spicykvnt

Current Mood in One Gif

Delta Green: Whispers in the Darkness

A collab with @Leidenschaft & @WittyReference

---

"Cut the shit Chase, you know why we're here." Clint's tone was biting but steady. Deputy Sheriff Chase Hillock, mountain of a man. Played center back when the school was worth the bricks. Joined the force about the time McClintock was on his way out, a young man's game.

"I'm sorry sir, that's Deputy Hillock if you please. " The deputy's tone dripped with the same apple pie and bless your heart, saccharine venom just beneath the crust. "This is a crime scene as you seem to be aware, sir," the large lawman's kind eyes bore fuck you into Clint's own, "and while we appreciate the state troopers interest in this matter, we have it well under control." A smile simmered on his lips as his mass leaned against the dark vehicle defiantly.

Clint turned to Pari, his eyes as narrow and bleak as the road ahead. "Show him the damn badge."

His eyes were intense - an intensity that communicated a lot to her about him. For a start, how seriously he was taking this case, as he should be. This was his town. These were his people. The thought of whether this would be a help or a hindrance to the investigation did cross her mind briefly.

Deputy Hillock may have been a big man, but Pari was not intimidated, men like this were a dime a dozen in law enforcement. He was not the first and he would not be the last that she would bypass to reach a crime scene. Before Clint could even ask, the badge was in her hand - folded in it's wallet, she leaned across Clint, her own deep mahogany eyes fixated on the Deputy with a smile that harboured a slight arrogance. “Parinaaz Bhatt, homicide investigator for the FBI. We aren't here to step on your toes Deputy, I certainly wouldn't dream of it,” she pulled the badge back and nodded at Clint, “but we've been asked to attend this scene. I'd appreciate to not have to call any of my superiors and make a show of this... You will not even notice us.”

Clint interjected as Bhatt's nimble fingers flipped her identification closed with practiced grace. “You're a prick, Hillock but you're a damn fine deputy. You know how well I trust suits but if it takes a monster to catch a monster we need to give them all the help we can. This goes above Hayes so you need to keep that fat mouth shut.”

Hillock stared a while at the young woman's credentials. He'd never seen an FBI agent but she hardly fit his mental image. Maybe that was the point. He scoffed. He was a damn fine deputy and it was high time the old bastard admitted it. It was a hollow victory however as anything that made the old man grovel was bad news. His bravado slackened as he waved the car through the checkpoint. “You're still an ass, Clint. Detective Roy is waiting for you. You're not the only one they let in on their little secrets, you old fuck. S'cuse my language, Miss.”

McClintock sighed as the vehicle began rolling again. He turned toward Pari slowly. “I doubt the boys'll fuck up a chance to catch this bastard. S'cuse my language. They're stubborn but they're good people. They're worth savin’, ma'am.”

“I wouldn’t have thought otherwise, I want to catch them too - whoever is behind it. Believe me, we will.” Her voice trailed off and she tilted her head to watch the scene outside of the window, the mountains - the forest. It was a world away from Seattle, a universe from Mumbai. There was a chilling dissonance here that only seemed to become more unnerving as the car approached the destination.

“You know, McClintock - I believe that a lot can be said for human intuition and gut feeling,” as she spoke softly, she placed her badge back in the inside pocket of her jacket. “You’ve lived here your whole life - correct me if I’m wrong - out of our small team, you know this area and the people the best, yes? Tell me - what does you gut tell you about this right now?” There was a seriousness to her tone, but not an uncomfortable one. To her, everything was part of the investigation, and while she did not mean to put her new colleague on the spot like that, she knew that his thoughts would be of fundamental value.

Her tone was inviting, warm even, but her tongue flashed the Sword of Damocles. For what awaits all in power? That omnipresent threat of destruction, it sung malice to the hearts of kings but what of the guard sent to protect them? To give your life in the line of duty, the fear of the martyr and every damn lawman just trying to get home. And now Moralez never would. After a long while Clint spoke. “Well miss,” his tone was deliberate. “Miss, I’m afraid whatever happened to the Mulligans also befell my friend. I’m afraid we’ll find Moralez dead and butchered and there won’t be enough for his family to bury. I’m afraid Roy won’t have a lick of evidence that can point us to the killer, and I’m afraid we’ll be the ones to find the two of those heartbreaking discoveries are one.” He dropped back into silence then, the air heavy in his lungs.

“I’m sorry in advance for what we might see, I imagine there’s not much dismemberment in your office.” A breeze of levity, a knowing jab, it was all he could muster. As the tires ached toward their destination the rumbling whine seemed to match the lawman’s dread. “We’ll be there soon I think, Roy’ll want to meet y’as soon as we arrive.” Gone was the song on his lips and the fire in his eyes, all that remained was the gravedigger’s guilt. “Miss, I shouldn’t’a left him alone that night.” His voice trailed off as he turned towards the quickly approaching reds and blues ahead.

Pari could only listen to the man. He was an older gentleman, it was apparent not only in his appearance, but his manner and way of speaking with her. It was refreshing, she liked that he had some old-fashioned class about him. But there was more than that buried beneath it. “Don't apologise for that,” was about all she could muster at first. She just let herself look into his eyes with a comforting smile - as much as she could manage, at least. They were still very new acquaintances, and she didn't think it appropriate to extend any further words on the matter of the crime scene.

“Try not to think that way, you'll pollute your own mind with toxicity when it must remain clear now. Do not let yourself feel blame,” she spoke firmly, knowing that the words would fall on deaf ears. She had seen it before, she had witnessed how guilt like that could unravel a person. She herself had unraveled over less… She would need to keep an eye on Clint. As the car stopped, she felt an anxiety form in her stomach, how bad could it be?

If there had been an atmosphere before, it was nothing compared to this. The scene was in slow motion, captured and held there in a heavy and morose ambiance, threat and terror looming over the horizon - something quietly sinister stirring below. It was as though the whole thing would collapse at any moment. She felt eyes on their car, not everyone, but enough for it to make her feel uncomfortable and like the stranger that she was. She was out of place here completely and it only caused the anxiety to further stab at her guts. She took a deep breath in and clicked her finger against the button of her seatbelt. “Alright, let's find Roy…” her tone was subdued and heavy, followed by the long exhalation from her nose.

“Right. No sense wastin’ any more time. Now, if anyone gives you trouble out here you let me know. They may not like me but at least they respect me.” With that the lawman slid from the dark vehicle and began his march toward Roy when the dark figures caught his eye from the bushes. Kitted out and dangerous, he figured there would be plenty of time to discuss their “guests” later. For now there was work to be done and he’d need to knock the cobwebs lose. “Howdy Detective. This here is Parinaaz Bhatt and I’m hoping I’m pronouncing that correctly. Miss Pari, this is Detective Roy and she’ll be our info drop on this.”

“Clint.” Roy said, a genuine smile to see the old man here and in such high company, as far as the pecking order of Law Enforcement went. She cut a very different figure than the rest of the police about the scene. Dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, her hair done up in a tight bun and thick-rimmed glasses, looking like she’d be more home in a less rural police force. Her accent was all the same familiarity of the hills to Clint, though, “You must be Pari.”

The two women shook hands and Roy wasted no time, only worrying about her job when she was wearing the badge, “I trust you know the background of all this. None of us have been here long and I haven’t even gotten a chance to really survey the scene. I’ll leave that to you, I guess,” Roy nodded and smiled to Pari, “Have a look in the trailer if you’d like, it’s where I’d start. Far as outside goes, I noticed tire tracks and marked off some boot prints.”

“Clint, I guess you can stay with me. I haven’t had a chance to greet our fuckin’ guests over there.” She shook her head, all dagger-eyed at the two black-fatigued men at the edges of the scene like carrion birds, “Fuckin’ dressed to impress, though.”

“I noticed that as well, wish you’d have told me we were having folks over I’d have brought more whiskey.” Clint raised a finger and tapped on the tin of tobacco in his breast pocket. He’d need to stop by the gas station in the morning, he had a feeling this was going to be a long morning. With practiced ease the lawman lipped his dip and turned to face the detective once more. “Boot prints might be regulation, easy way to rule them out as Moralez’. Shall we see what our esteemed colleagues want before all that gear gives’em heat stroke?”

---

Roy had seemed affable enough, which gave Pari some relief. The only thing worse than one lawman with an attitude was two lawmen with attitude. She was grateful for the woman’s straight forwardness. She did as she was asked - and headed to the trailer, snapping on a pair of blue nitrile gloves as she walked. The scent was familiar, and that familiarity was a brief and welcome distraction from the severity of the situation at hand.

The first thing to note was that there were no signs of struggle inside the trailer, that much was certain. In fact the entire trailer was clean and lingering on the air inside was the subtle scent of the air freshener that they used. Lemons, possibly with some kind of flower.

At first glance nothing seemed amiss, but that was of course the mask of what had happened. It hadn’t happened in this room - no struggle after all. Pari wondered if it was Vicki or Daniel who kept the place so clean - she wondered what kind of couple they were. Did they share responsibilities? Or did Vicki manage everything? Whoever is was keeping house, they clearly took pride in it. She’d never really know now. She could see their faces in the framed photographs adorning the trailer. They looked happy, sociable, well-liked. Seeing them in their moments made her feel slightly closer to them, a glance at them and she felt the warmth of the couple - and a realisation of why the atmosphere was so damn cold around here now. Pari sighed.

On the kitchen bench, there sat a can filled with cigarette butts. Someone was a smoker, more than likely Daniel. It explained why there was such a presence of air freshener - maybe Vicki didn’t particularly encourage his habit. Pari was careful not to disturb the muddy footprints on the flooring. Boots, they’d walked straight to the bedroom - not stopping to disturb a thing, no slight turn to look at a photo or take something from a drawer. Whoever they were, they worked with absolute efficiency in their task to kill. They were methodical and cold about it.

As she paced around - in her own methodical manner - she wanted to observe everything. She took her notes on a small wirebound notebook with a mechanical pencil. A long list of short bullet points.

The bedroom was entirely different. The bed was soaked through with blood stains. It was grisly, but not unexpected. None of it had gotten anywhere else, there were no splashes or splatters on the wall, no drips on the floor. It was all contained in their bed. Two bibles sat on the bedside tables either side of the bed. They were a happy, religious couple that were well liked in the area. Something about the scene wasn’t adding up for Pari. Her thoughts were that this was a deliberate act intended to shock and shock alone.

The way that the tire tracks headed out of the Mulligan residence and were lost after the dirt road indicated that whomever this was, they knew their way here. The agents had discussed the probability of them living in one of the towns connected to the road to be the culprit. A possibility, but too early to say in Pari’s mind. Still, she added it to the bullet list.

The last item of note was a Mossberg 870 in the the closet. Clean - as clean as the rest of the trailer, and it didn’t appear to have been fired recently. For show perhaps? The box of shells sat beside it. It was a standard crime scene, it was unremarkable - it was like so many that she had seen before. So why was there such a heavy atmosphere and tension lingering. That was the concern, that’s where this slipped from an everyday homicide to something that had required their special team. She had to do her best on this one.

She removed the gloves, placing them in her jacket pocket for now as she got far enough away from the trailer and scanned the area to Clint. She had to share her findings and thoughts.

---

“You know, Clint,” Roy said as they sauntered over to the two gear-laden, black-fatigued men in the small tactical buggy, “You ever get that feeling in your gut that somebody you’re going to approach while working a case is just going to be a fucking asshole?”

Clint chuckled, at least some semblance of warmth to it. “I guess I didn’t tell you we ran into Hillock down the hill, did I?” He gave a knowing look to Roy as she continued.

“Hillock’s just another boy who never thought about being a man because he grew up a few miles from here in the city. Those assholes don’t give a shit about White Tree until now because it’s a big case.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen him in so many others when I was in Internal Affairs. I’m getting the gut feeling that these guys are going to be fucking assholes, Clint. Like the rest of them around you and me.”

Just as expected, one of them rose and the other followed just a tick off from unison. Roy knew who the leader was. Roy waved but the two men wordlessly got in their buggy, the thing roaring to life and spitting up a rooster’s tail of dirt as it disappeared in a smoke of exhaust and the feeling left behind after you’d just been a prick to. “Alright, Clint. What’s your detailed analysis of the fuckery?”

“If I had to hazard a guess, I imagine Vera doesn’t care too much for state enforcement.” He spat the word. “Bastards.”

“I wouldn’t either if I was the asshole dealing with the one set of people in West Virginia that won’t bend over for me.” The two turned around just as Pari was finished following some of the tire tracks. Roy waved across the distance, “Think the girl will do good? Morales deserves a good team looking for him.”

“She seems too kind for the work she does. Hasn’t made her a hard ass prick like us yet.” Another knowing look. Roy may have been all business but she’d always been amiable. Not like those fuckers in blue. “I think we’ll find out once we hear what she’s found.”

“Give it some time.” Roy nudged Clint, the old lawman was salty, sure but Roy knew him to be one of the only people around here who was genuinely in it to make things different around here, for the better. “You either start drinking because you find out you barely make a difference, or you start drinking because it’s the only reward you get for making that little difference.”

“Alright, Pari,” Roy said as the three of them rejoined each other’s company, “What’s to do about the trailer?”

“A little early to say… But I have some theories of course. I want to check where those boot prints end and begin too. This killer is cold though, he deliberately chose the Mulligans but he didn’t care about them. He cared about what they represent to this town I’d say… A pair of upstanding, Christian people.” She thumbed the pages of her notebook as she spoke to Roy and Clint, meeting both of their eyes in turns. “It’s my belief that they weren’t his real target, there was no struggle, nothing disturbed inside. It was quick, they probably didn't even know...” her stare held on Clint this time before she looked over her shoulder towards the tyre marks and footprints again.

“I would really like to know about Morales, his life, hobbies, interests…Everything. That’s where I’d go next…”

“Morales was a good man. Loved his family, did his job, protected the people. It was no secret he didn’t care much for Vera, none of us do, but he had this suspicion the sheriff's office was in their pocket. Rumors start everyday over there but it may have something to do with his disappearance.”

Roy pointed to the tire tracks, “Three sets. Different treads. One of them is Morales’ cruiser, they matched up to his car- which we found about a mile towards the city.” Roy shook her head, “The other two, I’ve got no clue. You might want to check those boot prints.”

A short walk brought them to a space in the field where a set of tire tracks looped around the sharpest. “I figure somebody came here, stayed for a bit, and went. Two different people, because I’ve never seen somebody who can drive two cars at once.”

“It had to have been a team, Clint, Pari. The Cruiser was gone before the deputies got here and driving here after Morales checked in, disposing his car, walking back and then going on their own merry way in their own vehicle would’ve taken a long time.” Roy looked both Clint and then Pari in the eye, “I figured it was too professional for some backwoods hillbilly bullshit like White Tree. No offense, Clint, but we both know the stock that grows up here. We did.”

She hiked up the legs of her pants to bend down, putting her hand out, fingers spread and sweeping over the field, “Lots of activity. Maybe cleaning up. Morales was ex-military and it’s usually quiet this far into the sticks. Nobody could’ve snuck up on nobody, much less a soldier-boy, out here unless they knew he was coming and ready as hell.” Roy got back up, “Twenty dollars says you check these boot prints and they’ll be too many sets to prove me wrong on this.”

Sure enough, after a bit of a walk around the property, it was revealed that Roy was right to both Clint and Pari. The two returned to her, “Their dog was taken out. Knife. One long cut on the throat.” She shook her head and it looked as shaken as she should be at this, “How the hell are you going to sneak up on a damn German Shepherd? The thing must have been rooted, scared shitless. You find me a man alive that can put the fear in a hound set on protecting its family.”

Roy put her hand on her hips, “That’s all I found. I just needed you to get into that trailer. I wanted another pair of eyes to get in there and figure I ain’t finally crazy after all the shit I seen.” Roy frowned, “Thoughts?”

“I think it’s high time we check those prints.”

“After looking? I’m only more confused now… Something truly strange has happened here - that’s for sure. I want to get to the bottom of it, and believe me I will. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with the truly strange and depraved…” Pari folded her notebook into her pocket, eyes narrowing as she took one last long look over the entire scene from where she stood - her breathing slow and arms folded over her chest.

“Any luck with those men?” She asked the two, in a voice that suggested she was still giving her concentration to the scene.

Her eyes broke from the scene and she turned once more to Roy, “Ma’am, I’d like a call when the forensic analysis begins at the lab. I’d like to be there - if it hasn’t already started. Let me know. In the meantime I’d like to take a look through town and get a feel for this place if that is alright with you Clint.”

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Hope everyone is well today!

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Stormflyx I love your writing! From the emphasis on characters actually physically emoting how they feel to the characterisation like "Dorcha Chilli Whisky" and quotes like "She wasn't sure who was the strangest of the whole party. Was it really her? Probably not."

Love it, god bless you and what you do. The care you put in shows

@The Fated Fallen

Oh my gosh this is so nice and beautiful of you to say. It has made my day ❤ Thank you so much:)

I think you're absolutely wonderful at what you do too, and I always look forward to reading Alice, she's such an endlessly interesting character. I hope she and Aeryn can interact soon!

Current Mood in One Gif

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Also posted! :)

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Aeryn rubbed her hands together at the table, looking at the tankard of ale that had been set in front of her with a bemused expression. She'd had it before - surely? She just couldn't recall. There was so much going on within the inn too that she could barely focus on anything, her brain scattered and tired after the events of the day so far. She rubbed the tip of her nose with a finger, and tucked a set of loose strands of hair behind her ear before raising the tankard to her lips for a sip.

GROSS! Disgusting! Absolutely no flavour whatsoever!

She stuck her tongue out in disgust, and opted to slide her tankard along the table to any other takers. Now, some Dorcha Chilli Whisky? That would go down a treat and parch her appetite for a drink. She doubted they'd stock such a thing here. Her lips pouted and tugged to the side comically as she just sat in her seat, watching the merriment around her. She gave thought to the last few days, her rescue from the guardsmen and subsequent meeting with this gang of misfits. As she eyed them all up, she wasn't sure who was the strangest of the whole party. Was it really her? Probably not.

She shrugged and waited for Beren to return. She liked Beren, he had been the one whom she had noticed first during the events of her rescue. He did seem to be quite a strange fellow but she couldn't put her finger on what that was. As he hadn't yet arrived, she plucked herself up from her seat and moved timidly over to watch the three man who were knife throwing a little closer. Each of them had poor technique that she couldn't help but chuckle at. Eventually one of them noticed, and challenged her to do better - and so she took the throwing knife from his grip and flung it with a gentle flick of her delicate wrist towards the board. Of course, it landed with a dull thud right in the centre - and deep too, a splinter of wood falling out from under the silver blade. She smiled arrogantly, surprised that the three boys had been so eager to trust a Dorcha with a blade. It set her at ease, and for the first time all day she genuinely smiled and forgot her troubles.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Gregor: What do you want me to say? We’re close. We’ve gotten to know each other. We’re intimately close, yes. He is older than me, he’s seen a great many more things than I have and experienced much more. He is brave and beautiful and he protects me, keeps me safe. He is my Knight. He carries a great weight on his shoulders, and has carried it alone for too long. I help him - he is no longer alone now. Am I in love with him? Madly.

Daro’Vasora: I’m not afraid to admit I was wrong about her. I still think she can be conniving, and she is not afraid to get out those claws when it suits her. She is doing well with the burden that was left on her following the passing of Rhea. Whether she will lead everyone is something I cannot see. Nobody knows what will happen from one day to the next right now. I think that she is a strong woman who will do what is within her power to ensure we all make it through this with our lives. Whether we do or not… It remains to be seen.

Judena: People tell me that Judena is forgetful, but not once has she forgotten my name. She has my respect, it’s not often that I can so clearly see a spirit of a person, but with Jude… To me, her spirit is as clear as day. I don’t know much of her life before all of this, or of her goals, I just recognise her value and warmth and the way she is able to make people feel at ease. Need I say anything more?

Brynja: Fancies herself to be quite the Chef. She is loud and brash, but look at her - you would expect nothing else. She’s a giantess of a woman and she knows it. I don’t know her very well, but we shared a moment in the Infirmary. She is just a woman keeping her head above water in trying times by drowning it in a bottle.

Alim: Aside from Gregor, Alim is the member of our group that I trust the most. He saved my life and swept me quite literally off my feet. He is a smooth talker and a flirt, I’ve met charming men like him many times and I know how to work them, I’ll leave it at that. He has been a good friend to me, and has never judged me. I worry for our relationship, he and Gregor have shared terse words. I don’t want to be in the middle of something like that, or even spark the flames, but I need my friend…

Anifaire: Alim says that she is cute, but I disagree. Typical snobbish Altmer with her head up her arse from what I’ve seen. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, wouldn’t hurt a fly. I can’t recall saying a word to her at any time in my journey - so I could be wrong.

Solandil: Another Altmer - they tend to stay away from the group, don’t they?Perhaps plotting their own schemes. Who knows? I have no time for them. He has a look in his eye that suggests to me he’s seen some shit, pardon my tongue. He seems unpleasant and sour, even if he did wish to talk with me, I’d be put off by him, honestly.

Jaraleet: A strange one. Something about him doesn’t add up - and he may be very professional and skilled in his… Profession but his naïveté and lack of social understanding betrays the maturity he tries to show. He sometimes blusters through conversation like a hurricane leaving no room for grace or tact. In a way it is both endearing and entirely offensive. I like it. He doesn’t mince his words, at least.

Mazrah: She is exactly the type of beastly woman I would hate, but one must admit that having someone with that skill and brash nature is helpful. I look at Mazrah and see her tenacity above all else. I feel that she hides much of her emotion under her sense of humour and lewd behaviour. I feel safe with her around, and dare I say it, I do like her more now than I first did even if I fear I’ve set a precedent for her to get handsy with me.

Latro: I… Didn’t realise how much I needed a companion like Latro until I needed him. His words, his manner. I will never forget what he did for me, I feel like the two of us have a bond that the group will never fully understand because of an encounter we had together. I trust him, wholeheartedly. We are both Breton from entirely different worlds, we are entirely different in our ways and personality and yet there is opportunity there for real friendship. I wonder where he came from because there is a real gentle nature to him but I sense further down there lies the opposite, a raging storm currently quelled. He is a man who will do the right thing, no matter the cost and remain true to his convictions.

Calen: For some reason when I look at Calen I am looking at a younger brother, I have this desire within me to protect him and keep him safe from further harm. He has the purest nature of any of us, and I think to see that disrupted or damaged in any way would be horrible. Having Calen around reminds me that there’s hope for us all.

Rhona: I’ve shared a room with the girl, that’s about it. She is as meek as a mouse and yet apparently she has a violent streak for ex lovers. I also believe she and Calen to be an item, I don’t blame her - he’s effortlessly charming after all. If you’re attracted to men like that.

Shakti: The young Redguard from the party? We just seem to be welcoming in all manner of riff raff now. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I jest, I jest. I have not said a single word to the girl but she seems affable enough to me, from a quick glance I saw a fire in her eyes for something. Or was I just drunk? We will find out in the coming days.

Megana: Commoner. That incessant chatter, the accent, the dropping of her consonants constantly irritates me to the point where I don’t like to have to speak to her. Yes, I am being harsh, I am sure she is nice. Is nice enough in this world? One needs a thick skin, teeth, and claws to survive in this harsh climate. I think she is currently ill-equipped and will learn soon enough of the horrors that lurk in the shadows of night… I did hear she procured and item for my father, I guess this says something of her skill and desire to work. People like her though, I wonder if there is something to be said for being pure of heart. I am envious of her innocence.

Nanine: The battle mage? I know only that she is nosy and persistent and likes to read people as a party trick. Other than that, I don’t know her. Perhaps I should invite her along with Shakti for tea and biscuits and get back to you...

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

What Can I Do If The Fire Goes Out?

---

It was hard to distinguish what was real now, between dreaming and waking, unconsciousness and fear - everything from the days so far in Gilane was a blur. A chaotic canvas painted in various shades of danger, intensity, lust, pain, and fear. The side of her head felt sore, so sore that she could have easily thought it was split open, spilling out onto the dusty stone floor. The heels of her boots scraped against said floor as she pulled herself upright, a painful crick in her neck rang out through her body and she began to hear the light chatter in the distance of unfamiliar voices.

Blue bloodshot eyes flickered open and her instinct was to pinch the bridge of her nose - but her hands were still bound tightly behind her. Frayed rope rubbing against her delicate skin. “Sora…?” she whispered as her head lolled to the side, eyes fixating on a pool of blood that surrounded a man - Roux, who sat lifeless in his chair in the centre of it. They had left him here. They had left her here. She tugged desperately at the ropes, feeling where they were loose and equally where they were not. Why would Zaveed have done such a thing?

It was the evening breeze that was carrying through the few cracks on the window boards, that salty air that carried a slight chill that let her know that the sun had been set for some time. The pale and ghastly skin of Roux, as well as the dried blood on his shirt indicated he had been dead for hours. The paralysed and haunting expression was all that was left behind after life had been expunged from him with the cruel and vicious twist of a knife in his heart. He had once loved, felt pain, sorrow, and happiness beyond measure. He was a man who had experienced a life so rich, that much she could tell by observing him there. His intricate linen shirt suggested he had been a man of humble style. She could make out where the laughter lines had started to sink into his face. Minor scars on his arms told the stories of his adventures, and the rough skin of his hands showed that he had been a hardworking man of labour.

Raelynn choked back a sob.

Their armour that they each wore was once only to be seen in ruins - covered in dust, dented and crushed by the unforgiving passing of time. Yet, now it was polished and in front of her on on living, breathing Dwemer. The very same Dwemer whose attention her sobs had caught. There were three beating hearts beneath once forgotten plate armour, and three sets of eyes locked onto hers. She lifted her shaking head and continued to work her hands behind her, pulling away at the weak spot that Zaveed had left there.

“Sleeping beauty is awake at last…” one of them said coldly, cracking his knuckles at the table they were all sat around before looking away indifferently, unthreatened by her.

If she had died here - if she had been the one to die, it was the weight of things left unsaid that lay on her heart, crushing it in her chest.

They continued with their low chatter, and time was getting on. Nothing was going to change. She would remain here until Zaveed returned, until they grew bored, or even worse -- she would just remain here. Defeated. Maybe that was as things should be. Her eyes fell to the ground again, to the pool of blood which was dripping down the steps. Watching it reminded her of an old trinket her father had, it was a glass piece with sand inside of it, that when tipped one way of the other would create a timer. She remembered fondly how Salosoix would turn the timer around and challenge Raelynn to a task. Together they would count down the trickling sand. An exercise in his patience, and an exercise in her perseverance. She almost smiled.

The abrupt sound of a sword being placed on the table where they sat pulled her out of it. The sand was running out now.

There was something to be said for memories that invaded the mind at seemingly inopportune moments. To think of her father and their time together now was a beautiful escape to the situation at hand. If she only closed her eyes she could find the sands and find her father’s voice - his smile and eyes, the way he would carry her as a child on his shoulders through the streets of Daggerfall. She felt so tall then. She missed the innocence now and longed for it.

“May your roads lead you to warm sands…” she whispered over to Roux. He wouldn’t reply, but she could at least finish what he had tried to say. Maybe he was there now. She hoped he was.

Still she struggled against the ropes, but she was almost there. It was time to think of a plan - at least, if that’s really what she wanted to do. To escape? Would anyone come to her rescue? Did anyone know she was even here? She sighed desolately, and thought of her father once more. Their last conversation, she had snapped at him of course. Snapped at him for sending her out here…

---

“Papa, I have much more to do this afternoon than deliver packages for you!”

“Yes my darling, but I trust only you - you’ll be alright.”

“You can’t even lend me Zhaib? You don’t think it would be better that I have muscle with me? What is so important in this thing anyway?”

“Raelynn, Raelynn… Good things come in small packages. Remember that.”

---

Her eyes opened fully, and she looked across the room to another table, to the left of Roux. The package was sitting on top of it, completely untouched and completely unnoticed by Zaveed. Of course, it was so obvious now. There was something in there for her. Knowing that her father truly hadn’t sent her out here without a means to escape gave her an energy - a second wind, and with one final pull she was free of the ropes at last.

She would never make it to the table without catching their dangerous and unwanted attention, and she couldn’t take on three armoured Dwemer soldiers. She bit her lower lip, everything now felt desperate. As if by her knowing of the package, they would soon realise it too - they would see her body change, the sweat form on her brow, the desperation in her eyes - and they would realise what was going on. She had to think fast, but it was hard. Everything was foggy and clouded, her reaction time slow, concussion still hovering like a cloud above her - a cloud that with too much friction would burst and stop her in her tracks. Slow and steady was the way.

Raelynn pulled her knees together and sat in a straight, meditative pose as a blue and violet stream of Magicka swirled around her hands and up her wrist. Unlike her restorative stream, this Magicka was cold to the touch - cold and like a mist of water, a mist that was growing, until eventually with a flash and bang it opened a portal behind her and out jumped her familiar with an angry howl.

“What the fuck!?” called out one of the Dwemer as he shot to his feet with a start, clapping his eyes on the ethereal form of the wolf that was skulking towards him. There was something about this one that was extremely aggressive - as if it were feeding on the pain of it’s master sat in her chair. The hackles on it’s back raised and it seemed to puff out it’s shoulders to appear more intimidating, taking the powerful strides of an alpha wolf. It finalised on a spot in front of Raelynn as a low and threatening growl rumbling from the depths of it. She had their attention now. As the wolf lept from the platform, so did she, her clumsy sprint to the table was almost foiled by one of the Dwemer until her familiar grasped his wrist in it’s powerful jaws, locking down until it crunched under the weight like a piece of pottery. The Dwemer screamed out, and the two other guards fell to his aid, giving Raelynn enough time to tear open the package.

It was a Destruction Scroll. It was now or never, even just holding it in her hand empowered her, and she stood upright, her posture powerful and perfect as she stood above them on her platform. Roux’s body still in the chair behind her. Unlucky for the Dwemer, they were standing around their table which was sitting in a pool of still water. As the familiar danced around her enemies, she unrolled the scroll carefully but with haste - reading the text on the parchment - feeling the Magicka within enter her body with a forceful whoosh.

She had one shot, she wasn’t going to waste it.

As the thunder formed between her two hands, she realised that she had the attention of the Dwemer now, her familiar was nothing to them - they looked aghast, and she fired down at their feet - the puddle of water absorbing the spell. Nothing happened.

Nothing happened for a fraction of a second, but it was enough time for one of them to start to laugh. Raelynn knew better. She looked down at his feet in the water and smirked, and then there was an explosion of Chain Lightning that crackled between the three of them, forming a triangle of pain that was melting them - heating up their alloy armour and only getting worse. Their screams did not last long, and one by one their bodies dropped, trails of smoke drawn from each corpse.

As they dropped, so did she. She fell to her knees as her entire body shuddered, her mouth agape. She had really just done that. She had never killed a soul, and now - in the time it took her to read a spell scroll, she had taken three lives. It didn’t sit right with her. Greedy and terrible as she was, she had made an oath to help people, not hurt them. A horrible sensation hit her stomach and she lunged forwards, vomiting in panic on the ground. She cried out in pain and grief. The threat was gone and yet she was still bound here somehow. Bound to Roux. She turned to look at him, sat up there above her - as if he was looking down on her. “I’m so sorry…” she said to him, as she crawled on all fours to the deceased Breton, placing a hand on his knee, her own knees wading in the blood on the floor. It was cold now, he had been gone for so long. There was nothing she could do for him at this point.

Perhaps she could return to him some dignity…

She found the strength to get to her feet to position herself behind Roux’s chair to undo his ropes and hummed softly as she did so - trying to comfort him. His arms were stiff, and it took all of her strength to move him from the chair and even then, he still tumbled down and she struggled to manage the weight. Now that he was on the ground, she hooked an arm under each of his and dragged his body away from the blood, the chair, and towards the back of the platform. The young Breton laid him down on his back with his arms at his sides. While she was visibly shaken, positioning the body as she would to start death rites, the familiar padded softly to her and pressed it’s nose against her shoulder almost comfortingly - letting out a soft whine.

Her once vibrant eyes were so dull now. Void of their sparkle and beauty - and all that remained were two empty, hollow chasms surrounded by bloodshot veins, drenched in pooling tears. Raelynn came down to her knees and began to straighten out Roux’s clothing. She folded down his collar again and adjusted the chain around his neck to lie as it should - against his chest in the centre. With a gentle wave of her hand, she let restorative magic flow from her fingertips against the hole in his chest. Purely cosmetic now. Maybe someone would come and take his body and something would be done with it. He would make his way back to his family, to someone who loved him. They deserved to see his body right. He deserved to travel beyond in one piece.

To see him there, at peace now - part of her was envious. He lay there lifeless and she ran her hand over his cheek, continuing to hum softly, her lips trembling. If only she had water, she could clean him too - whatever she was doing wasn’t enough and in frustration she balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into the floor beside her. If there was pain she didn’t feel it - but she felt her knuckles get hot and start to swell, she merely gave a baleful laugh.

“Do you like songs?” she asked as she held his hand in hers. “Do you think they did?” her chilling stare fell over at the Dwemer corpses now, their flesh still smoking even now - the smell was especially repugnant. “I wonder what they liked…” she sighed dreamily, sliding off her knees - a concussive daze descending once more. The Breton pushed her legs out, stretching beside Roux, and she let herself drop backwards to lie next to him, her hand around his.

The two of them lay in the building, on their platform with the two chairs in front of them. It didn’t take long for Raelynn to realise what she was doing - how completely grim it was - how wretched her behaviour had become now. She bolted upright and crawled to the steps, away from the body - away from the temptation that ran rampant through her mind. The thoughts of warm sands and childhood innocence. All that was left was darkness, silence, and the cold chill of death in the air. She shuffled to the steps, placed her feet on the ground and took a long look around the warehouse before folding her arms over her knees and burying her head within them. A series of mournful and harsh sobs were muffled by her arms, but made a haunting sound that echoed through the room nonetheless.

The familiar, still summoned, and as if obeying the last sliver of hope that lingered within Raelynn made it’s way to the door silently and took to sitting outside, crying up at the moon.

Word association Game!

Heartbreak