A/n: Yeah I know, my brain is a dark and dirty place, not suitable for those with fairer sensibilities. On that note pass me the brain soap and forgive me.
Aya looked white as a ghost, which was quite the accomplishment for a girl who was normally three shades paler than tree bark. And as Astrid glanced toward her newest recruit she couldn't quite fathom why. Angry they had nearly scarfed her entire cake down in the last twenty minutes? Maybe, but this wasn't the first time Aya had put her ex-head cook skills to use in the brotherhood's kitchen. And Astrid could easily recall no fewer than six other occasions in which the band of merry murderers had fallen upon one of her dishes like a pack of ravenous wolves. So how likely was it that she was angry now?
Astrid supposed it didn't matter, Astrid was in charge of them so it fell to her to comfort the young woman, even if she didn't understand the reason for her flabberghasted expression. She patted the empty bench space next to her with a beckoning hand and a warm smile on her lips.
"There you are, come on and join us for a slice, Aya. Before Veezara over there wolfs down the last one." Astrid was only half joking, the Argonian in question having already devoured three slices and was licking the frosting of the fourth off of his scaled snout.
"Nah that's alright… I seem to have suddenly lost my appetite,"
"You sure tidbit? It was pretty good for something so full of sugar." This from Arnbjorn whose singed beard had grown back in patches and now supported a crumb or two. A sight which brought a chuckle or two from Astrid who sat to his left and took it upon herself to point them out to him.
Was it Aya's imagination or was Astrid being more cheerful than usual? Was Arnbjorn's tone a touch warmer than the one with which he usually spoke?
"Quite sure but thanks… Glad you all liked it I guess." Aya took the seat Astrid had beckoned her to, trying not to fidget guilty little fidgets with her clasped hands.
"You should give me the recipe sometime, wouldn't mind trying my own hand at it," chimed Nazir who was eyeing the same piece that Veezara was guarding with a poised fork.
Aya buried her face in her hands, bare elbows pressing into the rough wood table top. 'Dear Sithis take me now,' she groaned inwardly, wondering what new unwelcomed surprise the evening planned on braining her with. What ever it was, it was surely going to send her to an early dirt nap.
Unawares, the others chewed on, the only one who was in the sanctuary but missing from the dining table being one mad jester. Which suited Aya just fine, if she'd seen his manic smile amid the others her face might have literally burst into flames.
Yes, she had meant the cake for him. She had meant the concoction the others were currently licking of their fingers, for him. But if what the old man had told her was true, and not just a means to part her gold from her, then she really didn't want Cicero to be a part of whatever madness unfolded in the next few moments.
Then again, as she shifted her fingers enough to peer at her family members through the spaces between them, why wasn't it working already?
'It's been at least a half of an hour, shouldn't they be… doing something?' She didn't know whether to be silently praying thanks or vehemently cursing that swindling peddler.
'We can do both, but mostly that last one. Damnedable bastard, who even knows what that stuff he sold us really does? It could be a type of pios...'
The thought finished and Aya's pale visage got an unhealthy dose of green.
With eyes painfully wide and hands shaking she watched the faces around her for the first sign of illness and saw nothing but the usual fare of jokes and stories being exchanged and reacted to. Still that didn't necessarily mean anything, and if something… anything happened to them it would be her fault.
That single realization was the most sobering thing she could have swallowed.
Rising from the table without a sound the young, and occasionally foolish, assassin strode purposefully towards the place where Babbette kept her alchemy equipment. Her singular focus being on brewing as many healing potions as she could… just in case.
Several hours later…
The air in the sanctuary felt ungodly humid, causing Gabriella's sleeping gown to stick to her skin in cumbersome and annoying ways. It seemed as if the air had been steadily growing warmer for the past couple of hours and any attempt she made to get comfortable in her bed was thwarted by the heat. She'd kicked off her blankets ages ago and yet still found no relief. Not from the underside of her pillow, not from the stone wall which she'd pressed herself against, nothing.
Begrudgingly she rose from the straw mattress. Short cropped hair a mess, pulling at the front of her night gown in an attempt to supply her skin with some air she slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her goal? A glass of water and to ensure that the cook fire had been doused fully. On a night this warm having even a low burning fire would only add to what was already unbearable.
However, not even embers glowed from beneath the layer of ash that had been yesterday's fire. But Gabriella was unwilling to try sleep again, the idea of tossing about not a pleasant one. Instead she turned her attention to elsewhere in the sanctuary. Her feet carried her on a meandering path that led to the light still burning from Arnbjorn's forge, having half a mind to ask him to douse it in hopes it would lower the temperature.
But said werewolf was no where in sight.
'Odd….' But judging by the time perhaps not.
What was truly odd was not the absence of a dark brother but rather the presence of one she had not expected. Veezara stood staring off into the fire's depths. Not even a nod to her as she stepped within the circle of orange light. She tentatively touched his shoulder, a quirked brow and sideways mouth marking her curiosity.
"Couldn't sleep," he murmured through thick reptilian lips.
"Me either. It's too bloody hot."
A flicker of slitted eyes reflecting the fire's light that alighted on her face and then briefly on her hand, still fanning the front of her gown.
"Well you do technically have more layers you could shed."
Her hand stopped mid motion, her head cocked quizzically to the side.
"Just stating the obvious dark sister."
Gabriella couldn't argue with that. 'This heat be damned.' She grabbed the skirt of her night gown and hiked it up, shimming out of it and letting it fall to the side.
"Better?" Veezara's voice held no inflection that did not come naturally from his accent. But Gabriella could have swore she'd caught his gaze lingering ever so slightly.
"A little," a shrug rolling through her shoulder. "What about you? Going to tell me you aren't sweltering under all that leather?"
"It takes a lot for me to overheat."
Gabriella supposed that made sense, certainly explained how he could stand so close to the forge. Now that she really looked at him, half swathed in shadows, half brightly shining scales, the Dunmer female wondered why she hadn't realized that fact out on her own. She wasn't really sure, it should have been simple, but her mind felt oddly lethargic. Her thoughts were lazily swimming through her head, drifting like flotsam and foam.
'Swimming, what a wonderful idea.'
"Gabriella…. what exactly are you doing?" Veezara's tongue felt sluggish in his mouth, like he'd been soaking it in brandy for the past week. It didn't want to form words, his lips did not want to form questions. That being said, he still had to wonder why, exactly, his fellow assassin was pressed against his back, diligently undoing each and every one of his armor's buckles.
"You can't swim in armor… so I'm taking it off for you." Her tone was so matter-of-fact. So reasonable sounding.
"I can swim in anything," he countered, unmoving as she slowly stripped his armor off and dropped it besides her discarded night gown. Somewhere along the line her smalls had joined that pile and Veezara couldn't quite recall when that had happened.
"Well come swim in the nude then." She finished tugging the last scrap of his clothing off with a joyous little laugh bubbling from her throat.
He was going to say something. His thoughts, dulled and in disarray, were trying to tell him something. But his physical senses were functioning just fine. And each was delightfully full of nude grey curves gleefully tugging him towards the shallow pool that formed at the base of a small cascade.
'A swim,' Veezara reasoned, 'sounds like a fantastic idea.'
A splash and a giggle, interrupted Nazir's otherwise peaceful book filled evening. Uncommon noises for a cave of cutthroats and unwelcome one's at that as he tried in vain to find his place on the page again. Another slap of flesh against water, another high trilling bout of laughter. Nazir let the leather spine of his book knock against the table.
It was bad enough he'd felt unusually fidgety, not being able to find a comfortable spot in what was normally his favorite seat in the sanctuary. Now this racket, coming from the main room, disturbing his evening yet further. Someone was going to get an earful about all the noise, of that he would make sure.
Up from his chair, down the hall a ways and smack into another warm body.
