jaebility: (beatles // paul in glasses)
[personal profile] jaebility
She pulled off her Nightengale mask to get a better look at it, reading the message a few times in case she’d missed something, something hidden between the neat letters. But no, nothing there but a death sentence. Or attempt, anyway. Didn’t say all that much for the Brotherhood, if a thief could out kill them.

Nadreshiel rolled the assassin’s note between her bloody fingers as she contemplated. The Guild was secure and everyone getting too fat and lazy to squeeze out of the sewer’s passages. The Guild was secure, but apparently she wasn’t - targeted by assassins in addition to tenacious guards and rival thieves. The bargain she’d made with Nocturnal was still a decent one and she could almost feel the weight of it, like it was some other piece of armor or some heavy loot in her pocket. But the other Princes… Other bargains…

She crumbled the note into a tiny ball, then swallowed it for some reason she couldn’t fathom herself. From it hatched a nebulous plan as it dawned with the growing strength of the sun rising, which is was, warming the Rift and gilding the leaves that moved around her.

A cover. She should’ve put one in place when she joined the Guild, she thought with a sneering frown at her past stupidity. She had one, sort of - the Thane position and her idiotic housecarl were distinct from the work she did in the sewers. And she had her hideout, tucked away where even Brynjolf didn’t think to look. She paced as she plotted, sliding between the shadows that lengthened as the sun climbed. Marriage maybe, even children. At that thought she laughed and deer who had begun grazing near her startled and scattered. Nadreshiel spread her map and glanced at the mountains to find her location. She was near the Sarethi farm, home of Avrusa and her silly sister Aduri. Sarethi… Nadresheil tried to remember where she’d heard tha name. One of the Great Houses? History, even recent, had never been interesting enough to remember, let alone learn. But she’d ask Karliah about it, maybe.

Or maybe not. No need to get Karliah curious.

With her farmer’s reliability and alchemist’s shrewdness, Avrusa wasn’t a terrible option. Nadreshiel had always liked the Dunmar anyway, all sooty and mysterious; a welcome change from the thick and thick-headed Nords. And at her age, Avrusa would gladly welcome a proposal. Nadreshiel’s could offer stability, money, an in to the market of potions and poison in Riften - Avrusa would have to be mad and daft to refuse it. She’d be grateful, probably eager to show her appreciation. And elf that long-lived, she might even be able to show Nadreshiel a thing or two with a finger or two.

Other names and faces were banished. No one in the Guild, certainly. That’d ruin everything. No one from Whiterun - she hated that place - and Windhelm too with the ridiculous Stormcloaks fucking everything up. There was pretty Sylgja and there was Cosnach, who was good for a laugh. Gilfre had been pretty receptive last time Nadresheil had gone sniffing around there. And Romlyn wasn’t have bad, and he wasn’t above a bit of smuggling, so he could be open to learning more about what she really did when she went hunting.

Her thoughts went back to Avrusa and the low cut of her dress. Nadreshiel changed into hunting clothes and stored her NIghtengale armor in a hidden space in some rocks. She’d got to the farm, anyway, see what a little flirting could do, see is she could make the Sarethis feel more than gratitude.

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a jar of jae

November 2016

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