"Go now, dear sister, and may the Night Mother wrap you in her cold, loving embrace." the female argonian practically purred in dismissal, and Elisif was glad to be sent on her way. The Sanctuary was not what she was expecting, if she were being honest. Oh, it was peopled with murderers and cutthroats to be sure, but they were well and truly family. Their deference towards Lucien was enough that Elisif had to avoid eye contact with her new brothers and sisters lest she be caught rolling said eyes at their earnest admiration.

It was more than that. These people genuinely cared for one another, at least on some level or another. It was obvious in their good advice to one another, their questions of contracts fulfilled and ongoing. The warmth of their expressions bled through immediately. She was the outsider, the interloper, but she did as bid and introduced herself. It ended well for the most part; Elisif knew she'd never met such a friendly orc as Gogron and was more than relieved that Ocheeva had forbidden what would have been a bone-crushing hug. Antoinetta Marie was surprisingly bubbly, though she certainly possessed a bloodthirsty streak. Teinaava was equal parts cordial and cunning, and Mraaj-dar was a bit of a cunt, but there was always one. There was also an elf she had missed somewhere in it all, but the mer apparently didn't spend as much time in the Sanctuary as she once did, which left only one person she had yet to see.

Elisif spent the better part of an hour introducing herself and becoming familiar with the layout of the Sanctuary, and then she made her way deeper within, passing Ocheeva's private quarters and following the sloping halls down to the quarters of Vicente Valtieri. The name smacked of the familiarity of childhood, an old friend of the family, and once or twice he had checked on her well-being when she lived in the Elven Gardens District. It was a testament to her crippling naivety that she had not noticed the vampirism that afflicted him back then, but she certainly did now. Gaunt cheeks, sharp teeth, and red eyes were obvious enough, but then came the aura he possessed, equal parts intimidation and seduction, and Elisif found it more difficult to resist than she would have believed. Any other vampire she had met had been immediately hostile (well, save the Count of Skingrad, but he was intimidating for his own reasons), so she had not been afforded the opportunity to speak freely with one. It was similar to being around the Daedric artifacts, an attack on the will, and her will was not what it once was.

Vicente seemed to detect her reluctance and fear, because he immediately set about trying to make her feel at ease, welcoming her into his quarters. "Warmest greetings, Elisif. The years have been kind to you." he gestured to his hollowed cheeks and crimson eyes, "More so than myself, at any rate. Come now, sit, you must be exhausted." With that he pulled out a chair at his rough-hewn table and beckoned towards it, leaving her with little course but to accept, though when he started pouring her a glass of wine she eyed it suspiciously, drawing a laugh from the vampire. "Ah! No no, it's just wine, I assure you. I keep the real thing elsewhere."

She observed the man over the rim of her glass, taking a healthy gulp of a surprisingly good vintage from Skingrad, desperate to avoid any small talk. If Vicente noticed he made no mention, watching patiently as she gathered her weary thoughts.

"So."

"So?" Vicente quipped, "So, what's next? I am to assign you your contracts as a fledgling member. You will receive monetary compensation for your services, as well as some additional boons from time to time when a contract is carried out a specific way. Pay no heed to the particulars and you forfeit the bonus, some of which is quite splendid. When you aren't attending to contracts you are welcome to stay here in the sanctuary, to practice in our training quarters, or simply to bask in the calm comfort of kindred spirits. Everyone needs a place to call home, after all." As he spoke, Elisif took the time to study the room. His room, seemingly carved from the stone. The whole of it was cold and hard, from the stone slab for a bed to the rocky walls and floor pavers. She imagined standing there in bare feet, feeling the cold seep into her bones. Imagined laying on that slab, the granite making her spine creak after every frigid night. The only thing about the room that bore any semblance of comfort was the light, cheery and bright enough to read by, illuminating his work desk. A gentle hand over hers, cold and hard as marble, shocked her from her study. A white so fine as to be translucent, revealing all the little capillaries beneath, his nails shining and sharp, seeming as living stone in his stillness, but when she looked up he bore the perfect expression of concern.

"I-" Elisif stammered, "Perhaps I was more tired than I thought. I apologize. To be honest, I never thought to be here. In fact I fought against it."

"Yes, I've heard about it in great detail. You sent our Speaker on quite the chase, I'm told." If Vicente disapproved, she couldn't tell from his mild tone. Being talked about still rankled.

"You heard about that?" she answered quietly. "Did everyone?"

"No, not everyone. Lucien has known me his entire life, and I like to think there is a degree of kinship that exists between us. Mostly he keeps what he knows close to his chest, but he did reveal his difficulties gaining access to you privately. It's not every day that he chases someone into the Deadlands."

If he expected a response, Elisif certainly disappointed, thoughts zipping through a variety of subjects. She thought of Martin, dead and gone, and how disappointed he would have been, knowing she had descended to this place. Or of Raminus, sweet and kind and undeserving of her madness. Of her mother and father and whatever hopes they might have had for her outside this den of killers. Surely they had wanted something different for her, or else why wouldn't they have raised her as Lucien had been brought up, ever aware of Sithis and the Night Mother, of murder and the skills required to kill well? Whilst she sat lost in thought, Vicente had been busy gathering a few things for her, sitting a stack of leather-bound tomes in front of her.

"These belonged to your mother. She gave them to me after you were born and well away from this place. She intended for you to have them if ever you joined the family. Perhaps they will be a comfort to you." His smile was kind and winning, and she couldn't help the smile that stretched her own face, her fingers greedily touching the books before her.

"Thank you, Brother."

It was several days later that Elisif found herself at the waterfront, dagger bloody and a dead captain at her feet. The thief in her couldn't help digging through the chests and cupboards, taking anything of value before looting the corpse for good measure. Luckily she had become deft at such things, for no sooner had she finished than the dead man's crew came calling at the door, pleading for him to open up. She slipped out of the cabin, onto the deck, and out into the Rumare, the moonless night covering her escape. The shrieks began just as she reached the gates of the Elven Gardens District, and she was well ensconced in her former home before any fingers could be pointed at her.

She remembered the place as it once was, cheery fire, dried herbs hanging from the rafters, and all the personal touches of home and comfort. The place had been filled with laughter and happiness for as long as she had lived there, but now it was just a shell. No one had been there in years, her footprints the only ones in the thick dust. Broken furniture littered the floor, and she imagined Lucien as he had been, anger like a burning talisman as he destroyed the domesticity of their abode. The kitchen had been similarly ravaged, and there was nothing that had not been shattered save the tub which she took advantage of immediately, meticulously scrubbing herself clean in the gloom of her old home.

Still, she hated how much the place felt like home, how her heart, racing in excitement as it had been after the kill, had calmed the moment she crossed the threshold. Her feet carried her up the darkened stairwell, a weak magelight casting the walls in an eerie glow before she pushed open the bedroom door to find it mostly untouched. She had never been one to own much clothing, and her abductors insisted on bringing what little there was for their journey. All that really remained here was the bed and the empty cupboards and chests. A brief inspection revealed the furniture to be unharmed, and Elisif found herself on her knees before the chest at the foot of her bed, fingers sliding down the back until she found a discreet latch that, when activated, opened the false bottom within. Time had turned the paper yellow, but everything remained the same as she had left it, all of her secret treasures safe and snug years later. She expected the old bed to squeak as she leaned back on it, but it was quiet as she started reading the letters he had once sent her. Oh, had he known they were there, Lucien would have burned them all, but there they were, a damning record of her previous devotion to him.

Elisif was unsure how much time had passed since her arrival, but a cursory glance at out the windows revealed the first blush of dawn. Tired of the ghosts that lingered in that old home, she collected her things, letters safely stowed at the bottom of her satchel, and made her way through the city, arriving at the Mages Guild before the sun had properly risen. No one was around, and so no one bore witness to her quick flight to her own quarters, nor her haphazard stripping of travel leathers before stumbling drowsily into bed. No one knew that she slept like a baby for the first time in months, a restful and dreamless peace that she had never really known.