[center][h1]Old Ghosts...[/h1][/center] 4th of Midyear, 4e208 Gilane, Hammerfell Smoldering Bridges, Soot Fingers... [hr] The [I]Indrik[/I] was like all the ships in the Dominion navy dating back to even before Tiber Septim. Resplendent in glory, adorned with banners of coats-of-arms of the captains all the way back to the first. It had sailed the seas longer than most men had lived, holding true against the years just as well as against tempests and rogue waves and boarding parties. Tonight, it was Gilane’s honor to have her make port in its harbor. A couple guards with the misfortune of drawing the shortest straws for nightwatch sat on the topdeck, sharing a bottle of wine. They had been laughing about something or other for the past hour now. So hard and so drunkenly, that neither of them noticed the dark mass that silently slipped into the ship’s underbelly through the hatch in the deck. Moving like solidified shadow, the crew slept soundly over his footfalls. One roaming crew member had the misfortune of wandering into his path. Dumbfounded, he locked eyes with the Khajiit. The hazel eyes were level with his own, cold, flat. That was the last thing he saw before a flash of movement and then all was void. Sevari had prepared himself months in advance for this mission. Going over the overarching goal of the operation, going through his compartmented section of the entirety of the Penitus Oculatus’ mission here, and completely fixated on this single night. Emissary Syintar’s father had been one of the Thalmor responsible for the death of his brothers back in Elsweyr, ordering the Bhaanu Sasra assassination and the public display of their bodies, bloated and stinking from the lamp-post in front of the local tea shop they had all favored as a meeting spot after assignments that would have them going abroad. It was a message to Sevari and Suffian. A message, those long years ago, that if they knew what was good for them they would leave forever or be killed brutally and savagely. It was Sevari’s turn to see Fangalto Syintar drop to his knees at the sight of his son’s naked and gutted form swaying in the breeze of a Gilane street. Called from his home in Alinor to Hammerfell just to drop to his knees and plead the Gods for mercy on his son’s soul. To bear the weight of a father who had to bury his son, and not the other way around, until he joined his wife in the next plane at the end of Sevari’s blade. It was a thought that set Sevari’s lips to smiling for the first time in a very long time as he stalked the halls of the ship, the creaking of the wood hull rocking with the night tides lending an ambience to the scene. Finally, at the end of a long hallway, the gilded doors to Erincaro’s chambers. Always one for opulence and splendor were the Altmer. Sevari took a step forward before he heard the door opening from the other end of the hall, and then a few high laughs, kept quiet like two giggling child crushes not wanting to wake anyone. Sevari leaned out of his hiding spot and squinted, seeing Erincaro tip-toe out of his room with a Khajiit in tow, both of their heads of hair mussied up. [hr] It was an unconventional, and somewhat taboo, relationship that had the seeds planted when she was very young and first conscripted into the military academy where Erincaro had been one of the instructors, teaching military history and diplomacy in lieu of martial prowess. The young Khajiit had taken well to her training; already a scrappy fighter from her time on the streets, having a warm bed and three proper meals a day revitalized the young girl in ways that broke morale on the other cadets. She blossomed into a rather striking young woman, with amber eyes and a chocolate coat of fur and an ornately braided mane atop her crown, the Khajiit had grown powerful and decisive, favouring a greatsword above other weapons and becoming one of the academy’s most promising students. The Altmer had forgotten when their forbidden attraction came into fruition. Perhaps it was the late nights speaking of literature, her willingness to take on other lessons, a mutual appreciation for one another’s people. Although he was a member of the Thalmor, it was more for political clout than sharing a worldview with the more mainline party members; Erincaro loved the Aldmeri Dominion, and although he came from a refined upbringing, his heart always yearned for the wild lands and people of the Altmer’s princinpal allies, the Bosmer and the Khajiit. They were new, exotic, and the more he was stationed in Valenwood, Anequina, or Pelletine, he grew to appreciate them even more. It was so much more exciting than the boring class hierarchy of Summerset, and the obsession with perfection and the trite propaganda decrying the races of men as wrongful usurpers to the natural order; he discovered among the rest of the Dominion a sense of joy and wonder that he often tried to share with his fellow Altmer, to various degrees of success. So when he came across a scrawny girl fending off a half dozen trained and armoured guards after they caught her stealing food, he knew that she was going to be something special. And so she was. Now she was 38 years old and an accomplished infantry commander and now personal bodyguard at his request for this particular assignment, she had given the Dominion as much as it had given her, and even her Thalmor superiors respected her capability and capacity for duty, as well as begrudgingly tolerated her lack of deference towards political machinations. She simply could not be bothered with anyone unless they proved their worth in a tangible way; for someone who was born on the streets, someone who grew up with a silver spoon lodged up their ass didn’t entitle them to respect. Their ability to get things done did. They were a kindred set of spirits, he knew. For a while, it had been a hush hush romance, behind the scenes as if it were shameful, but as word got out and repercussions were not severe, it became an openly known thing that they were an item, and they crew of the [I]Indrik[/I] didn’t suffer for it. “Feeling better after your failed meeting with the governor?” she asked him, trying to tidy up her hair as she walked. Her stupidly large sword was a constant companion, even to the bed chamber, and a dagger was strapped to her waist. He knew she was equally proficient with both. “Oh, perhaps a few more nights of this, my love.” he snickered and leaned in for a kiss, which she returned. “We just have to act in good faith until she sees our intentions are sound.” “Hopefully sooner, rather than later. I’d like to stretch my legs and see something other than the docks.” the Khajiit mused, stretching out a kink in her arms. “Well, I must retire for now to compiling my report.” The Altmer rolled his eyes. “I’ve put it off for far too long. Rendezvous in an hour or so?” “Agreed. I’ll be topside, the night air will be good, I think.” she said, heading down the hallway, and leaving Erincaro to his work. [hr] Sevari sat and waited for the small commotion to die down. Perhaps for longer than he would have if he hadn’t heard something familiar in that Khajiit’s voice. He had a job to do, this night was years and years in the making. Finally, he pried himself from his hiding spot after he heard the doors to Erincaro’s chambers click shut. Noiselessly, he bounded down the hall, assisted by a muffle spell. Now, he stood before the door to his goal here. It would only take a turn of the handle and then a few seconds to slit Erincaro’s throat at his desk. But that Khajiit. He felt a wrenching at his heart the more he thought on where he’d heard that voice before. He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding against each other as his hand hovered over the handle of Erincaro’s door. Only a few centimeters more and this could all be set in motion. His revenge here in Hammerfell would be underway. He lay his hand on the handle and breathed a sigh onto the stagnant air of the ship’s halls. [hr] The night air was cool, and above, no clouds marred the brilliant night display of stars and gassy clouds far up in Aetherius that captured the Khajiit’s imagination as she leaned against the gunwale, staring wistfully at the endless expanse above, much as she had done ever since she was but a cub and wishing for greater things for herself. The trip to Hammerfell, or Volenfell, the same name by different tongues, was a nice break from the usual tedium of garrison duty and long range patrols near the Cyrodiilic border. For one, she didn’t have to wear her armour all of the time, and another it was almost like a working vacation for her and Erincaro. If they’d just let her into the city. She sighed, looking towards the dim glow of street lamps of Gilane’s streets, the province of Hammerfell a mystery to her, but an enticing one. It was like Senchal, but without the filth and reek of desperation and corruption. However, she knew it was just because of her predisposition to hating her “home”; you don’t grow up a starving orphan and have fond memories of waking up in the gutter. “It’s you, isn’t it?” A voice came from behind her. Turning around with her blade at the ready, the length of it resting on her arm, the Khajiit faced the voice that came out of the dark. She didn’t recognize it as one of her crewmates, and it was certainly a peculiar question to ask. She took in the face of the newcomer, an Ohmes-raht with a shaggy head of hair and tired eyes. No weapons were held at the ready, but he was dressed almost like the locals. “Everyone’s someone to somebody. You’re trespassing, stranger.” She replied coolly, staring suspiciously at the face. There was something familiar about it, but her mind wasn’t lighting up. “I don’t blame you, Marassa.” Sevari’s voice almost faltered at saying her name, knowing what he saw. She was in such love with the son of the man who’d ordered his brothers slaughtered, not even like lambs. Like pests. It didn’t make him hate her, oddly. It made him want to just give it all up and sink back to nothingness. “Your brother didn’t recognize me at first either.” A long and slow blink crossed her eyes and the blade faltered for a moment; memories of a lifetime ago came rushing back. The boy she loved as a girl, now a man, and in Hammerfell of all places. [I]Wait… brother?[/I] “Sevari?” she spoke the word, as if remembering what it sounded like, the entire situation seemed impossible, stupid even. There was no way this was real. “This is a long time coming. No visit, no card? ” she asked sarcastically, the scorn came naturally to her; it was like when they had first met. Her face contorted into a scowl when she saw her necklace she gave him so long ago. “So, you held onto it after all these years. Here I was thinking you feared commitment so you ditched me without a word. Why are you here, what is this about my brother?” she demanded. Sevari looked away from her, almost in shame as he rolled his shoulders back in a vain effort to hide the necklace. After all the things he did to try to stay true to his family despite the things he was forced into, it was thrown in his face. If he were a younger Khajiit, perhaps he would’ve met her anger. But he only shook his head, “He also had the same scorn.” “I didn’t believe him, you know, the first time he told me about how far you’d gone.” Sevari said, “I know you’re angry, I know you hate me. I just wanted to see if it was really you.” And at this time? He chided himself, so unprofessional when vengeance was so close, the thing he wanted most in life, the thing he thirsted for, starved for, tossed in his dreams about. But looking at the bridges burnt, looking at what he sowed, right in the eyes and having it stare him down. For some reason, hearing the same anger and resentment from Marassa hurt that bit more than from Zaveed, as shameful and wrong as it was. “Why him?” He whispered out. “Of all people?” Marassa scoffed at him. “Oh, was I supposed to stay single and celibatete in case you returned to me? We were bloody children, Sevari; you being upset at my choice of lovers is just pathetic. I found a kindred soul and turned what could have been a terrible situation into an actual life, is that what you're jealous of? That I made something of myself?” she tossed her arm out and bashed it into her chest. “You wanted to know if it was me? Well here I am. Life moves on, Sevari; maybe you should have stopped dwelling in the past.” “A fucking Altmer.” He grit his teeth, “You two have changed so much, your brother and you. I don’t blame you for finding another lover. To be honest, Marassa,” he sighed, feeling all too sheepish at all this, “I’m happy. But not about him. His father killed my brothers.” “I shouldn’t have even talked to you.” He shook his head, “My only regret is if I don’t do this tonight, there will be others coming for him, your Knife-Ear.” “For what it’s worth, I was going to kill him even before I knew you two were involved.” He breathed in and then out slowly, feeling the familiar tingling numbness of a mage armor spell envelope him. The sword was held at the ready. “Oh, so you became an assassin. Isn't that charming.” she replied, beginning to pivot herself toward the door that led below deck. “I shout, you die. You cannot judge a man for the crimes another commit, but thanks for the warning. I guess I'll have more assassins to put down when the time comes.” she stood her ground, her stance lowering. “Do not make me kill you, Sevari. It would put quite the damper on our reunion.” “It was ruined when I knew you liked Knife-Ears. You always did have a knack for being angry at almost everything that comes across your path. We were so alike.” He scowled, forgoing the drawing of his own blade. He wouldn’t kill his old love, but what were a few bruises if she was so set on doing her job. He felt like a fucking child letting resentment like this grip him with such steadfastness, but there was a job that needed doing, “Shout, then. This isn’t my first time facing down shit odds.” “This is your first time facing me. You won’t like those odds.” Marassa promised. She shook her head, annoyed. “You know, this wasn’t how I pictured our reunion going. I thought you, Zaveed, and myself would meet up one day, and laugh like we were young because of all of the divergent insanity our lives became. Who do you work for?” “Oh, trust me, I thought the same before I found out you were fucking the son of my brothers’ killer.” He spat, “Sometimes life gives you the shit roads. I’ll tell you this much about why mine has brought me here, my friends don’t like yours.” “Some friends, you look pretty lonely and you’re moping about a girl you ditched decades ago. You sure this isn’t just a suicide mission? It looks like the only thing you cared about is what happened to your brothers so very long ago. I’m telling you, Erincaro isn’t his father. Don’t be an idiot, Sevari; I do not wish to kill you.” She replied tersely. “Wouldn’t you rather spend more time making snide comments about my life choices like I give a shit about what you think? A much more productive use of both of our time than me bisecting you.” “I’ve had a lot of people tell me they were going to be my killer.” Sevari threw his hands out beside him, shrugging, “Sevari yet lives, unless I’m his ghost. Either way, I could give a shit if Fangalto’s son was a choir boy in a temple. He’s a means to an end.” “Lower your blade,” he said, putting a hand out, “If I wanted Erincaro dead tonight you would’ve slipped into his chambers and cuddled a gutted man. I saw you and I wanted to know the woman you’d become.” He looked her up and down in her clothes, strong like she always was but beauty had replaced her adorableness as a child, “It seems the Dominion even took my street family. I’ll tell it like I told your brother, the Bhaanu Sasra didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye. For what it’s worth, and probably shit all to you as it’s been for your brother, I would’ve never left you if it was my choice. We wouldn’t be eyeing each other’s blades.” “Fuck the Bhaanu Sasra and fuck you, Sevari. You don’t get to decide that you felt bad about leaving us, leaving [I]me[/I], and not even doing anything. Shout, kick at us, wake us up. We thought you died, and until tonight, I accepted that. Look at where I am now; I was actually given a life by this Dominion you hate so much, and here you are threatening the family that took me in when you left me. It’s your loss, Sevari, not mine.” Marassa shot back caustically, reluctantly lowering her sword. Her hand clenched into a fist before she released her tension. “So, my brother, huh? Is he here, too?” “I doubt you’d like what he’s become, either.” Sevari shook his head, “But at least you two are on the same side. He’s not the sweet boy anymore but who of any of us can say we’re still what we were back in Senchal?” “He’s a whoring, sadistic, ruthless prick of a man but I’m still trying to be his brother through all of this.” Sevari said before he continued, voice heavy, “But that’s never going to be an option for us two, is it?” “I met him six years ago for the first time since I was arrested, actually. He’s all of what you said, and more. Our duties took us separate ways, but he actually made an attempt to find me again… he just needed his own ship before that was feasible.” She extended out her hand to him. “Come on, let’s end this. Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m in a better place and this fool’s errand you’re on can die. It took me time to get over you being dead, so please don’t make me go through that again. We can start over, maybe not the same way, but you can actually belong somewhere. If anything we had meant anything to you, here and now, then please let this go.” Sevari shook his head, sighing long, “You and I both know that with you is the last place I can belong.” Sevari said, looking away from her and out at sea, “The Dominion still wants me dead for murder of more than a few Thalmor, for desertion, for treason, espionage for a foreign enemy. My being with you would benefit you more if instead of a tight hug it was tight chains. At least then maybe you’d be richer for it.” “You think we can’t get you new documents, a new life?” Marassa shot back, stepping closer to him. “And who do you think I am? I’d never turn you over, not for anything. The only reason we’re talking is because I want to get through your big, thick head of yours that what we had, some of that still matters. I can make it work. I [I]will[/I] make it work. You just need you to say yes.” “No.” Sevari whispered, and for the first time in years since they’d seen each other, Marassa could see wet at the edges of his eyes, “I can’t just walk away, pretend to be someone else under the thumb of [i]my brothers’ killers. My mother’s killers[/i], I still haven’t forgotten what they did to her.” “So, no, Marassa.” He put a hand on the hilt of his curved Torval blade, looking at the ground and breathing heavy, “Shout if you want to.” He didn’t give her the chance to, letting go a strong burst of magicka from his palm that coalesced into a bright magelight spell, ducking and launching himself to Marassa’s left, looking for an opening for the door below deck. It was a trick she knew too well; she had done it enough times to shield her eyes when the first hints of white had appeared in Sevari's palm. She heard his steps rushing past, and towards the sound, she let her greatsword sink through the air. “We've been boarded!” she shouted, “To arms!” Others who had been on the deck immediately sprung into movement, heading towards Marassa's call. She found the door below opened; time was running short. Sevari was going to murder Erincaro, and she would not tolerate the attempt. She raced down the corridors of the ship, shouting for the sailors and marines to take up arms, and her eyes scanned the dark corners for her former lover and current murderous madman in the belly of the [I]Indrik[/I], praying he wasn’t already successful in his plot. There was a chance the boy she knew still existed, deep down, but all of that wouldn’t matter if he killed Erincaro. She’d see him flayed for that. She reached the cabin at the very end where Erincaro was last seen, and he stepped out, partially armoured and a conjured sword in hand along with sparks in another. “What’s going on?” he demanded. Marassa’s heart skipped a beat when Erincaro emerged, unscathed. “Oh, you know, ex-boyfriend got jealous and wants to murder you for your father’s crimes.” she responded flippantly, ushering him back into the door. “Stay in there, let me keep you save, as I’ve always done.” The Altmer didn’t question any of it, although as he stepped back, he said, “You’re going to have to explain all of that to me, because this is nonsense.” “Believe me, I know.” Marassa agreed, a ward coalescing in her hand as she took up position before the doorway. “Now shut up and don’t die, sir.” [hr] Sevari watched them scurry about like ants from his perch. Klaxons were blaring all the while. He couldn’t believe it, to see Marassa so grown and yet so in love with a Thalmor Emissary. The son of the man who ordered his brothers killings. He shook his head, the weight of the years between his disappearance and their reunion bearing down on his shoulders. It hurt him to know that there would always be an enmity between him and Zaveed, but seeing all this made him all the more heartbroken. It wouldn’t be good when they found out that the Emissary was not dead tonight, but not all was lost. They’d have other chances, if Sevari didn’t scare them off with this damned stupid wasted reunion. For so many years he had been the heartless professional. Adding family into the mix was breaking that from him, it seemed. He sighed once more, before disappearing back into the night. Zaveed would want to know about his sister’s whereabouts.