BAN IS GAELIC FOR WHITE, SO YOU KNOW. SORRY, I'VE BEEN LEARNING IT FROM MY GRANDMOTHER AND I COULDN'T HELP GETTING INTO IT. HEH, YOU MIGHT SEE A BIT OF DEATH-NOTE INFLUENCED MATERIAL IN THIS CHAPTER... EXCUSE ME PLEEEASSE
The boy with pure white hair sipped his tea, dipping one, pale finger into the liquid to stir the sugar up from the bottom. The white powder reached the surface, and he smiled, his faded pink lips dragging themselves into a twisted smirk. Everything was wrong with this boy, from his childish features to the dead look in his deep black eyes. Those were the eyes of someone who has seen the world... and the corruption that bites away at it.
He sat in a small room; completely sterile and free of furniture, apart from the small, rickety chair that he sat upon. The white china cup of tea that he held within his small, monkey like hands was full to the brim with steaming tea. Although he'd been drinking it for the last few hours, somehow it was still hot and almost completely full. And that was how he liked it. There were other drinks that the boy preferred to tea, but it was a reasonable substitute for other, more satisfying beverages... Ones that could be drunk straight from the flesh. With a quiet chuckle, he placed the cup on the floor and got to his feet. For a moment, he was unsteady, having not stood for several hours. Then, with a contented sigh, he began to pace the room.
"You should stay still. Don't want to aggravate them." although the voice came out of mid-air, it did not alarm the child. In fact, a look of relaxation came over his face, and a smile warped his features once more. The boy was chilling to see; his smile looked too big for his face. His white hair was totally devoid of colour, and his face was completely white. His black eyes were so dark that you could practically disappear into them, and were far too big for his thin face. He was... not unattractive. But neither was he handsome. "Ban? Do you hear me, boy?"
"I hear you, spirit." Ban replied, and a look of slight annoyance crossed over his face, before being replaced with that same, odd grin. It was like he hadn't quite mastered smiling. "But I don't chose to follow your instructions... They will let me free. And when they do, I'll feast on their quivering remains. I can feel it in my bones." Walking over to the wall, he rested his head against it, and thumped his fist against the plaster. It made a hollow thunk, and Ban realised how thin the walls were. But there was no need for him to escape: he knew that his captors would let him free at some point. However, he turned around when he heard a laugh from nowhere, and narrowed his eyes. "Laughing at me, spirit? Don't think I'll do it? You've seen me kill too many times before... Corrupted my soul, like a maggot does a fresh apple. I can take pleasure from blood on my hands. I can take joy from the look of life draining from eyes. It gives me my happiness to murder, to send souls to you. And if I don't..."
"You'll die too." "Indeed."
They both laughed, the strange boy and the spirit. For a moment, Ban just stood in his cell, laughing maniacally. Then, leaning down, he picked up the tea again, and raised it in a sort of salute, before bringing it to his lips and taking a mouthful. Then, wiping his mouth, his good mood suddenly gone, he tossed the cup across the room. It hit the wall and with a loud smash, shattered into dozens of tiny pieces. A look of fury on Ban's face, he fell to his knees and began gathering the pieces, muttering a strange chant under his breath. The china was cutting his hands, lots of little cuts biting into his skin, and blood began to run freely down his hands, splashing onto the floor. With a groan of ecstasy, he looked down at the red liquid cascading from his cut palms and watched it with crazed hunger. Slowly, he ducked his head to lick the blood away, sighing with pleasure as the sweet taste entered his mouth. Eyes opened wide, he began to mutter in a strange language only he understood; rocking back and forth on his knees as the blood dribbled onto the floor. Blood and tea mixed, creating a strange, reddy brown liquid. Sinking his head to the floor, Ban began to lap it up.
"So perfect..." he whispered into the floor, caressing it with his bloodied hand. Then, suddenly, he sat up, both his face, tongue, and hands bleeding heavily. Impatiently wiping it away, he bared his teeth in an inhuman smile. His eyes flashed red for a mere second, before he grunted in pain, looking down at the shredded flesh of his palms. Shaking his head, Ban wiped them on his white shirt, leaving red marks dragging along it. "What madness consumed me then?" the boy asked nobody in particular, staring in disgust at his blood on the floor. "Sanguine? Or perhaps Sheogarath... Or did my master himself take the time to possess me to drink my own blood?" the last comment was sarcastic, as he went back to sit on the chair, kicking shards of china aside. "Ever since I was summoned, life's been nothing but trouble. Daedra possessing me and making me perform misdeeds for their own amusement..." he was talking to himself by that point, disgusted at the red liquid covering him. "I'm filthy." Ban said, dark eyes glinting. "And I need blood and flesh that isn't my own... Must've been Namira, if she wanted me to consume my own flesh... My own warm, living flesh..."
Feeling a strange hunger come over at him, he looked at his skin with a look of desire. "So pure..." Slowly, he ran his pink tongue across the skin. The slightly sugary taste of his skin made him shudder with delight. Then, realising what he was doing, he looked away with disgust at the spirit being only he could see. "Spirit, who is controlling me?" then, zoning out again, he licked the spot he had before pleasured with his tongue, then sank his teeth into the flesh. With a howl of agony, he spiralled onto the floor, hissing with pain as blood welled up from where he had bitten into his own body. "Bullshit!"
"Crude mortal." the spirit said, but it's voice was not angered. It sounded more amused than anything. Then, Ban, in his whirlwind of pain, heard the snap of fingers. "Leave the poor fool be." and then, the pain instantly disappeared from Ban's pain wracked body. With a sigh of relief, he curled into a little ball, nursing the wounds that covered his body. Whimpering, he nursed himself for a few moments, before staggering to his feet, a token scowl on his face.
"When am I allowed out?" Ban hissed, looking wildly around the plain room, searching for a door. But there wasn't one. With a cry of anger, he threw himself against the wall, making a hollow thud. He could feel the spirit's eyes upon him, as he screamed out, "LET ME OUT!"
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Phoenix shot out of bed, clutching at the covers. It was pitch black in the sanctuary, and all he could hear was the gentle sound of the other assassins breathing... breathing. Like their contracts do not have the power to do. But he'd been woken for a reason; from the twisted realities of his dreams, a scream had wrenched him back into reality. A high, loud scream... a woman's scream. It hadn't been nearby, it had been muffled... so who had it been? Had one of the assassins snuck out into the torture chamber to do some late night killing? Reaching over to his bedside table, Phoenix found a box of matches and scuffled with it in the dark, eventually coming up with one. Lighting it, he reached onto the floor and pulled up a lamp, which he proceeded to light, then blew the match out. With a weak gleam emanating from the lamp, the youth was able to see his way. Somehow, the scream had frightened him... he wanted to know who it was who had screamed. He was drifting through the realms of sleep and awake, still, and staggered as he went towards the door. Swishing the lamp back into the room, he saw all of the beds were occupied... so who had screamed? He should probably wake Babette... No.
So, stumbling, Phoenix walked out of the bedroom and into the main room where the assassins ate. It wasn't as black in there, but it was unlit and dark. The scream... the Speaker had screamed. It must have been her; unless it was in his imagination, which he was certain it wasn't. Should he wake the others? Perhaps there was an attack on the sanctuary... but he couldn't hear shouting. A nightmare? Maybe he should bring her something... Looking around the room distractedly, Phoenix walked over to the cupboard that held alcohol, and rummaged around in it. Then, with a low chuckle, he took his hand away, as if burned. "Can't drink yet, can I?" he asked himself, before shrugging and pulling out a bottle of something with a dusty sheen and a twisty cork. Then, he pulled two cups from the cupboard and pocketed them. He would give Scarlett the drink... but she wouldn't give a shit if he had something to drink too, would she?
It took Phoenix a while to get up the stairs, as it had before, and it was... it was scarier in the dark. He could just imagine spirits leaping out at him, or skeletons clawing at his feet... he trod carefully, and at every single creak, leapt about a mile in the air. Although he was a vampire and could see reasonably in the dark, this power seemed to have to be activated, somehow, and the boy wasn't quite sure how to do it. Babette had been teaching him how to drink blood effectively without killing, etcetera, but it was all more difficult than it looked. In the two days he'd been in the sanctuary, he'd used up countless torture victims, each dying with many puncture holes all over their pale necks. Babette had laughed, and called him "the worst vampire she had ever seen", but she'd been affectionate as she'd said it. The others were ruthless: Nazir, Mortas, and Xindal, especially, were controlling and when training him, challenged him and disrespected him at every hurdle. Phoenix hadn't seen Scarlett apart from at meal times, and even then he hadn't had the oppurtunity to talk to her. Strangely, he was finding some sort of solace in her company, even if she didn't directly speak to him. She was supposed to be training him, as Speaker and Mistress, but she'd always given the job to others. And it annoyed him, because he desperately seeked her company. Although he had deep feelings for Babette, there was something strange he felt for Scarlett... he was not sure if it was romantic. Intrigued, perhaps, and slightly terrified. But there was an odd feeling of... safety when he was with her. Safety, comfort, and... home?
When he finally reached the top of the stairs, he saw a light flickering in Scarlett's room. Her room was a door that led off from her study, and it was slightly ajar. Phoenix couldn't hear any noise inside, but he could see her shadow through the tiny gap. She was sitting on her bed, with her head in her hands... The youth wasn't sure whether he wanted to go in or not; he wasn't entirely sure that knocking wouldn't cause him instant death. At least he knew his leader wasn't dead, for one thing. He brought up his hand to knock, but at the last second stopped himself with a violent tremor running through his body. It truly was scary, up here, and he wasn't sure whether he should go in or not... whether she'd be angry at him for disturbing her. Phoenix hadn't seen Scarlett angry, yet, and Babette had warned him not to aggravate her himself. According to the young vampire, she was a sight to see when infuriated.
Shutting his eyes and gripping the bottle in one hand hard enough to shatter it, Phoenix brought up his left hand to knock on the door and slowly, he did so. The noise echoed through the dark hallways, making the youth flinch at the sound. His heart beating faster and faster at her silence, he wondered whether he should run away and pretend that nothing had ever happened. He was even bracing himself for a sprint, when a hand curled around the door, and pulled it open. A splash of light illuminated Phoenix, reminding him that, ever since he left his lantern in the room downstairs, he had been walking in complete darkness... Strange. Maybe his vampiric powers were kicking in after all.
Scarlett stood in the doorway, head tilted to one side, a weary smile on her beautiful face. Without her makeup, she looked... younger, to say the least. As she was at that moment, wearing a simple black shift and with her blonde hair completely down and her face slightly pink, she could have passed for a girl of sixteen. Heavy eyelids almost shut, she surveyed him with sleepy eyes. She did not look frightened. But Phoenix certainly felt it.
"Evening, brother." she said companionably, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. "A little late for a meeting, isn't it?" Scarlett yawned, showing a pink, pointed tongue and sharp incisors. Although she had seemed sweet in this meeting, so far, Phoenix could see the deadliness in her red eyes as she watched him carefully. The yawn had been a threat, that he could tell: showing him her sharp teeth, almost like a challenge. Or perhaps it had just been a yawn. Gods, he wasn't sure at that moment what anything was.
"I... I heard... heard a..." he was stuttering. Fantastic. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried again. "I heard a scream, and I came up wondering if you wanted a dri-" he was cut off, as hands found their way round his throat. With a squeak, Phoenix was dragged into the air, off his feet. Then, he was slammed violently against the door frame and held there, feet clean off the floor, struggling like a fish out of water. For a moment, the youth wasn't sure what was going on, as his windpipe was being crushed by strong, practically inhuman hands. A face was centimetres away from his face... pale skin, red eyes, blonde hair... but what was Scarlett doing? Her hands tightened round his throat and with a sadistic smile, she began to strangle him. Stars appeared and disappeared in front of his eyes, as he struggled to scream, but her hands had found his voice box and was squeezing, making it impossible for him to make a sound...
She'd effectively paralysed him.
Fear ran through him; terror, as he tried to kick and found that his legs had gone numb, somehow. As he was a vampire, no blood pounded in his ears, but a low whistling was coming through his ears as he struggled to breathe, struggled for his life... And then she let go of him. Phoenix fell to the floor with a quiet thunk, and nursed his aching neck, finding little marks on his skin where her fingers had dug in enough to mark... Gasping for air, he lay on the floor, staring at her bare feet, inches away from his nose. Then, closing his eyes, he bobbed his head back and forth, wheezing copiously and trying not to die. His whole body HURT; why had she attacked him for no reason? What was going on?
Scarlett knelt down, and the boy felt cool fingers raising his chin. Agonised, he opened his eyes, to see what her own eyes held... Nothing. A blank stare... with a smile? A cruel, twisting smile, with her pink lips slightly parted. She'd attacked him, another member of the Dark Brotherhood, and felt good about it? Then, another thought occured to him. She'd broken a tenet! She'd attacked one of her own brothers... ooh, when he told... Then, he realised something. Who would he tell? Scarlett was the most senior member of the Dark Brotherhood still alive. He couldn't report her to herself. "Why... did... you... DO that?" Phoenix managed to wheeze out, not caring that for his rudeness he may be tortured. She'd tried to kill him! Held him in a strangle hold, paralysed him... then a strange sound met his ears. It was laughter. A quiet chuckle, practically pulsating with darkness and evil. Slowly, Phoenix brought his eyes up to meet her own, and dreaded what she might be thinking. Was she insane? Should he run?
"You, brother," Scarlett said, holding out her hand and grasping his own to raise him to his feet. "Have just failed your first test. Always be ready. You're lucky. You're strong. Some of the other new recruits have died in my little..." she giggled like a schoolgirl. "First test, so to say. Usually, it's pass or die. You are the exception." Phoenix didn't understand. It had all been a test? What? Why were these people, these insane people, constantly testing him? Babette had tested him, and he had sort of passed that one, save for an emotional break down. And now, he'd failed, after being attacked out of the blue by the most talented assassin on Nirn. This HADN'T been the first test; Babette had tested him by encouraging him to attack her. Or was that official?
Mind buzzing, he looked at the woman in front of him with confused eyes. She was crazy; there was nothing else to it. He could see the door, perhaps he could escape... but her sharp eyes were watching him like a hawk, and the youth realised that she would have passed her "test" to always be ready. By the Gods, she was ready. Maybe could even read his mind. The thought unnerved him immensely. As did the cat like smile that followed that thought.
"Don't be upset about it." she said, shrugging and leaning against the wall in a casual pose. It was strange to think that just a few moments ago, she'd been trying to kill him. "You didn't fight me back, which isn't so good, but neither did you die. You're a survivor. I like that." the last sentence came out in a purr. Phoenix swallowed, and wondered if she was flirting with him on purpose to irritate Babette. But Babette wasn't there. So what was she doing? "I wasn't planning to test you tonight, but the oppurtunity raised itself, so I took it." the woman bit her lip, then laughed again. "I'm guessing you woke up because I screamed?"
He nodded the affermative. It wasn't worth lying to her; if he was correct, she could most probably read his mind. "I... I did. I'm sorry. I'll go." why was he suddenly talking in such short sentences, and stuttering, too? He was getting just as crazy as the whole lot of them. Maybe insanity was a catchable disease. But Scarlett shook her head, and, walking across the room, opened the door to her room. Nodding at the bottle and glasses, inexplicably placed on her map table, she grinned.
"If you've got drink, you're always welcome."
It was Phoenix's turn to laugh, as he turned to scoop up the alcohol and glasses, and followed her into her room, kicking the door shut behind him. It was a medium sized room, not the size of the shared dormitory downstairs, with a double bed, wardrobe, desk with a comfortable looking chair, an iron safe with god knows what in it, and several weapon racks. Also, a table and two chairs. Scarlett was lounging in one of them, head tipped to one side, with one leg over the side of the chair. Phoenix went to sit down in the chair opposite, and dropped the bottle and cups on the table. She grinned.
"What?" he asked, which just made her grin wider. Rolling her eyes, she leaned forwards to an almost uncomfortably close distance, and said, shaking her head,
"So damn pure." Phoenix frowned. What exactly did she mean by that? By no means was he a virgin, although he'd never had sex willingly, but he was no prude or anything. He would happily take her any day. So why was she calling him "pure" of all words? Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, and she whispered, "You don't like killing. You don't like the feel of blood on your hands, and your victim's screams. So my question is, brother, why be an assassin?" Scarlett's voice was literally honey. Phoenix could have lapped it up, but he was feeling himself going red. She sensed his discomfort, and with a laugh, leant backwards again to lounge on her seat. BABETTE, Phoenix thought, but he couldn't stop himself lusting after this evil, evil bitch.
Then, she leant forwards again, and poured the wine into the two glasses, taking one for herself and gesturing for him to do the same. Hesitantly, he did so, and took a sip. He barely stopped himself doing a double take. It was strong, heady stuff; the sort of drink you have if you're planning to get drunk. He didn't like the taste, and wanted to spit it back out, but couldn't without looking unprofessional. So he gulped it down, trying his best not to pull a face seeing as she seemed to relish hers.
"So answer my question, Phoenix." she said. Narrowing her eyes, she rocked back and forth on her chair, clearly waiting for an answer. She was becoming impatient, and an impatient, extremely deadly assassin was not what he needed. He pondered for a second, asking himself the same question... why DID he become an assassin? Seemingly unpleased, Scarlett sniffed and shut her eyes, lolling her head back, exposing her neck... the pale flesh there beckoned to him, asking him to bite it, to sink his teeth into it and taste the blood there... He licked his lips. Then, quickly, she opened her eyes with a delighted smile. "So that's the reason!" she grinned, shaking her head with pleasure. "Vampiric bloodlust, want to get blood and get paid... real package, vampiric assassin. But I warn you, I have no blood beating in my veins for you to have, or I'd give it freely. I've poisoned my veins, and any vampire who attempts to take my blood... will die. Follow me."
Putting the glass down on the table, she got to her feet, and walked towards the wall. Intrigued, Phoenix put down his own glass and watched her, a frown on his face. What was she doing?
She was whispering something, strange words that he couldn't quite make out... a dark aura was coming off her, practically visible, as she pressed her hands against the wall and whispered the words... And suddenly, with a heavy thud, the wall began to open. Splitting in two, the wall folded in on itself. Turning around, Scarlett raised her hand, and gestured for him to follow.
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!NOTE FROM LACHANCE!
First chapter in aaaaaaages! Over 4000 words, so it makes up for it I hope :) I will be updating regularly now my exams/jubilee/EVERYTHING is over. Sorry about the complete lack of updates and lack of updating my profile. I NEED TO DO IT MORE OFTEN!
Astrid xxx