Night had shown itself; the stone walls of the Imperial City gleamed under the moonlight, giving it a celestial glow.
Lucien stood in the arms of shadow, unfazed by the beauty of nightfall. He ran his tongue roughly across his lips, dark eyes impatiently awaiting the arrival of crimson ones.
A few moments passed the assassin by; still, he was alone.
Sighing in annoyance, he gripped the hilt of his shortsword, its cold embrace calming him. I shall murder tonight, He told himself. This will all be worth the wait.
Granted, he knew not of the life he would take; his victim's death would not fulfill a contract. This desire was merely for personal interest, as he had not been given a contract for far too long, in his opinion. As a Speaker of the Brotherhood, his duty was not to kill, but to recruit new murderers with potential, to inform those beneath him of a contract. Despite his success, he longed for death, his art. He did not care for killing without true purpose, to serve Sithis and send that addictive chill down his spine; tonight, however, would be an exception.
The sight of azure skin, ebony hair, and ruby irises interrupted his thoughts; the grip around his shortsword tightened.
The girl, cloaked in shadow as well, stood alone in the deserted streets, before the closed entrance of Rindir's Staffs. She lifted a hand over the door handle, a soft golden light radiating from her hands. In the silence, he heard the soft click of a lock unraveling; she opened the door, slipping in as swiftly and gracefully as he would.
Lucien leaped from the roof of the building on which he was perched, robes rustling in the sudden wind.
Landing lightly on the balcony of the shop, he ventured to the Bosmer's bedroom window, seeing that it was slightly ajar; the curtains swayed lazily in the current of the wind. He placed his gloved fingers underneath the sill, lifting it with a great amount of force, the impact of its contact with the top of the window causing the sleeping elf to stir.
The assassin remained still, watching the mer awaken through the open window; he sat up, head turning toward the sound of the slam. He saw Lucien standing there, motionless, the cold darkness in his eyes seeming to stare into the mer's soul. He gasped, then screamed with every fiber of his being, eyes widened with fear; another crash was heard downstairs. Lucien licked his lips once again, softly, and slowly.
He then moved out of the Wood Elf's view, simply shifting towards the other side of the balcony. He lifted one arm above his head, and a shimmering green light cascaded over his body, hiding his presence. As soon as the spell was completed, Rindir threw his head out of the window, foolishly unarmed, searching for the man who'd terrified him; he found nothing.
The invisible man continued to stare at the Bosmer, his frantic panting music to his ears.
Once the mer became satisfied with his terror's disappearance, he withdrew his head from the window, deceived. He turned his head towards his bedroom door, remembering the crash that was heard beyond the four walls of his safe haven. He cautiously walked toward the door, opening it and entering the hallway. He stood at the top of his stairs, staring into the darkness below.
"Hello?" He called out, revealing his foolishness once again.
Arcadia froze, heart still pounding from the bloodcurdling scream that was heard only moments before.
She stood amongst the mass of shattered glass, eyes widened. Turning her head toward the sound, she stared upon the darkness that the staircase led to, saying nothing.
"Anyone there? Um, if you are…..get out, or I'll call the guards!" He yelled, yet again.
The Dunmer's eyes shifted toward the slightly ajar front door, her escape. She turned her body towards it, preparing to leave the scene and walk free of her crime.
As her mind made the decision to flee, she heard it again. Take me. Love me.
Slowly, cautiously, she turned her head to her desire, protected by the case of glass that refused to fall victim to her spell.
Quietly walking over to it, she cast the golden light upon the lock again, but to no avail.
She scowled, cursing herself for not practicing her Alteration skills enough. She pulled a lockpick from her pocket, desperately invading the security device with the tool.
Lucien stood behind the shopkeeper, sneering at his astonishing stupidity. His idiocy was making his plan that of a novice's mission; his life was not worthy of being taken by him, but alas, it had to be done.
Rindir made his way down the stairs, the unseen son of Sithis behind him. As the click of a lock opening was heard, he entered the shop, moonlight betraying the Dunmer thief to him.
The Wood Elf, upon seeing his latest customer, gasped, pointing at her. "You!" He said, voice grave, tainted with disgust. "I should have known you had no money, Waterfront scum! Guards, help! I'm being robbed! Help!"
Arcadia stood there, frozen once again, not noticing that the obstacle that ceased her from gaining her desire had been defeated. She opened her mouth to speak, to plead for mercy, when a sudden gleam of silver flashed before her eye, behind her accuser. Before she could react, blood was spewing from the mer's throat; his gasps for air and deliverance filled the room with misery, despair.
Arcadia's muscles tensed, heart beating out of time yet again. She watched helplessly as the Bosmer fell to his knees and died, blood painting the floor and nearby wall.
She did not scream, did not run; she merely stared at the lifeless corpse in utter shock.
Before she could succumb to the nausea that was brewing in the depths of her body, the sound of the door being slammed against the wall, heavy metal roughly clinking together was heard; she turned her head, only to be met with the furious eyes of the Imperial City Guards. They looked upon Rindir's dull existence, showing no emotion toward his death, yet scowling at the suspected murderer.
"Surrender, murderer!" Yelled one of the guards, "Or suffer the fate of your victim!"
Arcadia began to raise her hands in defeat, not able to find the voice that would claim innocence. Then, she heard it again.
Take me, It begged. Love me.
Arcadia, despite her fear and confusion, nodded, obeying the whisper inside her conscience. She withdrew the staff from its cage, aiming it at her pursuers.
"No," She objected, voice dark and far beyond that of what she would say, if not entranced. "You won't take me alive!"
She then channeled her arcane energy from her body to the staff, firing electrical projectiles towards the guardsmen; with each one that fell, another came in their place, as they continued to call to their comrades for aid. Rindir's Staffs had become the possession of a massacre.
And, as the Dark Elf's life unraveled droplet by droplet, Lucien Lachance watched behind the cloak of magic, grin widening with every life the thief stole.