A Vow of Silence (Brigitte x Widow)

The Sleepless Night

In the quiet nighttime of spring, outside, the air was still and fresh, ebbed with cold that lightly frosted the garden of Brigitte Lindholm's small cottage. The rolling hills of East Germany were always quiet, but tonight, it seemed that the whole world had taken a vow of silence.

Brigitte lay awake. Above her head, a dying oil lamp dangled, its fuzzy orange glow softly illuminating the blueprints for new creations pinned and scrawled upon the walls. She sighed, lowering her eyelids, finding no solace in the night. She had been restless for many weeks now. Reinhardt had re-entered combat, and it had been many a sleepless night since she had heard word of him. Rolling over, she stared out of the small gap in her blinds at the darkended corner of forest visible to her. She felt, for what it was worth, relatively comfortable - but not quite at ease.

She was just drifting off, when all at once, the silence was broken. Downstairs, there was a series of sharp clicks. It almost sounded like... Footsteps. Brigitte opened her eyes. "Wilhelm?" She called out to one of her (affectionately named) cats, assuming he must have knocked something over. She wasn't anticipating a reply, of course, so the silence that followed lay her back down into comfort, and she began to slip back into the embrace of sleep.

It must have only been a few seconds later that the door opened. A figure slipped in, and lingered. It stood in shadow, at the end of the bed, tall and slim, and watched.

Brigitte rolled over, letting out a mumble and pulling her covers further towards herself. She took a short intake of breath, and froze. Her eyes twitched open. Something wasn't right. She could hear a faint crackle. Fire. Panic washed through her body and she bolted up, whipping her legs from under the covers and standing next to the bed. But she was not met with the image of her house in flames, but rather the silouetted figure of a slender woman kneeling in front of her fireplace, watching as flicks of fire began to immerse the coal.

Brigitte stood in shock for a second before coming to her senses and grabbing a half-finished mace lying on her bedside table. "Who the f-"
The figure turned. Her gaze was sly and sultry, face feminine and smooth, expression faultless and impossible to read. "Madame Lindholm, the pleasure's all mine."

Brigitte blinked, mace half raised, eyes wild with confusion. The woman rose to her feet smoothly. She was slow and precise in her movements. Catlike.

As she took a step forward, Brigitte took an involuntary one back. The woman smiled, and spoke in a low whisper. "You are to ask me my name, non? Ah, it is not important, ma cherie. I am not here to hurt you, I only seek to discuss... Business."

Brigitte swallowed, and tried to speak in a stern voice. "I-I know who you are. You're the Assassin. I'm not scared of you."

The Assassin smiled. "Ah, I see my reputation proceeds me." She chuckled softly to herself. "If you are not scared of me, why do you draw your weapon?"

Brigitte glanced at her mace and looked the woman up and down. "I'll crush your skull."

The woman gasped, putting her hand on her chest. "Moi?" A smirk spread across her face. "I'd like to see you try."

Brigitte stood rooted to the spot. The woman edged closer still. The light of the fire grew, and now the whole room was visible, cast in a flickering orange. "Now, Madame, usually I do not embark on these kinds of missions but I.... Put in a special request. To see you personally." The Assassin said tilting her head slightly and gazing at the woman.
Brigitte became more afraid. She lowered her weapon, slightly, and gulped.
The assassin slipped a hand over Brigitte's shoulder, running it through her hair. "You know something. Something I want to know. I have ways to make you talk, cherie."

Brigitte felt her thin, soft fingers run through her hair and a chill ran up her spine. "Yeah?" She put quietly, face melting into confusion and concern.
The Assassin edged closer and placed a hand on her chest. She felt her heart thud. "Don't act so coy, Madame. We are friends. Good friends. We have met not moments ago, but do you not feel the fire between us?"