#matresvindictae

                         the hallways of the sanctuary flicker with candlelight.  the only light available in the windowless lair of the assassins.  oddly enough,  Sovyk had always been a fan of light.  it had always meant safety in the past,  but since becoming one of the Dark Brotherhood,  she had learned not to trust it so much.  there was no such thing as safety.  besides,  darkness had its advantages that she could not deny.  making her way into the common room,  she looks around.

she acquires her target and makes her way over to him and tosses the contract down on the table expectantly.  “need work,  Mathieu?”  she says in a tone that doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she is about to ask him for his help.  “it’d be easier with two,”  she suggestively goes on.  she was not a natural team-player,  but when she did need a companion,  she'd found Mathieu’s company to be... almost enjoyable.  hand on hip,  she waits patiently for answer.

        “Hey! What are you doing here?”  

Grandfather had told her to pick flowers on the clearing while he was ‘skinning the deer’, which was, according to him, nothing a little lady like her should have to see. Janna was too happy to oblige, already tired of sitting on horseback so much. Her buckskin pony grazing nearby, disinterested by the strange boy its mistress had run into.

    Janna knew that she was meant to be careful around grown ups she did not know, though no one ever said that she should not talk to children. Curious! He did not look like one of the noble boys, so he clearly must be the son of one of the imperial Rangers, or so she assumed.

     Getting into the party is the easy bit; patrols cannot be everywhere at once and if one hides a very bloody piece of beef in the bushes, even the best trained dogs will go crazy. The shrouded pair slip in a pantry window and from then on, nobody looks twice. They are artfully dressed. Plain for society such as this, but not shabby - certainly not too well attired. They must blend into the background, become part of the scenery, be so unmemorable that when the time comes for the rest of these aristocrats to meet their end, when a man comes to their door that they have seen before they will not even suspect for a moment they might have seen him before.

A spectral assassin is supposed to be a boon; an assistant bound to the service of the Dark Brotherhood and continuing to serve as they did once in life long after death.  There is a chance, after all, that all of them will end up in that situation later down the road, and it's supposed to be an honor to serve the Dread Father long after one's time has passed.

This, however, he has doubts on.  He doesn't think it is at all a happenstance that this just happens to be the one given to him; he's no fool, he knows Astrid is entirely too crafty for that, for if she wasn't, she'd be long since deposed, he thinks, from her position over the family.  He wonders if she knows how deep his loathing (and, also, Cicero's as well) runs.  At this point very little would surprise him.

It’d only been a short three days since Lucien had watched the young boy slay his father. He could still clearly recall the mans heart in the palm of Mathieu’s hand.

Not that Lucien could blame him. Those bruises didn’t just happen from running into doors. Everyone had a breaking point after all, even children.

In that short time, He wasn’t sure whether the child would want to stay long or not, but had given the offer none the less. 

Stepping into the sanctuary, he spoke to the matron for a brief moment, giving her the contracts in which were needed to be handed out to their initiates. He then wandered to the sanctuary’s library to replace some of the books he’d taken in his previous visit.

Things were pretty quiet without two argonian children running about any longer, but Vicente assured him they’d return once their training was over.

In the mean time, the speaker needed something to busy himself in the late night silence. Alchemy had become the easiest option. And that’s were the books came in handy.

Pausing in thumbing through one’s pages, he caught a glimpse at another figure not to far off, and gave a nod in greeting.

I be up for running a Martin but im honestly terrified of being a sole active Martin Septim t b h

send me a symbol : accepting : @matresvindictae

🌸 = my roleplay petpeeveThis one I covered here in Ophelia’s ask but. 🐻🐻🐻 repeating.  Stop hating on female characters, and stop stealing.  Also, to pull from the dwrp trashfire I left behind, people who think they can decide what characters are, and are not, shippable.  Being told your character is unshippable based on looks is pretty fucking stupid.  I’m still mad about that shit.  How dare you.  I’m sorry he’s not Bland Blond Chris #54.