Author's Note: Whoo. So not only am I into the 'writing it up as I go' phase, but I'm also into some of the hardest chapters to write. I genuinely like the Affably Evil Sanctuary members … but I also don't download mods that let me 'resurrect' them … I guess if I were playing a necromancer or something. *Shrug!*

Still, I've been writing these out in a notebook I've got, so yay! Few chapters ahead, there.

Nobody Important

Chapter Twelve: Resignation

In which coming to terms with atrocity isn't actually that easy.

By: N3k0

She had a visitor, after Lachance left. Some rational part of her wondered why the Speaker had let the intruder live. It was obvious enough after a moment or two – if she died, she was hardly worthy to call herself "Assassin."

And if she lived, well, this would be a rather fitting punishment for her disobedience.

She wondered if she should inform her visitor of the danger he was in.

He wore red robes. They all did. Mythic Dawn – maybe it was a religious statement.

Lachance knew their name.

Her guest had her pinned to the cheap and otherwise comfortable bed, a look of fury on his face as he slammed her shoulders against it once more. "Where is it?" he demanded. She didn't answer.

The rational, thinking part of her didn't really have access to her body at the moment.

How could he expect her to kill Vicente?

The Dawn assassin should have realized by now that she didn't have it. He'd dumped her backpack out on the floor, rifled through her things. "Speak! You still have your tongue. Talk, and I'll make your death painless, girl."

She stared blankly into his eyes.

She'd always figured the penalty for disobedience was death.

She wondered if she would have bruises.

He summoned a knife, the stench of sulfur wafting between them, and she wondered if she would have scars. An ugly smile crossed his face, as he pressed it against her cheek. "Are you mute, little bird? Is that why you haven't screamed for help?" There was a pinprick of pain where he first dug the blade in. "If you're worried for the others, don't be." The pinprick became a line as he almost gently cut her face open. "You see, they're already dead."

She wouldn't do it.

"I actually prefer it this way, you know."

And then what? Lachance would likely dispose of her, if this pest didn't manage it first. He'd send another assassin, then – one who wouldn't care.

He set to work on the other side of her face, dragging the blade down from her forehead. "You're supposed to react more. Flinching and squirming is all well and good, but really there's more … satisfaction when you scream. The others screamed. Long and loud, until they went hoarse. Or I slit their throats. Magic is so useful for quieting a ruckus, wouldn't you say?"

The sight in her left eye went dark.

One who'd enjoy the work. A man like this one.

"No matter. A sculptor does not always have the best clay to work with. Really, with how little you move, you provide a better canvas for … more intricate designs." He was still smiling as he cut a thin gash under the left eye.

She could smell her own blood.

She owed it to them. She loved them.

Lyssi focused her will, the untouched eye catching his, holding his. Horror crossed his features, as for a moment only, his hand stilled. His entire body trembled as he flung the blade away. It didn't clatter; it vanished in a puff of smoke.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged.

She'd make it painless for them.

A horrible grin twisted her mangled features.

"Beg."

There was just enough of the Redguard assassin left to fill a mug. She rather suspected he wouldn't bother her further; she turned her thoughts to more pressing issues.

She pressed her palm to her cheek, white light forming around it. The gashes closed, and slowly, sight began to return to her left eye. Over time, she expected she'd regain full use of it. That was good.

So much for not being an ugly monster ...

Moving slowly, she gathered her bloodied things from where he had scattered them across the floor. He'd been looking for the Amulet of course – apparently, this 'Dawn' weren't yet aware she'd gotten rid of it. She didn't think she'd be telling them about their error, and – looking once more at the few remaining bits of flesh and bone, she doubted the Redguard would be all that much more informative.

She found her notebook, pen, and ink amidst the carnage of her room, and counted herself fortunate that all three were in usable condition. She couldn't travel during the day, no, but she needed a plan. Vicente had taught her to plan – even if the plan went awry, as plans almost always did, having some idea what she was doing would help her succeed.

She couldn't be thinking this!

She started with a list of their names on the left. That was the "problem" side of the paper.

She had to.

Trust. That was her biggest asset, the one that would let her work mostly undisturbed. Her Family trusted her, except M'raaj-Dar, and she could manage the Khajiit. She'd never given anyone in the Sanctuary a reason not to trust her.

Trust went on the right side of the sheet. The "solution" side.

She loved them.

She'd use the poison. It killed painlessly, starting with the brain, and even Argonians, with their legendary resistance to poisons, couldn't survive its effects. Antoinetta had once made a fairly lethal dish while she was still learning to cook, and it had laid low everyone in the Sanctuary except Vicente and Lyssi, who simply didn't eat it, and Ocheeva and Teinaava, for whom contaminated food wasn't an issue. They happily polished off the entire remainder of the dish when even Gogron fell ill.

Maybe – maybe – she could get them all with the poison.

Of course, Vicente didn't eat.

She was in the middle of scribbling the word "Poison" in the right-hand column when she heard a noise. Her hand froze, her attention turned to the source.

There was a pounding on the front door of the inn. "In the name of the Emperor, I command you to open this door!"

((Letter tiem! This one is bloodied and crumpled in a back corner of the Sanctuary. Yep.))

Please, Mistress,

i would do anything, pay any price. i would kill anyone for You, i would let you feast on my blood until you had taken the last drop, and beg You to wring just a little more from my dry, dead corpse if it pleased You.

Let me be with You.

- Your loving servant