Fields of Crimson

An Unlikely Meeting

Vanikath's eyes leisurely traveled from Bratis, to Akhira, and lastly returned to Bratis' crumpled form among the settling path of dirt. He wanted to execute him, terribly, just to have a living and breathing target to mutilate his frustrations out on. He was reluctant not to draw another curved blade, he refused to use a hand in magic. That was no fun, it ended far too quickly. He preferred a slow and messy death over a clean and quick one whether or not that was his primal instinct or sadistic nature. He didn't know what to make of this predicament, and he certainly didn't recognise his dear ol' childhood friend nor the High Elf (if he had ever seen him before around the village). Vanikath had always been quite the recluse, even as a young child, but not without good reason. He was born a killer, and raised in a household of highly trained and skilled assassins; the more he aged, the more roguish he became and looked. "Aye, but I only speak what I've observed. You ran from the direction of the pub and you smell like it. Unless my eyes and nose are deceiving me, and I don't garner you visited there for idle chitchat, hm?" He mockingly chuckled, a low muffled sound emitting from deep in his throat. He worked alone. He traveled alone. He lived nomadically alone. He dined alone. He slept alone. He was always alone besides his occupational visits to the Sanctuary and he liked to keep it that way... That was up until Karliah became persistent, but he still loathed her company.

A many times he had swatted and hissed and shooed her away and even tried to end her life before, but the Nightingale always found some excuse to venture upon the same path as him. She had eyes everywhere, night or day. It was discomforting to know that honestly, but it was better that he was self aware in his line of work than to be ignorant to who was watching his every move. He didn't care for Karliah seeing as he thought she was a quote unquote 'pathetic and useless waste of space.' But, deep down he needed someone to talk to, and he /used/ her for just that. It was very ingenuine encounters. Nazir and the rest were idle company and seen as business partners. It wasn't true or healthy companionships in the Dark Brotherhood. Karliah had followed him all of the way to Rorikstead just to get into a petty physical fight with him. Internally, he scoffed, women. He stared down at her hand with an arched brow and an impassive laugh, and then his carmine coloured hues swivelled all the way back up to her porcelain features. He still didn't recognise her, perhaps it was the dark lighting obscuring his memories or perhaps all the years of blood he'd endured had stained it all red. A jeering, condescending smile of amusement plastered his lips and he simply walked passed her, rudely refusing to shake her hand and leaving Bratis to whatever fate await him. "You can owe me a drink, since I won't ever be needing the help of some nobody... Huntress, are you?"