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@xneverknow
§
Send me §, for my character’s reaction to yours slowly slipping a knife into their chest.
Calla never thought that she would die in such a way. The shrouded woman forced her up against a wall and plunged her weapon into her chest. Her mouth was covered by a gloved hand and so even if she had a moment to scream, she would not be heard.
what are you guys ignoring me for when you could be a bitch to astrid
this is the place I choose to defend
and I’ll defend it to the
e n d
Don’t ever back me into a corner expecting me to break.
I do not go gentle.
I will take every single tear I shed on your behalf and use it as ammo in the war that you started.
I will fight until I can’t fight anymore and I will win.
Because while I might seem fragile to you
{ I have won more battles than you could imagine }
and I am stronger than any warrior this planet could muster up.
You bite me and I will bite back.
The trick is ——
—— my teeth are [ s h a r p e r ] than yours.
hey there im actually back..... !!! if there were any replies i missed pls let me know!
cicero.
Cicero eyes lacked any pity, any mercy, for her. She was the reason his Family was broken, the reason they were struggling to rebuild. She was the cause of his estrangement from them. The cause of so many deaths.
But…she was a Sister, at one time, and he was unsure how she had been spared or why.
"No," he said sharply, a tight whisper. "No, Cicero shall not kill you. Perhaps there is reason yet why you live." He moved to loom over her, for once taller than his Nordic counterpart.
"But hear me well and clearly. You do anything to hurt me or the Family again, and Cicero will make you wish he had killed you. You think you’re in misery now, but he can prove you wrong in that." Without another word, he lifted her into his arms, not careful or considerate of her numb limbs.
And he began to walk, not giving her any indication of where they were going.
The sharp jab of his bony fingers against her frail skin left her slight with breathlessness- it seemed like such a long time since she had last walked, breathed, felt someone other than her own skin. It didn't matter, though, because even that quickly dulled into numbness. She took comfort in the fact that his motley smelled nice.
She had nothing else to focus on.
Nothing else to care about.
Astrid had no intentions of ever putting anyone in the Family in danger ever again- she was sure she'd never be accepted among them again. Even so, it made her hope that maybe she could help them in subtle ways- if she ever recovered, that was.
Perhaps a parcel of coins to the Listener from odd jobs she would take. Perhaps Cicero was taking her to a more discreet place to kill.
It mattered little to her.
veezara.
His head tilted to the side slightly, betraying a certain amount of curiosity. She certainly doesn’t appear a ghost… Veezara mused, gaze locked on her in wary curiosity. He listened without words, straightening his head slowly. Even if the Listener had lied about killing Astrid, she should have been dead. He gave the barest of nods as she stated she expected no forgiveness.
Veezara never had been the forgiving type, and Astrid would know that. In old times, the transgressions of a Brotherhood member might be forgiven once, or even twice, if they proved strong enough to resist the Wrath of Sithis twice. How many tenets had Astrid broken in her time as Mistress of the Falkreath Sanctuary? On the other hand. She is standing before me, alive. She has died once at least for her failures… He rubbed at the edge of his eye, continuing to watch her carefully.
When he spoke, it was tentatively.
“You gave me purpose again, when my first Family fell,” he said slowly, “And guided me to a Path that brought me back into Mother’s embrace. I do not trust you. I do not forgive you. Before the Listener had any part of things, you were betraying the Brotherhood in more subtle ways.”
He took a breath, keeping his voice still flat and cold, not letting any of the anger seep into his words.
“But. You did keep the Brotherhood alive when it might have otherwise completely fallen, though perhaps not in the best of ways. You have also faced Sithis’s wrath in your death. Whether it was a mercy, or in response to your betrayals is beyond me. The Dread Father saw you fit to return to Nirn, likely for a purpose… perhaps so you might experience further pain in the Brotherhood’s hatred of you, but that’s beyond me as well.”
He paused, then shook his head a little bit.
“…I don’t know what to do now, Astrid. I don’t know if I should kill you again for betraying us, or take you to the Listener, or just… leave.”
Even as she stood now, nearly bear with only the thin, burnt cloak to protect her from the cold, she felt... eager. It was almost poetic that she stood here now, before one who would once have died for her.
Astrid, for all her ways she was set in, in all of the firmness that she held, knew now and forever that the Night Mother existed- perhaps had always existed. There was no longer a trace of doubt, or denial in her frail body. She knew when the Listener came. She knew when the Void beckoned her, and she knew now, as she stood, at Veezara's mercy.
But for all her regret, there was something inside of her that spark up in a fit of anger; never before did the Night Mother give her reason to believe that she existed. Sithis was more of a stigma- a point of motivation.
It was how she was raised in the Brotherhood, and so she knew no different.
And yet, she knew she was wrong. There was no point denying her failure. There was enough anguish inside of her already, and his words struck her worse than the Blade from that day. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, hands shook as they clasped the cloak and held it closed.
She did not want to die again; not really. Perhaps she could make things right. Atone. Even if she never was to be accepted into the Brotherhood again...
"Veezara, I have no right to suggest what you might do. What I did was to protect you; protect your Brothers. It was rash and foolish and wrong, but I did it for the ones I loved. I cared for you all. Even the Listener. I still do. There must be... something I can do. I know I can never make things right; and I deserve no forgiveness... I still have my skill, and I still love you; all of you. Even if you kill me, please... please just let me tell what is left of my family how... sorry I am. You, as well."
veezara.
He watched her quietly for a few moments, just observing, then sighed. The Listener had told him what Astrid had said. About wanting things to go back to “normal” within the Brotherhood. Several thoughts warred to make it out of his mouth first, so he stuck to shaking his head for a moment, trying to order them cohesively. He supposed the most pressing question would be…
"How did you survive? I thought the Listener killed you in the Sanctuary." it was stated with all the cold flatness you might expect out of an Argonian. No passion, just wariness.
"I didn't."
In a rather varied circumstance, it would have sounded like a harsh retaliation from the stubborn woman, but now it only sounded of confusion; perhaps even childlike.
Astrid swallowed, hard, against the growing lump in her throat. "The Listener did kill me," she pressed, casting her viridescent gaze to the ground. "It was a mercy I didn't deserve, truthfully. I was going to die from the burns and smoke anyway; no one could come back from that."
Defeated was the first word that sprang to mind. "Perhaps I'm only here so I can truly feel the wrath of our Dread Father. I expect no forgiveness from you, Veezara, or anyone else, but know..."
A firm bite against her lips to keep from becoming emotional. "...know I would do anything to take it all back... I was so stupid to think I could fix everything on my own, in such a foolish way. Especially by denying the Tenets for so long. You stood by me, and I... I thought you died; I failed you all. I..."
No more words would leave her mouth without her choking on each breath, so she simply stopped. She was already broken.
cicero.
"Deserve, what an apt phrase you choose. There are many who did not get what they deserved from your selfishness," he spat, thinking of the fallen Brothers and Sisters whose lives were ended.
His eyes were as cold as the snow around them, despite their fiery color. “Cicero is tempted, oh believe me, he is!” he said with a humorless chuckle, allowing himself to be the jester, the only side of him she ever knew. “But he cannot help but question why, just why you, are alive. To kill you…it may not serve.”
"I do not mean it an any benefit to myself, believe me," She exhaled, hardly even noticing that her shivering had become worse since he had last spoken. "I know. I do. I'd do anything to take it all back. Not for myself, but for the others..."
Damn, she was weak, because the tears spilled no matter how hard she tried to hold them in.
"For Veezara, Festus, Gabriella... Arnbjorn. For you, and the Listener. For Babette and Nazir, too."
Her breathing sped up, only a tad, and the cold stung her lungs and throat. She didn't know what to do, and he twisted her words to make everything she said sound selfish- but perhaps he was right.
"Dammit, Cicero, kill me!" She screamed and collasped to the ground as her legs gave out from the consuming cold. "I don't know why I'm here! I can't fix anything! I can only ruin it more! I only wanted my family safe and now most of them are dead..."
The former assassin sobbed into the snow. Her legs were numb; her fingers, too, and her face was fast on it's way. Pathetic, but it was all she could do, for no longer could she move.
cicero.
Cicero’s head jerked sharply to the side, better to hear the faint voice over the howling wind.
That smooth voice. Soft and pleading. He hated it!
"Sister," he said curtly, turning on his heel and fingering his dagger. "Or not. You no longer deserve that title." His orange eyes flickered over her curiously. "Cicero thought you were dead," he laughed, as though the idea pleased him.
Astrid's weary eyes made no attempt to show the alarm she was feeling. He knew. She knew he did. Instead, she meagerly drew the cloak a bit tighter around her in a futile attempt to shield herself from the wind and light snow. Her Nordic blood seemed to offer no mercy against the temperature now.
He was exactly how she remembered him, except perhaps more alert. Maybe even a bit more healthy looking. The voice was the same though; the words, the tone, everything. Except this time, he wasn't kissing up.
After a moment, she simply nodded at him in agreement. "You're right. I don't."
The snow brushed against her cheeks, but now it wasn't the climate that have her shivering. It was the presence of the motley-clad man before her.
Perhaps it was now time for her to suck up, but that's not what it was, really. "I thought I was too. I damn sure deserve to be... that much I'm sure of." No, this was blatant and sincere.
She blinked the snowflakes from her eyelashes. She couldn't break now. Even after everything, the stubborn Nord would not allow herself to cry. That was weak. Tears were for those who deserved pity.
Astrid was not one of them.
"I'm weak. My heart aches from all I've done and if you don't kill me the frost will. I'm not strong enough to fight it. Not now. Though, I'm sure you'd just love to allow me to suffer. Do what you must, Keeper."
cicero.
Perhaps this was all an illusion.
Maybe this was all a dream; an odd, uneasy dream that encompassed her mind and chilled her poorly-clothed body to the very bones.
How?
How could she be here? Why?
She didn't deserve life, but perhaps death was too kind. If death was too kind, life could easily bring her soul and heart the pain of losing her family; her everything. The punishment she deserved.
Bare, red feet stumbled through the thin layer of dusty snow, aimless; searching. Searching for what? Nothing, really. Anything, maybe. Refuge, shelter. Sanctuary. No, she couldn't go back. Never, as much as she wished she could walk through that door and see her husband and Brothers, Sisters... she knew she could not.
This was no dream. This was no vision. This was real.
The motley was what gave it away. The strangely familiar outfit of a lethal Jester who once made an attempt on her life, right in his ways. She felt no hatred for him now, only fear. Only sadness. Perhaps she had seen him before he had seen her, but silence was a burden she could bare no longer.
"You've found me, Keeper," She murmured, quiet, but loud enough for him to hear. "If you're going to kill me, do it. Please."
veezara.
Veezara quietly eyed the woman. How was she alive? Why was she alive? His eyes narrowed by a fraction. "I am no Brother of your’s, Astrid," the argonian said softly, a certain level of enmity evident from his tone, "You betrayed us.”
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She should have known better! Her jaw clenched to keep the sob from escaping her throat. Of course none of them would want anything to do with her! By Sithis, she didn't even want anything to do with herself. Watching her family fall, seeing her Sanctuary destroyed, being burnt to nothing besides bone and muscle- that wasn't punishment enough, was it? No, this was it. It was to see everyone she loved push her away.
And she didn't blame them. She didn't blame him.
"Of course," She murmured hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
veezara.
He was dead. She remembers. She remembers him falling, outnumbered, exhausted. So how was he there? No, no, she must be crazy. Yet, should couldn't keep the words from leaving her lips. "Brother..."
kade.
The breath from her mouth turned to transparent tendrils in the icy air as she wandered along an unmarked path. Where was she? How long had it been? "Who's there?" Called the lady cloaked in charred cloth.
S K Y R I M : T H E D A R K B R O T H E R H O O D
