Sanguine twisted the knife of the Dark Brotherhood 'Murderer', who's eyes widened and slightly throbbed out of his sockets as he gazed into the face of a blood starved demon.
She was indeed true to her name, her no longer living parents having named her after the Daedric god of passionate hedonism. And she was indeed full of enough bloodlust to make the god laugh at the sight of her. Her face had a fine splatter of freshly poured blood, her mouth twisted in a menacing smile that brought out her normally fair features into a maniacal sneer.
"So, Lucien Lachance sent you to kill me?" Sanguine smirked, too enflamed in the robbing of this man's life to let out any laughter. She just wanted to feel the man squirm under her grasp, her silver dagger slowly being pressed deeper into his stomach. She finally hit his spine, and she paused to admire the ruby liquid that stained the white metal of her blade. "Pity. I was hoping for a challenge." She looked into the failed assassin's face, his expression frozen and suspended in shock from the loss of blood. "May you always walk in the shadow of Sithis, dear Brother." Once she pulled out her blade, she felt the rustle and collapse of his inner cavity and admired the carnage as his organ system poured out of his lower belly.
But it was rather a nuisance, having to leave such a beautiful corpse with its internal paint out in the abandoned campsite for the vultures to devour. She would have rather been attacked in a city. She always did admire the attention the crowds gave to particularly morbid and catastrophic acts she had done.
She looked at her knife carefully, inspecting the glisten of the dark red shine in the pale white moonlight. A sudden craving swept over her, she swallowed the saliva that began to excrete from her mouth and quickly licked the blade, the sharp end nicking her tongue nicely. The coppery taste was surprisingly cold that night, and her peculiar action reminded her of the reason she was at that campsite. She was north of Cheydinhal in the great mountains to admire the Shrine of Azura. The goddess had asked her to slay vampires within a cave. Despite Sanguine's experience in handling those diseased, she chose to decline the offer of the goddess. She was not willing to risk being bitten. She liked the sunlight and the independence that being human provided. Besides her usual bloodlust, if she began craving it on a regular basis, it would greatly interfere with any simple task. And she wished to head south as soon as possible.
What she wanted was nothing more than to return to her homely shack in Bravil and rest for an eternity.
"I see you've failed to disappoint," The rich and dark voice of Lachance echoed off the pure cold. The heavy forecast of grey clouds began to unleash a light powdered snow, which eased the heat of adrenaline that began to pour through Sanguine's veins.
"If only I could say the same for you, Lucien," Sanguine turned to face the robed man, looking at his dark eyes with enough intent and implore to know that he would not dare kill her, just as she knew that if she threw her knife at him or managed to take her bow in time he would vanish into thin air. His methods of discrete approach always held its mystery to her, for he never revealed how easily he could simply slip away. She had always suspected Magicka, or simply a potion, yet she never witnessed him cast or drink when he slipped away. If anything, Lachance's methods were almost cowardice, though she knew from personal experience just how fiery and brave he could be.
"Yes, I find that the Speaker's refusal to allow me to end you to be rather… irrational."
Sanguine let out a smirk, breathing out clouds of moist heat from her mouth. "And I'm sure the Black Hand still suspects me of killing those initiates."
"Your history is evidence enough," Lucien's eyes narrowed but his face still held a scowl of uncertainty. So much history had coursed through their lives, intermingling in a tangled web. It reflected in the way he stood, his hands almost positioned in an uncomfortable stretch as he tensed his gloved hands into fists. The need to resist any urge to lash out or physically contact her was evident.
"Circumstantial, if anything, Lucien." Sanguine slowly breathed deeply and smiled softly. "But I've fared well so far."
"Your luck will run out, Sanguine."
Sanguine swung the dagger into Lucien's direction, throwing it with all her might into his direction. With that exuberant display of emotion, he vanished in black mist, leaving Sanguine to clench her teeth and hiss venomously, "I never needed luck, Lucien."