THE COLDEST SLEEP
CHAPTER THREE
DEAR SISTER
There was a quiet rapping at the door. "Enter," Vicente said without looking up from his book. He only tore his gaze from the faded ink when he heard her voice.
"Gaston Tussaud is dead."
Melantha stood in the doorway, her chest heaving. She was garbed in a frilly dress, with curls the colour of burnt umber piled into a loose bun. Her pale cheeks were tainted with a deep blush, and a grin adorned her lips.
Vicente didn't reply, instead staring at her with one brow quirked as if to ask, What did you do?
"It's not exactly hard to get aboard a pirate vessel." Melantha said with a chuckle. "If you play your cards right, that is."
The vampire smirked, setting down his book and clasping his hands on the pages. "You are determined to make a name for yourself, aren't you, Sister?"
In truth, Melantha hadn't been all too thrilled about joining the Brotherhood, but something drew her toward it. Perhaps it was that momentary rush of pleasure mingled with pure, raw adrenaline she had gotten when she carved her blade into that fur trader.
"In due time, dear Brother." said Melantha as she left, smiling coyly.
The common was nearly empty. Everyone was out on contracts, or just desperate to avoid Antoinetta's cooking. The latter was nowhere to be found either, at least that was what Melantha assumed from the lack of garlic penetrating the air.
"Enjoying the silence, sister?"
Melantha looked up from where she had been tracing indentions in the wood of the common table to find Ocheeva lingering in the doorway. A smile flashed across her face. "Quite."
"It only gets this empty during the spring and the autumn," said the Argonian, taking a seat across from Melantha. The Imperial leaned against the table, her chin propped up on her hand. "It's much more lively in the summer, and especially the winter."
Melantha chuckled, letting her gaze wander in the silence that followed. The furs of the bedrolls lining the walls were tossed about haphazardly and candle stubs sat beside the pillows, puddles of dried wax surrounding it. Other signs of life filled the room, and they were all still like the air.
"I have a contract to get to. Enjoy your night, dear sister."
Ocheeva stood, her chair scraping across the stones shattering the silence. Melantha smiled half-heartedly at her, not moving until the door had closed behind her. Then, the Imperial pulled off the heavy dress she wore and slid into one of the bedrolls, drifting into a dreamless slumber.
I apologize for the short chapter and not updating in so long. I had a bit of writer's block, and I've been busy with school and life, etcetera.
Au revoir!