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The thirst chapter 6

Started by Beowulf
Post #19297

Likes Given: 45
Likes Received: 144
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact (Nord)
Silvanus awoke to find Othrelos dead. He was lying peacefully, the vampire noted, even though he was bound in a most uncomfortable position. Dried blood was crusted all over his face, chest, and neck. At first, Silvanus was not certain he was dead.
"Othrelos?" he heard a muffled grunt, and turned his head to see Cosnach, the large blond oaf, rolling over in his sleep. But Silvanus had heard no reply from the Dunmer. "Othrelos?" he spoke a little louder. But still, no reply. It was warm inside his bed, and Silvanus did not want to leave it, but unwillingly kicked back his bedclothes, and got up, rubbing his eyes blearily. He stumbled over to the Dunmer, and pressed two, thin fingers to his neck. No pulse. Silvanus sighed. "Oh. He's dead." then he fainted backwards.
"Wake up, Sil. Wake up. Your elf friend... He's dead." Silvanus felt rough hands pawing at his face. Batting his cousin away, he sat up, and looked around slowly. He was so tired he could barely believe it, and he could feel sleep dust in his eyes. His head ached from where he'd banged it, and he felt miserable. "Yes, I know. What time is it?"
"About lunchtime. I'd bring you food, but..." Cosnach chuckled awkwardly. He was fully dressed, and his hair was combed. He looked quite handsome. Cosnach knelt down, and picked up a set of clothing: black leggings, a navy tunic, and soft, felt boots. He handed them to Silvanus, who took off his ripped trousers, and began to wash himself in the basin in the corner of the room. When he was done, he pulled on the clothing, and sat down wearily, staring at the dead body. He felt... numb. This man, who he'd confided in, had cared for even though they'd only met so briefly... was dead. He felt bleak. Silently, he got up, and went to the cupboard, pulling out a bottle of ale. Stuffing it in his stolen belt-pouch he got up. And, without another word, he picked up the body. It was heavy, and a huge burden on his adolescent body. But he didn't care. He could barely feel the weight. Pulling the corpse into a firemans lift, he walked to the door, and kicked it open. He could barely hear Cosnach's shout behind him. Nor could hear the yells and jeers of the other Warrens residents.
"Hey, look, the little girls got a body!" and "Oi, Silvanus, leave the killing to the big boys, why dontcha?" and other things like that. But Silvanus couldn't hear them. His heart was all that he could hear. And his friend's last words. Silvanus wasn't sure if he wanted to join the Dark Brotherhood, who'd been trying to kill him. Especially not under a different name...


"Pollux... By Talos..." he kicked open the door out into Markarth. The weight on his shoulders was more noticeable now. Where would he bury Othrelos? Did assassins ever have a true grave? He grinned despite himself. Maybe he should just dump Othrelos in the river, like what happened to most assassins... "But still... Lose the name Silvanus, and just be Pollux?" he muttered to himself. He knew he must look insane, talking to himself, but he didn't care. It wasn't like he'd ever go back to Markarth anyway. Then he had an idea.

Silvanus trudged into town, towards the Hags Cure. Muiri, his friend who worked there, would no doubt sell nightshade, and know a place where he could bury the Dunmer. However, he did feel a little unease. He and Muiri had been... more than friends at one point. However, their break up had not been painless at all. Many angry letters, hired thugs, and all sorts had ensued. But he and Muiri had settled their differences well, and now were rather good friends. But, as he pushed the door open to the Hags Cure, he did pray that she was in a good mood.

She was standing behind the counter, serving a wealthy looking Redguard man. Muiri had cut her hair short, Silvanus noticed, and it was no longer dirty blonde, more a mouse brown. She looked rather gaunt, and her face was smeared with some sort of blue paint. Her eyes, once sparkling and full of life, were a dull brown. She looked... older. And odd. Silvanus wasn't sure he liked it all. But it wasn't just that... She looked... miserable. Used. Worn. Or maybe it was just his imagination? Shrugging it off, he walked forwards to wait behind the Redguard. Muiri hadn't seemed to have noticed he was there yet. She'd just accepted a pouch of septims from the man, and he was walking away. It was just her and he in the store now. And Othrelos' body.

Her back was to him when she first spoke.
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Muiri? It's me." She turned around slowly, eyes still shut. Slowly, she opened them. And gasped.
"Silvanus Coppercroft!" she smiled, and her face looked unatural; the wide grin stretched her features oddly. He remembered her smile differently. Cheery. Not like this... this was almost pained. "How are you? But..." her eyes flitted to the body on his back. She raised a hand to her mouth. "Sil, you haven't... Who's that...? I mean... I heard. About you. And your father... What... What on earth?" "I'll explain another time. But now... Listen, do you sell Nightshade?" she glanced at him, unnerved by the random question, but nodded slowly. Raising a finger for him to wait, she ducked down under the counter, and pulled a few drawers open. He sighed, and tapped his foot, but eventually she surfaced, holding a basket full of purple flowers. He breathed in discreetly, hoping to get some little bit of Astrid's scent, but only smelt death. Opening his eyes, disappointed, he rummaged in his belt-pouch. Pulling out a coin purse that had, earlier conviniently "fallen" into his inventory, he put it down on the table. He knew it contained around 20 septims. Hoping that would be enough, he glanced at Muiri. Seeing her suspicion, he grunted, took out his tiny razor-like dagger (he'd hidden his ebony dagger in his bag), and slit the purse open. A few septims dribbled onto the counter, and Muiri smiled, sweeping them into a drawer along with the purse. "Take the basket. You haven't exactly paid enough, but I'm sure you'd do the same for me." Muiri smiled at him. Silvanus, hoping that the fact he certainly damn wouldn't wasn't showing on his face, smiled back, and shifted the body on his shoulders. Muiri's smile faded. "Muiri, listen, the reason I wanted nightshade was because my friend Othrelos died last night. I was also wondering... where in this city can I bury him?"
"Hall of the Dead, but..."
"No, I mean, somewhere like a garden. Somewhere not public..." realising how suspicious he sounded, he put a hand on her arm. She flinched, but gazed up into his eyes. Trusting. Not knowing the demon within. "Listen, Muiri, just trust me on this, okay? He wasn't exactly... someone who was well-liked in the community. If I put his body in a public place, it would be desecrated. Please... Just please; does the Hags Cure have a garden?" "Yes. Bothela will let you bury him there... Wait." Muiri retreated, and after a few moments, returned with an old woman. Silvanus nodded at her, and she smiled back, showing vicious teeth.

"Well well. Silvanus Coppercroft. Haven't we grown up?" Bothela was almost flirtatious with him. Silvanus shut his eyes, almost in pain, and let her stroke his face. Opening his eyes, he saw Muiri was laughing behind her hand. He scowled at her, and hoped that the point was got across to Bothela. Luckily, she seemed to understand, and took her knarled old hand away, as if burned. But, she touched his forehead, and closed her eyes. "I can sense the anger inside of you, boy. I see a fair, mysterious stranger in your future, pah!" she spat into the fire. Silvanus recoiled, thinking fast. Sliding the Dunmer off his back onto the floor, he took both of the woman's wrinkled old hands in his own urgently.
"Who are you talking about? The fair mysterious stranger, who is she? Do you see a name..." but he walked away. He felt an urge to stab the woman in the throat for daring to even think that sort of thing... He was crazy. He didn't even know what Astrid LOOKED like! Well, that wasn't strictly true. He'd milked Othrelos for every last detail, but... Why was he so obsessed with this woman, who he'd never met? Spitting on the floor, he wiped his face angrily with his fist. Bothela was not looking at him; she was looking curiously at the body. That reminded him of the reason he'd come to the Hags Cure in the first place.

"Please can I bury my friend in your garden? I swear, I'll bury him deep. He died happy, he won't haunt..."
"Shut up, boy."

He walked towards her swiftly, and grabbed her by the throat, slamming her up against the wall. Breathing hard, hearing Muiri screaming, he raised his ebony dagger to the woman's neck. She was laughing. "Don't tell me to shut up." he hissed, raising his knee in between her legs hard, suspending her in mid-air on his knee. She was laughing. Pushing her hard, he dropped his knee, and let her fall to the floor. He grabbed Othrelos' body, hauled it over his shoulder, and dragged it out into the garden, pulling Muiri along with him by the hand. He glared at her furiously, and she saw what he wanted her to do. Terrified, she used telekenisis to lift a huge lump of earth out of the earth. Othrelos, speedily in case Bothela had called the guards, dropped Othrelos in, and nodded for Muiri to dump the dirt back in. He kneeled by it for a moment, whispered some comforting words, and ran, after hugging Muiri, and kissing her pale cheek. Then, he sprinted out of the city, tormented by Bothela's insane laughter.

He awoke that night covered in his own blood and tears. He didn't know why he'd done that... Something had controlled him. Possessed him. He felt like some evil thing had grabbed his innards, and twisted them into doing that... Maybe some Daedric Prince... But no. If it had been a Daedric Prince, then he would, for certain, have slaughtered the woman then and there. And probably Muiri as well. But, no, he'd let her live. Fury had filled him, but he'd let the old bat live. Snarling, he got up, and punched the wall. It was only then, he realised where he was. Windhelm... How the hell... But he was dragged out of thought by a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Err, hey, you know, you never paid to keep your horse here..." a plump, young looking Altmer stablehand was grinning uncertainly at him. Silvanus got up blearily and, looking around, saw they were alone. "When and how did I get here?"
"A few hours ago, friend. On a horse. Looked like you were being chased by Sithis himself..." the stablehand was annoyingly cheery. Silvanus nodded his thanks, then, withdrawing his dagger, stabbed the Altmer quickly through the heart. Then, kneeling down next to the gasping elf, he smirked sadistically, as he sunk his fangs into his neck.
"Sorry, but I don't pay for things. Just a little tip." then, after drinking his fill, the Breton tore himself away, and wiped his mouth. Immediately, he felt better. Bloodlust, he thought thankfully, as he went over to the horses water trough, withdrew a handful of water, and began to clean his bloody face. Thank the Gods, he thought, as he watched the crimson dissolve away into the water. Only bloodlust. Well, he supposed, he had become increasingly thirsty recently. He'd drained Othrelos, and had sneakily drained Cosnach a little too. But, even after draining the Altmer stablehand dry, he could still feel a hunger aching away in his belly. Wondering if he shouldn't break into a house and have a little feast, he wandered into Windhelm.

It was about six in the morning, and most people were still asleep. However, Silvanus could see the early morning trickle of people sleepily stumbling to work. He wondered if he'd bump into Ralof, the blond Nord he'd met at Helgen. He hoped he'd got out alive. Silvanus grinned at the thought of Lokir trying to run away, and being shot down by arrows. "You're not gonna kill meeee!" Silvanus mimicked quietly, and laughed. A burly, dark haired Nord leaning against a wall gave him a strange look, and Silvanus smirked nastily at him. Maybe, if he lured him into an alley, he could... He smashed into a tall, pretty woman. She swore loudly. "Shit! Watch where you're going!" "Calm down, Susanna. Don't want a pretty lady like yourself getting hurt." The dark haired man snorted. He was looking at Susanna lustily.
"Oh come on Rolff. The little girl," she smirked at Silvanus, who growled. "Couldn't hurt me." "Can I intervene?" Silvanus pulled out his dagger, and pointed it at Susanna. She snorted. "Oh please. How can you even lift that little butter-knife, Breton? Is it too heavy for you?" she and Rolff laughed. Silvanus smiled too. "Okay. I'll show you." and with that, he stabbed her into the throat. Quickly, he turned around, and did the same to Rolff. They both died quickly. Dragging them into an alley, Silvanus drank all the blood he could swallow. Then, feeling a little bloated, he staggered away, leaving their mangled bodies out for the dogs.

Silvanus found the Gray Quarter quickly, with no directions. It was full of Dark Elves: talking, wandering around, buying things... They paid little attention to him as he walked by, although some Dunmer children gave him curious glances. Finally, he came to what he was looking for.

A burnt ruin.

He looked at it, feeling only slight sadness. Mostly, he just felt angry. Angry at the Nords who did this. He'd slaughtered Rolff and Susanna. He'd killed two of those who'd done this to Othrelos and his family. So now... just the nightshade. Slowly and carefully, he placed all of the flowers in a pile. Then, after bowing his head respectfully, he walked away.
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The following 3 users Like Beowulf's post:
Abisu, Iogairn, Yatur gro-Ushul
Post #19310

Likes Given: 348
Likes Received: 259
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact
I like the way Silvanus cares for Othrelos' body, even though they never truly met each other. I seem to like him despite the apparent fact he's a bastard.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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