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@gvildmastcr
Bezi purred, leaning down to headbutt Mercer’s shoulder and nuzzle him. “Love you,” he hummed, slipping his arms around the Breton’s waist.
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@mcrcer
“Didn’t I kill you a long time ago?” She did, right? Brittany remembered killing him, the final blow of her blade cutting him, then him...falling in the water. How the hell is Mercer Frey alive???
Okay, maybe she should stop having drinks with Brynjolf....yep, that was on top of the list-long with getting enough money to get a house so far away from her sister and her husband, but that’s for another story.....
mcrcer
“The feeling is mutual.”
He gives Phasma an incredulous look, with no small amount of disdain painting his features. How someone like her managed to get into the Dark Brotherhood is beyond him - for an assassin, she’s not very stealthy. And why she decided to tag along with him on a mark doesn’t make any sense, either.
“Look, either you need to keep your mouth shut, or you can wait outside. I don’t need your loud mouth getting us caught.”
With that, he retrieves the Key from his pocket and begins to fiddle with the lock. A soft click lets him know that he’s free to enter. Whether Phasma will come with him or not, it doesn’t really matter. He’s got a job to do, and he’s going to get it done.
she wasn't foolish — knew she shouldn't SPEAK once they were inside the house. inside, she had her own contracts to find. settle a disputes between one of the owners and a member of her own brotherhood, and report back to them as soon as it was over. and get the LEADER of the thieves guild a bit of his gold, in the meantime.
the very thought of blood coating her fingers and leathers made her move from her place. she followed mercer inside, NERVES and impulses desperate to let him know she was unfazed by his words, to hit him as she might a COMRADE ( regarded loosely! ).
she didn't. WEAVED around the guild master instead, playing her fingers at the dagger at her side. her bow was slung across her shoulder, but this required close range — WHY they had given this job to her wasn't something she KNEW.
@gvildmastcr “Hey! No!” Outraged, Bezi grabbed Mercer’s arm before he could strike. “What the hell are you doing?”
@gvildmastcr
“Mistake.” It’s all he says, at first, his mental state currently frayed due to the circumstances. They Key, taken from him; left to drown in that gods-forsaken ruin as his would-be killers made their escape. Bezi, thankfully, stuck around to make sure he didn’t meet his end there. He’d be eternally grateful to the giant, but he couldn’t articulate it properly. Not at the moment.
“Mistake,” he repeats, curling in on the furs that were draped over his shoulders. He seemed so small now, compared to how he once carried himself. Shoulders slack, spine slouched, head kept low - a mere shadow of who he once was. All of his confidence, his cocky attitude, seemingly stripped from him the moment they Key left his grasp.
His gaze travels up to spy the giant for a moment or two. “The Guild,”he mumbles, almost incoherently. “A mistake.” He shivers and draws the furs more tightly around his form. A single, shuddering breath exhaled.“Never meant–” To hurt them. To drag them down. To watch them crumble around him because of the Key. “Betrayed,” he notes solemnly.“Right to be angry.”
And then he goes silent, letting out a low sigh.
This was his fault, and now he had no home.
It was just like when he was younger.
Bezi’s chest ached as he looked down at Mercer. Few things had hurt as badly as making the long trek to Irkngthand alongside Karliah and Brynjolf. Two of his friends, on the somber journey to kill a third. He had thieved and fought and bled by all of their sides, and Mercer had betrayed not just them, but their entire Guild as well. The Nightingales, and the rest of the Guild besides, were well justified in their desire for Mercer’s blood- or they would be, if he had been in control of his own actions. None of that mattered, though. The Key’s influence on him was severed and the entire Guild- Bezi himself excepted- believed that Mercer was gone. Looking down at the half-drowned Breton beside him, Bezi had to wonder if they were right. This wasn’t the confident, self-assured man he had once known. The barking, agitated man he became after stealing the Key. “Shh,” he soothed, placing a hand on Mercer’s shoulder as the smaller tried to speak. His brow furrowed and his heart cracked. “You weren’t yourself,” he said quietly. He turned to the firepit. He placed his hand in the kindling, and when he drew it away, flames sprang up to lick at his fingers and then sticks and broken branches. Satisfied, he settled beside Mercer, threw his heavy cloak over the man’s shoulders. “You’d never have hurt us under your own choice. “... Could you eat?”
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@gvildmastcr He kept his eyes trained forward as he dunked the stale bread in his stew and took a bite. “Do you ever miss the North? The true North, beyond the Wall?”
@gvildmastcr Bezi’s eyes traveled down, and then back up. He tried a little smile, and held out a small, odd little sandwich towards his Guild mate. Two dark wafers squished a layer of white creme filling. The wafers left dark little crumbs on the fingers. “Have one.”
@gvildmastcr || boop
He stops himself halfway, brow creasing and his face scrunching slightly as a result. As a thief, taking things that didn’t belong to him was something he often did - though whether he decided to turn said items for a profit or not depended entirely on his mood.
“Why not?” His expression shifts to a questioning one, which is cast over his shoulder at the other man. “It’s a lovely statue, don’t you think? I’m sure Elona would love to have this as a decoration in her chambers.” Despite the fact that stealing stuff is exactly what put him in her service in the first place. One a thief, always a thief, indeed.
Suddenly he seems amused by something, judging by the grin that spreads across his face.
“What, are you afraid that it’s cursed?”
The hair all along the back of his neck stood on end. The hairs on his arms were raised, and a feeling of unease coiled and clenched in his gut. Lifting his lip, baring his fangs just slightly, he rumbled as he took a step forward. One arm stood outstretched, a gesture for Mercer to still himself. Control himself, if such a thing were possible. “It’s not about what Elona likes,” he growled, quashing the sting of envy in his chest. “It’s-” He hissed, showing more of his fangs. “I know it’s cursed, Mercer! Can’t you feel it?” Turning, he hid slightly behind his own shoulder from the object. His free hand made a gesture with three fingers over his chest. “Leave it,” he urged.
