Hear no Evil
She prayed. Prayed a lot. She couldn't hear their incantations, couldn't hear the power in their voices when they spoke their prayers to the Nine, but she recognized it. She knew the feeling well. Lilith didn't have to hear their voices to worship, didn't have to speak for her prayers to be heard. She loved and honored the Nine, particularly Stendarr, god of Mercy. He was her patron god. It was he who loved her above all others, he who was merciful despite her ailment. She was deaf, and would forever remain so, but she found acceptance in Stendarr where in others she had not.
Lilith watched as the others began to go to citizens, and she knew it was time for her to return to her books. She was the designated book keeper of the chapel because it didn't require her to speak to the others or listen to them. She could read their lips, of course, but it was difficult to counsel someone regardless. So with her books she stayed, and that was all she had known until someone new had arrived to the chapel.
His name, as she learned, was Martin. He was only a teenager, maybe a year younger than herself, and was reckless and wild. He came searching for confession and counsel, but what he really wanted was for someone to listen. Somehow, he found someone able to do so in her.
He knew she couldn't hear his voice, knew she couldn't return the favor and speak, and that's just what he wanted. Instead of telling her by word of mouth, he wrote her letters. Everyday he did so, and he told her of what he did. She would have seven letters by the end of the week, and would write him one in return.
In those letters she didn't tell him what he should do, what was his duty. She didn't tell him that it was wrong. She told him about her day. It was much of the same thing, of course, but he liked that. He didn't want someone telling him he was doing something wrong, didn't want someone telling him what he should be doing. Not without his asking, at least.
For months they corresponded, and no matter what happened during that week, she knew she could expect letters from Martin. In the back of her mind she was quickly falling in love with him, but she wondered if it was Martin the man, or the Martin on paper, that she was falling for. He was so strong and brave, and though she knew he was dabbling in sin, she still loved him. Lilith prayed for him daily, hoping that one day he might turn away from Sanguine, and that she could welcome him to glorious light with open arms. Whenever that day might be, she prayed for it every day.
Then, one day, everything changed. He came to her, excited. There was a joyous glint in his eye and alcohol on his breath, but Lilith trusted him. Above everyone, she trusted him.
"Come," he said. "I have a surprise for you. In thanks, I guess, for listening to me. Will you come?" Lilith nodded. She loved him- trusted him. He wouldn't harm her. She knew he wouldn't.
Martin led Lilith by the hand to the stables, and it was clear he was leading her out of Chorrol. She's only been out of the city a few times, and never without another priest or priestess. Lilith pursed her lips. She trusted Martin. He wouldn't harm her... would he?
They rode on horseback for a while, resting during the night, until he brought her to the Shrine of Sanguine. She gasped, seeing the monument of a Deadric lord. Martin's Deadric lord. She glanced at him, questioning in his eyes.
"He said he'll help you," Martin explained. "He said he'll grant you the ability to hear, so long as you serve him." She read his lips in horror. He... he wanted her to serve Sanguine? Would she? She so longed to hear his voice, to speak, to listen to the birds and the rustling of the wind- everything. But would she trade of her life, just for that? She's managed to live so far, she didn't truly need it, but... Lilith glanced at Martin and gave him a nod. She would. For him, she would.
Guilt filled her when she realized she was abandoning Stendarr, hoping he would understand. He was the god of Mercy... he had to.
"Lilith, love..." Martin said. She couldn't hear him still. "Just... do as I ask, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise." He took her hand and slowly removed her robes. Sanguine's followers circled her, naked. They glistened with sweat and a heavy, musky scent. It was intoxicating, an aroma she was unfamiliar with. They led her into a blanket of passion and erotic behavior she had never known before, had never even heard of. Joined with many and joined with only one, she cried out for the first time and heard her own voice. Martin took a silver blad and sliced across her arms, assuring her it was a part of the initiation process.
His voice was heavenly. Like rich, decadent chocolate, or silk gliding across heavy velvet. It was husky, alluring, and she couldn't get enough of it. "Talk to me, Martin," Lilith croaked. "Speak to me." And he did.
He spoke to her, apologies and sweet nothings, slurred together in their passion. In the haze only some of it registered, but not the actual meaning. She could hear their breathing, their hearts beating together in perfect harmony. She could hear the moans of the others around her, listened to Sanguine's laugh of pleasure. She heard the crickets chirping, the wind slowly teasing the blades of grass... everything.
And then, as soon as it happened, it was gone. Her life slipped from her in red, heavy ribbons as she slowly dropped to the ground. Above her, Lilith watched as Martin left her.
She never heard his apology. She never heard anything again.
Stendarr, have mercy.