Chapter 4: Sanctuary
There's a lot about Skyrim that Lumen doesn't like, but she loves the night sky. The stars are so crisp and bright, and while Masser and Secunda are just as brilliant in Skyrim as they are in Cyrodiil, they are made even more beautiful by the aurora blazing beneath them. Lumen is often distracted by the sky when she travels at night, but tonight she can allow it. Traveling with two Dark Brotherhood assassins and their daedric horse certainly has it's perks.
At first Lumen had been hesitant to ride on the horse with Astrid. She's comfortable with horses but she'd never been around one with glowing, red eyes before. But with a little persuasion from Astrid, and some growling from Arnbjorn, she finally relented.
"All right, tidbit. Now that we're friends, I've got a few questions of my own to ask." Arnbjorn sounds anything but friendly, and even from her high vantage on Shadowmere, he still looks menacing. He doesn't wait for Lumen to agree to answer any questions when he asks, "Mind telling me what exactly happened to you after your Thalmor friends killed that dragon?"
Lumen narrows her eyes, "How much of that fight did you see?" She had been afraid of this, and she hopes her little Dragonborn problem won't be a problem for the Brotherhood.
"I saw enough," he tells her, and from the way Astrid is glancing back at her, it's obvious she's eager for an answer as well.
"Um, well-" she sighs, wondering if they will believe her at all when she tells them. "I'm the Dragonborn, supposedly."
"There's been a rumor of a Bosmer Dragonborn floating around," Arnbjorn says, turning away from her to watch the road ahead of them. "If I hadn't seen you take that dragon's soul, I wouldn't believe you."
Lumen bites back a groan, if she'd never helped those Whiterun guards fight that stupid dragon - no, she can't even blame it on them. It is entirely her fault. She had hoped to earn a reward in the form of gold, and lots of it, from the Jarl. But instead she earned a title and a housecarl, Lydia, whom she left back in Whiterun. Lumen didn't want to be a thane, and she definitely never wanted to be a hero. Though, at first she enjoyed training with the Greybeards and helping Delphine. Friends had always been in short supply for her, and it figures that just when she was starting to regard Delphine as a friend, the Breton starts spewing crazy at her.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Lumen asks.
Astrid shrugs. "I only expect you to complete your contracts. What you do on your own time is your business. Though, I admit, I was raised on tales of the Dragonborn as a child and-"
"I'm not what you expected," Lumen snorts. "I get that a lot."
"I mean no offense," Astrid says hastily.
"None taken," Lumen smiles, even though the Nord can't see it, "Not to change the subject but I was promised an answer to my question about the Black Sacrament."
Astrid laughs, "All right, but first tell me how much you know of the Dark Brotherhood."
"I was raised in Cyrodiil, so... I heard about the destruction of the sanctuaries, and the Night Mother's crypt in Bravil. The Dark Brotherhood was all anyone could talk about after that happened, so I overheard some things. I heard the Night Mother was the wife of Sithis and that the Brotherhood were followers of Sithis." Lumen explains, then adds, "Which is why I thought the Dark Brotherhood was a religious cult."
"I see," Astrid nods, "Well, the Black Sacrament is a ritual performed when a prospective client wishes to have someone killed. Think of it as a prayer to the Night Mother."
"So what happens after the ritual is performed? Does the Night Mother tell you?"
"Oh, she doesn't tell me," Astrid says, amusement creeping into her voice, "She tells the Listener, who is the only person to hear the Night Mother speak. But there hasn't been a Listener in many, many years."
"If there's no Listener, then how do you know when the Black Sacrament has been performed?"
Astrid glances over her shoulder at Lumen, a smile on her lips, "I have a pair of eyes and ears stationed in each city and in a few of the smaller villages all over Skyrim. If someone performs the Black Sacrament, we find out eventually."
They reach the sanctuary as the first golden rays of dawn flood across the sky and burn away the early morning fog. The entrance is tucked away in a rocky niche, and an ominous black door is all that stands between Lumen and her new home.
"And here we are," Astrid motions toward the door, "Do you remember the passphrase?"
"Yes," Lumen answers and steps forward.
"What is the music of life?"
Lumen tries her level best to ignore the chill that runs down her spine at the sound of that eerie, hissing voice, and her own voice quavers slightly when she gives the answer. "Silence, my brother."
Arnbjorn barks a laugh. "The mighty Dragonborn... Afraid of an enchanted door."
"Arn," Astrid warns him, but she's smiling too.
Lumen sighs, ducking inside the sanctuary when the door swings open and welcomes the three assassins home. Once inside, Arnbjorn vanishes down a stone staircase and Astrid hands Lumen a bundle of neatly folded, leather armor. "The armor of a Dark Brotherhood assassin. May it serve you well, sister."
"Thank you, Astrid. It's lovely," Lumen runs a hand over the smooth, oiled leather. It's the most well made armor she ever seen, and the red glimmer that flickers across the surface indicates that not only is it exquisitely made, but enchanted as well.
"Come on, I'll show you were you'll be sleeping, and then perhaps you'd like to try your armor on? You might need a little help at first, all the straps and snaps can be a bit fiddly," says Astrid, beckoning her to follow her down into the main chamber of the sanctuary.
Lumen is led to a large room outfitted with a forge and a small training area. The air is humid and cool due to the small waterfall that drains into a natural pool, above which a stained glass effigy of Sithis is placed in the stone. She notices a word wall at the far end of the room and she is hit with a faint, unfamiliar feeling of guilt. The sight of the Dovahzul etched into the stone reminds her of Delphine and Lumen wonders if she's still waiting for her, or if she found some other fool to do her dirty work.
Lumen approaches the wall, unable to ignore the way it tugs at her soul. Astrid watches her with unhidden curiosity, but says nothing when Lumen steps away from the wall to resume their tour of the sanctuary.
Astrid shows her to a room with multiple beds and storage chests, and to a previously unclaimed bed. "I hope you don't mind sharing a room."
"It's not a problem. I'm just grateful to have a place to sleep," Lumen says truthfully, placing her meager belongings in the chest at the end of her bed. A bowl of cold water and a cloth are placed on the nightstand, and Astrid gives her some privacy so that she can wash herself and change into clean underclothes before trying her new armor on.
Her old, filthy armor is piled on the floor, and she's not sure if she should attempt to clean it or just burn it at this point. It's covered in scorch marks and dried Altmer blood, although, that might be reason enough to keep it around.
Astrid returns to the room and helps Lumen into her shrouded armor, which is surprisingly tight, almost to the point of discomfort. "Astrid," says Lumen, her voice strained, "Is it supposed to be this tight? I feel like I'm going to split the rear if I try to sit down."
The pretty Nord laughs at her, "That's normal, the leather will stretch the more you wear it."
"I don't mean to complain, I'm just not used to such tight-fitting gear." Lumen smiles as she looks down at herself, thoroughly enjoying the warm hum of the enchantments against her skin.
"Don't worry about it." Astrid inhales deeply, the scent of food cooking in the kitchen below wafting up to the sleeping area. "Let's get some breakfast and introduce you to the rest of the family. Oh, and don't forget to speak to Nazir for your first set of contracts."
The two women descend the rickety, wood staircase and enter the kitchen, where the rest of the family is already gathered around a long table in the center of the room. There is a place set for each chair, even though there are far more empty chairs than filled ones, and Lumen wonders if they are set for fallen family members. She didn't think a group of assassins would be very sentimental, but Astrid puts so much emphasis on the whole family thing, so perhaps they are.
She is greeted warmly by most of her new family, even though Nazir isn't interested in getting to know her until she's proven herself, and Festus Krex seems genuinely put-out that he has another name to remember. At least Gabriella, Babette and Veezara are happy to see a new addition to the family.
Lumen settles into a chair near Gabriella and helps herself to a breakfast of soft-boiled eggs and sausage, the various conversations around the table fading into nothing as the rest of the family does the same. After a few minutes, Gabriella's voice breaks the silence. "Astrid," she begins. "Babette told me you received another letter from the Keeper."
Astrid nods. "I did, just before I left, actually. He's in Skyrim and should be arriving very soon."
"We've heard that before. I thought he was supposed to be here months ago," Gabriella says as she rests her chin on her hands. "What could have possibly delayed him?"
"I have no idea," Astrid answers with a shrug. "He didn't say."
"What do we know about this Keeper, anyway?" Babette asks, idly twirling a butter knife between her short, but surprisingly dexterous fingers.
"Not much at all. But there's only so much he can put in a letter," Astrid admits.
The conversation dwindles, and after a moment Lumen asks, "What's a Keeper?"
"The Keeper is an assassin who's been tasked with the care of the Night Mother's remains," Astrid tells her.
"Wait- her crypt was destroyed and, well... I heard she was destroyed along with it," Lumen says.
Lumen expects an answer from Astrid, but it's Gabriella who speaks instead. "That's just a rumor started by the Thalmor. The Night Mother was moved to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary in Cheydinhal."
"And now she's coming here," Astrid says with a sigh, placing her fork on her empty plate. "After how many years? I'm surprised the Keeper didn't come sooner, but now I wonder why he's bothering at all."
"We're the last sanctuary in Tamriel, so I guess it makes sense to bring her here," says Festus. "Do you think the Keeper is hoping to find the Listener?"
Astrid scoffs, not bothering to hide her scorn. "We don't need a Listener."
"Well I know that," Festus says quickly. "But the Keeper doesn't."
"He'll learn, then," Astrid's tone nothing short of dangerous, and the group seemed to silently agree to drop the subject of Keepers and Listeners. Lumen is still brimming with questions but she is content to let the subject drop for now. At the moment, all she wants is a few hours of sleep, and with her breakfast finished, she excuses herself from the table to do just that.
Three days have passed since Lumen was welcomed into the Dark Brotherhood.
She obtained three contracts from Nazir and quickly left the sanctuary to complete them. Nazir told her there was no time limit, and that the contracts could be completed at her leisure but Lumen has nothing better to do, and she is in desperate need of gold.
The first contract had been for a beggar, Narfi, and he died quickly with the blade of Lumen's dagger buried deep in his ribcage. It was an unsatisfying kill. The man didn't even try to fight back and she had decided then and there to kill him quickly and get it over with if he wasn't going to make it fun for her.
Beitild, the second contract, had been an entirely different story. The woman was foul-tempered and a fighter until the end - just as Nazir promised she would be. Lumen followed her into that mine she was so proud of and proceeded to smash her head in with a pickaxe until there was more of her brain on the walls than in her skull.
That had been a satisfying kill.
Now Lumen crouches behind a boulder and waits for the right moment to kill Ennodius Papius. The man is beyond paranoid; constantly looking over his shoulder and muttering to himself. More than once Lumen sees him grasping at the dagger strapped to his hip for reassurance. She knows she could take him in a fight, but there is a wood mill not too far from his campsite and she doesn't want to attract any unwanted attention. A quiet kill is the best option.
When Ennodius walks to the lakeside to relieve himself, Lumen moves from where she's hiding and quietly steps across the rocks. This is a dangerous place to make camp, the rocks are slick from the spray of the nearby waterfall and it would be all too easy to slip and fall. Her steps are slow and careful even though her hands are shaking in anticipation of a kill. But what she doesn't anticipate is a loud crunch beneath her foot.
Ennodius gasps and whirls around, scrambling to tuck himself back into his pants, "Who- Who are you?"
"Well, shit," Lumen shakes the gooey mudcrab guts from her boot. "So much for being sneaky," she thinks as she advances on Ennodius, not bothering to answer his question.
"Oh no... You're with the Dark Brotherhood, ain'tcha? I knew it... I knew it!" He tries to run, but the rocks beneath his feet are slippery and Ennodius loses his balance. He flings his arms out in a vain attempt to steady himself, and Lumen watches, dumbfounded, as the man's foot flies out from under him and he falls, cracking his head against the rocks.
"You've got to be kidding me," she mutters to herself, walking over to Ennodius' silent form and kneeling beside him. "Still breathing, but-" she tilts his head to inspect the wound which is bleeding profusely, "No need to let you suffer, right?" Lumen rolls Ennodius over and holds his head beneath the water, humming cheerfully as the man's body spasms, and finally stills. Satisfied with her work, she strips the camp of anything useful and heads down the road that will take her home.
Lumen arrives at the sanctuary shortly before nightfall, tired from her travels but feeling exceptionally pleased with herself. She's just completed three Dark Brotherhood contracts in the span of a week, and she'd done so without being seen. But just because she was proud of herself didn't mean Nazir would be, even though she did hope to gain the Redguard's approval eventually.
She finds Nazir lingering in the front room, poking through a stack of books on Astrid's desk. "Ah, Nazir. Just the man I wanted to see," Lumen says as she approaches him.
"People only say that to me when they want money," Nazir says shortly, not bothering to look at her as he pulls a book free from the stack.
Lumen grins at him. "If it makes you feel better, that's all I want from anyone."
"Well your honesty is refreshing, I'll give you that." He turns to face her, "I heard about Narfi – a knife to the heart, how innovative."
Her grin does not falter at his insulting tone, and Nazir continues, "However, the rumor I heard involving Beitild is far more interesting. I understand her mine has a new paint job," he laughs. "And what of Ennodius? My contacts are good but I daresay news of his demise hasn't reached me."
"Dead," she says, then, sensing Nazir wants more details than that, she continues. "He slipped on some rocks near the water and cracked his head. I think he would've died from the hit to the head, but I drowned him in the lake."
Nazir nods, apparently satisfied and he pulls a large coin purse from his pocket, "Well done. Maybe you're not as worthless as I thought," he says as he hands the coin purse to her.
"Thanks, I think." Lumen slips the purse into the pouch at her hip, "Do you have any more contracts for me?"
"Astrid has a job for you, actually. She's up in the chapel helping the Keeper get settled," Nazir says with a pained sigh. "He arrived earlier today."
"You seem thrilled," Lumen says, her voice deadpan. "What's wrong? Is he an asshole or something?"
"No, he's incredibly polite," Nazir folds his arms. "I'm not thrilled about having the corpse of an old woman here, even though I suppose I can make an exception for the Night Mother. But her Keeper- ugh," He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I really hate jesters."
"Wait- what? A jester?" The only jester Lumen has seen since she left Cyrodiil is Cicero, and didn't he say he was taking his mother's corpse to a new home? What if that corpse wasn't his mother, but the Night Mother? It can't be a coincidence...
"Go see for yourself." Nazir says, tucking a book under his arm and wandering off in search of a quiet place to read.
Lumen hurries through the sanctuary, curious to see if this jester is who she thinks he is. The chapel doors are wide open and when Lumen peers inside she is greeted by the sight of Cicero yanking a crowbar from Arnbjorn's hands, which the Nord releases with little resistance. He is eager to get away from Cicero, even at the cost of one of his precious tools.
"Cicero thanks you for your help, but he can take it from here."
Astrid clears her throat. "As I was saying, you and the Night Mother are welcome here, and you will be given the respect deserving of your position as Keeper," she says, sounding as calm and controlled as she always does. "But remember that this is my sanctuary and I make the rules... Are we clear?"
"Oh, yes! Crystal clear, mistress," Cicero purrs, turning around to pry the crate apart. "You're the boss."
Astrid rolls her eyes and steps into the hallway, the frown on her face fading away when she notices Lumen. "Welcome home, sister. I hope your contracts went well."
"Of course they went well, did you ever have any doubt?" Lumen says with a grin. "Nazir said you have a job for me."
"I do, rather more interesting than the jobs you did for him, I think." Astrid tells her, pausing for only a moment to watch Arnbjorn as he passes by, grumbling to himself and making a bee-line to his forge. "You are to go to Markarth and speak to Muiri. She works at the Hag's Cure, but she can be found at the Silver Blood Inn at night. The girl wants an ex-lover killed. So go talk to her, set up the contract and carry it out."
"Simple enough, anything else I should know?" Lumen asks, desperately trying to concentrate on what Astrid is telling her, but that's incredibly difficult when there's a jester in the adjoining room singing a macabre tune.
"Just be professional and represent your family well. Since this is your first official contract, I'll let you keep the entire payment." Astrid smiles at her and adds, "She'll be generous, they always are."
Astrid walks past her, and Lumen steps into the chapel were Cicero is carefully prying the wood crate apart. He looks over his shoulder when he hears her enter the room, "Ah, another member of the family- Oh! Wait!" He turns to face her, and his smile brightens. "I remember you! From the road, yes- Cicero never forgets a face."
Before Lumen can properly greet him, Cicero has dropped the crowbar to the floor and is skipping toward her. "Does Lumen remember poor, helpless Cicero?"
She can't help but smile at him. "Of course. You're- uh, pretty memorable."
"Oh sister you flatter me," his voice trails off into a giggle and he looks away as if embarrassed. Lumen can't decide if it's endearing or just plain creepy to see a grown man behave this way, so she settles on endearingly creepy - a fitting description as any for Cicero.
Cicero turns back to her, smiling, "You made poor Cicero so happy when you stopped to help him, and surely Mother is happy with you as well."
Lumen's glances at the remnants of the crate, and the dusty, stone coffin inside. "So that's... The Night Mother?"
"Oh, you are silly," Cicero says with a laugh. "That's a crate."
A small laugh escapes her. "I know that. I meant that's her- in the coffin."
"Well of course she's in the coffin, where else would a dead woman be?" Cicero asks, raising his brows in question.
Lumen notices that his eyebrows are perfectly plucked and shaped. "Imperials," she thinks with some amusement, and then says, "I guess you have a point, there."
Cicero gestures to his cap. "Two points, actually."
"Stop that," Lumen says, biting her lip and trying not to laugh again.
Cicero's eyes are sparkling with mischief. "Stop what, sister?"
"Nothing- never mind," Lumen waves her hand in the air, dismissing the subject. No reason to call Cicero out when he behaves like a fool, is there? "I'm going to rest and uh, just let you and the Night Mother get settled."
"Cicero would like to rest too. But Cicero must tend to mother, it has been too long since her last oiling," he says with no small amount of delight.
Lumen stares at him, only realizing too late that her mouth is hanging open in surprise. "Why do you oil her?" she asks, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
"To keep Mother preserved, of course," he explains, picking up the crowbar from the floor and twirling it in his hands. "Rest well, sister." He turns away from her to resume his work, not noticing - or not caring - about the revulsion on Lumen's face and in her voice.
Lumen spares Cicero and the coffin one last look before she leaves the chapel.
There is a voice humming in the darkness, and though it is unfamiliar, there is only one name Lumen can give it - Mother. Only a mother could sing a song sweeter than any summer-ripened fruit, a song that carries the promise of undying love. Only a mother could possess such gentle fingers, delicate and graceful as they comb through Lumen's hair and down the nape of her neck. But only a corpse could have fingertips as hard as cured leather and as cold as the grave.
Lumen jolts awake.
She sits up in her bed and roughly scratches at her scalp, desperate to erase the sensation of dead fingers in her hair. Pushing the furs away from her body, and careful not to knock an empty wine bottle to the floor, she crawls from her bed. The light in the sleeping area is too low to see properly, but she can hear gentle puffs of breaths and the occasional snore drifting from the occupied beds in the room. Most of the family is still asleep, and judging by the cooling embers in the braziers, dawn is only a few hours away. No sense in going back to sleep, not that she could after a dream like that.
Lumen dresses in near silence, pulling a thin, white tunic over her head and then stepping into a pair of soft, doeskin breeches. A chill courses through her and she steps out into the hallway as quietly as she can, not wanting to disturb anyone, or speak to anyone for that matter. Not until she can shake this hangover, anyway. But the numbness creeping its way into her toes and the tips of her ears is a more pressing matter, and she hopes to warm herself by the fires of Arnbjorn's forge. But as she makes her way down the hall, she slows to a stop as she nears the chapel doors.
Lumen places her ear against the door. There are no sounds coming from the room, which isn't surprising considering the late hour. Cicero is probably asleep like the rest of her family, save for Babette, who is nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps she is still a little drunk from the wine she had before bed, but she wants to see the Night Mother. She wants to know what is so special about this old corpse that would inspire such devotion from her Keeper. Spurred by curiosity, and perhaps a dash of lunacy, she pushes the chapel door open and slips inside.
The chapel is lit by the candles that surround the Night Mother's sealed coffin, and by the firelight from the main room filtering through the stained glass. The polished, stone coffin glows like a beacon, reflecting the flickering light and shrouded in a sanguine halo from behind. It's as if Sithis is embracing his wife, and for a brief moment Lumen feels like she's intruded on something intimate, something not meant for their children's eyes.
"Ridiculous," she thinks. "I'm going to be as crazy as Cicero if I keep thinking like that."
Lumen walks down the aisle between the stone benches and closer to her quarry, her feet disturbing the nightshade petals that have been scattered across the floor. The room grows warmer with each step she takes toward the Night Mother's coffin, and there is a rush of ambient noise in her ears, loud enough to drown out the sound of her own heartbeat. Lumen knows she should be concerned but she can't find it in her to care. She doesn't care about anything; she is so warm and so loved that nothing else matters. All she cares about is the gentle whispers in her ears and the ethereal arms wrapping her in a tender embrace.
Soon child. Soon... But not yet...
That voice. That very same voice from when she met Cicero on the road, but at least this time Lumen understands what the source is - The Night Mother. She decides then that she has either gone completely mad, or the Night Mother really is speaking to her. Lumen has no time to consider what that might mean, because the once-loving embrace shifts into a painful vise as solid, real arms trap her own against her body. She is hauled away from the coffin and the gentle whispers in her ears are replaced by the frantic mutterings of the Night Mother's Keeper.
"No, no, no- Cicero knew better than to come here. Knew better. Mother was safe. Safe from you and safe from her. We should have stayed!" Cicero drags Lumen down the aisle, scattering nightshade petals in their wake, and she struggles to keep her feet moving so her bare heels don't scrape across the floor.
"Let me go!" She demands, knowing it won't do her any good, but she is not one to give up without a fight. "Now, Cicero."
"You," the sound is closer to a snarl rather than speech. "She sent you to disrespect our matron, didn't she?"
"I came on my own," Lumen snaps, her voice strained due to Cicero's crushing embrace. The motley he wears is overly large, bagging on his frame and effectively hiding his muscles. She never guessed Cicero would be this strong. This hurts-
Recognizing the distress in her voice, he loosens his grip on her only enough to afford her a little comfort, but no means of escape."To what end, sister?" he asks.
"I..." Lumen hesitates. Her natural inclination is to lie, but a lie might agitate him more than the truth at this point. "I just wanted to see what she looks like."
Cicero rests his chin against the top of Lumen's head, his breath tickling her scalp. "You know, if this were a proper sanctuary Cicero would have the authority to punish you," he says, his voice dripping with pleasure. "A whipping, or, oooh- a flaying. Ah, but Astrid would likely feed me to her dog if I were to take matters into my own hands, wouldn't she?"
Astrid might, though Lumen doubts that threat is enough to stop Cicero. No- if he truly wanted to punish her, he would. "Cicero, I meant no disrespect to the Night Mother. I just wanted to see her."
To Lumen's surprise, his hold on her eases and she is able to slide free of his arms. She whirls around to face him, and the smile on his face does little to comfort her. He reminds her of a wolf that's finally cornered a rabbit, white teeth bared in a feral grin, amber eyes gleaming. "Did you ever hear the story of the curious Khajiit, sister?" He asks, his voice a silky purr.
Lumen nods, and Cicero's grin does not waver, "Then you know what happened to him."
She laughs then, quiet and humorless. "Is that a threat?"
Seconds pass them by as they hold each other's gaze, both challenging and unwilling to back down. That is, until Cicero sighs and in a voice more tired and worn than Lumen expects to hear he says, "Forgive me- it's been a long time since I have shared Mother's presence with anyone," and to his credit, he does look suitably guilty.
She nods, satisfied by his apology. "What about the other assassins? In Cyrodiil- You had to share the Night Mother with them, right?"
"Yes, at one point," he says quietly, "But Cicero has been alone for so very long."
Lumen wonders how long, exactly. But the faraway look in his eyes tells her she's better off not asking, it's likely not something Cicero wants to talk about, and she can appreciate that. Instead, her mouth quirks into a lop-sided grin as she watches him. His wide eyes and the slight tremor in his hands reminds her of those yappy dogs the noble women often carry around the Imperial City. Small, excitable, and ready to draw blood at a moment's notice.
Encouraged by her smile, Cicero closes the distance between them. Lumen tenses as he nears, expecting to be attacked, but instead he places his hands on her shoulders. "But Cicero is not alone anymore, is he? He has a new family and he has you. Sweet, kind Lumen."
No one has ever accused Lumen of being sweet or kind, and it's fitting that the only person to do so is an insane, violent, little man in a jester costume.
"Er, Lumen- you're bleeding."
"What?" Lumen asks, making no effort to mask her surprise. "Where?"
"Here," Cicero says, moving his hand from her shoulder and slowly dragging his thumb beneath the swell of her lower lip, wiping away a small drop of blood. Lumen flinches away from his touch, but he doesn't seem to notice as his attention is focused on the blood smeared across the pad of his thumb. Finally, his eyes flick up to meet hers and Lumen gives in to an involuntary shiver. She would know that dark, hungry look anywhere. It's often what her victims saw in her own eyes before she stabbed the life out of them.
Lumen brings her fingers to her mouth to wipe away the last remnants of blood. "My last two contracts were in the Pale. The chapped lips are just a bonus, I guess," she says, trying to keep her tone light, because the air in the room is too heavy, and Cicero's stare too intense for her liking. His eyes remain fixated on hers for a heartbeat too long, then his mouth twists into a grin and he turns away from her.
"So, I-" Lumen's words fade away as Cicero's lips close around the tip of his thumb, and he slowly sucks her blood from his skin. It's not a careless motion, like the way one might wet their thumb to turn a page in an old book. This is something else entirely, and the tiny hairs along the nape of her neck rise at the sight before her. There is overt pleasure in every movement; the flutter of his lashes at the first taste, and the way he slowly draws his lips away, tongue still working inside his mouth as if to savor the last remnants of flavor before it dissolves to nothing.
Cicero turns his gaze back to her, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Were you going to say something?" He asks, his tone is maniacally cheerful, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Lumen opens her mouth, then closes it, utterly at a loss for words. She squeezes her eyes shut, drawing in a shuddering breath and finally says, "I- I need to go." Her exit from the chapel is swift and graceless; stumbling over her own feet as she fights the desire to run half-dressed from the sanctuary and into the cold, sobering pre-dawn air.
What in the Void just happened back there? The fool is threatening her one minute and the next he's rendering her speechless with one, small motion. She knows she should be angry with him for attacking her and for threatening her, and some part of her still is. But- She likes what she saw, though she doesn't know why. She only knows that Cicero went from being a mild curiosity to downright fascinating in the span of a heartbeat.
Watching him kill must be marvelous...
"Void take me if I start mooning over a fucking jester," Lumen mutters to herself as she tugs her shrouded armor on.
Once she's properly armored and packed, she leaves the sanctuary. She is eager to distract herself with a contract and to forget about strange voices in her head, and strange jesters that stir even stranger desires. Well- maybe she doesn't want to forget about that last part, but she definitely needs time to think about it.
A/N: I want to thank Heiwako for her feedback on this chapter. As well as timeywimeyspaceywacey for her feedback and help with my punctuation booboo's. :3
I also want to thank Jonathan Is Epic, Myengun, and Night Mother for the reviews!
I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.