Apathetic (Project Nemesis)

{7}

Morndas, 7th day of Sun's Height, 4E 200
...

"So, Bloodshed Family, aye? You won't happen to be related to Lord Gabriel Bloodshed?" Brynjolf crossed his arms, taking mental notes of the Twins' activities. Aine, who's busy hunching over the alchemy table while grinding hawk's feathers vigorously, turned her head to look at her brother. Aiden returned her questioning look with a shrug and went back to inspecting the now unconscious Raven.

"We are. The kind lord adopted us when we were still kittens. This one is thankful to be raised in such a noble house." The male khajiit spoke with a flat tone, indicating no note of gratitude following his words. The redhead thief scoffed, a mocking eyebrow raised.

"Oh, cut the royal crap, lad. Everyone knows the House of Bloodshed works with the Thalmor. That's how they earn their noble title, aye?"

Aine stops grinding the herbs and growled, but kept her back on them. Aiden huffed, storming out of the room, tail swishing around in anger.

"We owe you no explanation, nor a defense of our House's crimes. Khajiit have but one reason here in the College, to study the arcane arts. We prefer to not be affiliated with Lord Gabriel, yes, but he did took us in when our family abandoned us to die. This one thinks we owe at least gratitude for being given a second chance. "

The mage sighed, resuming her alchemy work. Brynjolf fell silent, feeling a bit guilty of accusing them. They are here to help him, after all. The least he could do is not to frame them as bad guys. The kids seems like nice people, they're just here to get away from the pressure.

He raked his hair and frowned, this whole thing is giving him a headache. As a thief, Brynjolf never really cared much for politics. As long there are jobs to do and nothing is in the way, he is more than happy to keep his mouth shut. So why did he suddenly attacked the poor cats for having an unfortunate last name?

"I'm... sorry, lass. I didn't know what came over me. You're just trying to help. "

The khajiit smiled and poured her potion into a bottle, sprinkling fire salts into it and shook it.

"It is alright. Khajiit knows you are stressed. Here, let us see if the potion works."

Aine sat on the edge of the bed, uncorked the bottle and motioned at Brynjolf to help sit Raven up. The undead whined, her rest disturbed. He supported her head on his chest, leaning on the bed frame. He didn't know it was possible for vampires to have such a high fever, but she is burning like a damned fire atronach.

The mage muttered some incantation, closed her eyes and sat criss crossed on the bed. Aiden came back inside shortly, face still a bit sour. Brynjolf smiled apologetically at him, which was returned with an eye roll. The khajiits took their place side by side, one busy flipping through the pages of a notebook, and the other casting a spell into the potion.

Golden wisps emitted from Aine's hand, casting a warm light around them. Brynjolf held his breath, there is silence except for low whispers, occasional notebook flips, and the gentle hum of the restoration spell.

After what felt like an eternity, Aine slammed her magic hand into Raven's arm and emptied the potion into Raven's mouth, opening her jaw with force. The vampire coughed and spat out a few drops, making crimson liquid drip out from her lips.

Brynjolf blinked, the potion took effect immediately. The dead skin wrinkles slowly tightens, gluing back into her slightly exposed rotting flesh. Her ears twitched, forehead scrunches in disgust. The scars and scratch marks reduces, now almost invisible. Her drawn lips displays her elongating fangs. Color came back into her once pale face, making her seem alive. It's strange, she looks... Healthy.