Chapter 1: A Short Night in Dunwall
Ava clambered out the attic window onto the roof to watch the sunset. She has been obsessed with them for a few weeks now, after witnessing first hand that her roof was the perfect place to watch the sunset. She has tried her neighbours' roof, with Dunwall being a densely packed city, not a difficult feat. She was being very careful not to make any noise, afraid she would get in trouble for trespassing. But her neighbours' roof didn't have the same feel as her own roof, so she abandoned the idea of trying new roofs to gaze from.
She was distracted by the sound of roof shingles being stepped on and turned around. There was a red leather jacketed man with a glowing glove on her rooftop. The Knife of Dunwall. The man looked at her, and the glow of the glove dissipated. From the intensity of his gaze she was sure this would be the last minutes of her life, and turned back to see the sunset for the last time. She was expecting a knife on her throat, a knife on her heart, or a bullet at the back of her head, but none of them came. Once the sun had set, she went back into the house as if nothing had happened.
But her heart pounded like mad and she made tea to calm her nerves. Thank the Outsider her hands wasn't shaking. There's a five thousand coins reward for his head, for murdering the empress and 'other individuals of note' according to the posters. That night she was deprived of sleep by a gust of cold air, blowing through her opened window. It was closed and latched when she went to bed earlier. She groaned as she ambled out of bed to close the window.
"Leave it." A hoarse voice spoke from behind her.
She was stunned in place, her hand awkwardly stuck in mid-air. Her heart pounded as hard as those stomping tall-boys that walked the street, and as fast as the flutters of a butterfly's wings. She didn't know who it is, it could be Daud-the Knife of Dunwall again, or some other street thug, it could be the mysterious masked felon, but she know she only has one way out. She leapt out the window but somehow landed back into her room.
"Witchcraft!" She yelled. She turned around to see who it was, and her first guess was correct. The Knife of Dunwall stood in front of her. They stared at each other in silence. She noted his scarred face, slicked back hair, deeply lined forehead, and his tired eyes.
"Why didn't you run or yell when you see me? Why aren't you running and yelling now? Why haven't you traded my head for coins?" He inquired as he stepped forwards threateningly.
She motioned him to the balcony. "Let's talk outside."
He didn't heed and lets her walk outside alone. He only followed when she sat on the stone balcony, looking in.
"I'm not afraid of death. I was sure you were going to kill me earlier on the rooftop, and I wanted to look at the sunset one last time." She explained. She crossed her arms, regretting her own wishes to be outside. It was a cold night.
The Knife of Dunwall sat beside her, facing the city. "I'm tired of killing."
Ava was so taken aback by his words that she lost her balance for a while, almost dropping down to the city below. She leaned forwards to avoid falling.
"I beg your pardon?" She turned her head to meet the unscarred side of his face. He was looking up at the moon. "Why are you telling me this?" She blurted out. He was a complete stranger, a famous and dangerous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.
"A truth for a truth." He looked down at his own hands. They were silent for a while, listening to the city below them.
"Wish you were tired of killing before you killed the empress." She muttered, offering another truth to be replied to. She saw him glance vehemently, and her short life flashed before her eyes.
But then his expression changed as if he was overcome with grief, and retorted, "I do too. Her hands were all that was holding Dunwall together. With her dead, the city was a fast disintegrating web of guardsmen, Overseers, nobles, weepers…Maybe this was the world the Outsider was trying to show me all along." He took a deep sigh and took out a cigarette and lighter from his inner jacket pocket.
That was a very personal thought. She thought, is he going to jump after he took his last drag of his cigarette? Very likely. He's acting very weird, not that she knew how he behaves normally, just…something is definitely off. One-especially not a famous assassin- does not merely spill their guts out to random strangers unless they're planning something. A suicide, or something, maybe.
"So….. you look like you hadn't slept in a proper bed in a long time, you can take my bed. I can sleep in the guest bedroom." She offered.
The Knife of Dunwall's head turned to her direction so fast she heard his neck crack. His expression was priceless, which was confusion with a hint of disbelief.
"You're mad." He looked back at the moon, and after throwing out what seemed like the longest lasting cigarette, "But I'll take that offer."
"No stealing." She warned as she walked back inside.
"Hey." He called after her when she was halfway out of the room, "We haven't prop-"
She cuts him off, "If you're still here tomorrow morning, we can properly introduce ourselves. Goodnight."
Ava's head thudded and her eyelids felt hot and heavy as she woke up that morning. She peered out the window to see the sun's just about out, and thought she would crept to her bedroom to see if Daud was still there, but she dismissed the idea. She walked downstairs to make tea instead. She heard cluttering, and hinges creaking in the kitchen. Sure enough The Knife of Dunwall was there, opening and closing cupboards, clearly looking for something.
"Where do you keep your tea?" He asked without looking at her.
"I don't keep them in the kitchen. They're in the pantry, one door down." She giggled. "Good morning, Knife of Dunwall. I'm Ava." She burst out laughing after seeing his face.
She made tea for both of them and threw him a jar of biscuits. She didn't know what made her do it, it was so unlike her, but she felt right somehow, throwing him the jar of biscuits.
"Daud." He gave her his hand when they're both seated. She took it with amusement and fascination, they are very rough and calloused, with bumps of healed scars here and there. She liked that he didn't squeeze the life out of her hand, just firm enough to assert dominance. He smiled when she grasped it just as firm.
"Why did you stay, Daud?" She asked with a smirk.
"Wanted to know how it feels to be normal for at least one night."
She nodded, "How's the bed?"
"All right."
She nodded again as she stood up, "Bread and sausage?"
Daud shook his head, "I'd best be leaving. Thankyou for your hospitality."
She nodded for the last time. It wasn't until a few months later that she would nod to that scarred face again.
lmaooo im really into dishonored now, made a few fics but this is the only one that stands out ahaha, part two coming soon i hope