@vrohiir sent [ ✌ ] my muse reaches out to yours after months years of no communication.
The void was dark and cold- and for years (had it been years? Mathieu could not tell, time did not exist in the land of the Dread Father) it had been all Mathieu Bellamont had known since the day Lucien’s precious Silencer had slit his throat in the crypt of the Night Mother. He could still feel the blade along his throat- the blood running down his front and choking him. It had been a glorious death indeed- certainly the one he had dreamed about, and for a brief moment he had known peace. Until he had came into the void itself at least.
There he had met with the spirit of Lachance- and broke down as the regret of his decisions hit him with full force. His head had not been clear- not exactly- but he had been given a moment to think upon what he had done, and what Lucien had done for him. The man who had truly been the only father Mathieu had known- who had raised him with knives and blood- and yet had still given the boy the only normality he had known in his life. Had protected him even when it nearly meant the fall of the Dark Brotherhood.
Then just as suddenly as Lucien had come to him- he was gone again, and Mathieu had been left alone to wander the void- with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. And whispers that taunted his failure at revenge (despite the fact that Sithis had chosen the Breton to purge the Dark Brotherhood, to help reset its ways). He wandered with hopes of finding someone...anyone. His mother, Lachance...his Maria.Darkness had become Mathieu’s home, and his only companion-
So the sudden light, first clear and white and blinding then the soft glow of torches had been startling enough. For a moment the Breton had believed he had only been dead for a few minutes- that the torturous centuries he spent in the dark had only been the beginning and his real torment was to begin. Then he saw the people staring at him curiously- and realized he had recognized none of them. He did not know them from the sanctuaries he had destroyed, or the members of the Dark Brotherhood he had murdered. It took a few more seconds for him to realize- curiously enough, he was in a sanctuary. One based in a cave it seemed- and he knew for a fact that none in Cyrodiil had been based within a cave.
Where was he? How was he here? He looked over the small group, wondering if their confused faces would bring answers. All he heard was a red head mutter ‘that isn’t Lachance.’ No shit. Mathieu looked down upon himself, able to see the stone floor through his hands- a spirit. Of course he would be a spirit. For him to be brought back in flesh and bone, it would require his body and a skilled lich. And he doubted he had a body left to return to. He opened his mouth to speak- until he had noticed someone else standing off silently, seeming to be ignoring the group. Someone so, so familiar.
He would know Rathain anywhere- one could take his memories from him and he would still know down to his very soul who the vampire was. The dark hair and even darker eyes that always pierced through him. The eyes that stirred up so feelings Mathieu had not felt in so long. Lust and longing. Anger and loathing. But the strongest presence had been the feeling of relief- that Rathain was still around. He was alive. Mathieu had to admit to himself he had missed the vampire. More than he believed he would.
“Rathain...” his voice is but a whisper- hollow and empty. It’s all he can think to say at the moment, until he thinks of how to word the question of why the vampire is here. Among the Dark Brotherhood of all places.
The spirit chuckled as he thought of the irony of that turn of events.
