Adrenaline rapidly coursed through her veins, causing her to sprint down the abandoned road, the sound of metal fiercely clanking together further motivating her speed; there were even more of them, now. Their swords were raised, craving to taste her flesh, their vengeance becoming a wild beast that demanded for her blood. Imprisonment was no longer an option. Death was to be her punishment.
Clutching the staff in her hand, she let out a raspy cry, no longer feeling the dark influence that'd caused her to steal so many lives; it'd abandoned her, leaving her confused, afraid. And she was alone, fleeing the Imperial City guardsmen, defiant of the law.
An arrow suddenly whisked past her, barely missing its target. Her heart reacted to the sight, beating forcedly within her chest, as if demanding freedom from its cage. Despite the tears that were streaming down her face, blurring her vision, she could see the desired destination before her; rancid, murky waters, grime, pirate ships, diminished shacks. Home.
Still able to hear the sharp and unintelligible shouts behind her, she continued to run straight ahead, refraining from turning left to the entrance of the shore, in which she lived; she refused to be seen running from the authorities, not by her neighbors, her fellow thieves. Not by her father.
Ignoring the shocked expressions on the pirates' faces, she ran past them, seeing the end of the road just ahead of her, the water waiting for her below.
Her muscles burned as she forced her steps to quicken, her surroundings darkening, frantic heartbeat overshadowing the shouting and her own panting.
She ran even faster, seeing that the road was about to end; she held her arms out in front of her, and leaped off the ledge, body becoming airborne.
The water eagerly greeted her, engulfing her into its cold depths, and she winced in pain, insides already beginning to shrivel from lack of oxygen. She quickly channeled her energy into a spell, the soft golden light shimmering around her, and she could breathe, air flowing through her lungs as if she were on dry land.
Heart still pounding within her chest, she looked upward, seeing nothing due to the darkness of the water. She remained dormant underwater, waiting until the guardsmen would deem her dead; she hoped she seemed insane enough to commit suicide, for if she arose to the surface alive, she would be dead before she could blink. The archers had most likely taken frontal positions upon the ledge.
A few moments passed, and she cast the spell upon herself again, breathing in the artificial air.
Now calm, she pushed herself upward, swimming away from the Waterfront, the guardsmen. She continued to swim until the water became shallow, her hands making contact with moist sand. And she stood, running, not stopping until she was hidden in the cluster of trees and bushes that stood upon the land, fearful that her Dunmer skin would reveal her if she remained unhidden.
Eventually she left the bushes, feet kissing the shore once again. She squinted her eyes, searching for her pursuers, and under the moonlight she saw the glint of their armor, shining in the night.
She found herself immobile, unable to hide herself once again; to their misfortune, they could not see her, and so they left the Waterfront, the gleam of their armor fading with each step that was taken.
Arcadia released a breath that she had not realized she was holding. When she gathered the nerve, she strapped her staff to her back and returned to the Waterfront, refusing to meet the gazes of the pirates that'd seen the incident. She heard their taunts and laughter, but ignored them, longing to feel her father's comforting embrace.
She stepped foot on Waterfront's residential area, the small handful of shacks tarnishing the water's misleading sparkling surfaces. They all stared at her, the beggars and thieves; she looked away from them and made her way towards her home, noticing that her hands were trembling uncontrollably.
She opened the door, and walked in, meeting the warm brown eyes of Armand Christophe. He said nothing as she entered; he merely gave her frightened eyes and shaking hands a quick glance, then stood from his chair, waiting for her to speak, expression stern and unforgiving.
And she did speak, voice coming out as a low, wavering mewl. "Daddy," She whimpered, and his eyes softened; she had not called him that since she was a child of ten.
Armand walked over to his little girl, and held her in his arms; she buried her face as much as she could in his chest, weeping in their embrace. He held her tighter, their colored skin mimicking the joining of the earth and sea.
He shushed her. "It's all right, girl. I'm here. I'm here." And she cried even more at his words, knowing that he was there, and always would be there for her, yet she would not have been there for him after that night, had she not been quick and dexterous enough to elude the law's advances. Despite all of the thieves that resided in the Waterfront, Armand and Arcadia only truly had each other. And she'd almost ruined that.
"I'm sorry," She sobbed. "I….I almost got killed today. I would have left you all alone."
He shook his head. "It's okay, Arcadia. I'm just glad you're all right."
She pulled away from him then, wiping at her tears. "Then why weren't you out there with everyone else, waiting for me? Why did you look so mad when I came in?"
"You know I don't like it when you got caught. That's why I looked disappointed. But I wouldn't have if I knew you were this upset. What happened? You're soaking wet."
Arcadia lifted her head, silken ebony locks clinging to her skin, droplets combining with her own tears. He pulled a few strands away from her forehead, looking into her eyes. "Cadie?"
Arcadia sighed, sullenly. It was a nickname, one that Armand only used when he was trying to coax her. She complied, but only partly so. "I stole a staff."
He raised an eyebrow, eying the arcane weapon. "That's all? Really? With all the uproar you'd think you killed somebody."
The Dunmer girl stiffened; were she any other form of mer or human, her cheeks would be flushed.
Armand's eyes widened. "You….didn't kill anyone, did you?"
Her shame silenced her. His face twisted into a disgusted scowl. "You know murder is against our ways, Arcadia. You're supposed to run."
She nodded pathetically, eyes drooped in remorse. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't good enough. No item is worth someone's life, Arcadia. I thought I raised you better than that!"
She began to tremble again, all over. "I'm sorry. It's just….I…."
The faint whisper interrupted her. Take me. Love me.
She closed her eyes, slowly, in denial of what she heard. She opened them, and continued. "I don't know what came over me. I wanted it so bad….I would have bought it, but it was too much. The….the Wood Elf Rindir…he just died. Someone slit his throat, but I didn't see…..and then the guards came. They thought I did it. But I wanted the staff so bad….and they-"
She stopped herself, in disbelief of what she was about to say.
"They were in my way,"
Armand shared her expression, eyes widened. "In your way?"
She nodded, then bit her lip, suddenly feeling unfamiliar with herself. What am I saying?
The Redguard shook his head, still in shock. "I can't believe this. When I found you, I never thought for one second that something like this would ever happen,"
He waited for her to respond. She said nothing.
He sighed. "We'll finish this later. Right now I need to have a talk with the Imperial Guard. Help them forget about this…..whatever this was."
He walked over to the chest by his bed, opening it, bringing forth a small bag that jingled when he placed it in his hands.
"I love you," He muttered, "And I'm glad you're okay. But this can't happen again. Learn to run. You should already know how to do that, but I guess not. If you can't do that, then you're out of the Guild. I'm sorry."
And with that, he left, leaving the girl alone in the shack, the air suddenly cold in summer's first midnight.
Behind the wooden walls, Lucien sneered at the advice the Redguard had given his adoptive daughter, once again questioning the commands of his mother.