Grave Mistakes [Daeron]

[KAN-ILUAM]

It was warmer than she remembered it being out near the border. Had things really changed so much in the past few decades? Sure, the wind still blew bitter cold, but it was not nearly as bad in the more northern parts of Skyrim such as Windhelm. The dark elf crouched down, the forest's thick foliage shielding her from detection. She peered past a tree trunk, the entrance of Falkreath within her sight. If the sun had not been out, she would have gone straight into the small town, but the sun's effect on her body and, more importantly, her ability to fight tended to make her overly cautious. One glance someone caught of her eyes and it was usually almost immediately on. She pulled her hood down over her eyes, cautiously making her way back to the path and toward Falkreath's entrance.

She was almost immediately questioned by the downright idiotic Nords who guarded the place. "Hold, outsider, what business do you have here?". Kan-Iluam kept her head down, daintily pausing before replying. "I've come to do business with your town's alchemist, Nord. Stay your hand." The guard's hand fell from his sword's hilt, and he moved out of her way. What with the war going on, it was much harder to get in and out of cities these days. Kan-Iluam frowned and moved through the near empty town, silently pushing the door to Grave Concoctions open. The shopkeeper only turned around to face her when she heard the door shut noisily. The Redguard smiled at her and beckoned her out of the shadows, toward the counter.

Kan-Iluam left that place so frustrated she had nearly been this close to draining that damn Redguard of her filthy mortal blood. Did she have anything of value in stock? No. Did she have anything hidden away in the back? No. She's lost valuable time already, she's expected back at the Guild in a few days to report to Delvin - spoils in hand. That aside, there was a Bosmer caravan passing through Riften in a few days, and by then she would have to feed, it would be an easy meal if she made it back. She was much better off collecting what reagents she could, damn that Zaria to Coldharbour...

The Southern reaches of Skyrim rarely held the proper ingredients she needed for her poisons and potions, well, especially when she created more of the former and less of the latter. Thieves in the Guild were more likely to ask her for an invisibility potion than a healing potion after all, so it was rare that she even collected the ingredients necessary to make any. She plucked a blue mountain flower from its stem and stuffed it into her satchel, a scowl plastered over her face. She really should get a thrall, then they could do this for her. Of course...the Guild might frown on that, she sighed, sometimes being with the Guild was more trouble than it was worth. How many times will they restrict her growing powers before she snaps, she wondered.

Kan-Iluam peered down below a small cliff and wrinkled her nose in suspicion at what she saw. A black pool, a few bushes of nightshade? That was highly uncommon....in any part of Tamriel that she had seen. She leaped down, taking a good look around for some sort of warlock or necromancer to melt out of the shadows. But there wasn't one, so she moved toward the Nightshade, her fingers carefully plucking several from the bush and pushing them into her satchel. At least something worked out, now all she needed some Luna Moth wings and some Blisterwort to be able to get through the coming weeks. Her red-orange eyes glanced past the bush of Nightshade she was crouching in front of, only to spy a black door with a skull on it. Curious...Kan-Iluam came to her feet, trying to remember where she might have seen that symbol before.

[DAERON]

It had been a long, stifling day in the Sanctuary, and Daeron was desperate for something to do. He'd been milling about the expansive hideout for too long, with nothing to do. The Sanctuary was just too damn quiet for his liking. Dae was a very sociable individual, and while he loved his profession, a lot of his Family were far too serious. Those who brought death upon others tended to be outliers and misfits; certainly, one would assume that a murderer would probably have problems socialising. Daeron had never really been like that. He'd fell into the assassination business at a relatively young age, and it was just a part of life to him now. He was still very fond of the company of others, and he liked to be around similarly upbeat individuals. While he bid unfaltering loyalty to his Brothers and Sisters, his commitments didn't mean that he always enjoyed being around them.

The Bosmer stood up from where he had been relaxing on his bed, stretching and glancing around the Sanctuary. It was quite a beautiful place, really, although it had fell into slight ruin over the last few years. Despite the crumbling appearance of some of the room, the natural scenery of the lush ferns and the bubbling waterfall gave it a dark beauty. The addition of a mysterious stone wall, adorned with glowing runes and humming with energy really finished off the mysterious a atmosphere. Daeron breathed in the cool, damp air of the caverns. This was Sanctuary. This was home.

But by Sithis, was it boring!

The assassin shook his head as he crossed the main room of the Sanctuary. He never doubted the power of the Dark Brotherhood, but... it was true that the Family had fallen into a slight state of disrepair. He was sure that things would pick up soon enough, but until then, things were slow. There were less contracts, due to the lack of a Listener, and the Family was smaller than it had probably ever been. The small elf paused in front of the curious, smooth wall, tilting his head at the odd runes. Would the Listener be able to decipher them, he wondered? Or was this some sort of power that exceeded even the knowledge of the Night Mother's protégé?

Daeron shook his head again. The stifling silence of the Sanctuary was getting to him, and he was dwelling on things that didn't matter. The wall was just another curiosity of his home; it would probably remain a mystery to him and his Family forever. He rolled his eyes at himself, turning towards the stairs that led to the planning room of the Brotherhood. His dark brown eyes skimmed over the map on the table - another feature of the Sanctuary that didn't make sense to him, for what on Nirn did those markers mean?- before he pushed open the heavy Black Door, stepping out into the pine forests of Falkreath.

The Wood Elf had had extensive training as an assassin. He'd been taught to expect problems with difficult targets, and for things to not always go entirely to plan. He'd been taught that the unexpected would often happen, and that to be a successful assassin, one would need to think on their feet and overcome such problems. But he'd never really been taught what to do, if you came face to face with a Dark Elf peering curiously at your Sanctuary.

Well, darting back into the Sanctuary would only leave her wondering what was behind the door, and that meant that she would be likely to come back. Killing her could work, but Daeron relied on stealth, and the other elf had certainly already seen him. He quickly swung the Black Door shut, before the Morrowind native could see what lay beyond it, and leant against the skull-adorned door.

"Can I help you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms. By Sithis, this woman had some guts. Most travellers sensed the vibe of death and danger around the ominous door, and fled immediately. But she'd not only approached the door; she'd been picking the nightshade that aptly grew around the Sanctuary. Damn curious alchemists.

[KAN-ILUAM]

Had she even seen these symbols before? Or was her mind tricking her into a sense of familiarity through her own longevity. Her eyes narrowed, slowly coming to the conclusion that skulls and crossbones were nothing to be too overly concerned with. The number of organizations in Tamriel who put such images on their banners were usually....tooting their own horns more than what was deserved. Kan-Iluam straightened up, the sound of a heavy door being pushed open causing the vampire to tense and lower her head in order to shield her eyes. From what she could tell from the movement of his feet, he had quickly slammed the door shut - putting himself between her and it. Oh good, now she's in for it. Well, if she were mortal - if he tried anything, a good look at her face might do the trick to make him think twice.

Kan-Iluam grunted. "Doubt it." A few sparks fell from her fingertips, preferring to maintain her distance from the Bosmer. Briefly, she considered feeding off of him, but then quickly concluded that it would be more trouble than it was worth if there were more of his ilk behind the door. Her free hand fiddled with the Nightshade bush. She wasn't going to bother asking what was behind the door, knowing she would never get a straight answer...or worse she would get a sword to the chest. Kan shifted her weight onto her right leg, "Perhaps you would have less travelers at your door if you got rid of all the reagents you have here." The Dunmer lifted her head, her orange-gold eyes boring into the Bosmer. Her lips parted slightly, curved canines poking at her lower lips.