#shadowmark

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“Hey you. You’re finally awake,” she greeted him, placing the end of her braid between her teeth so it wouldn’t come undone as she pulled a ribbon from a pocket of her pack.

Cicero shrugged off the pelt and sat up to stretch. He reached above his head, straightening his spine and popping the joints all the way up his back. 

“That was like sleeping in Markarth,” he groaned and curled his body inward. Then he stood up and rolled his shoulders back and forth, releasing the tension that had built up from sleeping on a wooden floor. 

“Sorry, I should have offered the bed. I have slept on many a floor. I’m used to it.”

“No, no, Cicero would have insisted Arynelle sleep in the bed anyway.”

He reached for his motley. It was still damp, so he spread it back over the chair. Then he felt his boots and sighed.

He motioned to the damp clothing, “We have some time to kill.”

“Yeah,” Arynelle acknowledged. “I should have laid them out last night but I just landed on the bed already asleep, I think.” She had finished tying the ribbon to secure her braid and had wound the braid up at the nape of her neck and tied the whole thing in a knot. “We have to go back to Solitude today to collect upon the contract, right?”

Cicero nodded. “Yes, Sister. Erikur will be expecting us.”

“Do you think they’ve been discovered yet?” 

Cicero shrugged. “They may or they may not have. If they have not, Cicero would prefer we collect and move along before they do, just to be safe. If they have, we just act as shocked as everyone else.”

Arynelle rolled her eyes. “I was planning on owning up to it. I hear the Solitude dungeon has soft hay.”

Cicero shook his head and rolled his own eyes right back at her. He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a wrapped wedge of cheese. He broke a piece off and offered it to Arynelle, but she declined and pulled out another apple from her own pack. The two assassins ate and took turns poking at the fire, willing the heat to dry their damp clothing so they could get on with the day’s tasks. 

When the clothes were as dry as they could hope for, Cicero chose a corner and changed back into his motley.

“Do the blood stains ever come out?” Arynelle asked Cicero from the center of the room, examining the sleeves of her armor. 

“Not really,” he told her. “Cicero sees them as a collection. A mosaic of souls for our Dread Lord.”

Arynelle frowned but dropped her arms to her sides. 

The sun had reached mid-point in the sky and they walked out into the brisk air. There were clouds, but the sunny day clouds that gave brief shadows as they drifted over the light of the sun. Cicero was leading Arynelle back to Solitude and she was stopping to pick deathbells every once in awhile, tucking them into her satchel for potion-making later on.

“I can’t believe how many there are here,” she called to Cicero who was almost out of earshot from her.

Cicero nodded, adding, “Nightshade too. Cicero’s personal favorite.”

They reached the water and Cicero frowned at the prospect of getting wet again. Arynelle pointed to a man in a small rowboat who was making his way down the river. 

“We could ask him?” she suggested.

“He could be a bandit, but at this point Cicero is willing to take his chances.” He yawned. The previous night had been the thrill Arynelle made it out to be and combined with the restless, broken sleep on the floor, Cicero was considering taking the carriage back to Dawnstar after collecting.

Arynelle flagged the man in the boat down and he agreed to bring them across for a piece of gold each. The two gladly handed over the gold and climbed in. It took just a moment and then they were out again. 

“Hail Sithis,” the rowman uttered with a knowing look as the two climbed out. Arynelle caught Cicero’s eyes but he shut them and shook his head. Nothing to worry about, Arynelle, Cicero seemed to convey, just a nobody. 

They soon found themselves inside of Solitude’s walls and headed toward Erikur’s house. They would start there and if need be, find him wherever else he lurked in Solitude. Arynelle remembered which house was his and as they approached the door Cicero took notice of the Thieves Guild shadowmark carved into the residence. Protected. CIcero should have known they’d have Erikur in their pockets. Or rather they were in his. For a lot of gold, too, probably.

There was no answer at the door so they headed to the Blue Palace. As they walked they passed guards and townspeople talking amongst themselves about the Radiant Raiment sisters. 

“Did you hear what they did to Endarie?”

“Tarrie was much worse, in my opinion. Who would do such a thing?”

“Who would ever want to harm such beauty?”

They ignored the voices around them and finally reached the Blue Palace where they found Erikur up the stairs and standing near Elisif. They waited patiently nearby until he noticed their presence and strode toward them.

“Now’s not a good time,” he told them.

Cicero opened his mouth to protest, closed it and pursed his lips. Arynelle watched with hyperfocus to see how Cicero would respond.

“Kind sir,” he began with a forced smile. “You’ve made an arrangement. Now is the time. We will wait outside the palace for the next fifteen minutes and no longer.”

Erikur nodded and motioned for them to leave. Arynelle and Cicero descended the stairs and exited the way they came in. They stood under the overhang of the castle in wait. 

After a few minutes it was beginning to be apparent that Erikur would not be coming. Arynelle nudged Cicero in the ribs. 

“What do we do now?” 

“This doesn’t happen often and Erikur in particular should have no trouble coming up with the gold. It’s certainly odd,” Cicero confessed. 

“Do we kill him too?”

“Only as a last resort. Let Cicero speak to Brynjolf first.”

“Why Brynjolf? Who is Brynjolf?” Arynelle looked like she was going to burst with questions. She was an eager student of Cicero’s despite their tendency to bicker and tease. She was utterly confused by his mention of bringing someone else into the mix.

“Erikur’s house has a shadowmark. It’s a Thieves Guild symbol. He’s protected, you see. We don’t go by their rules at all, but it can be beneficial to keep the connection open. Cicero will figure out if they can arrange for him to pay. If not, then Sithis would always welcome another soul.”

“Oh,” was all Arynelle could say. 

Will Myss remain a Trapper, or will she become a Wraith?

I tried lineless and I think I did okay?

I was gonna color Nocturnal but I’m not so sure Kirsa would have that colored in

Some romantic fluff because Choice is getting heavy on the angst and I really needed to write some fluff. Enjoy! Mark groaned softly, eyes closed and his head resting against the soft padding of the wingback chair as gentle fingers traced the lines behind his ears, the scars from the many times he’d been taken apart and put back together. Those fingers, calloused and warm, tracked down the scars of his throat and shoulders and ghosted over skin pale and discoloured from years of being covered by the flexible armouring that had hidden the many modifications he’d made to himself over the years - the things he had done to himself to be better, to create better, to erase the man who had built the Zero-X and in his failure had killed one of the few good people in the world.

He’d never, ever thought he could ever have something like this, to be treated with such tenderness, such love, and such compassion. 

So many people had looked at his scars with fear, pity or disgust, so he’d covered them up with tattoos and armour, progressively building up the persona of The Mechanic to hide himself behind. 

But not her. 

Kayo looked at him and saw him. His scars and modifications weren’t ignored, they were acknowledged, but she saw him first. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell her how precious that is to me,” Mark thought, all but melting under the gentle affection as she traced the tattoos on his upper arms, “but I will gladly spend every day I have left finding ways to do so.” 

Soft lips brushed his and he kissed her back with what he hoped was tenderness tempered with love, his bare hands resting on her clothed waist as she straddled his lap. Kayo made a soft sound and kissed him again, her hands on his sides because she couldn’t put her arms around him in a hug right now, then she shifted to rest her forehead in the crook of his shoulder, her unbound hair tickling his skin. 

Enjoy! Mark=Mechanic

“May I kiss you?” Mark asked softly, his thumb ever so gently brushing her cheek. 

From someone else, the question might have ruined the moment, but she knew what was behind it- having had his ability to choose for himself taken away and his will smothered by another’s, consent was very important for him. 

“Yes.” Kayo murmured back, lightly resting her hands on his waist. 

The first was so gentle and light she could have almost imagined it, but it was so loving it was electric. The second was more confident, and she discovered the truth behind the old cliche of ‘it took my breath away’ when the third happened. 

“...wow.” Kayo smiled when they finally came up for air, seeing the faint blush that stained his cheeks. “May I kiss you?” She asked. 

There was something very vulnerable in Mark’s eyes as he answered her, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Please?” 

Kayo leaned in to close the small distance between them, copying his lead with first a gentle, testing kiss to make sure he was okay, then a deeper one, followed by another one… and then she lost count as the kisses became shared and not something that one was giving the other. By the time they parted again, his fingers were in her hair, his other hand resting on her hip, and she had both arms twined around his neck. 

“Wow.” It was his turn to smile at her, a gentle expression that softened his features in a way that she hadn’t realised was possible as she caught a glimpse of the man he’d been before the Zero-X, before the Hood and the moniker of ‘The Mechanic’. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then turned his head to murmur in her ear. “Tanusha…I love you.”