In the gardens of a rather fine house, hidden under the shades of a willow tree, sat a dunmer. Her long, dark hair was tied in a bun. Her face bore no emotions while she slowly raised her hands to her neck, and pulled off her cloak. Under it, she bore dark leather armor, with tons of little markings etched into it. Not from battle, no blade had ever even gotten close to this master of the shadows, but tiny scratches she herself had made. One for each victim. Most were just scratches, actual contracts. Some of them were colored a faint shade of brown, the dried blood of those who had died innocently. She allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips, and the sound drowned in the screech of an owl. Innocence was probably a bad choice of word. E'hla didn't believe in innocence, everyone was just different shades of grey in a colorless world. If anything, she spared those poor souls from the pain of existence, and the pain of living while their friends were dead. So the unconctracted deaths, she simply considered mercy killings. Yet still, she was compelled to wear their blood, so she was forever reminded of her choices.
She looked up, towards the open window in the second floor. Light glowed out of it, and it was almost picturesque. That didn't bother E'hla one bit, because now, the time to act had come. She rose up, and grabbed ahold of the closest branch. She pulled herself up, and continued to climb. Casting a quick feather spell on her feet, she moved out to the very edge of the branch she stood on, now no more than a twig, and flung herself through the window. She rolled, almost soundless, on the floor, and drew her bow. In the corner of her eye, she spotted her target, resting in a chair, half asleep. A familiar, cheesy smell filled the whole house, and E'hla guessed that they were cooking dinner. She sighed, that meant that she would have to use two arrows.
Without another sound, she placed the arrow on the bow, and tugged the string back. She took a deep breath, and suddenly there was no more than exactly what was in the line of the arrow. The gap in the railing of the stairs, the last blink of a wanted man. The tension in the bow was massive, she felt the murder in the power, and her heart filled with pride as she let go. The arrow zipped forward, and she heard the thud of the mers head hitting the wall. She hit him straight in the eye, as she always did. Now to the other person, who she figured would probably be the wife. She stayed where she was, ever silent, ever in the shadows, and waited for her to check on her husband.
"You're in the shadows, by the stairs, aren't you," said a soft voice from below her, and E'hla blinked. The wife must be standing in the first floor, but out of her line of sight. She groaned. The voice continued, "I guess you've already got another arrow ready for me. But I was not born yesterday, I won't take another step forward, so if you want to kill me, you'll have to step down into the light,"
The woman was right, E'hla realized. She was more or less defeated. She could run, but that would mean that her streak of never been seen or heard had ended. Her pride wouldn't allow that, so she did as the wife wanted. All the time while walking down, she kept her bow on the ready, and the arrow pointed towards where she guessed the woman was.
"You don't have to kill me, you know," said the wife, and E'hla sneered back, now finally out of her safe harbor of shadow, "Why should I keep you alive?"
The wife shrugged, and as she lowered her shoulders, her blood red curls fell down, "I guess because the death of two people is more suspicious than the death of one. I know that you're from the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, and I suppose you don't want any attention drawn to murders here. Nothing to lead Adamus Philida here," E'hla tensed, "How do you know about the sanctuary?" The wife laughed, "Oh please, I saw the door in the cellar of the abandoned shack. As I've said before, I wasn't born yesterday. You're not exactly discreet. Now, I can also offer you to help you carry my husband's corpse up the stairs, and put him in his bed. So please, lower the arrow," E'hla guessed there was no harm in letting the widow live longer, it did only benefit her. Yet, she kept her eye out for sudden daggers to the back.
While carrying the corpse up, the question at the tip of the dark-haired females tongue slipped, "Why aren't you more upset about your husband's death?" The widow smiled, "Oh, he died for me many years before you arrived. He started drinking heavily after his last adventure. If I was lucky, I'd get a beating from him reasons I've never understood, but mostly, he just never showed any feelings. He was indifferent, and dead inside," a certain sorrow filled her throat, and she grew silent as the two females let the corpse fall down into the bed. E'hla gently pulled the arrow out, cleanly. The widow stroked his hair back, and started buttoning up his clothes, "Once, he was a bravest, most intelligent man I knew. I've grown used to missing him,"
E'hla helped her pull up the duvets, and a solemn smile ran across the wife's face, "Join me for dinner. I've already prepared it for two, and one should never let scuttle go to waste,"
The assassin warmed up to the widow, who she now knew as Daynillo. Talking to her was easy, and the food she had made tasted great. For once, E'hla felt completely normal, and it was the strangest feeling ever. Life for her had always been murder and sinister rituals, and she had been happy with it, but there was something fine in evading it. Pretending she was a casual person for once.
"If you ever need a place to stay, to just be another dunmer, you can always come here, " said Daynillo, raising a fork to her mouth, "I can say that you're my cousin, visiting from Anvil," E'hla raised an eyebrow, "You're offering me a place to stay, after I killed your husband?" The redhead nodded, "I've needed someone to talk to. The others just never dared, because all they saw were my bruised eye, and so all they felt was pity. It's nice to escape the look that people give you," E'hla nodded back, in agreement.