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Babette walked inside the lab. She could sniff out the alchemical reagents from outside – it had to be a lab, since most of these smells shouldn't have grown in Blackreach. It was dusty and hadn't been touched in decades, if the skeleton in the center of the room was anything to go by. This wasn't the person she'd been sent to kill. Someone must have called the Black Sacrament on the treasure hunter because Dwemer automatons and Falmer couldn't do the job.
Babette had to admit her curiosity on this contract. She usually did jobs in cities where her young appearance made killing all too simple, and she often did more of those jobs ever since the Night Mother's return. Oddly enough, the Listener told her that the Night Mother specifically requested that the "Unliving One," should be the one to complete this contract. Being sent in a Dwemer Ruin and a Falmer city was outside of Babette's experiences, but her skill and some pointers on dungeon delving from the Listener were more than enough to get her in the heart of Blackreach.
She'd have to ask the Listener about their life before the Dark Brotherhood. They knew an awful lot about Dwemer ruins.
Babette was open to new experiences, however, seeing as there were very few she hadn't experienced already. She could contend with elves for her years of experience.
Babette sat on the dusty, untouched bed. By the Divines, she was thirsty. Falmer blood was like rotted and moldy caviar; a rich flavor tainted over time. She didn't even need living blood. She would die for a sweetroll, or anything the Gourmet could whip up. Of course, the Gourmet's recipes turned out to be extremely unpalatable after he died. She always knew that a full cup of nutmeg wasn't right, but perhaps the vampire bit of her wanted whatever would be unpalatable for the living.
She was about to get up and resume her search, but she caught another whiff of the alchemical table. Old, yes, but well-used in its time. She waddled over to the table and tried to peer over it. The user used to be quite tall. Perhaps an Altmer? Regardless, she had to stand on a chair to get a good look at what turned out to be an efficient and splendid alchemy set up. The contents were battered by age and soiled by time, but from a whiff of the ingredients she could immediately tell one of the components.
Nirnroot; unaged and as fresh as it was seemingly more than a century ago. And of course, after all these years it never stopped its therapeutic, beautiful song. If there was ever the sound of home aside from the Sanctuary's normal bustle, it would be Nirnroot.
Babette looked back at the skeleton. It was an Altmer skeleton, she was sure of it. She knelt down to investigate it. The man was surely a good alchemist, and a devoted one at that to come to a place as dagerous as Blackreach. Almost like…
Hesitantly, the vampire picked up the journal clutched firm in the skeleton's hand. With a sigh, exhaling her lifeless breath in anxiety, she opened the first page.
It flocked back to her. Skingrad. Her roots in alchemy. Her first true murder.
"…Sinderion."
It rained in Skingrad when Babette slunk past the city walls and into the West Weald. Decades of hiding in caves and away from adventurers taught her everything she could about sneaking about. A quick pick of the lock while the bartender was distracted, and she snuck into the basement. She couldn't tell what the smells were exactly, but they smelled too weird to be anything normally provided by an inn. It had to be the alchemist.
She took a single muffled step down the stairs before an Altmer raised his voice. "I specifically requested not to be disturbed, thank you very much Erina."
Babette sucked in her breath. Not that she needed to breathe in the first place.
"Hmm? Much too light a breath and footstep to be Erina." From the corner of the wall staircase a face emerged, golden face smudged with soot and white hair frizzed and unkempt, with several colorful liquids in it. "And you are…?"
"B-Babette." She mumbled. "You're... You're Mr. Sinderion, right? I need your help.
"Hmm? I am a very busy person. Perhaps you can find another-"
The sack of precious jewelry tossed into his hands shut him up.
"I heard you were the best... um... alchemist around. This is a problem the chapels can't help me with."
"Er…." Sinderion picked up the sack. Stringed pearls and rings with gemstones – real gemstones – embedded in them. "Where did you get this, dear girl?"
By the Divines, she hated being called that.
"My aunt has Porf… Porfira… The v-vampire sickness." She stammered. "It's too late for the priests to heal her. I need a potion to cure it."
"Very well then…" Sinderion placed the sack aside. "I have several side projects at the moment, so I can't work on it just yet, but perhaps we can talk more of your… aunt's illness."
Sinderion pulled a chair out for Babette, which she had difficulty hopping on top of. She tapped her foot impatiently at the leg of the chair as Sinderion stepped to his alchemy table. The contents of the table were a mystery to her, but it didn't matter as long as they could produce the cure.
"I assume both you and your aunt are Breton?"
"Yes." Babette said, eyeing Sinderion's neck. He'd better get on with the cure soon for his own sake.
"And where did she contract the illness? And by what vampire clan?"
"Vampire… Clan?"
"Many Vampire Clans spread across Tamriel, you know."
"She was… er… bitten in Daggerfall. That's all I know."
"And your folks sent you alone to Cyrodiil for a cure from me." His tone wasn't inquisitive. Rather, it was matter-of-fact, as if Babette's tale didn't interest him much.
"M-My mother bought a room here at the West Weald. She sent me to you to do.. um... business, while she spoke with the innkeeper…"
There was a bit of a silence. Babette observed the Altmer's actions. His face was the epitome of focus but his posture was relaxed. His hands moved deftly as they softly grabbed the ingredients, putting them into glass containers and balancing mushrooms, mixing two liquid vials in one hand and crushing leaves in a mortar with the other. Every movement seemed to be pure muscle memory and instinct for the Altmer.
"So your aunt. How long have they been a vampire?"
"For th-three years now."
"Three years is beyond even my expertise. So I don't imagine…" Babette clenched the underside of her chair. "That it would help a vampire decades old."
"...What?"
"I work with vampire dust all the time. You have the same smell about you."
Babette was about to pounce. She was ready to reveal her fangs. She was ready to leap at him and silence him with her claws around his neck. But Sinderion didn't turn around. He didn't speak with fear in his voice, nor aggression.
"Yes. I'm a vampire." She spat. Babette stood straightly in her seat, dropping the facade. "I would like a cure."
Sinderion slowly turned. "As I said before, I have many projects that need attending to-"
"Maybe I can speed up this meeting for both of us?" Babette rested her chin on her hand, claws fully displayed.
"…Very well then." Sinderion barely seemed fazed, lifting up the sack of jewelry and alternating his gaze between it and Babette. "Real carrot and stick method. Effective but brute. I'm surprised a vampire such as yourself wouldn't be any subtler…"
Babette decided to let that comment slide. Maybe this Altmer could be her salvation. She would be a living girl again. It was almost too good to be true.
Of course it was too good to be true. Something always had to come up. In Babette and Sinderion's case, it was the Oblivion Crisis. Sinderion occupied his time with making potions for the wounded, as well as studying the ingredients adventurers brought from Oblivion and studying this thing called Nirnroot; a weed that made what Babette thought was the most annoying noise she'd heard in her 100 years as a vampire.
Oh yeah... Tomorrow is my birthday. Maybe I'll get a cake with someone's liver in it.
Babette didn't see Sinderion often, despite staying in the same Inn. She managed to get a room all to herself if she gave the innkeeper extra septims to ask no questions, including where she got the coin from. If the people of the homes she snuck into to feed wouldn't notice a few drops of blood missing, they wouldn't notice a few coins missing either.
Tonight, however, she did see him. Babette looked at the sweetroll in front of her. As much as blood grew on her, nothing beat a good sweetroll. She even asked the innkeeper to put a candle in it. Should vampires even celebrate birthdays? Maybe she should celebrate her death day? Turning day? She'd find a name for it soon.
"Rare to see you outside your den, little vampire." Babette didn't even glance as Sinderion pulled up a chair next to her. She was surprised to see him pour a glass for her, however. "Perhaps some wine can help that sweetroll go down. Salmo makes them heavy."
"Heh... Rare to see a High Elf without a stick up his ass." Babette quipped back. She did smile to show her gratitude, at least. Looking like a child didn't do much for her if she wanted something other than blood to drink.
"So I did some research on vampirism." Sinderion started. "It stumped me for a while. I had to ask Ms. Hlaalu for some help?"
"Falanu Hlaalu? The other alchemist from Morrowind?"
"She's knowledgeable on the subject of undeath... Though not for reasons you'd want to know, little vampire."
"I smell the bonemeal on her everytime I see her in the Inn. Trust me - I know." Babette shuddered.
The two ate in silence for a while. Babette hadn't had a meal she could share with in a while, save for the occasional wolf. It was nice, not being treated like a monster for once.
Of course, she still was a monster.
"...Hey, Sinderion?"
"Hmm?" The alchemist placed his own meal of bread and cheese down.
"Do you have anything for nightmares?"
"Er... None that would work for a vampire. Why?"
Babette sighed. "When you turn into a vampire, the starting process is... scary. 90 years ago I had nightmares of me scaring people I loved, and awful images of me as a vampire... As a monster."
"I... I'm sorry, but-"
"Of course they all came true. I'm definitely a monster" Babette said, matter of factly. Sinderion could have sworn her lips slightly curled upwards. "But sometimes the dreams still kick in."
"Is it... Is it painful?"
"It's more bothersome than anything." Babette murmured. "Though I suppose I'll have to deal with them for now."
Babette tried her best to hide her eyes from Sinderion's view, swirling the wine glass in front of her.
Sinderion smiled with sympathy. "Would it interest you to know that there's another vampire in Skingrad?"
Babette nearly dropped the glass.
"Oh yes," he continued. "Count Janus Hassildor does a fine job hiding it, but a skilled enough alchemist can detect it a mile away. Or in my case, detect unlife a mile away."
"T-The Count?!" She whispered.
"Yes. Reclusive, rarely holds audiences... I've been to his castle to deliver a special order for one of his servants. The man's paintings practically scream 'vampire.'
Babette paused. Maybe she'd sneak into the castle one day. It'd be nice to talk to another cursed one. That is, if she'd be willing to outrun dozens of guards.
"I heard from a friend - the same one that provides me my Nirnroot samples - that Janus cured his wife of vampirism as well."
"They trust you with that information?!"
"I trusted them with the information that I had a vampire friend interested in being alive again." Sinderion said. "They're an adventuring type through and through. If anyone was to find a cure for vampirism other than me, it'd be them."
"So... what's the cure?" Babette asked, a bit of life in her dead eyes.
"A witch. Glenmoril, like the ones in Skyrim. She can make a potion even I can't. Imbued with the Witch's old magics and arcane powers beyond my expertise. I'll ask my friend to contact her next time they drop off some Nirnroot and ask them for some samples."
"So it's only a matter of time?"
"That, and hoping she survives the Crisis. You'll be a little Breton soon again, little vampire." Sinderion raised his glass. "To life?"
Babette should have felt happy, but being a vampire dulled the emotions a little bit. She knew what she should have been feeling: Joy.. She'd grown so used to the skulking, to the masquerading, to the killing that it was practically second nature. It was her nature. But not for long.
Babette raised her glass of wine. "To life!"
Babette came down to see Sinderion's room empty. Nothing but alchemy equipment and dust, as well as noisy Nirnroot. By the divines, she'd burn them if they didn't belong to her friend.
Was Sinderion her friend?
Maybe. Maybe it was just business that kept them in contact.
Babette was about to leave, but she caught a whiff of something. Something eerily familiar. Vampire dust was much more pungent and corrupted than the slight, near-undetectable scent of death that vampires carried, but her nose could sniff it out. Along with that, something sweeter was in the air. Stale at this point, not as aromatic, but unmistakably divine.
Sweetrolls.
It was difficult for Babette to peer over the table. Clearly, it was made for the tall Altmer alchemist in mind, but a nearby crate let her see the alchemy setup. The sweetroll was half-diced ready to be put into one of these glass bottles, and the vampire dust had already been scooped up into a small dish. Babette was puzzled by the entire set-up, but she took a nearby glance at the nearby book.
The Fundaments of Alchemy.
Picturing Sinderion having to look at a book meant for rookie Alchemists was disconcerting, but a glance at the first page made Babette raise her eyebrow. There were almost more notes scribbled in the margins than the printed text itself. Sinderion's personal notes, often measurements or ingredients that made some potions more efficient, or where to find the best ingredients, or tricks to using the calcinator and alembic... whatever they were. It was mostly gibberish to Babette, but she managed to read at least the simplest of the printed text.
Wortcraft was great when it came to the sweetroll. Just grinding the material against the teeth didn't seem bad, especially considering that her teeth were practically cheese graters. The vampire dust felt... wrong. Not that it could be interpreted as cannibalism in a sense (Though that thought occurred to Babette for a moment), but the substance itself. It tasted unholy. It tasted like everything she hated about being a vampire.
Oddly enough, there was less and less Babette hated about being a vampire over time.
Then came the alchemical process itself. It was odd to think of the sweetroll being in potions, but she boiled it in with the water along with the dust. It was a clumsy process for her. She made a mistake or two, forgetting some steps during the distillation and spilling the potion on Sinderion's desk.
According to Sinderion's notes, she had an admittedly amateur potion of Resist Disease.
If only this could cure my vampirism faster than waiting for the Witch.
Babette walked upstairs, ready to turn in for the night. She had a few burns on her hand and her dress was stained with potion. Still, she accomplished... something, today.
She gave a smile - just a tiny one - as she walked up the stairs, only to nearly drop the potion as she bumped into Sinderion holding a basket of groceries.
"S-Sinderion!" She stammered, hiding the potion behind he back. "I just came in here to ask about that Witch, but you weren't here! I was just heading upstairs."
"Ah. Putting that key to good use then?"
"As you said, it's best not to disturb an alchemist unless I want the Inn to explode." She said coyly, trying to hide her minor panic.
"Right." Sinderion smiled. "So I haven't seen the adventurer in a while, but they... sweetroll? And vampire dust?"
"E-er..."
"They smell... They smell fresher than I'd expect from the staling process..." Sinderion took a deep sniff, and then chuckled. "Curious about the craft, are we?"
"Um... You see, the sweetroll was going to go bad, and I had one just earlier. I wanted to-"
Siderion kneeled, placing the basket aside, and put a hand on Babette's shoulder. "As in ingredient, sweetrolls are easier to work with when slightly stale to turn into a thin, crumby powder so it mingles better with the vampire dust. And from the smell of it... the vampire dust was mixed in manually. The boiling process lets the dust dissolve slower, which draws out the properties a bit more."
Babette simply glared, and then looked at the potion. It had chunks of pastry still swimming around in the vial.
"Well..." Sinderion chuckled. "Perhaps I'll show you how I do it tomorrow, yes? It's very early in the morning, little vampire. You should rest."
Sinderion continued down into his room, leaving Babette wondering halfway up the steps.
She'd grown so used to Sinderion's lab over the months. The smell of all the ingredients was so distinctive to her, it registered to her nose as the scent of home. Her lessons in here made her familiar with all the parts of the room, especially when she and Sinderion cleaned their latest failed potion off the ceilings and corners. It was all just a part of learning, the Altmer said. Babette even started to grow less and less annoyed by the numerous samples of Nirnroot either laying around or in pots. It was almost like they were singing.
Babette peered on the table where her latest potion was bubbling. Sinderion was kind enough to invest in a stool for her to stand on.
"It's like tea... But with cheese in it." Babette said flatly, looking at her own alchemical set up containing Dragon's Tongue and a half-melted cheese wedge. Her setup was small, but efficient. Good for learning.
Learning. Learning like she was a child again. It was odd, but with Sinderion she didn't hate the occasional child treatment.
"And the end result," Sinderion said, bottling the odd solution for his student, "Is a potion of Fire Resistance. Quite useful if you need to step out in the day."
"Hah... Right." Babette said, looking at the potion. As she pocketed the potion, she looked at her hand. It was even paler than usual. She hadn't fed in a while. In the past few days Sinderion was teaching her basic alchemy, she seemed to forget about her necessities.
"You've improved a lot." Sinderion said, picking up the alembic. "Now comes the worst part of any alchemical process."
"Which is...?"
"Why, cleaning the equipment, little vampire."
Sinderion broke into a small chuckle, which may as well have been guffawing by the High Elven standards. Babette couldn't help but give a smile at that.
"You know, I wonder why you haven't picked up alchemy over the years. You must've had a lot of time, and you have a bit of a knack for it, it seems."
"Well, I guess I was busy." Babette grabbed a cloth, wrapping it around her finger and wiping the inside of a vial with it. "Besides, it hinders your progress when you can't see over the-"
The door clicked. Instinct took over Babette as she unsheathed her claws, but Sinderion calmly turned around. It was the adventurer, holding a basket of nirnroot, their humming like an ethereal choir.
The conversation was hushed. The adventurer gave an occasional glimpse at Babette, who lurked behind the alchemy table, and nodded to Sinderion before they left, just before exchanging the nirnroot basket for a basket of seemingly random ingredients that Sinderion cobbled together.
"They say they'll talk to her. They'll have the potion next time they come."
Babette was quiet for a moment, and then hugged Sinderion tightly. It was nice, embracing warmth with her cold skin.
"So before you turn into a proper Breton girl again," Sinderion started, "I'm very curious about your life as a vampire."
"Curious? I'm a vampire, I drink blood." Babette laughed, showing her fangs and mocking a predatory pose. "Blah!"
"Hah... Call it an alchemist's academic curiosity.
"Honestly, it's... It's not pleasant or interesting. Just me hiding in caves and feeding off rats or pretending to be a kid long enough to get what I need from cities."
Sinderion pulled up two chairs, pouring glasses of wine for them. That was a benefit of having someone know you were a vampire - not having to sneak alcohol under your skirt.
"Elves live long lives. It'd be interesting to get perspective from a human who lived even a fraction of an elf's life."
"Well alright then." Babette muttered, sipping her wine. It was smooth and rich, but too thin for her taste. Really, she only drank it because it reminded her of blood. The color nearly matching the color that came from a freshly-bitten neck. The taste was okay, but blood. That's what she needed right now.
"Hmmm... I was born in Daggerfall, and when I was 10 years old, I... um..."
The Altmer's neck looked soft.
"...Babette? You're drifting off."
"I... I need to step out!" She stammered. Seeing Sinderion's concerned face, she coughed. "I haven't fed in a while."
"...I see." Sinderion gave an understanding nod. Babette could see his worry, not only for her, but for whichever poor soul she'd have to feed from.
"Don't worry, Sinderion." Babette said. "I'll be a normal girl again soon."
"Well, I wouldn't call you normal."
"W-what?"
"When you're a living girl again, you'll be a better alchemist than most adult humans I know!" Sinderion said proudly. "You have a talent, and with some cultivation you'll be a splendid alchemist! I'll make sure of it!
Babette felt her cold blood rush to her cheeks.
"...Thanks?"
He smiled back. "If you have a talent, you must put it to good use! And never do it for free, of course." He pulled his shirt down, revealing one of the necklaces Babette had paid him with. It felt like yesterday instead of a year and a half since then.
"I'll keep that in mind." Babette chuckled. "I'll only be out for 30 minutes, time willing!"
She gave a final wave to the alchemist before she saw him turn back to the alchemical setups, continuing to clean the glasses, as she moved upstairs with her eyes gleaming with hunger.
She gripped her dress in stress, ripping the fabric, while she tried to fight off her hunger. Maybe it was her heightened instincts, but she also couldn't help but panic over the Witch's potion.
She was going to be a human again, and yet she did't feel as enthusiastic as she did when she first came to Sinderion. She passed by the chapel, glaring at the potion in her hand. Hopefully, she wouldn't need it when she was living again. Maybe she'd live a normal life? Grow up normally, maybe get a job as a history teacher. Divines knew she'd seen enough history for a human. Maybe she'd even be an alchemist, like Sinderion?
Though... why did she want to be living again? She felt cold most of the time, and felt emotion rarely and faintly. She only really knew that she wanted to be living again because that's what the living Babette would want. She was just playing off what living Babette would want, just because she had no drive as a vampire - no purpose.
She had no purpose.
Before she could think more about that, a hushed whisper called out to her.
"Psst! You, over here!"
Babette turned to face a Bosmer, peeking from behind the Chapel.
"Uh..."
"Breton girl! I need your help!"
Babette sighed. She'd been in this situation before, and it always ended in some pervert drained of their blood.
"M-Mr. Wood Elf," She started. "I n-need to hurry home. My m-mother's waiting for-"
"Don't worry, vampire! I know your secret! And you're the only one I can trust!"
"...What's the point of looking like a kid if everyone knows you're a vampire?! I need to work on acting like a little girl!" She muttered as she walked over by the Bosmer.
"Excellent! I have your attention! Now-"
"You're a special sort of fool if you think a vampire's trustworthy."
"Y-yes, I know, but you don't understand! This town - they're all after me!"
"...Come again?"
"I-It sounds ridiculous, but I know it!" The Bosmer coughed. "The winemakers, the merchants. By the Divines, I even think the baker's after me!"
Babette needed to hear the whole story first before leaving. The ridiculousness of it all made her nearly forget about her hunger.
The Bosmer continued. "I know you're a vampire. I've seen you skulking around at night when I'm watching Bernadette Peneles' house, sneaking in and out of homes! I can't trust anyone here, and you also must tread lightly! I need your help to... get rid of some people."
"Get rid of people? Like... Like the Dark Brotherhood?"
"Ha! Can't even trust them! The Night Mother is a fraud, I know it! A mastermind of one of the organizations to take down the Morag Tong!"
"Look, get to the point or else I'm leaving. You don't even seem like your blood's worth draining."
"Now that's the thing! I know you're friends with Sinderion! I know that he knows that you're a vampire! He's using you, you see! Using you for research! Like he does with me!"
Babette yawned and leaned against the chapel wall.
"He sneaks into my house with Falanu Hlaalu! They both experiment on me! It's why my hair's been turning gray! So... Next time you see Sinderion, don't trust him!" Seeing Babette's raised eyebrow, the Bosmer smiled. "He's weakening me so the others can get to me! If we can get rid of him, make it look like an acciden-"
And that was when Babette sunk her teeth into his throat.
Babette slept well that night. Some semblance of color returned to her pale skin. She had to brush her teeth extra hard to remove evidence of her latest feast, and burned the blood-stained clothes. She could always steal some more. By the Divines, breaking and entering, murder, and a cold and unfeeling mindset throughout it all. She might as well have been an assassin at this point.
She'd killed rodents for blood before, but always took only what she needed from humans. She'd never killed a person before.
She felt no remorse about killing Glarthir. At least, that was his name according to his journals in his home. She felt indifference. She felt nothing at all about it, except maybe some twisted satisfaction that she could pull something like that off. That was the cold vampire kicking in.
But what would Living Babette feel about it? Would she regret it? Would Living Babette pretend her vampire years never happened? Would Living Babette still be cold and unfeeling, or was that only Vampire Babette talking, and she'd feel emotion fully after she drank the Witch's potion?
Could she go back to living?
The thoughts did little to lull her to sleep, but by the time the sun rose she slept soundly.
Babette's dreams were often horrid ever since she became a vampire, but after the first few months she got used to them. Nowadays, they only manifested when she was conflicted, like whether she should stay Vampire Babette or Living Babette. She dreamed that Sinderion ran from her, her fangs bared as she tried to suck his blood, one crying of regret and one crying of betrayal in the moonless and lightless night. The thought terrified her, but she saw another sight. She dreamed Sinderion besides her - Living Babette - laughing at the aftermath of some alchemical explosion.
The dreams slowly merged into one. The sky was still dark outside the windows of the dream, but now with stars dotting around the moon. Sinderion did not stop laughing with her, however.. On a closer look, Babette was still a vampire here. Fangs clear as day, eyes glowing with hunger when they didn't close from laughing too hard. She and Sinderion seemed happy here, like her old family. By the Divines, she missed her family.
She woke up with a thought. Was that what she missed about being Living Babette?
"Good kill, I must say. The Bosmer might have hurt other people if you hadn't..." A voice whispered.
Babette immediately snapped out of her contemplation, flexing her claws beneath her blanket and looking for the source of the voice.
"Wh-who's there?!"
"I'm not sure if it's because you're a vampire," A robed figured stepped out of the shadows, well-hidden even to Babette's red eyes. "But you sleep rather soundly for a murderer.
The trip back to the Dawnstar Sanctuary was quiet. She'd found the treasure hunter. It was an easy kill: Activating a Dwemer Centurion and tripping him from the shadows was fun. She usually liked to talk to her victims before a kill, but it was interesting to see how other members would kill. Members like Astrid, on a good day, or Veezara. Veezara would never engage a victim. She missed them. She missed her family. She missed all her families.
The walk took around a day, the same as when she got to Blackreach. Reaching Dawnstar, she entered the hatch that dropped her down into the new sanctuary. She'd seen so many different sanctuaries. She still berated Lucien's ghost about sending her off to Falkreath, not even letting her see the sanctuary in Cyrodiil.
"So you took care of the treasure hunter?"
"Even got his research for the bonus!" Babette beamed, showing her razor-sharp teeth as she waved a journal before placing it on the desk by Nazir.
"Excellent! It's been a busy month, so to top it off I'm making you a recipe from the Gourmet, though I don't know what living fool would use one of these reci- what is that noise?!"
Babette smirked and took the pack off her bag. She emptied the contents on the desk, to Nazir's dismay, filling the table with glowing mushrooms and... crying weeds?
"Mushrooms from Blackreach!" She said proudly. "As well as Crimson Nirnroot!"
"By Sithis, not more Nirnroot! What's with your fascination with it?!"
Babette laughed, picking up a piece of Nirnroot. "Always hated it when I was... apprenticing. It grew on me."
Nazir sighed. "I'm sure Festus would've appreciated these more than I do. As for the contract, I'm more interested in that. What did the Listener say he was marked for...?"
"Synod researcher. Wanted to exploit Skyrim's history for the 'bureaucratic corruption of the magic education system,' according to the Listener.
"Hmph. Beyond my grasp."
"So did the Unliving Child find out why she was chosen specially by our Mother for this mission?!" A voice shrieked. Up the balcony, Cicero leaned on the fence with an oil brush i one hand and his chin in the other. "It's rare that our dearest Mother chooses her children specifically. You must have seen something!"
"Hmm..." Babette threw up her hands. "Not really. Oh well. It was a fun change of pace!"
She started collecting her ingredients, putting them back in her pack, when she saw Nazir move his hand towards a bundle of cloth that fell out. Instinctively, Babette hissed at the Redguard, who quickly retracted his hand.
"Hey hey hey, easy! Just wanted to see what was in the-"
"Falmer leg." She curtly said. "Pungent. I'll experiment with it in private."
Babette stifled a giggle as she saw Nazir and Cicero's odd stares.
"So you're off then?" Sinderion said as they finished their last lesson. It had been 3 years since they'd met, and as expected, the Elf and the Vampire didn't age a bit.
"Y-yeah... Something came up. I have to move to Falkreath."
"Skyrim, huh...?" Sinderion pondered. "It's a very wet region, Falkreath... Good for moist ingredients."
"Yeah..."
The two were quiet as Babette packed. She packed fresh clothes, some food (Both mundane and bloody), and various miscellaneous items. Babette packed her new alchemy things in a seperate bag. A whole miniature setup with some preservable ingredients. It was Sinderion's parting gift, as well as the reason she came to Cyrodiil in the first place.
"I'm... I'm just saving it for after I get there." Babette reasoned to Sinderion. "Skyrim's dangerous, and being a vampire does wonders for your survival."
"Yes, I'm sure it does." Sinderion said, smiling.
It had been a week after her encounter with the Dark Brotherhood. They promised so much for her. They promised that she'd always be appreciated. They promised that she'd never feel alone again. They promised that she'd be important.
They promised she'd have a family.
She'd met a few members, both from her placement in Falkreath and one from an undisclosed location in Cyrodiil. They'd come out to see her like long lost relatives. She loved them. She loved every one of them. Vicente Valtieri knew what it was like to be a vampire, and he told her everything she'd need to know about being a vampire in Falkreath, like a wise grandfather. Antoinette Marie, a Breton like her, was the sweetest person in the world, and in a few short days of their meetings she was like her older sister. Gogron was boisterous and laughed often, like an uncle. All the members she'd met so far made her feel loved. They made her feel wanted, just like Sinderion. Like family.
"So... Why are you moving to Falkreath?"
"Um... Vampire business." She said, giving a cold smile. "You wouldn't understand."
"Babette..."
She sighed. "...Sinderion. Say you have to choose between a new family and an old one. The old one is weird and funny and teaches you things. The old family teaches you so much and makes you feel loved."
"Where is this goi-"
"Sinderion, please." Babette said. "Now say this new family has it all as well. A loving family that welcomes you for your flaws - loves you for them all. They benefit from everything the old family taught you, they would teach you more, and they'll always make you feel loved. You know you belong with them. And you know that the old family and the new family wouldn't get along, and yet they both love you... What would you do?"
Sinderion was silent for a moment, and for that moment Babette felt foolish for asking that at all. She was surprised when Sinderion answered.
"You've lived for little over 100 years, Babette. You're wise enough to know where you belong." Sinderion smiled. "I'm sad to see you go, but as long as you're happy with the new family. You have a life ahead of you now. And even if you don't drink that potion," Babette laughed nervously as he said that. "Then you still have a long eternity ahead of you. You cannot shackle yourself to one man for too long."
"Sinderion..."
He smiled. "You need new experiences, Babette. I've taught you well, and we've gotten you that potion, didn't we? Now, Falkreath's very moist, so I'd shop around for some waterproof boots, as well as an umbrella when it rains. Falkreath is known for its tradition of burying the dead, so grave dirt and bone dust will be readily available if you have no qualms dig-"
Babette knocked the wind out of his gut when she wrapped her arms around him. She could't cry. Not anymore. Her touch was cold and dead. Sinderion could feel no heartbeat from the girl. And yet, Sinderion returned the hug with all the warmth he could give to the vampire.
"I'm going to miss you..." Babette whispered as Sinderion kneeled to her level, ruffling her hair.
"As will I, little vampire."
Her chest was full of mushrooms and nirnoot now. Crimson Nirnroot... Just when you think you couldn't make their favorite ingredient better, they come in blood red now. She sighed as a feeling of nostalgia washed over her.
Babette finally took a deep, cold breath. Placing her pack aside, she took the bundle out and unwrapped it. A skull looked back at her - an Altmer's skull. Sinderion was so driven by his love for alchemy that it lead to his death. Unfortunate, but it's how he'd have wanted to die.
"Don't worry, Sinderion. I'll find a place for you to rest in tomorrow. I'll even get a priest to give you the rites. Believe me, that's hard for a vampire to say." She smiled. It was sincere and happy, but soon it turned questioning and unsure. "I hope you're proud of me. I'm a murderer, yes, but I'm putting my talents to good use like you said. And of course, not for free."
She laughed. It felt cold, like everything did.
"...I have a purpose now. I have a family now. I... I think that's what you'd be happy about. Not the killing part. And though I can't feel anything, I think that's how you would want me to live. With both of those things..." She said. "...Thank you."
Babette placed Sinderion's remains in her chest, besides a potion that could cure vampirism, dusty and unopened for 200 years. She kept the skull with her. It stayed in her arms as she slept that morning, just as the sun started to rise.
"My family..." She murmured, as she drifted off to sleep.