAA!" Maxical swept her sword arm in a powerful blow while it was extended; leaving a deep cut and crunched bones. It would be useless now. Maxical was barely nicked on the thigh.
"Geez, how dumb do I look? Did you think I'd be stupid enough to try the same trick twice? BWAAHAA!" Maxical sprang in a semi-circle again, keeping Abiene behind her.
The Altmer's face had lost its smug look as the horror of realization was beginning to sink in. Her poison didn't work, the loss of her sword arm; and the sudden realization that her thralls were not defending her.
"Get over here!" She screamed for them, glancing back repeatedly as she tried to parry Maxical's blade left handed now.
"Let's hope your left hand is more skilled than your right." Maxical taunted to distract her while Seth and Eyja moved in.
They moved forward, coming out of the shadowed area of the corridor and into the full light of the kitchen. The Altmer's last glance at them produced a strangled gasp and shriek.
The red lava of Seth's eyes was clearly visible now, his blade gleaming its threat and aimed at the Altmer. She spun in panic and came up against Maxical's sword. Eyja moved to her side, drawing her own weapon out.
Eyja grinned through Earana's face. "Now we will see who will burn, won't we?"
*
Maxical:
Maxical eased up in total silence, holding up the robe and sheath so it wouldn't rustle and alert the Altmer.
She reached alongside Abiene's thigh for her longsword; she had already unsheathed it at the first trap going off so she would be armed without the sound of drawing it alerting the Altmer once she was inside the suite.
What Maxical hadn't counted on was Abiene instantly scrambling up behind her. The Altmer spun at the sound.
Her breath whistled on the sharp intake of air, and her eyes bulged in fixated shock at the floating bloody robe with the dagger sticking out over the heart; the still gaping wound on Maxical's neck as she tossed the robe to the floor and revealed herself fully armored.
Maxical's sword was drawn, moving in an almost hypnotizingly slow figure eight in front of her.
The Altmer's speed was too fast at drawing her own shortsword, Maxical guessed she had boosted her movement with a spell.
Maxical moved in a semi-circle to keep Abiene behind her, raising her sword high and staring at the Altmer's sword hand as if targeting it. The Altmer fell for the trick, raising her own sword to block the move she was sure was coming.
Maxical barely feinted with her sword as if making her move. As the Altmer's blade flew up to block, Maxical grabbed her own sword with both hands and in one swift movement swept the Altmer's ankle with enough force that the sound of cracking bones filled the kitchen. She heard Abiene moan from behind her.
The Altmer's blade caught her shoulder a glance, bringing blood but not deep enough to tear the ligaments. Maxical sprang back and parried the Altmer's blade up till she was back in position with Abiene behind her.
The Altmer was giving her a smug look. "Burn, cat. Burn and writhe in pain, you mangy beast. The wound you inflicted was great, but the scratch I dealt you will make you pray for death."
"What, this scratch? What are you, on Skooma or something? I scratch myself this bad bathing."
Maxical suddenly realized what the Altmer was expecting. She must have poisoned her blade with Eyja's potions, thinking it was the acid in those vials.
She grinned at the woman and gave an obviously sarcastic whine. "Oh dear, this hurts so bad. Waaa, Mommy help me."
She raised her blade again, once again watching the woman's sword arm as if targeting it. This time when she feinted the Altmer lowered her blade to block her from sweeping her ankle again.
"BWAAHAA!" Maxical swept her sword arm in a powerful blow while it was extended; leaving a deep cut and crunched bones. It would be useless now. Maxical was barely nicked on the thigh.
"Geez, how dumb do I look? Did you think I'd be stupid enough to try the same trick twice? BWAAHAA!" Maxical sprang in a semi-circle again, keeping Abiene behind her.
The Altmer's face had lost its smug look as the horror of realization was beginning to sink in. Her poison didn't work, the loss of her sword arm; and the sudden realization that her thralls were not defending her.
"Get over here!" She screamed for them, glancing back repeatedly as she tried to parry Maxical's blade left handed now.
"Let's hope your left hand is more skilled than your right." Maxical taunted to distract her while Seth and Eyja moved in.
They moved forward, coming out of the shadowed area of the corridor and into the full light of the kitchen. The Altmer's last glance at them produced a strangled gasp and shriek.
The red lava of Seth's eyes was clearly visible now, his blade gleaming its threat and aimed at the Altmer. She spun in panic and came up against Maxical's sword. Eyja moved to her side, drawing her own weapon out.
Eyja grinned through Earana's face. "Now we will see who will burn, won't we?"
*
He could feel his complex raging inside his head, he wanted to perform every unspeakable manner of torture upon this...Necromancer...this 'Assassin' he'd learned or even just heard the vaguest notion thereof. But, she had much to answer for.
I became this monster,...to fight monsters like you.
His steps were quick and silent, and he was nearly a blur in the few steps between them.
One hand grabbed her mouth and chin, and held her with an incredibly solid strength, twisting her around, and bringing her against his cuirass, trapping her in place. Her hands came up to his forearm, grasping them more in surprise than defending herself.
The other brought the blade he'd prepared especially for her into her side slamming it in with focused fluidity that matched Abiene's skilled surgical hands.
She arched her back and screamed into the black leather of his hands, creating nothing but a barely audible murmur.
He held her there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for her poison to take it's effect.
How many heartbeats had passed, how many grains of sand fell down the hourglass? Time slowed and stretched too aeons for each measure of it.
Finally, he felt her go limp...mostly. He unhanded her and she fell into a heap of writhing agony. Her body seemed to be convulsing and her face twisted into agonal expressions. Her eyes became glassy and looked far-off.
Sethyas quickly covered her up with a blanket to spare the girls the sight. This was why he would never use such a wicked poison.
Death...as final and as real as it was, should be swift and painless.
Retribution was not revenge, and torture was not punishment. No, those were attributes of cruelty.
But, retribution and punishment could be traits of the just. They could also be twisted to serve the needless cruelty of those who lacked empathy.
He placed her onto the chair, and secured her as best he could. He felt her vital signs. Elevated,...very elevated, but still quite stable. She would live for now.
"I know you're in pain." He said taking off the tusks and pulling back his hood. Her hate flowed forward; first mixing in, and then overcoming her pained expression in a scowl of malice.
He grabbed a damp cloth and wiped a portion of his face.
"What I don't know...you're going to tell me." He said, sitting in front of her and showing her the vials from her lair. "Or we're going too see how much of your own medicine you can take."
I became this monster,...to fight monsters like you.
His steps were quick and silent, and he was nearly a blur in the few steps between them.
One hand grabbed her mouth and chin, and held her with an incredibly solid strength, twisting her around, and bringing her against his cuirass, trapping her in place. Her hands came up to his forearm, grasping them more in surprise than defending herself.
The other brought the blade he'd prepared especially for her into her side slamming it in with focused fluidity that matched Abiene's skilled surgical hands.
She arched her back and screamed into the black leather of his hands, creating nothing but a barely audible murmur.
He held her there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for her poison to take it's effect.
How many heartbeats had passed, how many grains of sand fell down the hourglass? Time slowed and stretched too aeons for each measure of it.
Finally, he felt her go limp...mostly. He unhanded her and she fell into a heap of writhing agony. Her body seemed to be convulsing and her face twisted into agonal expressions. Her eyes became glassy and looked far-off.
Sethyas quickly covered her up with a blanket to spare the girls the sight. This was why he would never use such a wicked poison.
Death...as final and as real as it was, should be swift and painless.
Retribution was not revenge, and torture was not punishment. No, those were attributes of cruelty.
But, retribution and punishment could be traits of the just. They could also be twisted to serve the needless cruelty of those who lacked empathy.
He placed her onto the chair, and secured her as best he could. He felt her vital signs. Elevated,...very elevated, but still quite stable. She would live for now.
"I know you're in pain." He said taking off the tusks and pulling back his hood. Her hate flowed forward; first mixing in, and then overcoming her pained expression in a scowl of malice.
He grabbed a damp cloth and wiped a portion of his face.
"What I don't know...you're going to tell me." He said, sitting in front of her and showing her the vials from her lair. "Or we're going too see how much of your own medicine you can take."
As Sethyas grappled the Altmer Abiene reached out for Maxical. Her spell easily closed the surface wounds on Maxical’s shoulder and thigh. Abiene chased it with the spells to cure disease and stop the effects of poison in case the Altmer had tainted her blade. From her talk it seemed she had used the potion that Eyja had swapped for her poisons, but with Maxical’s magical condition Abiene didn’t want to take any chances.
“Are you all right?” she asked Maxical. The Khajiit’s eyes were looking at her but not focused.
I’m still in Chameleon, Abiene realized. She yanked open the front of the robe until the enchantment broke, bringing her into view again.
“Did you get hit?” Maxical asked.
Abiene shook her head, turning to stare behind them. Pink glows were everywhere on all levels of the inn and tavern. She could even see the shapes of horses outside. There could be an approaching army amongst the inn’s guests and staff. “Where are the others?” Abiene asked a little wildly. “I can’t tell what’s happening!”
Maxical gave her a little focus shake, then gripped her shoulder in a steadying way. “Seth and Eyja were the others, remember? It’s all right, you’re safe.”
Eyja spoke, her tone low and commanding. She exchanged a series of gestures with Maxical. The two moved to secure the doors again. Abiene realized that apart from Maxical’s taunting and the blades’ song the whole event had passed in near silence. She took off the life detection ring and placed it on the table. Clarity returned as the distracting glows faded.
Sethyas sat opposite the bound Altmer, wiping his face. His features emerged from the disguise while hers became a hateful mask through the pain.
“What I don't know...you're going to tell me,” he rasped. “Or we're going to see how much of your own medicine you can take.”
Abiene drifted up beside Seth without realizing her feet had moved.
The Altmer’s eyes snapped to Abiene. “You!” she hissed. “Little worm. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
Abiene knelt beside Sethyas and placed her hand on the Altmer’s knee. She knew this woman’s skills must far surpass her own. No doubt she had spent more time practicing Illusion and Mysticism than Abiene had been alive. But the stars had given Abiene the keys to a mortal’s energies at the moment of her birth, and learning to use them had become her calling. She drew on the spells from the school of Restoration to even the score between them.
At her first touch the Altmer’s pain slammed into Abiene like a physical force. Her involuntary gasp was answered by scorn from the Altmer. Abiene ground her teeth over a whimper and began casting.
The older woman did possess tremendous skill in the ways of mystic energy and illusion. Abiene’s Absorb spells let her enter the Altmer’s mind and use her expertise against her. Thus fortified by the Altmer’s own experience, Abiene Dispelled all effects and fortifications that the Altmer had cast upon herself. She finished with the spell to curse her magicka with Silence.
Abiene pulled away as the woman’s back arched in renewed agony. She thrashed against her bonds.
“She can’t use her spells now,” Abiene said to Seth. “And I took away her defenses.”
Abiene staggered when she stood but regained her balance. A black rage had ignited in her heart, and it threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to grab the woman’s sweaty face and relish the pain burning through her. Let the assassin choke on Abiene’s anger while she tasted the woman’s growing fear.
Her eyes went to Sethyas, searching for an anchor. Instead she found he rode the same tide, poised on the edge of utter darkness.
“I want to know why,” she whispered.
“Are you all right?” she asked Maxical. The Khajiit’s eyes were looking at her but not focused.
I’m still in Chameleon, Abiene realized. She yanked open the front of the robe until the enchantment broke, bringing her into view again.
“Did you get hit?” Maxical asked.
Abiene shook her head, turning to stare behind them. Pink glows were everywhere on all levels of the inn and tavern. She could even see the shapes of horses outside. There could be an approaching army amongst the inn’s guests and staff. “Where are the others?” Abiene asked a little wildly. “I can’t tell what’s happening!”
Maxical gave her a little focus shake, then gripped her shoulder in a steadying way. “Seth and Eyja were the others, remember? It’s all right, you’re safe.”
Eyja spoke, her tone low and commanding. She exchanged a series of gestures with Maxical. The two moved to secure the doors again. Abiene realized that apart from Maxical’s taunting and the blades’ song the whole event had passed in near silence. She took off the life detection ring and placed it on the table. Clarity returned as the distracting glows faded.
Sethyas sat opposite the bound Altmer, wiping his face. His features emerged from the disguise while hers became a hateful mask through the pain.
“What I don't know...you're going to tell me,” he rasped. “Or we're going to see how much of your own medicine you can take.”
Abiene drifted up beside Seth without realizing her feet had moved.
The Altmer’s eyes snapped to Abiene. “You!” she hissed. “Little worm. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
Abiene knelt beside Sethyas and placed her hand on the Altmer’s knee. She knew this woman’s skills must far surpass her own. No doubt she had spent more time practicing Illusion and Mysticism than Abiene had been alive. But the stars had given Abiene the keys to a mortal’s energies at the moment of her birth, and learning to use them had become her calling. She drew on the spells from the school of Restoration to even the score between them.
At her first touch the Altmer’s pain slammed into Abiene like a physical force. Her involuntary gasp was answered by scorn from the Altmer. Abiene ground her teeth over a whimper and began casting.
The older woman did possess tremendous skill in the ways of mystic energy and illusion. Abiene’s Absorb spells let her enter the Altmer’s mind and use her expertise against her. Thus fortified by the Altmer’s own experience, Abiene Dispelled all effects and fortifications that the Altmer had cast upon herself. She finished with the spell to curse her magicka with Silence.
Abiene pulled away as the woman’s back arched in renewed agony. She thrashed against her bonds.
“She can’t use her spells now,” Abiene said to Seth. “And I took away her defenses.”
Abiene staggered when she stood but regained her balance. A black rage had ignited in her heart, and it threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to grab the woman’s sweaty face and relish the pain burning through her. Let the assassin choke on Abiene’s anger while she tasted the woman’s growing fear.
Her eyes went to Sethyas, searching for an anchor. Instead she found he rode the same tide, poised on the edge of utter darkness.
“I want to know why,” she whispered.
.
“I want to know why,” Abiene whispered.
The Altmer kept her silence and glared in return.
"I can see the hate in your eyes." He said pointing two fingers at them. "Hate is a concentrated form of anger. A tumor, a callous. Anger...is the other side of fear. You are afraid. Of everything. You call upon your hate to give you strength to save you, yet you'll find it is the reason you sit there now."
"I'll give you one chance to see reason and perhaps it may work with you as it did Earana...Oh yes, she was here. She's gone now. Let me burn that abomination you turned her into. Despite your hold over her, she resisted and took her destiny into her own hands. She passed because it was her choice. She showed me her true power in her final moments." He said calmly enough.
"I do believe the Lady asked you a question." Sethyas said placing a hand upon Abiene's shoulder gently, and show the Altmer the eyes that didn't blink in the face of death.
"We'll start with something simple. What is your name...your real one." he commanded.
She defied him with her silence. He produced the blade again and hovered it over thigh. "Perhaps you think that I'm not deadly serious about all this. Plus it seems you developed this poison very well, I think it would be possible to pump you full of it, and you would still be alive. Shall I test my hypothesis?" He asked her.
"Kelkemmenar." The name escaped through her gritted teeth.
"Kelkemmenar." He repeated. "Number fifty-six. An old name. Back when the Altmer still named themselves in progression of family members numbers." Sethyas stroked his chin.
"And by old, I mean four times older then what most mortals consider old." He squinted his eyes. "You're from the second era." he vocalized his analysis.
She seemed to widen her eyes just a bit, to which Sethyas gave the slightest of smiles.
"Oh yes, I'm not just some brute. You'll find I've been around as well, not so much as you however." He replied, and his hand returned the blade to a resting position.
"Now then, Kelkemmenar: Why?" He grated.
"Why poison this innocent? To gain her position is obvious. We figured that much out. What you desired the position for is also obvious: To use the knowledge to further your Necromantic powers. No, I'm afraid the core question is: What would motivate you to take it this far? What was your endgame. Whereas Earana was simply mad for power and let that blind her, you're far more subtle. You did think this through. Which is what I find to be most admirable and disturbing about all this."
The Altmer stared back at him for several seconds, seeming to try to find an equilibrium with her pain and her reason.
"If you think any of this had anything to do with her on a personal basis, you're quite mistaken. I don't consider her to be anything but an insect. An insect that got in my way. Do you stop and consider your own superiority to a dragonfly? Or do you merely continue forward with your own goals?" She explained.
"Then your association with the Dark Brotherhood...the Necromancers?" Sethyas folded one leg over the other and blew out a plume of smoke from a hackle-lo he lit.
"Merely means to further my true goal. I needed the knowledge of Mannimarco's Adherents. Anyone can mumble some incantations from a book over a corpse. Mannimarco's work is...transcendent. As far beyond the basic perception of Necromancy as is Selvilo's work in Regeneration is to Restoration." She recounted.
"Now imagine: Armies of the Undead raised again. And again. And again. And again." She said with a sick, prideful smile.
"And that is just scratching the surface, I'm afraid. Nor even my true intention. A way to finance my work and offer protection...though I admit I was hasty with my subjects you two so cleverly set yourselves up to mimic." She shook her head.
"Then....what is the endgame?" Sethyas said.
" How much do you know about the Missing God?" She asked.
"Lorkhan? The Doom drum. Your kind reviles him in your religion for losing their status as et'Ada; the Ancestral Spirits." Sethyas replied, cocking his head in interest.
"It is said that Arkay was once a man. Not quite mortal as the rest of us are, as he is the one who apparently came up with the concept. Life, Death, and Rebirth. Why?" She smiled.
"And you've heard of the Nordic tales...'What Happens When You Shake The Dragon Just So' who stole from them a natural long life to but six years, but then reclaimed it and shook the negative years onto the Orcs..." She explained.
"...and of Auri-El? Who led the original Aldmer against the armies of Lorkhan in mythic times, vanquishing that tyrant and establishing the first kingdoms of the Altmer, Altmora and Old Ehlnofey. He then ascended to heaven in full observance of his followers so that they might learn the steps needed to escape the mortal plane."
Sethyas eyes moved carefully to her lips as she spoke.
"I seek to end this insane cycle." She said quietly and smiled.
Sethyas eyes narrowed. "You're a Thalmor." he accused.
"One of the first." She confirmed.
Abiene still shook slightly underneath his hand, and didn't seem to understand what was happening. The Altmer were among the Eldest Civilizations in Nirn's history. Their civilization was a work of wonder. They were also the ones most in tune with magicka and Aetherius, the source of all magicka.
That attunement had a dark side however. Given that the world came from that great beyond, they held a cultural memory of that former state. They wanted to go back into the womb, as it were. The Thalmor were a small but outspoken group of Altmer within the Summurset Isles. They could be likened to a political party, but one that was too extreme for even among the most severe of Altmer.
They openly called for the genocide of Mankind, and the Superiority of Merkind. They sought what they thought was the destiny of the World: To end it, so that all may return to a state that in their eyes held the ultimate meaning.
Even the Dwemer had followed this creed: refusing to believe that they were anything less than Divine Spirits, and Sethyas suspected that had led them to their sudden extinction.
"You're insane." Sethyas shook his head. "How many others have followed your line of reasoning and failed miserably. You are not a god, and you will not transcend to their place."
"Insane? I'm merely eliminating Necromancy as a possibility. As any good scientist would." She said calmly. "As you noticed, I've been around a very long time. I've learned that there are many possible avenues to the goal we seek. Necromancy both defies and mimics Arkay's Law, thus disqualifying it as a valid concept. Death is an illusion in more ways than one. If a thing can be bent, adapted and outright ignored, it is not an Earth-Bone, a Law of the Ehlnofey." She explained, naming the very laws of physics that governed their world.
"It is true I am not a god; at least not right now, but we fell from our station because of Lorkhan's trickery." She said with a bit of anger.
"Just as you, Dunmer, fell from your station as an Aldmer for throwing your lot in with the Daedra. But even you must know,...must sense, on some level how your very nature is superior to these Mannish races...and that thing." She glanced with a special contempt towards Maxical.
Sethyas smacked her hard in reaction. "Do not insult them again." he whispered, pointing at her as a trickle of blood fell down from her lip that curled up into a smile.
"You have no compassion, no empathy. You are lost." He shook his head.
"No." She corrected him. "I am not lost. I am not under the sway of a mere emotion, you....you are quite lost. Blinded by these petty passions and needless squanderings."
"So...there you have it. The 'why'. The 'endgame'. My work is necessary. It will free us all, send us back to where we came. All I do, is follow the destiny of Nirn. We are the only sphere, the only plane[t] that has a concept of: End. Limitation. Finite."
"The destiny of this world is too end, what exactly, pray tell comes after that?" She raised an eyebrow.
Sethyas could not answer the question, which she took as a victory and smiled.
"Abiene...." He started. "You have your answers. You've seen the emptiness of her spirit, and the narrow path of her darkened mind. You know what she is capable of and what she seeks."
"This person is beyond redemption, indeed believes that she has no need of it....we are the ones who are lost too her...I cannot let her go, and she cannot be imprisoned. There is only one alternative in her case..." He trailed off.
"Oh yes, I saw this one coming..." Kelkemmenar smiled. "My death here will grant you no victory. I am but a symptom. A few spots on the skin that betrays the deeper cause beneath. We are coming. Like a great wave that will destroy you all...we defeated a Daedric Lord on our own lands....what are you?" She stared defiantly.
"Nothing." She whispered harshly.
The Altmer kept her silence and glared in return.
"I can see the hate in your eyes." He said pointing two fingers at them. "Hate is a concentrated form of anger. A tumor, a callous. Anger...is the other side of fear. You are afraid. Of everything. You call upon your hate to give you strength to save you, yet you'll find it is the reason you sit there now."
"I'll give you one chance to see reason and perhaps it may work with you as it did Earana...Oh yes, she was here. She's gone now. Let me burn that abomination you turned her into. Despite your hold over her, she resisted and took her destiny into her own hands. She passed because it was her choice. She showed me her true power in her final moments." He said calmly enough.
"I do believe the Lady asked you a question." Sethyas said placing a hand upon Abiene's shoulder gently, and show the Altmer the eyes that didn't blink in the face of death.
"We'll start with something simple. What is your name...your real one." he commanded.
She defied him with her silence. He produced the blade again and hovered it over thigh. "Perhaps you think that I'm not deadly serious about all this. Plus it seems you developed this poison very well, I think it would be possible to pump you full of it, and you would still be alive. Shall I test my hypothesis?" He asked her.
"Kelkemmenar." The name escaped through her gritted teeth.
"Kelkemmenar." He repeated. "Number fifty-six. An old name. Back when the Altmer still named themselves in progression of family members numbers." Sethyas stroked his chin.
"And by old, I mean four times older then what most mortals consider old." He squinted his eyes. "You're from the second era." he vocalized his analysis.
She seemed to widen her eyes just a bit, to which Sethyas gave the slightest of smiles.
"Oh yes, I'm not just some brute. You'll find I've been around as well, not so much as you however." He replied, and his hand returned the blade to a resting position.
"Now then, Kelkemmenar: Why?" He grated.
"Why poison this innocent? To gain her position is obvious. We figured that much out. What you desired the position for is also obvious: To use the knowledge to further your Necromantic powers. No, I'm afraid the core question is: What would motivate you to take it this far? What was your endgame. Whereas Earana was simply mad for power and let that blind her, you're far more subtle. You did think this through. Which is what I find to be most admirable and disturbing about all this."
The Altmer stared back at him for several seconds, seeming to try to find an equilibrium with her pain and her reason.
"If you think any of this had anything to do with her on a personal basis, you're quite mistaken. I don't consider her to be anything but an insect. An insect that got in my way. Do you stop and consider your own superiority to a dragonfly? Or do you merely continue forward with your own goals?" She explained.
"Then your association with the Dark Brotherhood...the Necromancers?" Sethyas folded one leg over the other and blew out a plume of smoke from a hackle-lo he lit.
"Merely means to further my true goal. I needed the knowledge of Mannimarco's Adherents. Anyone can mumble some incantations from a book over a corpse. Mannimarco's work is...transcendent. As far beyond the basic perception of Necromancy as is Selvilo's work in Regeneration is to Restoration." She recounted.
"Now imagine: Armies of the Undead raised again. And again. And again. And again." She said with a sick, prideful smile.
"And that is just scratching the surface, I'm afraid. Nor even my true intention. A way to finance my work and offer protection...though I admit I was hasty with my subjects you two so cleverly set yourselves up to mimic." She shook her head.
"Then....what is the endgame?" Sethyas said.
" How much do you know about the Missing God?" She asked.
"Lorkhan? The Doom drum. Your kind reviles him in your religion for losing their status as et'Ada; the Ancestral Spirits." Sethyas replied, cocking his head in interest.
"It is said that Arkay was once a man. Not quite mortal as the rest of us are, as he is the one who apparently came up with the concept. Life, Death, and Rebirth. Why?" She smiled.
"And you've heard of the Nordic tales...'What Happens When You Shake The Dragon Just So' who stole from them a natural long life to but six years, but then reclaimed it and shook the negative years onto the Orcs..." She explained.
"...and of Auri-El? Who led the original Aldmer against the armies of Lorkhan in mythic times, vanquishing that tyrant and establishing the first kingdoms of the Altmer, Altmora and Old Ehlnofey. He then ascended to heaven in full observance of his followers so that they might learn the steps needed to escape the mortal plane."
Sethyas eyes moved carefully to her lips as she spoke.
"I seek to end this insane cycle." She said quietly and smiled.
Sethyas eyes narrowed. "You're a Thalmor." he accused.
"One of the first." She confirmed.
Abiene still shook slightly underneath his hand, and didn't seem to understand what was happening. The Altmer were among the Eldest Civilizations in Nirn's history. Their civilization was a work of wonder. They were also the ones most in tune with magicka and Aetherius, the source of all magicka.
That attunement had a dark side however. Given that the world came from that great beyond, they held a cultural memory of that former state. They wanted to go back into the womb, as it were. The Thalmor were a small but outspoken group of Altmer within the Summurset Isles. They could be likened to a political party, but one that was too extreme for even among the most severe of Altmer.
They openly called for the genocide of Mankind, and the Superiority of Merkind. They sought what they thought was the destiny of the World: To end it, so that all may return to a state that in their eyes held the ultimate meaning.
Even the Dwemer had followed this creed: refusing to believe that they were anything less than Divine Spirits, and Sethyas suspected that had led them to their sudden extinction.
"You're insane." Sethyas shook his head. "How many others have followed your line of reasoning and failed miserably. You are not a god, and you will not transcend to their place."
"Insane? I'm merely eliminating Necromancy as a possibility. As any good scientist would." She said calmly. "As you noticed, I've been around a very long time. I've learned that there are many possible avenues to the goal we seek. Necromancy both defies and mimics Arkay's Law, thus disqualifying it as a valid concept. Death is an illusion in more ways than one. If a thing can be bent, adapted and outright ignored, it is not an Earth-Bone, a Law of the Ehlnofey." She explained, naming the very laws of physics that governed their world.
"It is true I am not a god; at least not right now, but we fell from our station because of Lorkhan's trickery." She said with a bit of anger.
"Just as you, Dunmer, fell from your station as an Aldmer for throwing your lot in with the Daedra. But even you must know,...must sense, on some level how your very nature is superior to these Mannish races...and that thing." She glanced with a special contempt towards Maxical.
Sethyas smacked her hard in reaction. "Do not insult them again." he whispered, pointing at her as a trickle of blood fell down from her lip that curled up into a smile.
"You have no compassion, no empathy. You are lost." He shook his head.
"No." She corrected him. "I am not lost. I am not under the sway of a mere emotion, you....you are quite lost. Blinded by these petty passions and needless squanderings."
"So...there you have it. The 'why'. The 'endgame'. My work is necessary. It will free us all, send us back to where we came. All I do, is follow the destiny of Nirn. We are the only sphere, the only plane[t] that has a concept of: End. Limitation. Finite."
"The destiny of this world is too end, what exactly, pray tell comes after that?" She raised an eyebrow.
Sethyas could not answer the question, which she took as a victory and smiled.
"Abiene...." He started. "You have your answers. You've seen the emptiness of her spirit, and the narrow path of her darkened mind. You know what she is capable of and what she seeks."
"This person is beyond redemption, indeed believes that she has no need of it....we are the ones who are lost too her...I cannot let her go, and she cannot be imprisoned. There is only one alternative in her case..." He trailed off.
"Oh yes, I saw this one coming..." Kelkemmenar smiled. "My death here will grant you no victory. I am but a symptom. A few spots on the skin that betrays the deeper cause beneath. We are coming. Like a great wave that will destroy you all...we defeated a Daedric Lord on our own lands....what are you?" She stared defiantly.
"Nothing." She whispered harshly.
*
Maxical:
Maxical threw her pack to the floor and dug frantically in it, finally removing a huge square item wrapped in a blanket of fine cloth.
She lay it carefully on the floor and unwrapped the folds of cloth to reveal a huge tome with ancient writings engraved on a leather cover so old it looked like it may crumble if touched.
Maxical stood back from the tome and glanced up apologetically at Eyja and Seth as the tome opened itself and the pages began turning; freezing them into position as if paralyzed in mid action.
Eyja's mouth was open, her hand raised. Seth's eyes still glittered into those of the Altmer before him. Abiene's face was frozen in disgust staring at the woman.
A lich materialized in the midst of their statuesque figures, its robe and cowl of thick velvet in a deep cherry-black with high shoulder wings; the soul gem hanging on a chain around his neck glowed red, a twin stone to the Chim-el Adabal that had once been the center stone of the Amulet of Kings.
"Mannimarco, I beg your presence that I might negotiate for the soul of Gils. Please, Your Grace."
The glowing blue eyes took in the frozen faces before him. “I see you have brought me several interesting souls, my dear friend." His skeleton mouth never moved, the voice was more of an eerie vibration in the air than a sound.
“Souls? OH! Er, no Your Grace; these are not mine to deal with. Just the one tied up in the chair about to be killed. She seeks your power and immortality; wishes to be a god. She is to die anyway..."
"My dear friend, you still worry about good and evil, but they are manifestations of the same thing; power.”
"I admit it is at cost to me. Do we have a deal?"
*
Mannimarco leaned back, pressing his skeleton hands together in an arch that made them look like a spider exercising on top of a looking glass. He waved his hand and the Altmer woman was released from her paralysis; though the others remained frozen.
Mannimarco leaned over her, and Maxical saw the fright in her eyes as she realized who was standing before her. The blue glowing eyes bored into hers, reading her every thought through every barrier she threw up to keep them secret; reaching them all.
"My friend says you seek power as great as my own; yet you are tied in a chair, and by mortals. Your greed for power brought you to my door many times, have you learned nothing from the Master? I seek power, and so I acquire and study those who have some degree of it."
The skeleton teeth bared at her in a humorless grin. "You have only achieved power over the weakest. To learn true power you must become a part of me, and to do that you must vow your alliegence. Are you willing to do that?"
Maxical turned, not wanting to watch but unable to stop herself as Mannimarco's skeleton hand clasped the Altmer's hand that was barely able to raise in the vow for the bindings around her. A sizzling hiss and vapor rose where her hand touched his, and her mouth opened in pain but no scream came out.
The skull mouth opened to a gaping chasm and covered her mouth, pressing her head back hard till her neck almost snapped with the pressure as he sucked the soul from her.
Maxical was unable to wipe the horror from her eyes, though she'd seen it enough times now. It still always struck her with a sickening in her stomach, and she hoped that feeling would never go away. She didn't want to become inured to that side of necromancy.
*
Mannimarco straightened and turned back toward her. "You have your deal, my dear friend. Your husband's soul will be returned to you."
"Thank you, Your Grace. Will I...that is, will you be taking your tome now?"
"Yes, my dear friend. Our negotiations are finished now. Will you swear the vow to receive his soul?"
Maxical smiled at him and shook her head no. "I have learned well from you, Your Grace. I do not swear vows anymore."
He reached out with one skeleton hand toward the center of her chest, but didn't touch her. What looked like a silvery spider web left the tips of his fingers and entered her chest, filling her up inside with a feeling of joy she never thought she'd feel again. Gils.
The pages of the tome began fluttering as Mannimarco's image disintegrated before her eyes, the tome in the process of closing itself as the paralysis left the others and they began looking around.
Mannimarco was either inside the tome, or he was the tome; she'd never known which. Without a sound it evaporated from its place on the floor, leaving only the blanket of fine cloth behind.
Maxical picked up the cloth, her eyes falling guiltily on the Altmer woman's now vacant expression, the burns around her mouth and on her palm. Guilt, but mixed with the joy of knowing Gils' soul was free now. Inside her, but free from any other's use.
She stood back to let Seth finish the job he'd started on the Altmer.
*
Mannimarco:
http://i434.photobucket.com/albums/qq67/Ma...-1196848157.jpg
*
Maxical:
Maxical threw her pack to the floor and dug frantically in it, finally removing a huge square item wrapped in a blanket of fine cloth.
She lay it carefully on the floor and unwrapped the folds of cloth to reveal a huge tome with ancient writings engraved on a leather cover so old it looked like it may crumble if touched.
Maxical stood back from the tome and glanced up apologetically at Eyja and Seth as the tome opened itself and the pages began turning; freezing them into position as if paralyzed in mid action.
Eyja's mouth was open, her hand raised. Seth's eyes still glittered into those of the Altmer before him. Abiene's face was frozen in disgust staring at the woman.
A lich materialized in the midst of their statuesque figures, its robe and cowl of thick velvet in a deep cherry-black with high shoulder wings; the soul gem hanging on a chain around his neck glowed red, a twin stone to the Chim-el Adabal that had once been the center stone of the Amulet of Kings.
"Mannimarco, I beg your presence that I might negotiate for the soul of Gils. Please, Your Grace."
The glowing blue eyes took in the frozen faces before him. “I see you have brought me several interesting souls, my dear friend." His skeleton mouth never moved, the voice was more of an eerie vibration in the air than a sound.
“Souls? OH! Er, no Your Grace; these are not mine to deal with. Just the one tied up in the chair about to be killed. She seeks your power and immortality; wishes to be a god. She is to die anyway..."
"My dear friend, you still worry about good and evil, but they are manifestations of the same thing; power.”
"I admit it is at cost to me. Do we have a deal?"
*
Mannimarco leaned back, pressing his skeleton hands together in an arch that made them look like a spider exercising on top of a looking glass. He waved his hand and the Altmer woman was released from her paralysis; though the others remained frozen.
Mannimarco leaned over her, and Maxical saw the fright in her eyes as she realized who was standing before her. The blue glowing eyes bored into hers, reading her every thought through every barrier she threw up to keep them secret; reaching them all.
"My friend says you seek power as great as my own; yet you are tied in a chair, and by mortals. Your greed for power brought you to my door many times, have you learned nothing from the Master? I seek power, and so I acquire and study those who have some degree of it."
The skeleton teeth bared at her in a humorless grin. "You have only achieved power over the weakest. To learn true power you must become a part of me, and to do that you must vow your alliegence. Are you willing to do that?"
Maxical turned, not wanting to watch but unable to stop herself as Mannimarco's skeleton hand clasped the Altmer's hand that was barely able to raise in the vow for the bindings around her. A sizzling hiss and vapor rose where her hand touched his, and her mouth opened in pain but no scream came out.
The skull mouth opened to a gaping chasm and covered her mouth, pressing her head back hard till her neck almost snapped with the pressure as he sucked the soul from her.
Maxical was unable to wipe the horror from her eyes, though she'd seen it enough times now. It still always struck her with a sickening in her stomach, and she hoped that feeling would never go away. She didn't want to become inured to that side of necromancy.
*
Mannimarco straightened and turned back toward her. "You have your deal, my dear friend. Your husband's soul will be returned to you."
"Thank you, Your Grace. Will I...that is, will you be taking your tome now?"
"Yes, my dear friend. Our negotiations are finished now. Will you swear the vow to receive his soul?"
Maxical smiled at him and shook her head no. "I have learned well from you, Your Grace. I do not swear vows anymore."
He reached out with one skeleton hand toward the center of her chest, but didn't touch her. What looked like a silvery spider web left the tips of his fingers and entered her chest, filling her up inside with a feeling of joy she never thought she'd feel again. Gils.
The pages of the tome began fluttering as Mannimarco's image disintegrated before her eyes, the tome in the process of closing itself as the paralysis left the others and they began looking around.
Mannimarco was either inside the tome, or he was the tome; she'd never known which. Without a sound it evaporated from its place on the floor, leaving only the blanket of fine cloth behind.
Maxical picked up the cloth, her eyes falling guiltily on the Altmer woman's now vacant expression, the burns around her mouth and on her palm. Guilt, but mixed with the joy of knowing Gils' soul was free now. Inside her, but free from any other's use.
She stood back to let Seth finish the job he'd started on the Altmer.
*
Mannimarco:
http://i434.photobucket.com/albums/qq67/Ma...-1196848157.jpg
*
Something had changed. The faintest change of the flicker of the candles. A hair almost imperceptibly in a different place. Inhaling when she had been exhaling....
Sethyas looked down at Abiene. She still had the look of disgust upon her face. He looked over his shoulder at the duo guarding the scene. Eyja didn't seem to notice anything, but then again, she was still dressed up like the Altmer so her normal facial expressions would be muted or altered.
His eyes met Maxical's. She held relief, fear and remorse at the same time. Something had happened. Something that she alone knew. He blinked slowly as though to signal his silence. The Khajiit was beholden to forces far greater than he knew, or cared too. She had openly declared that he would be no match for them, out of concern.
He believed her.
"Leave. Now." He commanded quietly to them all.
He stood up and gazed down at Kelkemmenar, while Abiene quietly acquiesced falling into the supportive arms of Eyja and Maxical. She stopped for a moment, and looked back with a quiet despair in her eyes. Sethyas returned her gaze. The shadow had fallen over his eyes once more, and the Necromancer's fate was clear.
Leave. You cannot see this.
We hold the same skills, possess the same knowledge. Yet, we are opposites. Yet, we perform our professions for the same reason.
To protect.
I,...am your Black Hand.
The three left, and Eyja closed the door behind them leaving with her own final glance.
The door slammed shut, and Sethyas went too work.
_______________________________________________________________________
An hour later, he returned through the back door quietly as he'd left. There was a pot of coffee on, and he let the smell drift into his nose as he poured a cup. Letting the rich scent overpower the smell of flames and viscera.
He closed his eyes for a moment as if in silent prayer.
"It is done." He said simply.
Sethyas looked down at Abiene. She still had the look of disgust upon her face. He looked over his shoulder at the duo guarding the scene. Eyja didn't seem to notice anything, but then again, she was still dressed up like the Altmer so her normal facial expressions would be muted or altered.
His eyes met Maxical's. She held relief, fear and remorse at the same time. Something had happened. Something that she alone knew. He blinked slowly as though to signal his silence. The Khajiit was beholden to forces far greater than he knew, or cared too. She had openly declared that he would be no match for them, out of concern.
He believed her.
"Leave. Now." He commanded quietly to them all.
He stood up and gazed down at Kelkemmenar, while Abiene quietly acquiesced falling into the supportive arms of Eyja and Maxical. She stopped for a moment, and looked back with a quiet despair in her eyes. Sethyas returned her gaze. The shadow had fallen over his eyes once more, and the Necromancer's fate was clear.
Leave. You cannot see this.
We hold the same skills, possess the same knowledge. Yet, we are opposites. Yet, we perform our professions for the same reason.
To protect.
I,...am your Black Hand.
The three left, and Eyja closed the door behind them leaving with her own final glance.
The door slammed shut, and Sethyas went too work.
_______________________________________________________________________
An hour later, he returned through the back door quietly as he'd left. There was a pot of coffee on, and he let the smell drift into his nose as he poured a cup. Letting the rich scent overpower the smell of flames and viscera.
He closed his eyes for a moment as if in silent prayer.
"It is done." He said simply.
*
Maxical:
Maxical sat silent, her hands cradlled against her chest as if holding something precious there. Her eyes were torn between guilt and joy, relief...and pain, for crossing lines she hoped never to even know of again.
*
Eyja:
Eyja put the coffee on the fire to warm and set to work scrubbing the kitchen, every trace of today's works from it so there would be no evidence or bad memory attached to it.
"Maxical, you'd better undo those traps now, get the stuff back where it goes. Maxical, did you hear me?"
Eyja shook Maxical to wake her up. "Go dismantle those traps. Put the urns back."
*
As Abiene listened to Kelkemmenar she felt her rage fade to disgust, and then despair. How many centuries had this woman lived without love, without joy? Abiene knew the Divinity that lived within her, and she had touched that same spark in others. But there was no way to reach Kelkemmenar with what her heart simply knew.
Sethyas spoke. “This person is beyond redemption, indeed believes that she has no need of it....we are the ones who are lost to her...I cannot let her go, and she cannot be imprisoned. There is only one alternative in her case...” His voice trailed off.
And there was the light. No matter how twisted, every soul had the hope of a new beginning. The Dreamsleeve washed away all wrongs. Abiene fought death as if it was her enemy, as if it was the end. But it was only a transition, a passage to another life. Perhaps even a cure for a withered heart that had gone on far too long.
Kelhemmenar’s reply was as defiant as it was scornful. “My death here will grant you no victory…”
No victory, for I cannot fight such hate. Your death will be a gift. Abiene drew a breath.
In a blink the Altmer’s face was vacant. What happened? Is she… gone?
Seth’s fingers dug painfully into her shoulder. “Leave. Now,” he commanded.
Abiene obeyed. Maxical’s eyes slid away from hers, tragic with triumph and guilt.
She turned back at the door. Seth’s face was a mask again. As he had told her, he would bear the burden she could not and do what was necessary regardless of personal cost. How do you come back from this? she wondered. How will I even start?
They returned to the room after Sethyas had gone. Eyja put the coffee on and went to work. Abiene changed back into her clothing and followed suit. Her mind was numb. She wanted to keep it that way.
Some time later Sethyas returned. He stood with a cup of coffee for a moment as if in prayer. “It is done,” he said.
Abiene placed his ring and scroll on the table so that he saw. She walked over to speak.
‘Thanks’ seemed inadequate and ‘I’m sorry’ was worse. She stood with her mouth open, empty of even words.
“I’m going to get some air,” she said.
Sethyas spoke. “This person is beyond redemption, indeed believes that she has no need of it....we are the ones who are lost to her...I cannot let her go, and she cannot be imprisoned. There is only one alternative in her case...” His voice trailed off.
And there was the light. No matter how twisted, every soul had the hope of a new beginning. The Dreamsleeve washed away all wrongs. Abiene fought death as if it was her enemy, as if it was the end. But it was only a transition, a passage to another life. Perhaps even a cure for a withered heart that had gone on far too long.
Kelhemmenar’s reply was as defiant as it was scornful. “My death here will grant you no victory…”
No victory, for I cannot fight such hate. Your death will be a gift. Abiene drew a breath.
In a blink the Altmer’s face was vacant. What happened? Is she… gone?
Seth’s fingers dug painfully into her shoulder. “Leave. Now,” he commanded.
Abiene obeyed. Maxical’s eyes slid away from hers, tragic with triumph and guilt.
She turned back at the door. Seth’s face was a mask again. As he had told her, he would bear the burden she could not and do what was necessary regardless of personal cost. How do you come back from this? she wondered. How will I even start?
They returned to the room after Sethyas had gone. Eyja put the coffee on and went to work. Abiene changed back into her clothing and followed suit. Her mind was numb. She wanted to keep it that way.
Some time later Sethyas returned. He stood with a cup of coffee for a moment as if in prayer. “It is done,” he said.
Abiene placed his ring and scroll on the table so that he saw. She walked over to speak.
‘Thanks’ seemed inadequate and ‘I’m sorry’ was worse. She stood with her mouth open, empty of even words.
“I’m going to get some air,” she said.
Sethyas nodded at Abiene's declaration, as quickly as he could he slipped the ring into the palm of his hand, utilizing skills honed to perfection in the Guild and took her hand in his for a moment before she turned to leave.
"It isn't supposed to get easier...just so you know. Just more tolerable. But, so long as it hurts, so long as the splinter is wedged into your soul...that means you're still a good person. Hers must have had hundreds; perhaps thousands of splinters, and she felt nothing. That is the face of Love's true opposite: Indifference."
His eyes met hers once more and the shadow had lifted.
"Keep this trinket. Perhaps it can continue to shepherd you in my absence, perhaps you can sell it for much needed gold for the poor. I will not suffer from its being passed to you, but couldn't stand the thought that you or one under your care would suffer if you did not accept it."
"I'll be leaving in short enough measure. Certainly I'll be sleeping, or at least trying too tonight and then fulfill my purpose here." He nodded to the urn in his room.
"I am glad to have met you, good Abiene. Even more so that your intended fate was averted. The rest...is in silence." He smiled sadly.
You don't owe me a thing. Just continue being who you are, and your selfless good works. Perhaps I will have had a hand in some small way in that light remaining on in the world.
He finished his cup, and set it down wishing the others good night.
"It isn't supposed to get easier...just so you know. Just more tolerable. But, so long as it hurts, so long as the splinter is wedged into your soul...that means you're still a good person. Hers must have had hundreds; perhaps thousands of splinters, and she felt nothing. That is the face of Love's true opposite: Indifference."
His eyes met hers once more and the shadow had lifted.
"Keep this trinket. Perhaps it can continue to shepherd you in my absence, perhaps you can sell it for much needed gold for the poor. I will not suffer from its being passed to you, but couldn't stand the thought that you or one under your care would suffer if you did not accept it."
"I'll be leaving in short enough measure. Certainly I'll be sleeping, or at least trying too tonight and then fulfill my purpose here." He nodded to the urn in his room.
"I am glad to have met you, good Abiene. Even more so that your intended fate was averted. The rest...is in silence." He smiled sadly.
You don't owe me a thing. Just continue being who you are, and your selfless good works. Perhaps I will have had a hand in some small way in that light remaining on in the world.
He finished his cup, and set it down wishing the others good night.
*
Maxical:
Maxical lay Seth's red robe armor across her bed and changed into Eyja's now torn and dirty maid outfit. She dismantled the exploding traps upstairs first, then moved slowly downstairs; still in the fog of disbelief that it was finally over.
Seth entered the back door just as she was about to go out to dismantle the ground floor traps. Maxical could feel the regret emanating from Seth, an echo of her own. They had both done something they hated for the better good of an innocent.
Still, the guilt of her own actions ate at her, and she couldn't look him in the eye as she passed out the door to begin dismantling and returning the urns and hand irons. She had the feeling he knew something had taken place; noticed the burns on the Altmer's hand and mouth, or the vacant eyes.
Maxical didn't know if he'd understand or censure her, and didn't want to risk losing his friendship by explaining.
With her head down, she whispered his name and then hurried past him and out the door.
*
With his nearly final farewells in place he left the suite to let Eyja have her own time to herself. He still had some bottles left over that would make some fine companions this evening.
As he began to return to his room, Maxical in her maid disguise started to slowly saunter by, her eyes looking down at the ground refusing to look up. He started to put his key into the door but stopped right as she was behind him.
"Whatever happened, happened. I don't know what it is, and if you're not proud of it that is fine. I'm in no position to judge anyone, and I thought my lifes tale was a strange one. Until the day I met a white Khajiit who took one look at me and told me Mephala's nursery rhyme." He said, neither of them turning around.
She took him into a disproportionately strong hug, and began to cry.
"I missed him so much." She whispered.
Seth was taken aback for a moment, but returned her embrace.
"Don't you mean 'miss'?" he asked.
"Shhhhh." She said. "Just let me smell him on you for a moment longer."
Sethyas acquiesced, and they continued.
She let go and rubbed the tears from one eye with a finger and gave him a sad smile.
"Please don't ever hate me. Please say we're friends." She pleaded.
He returned her sad smile. "I will. And I might even be telling the truth." he jested, and she gave a small laugh.
As he began to return to his room, Maxical in her maid disguise started to slowly saunter by, her eyes looking down at the ground refusing to look up. He started to put his key into the door but stopped right as she was behind him.
"Whatever happened, happened. I don't know what it is, and if you're not proud of it that is fine. I'm in no position to judge anyone, and I thought my lifes tale was a strange one. Until the day I met a white Khajiit who took one look at me and told me Mephala's nursery rhyme." He said, neither of them turning around.
She took him into a disproportionately strong hug, and began to cry.
"I missed him so much." She whispered.
Seth was taken aback for a moment, but returned her embrace.
"Don't you mean 'miss'?" he asked.
"Shhhhh." She said. "Just let me smell him on you for a moment longer."
Sethyas acquiesced, and they continued.
She let go and rubbed the tears from one eye with a finger and gave him a sad smile.
"Please don't ever hate me. Please say we're friends." She pleaded.
He returned her sad smile. "I will. And I might even be telling the truth." he jested, and she gave a small laugh.
Abiene walked out around the side of the inn toward the fish pond. Even after just a few days cooped up indoors she felt she hadn’t seen the sky in ages. The sinking sun painted the clouds with glorious color. Somewhere nearby the remains of Kelkemmenar must lie, her eyes blind to this and every sunset that would come. Abiene counted her life in decades, but she couldn’t imagine that in any number of centuries she would lose her sense of wonder. How sad that there were those who wished to bring about the end of all things. And how terrifying.
Thanks to Eyja, Maxical, and Sethyas this one had failed and Abiene, however insignificant to their cause, still lived. She couldn’t help but count the cost of what Seth did. It showed in his shadowed eyes, in his often formal manner, and in the way his features so readily froze into an inscrutable mask.
Abiene ran her thumb across the gems on Seth’s ring, remembering his words. She knew that she would never let it go for any amount of gold. True it might turn a blade or reflect a hostile spell meant for her, but each day it would also remind her of the light in his eyes and the smile that told her the world still hadn’t ended. She had gazed into darkness but he walked through and returned, time after time.
“I am glad to have met you, good Abiene,” he had said. “Even more so that your intended fate was averted. The rest...is in silence.”
Then she had seen how they were opposite sides of the same circle, facing apart but joined in understanding. Gratitude had filled her heart, and she had reached up impulsively and kissed his cheek in the manner of a cherished friend.
Crickets began their twilight song, bringing the ghost of a smile. It felt good to be alive. I’d like to go for a swim, drink a bottle of wine, and make love under the stars until morning, she thought. Perhaps I’ll get the wine.
But there was someone whose pain she had overlooked in her own confusion. Maxical’s heart was in her beautiful eyes, and tonight she wouldn’t look at them. Something was still very wrong. It was time to track down Maxical.
Thanks to Eyja, Maxical, and Sethyas this one had failed and Abiene, however insignificant to their cause, still lived. She couldn’t help but count the cost of what Seth did. It showed in his shadowed eyes, in his often formal manner, and in the way his features so readily froze into an inscrutable mask.
Abiene ran her thumb across the gems on Seth’s ring, remembering his words. She knew that she would never let it go for any amount of gold. True it might turn a blade or reflect a hostile spell meant for her, but each day it would also remind her of the light in his eyes and the smile that told her the world still hadn’t ended. She had gazed into darkness but he walked through and returned, time after time.
“I am glad to have met you, good Abiene,” he had said. “Even more so that your intended fate was averted. The rest...is in silence.”
Then she had seen how they were opposite sides of the same circle, facing apart but joined in understanding. Gratitude had filled her heart, and she had reached up impulsively and kissed his cheek in the manner of a cherished friend.
Crickets began their twilight song, bringing the ghost of a smile. It felt good to be alive. I’d like to go for a swim, drink a bottle of wine, and make love under the stars until morning, she thought. Perhaps I’ll get the wine.
But there was someone whose pain she had overlooked in her own confusion. Maxical’s heart was in her beautiful eyes, and tonight she wouldn’t look at them. Something was still very wrong. It was time to track down Maxical.
.
*
Maxical:
Maxical felt the shame of what she'd done wash over her. Gils' soul was safe from use by Malan against her; from use by Mannimarco as a thrall...but the cost to her was one she would never forget, maybe never be able to face herself in the looking glass again.
Would Gils have approved? She didn't know. But somehow she was going to find a way to get his soul where it belonged, in the Dreamsleeve. Somehow.
She saw Seth approaching and kept her eyes to the ground, hoping he'd think she hadn't seen him there. He knew. He knew something, she had seen it in his eyes when Mannimarco removed his paralysis.
Inside herself pain and shame twisted a knot in her stomach. She hadn't known Seth long, but his friendship was important to her. It had nothing to do with his smelling like Gils, but something in his eyes that told her he never forgot someone he considered friend.
He had put his life on the line for them in that same short time they'd known him. One didn't need to know more than that. And she knew his heart burned from the acts he committed the same way hers did. The same way Eyja's did. There are some things you just know about another.
Seth spoke to her, his gravely voice so soft and deep in the dim corridor. It was like a balm that soothed. He was good at that, reaching the rawest places in one and making them feel everything would be all right. Making them feel he understood the motive even if not agreeing with the action itself.
Without even knowing it was coming she found herself crying for the year or more of doing things she could barely live with to bring Gils' soul back where it would be safe; and Seth held her tightly while she cried.
The smell of him filled her nostrils, so familiar in them even after all this time Gils had been gone. The feel of his arms so strong, such a comfort after what she had just done.
He knew. Somehow he knew.
"I just don't want you to hate me, Seth. I don't want to lose your friendship for it. Will you promise me that?"
She wiped her eyes on the knuckle of one hand and looked up into his face, reading the kindness in his eyes, the understanding there.
"I will. And I might even be telling the truth." The smile in his eyes and quirk of his lips let her know he jested.
Maxical squeezed him tightly. "Good then. I don't want to ever lose your friendship. I did what I had to do for the last time, it's over now. And maybe I can live with what I've done if I know you'd forgive me for it."
*
Maxical:
Maxical felt the shame of what she'd done wash over her. Gils' soul was safe from use by Malan against her; from use by Mannimarco as a thrall...but the cost to her was one she would never forget, maybe never be able to face herself in the looking glass again.
Would Gils have approved? She didn't know. But somehow she was going to find a way to get his soul where it belonged, in the Dreamsleeve. Somehow.
She saw Seth approaching and kept her eyes to the ground, hoping he'd think she hadn't seen him there. He knew. He knew something, she had seen it in his eyes when Mannimarco removed his paralysis.
Inside herself pain and shame twisted a knot in her stomach. She hadn't known Seth long, but his friendship was important to her. It had nothing to do with his smelling like Gils, but something in his eyes that told her he never forgot someone he considered friend.
He had put his life on the line for them in that same short time they'd known him. One didn't need to know more than that. And she knew his heart burned from the acts he committed the same way hers did. The same way Eyja's did. There are some things you just know about another.
Seth spoke to her, his gravely voice so soft and deep in the dim corridor. It was like a balm that soothed. He was good at that, reaching the rawest places in one and making them feel everything would be all right. Making them feel he understood the motive even if not agreeing with the action itself.
Without even knowing it was coming she found herself crying for the year or more of doing things she could barely live with to bring Gils' soul back where it would be safe; and Seth held her tightly while she cried.
The smell of him filled her nostrils, so familiar in them even after all this time Gils had been gone. The feel of his arms so strong, such a comfort after what she had just done.
He knew. Somehow he knew.
"I just don't want you to hate me, Seth. I don't want to lose your friendship for it. Will you promise me that?"
She wiped her eyes on the knuckle of one hand and looked up into his face, reading the kindness in his eyes, the understanding there.
"I will. And I might even be telling the truth." The smile in his eyes and quirk of his lips let her know he jested.
Maxical squeezed him tightly. "Good then. I don't want to ever lose your friendship. I did what I had to do for the last time, it's over now. And maybe I can live with what I've done if I know you'd forgive me for it."
*
*
Maxical:
Assassins tended to disappear like vaporous ghosts once a mission was over, with never the chance for goodbyes or well wishes. It was the same for Maxical since her service for Akatosh began. This life wasn't conductive to fragile beginnings. Time knowing or passed was irrelevant.
This lifestyle consolidated and condensed till friendships were fractal wavelengths of thought; quality of moments together rather than the amount of time spent in someone's company or the frequency of contact. The seconds passed too fleetingly from sight and sound to cherished memories of one you may never see again. Should your paths cross again decades down the road, it would feel as if only a moment passed since the last meeting. True friends. Seth was one of these.
Maxical squeezed him tightly and kissed his cheek.
"It has been a pleasure meeting you; and I will always remember you as friend, Serjo Sethyas Velas. Wherever I am, my door will always be open to you. Hail to you then. Hail, and long life to you if we don't meet again."
She stepped back and pounded her fist to her chest in respect before moving past him to their room door.
*
Maxical opened the door to the suite, stepping into the kitchen that had been a gory mess not hours ago. She glanced around at the now spotless kitchen one would be tempted to eat off the floor from if they didn't know what had just occurred here. Eyja had scrubbed off the Altmer disguise; bathed and changed into her own clothing already.
Eyja could clean a crime scene almost magically. Maybe she did use magic of some sort, but Maxical had watched a few times and only seen her scrubbing like a whirlwind.
The smell of home cooking was coming from the hearth, Maxical hooked the lid of the pot with a fireplace poker and peeked in.
"Shepherd's Pie, huh?"
Eyja nodded, pouring her a coffee. "We made it through, and this one wasn't even ours."
She watched Maxical carefully before asking,
"What did you do, Maxical? I know it was you, I saw you put that huge tome on the floor. Suddenly the tome was disintegrating and that Altmer had burns all around her mouth and hand. Her eyes were vacant, dead as a zombie. Did you steal her soul?"
Maxical shifted uncomfortably. "You know better than to ask that, Eyja. I couldn't bring myself to do anything like that."
Eyja nodded. "I know, but then why did you look so guilty? You still do. Who did it for you, and what did you gain from it?"
"If I told you who, you'd never believe me."
"Then what did you gain?"
"Gils, Eyja. I have his soul now. I have to get him to the Dreamsleeve...somehow."
Eyja exhaled in a gust; it was hard to tell by her expression whether it was in relief or shock. Maxical dug in her pack and pulled out a weathered parchment and unfolded it. She handed it to Eyja.
"I'm going to need you to get me this list of ingredients. Two of these ingredients are rare, and one will be hard to get after what we've just been through."
*******************************
(Jacinth - Rising Sun)
Orc's blood
Amber
(Snow - Grass)
Unicorn's horn
Hist Sap
(Night - Mid-day Sky)
Daedra's heart
Ectoplasm
The jacinth wakes the rising sun, and snow blankets the grass. But night o'ertakes the mid-day sky, and the gate is opened last.
*********************************
Eyja pulled out her own notepad and copied the ingredients down.
"I'll get them as soon as I can."
"Hurry. I want Gils' soul safe before Malan realizes I have it."
Eyja nodded. "I will. I'd like to catch Seth before he leaves, say goodbye. You know how fleeting a chance I'll have to do that."
Maxical nodded, finishing off her coffee. "I've already said my goodbyes to him just in case he left in the night. I'm going to bathe and go to bed. It feels like I haven't slept in days." She hugged Eyja tightly before making her way to the bath.
*
Maxical:
Assassins tended to disappear like vaporous ghosts once a mission was over, with never the chance for goodbyes or well wishes. It was the same for Maxical since her service for Akatosh began. This life wasn't conductive to fragile beginnings. Time knowing or passed was irrelevant.
This lifestyle consolidated and condensed till friendships were fractal wavelengths of thought; quality of moments together rather than the amount of time spent in someone's company or the frequency of contact. The seconds passed too fleetingly from sight and sound to cherished memories of one you may never see again. Should your paths cross again decades down the road, it would feel as if only a moment passed since the last meeting. True friends. Seth was one of these.
Maxical squeezed him tightly and kissed his cheek.
"It has been a pleasure meeting you; and I will always remember you as friend, Serjo Sethyas Velas. Wherever I am, my door will always be open to you. Hail to you then. Hail, and long life to you if we don't meet again."
She stepped back and pounded her fist to her chest in respect before moving past him to their room door.
*
Maxical opened the door to the suite, stepping into the kitchen that had been a gory mess not hours ago. She glanced around at the now spotless kitchen one would be tempted to eat off the floor from if they didn't know what had just occurred here. Eyja had scrubbed off the Altmer disguise; bathed and changed into her own clothing already.
Eyja could clean a crime scene almost magically. Maybe she did use magic of some sort, but Maxical had watched a few times and only seen her scrubbing like a whirlwind.
The smell of home cooking was coming from the hearth, Maxical hooked the lid of the pot with a fireplace poker and peeked in.
"Shepherd's Pie, huh?"
Eyja nodded, pouring her a coffee. "We made it through, and this one wasn't even ours."
She watched Maxical carefully before asking,
"What did you do, Maxical? I know it was you, I saw you put that huge tome on the floor. Suddenly the tome was disintegrating and that Altmer had burns all around her mouth and hand. Her eyes were vacant, dead as a zombie. Did you steal her soul?"
Maxical shifted uncomfortably. "You know better than to ask that, Eyja. I couldn't bring myself to do anything like that."
Eyja nodded. "I know, but then why did you look so guilty? You still do. Who did it for you, and what did you gain from it?"
"If I told you who, you'd never believe me."
"Then what did you gain?"
"Gils, Eyja. I have his soul now. I have to get him to the Dreamsleeve...somehow."
Eyja exhaled in a gust; it was hard to tell by her expression whether it was in relief or shock. Maxical dug in her pack and pulled out a weathered parchment and unfolded it. She handed it to Eyja.
"I'm going to need you to get me this list of ingredients. Two of these ingredients are rare, and one will be hard to get after what we've just been through."
*******************************
(Jacinth - Rising Sun)
Orc's blood
Amber
(Snow - Grass)
Unicorn's horn
Hist Sap
(Night - Mid-day Sky)
Daedra's heart
Ectoplasm
The jacinth wakes the rising sun, and snow blankets the grass. But night o'ertakes the mid-day sky, and the gate is opened last.
*********************************
Eyja pulled out her own notepad and copied the ingredients down.
"I'll get them as soon as I can."
"Hurry. I want Gils' soul safe before Malan realizes I have it."
Eyja nodded. "I will. I'd like to catch Seth before he leaves, say goodbye. You know how fleeting a chance I'll have to do that."
Maxical nodded, finishing off her coffee. "I've already said my goodbyes to him just in case he left in the night. I'm going to bathe and go to bed. It feels like I haven't slept in days." She hugged Eyja tightly before making her way to the bath.
*
Eyes opened once again into the morning that came thanks to the acts of those he had come to trust, in such short time.
He liked mornings, strangely enough. They were separated just enough from the past evenings events to feel new, and the promise of another unwritten day lay before him. The one blessing he had since the beginning of this dark path, was the ability to have a decent night's sleep.
He still didn't find what he did easy. However, if he felt that his actions were necessary or even justifiable, rest came easy.
This last bit with Kelkemmenar was not celebrated by anyone, but it was still seen as needed. He had done this before, time after time, and perhaps he held the necessary words where the others had only numbed expressions and the presence of mind to fall back onto chores to cover the mess they had made.
Eyja was good at that, certainly far more on top of it than he would normally be. Then again, his usual targets were outlaws and criminals to begin with. Even in the Morag Tong, he was more of a Bounty Hunter than an Assassin.
His eyes and hand fell to the funerary urn of ashes that still lay at his bedside.
It was time.
He gathered his black finery, and shined his boots slightly. Not so much that he would look overly kempt but enough that Setsuna would not have rolled her eyes at him.
The shirt was looser at the arms than normal but hardly 'flowing' and the vest that Serene had tailored fit like his gloves. Perfectly form fitting. His belt held a dagger that was more fashion then function, and he was able to sneak a more devastating version into his boots.
He looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through his longish hair a few times, that was usually the extent of his hair routine aside from normal washings. But, for the event, he would comb it back with some pomade. When he was done, even he had to admit he looked a little better than the normal style. Setsuna and Serene both agreed on it.
He grabbed the Urn of Setsuna Velas' ashes, and took his first step out the door. He looked to the suite next to him, and a thought occurred to him that he hadn't even suspected he would have done a few days ago.
He told Serene this was something he had needed to do alone. As his Sister and she hadn't even met, and he was very adamant about not sharing his pain. Mostly from concern for her. She'd been in his head a few times, but he tried to keep himself walled off and tightly controlled.
But this fellow manhunter, she had shared in his pain. Too closely. He was ready to let go, if she were. He knocked lightly at the door, as the time of his coming and going as he pleased had passed with the Altmer Necromancer.
Eyja answered and seemed to take a second to recognize him. He was certainly less physically imposing without the armor that exaggerated his somewhat lean frame.
"Good morning." He smiled politely.
"Good morning, did you want some coffee?" She offered, the smell wafting over to them, tempting him to accept.
Seated across from one another, he glanced at the urn and started his story.
"When we were still here in Cyrodiil, we mostly wandered from the age of sixteen to our late twenties. Once the age of majority is reached and you're not adopted, they kick you out."
"Among those wanderings was the pond south of Chorrol a bit. It was where we camped and stayed for a few weeks. She met and became enamored with a local Cyrod boy. She and I were twenty at the time if I recall correctly. He was nineteen. While nothing came of it too much beyond a summer romance, once the harvest time had come and gone, so was the need to be in the area."
"I don't need to tell you that homeless Dunmer are viewed with suspicion at the very least, so staying in any one area too long was never a good idea. However, it was where she had her first love. She made us return there year after year, despite never meeting him again. It was her favorite place in all of the counties." His eyes fidgeted over the images in his mind.
"And they met on a morning just like this one. It is there I intend to spread her ashes. It is what I returned here to do. Cremation is a Dunmer tradition, but I insisted that she be returned to her native land; our native land. Being her only family it became my duty and my right to fulfill these wishes. One that I have put off for far, far too long."
He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "While I wished to do this alone...I feel as though I have met her once more in you. It would not feel right if you did not accompany me in this. The choice is yours, and you know that I certainly understand." He smiled sadly, looking into his reflection in the coffee.
The one boon of having a twin was that he could see her face whenever he wished.
He liked mornings, strangely enough. They were separated just enough from the past evenings events to feel new, and the promise of another unwritten day lay before him. The one blessing he had since the beginning of this dark path, was the ability to have a decent night's sleep.
He still didn't find what he did easy. However, if he felt that his actions were necessary or even justifiable, rest came easy.
This last bit with Kelkemmenar was not celebrated by anyone, but it was still seen as needed. He had done this before, time after time, and perhaps he held the necessary words where the others had only numbed expressions and the presence of mind to fall back onto chores to cover the mess they had made.
Eyja was good at that, certainly far more on top of it than he would normally be. Then again, his usual targets were outlaws and criminals to begin with. Even in the Morag Tong, he was more of a Bounty Hunter than an Assassin.
His eyes and hand fell to the funerary urn of ashes that still lay at his bedside.
It was time.
He gathered his black finery, and shined his boots slightly. Not so much that he would look overly kempt but enough that Setsuna would not have rolled her eyes at him.
The shirt was looser at the arms than normal but hardly 'flowing' and the vest that Serene had tailored fit like his gloves. Perfectly form fitting. His belt held a dagger that was more fashion then function, and he was able to sneak a more devastating version into his boots.
He looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through his longish hair a few times, that was usually the extent of his hair routine aside from normal washings. But, for the event, he would comb it back with some pomade. When he was done, even he had to admit he looked a little better than the normal style. Setsuna and Serene both agreed on it.
He grabbed the Urn of Setsuna Velas' ashes, and took his first step out the door. He looked to the suite next to him, and a thought occurred to him that he hadn't even suspected he would have done a few days ago.
He told Serene this was something he had needed to do alone. As his Sister and she hadn't even met, and he was very adamant about not sharing his pain. Mostly from concern for her. She'd been in his head a few times, but he tried to keep himself walled off and tightly controlled.
But this fellow manhunter, she had shared in his pain. Too closely. He was ready to let go, if she were. He knocked lightly at the door, as the time of his coming and going as he pleased had passed with the Altmer Necromancer.
Eyja answered and seemed to take a second to recognize him. He was certainly less physically imposing without the armor that exaggerated his somewhat lean frame.
"Good morning." He smiled politely.
"Good morning, did you want some coffee?" She offered, the smell wafting over to them, tempting him to accept.
Seated across from one another, he glanced at the urn and started his story.
"When we were still here in Cyrodiil, we mostly wandered from the age of sixteen to our late twenties. Once the age of majority is reached and you're not adopted, they kick you out."
"Among those wanderings was the pond south of Chorrol a bit. It was where we camped and stayed for a few weeks. She met and became enamored with a local Cyrod boy. She and I were twenty at the time if I recall correctly. He was nineteen. While nothing came of it too much beyond a summer romance, once the harvest time had come and gone, so was the need to be in the area."
"I don't need to tell you that homeless Dunmer are viewed with suspicion at the very least, so staying in any one area too long was never a good idea. However, it was where she had her first love. She made us return there year after year, despite never meeting him again. It was her favorite place in all of the counties." His eyes fidgeted over the images in his mind.
"And they met on a morning just like this one. It is there I intend to spread her ashes. It is what I returned here to do. Cremation is a Dunmer tradition, but I insisted that she be returned to her native land; our native land. Being her only family it became my duty and my right to fulfill these wishes. One that I have put off for far, far too long."
He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "While I wished to do this alone...I feel as though I have met her once more in you. It would not feel right if you did not accompany me in this. The choice is yours, and you know that I certainly understand." He smiled sadly, looking into his reflection in the coffee.
The one boon of having a twin was that he could see her face whenever he wished.
*
Eyja:
Eyja had waited for Seth to come, somehow knowing he would before his journey took him a different direction. She'd been expecting him to just appear in the kitchen as he had been doing till now; had kept warming and re-warming the coffee and Shepherd's Pie over and over again.
The knock on the door came as a surprise...as did his appearance. Seth was in his black finery. The shock of that and his hair styled back from his face with scented pomade stunned her into staring with her hand on the door rather than welcoming him in.
There was no doubt he was releasing his sister today, giving her a final resting place that must have meant something to her in her lifetime. This was the task he had spoken of that first day they met in the tavern.
Eyja sank down into the chair across from him at the table; listening to him talk of Setsuna, of their happy years together and the place he had chosen for her ashes. Eyja nodded automatically at Seth's invitation.
"I can be ready in minutes. I can borrow Maxical's mourning clothes, it won't take me long to dress."
Eyja rose, about to go upstairs and change when a thought struck her so strongly that she stopped mid step, turning back and sinking back down into her chair again.
"I want to ask you...I want to tell you something first. I was almost a decade younger than Cytherea, a child still. I didn't have the years of knowing her you had with Setsuna; didn't know her favorite places, or whether she even found love before she was killed."
Eyja pressed her head against the back of the chair, and took a deep breath. "She was Dark Brotherhood." She shot Seth an apologetic look, knowing how he hated the Dark Brotherhood.
"She ended there after a robbery that went bad. Seth, she was just trying to keep food on the table for me; a roof over our heads after our parents were killed. She kept it from me, not wanting me hurt by the things she did for us...I wouldn't have cared had I known, she was everything to me."
Eyja went to her pack and dug for a minute, then paused; unsure if Seth wanted to hear this now. Almost apologetically she pulled out her sister's urn.
"This is Cytherea now. She was still a virgin when she died; in fact that is what drew the interest of the man who killed her...man. He was no man. It was a vampire named Vicente. She ran from him, but he and his fellow brothers and sisters in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary followed her to our home...where they killed her in front of me. I was but a child, couldn't have stopped them anyway...but they held me there, made me watch to punish her. That started my war on the Dark Brotherhood."
Eyja cradled the urn in her arms, her eyes drawn into Seth's so deeply she could read Setsuna's story there and his own; how closely they matched each other's lives.
"My sister deserves the rest too, but I have no where to bring her. Would you...do you think Setsuna would mind sharing her special spot with Cytherea?"
*
Eyja in Maxical's mourning clothes:
http://static1.nexusmods.com/101/mods/imag...-1214848721.jpg
Cytherea's Urn:
http://static2.nexusmods.com/101/mods/imag...-1241805498.JPG
*
Eyja:
Eyja had waited for Seth to come, somehow knowing he would before his journey took him a different direction. She'd been expecting him to just appear in the kitchen as he had been doing till now; had kept warming and re-warming the coffee and Shepherd's Pie over and over again.
The knock on the door came as a surprise...as did his appearance. Seth was in his black finery. The shock of that and his hair styled back from his face with scented pomade stunned her into staring with her hand on the door rather than welcoming him in.
There was no doubt he was releasing his sister today, giving her a final resting place that must have meant something to her in her lifetime. This was the task he had spoken of that first day they met in the tavern.
Eyja sank down into the chair across from him at the table; listening to him talk of Setsuna, of their happy years together and the place he had chosen for her ashes. Eyja nodded automatically at Seth's invitation.
"I can be ready in minutes. I can borrow Maxical's mourning clothes, it won't take me long to dress."
Eyja rose, about to go upstairs and change when a thought struck her so strongly that she stopped mid step, turning back and sinking back down into her chair again.
"I want to ask you...I want to tell you something first. I was almost a decade younger than Cytherea, a child still. I didn't have the years of knowing her you had with Setsuna; didn't know her favorite places, or whether she even found love before she was killed."
Eyja pressed her head against the back of the chair, and took a deep breath. "She was Dark Brotherhood." She shot Seth an apologetic look, knowing how he hated the Dark Brotherhood.
"She ended there after a robbery that went bad. Seth, she was just trying to keep food on the table for me; a roof over our heads after our parents were killed. She kept it from me, not wanting me hurt by the things she did for us...I wouldn't have cared had I known, she was everything to me."
Eyja went to her pack and dug for a minute, then paused; unsure if Seth wanted to hear this now. Almost apologetically she pulled out her sister's urn.
"This is Cytherea now. She was still a virgin when she died; in fact that is what drew the interest of the man who killed her...man. He was no man. It was a vampire named Vicente. She ran from him, but he and his fellow brothers and sisters in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary followed her to our home...where they killed her in front of me. I was but a child, couldn't have stopped them anyway...but they held me there, made me watch to punish her. That started my war on the Dark Brotherhood."
Eyja cradled the urn in her arms, her eyes drawn into Seth's so deeply she could read Setsuna's story there and his own; how closely they matched each other's lives.
"My sister deserves the rest too, but I have no where to bring her. Would you...do you think Setsuna would mind sharing her special spot with Cytherea?"
*
Eyja in Maxical's mourning clothes:
http://static1.nexusmods.com/101/mods/imag...-1214848721.jpg
Cytherea's Urn:
http://static2.nexusmods.com/101/mods/imag...-1241805498.JPG
*
Sethyas smiled sadly once more.
"She was Dark Brotherhood." Eyja revealed, like confessing a dark secret to one's own judge.
He saw the pain in her eyes. It pulled him in, far past her expression. Through obscure shadows of pain, past deadened husks of former traits she'd long since abandoned, straight past a heart that did not feel for a long, long time. It seemed as though he could see her very spirit, that somehow had learned to live again.
It shimmered, as a light within the darkness that cloaked so much of herself. It resonated like a tuning fork to his own, and he was left absolutely stunned.
"So was Setsuna." He almost whispered, and his eyes started to trace patterns in the woodwork again. What passed through his mind, he did not speak. Yet, seemed to hold some silent conversation within himself.
"Yes. I find this fitting." He nodded.
"Two people that lost their way into the same twisted and thorny path." He spoke. "Among all the other marks that were left there to testify the beginning of those who found what they thought was a way back: Let our ghosts have a kindred spirit." He swallowed hard.
"Take your time in getting ready. They are worth it." He said blinking rapidly.
"She was Dark Brotherhood." Eyja revealed, like confessing a dark secret to one's own judge.
He saw the pain in her eyes. It pulled him in, far past her expression. Through obscure shadows of pain, past deadened husks of former traits she'd long since abandoned, straight past a heart that did not feel for a long, long time. It seemed as though he could see her very spirit, that somehow had learned to live again.
It shimmered, as a light within the darkness that cloaked so much of herself. It resonated like a tuning fork to his own, and he was left absolutely stunned.
"So was Setsuna." He almost whispered, and his eyes started to trace patterns in the woodwork again. What passed through his mind, he did not speak. Yet, seemed to hold some silent conversation within himself.
"Yes. I find this fitting." He nodded.
"Two people that lost their way into the same twisted and thorny path." He spoke. "Among all the other marks that were left there to testify the beginning of those who found what they thought was a way back: Let our ghosts have a kindred spirit." He swallowed hard.
"Take your time in getting ready. They are worth it." He said blinking rapidly.
*
Eyja:
Eyja set Cytherea's urn on the table and took Seth's hand, silently holding it for a minute. She breathed in deeply, feeling the relief that Cytherea would finally be laid to rest.
"Thank you, Seth." She barely whispered the words, but knew he heard.
Maxical didn’t even stir when Eyja tiptoed by the bed, not even when the door to the schrank creaked on opening. Eyja hesitated after slipping the dress from the hanging hook. The black head wrap and ribbons dangled loosely off a lower hook.
Maybe it didn’t matter, not after these decades Cytherea waited for her ashes to find their final rest. She fingered the soft black satin of the neck ribbon. But maybe it did matter.
For those decades she’d carried that urn as a weapon, a whip that drove her to kill everyone responsible for Cytherea’s death...Eyja wanted to make sure everything was done right for her sister now. The way it should have been done decades ago, when the only black she wore were assassins robes and a heart so filled with revenge that she couldn’t see the path it was leading her down.
Her hand closed over the ribbons and mourning cap. Yes...it was time to do it right. She wanted that for Cytherea.
*
Eyja twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head and wound the mourning wrap around it, tying the dangling pieces with the smaller ribbons so they fell like curls of black colored hair on her cheeks and the back of her neck; tucking the loose strands of her hair under so not a wisp of blonde showed.
She rubbed the softness of the wide black neck ribbon against her cheek before carefully draping it under the dangling ribbons of the mourning cap and weaving the ends into a loose bow. The dress and long dark gloves she pulled on last.
The face looking back at her from the glass was pale in contrast to the blackness of the mourning outfit. Ashen, and like a frightened child.
Had she done this decades ago, maybe Shor would have heard her song of sorrow and come, carried Cytherea’s soul back to Sovngarde with him. After all, the legends of him said his ghost could be sung back into the realm of humans on special occasions, and he was the god of children. She was a child then, and Cytherea not much more than one.
Now, after all she’d done in those decades; murder, prostitution...only the gods knew how many men she’d slept with. Shor may not even hear her song at all now.
*
Eyja fidgeted with the bow on the neck ribbon. In all these decades, she had looked to those ashes for Cytherea; to the urn, talked to it as if she lived within.
What she’d learned of souls since becoming guardian of Maxical...for the first time she’d begun wondering whether Cytherea’s was even in the Aetherius at all. And if not, where then?
Seth hadn’t talked about Setsuna’s soul. Maybe he knew where it was. Maybe Dunmer didn’t believe in them.
She was no longer a child, there was no reason to sing it now...but she wanted to badly if Seth would let her. She wanted everything done the right way, the way it should have been. And maybe it would draw Cytherea’s soul to that spot. If Seth would let her, she would sing it for Setsuna too. Call them both home, to their resting place.
Eyja stepped quietly into the kitchen, her eyes catching Seth’s reaction to seeing her in full mourning attire; as stunned as hers had been to see him in his. They found each other's arms for a moment in the mutual understanding of what each must be feeling right now; what they were facing ahead. Eyja barely whispered the words to ask, unsure if he'd allow a Nord tradition upheld at what amounted to his sister's funeral ceremony.
"When we get to this pond, if you'll let me I'm supposed to sing for my sister's soul; that is if you won't mind. It is the tradition of Nords to sing to the ones we cry for, call the souls you mourn in to make our peace with them. They say the voice reaches Aetherius, and reverberates all Nirn searching for the soul you sing for. It hears and comes. If you'll let me, I'll sing for Setsuna's too."
*
Eyja in full mourning dress:
http://static1.nexusmods.com/101/mods/imag...-1214848721.jpg
*
Eyja:
Eyja set Cytherea's urn on the table and took Seth's hand, silently holding it for a minute. She breathed in deeply, feeling the relief that Cytherea would finally be laid to rest.
"Thank you, Seth." She barely whispered the words, but knew he heard.
Maxical didn’t even stir when Eyja tiptoed by the bed, not even when the door to the schrank creaked on opening. Eyja hesitated after slipping the dress from the hanging hook. The black head wrap and ribbons dangled loosely off a lower hook.
Maybe it didn’t matter, not after these decades Cytherea waited for her ashes to find their final rest. She fingered the soft black satin of the neck ribbon. But maybe it did matter.
For those decades she’d carried that urn as a weapon, a whip that drove her to kill everyone responsible for Cytherea’s death...Eyja wanted to make sure everything was done right for her sister now. The way it should have been done decades ago, when the only black she wore were assassins robes and a heart so filled with revenge that she couldn’t see the path it was leading her down.
Her hand closed over the ribbons and mourning cap. Yes...it was time to do it right. She wanted that for Cytherea.
*
Eyja twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head and wound the mourning wrap around it, tying the dangling pieces with the smaller ribbons so they fell like curls of black colored hair on her cheeks and the back of her neck; tucking the loose strands of her hair under so not a wisp of blonde showed.
She rubbed the softness of the wide black neck ribbon against her cheek before carefully draping it under the dangling ribbons of the mourning cap and weaving the ends into a loose bow. The dress and long dark gloves she pulled on last.
The face looking back at her from the glass was pale in contrast to the blackness of the mourning outfit. Ashen, and like a frightened child.
Had she done this decades ago, maybe Shor would have heard her song of sorrow and come, carried Cytherea’s soul back to Sovngarde with him. After all, the legends of him said his ghost could be sung back into the realm of humans on special occasions, and he was the god of children. She was a child then, and Cytherea not much more than one.
Now, after all she’d done in those decades; murder, prostitution...only the gods knew how many men she’d slept with. Shor may not even hear her song at all now.
*
Eyja fidgeted with the bow on the neck ribbon. In all these decades, she had looked to those ashes for Cytherea; to the urn, talked to it as if she lived within.
What she’d learned of souls since becoming guardian of Maxical...for the first time she’d begun wondering whether Cytherea’s was even in the Aetherius at all. And if not, where then?
Seth hadn’t talked about Setsuna’s soul. Maybe he knew where it was. Maybe Dunmer didn’t believe in them.
She was no longer a child, there was no reason to sing it now...but she wanted to badly if Seth would let her. She wanted everything done the right way, the way it should have been. And maybe it would draw Cytherea’s soul to that spot. If Seth would let her, she would sing it for Setsuna too. Call them both home, to their resting place.
Eyja stepped quietly into the kitchen, her eyes catching Seth’s reaction to seeing her in full mourning attire; as stunned as hers had been to see him in his. They found each other's arms for a moment in the mutual understanding of what each must be feeling right now; what they were facing ahead. Eyja barely whispered the words to ask, unsure if he'd allow a Nord tradition upheld at what amounted to his sister's funeral ceremony.
"When we get to this pond, if you'll let me I'm supposed to sing for my sister's soul; that is if you won't mind. It is the tradition of Nords to sing to the ones we cry for, call the souls you mourn in to make our peace with them. They say the voice reaches Aetherius, and reverberates all Nirn searching for the soul you sing for. It hears and comes. If you'll let me, I'll sing for Setsuna's too."
*
Eyja in full mourning dress:
http://static1.nexusmods.com/101/mods/imag...-1214848721.jpg
*
Sethyas looked upon the Nord's new outfit. The change in attire a confirmation to himself of what he knew, but did not fully realize until that moment in time. They were here to mourn and let go.
"If you'll let me, I'll sing for Setsuna's too."Eyja offered.
"Okay." he released quietly.
_____________________________________________________________________
They walked out among the rays of the sun, neatly contrasted to the vibrant green with their dark mourning clothes.
Sethyas looked up at the sky, squinting in the brightness. Each day fell under the same sky. Some things didn't change, nor needed too.
As above. So below. He thought.
It almost made him laugh. The patterns of 'up there' didn't seem to have anything to do with the chaos that went on down here.
"Two Sisters. Both lost to time, but not from our memories. We carry it as torches. Torches that burn away darkness, torches that also burn as we hold them. It is a pain we bear always. A pain that forces focus. To see where I also went wrong, so that I may not repeat the mistakes of those who've left us behind." He gave a joined eulogy, and let Eyja speak her own Sister's eulogy first, and a tear escaped his eye as she sang her song.
Ethereal, beautiful, haunting.
Truly, a song of spirits.He thought looking upwards, imagining that some invisible entity had taken notice to Eyja's mournful crooning. Perhaps taking some pity upon those who'd passed.
"Setsuna Velas, a dearest Sister. Lived Twenty-nine years. Loved each one, and every day since. Thank you for being my reflection in those times. Times of searching for ourselves and learning the world in which they grew. Among a bed of thorns you were a rose. I am sorry I failed you. Yet even from that failure I draw strength, and will carry you with me until that day we meet once more...Until then, the hardest task in life; I have learned, is to let go. If one of us had learned that earlier, perhaps I would not stand here now. It is far too late for regrets and well past due for our time in letting go. Rest now in your favored spot."
He opened the funerary urn, and gently knelt down. Dumping the ashen contents into the pond, the dark dust spreading out across the face of it. He threw a small blade and a handful of coins into the body of water with it, splashing as they broke the surface. The blade was in fact hers in life, which he'd maintained to a polished shine for over two hundred years.
His hand reached up to his face and and he started shaking ever so slightly.
He stood up slowly, taking his time with each movement, and swallowed hard once he was upright. If he had wept, there were no tears to confirm it.
"If you'll let me, I'll sing for Setsuna's too."Eyja offered.
"Okay." he released quietly.
_____________________________________________________________________
They walked out among the rays of the sun, neatly contrasted to the vibrant green with their dark mourning clothes.
Sethyas looked up at the sky, squinting in the brightness. Each day fell under the same sky. Some things didn't change, nor needed too.
As above. So below. He thought.
It almost made him laugh. The patterns of 'up there' didn't seem to have anything to do with the chaos that went on down here.
"Two Sisters. Both lost to time, but not from our memories. We carry it as torches. Torches that burn away darkness, torches that also burn as we hold them. It is a pain we bear always. A pain that forces focus. To see where I also went wrong, so that I may not repeat the mistakes of those who've left us behind." He gave a joined eulogy, and let Eyja speak her own Sister's eulogy first, and a tear escaped his eye as she sang her song.
Ethereal, beautiful, haunting.
Truly, a song of spirits.He thought looking upwards, imagining that some invisible entity had taken notice to Eyja's mournful crooning. Perhaps taking some pity upon those who'd passed.
"Setsuna Velas, a dearest Sister. Lived Twenty-nine years. Loved each one, and every day since. Thank you for being my reflection in those times. Times of searching for ourselves and learning the world in which they grew. Among a bed of thorns you were a rose. I am sorry I failed you. Yet even from that failure I draw strength, and will carry you with me until that day we meet once more...Until then, the hardest task in life; I have learned, is to let go. If one of us had learned that earlier, perhaps I would not stand here now. It is far too late for regrets and well past due for our time in letting go. Rest now in your favored spot."
He opened the funerary urn, and gently knelt down. Dumping the ashen contents into the pond, the dark dust spreading out across the face of it. He threw a small blade and a handful of coins into the body of water with it, splashing as they broke the surface. The blade was in fact hers in life, which he'd maintained to a polished shine for over two hundred years.
His hand reached up to his face and and he started shaking ever so slightly.
He stood up slowly, taking his time with each movement, and swallowed hard once he was upright. If he had wept, there were no tears to confirm it.
*
Eyja's Song To The Sisters
http://youtu.be/xWmznE_-db8
*
They picked their way through the forest in the silence of shared memories; indistinguishable echoes and glimpses into pasts separated by centuries of time, yet so similar they were like pages of the same book; blown free from their binding by the winds and carried through time by fate to meet once again.
Occasionally their hands met and clasped, so mutual an understanding of what trailed through the other's mind that words weren't needed.
There was a sacredness created by nature itself in the site Seth selected for Setsuna; a pond carved by time into the side of a low mountain, guarded from civilization by the deep forest surrounding.
Protected. Like Seth keeping Setsuna's urn by his bed; still guarding her sleep hundreds of years after her passing...and like Eyja, unable to leave Cytherea's ashes behind because no where could be as safe as at her side where she could watch over them just as Cytherea had always watched over her.
A small waterfall shed rainwater from the rise above; the pond lay still and deep below, continuously filled by the trickle of it. The end of the pond was a natural overlook created by overflows in the rainier months, falling into another smaller pond below it.
A makeshift bridge at the overlook was the only sign a human had ever ventured here, and without asking Eyja knew Seth had made it. Setsuna must have loved the view there, maybe sat on it and looked out.
Seth nodded briefly in her direction. It was time.
*
Eyja stripped off her long mourning gloves while Seth broke the seals and uncapped the urns; showing the same reverence for both as he sifted a small amount of ash from each into Eyja's hand for the song.
She kissed the back of each hand and pressed her thumb into the ash; rubbing it against her forehead and cheek in twin markings on each side, one for each sister and whispering their name as she did each.
"For you, Setsuna. That your soul hears and comes to this place of peace and memories. For you, Cytherea. You gave up your own life and chances for love to raise me. I remember every moment as if it were yesterday; you were always there, always taking care of me. I pray that in Setsuna you find another sister; and that she loves you with even a mote of what's in my heart for you."
Eyja climbed to the tiny upper pond to give Seth privacy in his grief, her balled fists tightly clutching the remains of the ash in them. When she reached the top she stood at the edge on a mound of rock looking down at Seth.
Just before he tipped the remains of Setsuna's urn into the pond she raised both hands toward the sky, slowly opening them so the breeze coming down off the mountain sifted bits of the ash from her palms and swirled it into a filtered haze of particles that could be seen dancing slowly toward Seth in the shafts of sunlight peeking through the trees that surrounded them.
For a minute she just breathed, feeling the ashes tickle her cheeks and arms, then slowly closed her eyes. Her arms stayed raised, bits of the ash still wafting off as she began her song to Setsuna and Cytherea; a hauntingly mesmerizing keen that resonated from the rocks behind her till it filled the glade below her with the sound of it, echoing off the trees.
*
How long she'd been singing, Eyja didn't know. It wasn't a sound, but instinct that opened her eyes to see a thin she-wolf watching her from a lightly made path by the edge of the waterfall. Her head was raised back as if to join in the song with a howl, but she made no sound. When she saw Eyja's eyes on her she slunk away, her head and tail low to the ground.
Not feet away from Eyja on the other side of the pond a smallish deer had its muzzle dipped in the pond, its nostrils blowing tiny ripples in the still water. It didn't even startle at Eyja's glance.
Eyja finished the last notes of the song and slowly made her way down to the middle pond where Seth waited. The she-wolf was moving slowly and silently on a wide arc, eyeing Seth as she crept down toward the water below.
She hadn't offered Eyja any harm, and the sudden fear hit Eyja that Seth may see her as an enemy and dispose of her without waiting to find out. It very well could be that this site was so untouched by civilization that the animals hadn't learned to fear humans, and this was probably their water supply. But she had just called the spirits of their sister's to this place, and two animals had come.
How terrible it would be if their spirits came through nature and Seth attacked. It wasn't like she could explain that to him either, it was a Nord belief. She could hear him now if she tried;
"Your argument is invalid."
Eyja walked wide, moving toward the wolf. She didn't want to frighten it off, just head it off from approaching Seth as it had just approached her at the pond above. The wolf arced back into the trees, then turned back once again to watch; her slanted amber eyes darting from Eyja to Seth.
Eyja carried her urn to the bridge Seth had made for Setsuna and released Cytherea's ashes there. She scattered a handful of Ambrosia leaves over them, then a handful of Mugwort seeds.
*
Seth was waiting by the path to go back toward Chorrol. Eyja stuffed the empty urn in her pack and followed him to where the path dipped down to the overflow pond below. She turned back one last time to look. The she-wolf was sniffing the ground where Seth had been sitting. On the high pond above the deer watched their departure, its huge brown eyes unblinking in the filtered sunlight shining on it.
"Goodbye, Cytherea...Setsuna. You will always be loved and remembered." Eyja whispered, then turned to follow Seth down the trail.
*
The pond; from the waterfall, to Seth's pond, to the overflow pond below:
Waterfall and small upper pond:
http://i744.photobucket.com/albums/xx82/ca...mperialcity.jpg
Looking at rock Eyja stood on to sing her song to Setsuna and Cytherea:
http://img196.imageshack.us/img196/1192/pond.png
Lightly worn path the she wolf watched from:
http://media.moddb.com/cache/images/mods/1...Valley_Pond.jpg
Seth's pond:
http://www.everbecoming.com/temp/oblivion/pond.jpg
Seth's bridge:
http://img34.imageshack.us/img34/8735/2011062100002.jpg
*
Eyja's Song To The Sisters
http://youtu.be/xWmznE_-db8
*
They picked their way through the forest in the silence of shared memories; indistinguishable echoes and glimpses into pasts separated by centuries of time, yet so similar they were like pages of the same book; blown free from their binding by the winds and carried through time by fate to meet once again.
Occasionally their hands met and clasped, so mutual an understanding of what trailed through the other's mind that words weren't needed.
There was a sacredness created by nature itself in the site Seth selected for Setsuna; a pond carved by time into the side of a low mountain, guarded from civilization by the deep forest surrounding.
Protected. Like Seth keeping Setsuna's urn by his bed; still guarding her sleep hundreds of years after her passing...and like Eyja, unable to leave Cytherea's ashes behind because no where could be as safe as at her side where she could watch over them just as Cytherea had always watched over her.
A small waterfall shed rainwater from the rise above; the pond lay still and deep below, continuously filled by the trickle of it. The end of the pond was a natural overlook created by overflows in the rainier months, falling into another smaller pond below it.
A makeshift bridge at the overlook was the only sign a human had ever ventured here, and without asking Eyja knew Seth had made it. Setsuna must have loved the view there, maybe sat on it and looked out.
Seth nodded briefly in her direction. It was time.
*
Eyja stripped off her long mourning gloves while Seth broke the seals and uncapped the urns; showing the same reverence for both as he sifted a small amount of ash from each into Eyja's hand for the song.
She kissed the back of each hand and pressed her thumb into the ash; rubbing it against her forehead and cheek in twin markings on each side, one for each sister and whispering their name as she did each.
"For you, Setsuna. That your soul hears and comes to this place of peace and memories. For you, Cytherea. You gave up your own life and chances for love to raise me. I remember every moment as if it were yesterday; you were always there, always taking care of me. I pray that in Setsuna you find another sister; and that she loves you with even a mote of what's in my heart for you."
Eyja climbed to the tiny upper pond to give Seth privacy in his grief, her balled fists tightly clutching the remains of the ash in them. When she reached the top she stood at the edge on a mound of rock looking down at Seth.
Just before he tipped the remains of Setsuna's urn into the pond she raised both hands toward the sky, slowly opening them so the breeze coming down off the mountain sifted bits of the ash from her palms and swirled it into a filtered haze of particles that could be seen dancing slowly toward Seth in the shafts of sunlight peeking through the trees that surrounded them.
For a minute she just breathed, feeling the ashes tickle her cheeks and arms, then slowly closed her eyes. Her arms stayed raised, bits of the ash still wafting off as she began her song to Setsuna and Cytherea; a hauntingly mesmerizing keen that resonated from the rocks behind her till it filled the glade below her with the sound of it, echoing off the trees.
*
How long she'd been singing, Eyja didn't know. It wasn't a sound, but instinct that opened her eyes to see a thin she-wolf watching her from a lightly made path by the edge of the waterfall. Her head was raised back as if to join in the song with a howl, but she made no sound. When she saw Eyja's eyes on her she slunk away, her head and tail low to the ground.
Not feet away from Eyja on the other side of the pond a smallish deer had its muzzle dipped in the pond, its nostrils blowing tiny ripples in the still water. It didn't even startle at Eyja's glance.
Eyja finished the last notes of the song and slowly made her way down to the middle pond where Seth waited. The she-wolf was moving slowly and silently on a wide arc, eyeing Seth as she crept down toward the water below.
She hadn't offered Eyja any harm, and the sudden fear hit Eyja that Seth may see her as an enemy and dispose of her without waiting to find out. It very well could be that this site was so untouched by civilization that the animals hadn't learned to fear humans, and this was probably their water supply. But she had just called the spirits of their sister's to this place, and two animals had come.
How terrible it would be if their spirits came through nature and Seth attacked. It wasn't like she could explain that to him either, it was a Nord belief. She could hear him now if she tried;
"Your argument is invalid."
Eyja walked wide, moving toward the wolf. She didn't want to frighten it off, just head it off from approaching Seth as it had just approached her at the pond above. The wolf arced back into the trees, then turned back once again to watch; her slanted amber eyes darting from Eyja to Seth.
Eyja carried her urn to the bridge Seth had made for Setsuna and released Cytherea's ashes there. She scattered a handful of Ambrosia leaves over them, then a handful of Mugwort seeds.
*
Seth was waiting by the path to go back toward Chorrol. Eyja stuffed the empty urn in her pack and followed him to where the path dipped down to the overflow pond below. She turned back one last time to look. The she-wolf was sniffing the ground where Seth had been sitting. On the high pond above the deer watched their departure, its huge brown eyes unblinking in the filtered sunlight shining on it.
"Goodbye, Cytherea...Setsuna. You will always be loved and remembered." Eyja whispered, then turned to follow Seth down the trail.
*
The pond; from the waterfall, to Seth's pond, to the overflow pond below:
Waterfall and small upper pond:
http://i744.photobucket.com/albums/xx82/ca...mperialcity.jpg
Looking at rock Eyja stood on to sing her song to Setsuna and Cytherea:
http://img196.imageshack.us/img196/1192/pond.png
Lightly worn path the she wolf watched from:
http://media.moddb.com/cache/images/mods/1...Valley_Pond.jpg
Seth's pond:
http://www.everbecoming.com/temp/oblivion/pond.jpg
Seth's bridge:
http://img34.imageshack.us/img34/8735/2011062100002.jpg
*
Locking this thread, simply to avoid having it confused with which of the Wobbly Goblet RP threads are active and which are ‘mission complete’. 
This is a "lo-fi" version of our main content. To view the full version with more information, formatting and images, please click here.