!NOTE FROM LACHANCE!
I HATE SYLVIA MORE AND MORE, AND I'M ONLY ON THE SECOND CHAPTER... I'M NOT KIDDING, THIS WAS INCLUDED IN MY NOTES FOR THE PLAN:
IMPERIAL BITCH GETS IT.

"Good job, kid. Here's your wage. Go buy something nice." Mitrai always was a man of few words when offstage. His voice, when not performing, seemed almost drab in comparison to his booming tones, and sometimes, Phoenix felt almost sorry for the plump Bosmer man who had little to no talents himself except a large confidence. Usually, the two did not get along (due to their contending ego's) but when the Ringleader was handing out money, the youth always took care to be more pleasant. Last night, they'd performed the show outside Solitude, and the troupe were taking a day to wander round the vast city before packing up and moving on to Whiterun, then Riften, and finally Markarth, before heading back to Cyrodiil. This was their routine: stay a place for a night, the next day go shopping and wander around, stay another night, move on. Then, they took a six month break where Phoenix would scrounge for cash from Mitrai and stay with Thorn and his family. Some of the crew didn't come back for every annual tour, but Phoenix didn't have any other offers; the troupe was one of the last and best in Tamriel. He could always join the Bards College- he was a rather good singer... but he couldn't play anything.

Phoenix walked down the street with Thorn and Mercury by his side, looking at the various stalls full of luxuries, with a lazy smile on his face. It was a beautiful day, with a bright sun and warm air, with little to no breeze. Most people seemed to be walking around in a sleepy haze, mostly staring at him and the rest of the troupe. After last nights performance, they'd been the topic of gossip all throughout the city. "What d'you feel like doing?" he addressed his friends, as they walked under the bridge. Phoenix wasn't sure what to do with himself: on a day like that, all he really wanted to do was sit outside the city and have a picnic or something. However, there were things he needed to buy, and this gleaming jewel of a city was not something to be missed. "I want to buy some presents for my family... If that's alright." replied Thorn, in his pleasantly accented voice. The Nord boy was always more considerate than the other two, and a lot less sure of himself than Phoenix, although smarter than Mercury. They were an interesting trio: Phoenix was the natural leader, although by no means the biggest; Mercury looked too big and thuggish to be the stupid but sweet kid he really was; Thorn was tiny and looked meek, but was deadly if he wanted to be. "What sort of thing?" Phoenix said, stopping. The other two stopped with him, as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder back at the marketplace. "D'you mean the market sort of thing? Because if you do, then we should go back."

The small boy nodded his assent and so, with a shrug, Phoenix followed him back towards the mass of stalls, crowded with people. He could make out most of the troupe, although there were many, many citizens of Solitude too: buying, gossiping, going about their boring, average, everyday lives. It bored Phoenix, sometimes, which was why he had to be an acrobat and have that thrill... Pushing his way through the crowds, he kicked a young pickpocket in the face with contempt. "Watch yourself, brat," he spat, before continuing towards the stalls. Turning around, he saw Thorn and Mercury were beckoning at him, pointing towards a jewellery stand. A plump Argonian woman, heavily made-up, was standing behind the counter, smiling dimly, as she clicked ringed fingers on the counter. Phoenix ducked under the legs of passing strangers, and met them, as the smaller boy started to talk to the woman. He had a pink, beaded bracelet in one hand, and seemed to be bargaining with her. The blond boy slid in next to him, and watched for a few seconds, before feeling a hand on his arm. Turning around, he saw a girl a bit shorter than him standing there, a smile on her tanned face. He smiled, and felt himself blush, as Sylvia grinned at him.

"Hey! Buying jewellery? For a beau?" she said, batting her eyelashes. Fighting to stay confident, Phoenix shrugged bashfully, and shook his head. "No. I'm just waiting for Thorn here to get something for his sister or mother or aunt or grandma or-" he was rambling. He could hear himself rambling and couldn't quite work out why. Which of his parents had given him this trait- idiocy? Fighting to stay cool, he chuckled, and smiled down at her. Her soft brown hair fell to her shoulders in a sleek cut, and he had an urge to stroke it. It was bouncing as she laughed at him. Then, she turned around, and skipped off to find her friends, and he found himself becoming more and more flustered. Why had she come to say hello, asked him if he had a girlfriend, and left? What was the idea? Turning around, he saw his friends falling over laughing, and glared at them, storming off into the crowd in the opposite direction to Sylvia. He would spend the day alone, thanks.

Pride hurt, he wandered towards the docks. He knew if he went down there, he could watch the ships coming in and out of the harbour, and he liked that. He'd been on a boat only once before, and he'd adored the experience: he'd fished, dived, swam... Swimming was, after acrobatics, one of his favourite things to do. The freedom he could feel in the water almost matched the freedom he could feel in the air.

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"You alright son?" the sound of a Nordic voice brought Phoenix out of his stupor. He'd been sitting on the docks for at least an hour, dangling his bare feet in the cold, salty waves, and staring out to the distance. He turned his head around, and his blond hair swished in his eyes, and he pushed it away to glance at the haggard fisherman behind him. With a brief smile and a nod, he turned back around to stare into the sea once more, but realised that the man was sitting next to him. Almost uncomfortably close, in fact, although it didn't really bother the youth. He went on stage scantily clad, and was used to, after shows, people trying to molest him, so why not this man? It got tiresome, but, consumed with his teenage thoughts, he stared back out to sea. "You're Phoenix, right?"

"Yes." "I'm Destar" "Hello, Destar."

There was an awkward silence. The man opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, licking his dry lips with his tongue. Phoenix didn't particularly want to engage in conversation with the man. Nobody else was on the docks: the East Empire Company Warehouse didn't seem to be open. It was only the two of them, staring out to sea. Phoenix was feeling a little desperate, although not particularly worried- if he didn't reply, would the man just go away? He knew, from the man's demeanour, that he wanted something, although he wasn't sure whether it was a sexual favour or an autograph. Both were possible. People didn't just... Talk to him. They always wanted something. "I was at your show last night," Destar said, smiling at him. His hand was creeping towards Phoenix's leg... Yep, this man wanted a sexual favour. Well he could get in line, Phoenix thought bitterly, as he watched the hand crawl closer and closer towards him. "You were fantastic..."
"I'm 14. Try molesting someone your own age."

Phoenix stared at him, a frown on his face. What did this fool think he was going to accomplish by molesting him? He was in a brooding mood, and he knew his temper could snap at any second... He certainly wasn't in the mood to be raped. It had happened twice before, and he was quite used to it, although it disgusted him... He was broken, in a sexual respect, and shocked at how revolting some people were. If he got up now and ran back to the market... Hastily getting up, he started to walk away from the man, hands in his pockets in an attempt to look natural... But then, with a yell, he felt someone grabbing his feet in a tackle, and fell to the ground, smashing his face into the wooden harbour. Whirling around, he saw Destar standing over him, a malicious gleam in his eyes, as he towered over him, advancing on the boy.

"You don't want to have some fun?" the disgusting man sneered, and kicked Phoenix hard in the stomach. He hissed in pain and anger, as he was pinned to the dock by the man's foot. Writhing, he managed to free himself, and rolled over the platform, between the man's legs. Raising a fist upwards, he punched him hard in the crotch and, getting up, kicked him in the back, forcing him to the floor. Usually this would stop someone, but the fisherman was riled and leapt to his feet, face now an ugly red. "You'll regret that, you son of a-" a fist came smashing towards his face, and Phoenix ducked the blow, but was caught with another in the stomach, and was thrown over the East Empire Company Warehouse desk, smashing into a shelf. For a moment he lay, dazed, with dozens of different, strange, imported things around him, before he staggered to his feet. Fear was coursing through him; he had to get away! He didn't want to feel that pain! He could feel tears in his eyes: why hadn't he just stayed with Mercury and Thorn, and this would never have happened!

Destar was walking towards him now, a furious look on his ugly, paunchy face. He twisted his lips up into a leer, before kicking Phoenix in the stomach, winding him, and forcing him backwards against the wall. Terror was now filling him as, wide-eyed, he saw the rough fisherman's hands going to his trousers. But a sudden strength filled him as he kicked forwards, as his foot connected with the man's stomach. He was not trained in fighting, but his years of acrobatics had made him strong, and Phoenix watched as the man recoiled, clutching his stomach. Now was the time to run, and Phoenix tried to, hobbling at quite some speed towards the door... Destar was too quick for him though, as Phoenix was injured and the fisherman now had the upper hand, because he drove his knuckles into the back of the youth's head. He screamed in pain, shutting his eyes as he readied himself to be violated... Wait. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a gleam of metal... A dagger! And Destar was walking towards him, hastily unzipping his trousers, readying himself to violate the teen... But the acrobat could reach the blade, from his position on the floor, could reach it with ease... But kill a man?

His thoughts were flooding: what could he do? Grab the blade in the defence of his... of his life? He doubted Destar would kill him, but... Making up his mind, he threw himself across the floor in a last ditch attempt, and grasped the dagger. Twisting himself around, and seeing the man bearing down on him, Phoenix shut his eyes, heart pumping against his chest, counted to three... And thrust the blade forward into his attacker's chest. He could feel blood splattering on his face, as again and again he stabbed, hearing screams of agony, and the feeling of blood and flesh hitting his face... Was this it? His green eyes still shut, blood coating him, Phoenix wondered...

People said that killing a person was like having your soul split into pieces. That it physically hurt... This didn't hurt. The only person it was hurting was Destar. Perhaps it was because he was only doing it in defence? Because Destar might not even be dead yet? He... he would have to look at some point, to see the carnage he'd created...

Slowly, his hands slippery with blood, he dropped the dagger onto the floor, and with his hands, prised open his eyelids, and saw what he had done.

The man was lying on the floor, trousers half unzipped, hands covering his face, and red liquid staining his white shirt crimson. Blood. Through the rips that Phoenix had made in his shirt, the youth could see gaping wounds, spewing all kinds of bodily fluids... Destar was dead alright. But where was the pain? Where was the soul-splitting agony?

"I killed him in self defence," Phoenix muttered to himself, not looking at his blood-stained hands in the fear that he would throw up. His heart was beating hard against his ribcage, and he felt a little sick... It was defence! Defence of his virgini- oh wait. Err, defence of his life? He could argue that the man might have tried to kill him, or he could have died of pain... Oh Gods. What had he done. "It was self defence! I did nothing wrong!" He was almost crazed, shouting to himself. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster, bile rising in his throat... But no searing pain. And, the longer he looked at the body, the less sick he felt. Swallowing the bile, he gained the courage to look down at himself, and swore. "Bullshit." Phoenix whispered, seeing the state of his clothes. He was covered in blood! Bloodstained! People could see the proof of his deed, now, see it on his clothes! But then... he was in the East Empire Company Warehouse. There might be clothes in here... Clothes he could exchange for his own, bloodied clothes. He would have to destroy the evidence though... Rational thoughts, like he had killed in defence, left his mind. He was a murderer now...

And he didn't feel any pain at all.

Sweating profusely, he stripped off completely, and tore his clothes into shreds, throwing them into the ocean. He was so lucky nobody had come at Destar's screaming... Running back into the Warehouse, he yanked open a barrel, and found apples. Becoming more and more desperate, he ran towards the other side of the room, slipped in the blood onto the floor, and remembered that it was not only his clothes that were covered in blood. Running outside, he leaped straight into the sea, and nearly leaped straight out again as the freezing cold water enveloped his body. For a few moments, he treaded water, before ducking down under the surface, and washing himself completely of blood. What if someone came? he thought, as he ran his hands through his bloodied hair.

After a minute or so, he ran back into the warehouse, jumped over the growing red puddle, and began to search through the crates. Weapons... cabbages... leather armour... clothes! A great sack of them, all new by the looks of it! With a joyous grin, he dug his hand in, and pulled out a green tunic that was ever so slightly too large for him, some black leggings, and soft leather boots, pulling them on one by one. Then, sprinting down the stairs and pushing his sopping wet hair out of his eyes, he paused for a second to look at the body one more time. The body of a rapist, and a pedofile... Dead, like a sow, lying in his own blood, wallowing in his own filth.

And then, the thought that changed his entire life occured to him, and he spoke it out loud, as slowly, a smile came to his lips at last.

"The bastard deserved it." and with that, he spat on the corpse.

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Phoenix walked into his tent, to find Thorn and Mercury lying on their bedrolls, waiting for him. His heart had not stop pounding since the last words he had spoken ("The bastard deserved it"), and he wasn't sure he could take having a normal conversation with his friends. They were watching him curiously: two pairs of eyes, one pair grey, one pair amber, were following his every moment as he stomped towards his bedroll and threw himself down on it. "New clothes." observed Mercury, raising his thick eyebrows. Phoenix, who was not in the mood to be forgiving towards Mercury's dim persona, smiled ironically, and flourished his hands in a mock imitation of Mitrai. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Men and Mer, Children and Elders, come see the Phoenix Bird in his new clothes!" he said sarcastically, sitting up and glaring fiercely at them. Thorn chuckled. "Somebody's defensive," he teased. Then, his tone turned apologetic. "Sorry about Sylvia... She came looking for you again. Thought she'd upset you."
"Fuck Sylvia."

He was slightly disquieted. The words had left his mouth before he'd intended them to: they sounded harsh, bitter, angry. And truly, that was how he felt: he didn't care about Sylvia, at that moment. He probably would in a few hours; he'd regret ever saying "fuck her" but at that moment in time, he just wanted to be alone. Maybe he'd take his bedroll out and sleep under the stars... no. He'd feel tormented by the spirit of the dead man.

They'd probably found the body, by then. He'd discarded the dagger, destroyed his clothing... there was no way anyone could find out it was him who did the deed. Still, even if they did, the man was trying to rape him! That's a pretty good excuse for murder. Even if he had... well... not minded it. When he thought back, he realised he'd got a certain rush as the knife went into the man's gut... No. He was crazy for sure. How could anyone... enjoy murder?

He knew that Thorn and Mercury were still watching him, wide-eyed and confused. He felt like he owed them an explanation, somehow. He must seem suspicious. With a sigh, he rolled over to face them. "I was pissed off, so I went into Radiant Raiment and bought myself some new clothes. I'm just angry and tired, because we have to leave for Whiterun tomorrow, and I can't be bothered to face the horse ride with someone clinging to my back. Okay?" and with that, he stripped off quickly, and once he was just in his underwear, slipped under the covers of his bed, and slammed his eyes shut. His tent-mates were still talking, but Phoenix blocked out his ears to their mindless chatter.

All he could think about was the way the blade had felt as it slipped into Destar's gut.

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Astrid dangled her legs over the world. The Void was a strange place; and at that moment, she was floating over a small replica of Nirn, as she had requested. But her sharp eyes, enhanced with mystical, legendary powers that only the dead know, were watching Phoenix with an air of pride in them. "First kill." she whispered to herself, as she remembered her own first life-taking. Her uncle had tried to touch her... So she'd touched him. Well, specifically, his heart, as she'd torn it from his chest. Little details like that kept her going, and she smiled in delight. He'd even enjoyed it, her little Lukos had. Lukos. That would always be his name to her: not that gaudy title Phoenix that he'd been given. Such a strange childhood he'd had: kidnapped by Silvanus' brother, and when he was killed by bandits on the road, rescued by a CIRCUS TROUPE, no less, who were nearby. Not a bad childhood, an acrobat, not bad at all. Well, it may be if Phoenix was not a born acrobat, as he was, but considering his talent... From her side of the family, obviously, she chuckled to herself. Although she was sad that he hadn't been raised by her and Silvanus or, at least Scarlett.

She watched Scarlett sometimes, too. Generally, she split her time watching Nirn between Scarlett and Lukos; usually, Silvanus joined her. They would just sit and observe: glory in their victories, cry at their tragedies... Scarlett could sense them, Astrid thought. Occasionally, when they were laughing at her, the girl (or woman, as she now was) would inexplicably do a rude gesture at the sky. Either she was angry at a bird (which was somehow unlikely) or she could feel that unearthly people were laughing at her...

And Scarlett wasn't exactly earthly herself, anymore. 7 years ago, when Scarlett was 21, she'd allowed Babette to bite her. And now, the Mistress and Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood was a vampire, who would eternally look 21. Not the worst lot in life, being youthful and beautiful forever. Scarlett even had children now: Obsidias, Charon, Electra, and Xaphan, who were gifts from Sithis, and also another little girl who nobody was sure of the fatherhood. Xindal, Mortas, Nazir, another gift from Sithis... Nobody really knew.

Silently, Astrid missed her children, and felt her unbeating heart bleed for them. The son who she would never meet. The daughter who she had left behind.

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Like I said, I'm not abandoning Astrid and Silvanus. Lachance xxx

ps. Reviews are appreciated :)