Fredas, 7th of Morning Star, 4E 180
Falkreath hold's fog did nothing to improve Jo'Kaasi's mood. After he lost the guards in Dawnstar, he had stolen a horse that was heavily opposed to the change in ownership. To make matters worse, a storm hit near Whiterun that had soaked him to his bones. His cloak was ruined from all of the water, and his fur smelled like wet rugs. Arnbjorn is never going to let me live this down, he thought bitterly as he entered the Sanctuary. All he wanted to do was give Mother as little details about the contract as possible, and go to sleep. Maybe Gabriella will have something to get this smell out of my fur…
He walked down the ancient steps and turned the corner into the entryway of the Sanctuary. Mother was stopped over the large table in front of her and Arnbjorn's room, marking something on the map of Skyrim laying on it. She looked up from her work and smiled when she saw him, her hard blue eyes softening. "Ah, my cub has arrived. How was your kill, darling?"
Jo'Kaasi looked sheepishly at the ground. "It could have gone better, Mother. I let my mind wander and I lost sight of the target, which just made everything more difficult than it should have been," he said quietly. Mother sighed, walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around him. She pulled his head to her shoulder and ruffled his ears. "Don't worry, my cub. You're still young, you're allowed to make some mistakes. But as long as you learned from it and killed the target, it's all worked out," she said as she gave him a squeeze and released him. "Now go on into the chamber and join the Family."
He entered the main chamber where the Family stood gathered near the training dummies. They were in the middle of swapping stories. "Tell us the part where he tries to buy you some candy," Veezara laughed. Babette giggled. "Okay, okay, wait," she said. She began speaking like an old man, saying, "'Oh, you're such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes, how about some chocolate?' So I said, 'Oh yes please, kind sir! My mama and papa left me all alone, and I'm so very hungry! I know a shortcut to the candy shop, just through this alley!' So he gets this disgusting smirk on his face and takes my hand. We turn the corner into it and he goes, 'Oh my, it's dark down here, but you're so beautiful! What a lovely little smile!'" She grinned and let her fangs sink down. "Then I showed him just how pretty my smile was! 'Oh my, your teeth! Your teeth!'"
The Family burst into laughter, and Jo'Kaasi couldn't help but giggle along with them. After his shitstorm of a kill, it was good to hear another one of Babette's stories. No one in the Dark Brotherhood needed any more reason to kill than Mother's orders, but it seemed fitting that the undead child-thing was the one to kill so many perverts. And something about Babette's stories seemed personal, like she had a vendetta against her targets. Jo'Kaasi had asked Mother about it once, and she had warned him against asking unless he wanted Aunt Babette to brew him up into a stew.
As the laughter settled, Arnbjorn looked at Jo'Kaasi. "What about you, furball? Any marvelous stories to tell us?" The Khajiit's ears folded back in irritation. What I wouldn't give to have a nice, warm, wolf skin to keep me warm, he thought. "It was fine, Arnbjorn. Just some mine boss in Dawnstar," he said coldly. The werewolf stared into Jo'Kaasi's eyes with disdain. He had never been able to figure out why Arnbjorn hated him so much. The werewolf was Mother's husband, but he absolutely despised Jo'Kaasi. Maybe he's afraid Mother only needs one furball in her life. Nazir sensed the tension building, and chimed in with one of his puns.
"Well, you know, working in the mines is a cutthroat business! And those hours - they're murder!"
And with that, the tension melted. Arnbjorn's large frame was rocked with laughter as he gathered his smithing tools. Jo'Kaasi walked with Nazir through the dusty tunnels of the Sanctuary to the dining hall. "Why does he hate me so much, Uncle?" Jo'Kaasi asked. Nazir sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who knows? Maybe you're just bad for his allergies," he said. "Now go help Festus with dinner. That old coot's started enough fires for the week."