Origins

Si stellae vivere

I'm moving in.

I step through the hallway, shrugging off my jacket and folding it over my arm. I pull my dark brown hair out of the tight bun it was held in, letting it drop over my shoulders. I fidget with it momentarily in a reflective window, making it look presentable for the party I'll be infiltrating. I must say, I cannot wait. I didn't hesitate when given the job. My buyer, a man I owed my life to in the past, has sent me to assassinate the heir of a company. A company that has chosen to do more harm than good, my buyer had referenced more than once. The target, Ashton Charleston, is the son of the C.E.O, Malachi Charleston. He's to gain ownership of the company at the party today, which I've been given an invitation to.

My knuckle raps on the oak door in a specific, rhythmic manner. Morse code that spells out Si stellae vivere, Latin for "If the stars live." I have no idea what it's supposed to mean, but it's the code to get inside.

The door opened, and I was let inside. After a quick check of my bag and my pockets, I was free to explore the expertly decorated, ballroom-sized room, which I didn't hesitate to examine every corner. I drop my bag on a table, go through the items to be extra sure I have everything, and go off to explore. I nearly forgot about my objective, as I was quite fixated on the tapestry's patterns and colors. Every stitch looked as if it held a single word to a story, one that could be read upon close admiration. It had mostly shades of navy, violet, and a minty-green shade: an odd combination, but beautiful nevertheless. A man with sun-bleached hair and sea-colored eyes drew up beside me, seemingly amused by my admiration.

"Beautiful, no?" He spoke, gesturing to the tapestry. "I had quite a handful of designers bring it to light. I'm quite proud of this creation."

He had it made? I tilt my head slightly, smiling. "Yes, it's magnificent. I'm quite the artist myself, so it didn't take long to be transfixed." I run a finger over it hesitantly and gently. "Is it just me, or are there traces of red in here?"

He nodded. "Quite the eye, my friend! Yes, I wished to add a bit of a.. sacrificial ending. One that not many will find unless they look close enough." He turned to face me, a hand stuck out and a smile on his face. "I don't believe we've met, my dear. My name is Ashton Charleston."

Of course. My target has come to me. This makes things easier. "It's all my pleasure, Mr. Charleston," I take his hand, shaking it firmly. "My name is Elisabeth. Elisabeth Franklin."

My name isn't Elisabeth, obviously. It's an alias. But he won't know that. That's the fun of this job. I get to be a new person after every paycheck. Adds to the thrill.

He shook his head. "Ashton, please. Mister is much too formal for my likings. It sounds too much like my father." He gestures to his three-piece suit, saying with a chuckle, "Already, I am dressed like him. Please don't have me subjected to more torture than I can bare!"

I laugh. A real laugh, which surprises me. Here I was expecting my target to be a cold, dark fellow; all work and no play. Or a spoiled idiot that only cared about the next risk he could take. Certainly not a friendly gentleman with such a passion for stories, who seemed to dislike his father so much.

Ashton crossed his arms with a victorious smile. "There we go! The lady is enjoying herself, at last!" He leaned down close to my face, whispering, "I can tell you don't want to be here. Care for some fresh air?"

My face flushed. Not because of his face being so close to mine, but because of the thought crossing my mind that he knows.

Does he know? Does he know?

It buzzes in my head like a swarm of bees, annoying the heck out of me. I shrug, "You caught me! Fresh air sounds great right now, Ashton."

Use his name. First name. Makes him feel important. Special. Gets me closer. Closer to finishing the job. Don't get too distracted. This offer is the perfect opportunity.