Descent into Madness
Annabella woke up to rub at her eyes and take a good look at her surroundings. She couldn't remember where she was. Or who she had been with. There was a woman seated at the far corner of the room, her back turned and bent over what appeared to be a cooking pot. The smell was revolting. Judging from her stature, she had assumed she was Breton, like her. The figure didn't seem hostile, nor did it radiate that kind of energy than the usual voice that talked to her.
Standing up quietly, she did her best to not make her presence known. Unfortunately, the bed beneath her had creaked, causing the woman in the corner to turn her head and practically beam at the conjurer.
"Oh," She exclaimed, immediately taking to standing up. "You're awake! This is good; oh, so good."
"And you are?" She took a step back, crossing her arms as she glanced the woman up and down. She had similar hair color and the same green eyes as Annabella. Strange, but she supposed it wasn't too unusual for Bretons.
"Why, I'm Antoinetta!" She beamed as she rushed forward to give Annabella a tight, warm hug. The Breton stumbled back from the impact.
"O-okay, Antoinetta," She stammered as she wiggled her way out of the embrace. "Who are you and why are you here?"
"Silly," Antoinetta clicked her tongue as she looked her up and down, a smile gracing her features. "I'm your auntie."
"T-that's impossible," She shook her head. "My family is all dead."
"But of course they are," She replied. "I'm dead. Just as you will be one day."
"If you're dead, how can I talk to you?"
"Ah," She mused. "Certainly a good question. Perhaps I'll ask Sithis when I can fully have his attention. He's a busy deity, you know."
"Sithis?"
"Things will fall into place soon, dear," She hummed happily as she walked back over to the cooking pot. "You truly are pretty. I say you get those looks from me!" She giggled as she haphazardly began to stir the contents in the pot; dark, brown water splashing out and pooling at her feet.
"How do I know you're not lying?" She quirked a brow before seating herself back on the side of the bed, her eyes never drifting far from Antoinetta.
"You just have to trust me," She shrugged as she began to scoop some of the liquid into a wooden bowl. "I really am your aunt. Give or take a few 'greats', that is."
"If you say so," She responded, a look of disgust on her face. The smell in the room was absolutely disgusting. "What in Mara's name are you brewing?"
"Oh, just a little something I call the Marie family special," She grinned as she walked over, two bowls held firmly in her hands. She shoved one of them towards Annabella, which she reluctantly took. It looked like dirt with a dash of garlic. "I'm sure you'll like it, m'dear!"
"I'm sure I won't," She felt her stomach do a bunch of flips and flops as she gazed into the bowl. "This smells disgusting."
"Oof," Antoinetta slowly began to stir the contents of her bowl, her face falling slightly. "Lucien used to say the same thing. Said my cooking had smelled akin to a skeever being roasted. Apparently that isn't a very delicious smell, nor taste. Vicente almost ate it once, but to be fair I had forgotten he was a vampire. Oh, that would have been horrible. To have been banished from the brotherhood for weakening and perhaps even killing my brother."
"Wait, wait," Annabella politely set her bowl on the nightstand and looked at the woman with mild curiosity. "You said your last name was Marie, right?"
"Yes, dear. I'm your-
"Great-great-great aunt or something, I know," She interrupted. "So you're not lying to me?"
"I'm a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them," She mused as she placed a hand on her shoulder. The younger breton flinched. "I'm not going to hurt you, and I definitely will not make you eat that if you don't wish."
"Thank you," Annabella let out a sigh of relief. "But I'm curious. What are you going on about? Who are these people?"
"Ah," She paused, a sudden look of confusion on her face. "I wasn't supposed to tell you those things, yet. Must have let them slip. I was always known as being too talkative in my living days. Guess being dead doesn't change much. Please ignore what I've said."
"How can I ignore it?" Annabella quirked a brow at the oblivious woman, her confusion seemingly overshadowing all her other thoughts.
"Wake up."
Annabella felt a shiver run down her spine as she heard that all too familiar, motherly voice. Wake up? Wasn't she already awake? Suddenly the cooking pot in the corner boiled over, red contents splashing out. It took her a moment to realize it was blood. As the blood drew near, she subconsciously drew her feet up onto the bed. Antoinetta removed her hand from her shoulder, her face slowly becoming more grotesque.
"Well, that's my queue," She stood up, not minding that her feet were being covered in the thick, red substance. "I hope you realize who you are, soon enough. We will chat again another day."
"But I have so many more questions," She reached out for the breton, but quickly retracted her arm. Her body was decomposing. Antoinetta suddenly collapsed onto the floor, her body being eaten up by the blood. Annabella knew she was helpless. As if she were a small child, she cradled her knees together, arms wound tightly around her legs. There was nothing she could do, but wait for the inevitable death.
"Take that, you Imperial scum!"
Annabella's eyes shot wide open. A dream! It was only a dream. She smiled as she glanced up at the sky. She must have fallen asleep on the carriage. Everything came crashing back into her mind. Shortly after leaving her room back in the Imperial City, she rented a carriage to take her as far as the border to Skyrim.
"Ahhhhh-!" A woman screamed, jolting her upright in the carriage. The sight made her heart get stuck within her throat. Or at least the sensation of it. Surrounding the carriage on either side were a group of bandits. Thankfully none of them had taken notice of the less than alert Breton, for their attention was all on a small farm that the carriage was parked near.
Wait.. parked? Annabella looked around in search of the carriage driver, but found that he was nowhere in sight. Swallowing hard, she realized he must have accidentally ran right into the bandit raid. While she was in no mood to fight, she felt she had no choice in this matter. Grumbling to herself, she reclined further into the carriage to utter a spell that would surely send her enemies to their doom.
A bursting bright light of fire flashed out of nowhere, a Flame Atronach now standing at the side of the carriage. The Daedra did an exaggerated twirl before burning the surrounding bandits until they were no more than crisps. The smell of burning flesh was always the worse and the Breton did her best to block out the prickling sensation in her nose.
While Annabella could indeed fight, she normally found no reasoning to. Sure she could use a dagger, but what fun was that when you could summon a Daedra to do the work for you? Within a few moments of the Breton laying absolutely bored on the floorboard of the carriage, the atronach finally came back into view. She gave her a look akin to a mother scolding a child, to which she held her hands up in defeat.
"Okay, okay," She mumbled. "I'm sorry, Queen of Fire."
Annabella could have sworn the Daedra gave her a look of contempt before doing one last twirl then exploding into a ring of flame. The Breton finally stood up to look at her surroundings, a triumphant look in her eyes. The bandits all lay around the carriage dead. Barely recognizable aside from perhaps some burnt horker meat. The only negative now was trying to figure out where in Oblivion she was. It was cold, oh, so cold. It was as if she had just realized it and took to wrapping her hands around her arms to try and block out the chill.
That's when she took note of the men laying around that remained untouched by fire. They didn't look like your normal run-of-the-mill bandits. They wore lots of fur in a shade of blue and grey. She recognized the style of armor came directly from Skyrim. Cyrodiil never had a need for such heavy equipment. The cold stayed far away from the citizens in her homeland.
"Oh," She spoke to no one in particular as she noticed the huge, iron gates up the hill. The gate to Skyrim. It seemed to be making more sense now. Annabella smiled sadly to herself as she realized she wasn't too far from her destination, though at the same time realized that she was that much closer to leaving home.
Mustering up all the courage she had, she flung her legs over the carriage to land on the ground with a CRACK! Wait a minute, she mused, looking down at the crushed in face of the carriage driver. "Ah, that's where you went."
She glanced at the gleaming slivers of gold stored away in a pouch that the bandits had tried to take and shrugged inwardly to herself as she bent over to place the small pouch in her traveling satchel. No point in just leaving it lay about. Besides, she mused, the dead could consider it payment for taking care of the bandits. She'd have taken the horse too, had her atronach not killed it. Whoops?
With a bit more confidence, Annabella weaved around the dead to get to the gate. She had fully expected to be bombarded with questions by the border patrol, but found that they were also in a less than living state. The Breton furrowed her brows at her luck and, sighing to herself, figured the dead wouldn't snitch and continued on her way, though being overly cautious at the violent nature of this new land.
It was almost nightfall when she reached a quaint little town known by the name of Riverwood. The locals were kind enough, even offering her some spare food after sharing tidbits of her travels. Annabella welcomed it all happily, thankful for the kindness of the strangers. The Breton had considered staying at the nearby inn, but decided fully against it. For one, she hadn't wanted to dream anymore. The nightmare dreams were taking a toll on her and frankly, she didn't want to be bothered with trying to piece together what each dream was trying to tell her.
So she continued on her journey after thanking the villagers. Falkreath seemed the best and closest places for work according to many of the shopkeepers, so that's where she would go. The Breton hastily opened her map to get a good look at the area. It looked to be quite the walk on foot. Luckily for her, she heard a carriage come up from behind, her interest peaking at the sound.
"Hello there, ma'am!" Came an overly cheerful voice from behind her. The carriage came to an abrupt stop for Annabella to get a good look at him. He was a jester! A silly, silly jester that the Breton had read stories about. They entertained people, right? Surely he would make for good company, given the circumstances.
"Why hello there, sir Jester. Mighty far from Cyrodiil, aren't you?" She quirked a brow and crossed her arms at the silly man. He gave a hearty, high pitched laugh before bounding out of the carriage in a comical fashion.
"Pleased to meet you," He reached forcefully for her hand to gift it a swift kiss. "Cicero at your service, madam-!"
"It's nice to meet you, Cicero." She beamed at the delightful man before her. "My name is Annabella."
"Ah, Annabella," He noted, a finger coming up to poke at his chin. "What brings a Breton to Skyrim?"
"Well," She began, a hint of worry in her voice. To be honest, she didn't wish to say that she came here because a scary voice in a dream told her to. That would be preposterous. "I'm heading to find some work. The Mages guild didn't exactly work out."
"Work, work, work!" Cicero shook his head sadly. "That's all people care about anymore. No time for fun."
"I have fun, too," She stated as she stomped her foot softly on the cobbled road.
"I have no doubt, miss," He turned to look at the carriage, his eyes lingering near the back for a few moments. Annabella cleared her throat to alert him of her lingering presence. "Oh, dear. Maybe you'd like a ride? I won't charge you much. Sayyyyy," He grinned mischievously and squinted his eyes. "One hundred septims."
"One hundred septims!?" You exclaimed suddenly clutching your change purse close to your side. Cicero threw his head back in laughter.
"I jest, I jest!" He giggled as he held onto his stomach. Annabella shifted uneasily from one foot to the other as she took in the funny man. It wasn't that funny. "I'll give you a ride for free. I'm heading down towards Falkreath. Where are you headed?"
"Oh," She beamed, relieved at the thought of riding in a carriage as opposed to finishing her journey on foot. "I'm heading there, too."
"Then climb aboard, Miss Breton." He clambered atop the the carriage seat and held a hand out to the enthusiastic girl, her worries now seem to be a little less troublesome.
"Thank you, by the way," She shivered slightly, the moon now appearing faintly in the sky. Hopefully she could get used to the chilly atmosphere of Skyrim.
"Not a problem," Cicero mused as he giddied up the horse to charge them forward. "I think it's fantastic to have more company. I've been so lonely. The only person to even glance at poor Cicero within miles and miles of long road has been you and I'm such a social person. I need-"
Annabella tuned him out, his thought process too much for her to comprehend at the moment. She leaned forward and placed her chin within the palm of her hand as she took in the surroundings. Skyrim really was beautiful and not at all the wintery land she had pictured. Then again, she hadn't ventured up north and wondered at this point if she should even attempt it.
... darkness... rises...
"Huh?" Annabella perked her head up to look at Cicero. "What did you say?"
"Me?" Cicero shrugged, his jester cap bouncing up and down with each rock they hit. How it didn't fall off, she hadn't known. "I didn't say anything."
"Maybe I'm hearing things again," Annabella mused as she glanced out towards the rushing stream. Cicero seemed to have her full, undivided attention now, for he got incredibly close and whispered softly in her ear.
"You hear... voices?" The Breton revolted away from the Imperial, her nose wrinkling up. The way he said it made her realize how insane she was and how absolutely crazy that even sounded. Perhaps she should have kept her mouth firmly shut.
"It's nothing," She brushed him off and turned her attention towards the back area of the wagon, her curiosity peaking. "What's that in there?"
For all she knew, he was smuggling skooma or illegal weapons in that trunk. Perhaps she should have asked questions before agreeing to let him give her a ride. Cicero perked up at the mention of the trunk, for he grinned happily.
"Why, it's my poor, sweet mother-!"
"Your... mother?" She widened her eyes, a look of doubt on her face. "You have your mother in a trunk?"
"Oh, yes!" He squealed happily. "But don't worry." He placed the back of his hand on his head in a overly dramatic fashion. "She's quite dead."
"O-oh," Annabella paused, looking away from him and the box once again. She was about to say more, but Cicero's laughter broke through her thoughts.
"Don't fret, silly girl," He patted her shoulder affectionately. "Mother has been dead for quite some time. The darkness finally took her, so I'm on my way to bury her."
"How did she die?"
Cicero's eyes darkened and his look turned quite sinister. Annabella shrunk back a bit at his expression and then as if nothing in the world had happened, he was back to his bubbly self. "I'd rather not speak of it, if you don't mind. Makes poor Cicero's heart ache."
... silence... dies...
"What?"
"I said I'd rather not speak of i-"
"No, no, no," She shook her hands wildly. "What else did you say? Besides that."
"Nothing?" Now it was Cicero's turn to appear confused, his brow quirking as he looked between her and the road ahead of them. "What is it you heard?"
"Nothing," She sighed. "It doesn't make sense."
"Tell me," He commanded, his face turning quite sinister again. She was starting to regret accepting this ride and was pondering just jumping off and going about her business, killing him if need be.
"Darkness rises... silence died.. or something along those words," She laughed nervously. "Must just be my lack of sleep. I'll be fine once we get to Falkreath."
Cicero's expression, however, did not change. Instead he kept staring and staring and staring so much that Annabella was fearful he would lead the horse straight into the river. She cleared her throat and looked down at her gloved fingertips. Anything to get him to leave her alone with that uneasy look he was giving her.
"The Night Mother has chosen?" Cicero appeared to be in deep thought, worrying Annabella over what he had meant.
"Night Mother? What is that?" She leaned closer towards him, genuinely curious about what he was mumbling about. He ignored her and was silent. Annabella hadn't known him for long, but she did know that it wasn't like him to be so still and quiet. Huffing when he hadn't responded, she looked away.
Suddenly, her world went dark as a bag was shoved over her head, her body being toppled over onto the trunk in the back. She'd have spoken - said anything at all in protest, but something hard and blunt had hit her on the head, causing her vision to completely vanish and all aspects of realty seemed to disappear as she fell into a restless slumber.