10th of Sun's Dusk
"I swear I've seen this handwritin' before." Delvin grumbled while he and Brynjolf sat at his table in the Ragged Flagon. It was the day after Brynjolf and Isobel had returned to Riften, but the pair were still utterly exhausted. As soon as they had arrived they weren't even given time to stretch their stiff legs before having to hold an emergency meeting regarding what they had discovered at Honningbrew. Then they had to go directly to visit Maven at her manor, who was not the least bit pleased with the Guild's new enemy.
"Don't strain too hard, Delv." Brynjolf said with a large yawn. "Old brains aren't that flexible." Delvin had been pouring over the Goldenglow Bill of Sale and the Honningbrew promissory note since their return, trying desperately to solve the mystery of the person behind the enigmatic symbol.
"Trust me, I've been cursin' this old brain of mine all day. I know I've dealt with this writin' before, and Gujul-Lei sounds bloody familiar." Delvin rubbed his bald head agitatedly before staring at something beyond Brynjolf. Brynjolf turned to see Isobel crawling up Dirge's back, vigilant as ever at his post and not paying any attention to the small person climbing him like a tree. Delvin started chuckling, and Brynjolf couldn't help by smile as Isobel finally managed to sit atop Dirge's shoulders and rest her arms on his head.
"I've never seen him tolerant someone like that." Brynjolf muttered quietly, remembering what Thrynn had said about Isobel healing Dirge after he stood up to Maul.
"Aye, that's for sure."
"Delvin." Brynjolf spoke suddenly and leaned on the table. "How come you sent me to Battle-Born when he specifically asked for Isobel?"
"I thought she had enough on her plate as it was and ya needed to get out of the city." He said simply, the corners of his mouth slightly turned upward.
Before Brynjolf could argue he was distracted by the enthusiastic murmur of Isobel chatting with Dirge. His ears strained to try and pick up any of her inaudible words, but the sounds of Delvin rustling papers and the clanging pots of Vekel preparing dinner drowned out any chance of him hearing any of their conversation.
"Whatcha thinkin' bout, boy?" Delvin asked with another grin. "Ya seem to be in deep thought."
"I think I'm going to spend some time upstairs for a bit." Brynjolf sighed and got up. "That journey really sparked my appetite for fresh air."
"Oh sure, sure." Delvin waved him away as he turned back to his papers. Brynjolf made to give Isobel a quick, casual smile as he passed her and Dirge on the way through the Flagon, inciting a beaming smile from the Breton and a stern nod from the bodyguard. It wasn't until Brynjolf was several steps away did he hear Isobel's nattering.
"...There it was, a gleaming axe right on my neck, glaring at my face. The bitch was ready to decapitate me, but I knew her type. I started up the waterworks and told her I was pregnant. And just like that, ever so slightly, she softened. Like cheese left out in the sun..."
'What a child.' Brynjolf chuckled to himself.
Isobel had a hard time trying to finish her story when Brynjolf had taken her concentration out of the Flagon with him, and gave Dirge a severely abridged version of the following events before promptly sliding off his shoulders.
"So yeah, that's why my nose is still sore. I'm gonna go hassle Delvin for a bit. Call Brynjolf 'Da' if he comes back in here, promise?" She said hastily as the bodyguard's haggard mouth failed to hide a smirk. With a brief glance back at the Flagon door Isobel moved towards the tavern and Delvin's table.
"Hey, Delv. Any luck?" She asked as she leaned over his shoulder, pretending to be interested in the papers she had read several times already.
"Nay." Delvin mumbled. "I'm thinkin' I'm gonna have to dig out some old documents, read up on previous contacts to the Guild and whatnot." Isobel glanced at the Flagon door again.
"Where did Brynjolf go?"
Delvin smiled knowingly at her question.
"Oh, y'know. Probably up and 'round the market. Why?"
"Just wondering." Isobel shrugged and gave Delvin a couple pats on the shoulder. "I'm uh... going to go train for a bit, call me if you need any help."
"Will do, Issy."
As soon as she entered the cistern Isobel sped over to the secret passage leading up to the surface. This was the perfect opportunity to try and see if Brynjolf would still talk to her after she tested his patience so well over their journey. The rest of the trip had gone smoothly enough, she was already making him laugh a lot more easily and both were able to talk for hours. She was just still hung up on trying to figure out Brynjolf's aloof behavior during their rabbit meal on that first night...
Snow was still floating lazily down from the grey skies as it had for the past few days, blanketing the town in a thin layer of fluff. Every chimney plumed with smoke from fires constantly stoked to keep the cold at bay. Isobel walked along the alleys and through the marketplace, but Brynjolf was no where to be seen and her nose and ears were starting to go numb from the cold.
She grew more and more frustrated until she finally turned down a street walled by the Honorhall courtyard. There he was, fiery hair blazing against the stark white snow, standing in the middle of the desolate street in front of the stone wall of the orphanage. Isobel wondered what he was doing, tilting her head slightly, until she saw a ratty, leather ball fly over the iron barbs above the courtyard wall and land into Brynjolf's outstretched hands. With a gentle motion he tossed it back to the other side.
'Oh Gods, he's playing catch with orphans.' Isobel thought as she covered her smile with the back of her hand. What was it about manly men playing with children that was so attractive even to women who didn't want kids? She continued watching the ball fly back and forth over the stone wall, children's shouting heard even where she was standing.
Slowly she approached towards Brynjolf, not wanting to disrupt his play but wanting a closer view. She was completely caught off guard when Brynjolf made to throw the ball over the courtyard wall and instead whipped it in her direction, causing her to catch the ball on reflex but still be startled.
"Come to join, lass?" Steam blew from Brynjolf's mouth as he laughed.
"Only if you'll let me."
"Of course." He grinned as Isobel threw the ball up and over to the orphans, enticing her to smile as well.
"So... do you do this often? Play with the orphans?" Isobel asked.
"Sometimes, not often enough though." Brynjolf sighed. "You want me to introduce you?" Isobel hesitated as Brynjolf gestured her towards him. "C'mon, lass. They don't bite." He coaxed and Isobel finally approached. She was taken by surprise when she felt his large hands grab her hips and hoist her up, her stomach rioting at his touch as she held onto the iron barbs and looked over the wall. There stood four children, all around ages seven to eleven and all gazing up at her curiously.
"Cute, aren't they?" Brynjolf said as he pulled himself up by Isobel's side.
"Did you just say cute?" Isobel laughed under her breath, finding his choice of word adorable. Brynjolf looked somewhat embarrassed as he cleared his throat.
"These here are Runa, Hroar, Samuel and Francois." Brynjolf gestured to each child with his head. "Children, this is Isobel." They all looked at her, her heart going out to such younglings who were confined to a tiny, barren yard.
'And no family...' She thought sadly. She would've ended up in a place like this had her Guild not taken her in, maybe even this specific orphanage had she remained in Skyrim after the bandit attack. Another pained thought singed her head when she remembered her baby brother would've been around their age had he not been axed at their mother's breast.
"Is she one of your friends?" Runa asked as she held the ball under her arm. There was a bruise on her cheek and her brown eyes had dark circles under them.
"Uh... aye, she's my friend." Brynjolf flustered, making Isobel beam.
"Is she your girlfriend?" Samuel questioned. This time both Brynjolf and Isobel turned red.
"No laddie, she's not." He answered sternly.
"Does she do all the cool stuff you do?" Hroar asked with sparkling eyes. "Uncle Brynjolf says he's going to teach me a bunch of tricks when I'm older!"
"Uncle Brynjolf?!" Isobel squeaked, Brynjolf looked humiliated yet again.
"Look, Isobel and I gotta go now." Brynjolf spoke quickly as the orphans started to protest. "Don't you let Mercer catch you whining like that or you'll never get in the Guild!" Brynjolf scolded and they immediately fell silent.
"They're really sweet." Isobel said as they dropped to the dirty alley road, following Brynjolf's lead. From the looks of it he was heading back to the cistern.
"Aye, poor little bastards." Brynjolf sighed. Isobel wouldn't have had the slightest idea that Brynjolf had this softness to him, this was the same man who stood on her throat for an amethyst and robbed a naive woman after deflowering her. "Did you know Delvin grew up there?"
"No, I didn't."
"Mhm, back when Grelod was called The Kind because she actually was. Now she's such a crusty old crone her nickname simply stuck to her as a joke. It was probably Delvin that drove her over the edge." Brynjolf laughed, gaining a few chuckles from Isobel.
"Where were you raised?" The question had slipped out before she could catch herself, hoping she wasn't intruding Brynjolf's invisible boundaries.
"I'm from Falkreath, lived right next to the graveyard." He answered, and to Isobel's amazement he didn't sound defensive. "Where are you from?"
"The Imperial City."
"You know what I mean, lass." Brynjolf smiled. "Where were you born? Where were your family from?"
"My family were nomads, we weren't from anywhere... We were from everywhere." They were barely even halfway to the mausoleum but Isobel felt a sudden desperation to keep Brynjolf above ground. She felt unable to really talk to him in the cistern or Ragged Flagon, and she didn't want to revert to their usual rigid and stiflingly professional interaction the moment they descended the wood ladder.
"Do you want to go for a walk by the lake?" ISobel blurted, the words slurring into each other like swamp water. She immediately felt stupid, they had already spent thirteen days traveling together, they were still tired and the weather was even more frigid outside Riften's walls. Brynjolf merely slowed his step, a faint delay in his answer.
"Aye."
25th of Sun's Dusk
Thrynn entered the cistern that evening with a heavy sigh. It had been a long, cold journey, and a run in with a couple of Forsworn had left him with a deep, poorly stitched gash on his left arm, his bandages were still bloody. He was exhausted, but he had something he wanted to give Isobel. His spirit was somewhat crushed as he heard her hysteric voice over Vipir's laughter.
"And so... so she pulls off my trousers... and then she sees my... and freaks out!" Isobel was having trouble getting the words out of her cackling mouth as Vipir roared beside her. Thrynn used to feel somewhat taken aback at Isobel's dirty tale-tellings, but the more he overheard the more he couldn't help but think her sexuality reflected the personality he loved so much about her. The mischievous, playful side of her with a touch of grit. He just wished she'd tell stories to him and not exclusively Vipir... He probably knew a lot more about her than any of the other men.
"It was one of the best moments of my life... it was like... it was like I had invented a completely new way to hurt somebody's feelings."
"She honestly believed you were a man?!" Vipir guffawed.
"If you ever saw me with a fake moustache you would too!" Isobel shouted defensively. "I've never been able to grow an ass and my tits are smaller than the average male's pecs."
"They're not that small!" Vipir retorted.
"Oh? I supposed you've made enough good observations to back that thesis up?" Isobel jested. Thrynn turned to her bed just in time to see Vipir bite his lip and wiggle his eyebrows... a very wrinkled Vipir...
"What are you doing?" Thrynn asked. Isobel turned and lit up at his sight.
"Thrynn! Thank gods you came back all right!" She got up and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, a hug which Thrynn was quick to return with a pained grimace. "Wait, what happened to your arm?"
"Ran into a couple Forsworn halfway between Markarth and Rorikstead." Thrynn answered as the wrinkled Vipir whistled.
"Shit, let me have a look at it." Isobel made to remove his bandages but Thrynn stopped her. He couldn't help but think the scrap with the Reach savages was worth it to see Isobel fret over his wound, and tried to hide his smile.
"No worries Issy, I've had worse. What I want to know is what you're doing to the Fleet."
"I'm turning him into an old man." Isobel smirked as she removed herself from his grasp and sat on her bed, patting the space beside her for Thrynn. Apparently she was using some sort of brown paint and a very fine brush to accentuate the natural lines on Vipir's face, aging him by decades.
"Scrunch your forehead again." She instructed and Vipir obliged, Isobel softly tracing his brow lines with her brush. "I'll heal you later tonight Thrynn, I don't care how 'minor' your cut is. I just want to finish Vipir before one of the seniors walk in."
"I'm glad you're here in one piece. A lot of stuff's been going on, have you heard about our new enemy?" Vipir asked and looked at Thrynn intensely, his face somewhat comical with his eyebrows raised halfway up to his hairline, Isobel painting away.
"No, is someone trying to hurt us?" Thrynn dropped his heavy bag and sat beside Isobel on the edge of her bed.
"Her and Brynjolf came back from a job in Whiterun with a promissory note from Honningbrew Meadery with the same symbol as the one from Goldenglow." Vipir explained. "Honningbrew was having shit loads of coin raining on them so they could compete with Maven."
"So? What does that have to do with the Guild?" Thrynn grumbled.
"It means someone's trying to weaken us by weakening Maven." Isobel spoke up. "Delvin's been pouring over books trying to find any clue as to who they are, but so far nothing's come up."
"You went on a job with Brynjolf?" Thrynn asked suspiciously, referring to Vipir's earlier comment.
"Yes." Isobel said sternly. "And it went well."
"Isobel's in love with him, gave him massages and everything. Now she spends all her time with him, going for walks and having snowball fights-" Vipir was interrupted by a sharp flick of Isobel's paint brush handle on his nose. Thrynn's twinge of jealously immediately boiled into a bubbling envy. Of course Brynjolf would charm the girl, like he has every other woman to walk in and out the Guild, and Thrynn didn't want to give him the satisfaction of adding Isobel to his list of conquests, he felt sick at the mere idea of it.
"Don't listen to him, Thrynn." Isobel said, pulling Thrynn out of his thoughts. "This is coming from the same mouth that said I was in love with Gray Fox." Somehow Thrynn felt like Vipir was telling the truth this time.
"Here. I got you something." Thrynn said, trying not to sound too disgruntled as he dug through his pack and pulled out a wooden flute. "You said you could outplay any bard, prove it." His angst soon turned into satisfaction as Isobel's eyes grew wide and she dropped her brush.
"This is good quality." She muttered as she took it from his hands.
"Nicked it straight from the store." Thrynn smirked. Isobel stood up from her bed, timidly blowing out some small, discreet scales before going full board. A fast jig emitted from her lips, her fingers dancing on the holes as Isobel's eyes steadily grew brighter. Thrynn was impressed, she did play extremely well, and he found his foot unconsciously tapping.
Niruin was the only other person in the room, resting on his bed as his pointed ears twitched to Isobel's twittering melody. She suddenly stopped.
"It's no fun making music if everyone's just going to sit there!" Isobel shouted, genuinely pissed off. Thrynn scoffed. As if he was going to move, the closest he'd ever got to dancing was when one of his old comrades set his boots on fire.
Isobel blew into her flute again, this time stamping her feet to the rhythm as another fast jig rang throughout the cistern. Vipir got up, jerking his legs around as he tried to clap to the music, his body still having a hard time moving from his healing chest and his face aged and concentrating fiercely. Niruin screamed with laughter at his bed, slamming his book down onto his lap as he watched Vipir's spectacle. With that Vipir skipped over to him and pulled Niruin by the arms.
"What are you doing, Vipir!?" Niruin bellowed. "Are you fucking drunk?!"
"Whether it be herring or it be kipper,
You may drink like a fish but a fish drink like Vipir!
But don't bar hop with Niruin,
None are square as he and Thrynn!"
Isobel sang loudly as she stomped on Thrynn's booted toes in an attempt to get him up and moving. Vipir was having more luck, dragging the Bosmer as he spun the poor elf in circles.
Thrynn was just starting to relax, the cheerful music starting to work its magic, a small smile perching on his lips as he watched Isobel's nimble fingers and admired her beaming profile. His ease was cut sort however as he heard the cistern door open and looked to see Brynjolf emerge with a curious, playful frown. He felt he body harden as he saw Isobel perk up at Brynjolf's presence.
"Here comes Brynjolf, old as the hills,
The Bedroom Bandit as classy as Bravil!"
What did she mean? Bedroom Bandit? Where they already having inside jokes? Thrynn fumed, watching Isobel blow into her flute as she nudged and kicked the red-head, only to have him playfully stomp back with a grin as she dodged his feet, her smile ruining a few notes.
"Stop it, lass." Brynjolf laughed as he tried to push the persistent bard away. Thrynn flinched at the petname.
"SHUT UP!" Mercer screamed. The group stared at him as the last of the jig's echoes fell silent, Brynjolf subtly shuffling further away from Isobel. Thrynn hadn't even noticed the Guild Master was still at his desk. "I am trying to work! In case you haven't realized we're in some deep shit!" He turned his harsh glare to Isobel, the flute still posed in her mouth, and after a few beats looked back at his papers.
"Maybe we could go to the Flagon." Vipir whispered. "He can't hear it from there, and I want to try and get Dirge dancing."
"Only if you want a few missing teeth, lad." Brynjolf chuckled, holding Vipir's chin and admiring his wrinkles. All three of the men looked confused at Brynjolf's sudden friendliness, although Isobel was completely unfazed. Thrynn scowled.
"Issy, do you think you can heal my arm soon." He placed his hand on Isobel's hip, making sure Brynjolf saw their closeness. "It's getting pretty damn painful."
"Uh... okay." Isobel frowned up at him, her fingers moving up and down her flute in a silent tune. "Where do you want to do it?"
"Anywhere you like, Issy." Thrynn smiled and shot Brynjolf a cold stare, a stare the senior member returned.