Zarissis decided to follow Vicente's advice and ask for help on her contract from her Sisters. It proved to be a shockingly difficult task, as it seemed everyone was always running to and from the Sanctuary on various missions.
Fortunately, or somewhat unfortunately for her, Tel and Gogron assumed her absence from breakfast was an indication that she was out on a contract, not visiting with Vicente. Zarissis entered the Living Quarters with the intention of packing for Bruma, silently counting off the things she would need for her trip, before she stopped in her tracks. Tel had her arms around Gogron and was kissing him noisily while he struggled to remove her bra band.
Gogron was the first to notice her. "Oh hey there, Zarissis! We thought you were on a contract," he chortled, despite Tel's embarrassed gasp. Quickly she pressed herself into his arms, as though trying to retain some modesty. It wasn't like Zarissis hadn't seen her before in various states of undress, but she supposed that was different.
Perhaps she would have been more embarrassed had her fiasco with Vicente not occurred earlier that day, but instead Zarissis simply shuffled her feet and looked to the ceiling, attempting not to stare at the two. It seemed that coupling was not a rare occurrence in the Sanctuary.
"I'm going to be leaving for a contract in a bit. I just need to, ah, grab some of my things. Is that okay? Then you can resume…whatever you were doing." Finally, the start of a blush was beginning to rise into her cheeks, but luckily the dim candlelight of the room hid that fact. She especially did not want to think about what they were in the middle of, although it was quite obvious. If she thought about that, then she'd think about the fingertips of another on her face…
She could practically hear the grin in Gogron's voice. "Sure thing! Just hurry up, though. I have some unfinished business to attend to." Almost with inhuman speed, Zarissis flew to her bed, much to the amusement of Gogron. Tel remained quiet, simmering with her own shame at having been caught in such a carnal act.
It was only in the process of gathering supplies that Zarissis realized she didn't own a heavier coat, and if the tales she heard of Bruma were true, then the flimsy fabric of her dresses would do nothing to quell the cold. Clearing her voice carefully, she dared to ask, "Gogron, how cold is Bruma?"
It was not Gogron who answered first however. Tel's voice finally squeaked from over the Orc's shoulder. "Is that where your next target is?" She did not bother to hide her excitement as she peered over Gogron's shoulder, now completely immersed in her Sister's next job.
Zarissis nodded and launched into a description of her contract, from the manservant to mounted head and Baenlin's own schedule that put him sitting under the head at night. By this point Tel had put her shirt back on, and was sitting next to Gogron with her legs swung over the bed, listening intently and nodding.
As she finished speaking, Gogron scratched his chin. "The manservant's name is Gromm, you say? Sounds like a Nord. Probably a big one. If he catches you, get ready for a serious fight."
Tel nodded in agreement, resting her head against his arm. "Don't expect to enter this man's house through the front door. Be smart and look for a more conspicuous entrance, like a cellar."
She'd have to be sure to scout around the perimeter then. Before she had a chance to repeat her previous question, Tel confirmed that yes, Bruma is quite cold for someone who isn't Gogron. This made Zarissis frown. She did have her trusty old travelling cloak, but holes had started to wear into the dark green fabric. It was far too thin to keep out the chill that came from snow, but just enough to give a little warmth from the wind.
She sighed. Her coin purse was much lighter than it had been since her stop in the Imperial City. She knew that maybe she ought to have considered buying a cloak while she was there, but Cheydinhal and her old home in Leyawiin were not prone to freezing temperatures. Leyawiin was somewhat more tepid than Cheydinhal, but the minor difference in temperature hadn't bothered Zarissis. The Sanctuary was usually nice and warm – most likely magically heated.
I can always ask Vicente for a cloak, she reminded herself. She'd just been with him earlier, but now she feared he'd be sleeping. Would he be angry if she woke him? The thought made her frown. She still felt very childish before him, and his anger would scare her dearly.
She had seen him angry before, usually at Antoinetta for her high-pitched squealing. His ears were far more sensitive than mortal ears, and so it seemed to be a common agreement that loud noises and the like were best kept to the mess hall and training room where Vicente was far less likely to hear it. Unfortunately, being the resident vampire meant that Vicente was asleep when everyone else was usually awake – the exception being Zarissis, who seemed to spend more of her waking hours at night. She told herself this had to do with the need to report her contracts to him, and not because she stayed up all night enveloped in conversations with him.
Her bag was finally packed, with the exception of a small ration of food, and Zarissis quickly scrambled from the room; she did not intend to stick around to witness the sound of their lovemaking. Standing in the center of the Sanctuary, she stared at the hall that led to Vicente's room, watching, deep in debate with herself. Would she risk waking him up? Or could she bear the frigid flurries of Bruma?
With a heavy heart, she sighed and slowly picked her way down the corridor. As expected, no light shone in the small crack beneath Vicente's door. She lifted her hand, intending to knock, but froze. Her hand lowered, and she stood staring at the door, chewing her lip. Again she raised her hand, but her arm slowly lowered as hesitation set in again. She was afraid of bothering him, but unable to tear herself from the spot.
She was deep in troubled contemplation when the door creaked open, shadows opening before her. Zarissis gasped, unable to help herself.
Vicente stood before her, hair billowing over his shoulders and tangling in spots. She clutched her bag hastily, commanding her eyes to stay on his face so she wouldn't notice his state of dress…or lack therefore. He wore pants of course, but it was still enough to prove distracting.
He didn't look angry…rather, amused. Perhaps somewhat confused, judging by the wrinkles on his forehead as he furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes? Have you come for something?" After a moment of stunned silence on her part, he quipped, "Perhaps a good bye kiss?"
Zarissis flushed intensely, torn from her stupor. "I just need a cloak. For Bruma."
Inwardly she winced at her words. She sounded like a fool, unable to form coherent sentences when placed in front of a half-dressed male. It's not just any half-dressed male, she reminded herself. This was Vicente, her savior, her boss, a vampire, and a million other things she couldn't put into words. He was older and more experienced than her in all things, and despite that he seemed so thin, she knew the power that lay within. Vampires were not rumored for their strength for nothing.
He seemed to consider her for a moment, as though sizing up the daintiness of her figure. After a long pause of observation he disappeared into the darkened room.
Inside, Vicente hummed in amusement. He had been lying on the stone slab, waiting for the clutches of darkness to take him. He hadn't been asleep, however; his mind had been far too occupied with the prospects of the day.
Vampires were prone to obsessive behavior, and Vicente knew that he was no exception. Granted, compared to most he had his primal side well controlled; however he could not simply shut out all aspects of the beast. He knew he was becoming engrossed with the small Breton when his thoughts wandered to her, recalling the shape of her chin and slope of her neck. It was a dangerous pursuit, that much he knew, but he had lived long enough to know when there was no turning back.
Perhaps it was by a twist of fate that she found herself by his door that afternoon. He had simply laid on his slab, listening to the delicate beat of her heart beyond the door, a small smile graced on his lips. He had at first wondered why she didn't knock but quickly realized it was out of thoughtfulness.
Vicente would have rushed to the door, but he relished the feeling of having a little secret. For those few minutes, he sat in utter darkness, reveling in the sound of her at his door, standing, waiting. He understood that this would quickly become an addiction for him; eventually, his touches would linger just a little bit longer, fingers touching her skin just a little bit more. It would consume him from the inside out until he could finally claim her for his own. Only then would the madness of the hunt wear off.
If only she knew the risk she took capturing his attention. Then again, his vampirism should have been warning enough. He could not scorn her attention now.
At last he feared she would turn away and jumped up from his position, throwing open the door in what could only have been described as a fit of passion. Perhaps it was natural that she simply stood and stared. He realized a moment too late that he neglected modesty, and could not bite back the smile. It was clear that she was more than a little taken by him, and the idea pleased him beyond a doubt.
"Yes?" He asked her, not bothering to hide his own pleasure at seeing her. "Have you come for something? Perhaps a good bye kiss?"
He watched her freckled cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink as she asked for a cloak. The air around her always seemed to be electrified, and it took all of Vicente's willpower not to reach out and stroke his fingers down her neck and over her chest to the swell of her breasts. Briefly he wondered if she were the vampire and he the smitten human for all the power she seemed to hold on him.
Ducking back into his room, he opened his wardrobe to the gray wool cloak that had accompanied him on many nightly outings. Vicente considered himself to be very neat when it came to eating, but even then he knew that if Zarissis examined the cloak too closely – no doubt she would – that she'd find a few specks of blood here and there.
He retrieved it from the hook and returned to the door, where Zarissis was peeking curiously inside. A nervous smile formed on her face as he reappeared, followed by a distinct gaze of relief as the cloak entered her hands.
Vicente simply laughed. "Fear not, I wouldn't let you freeze. Was there anything else you wanted, songbird?" Self-control forgotten, he reached out a hand and cupped her chin, her delicate lips opening slightly as she gasped at the suddenness of his cold touch.
She remained silent, staring at him with a wide gaze. Vicente ran his thumb over her bottom lip, and he felt her shiver at his touch, her mouth quivering gently. He was tempted to move closer, to feel her heat against him, but he knew she had places to be. It certainly wouldn't be good for his Speaker to return and find Vicente in the throes of passion with their newest recruit.
"There's a contract waiting for you, my dear," he whispered to her, willing himself to break the heated silence. "You will return to me once it is finished."
She merely nodded numbly at him as he let his fingers fall from her face. Blinking a few times, she stepped back, her eyes locked on his until she eventually turned the corner and out of his sight. He stood in the doorway of his room, listening intently to her footsteps until they faded from the Sanctuary.
With a satisfied grin, he retreated into the comfortable darkness.
Bruma was cold, much colder than she expected. Zarissis clutched Vicente's dark cloak around her, burying her face from the wind. The cloak, she discovered, had a scent that was both familiar and comforting to her. On the surface it was musty, and reminded her of the age of the vampire who wore it, but underneath there was a distinct masculine scent and something that reminded her vaguely of magicka potions and old books.
The first inn she'd stopped in on her way to the small city had small beds with flimsy blankets. Zarissis found out the hard way that the nights were even colder than the days, and had to curl up underneath Vicente's cloak for extra warmth. It made her feel secure, albeit a little bit childish as she continuously pressed her nose to the fabric and inhaled. It was silly, she figured, to be this infatuated with a creature who could easily kill her, although she was certain there were worst deaths than having her blood sucked out.
Once at Bruma she left Dusty in the stables underneath a warm blanket that the stable hand was happy to provide. Dusty merely gazed at her with disinterest as she left and instead turned his interest to the apple lying in the outstretched palm of the boy.
The first part of every contract was locating the target without seeming suspicious. Zarissis knew there could quickly be a Black Horse Courier out with a sketch of her face on it if she asked around about a target too much before they died. However, Zarissis felt it was best to assume that Gromm was the Wood Elf's bodyguard. Reason stood that where Baenlin was, Gromm would be, and with any luck she wouldn't forfeit the bonus by killing Gromm.
It only took a quick question to the guards and a batting of eyelashes for Zarissis to find the Inn. The Innkeeper glanced up from the bar he was attending, his portly face gazing over her with vague disinterest. She couldn't imagine Bruma having much business being as far north as it was, but unlike other inns she had stayed in, he didn't seem apt to try to win her favor.
With a sigh, she dropped herself into a barstool, holding her travelling pack on her lap. The innkeeper finished pouring a glass of ale for another patron before strolling over, cleaning a glass with a wet rag. At last he gave a smile.
"Welcome to Bruma, stranger. Hafid Hallowleg. You look like you could use a drink." It was not a rude comment; merely a statement of fact. The winds had been picking up outside, and Zarissis was sure her lips had started turning blue.
She rubbed her hands together and breathed on them, trying to get the blood flowing again. "Looks like a blizzard is coming. I thought I was going to freeze!" She sincerely hoped the snow would wait until after she was on the road; the last thing she wanted was to be stuck in Bruma for several days more than necessary.
Hafid nodded, putting a mug down in front of her. "Mead?" He asked, although he had already begun pouring it. Zarissis simply sat there, not sure what else to say. She was not familiar with the beverage, but had heard plenty of rumors about the love the Nords had for the drink.
It was heavy on her tongue, burning with a sweetness she had not expected. Quickly swallowing, Zarissis coughed into her sleeve, resulting in a hearty laugh from the Nord Innkeeper.
"You get used to it in time. What brings you to Bruma, stranger?"
Zarissis pulled out a few gold pieces for the drink. "I'm here to visit my uncle, Gromm. Not sure where he lives though. It's my first time here." She smiled sweetly from behind the mug, trying to appear as innocent as possible.
"Gromm, eh? Ain't he a Nord? How does a Nord get a teeny little Breton girl for a niece?" The man guffawed for a minute or two, his portly face turning deep pink as he roared with laughter. As the amusement died down, he simply shook his head. "Don't mind me; just having a little fun at your expense. Don't worry, I believe you. Why, my cousin is a Khajiit! Who would have thought?" He wiped the tears from his eyes and took the gold Zarissis laid on the table.
"As for your previous statement, I am acquainted with Gromm. He lives across from the Fighters and Mages Guild with his employer. Will you need a room to stay tonight, miss?"
Zarissis simply shook her head and took another swig of the harsh alcohol. "No, that's okay. I'm sure my uncle will let me stay with him. He's always been so nice, you know." She sighed sweetly, resting her head on her hands. In that position, she was the portrait of innocence.
Hafid merely shook his head, a small grin on his face. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything else, you know where to find me." He gave her a quick nod before leaving to attend his other patrons. Zarissis waited for a few minutes, pretending to take drinks of her mead. She had a few hours before her contract, but she didn't want to be inebriated.
Perhaps she could poke around at the Mages Guild in the meantime. It would help pass the time.
The sun had finally set past the horizon when Zarissis left the Mages Guild. She had intended just to have a look around, but got wrapped up in some practical joke involving an idiot mage and an invisibility spell. It wasn't a complete waste – not only did she earn a recommendation for the Mages Guild, but she also learned a few things. They were horrified to discover that Zarissis didn't know a single destruction spell, and it took the better part of an hour teaching her the incantations for flames and ice, as well as an open lock and dispel spell. Over all, she considered it quite the evening, and a productive use of her time to boot.
Baenlin's house was exactly where Hafid said it would be – or at least she hoped it was his house. It wasn't as though there was a nameplate in front of it. However, Zarissis was relieved to discover a cellar door. In the rain and snow of Bruma the lock had long since frozen over and she was quite relieved for those few hours spent in the Guildhall.
Focusing on her intent, Zarissis whispered the arcane words for fire. The flame grew between her outstretched fingers, just a flicker at first. She could dimly feel the warmth, although not once did it scorch her. Slowly, as the flames intensified, the lock began to heat up and steam.
Carefully allowing the spell to flicker out, Zarissis then used her magicka to open the lock. That one came much easily to her, and in a matter of seconds she was in.
The cellar was dank and dingy, and it wasn't until she allowed the hatch to close behind her that Zarissis realized something fundamentally important about herself: she was afraid of the dark.
It was quite silly really for an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, a cold-blooded murderer, to be afraid of something so simple as shadows. They were supposed to be her friends, to hide her and keep her secrets. Yet Zarissis felt the tug of dread all the same.
She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. Never before had she been suspended in such pure darkness, much less in the home of a man who may or may not be her target. It wasn't about what could or couldn't be lurking in the murk – it was about the unknown. What if she ran into something and alerted the whole house? What if there were Skeevers?
She shivered. Schemer was a Skeever, but he was cuddly. Zarissis suspected he was Vicente's pet, as the rat seemed inclined to sit on his feet while he read at night. Vicente… Thinking about the vampire made her bite the inside of her cheek. Would he laugh if he knew her dilemma? The shadows were his light. He could move as gracefully through them as a serpent in water.
Holding her hands close to her body, Zarissis whispered the words for fire and watched as the glow began beneath her fingertips. She felt her terror spike, worrying about what her light may reveal in the darkness.
A soft radiance shone in the room, and she squinted at her surroundings. She was simply in a wine cellar, of course. Here and there were a few baskets of fruit and vegetables. Zarissis picked her way past them, heading for the door at the top of the stairwell.
Whispering a quick prayer to the Night Mother, Zarissis let the flames trickle out of her hands before opening the lock. The one good thing about spells was that the tell-tale sounds of lockpicks breaking were gone, and Zarissis was able to push open the door to the house with ease.
She appeared to be in a hallway. From beyond her enclave Zarissis could see the orange flicker of light on the walls, indicating that Baenlin had heated the fireplace and was now reading in his favourite chair. Hopefully he'd be too distracted to notice a dark streak dash through the shadows.
Touching the band on her finger, Zarissis called upon the Detect Life spell. Two purple figures shot to life before her eyes, separated from her only by a wall. With a silent exhale, Zarissis pressed her way into the room, careful to hug the darkness. Across from her, a stairwell rose to a second floor.
Pressing a glance to the two men, Zarissis was pleased to see Baenlin preoccupied reading and Gromm with his back to her, warming his hands at the fireplace. Carefully, she darted to the stairs, gently climbing on the balls of her feet. There was very little squeaking, and any miniscule noise she may have made was swallowed by the crackling of fire.
It took half a minute of navigation for Zarissis to find the room that she suspected was above Baenlin's head. There was nothing spectacular in the old bedroom; simply a double bed and a dresser. It was only through her surveying that Zarissis noticed the odd shape on the wall behind the armoire. Gotcha.
She tapped lightly on the wood, the sound reverberating back to her. Suspicions proven, then. Zarissis pressed both hands and gently wiggled the door from the wall, a small dusty crawlspace appearing behind it then. She was quick to drop to her knees, slipping into the tiny space.
At the far end of the tunnel were the ties for the trophy. Zarissis crawled to them, grime collecting on her armor. She could simply undo the ties…or she could try something new. Closing her eyes, Zarissis focused on the magicka brimming inside of her and imagined what the dense forests of Skyrim may look like.
The cold stretched up her arm, despite the little ball of ice and air trapped in her palms. Holding it close to the ties, Zarissis watched as the metal began to crack and freeze, frost gathering on the back of the wall. The ice stretched along to where the ties met at the wall, and she quickly cut the spell. It took no more than a few seconds for the weight of the Minotaur head to overwhelm the brittle bonds. With a simple crack, Zarissis listened in wonderstruck awe as the Minotaur head crashed to the floor below it, landing with a sickening snap and the dull crunch of bones.
Gromm's wailing was almost imminent. Realizing the danger, Zarissis pulled herself from the crawlspace and replaced the door, quickly drawing on her ring for Detect Life. Baenlin's life force flickered and dimmed until it was gone; meanwhile, Gromm had fallen to his feet.
Zarissis had her chance. In his own grief, Gromm never noticed the dark shape slink to the cellar door, nor did he hear the sound of the hatch opening and closing. He simply sat with tears running down his face at the death of the man he admired most.
She was out, and she succeeded! Zarissis almost jumped with triumph, but decided better of it. She would have a bit of time to leave before Gromm reported the death and so she made no sudden run for it. Huddled beneath Vicente's cloak, Zarissis entered the Mages Guild one last time to fetch her gear before leisurely walking down the street, allowing the small flecks of snow to dart her pale cheeks and nose.
It is beautiful to be alive, she thought to herself.