#endless amounts of bloodwork

[twentyfourfirst-sims]

WIP: 4t2 Herbalist Kitchen conversion

A really small gift to say thank you for staying around, consisting of the clutter items in myshunosun’s Herbalist Kitchen set because who can convert kitchen counters certainly not me will be coming your way ASAP, because all my results were GOOD 🥳

Thank you so much for your support throughout 2022! Tinkering for The Sims was one of the only happy things in my life in 2022. I didn’t reckon with how bad my health would be, but I’m really happy things are so much better and I’m going to tick everything off my lists as soon as I can 🤍

[wickedfang-sso]

(TLDR for the story at the bottom!)

With the end of the Equestrian Festival, Sabine too had taken her leave to who-knows-where. Venor was glad to have been able to train with her, although couldn't help a slight sense of relief knowing she wouldn't be dragging him into any more trouble for a while.

Of course, Venor wasn't a fierce enough competitor to have obtained the Baroness' attention during the festival, however he did seem to have caught someone else's eye.

He received an unsigned letter from someone who'd apparently seen the transformation of Venor's pony, from unruly and barely-ridable to a reliable steed who's not too bad at dressage. They commended his good horsemanship, and wanted to hire him to aid in training up some other horses. Venor felt a tad suspicious by the lack of identity behind the letter, it could be some kind of scam…but they were offering much more generous pay than what he was making as a stable hand, it might be worth at least considering.

Enclosed was an address as to where to send his response, and - while the letter wasn't signed - it had a wax seal at the bottom, one Venor couldn't recognize.

He wasn't sure what to make of it. Firstly, it was odd that someone had taken such notice of him and Flicker - not that there were many people around here normally anyway, but even through all the hustle and bustle of the festival? And secondly, that they were around to see him but didn't bother to approach him directly. Although, perhaps they were simply shy he thought, he's noticed Jorvegians can be weird like that. More likely however was they simply didn't want their identity known for one reason or another, obvious from the lack of names anywhere on the letter. How did they even mail this?

Regardless of the origin, it was worth at least sending out a reply, for the amount of money he was being offered. He accepted the proposition, assuming nothing would come of it.

Much to his surprise, a few days later a horse along with a big lump of cash would arrive for him at the stables, accompanied with another letter explaining the horse's origins. The stallion had been an auction horse; an appaloosa bred for racing, however failed to meet the breeders' high standard and was sold off for pretty cheap. Nobody seemed to want him, allegedly, and who knows what would've happened to him if he'd failed to sell.

The stallion's show name was Flash in the Dark, but Venor came to refer to him as Blink. He certainly wasn't a purebred appaloosa, after a routine vet check some traces of thoroughbred and paint horse DNA were found in his bloodwork - which would explain the taller, more sporty build than the ideal breed standard.

Upon trying to work with Blink, Venor would quickly learn exactly why nobody had wanted him; he spooks at just about anything - especially cows, a woefully common sight around Jorvik - he's horrible to lead, antagonizes any other stallions he sees, and to top it all off, he's prone to bucking after taking a jump. Blink is, as some would call him, the epitome of a 'crazy' horse.

To say Blink was an intimidating project would be an understatement. After giving it some thought however, Venor was certain he could handle this. The stallion just needs some desensitizing, and more constructive ways of letting out that seemingly endless energy he's had pent up probably his whole life. Cross country would actually be the perfect discipline for him, so long as he can get over his fears of…just about everything. Oh boy, what has he gotten himself into?

TLDR; Venor received a very sketchy offer for a job training horses after the equestrian festival had ended. He accepted without thinking anything would come of it, and was promptly sent an absurd amount of money along with the most unhinged horse known to man. RIP

------

New honse! ^w^ He's supposed to be 16.3hh, but I'm not sure if I got the size right in the art...it's so hard calculating how big horses are supposed to be sometimes, especially while rearing like this 😵‍💫

[xsoldier]

Trigger warning: Medical things & loss

Friday, I got a particular vibe from Niles, so we just hung out. I got him his favourite little turtle and brought it over to him, hand fed him some food and water so he didn't need to get up, and just sat with him letting him know he was loved and took some pictures with him.

Saturday, I spent the day in the hospital because of post-COVID muscle stuff making it excruciatingly painful to breathe or cough, and got a bunch of blood work as well as a contrast scan to make sure my lungs were ok (they are). Got sent home and had a prescription for pain meds to pick up the next day, so I rested to dull the pain, got up to microwave some food as I hadn't really eaten, visited Niles and pet him resting on the bathroom rug as usual, checked on my food and then heard something and came around to see him vomiting up a massive amount of blood.

Adrenaline instantly managed the pain (since I couldn't get meds until the morning), called someone to get a ride to the emergency vet, called the vet to make sure we were coming, cleaned Niles up calmly, grabbed his blanket from my bed, and the travel carrier for him rather than the vet carrier. Unlike other times, he wasn't panicked and hyperventilating when we got there. His pain meds and my change of context for transport all just had him totally calm.

With his multiple ongoing health things (hyperthyroidism, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, and bladder stones), I knew he had an extremely low chance of making it out of any surgery. The x-rays showed contrast issues of a potential tumor (matching his rapid weight loss the last few weeks), as well as internal bleeding, and his bloodwork was also worrying. I was already well-aware and prepared that he wasn't going to make it out, and my priority was him being at peace.

He hung out on my lap, and crawled into the blanket where he'd sleep beside me in bed. He got to pick how he wanted to be snuggled up in his safe spot. I'd also had fluid pumped into my veins a few hours earlier, so I knew what he'd experience and exactly how to make sure he felt nothing but safe and calm as he drifted off to sleep for the last time in my arms.

Every chapter has to close some day, and my time with Niles was all I could have hoped for. Of all the ways things could have gone, it was ideal. I didn't have to come home to find things had gone horribly while I was away, when we had to take the emergency trip he wasn't at all panicked, and he managed to feel comfortable, safe, and calm in his final moments which is all I ever wanted for my friend of the last 13 years.

It was a rough weekend, and it's weird being without him and being totally alone for the first time essentially ever now, but I don't feel an emptiness at all. I don't have to worry for him now and along with the relief that brings, it just feels like he curled up in my heart and went to sleep so he's always with me.

There's an endless amount more I could ramble on about every little thing and moment we had together, since the little copy cat meant the world and took such good care of me. But more than anything, we always communicated one thing to each other with perfect clarity that was never ONCE in question — love.

And that memory is still as bright & warm as ever.

[mypetmycat]

WHY DO CATS YOWL

Cat yowling is among the strongest — and most ominous — cat sounds. So, why do cats yowl? And what will it mean once your cat yowls?

“If you want to write, keep a cat.” 

-Aldous Huxley

Cats build all types of sounds. Some feline vocalizations are pleasant for America, like purrs, trills, and meows. Others square measure annoying or downright ominous, as in the case of cat yowling. So, why do cats yowl? What will it mean, and additional significantly, however, does one get cat yowling to stop?

First, grasp that once your cat makes any sound, she reprimands you. Of course, the matter is humans don't technically speak cats. "They're attempting to speak one thing," says Greek deity Karsten, DVM, stretch doctor for the Koret Shelter drugs Program at the University of Calif., Davis, Faculty of Veterinary Medicine's Center for Companion Animal Health. "We must be compelled to try and discover that one thing."

To identify the explanations for cat yowling, act sort of a detective. Landing on the correct answer is commonly a method of elimination. Contemplate the following reasons, then see if your cat may well be experiencing one or additional of those things.

“Cats have it all –admiration, an endless sleep, and company only when they want it.”

-Rod McKuen

Cats Yowl As A Result Of Their Hungry

This one is apparent. However, cats do what works. A cat yowling in your face gets that food bowl refilled. Hunger is straightforward to rule out. If your cat has lots of food and remains yowling, hunger is maybe not the cause.

Cat Yowling Happens To Urge Your Attention

Although cats have a name for being upstage loners, some cats would like additional attention than others. If you've been off from home tons latterly or not enjoying or caressing with your cat the maximum amount as was expected, try to build the eye and see if that yowling cat stops.

Cats Yowl As A Result Of Their Being Bored

Cats need a precise quantity of enrichment in their lives. A cat yowling may well be the cat's method of expressing that she's pissed off and bored. "It's very laborious for homeowners to supply associate degree indoor-only atmosphere that's amusive to cats — particularly a cat that's been outside then is brought within," Dr. Karsten explains. "Some cats do fine with it. However, several don't." If you think that your cat is searching for the good outdoors, contemplate building or buying a cat enclosure; therefore, she will be able to have safe of doors time.

It Might Signal An Internal Secretion Issue

"When I feel regarding yowling, the primary factor that involves my mind is breeding season," Dr. Karsten says. "When cats square measure breeding, they'll build hideous noises that disturb individuals. However, it's quite traditional." If your cat isn't unsexed, she may well be in heat. Confer with your vet regarding having your cat unsexed and see if that takes care of the yowling.

Cats Yowl Once They're In Pain

A cat may yowl if she's a symptom. Since cats instinctively hide their pain, virtually something can inflict it, as well as an inflammatory disease, associate degree injury, or associate degree malady. "You need to rule out medical (causes), therefore have your vet do a full physical, as well as viewing bloodwork to form certain there's nothing abnormal and checking for pain," says Dr. Karsten, WHO adds that thyrotoxicosis might cause irritability, that manifests in cat yowling.

It May Signify Psychological Feature Dysfunction

If your cat is older, psychological feature dysfunction (cat dementia) can be behind all those yowling cat sounds. Your vet will examine your cat to determine if this may be the cause. "They begin to not perceive what's happening, then they begin to vocalize," Dr. Karsten says. "A heap of times, the yowling looks to happen at midnight. Attempt feeding them an extremely light meal before bed; therefore, they're not hungry, produce a soothing space for them at nighttime, and increase environmental enrichment throughout the day; therefore, they're tired at nighttime."

Cats Yowl Thanks To Behavioral Problems

“Cats never strike a pose that isn't photogenic.”

-Lillian Jackson Braun

"If nothing looks medically abnormal and it's a younger animal, it can be some form of behavioral issue happening," Dr. Karsten says. "Keep a log of all of your cat's activities. Journal once the yowling happens and take a look at it to link it to one thing, some form of trigger." for example, if you've had any changes within the menage, sort of a new baby, a brand new housemate, or a recent move or divorce, your cat may well be yowling out of stress or anxiety. If your cat is often yowling next to the identical window, as an example, perhaps a stray cat outside is returning around and disconcerting her.

[powerovernothing]

(My dear friends and followers, there are two things I truly cannot stress enough about my newest story. One, this is an actual beast of a tale, and most likely is the *longest* piece that I have done based on Korbin’s world. It stands at over 25K words, which is the reason it has been given ‘epic’ status, so if you plan to read it – please do so at your own leisure. Secondly, whilst I am always appreciative of every single like I receive, if you can simply take the time to reblog this piece, that would truly mean the world to me! Thank you so much, my darlings, and without further ado – let’s begin~!)

Deafening cries of overly joyous spectators echo wildly throughout the wooden stands of the Imperial City's Arena as Korbin makes his way up from the staircase leading out of the Bloodworks hidden below and back into the lush green gardens, and protective high walls that decorated the remainder of one of the smaller districts found within the capital of Cyrodiil.

Another grueling battle fought, another hard earned victory in the palm of his hands, another sizable amount of gold placed within his pack, and for a moment the almost overwhelming thought of traversing the wilds under the cover of darkness – in the vein hope of not being seen by Daedra, Cultists, and Sithis only knew whatever other form of cruel creature in the process – to safely make their way to the city of Chorrol did not seem quite as impossible as it once had when he and his chosen siblings first set upon such a daunting journey.

While it was certainly true it was never meant to be the easiest task in all of Nirn itself, to which it had surely became steadily more dangerous in the aftermath of Kvatch's burning, and the numerous – nearly endless – amount of Oblivion Gates that had now been opened upon the unsuspecting province, it was still something that he was more than determined to accomplish more thoroughly than he did the first time around.

Perhaps it was a case of paranoia, perhaps it was because of the mocking whispers that he heard deep within his mind when his companions walked just a little further ahead, or perhaps it was simply just because he did not wish to make the same mistake twice.

Whatever the truth may have been, he knew that to successfully keep Martin safe from any and all harm that may befall him upon the road as they slowly found their way towards Weynon Priory, granting him the protection of Jauffre, as well as his trained Bladesmen awaiting their future arrival in Cloud Ruler Temple... it would have been considerably more difficult without a fair amount of coin nesting deep within their collective pockets.

Thankfully, however, Korbin already knew the perfect answer to every concern over the rather uncomfortable scenario that they had found themselves caught within. All it would require would be a single trip to the Imperial City. He knew that it would be out of the way, he knew that he would be risking Martin's life by choosing to bring him to the one city that those who clamored for his head would be searching for him in, and yet... he knew that it was the only option that they actually had at the moment.

Once it was agreed upon – and even despite numerous arguments from Lachance over the foolish decision, and ceaseless worrying from Martin regarding Korbin’s own life – he knew that everything would ultimately work out for the best.

He would join up with the combatants in the Arena, just as he had done before in another time, take part in the bloodshed to somehow satisfy the all too eager, and soon overly pleased crowds, and before long they would have enough to chart a wagon to make – at the very least, he hoped – the remainder of the journey somewhat more bearable.

The plan was perfect, flawless, and so much more enjoyable because his own chosen siblings were actually in the stands as well. Watching him flaunt his skills in the art of Assassination, and actively engaging in the screams of delight, the howls of surprise, and the proud, boastful clapping that came at the end of every match.

The latter was embarrassing, to be sure, but he used it as a source of strength. Round after round, opponent after opponent, and after no more than a single week had passed by, he was able to accomplish everything that they needed and more. But there was one thing that still remained. One thing that still ate away at him, even as he moved past the wooden bars, and waved a tired greeting towards Hundolin over his shoulder.

It was how vastly different the confrontation between two Champions of the Arena had wound up being in the end as he stood against the Grey Prince, and rushed forward to strip away the title of Grand Champion from his shoulders, and place it upon his own.

He still remembered the half Orc, half Vampire from memories that still lingered from long ago, from an entire lifetime ago, and he continued to look upon that time – upon that person that he once was – with an incredible amount of shame in regards to his actions then.

'Please, just kill me,' suddenly flashes in Korbin's mind as he feels the cooling breeze of midday caress over his skin, and he shuts his eyes against the rush of fresh pain that the words bring him. 'Can't you see this is what I want? I can't live like this, knowing I'm something filthy –' He shakes his head, and rounds the corner that would lead him back to the gate leading out of the district to await his brothers return.

'It was better this way. It was far better this way than how it was before,' he tells himself in a means of lessening the guilt of knowing what he had done, and how he had essentially stolen away the spark of a fighter that craved the joy, and thrill of battle.

The Grey Prince was better off not knowing the truth of his birthright. Better off not simply standing in the middle of the Arena in tears, wishing for an end, because he could not bear to even think of himself as anything other than foul. Thus, if what he craved was nothing more than a proper fight for the glory of Shinji himself, then he surely received it in the end.

There, in the Arena, it was not simply one pitiful man standing against the other. It was not someone who had meant well, and yet did so wrong, and chose to use it to his own benefit so that he could carry some manner of pride for a single day in the hopes it would somehow close the hole that he had in his life. It was one warrior against another, and in doing so, or rather not doing so, he had effectively changed one means of shame, and assisted his journey with his brothers at the very same time.

Yes, this was indeed the better outcome, and now that this small detour was out of the way, he could shift his focus back onto helping Martin arrive in Chorrol safely, and there wouldn't be any further interruptions to—

"Oh, wow! Oh, by Azura's own wonderful Dawn and Dusk, wow! It's you! It's... it's actually you!" Comes a sudden, high pitched voice, and Korbin blinks in confusion for several moments as he turns to locate the supposed source. "I've seen you fight every single match that took place in that Arena, but the one that just finished... was really, really amazing!"

He turns from one side, to another, and even upward, and seemingly finds nothing. That is, until, he feels a gentle tug at his arm, and he comes to realize that the source is much lower than he would have first assumed. He then cranes his head, eyes still ablaze with bewilderment, and is met with the sight of a small boy with an incredible mop of yellow hair, and piercing green eyes staring up at him with a large smile.

"I know that... I know that I came out of nowhere, but I couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of you coming out of the main gate when the battle was over!" The boy says; shifting from one foot to another, and practically bouncing with excitement. "And I know that you're probably really busy, being an amazing Hero and all, but... but can you... can you sign my black arrow, Mr. Grand Champion, sir?"

Korbin tilts his head at the young Bosmer before him – who could not have been even a few years into his teenhood – and then slowly nods.

"Uh, well... yeah, of course I will, kid, " He tells him, and then reaches for the arrow that is extended to him in trembling hands. "I mean, you seem so excited about all of this, that I would feel terrible if I just went and stepped on all of your adorable dreams! So, just give me a moment, and I'll be certain to make this special arrow of yours worthy of an unending shower of pride and appreciation from the Grand Champion, and Black Arrow himself!"

"Oh, yes! Yes! That would be truly wondrous, thank you! Thank you so much! Azura has truly blessed me this day by being able to have this incredible chance!" The boy cries out, twirling around on his feet in a full circle, and pumping his fists in the air. "My brother is going to be really, really jealous when I show him this! Especially after everything he said about how I shouldn't have journeyed out to see the events in the first place, and that they were too brutal for someone of my age, but, but –"

He clasps his hands together, and his eyes sparkle with an innocence that he knows he has seen too many times in the mirror himself. "The way that you fought! The way that you fell the Grey Prince! It was amazing! And inspiring! You didn't flinch even once as he came out you! You're a truly a true Knight among those around us, sir! Truly!"

Korbin barks a warm laugh at the boy's glee, and then hands the arrow back to him when he finishes branding it with a special mark in place of a signature.

"A true Knight, you say. Well, if that is indeed the case..." His words trail as he shifts his gaze to each side once again. "Is this brother of yours nearby, perhaps? Because I would very much love to see the look of utter shock on his face as you return to him with the newly decreed Grand Champion of the Arena at your side, if everything you said is indeed true."

"Oh no, he's not nearby, sir. He's rather far away, actually."

Korbin raises an eyebrow to his words. "...Far away?"

"Oh, yes, sir! He currently lives in Bravil with the rest of his very Priestly friends! And myself, of course!"

"W-Wait... whoa, wait a moment, hold on now—" Korbin staggers backwards in genuine surprise; waving his hands in the air in a rather animated fashion as he tries to desperately grasp onto what exactly he is being told. "Bravil? You mean the... city of Bravil? The one that is, you know, down in the south? And quite a long way away from where we are both currently standing together? That Bravil, you mean?"

The boy nods several times in a row. "Yes, yes! The very same!"

"And you... the little one who is in front of me right now, came to the Imperial City?" Korbin asks, on the verge of panicking over the sake of an unknown child's wellbeing. "By yourself? Just to... just to what? Come and see me fight in the Arena?"

"I did, sir! And rather happily at that!" The boy beams with a wide smile, oblivious, or perhaps not at all caring how his innocent words sounds to other's ill prepared ears. "But, enough about that! Back to more important matters! After all, do you not realize how utterly jealous my brother will be when I not only present this token to him, but when he finds out that I got a chance to speak with the Grand Champion of the Arena himself as well?! He will go through the roof and wish for several months – even possibly years – that he had gone with me when I first asked!"

"Right, that's going to be absolutely grand, I'm sure," Korbin mutters halfheartedly as he holds his head with one hand, and gestures with the other. "But, before you do that, let me just try to make sense of everything I've learned first. Because, from what you're telling me... you are going to... do what, exactly, when we part ways here? Leave the safety of the city, willingly venture out into the wilderness before you, and then... journey back towards Bravil, and show your brother your arrow shaped token to make him red with rage? And all completely by yourself?"

The boy suddenly stomps his foot, all the while holding the arrow close to his chest almost protectively. "Why of course I am!" He shouts; puffing out his red tinted cheeks in response. "I am not a child, sir! I came here on my own, so it is only fair that I will leave here on my own as well. I'll be just fine, and perfectly safe! So, there's truly nothing to worry about!"

Korbin pauses at the brief show of anger from the boy; breathing in only once before leaning forward to place both hands on his little fan's shoulders, and then chuckles.

"Ah, yeah, no," He says with an unsettled grin. "That is absolutely not going to happen if I have anything to say about it."

Hardly mere moments later, far too quickly before the boy can even begin to question what the Grand Champion means by his strange words, why he looks so seemingly nervous – to which only confuses him more so, because Knights and Champions can be nervous? Even after such amazing battles? How was that even possible! – and how, once again, there was absolutely nothing to worry about, as he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and didn't he hear him the first time around... two other men come out from the opposite door of the Arena connected to the staircases that led to the seats above.

Seemingly conversing with one another – or rather arguing from the young boy's perspective – over the Grand Champion's amazing show of skill. And how, from the darker skinned, and lightly dressed man's point of view that the other, darkly dressed, more brooding man has surely trained the Grand Champion far too well, and there should have been at least a half dozen different ways, if not more, that he should have downed the Grey Prince without such brutality, all the while the hooded man simply waves a hand to the other's words.

Muttering something about his needless judgement, and how he felt nothing but complete and utter pride for his Silencer.

He wrinkles his nose. What was a Silencer? Was it a title that the Grand Champion had before he was the Grand Champion, and the Black Arrow? Was it something special that this man called him? Did that mean that this man was his trainer, but then what of the other man? Why was he so upset about how he felled the Grey Prince? In his own green eyes, he thought it was remarkable, as did the other man, so why were they arguing?

Once more, before he has a chance to ask, the Grand Champion takes his hand into his own, and walks forward to meet these men with him directly at his side.

"Gentlemen!" Korbin cries out with a large smile in the hopes of gaining his siblings attention, quite unaware of how his small fan is feeling over what is happening, and so quickly. "How did the two of you enjoy the show?"

"I must admit that it was quite the show, little brother," Martin regards Korbin warmly, and then reaches to rub a hand over his shoulder with a wry chuckle as he continues. "Expect for the... rather unneeded amount of bloodshed that took place within the Arena itself, I can say for certain that it made my evening seeing you go well above and beyond throughout all of these events with your impressive skill! And then knowing that it was all merely for the sake of making our journey easier... well, I feel a sense of sheer delight for what you have done, and just as I was discussing with Lachance here—"

"—What he is attempting to tell you in his own longwinded way, my dear Silencer, is that you were positively remarkable upon the battleground!" Lucien quickly interjects; an almost uncharacteristic twinkle shining brightly in his eyes. "You truly have no idea the amount of personal pride that I feel upon seeing you utilize the very same skill set that I have—"

"—Yes, yes, and that is all truly fantastic to know that you both feel that way about my slaughter and life taking in front of a lively audience!" Korbin waves a hand in front of their faces, and cuts Lucien off before he can complete his rather candid words. "However, compliments and pride aside, there is something far more important that I wish to discuss at the moment!"

He moves aside, and then gestures with both hands to the wide-eyed boy that stood hiding behind his leg as he spoke to both men.

"You see here, this is..." Korbin then pauses as realization dawns on him. Leaning down, and with a slight air of embarrassment, Korbin whispers to the boy with a half grin. "Ah, yes... well, you will have to forgive me for being so careless – and rest assured that your Champion hardly ever acts in such a way – but I do not believe that I ever caught your name?"

"Oh! Not to worry! Not to worry at all!" The boy says with a giggle all his own. "It's Erinil, Mr. Grand Champion! Or rather, I'm Erinil!"

"Ah, yes, Erinil, that's it!" Korbin raises back up with a much more pleased laugh. "So now that pleasantries are properly dealt with, and out of the way, you should know that Erinil here has been incredibly brave. More so than any others that have come to the Imperial City! Because he has ventured from the city of Bravil itself to simply come and witness the glory of my Arena battles in person!"

"Yes, yes, that's right! That’s so very right!" Erinil nods excitedly in agreement; matching Korbin's spirit almost effortlessly. "Every single one!"

“Hold a moment now,” Lucien raises a hand, and then makes a face as he looks down at the boy by Korbin's side. "...Whom, exactly, is this?"

Korbin places his own hand over his chest. "Why, my dear brother, I am positively ashamed of you!" He states dramatically. "Do you not see my biggest fan standing before us in this moment? Looking up at the three of us with glee, joy, and absolute happiness that only someone filled with the sweetest innocence could muster?"

"Yes, perhaps I do," Lucien replies, as he runs a thoughtful hand over his chin; hiding his playful grin just behind his fingers. "But I am simply wondering how much you managed to bribe the child to become such a ridiculous thing in the first place."

Korbin gawks; his mouth now hung open as he points an accusatory finger. "Lucien Lachance, how dare you!"

While both Assassins begin to briefly argue among themselves over the matters of how many admirers the newly christened Grand Champion now has, and surely will have, from his outstanding show of skill within the Arena, and how all of Lucien's playful – yet deeply hurtful words – were blatant lies, and it was not merely the two of them, and the young boy that made up his circle of adoring fans. For there were many others, a great many others, and the spectators that partook in the event weren’t just there for a show of gratuitous bloodshed and nothing more, and how dare the eldest of the two of them run his mouth in an attempt to throw him from the glorious cloud of high spirits that he was happily floating upon!

It is Martin that simply breathes in a deep sigh; mixed with some manner of both genuine exasperation, and amusement at the same time, and allows the rather chaotic – and growing far more fervent as the seconds pass by – sight to grant to him a temporary respite, and steal away a quiet moment with this young boy for himself.

Lowering down to a gentle kneel, so that both he and Erinil were on common ground, he smiles politely. "Is it true what Korbin said to us, Erinil?" He asks him in a light tone. "That you are indeed here alone with no such guardian to watch over you?"

"Yes, but that's okay," The boy nods in emphasis to his words, despite the faintest twinge of sadness lingering in his words that does not go entirely unseen. "I really, really wanted to come here and see the battles for myself, and the Grand Champion didn't disappoint at all! I mean, I knew that he wouldn’t, of course, as I've always believed in him from the moment he stepped foot in the Arena. But actually seeing firsthand how he fought so bravely against every single opponent? And how didn’t even look scared, not even once, and not even against the Grey Prince himself?!"

Erinil pauses, and then clutches his precious arrow to his chest. "It's something to be in awe over, sir. Because he is such a remarkable hero."

"Oh yes, little one, I most certainly agree with you there." Martin tells him as his voice softens. With another sigh, albeit far more tender than the one that had come before, he slowly looks from Erinil’s face for a moment, and over to where Korbin and Lucien continue to exchange their heated words at each other.

He watches them as they mimic each other's theatrical, over the top movements, and dramatic words, and why this was so obviously the truth, and the other was a cruel lie, and why exactly he was clearly the right one, and the other was wrong.  

Martin doesn't make sense out of any of it, not now, and not any times that his companions had thought to act this way towards one another. But this time, and with Erinil's words in mind, his gaze lingers on Korbin, and his once kind smile slowly turns far more genuine with a deep warmth etched into every word that he goes on to speak.

"He is indeed quite the wonderful hero," He whispers, much more to himself than for the child's pointed ears. "And one that you, much like my own self, owe so very much to in ways of which we could never possibly explain."

"For the love of – now look what you’ve went and done to me, Lachance!" Korbin suddenly groans; bringing Martin back to the moment as he pulls away from Lucien and holds his face in his hands. "All of your little insults that you think are oh-so clever, and all your little jabs, and jokes have not only made me get needlessly angry, and want to tackle you to the ground, but it made me lose my entire point that I was about to get to!"

"Well, if that is surely the case, then I would consider that quite the accomplishment," Lucien says with an arrogant grin.

"And this is the moment when I turn my back, and completely ignore anything that you have to say until I'm ready to deal with you once again! Which will most certainly not be any time soon!" Korbin shouts with a pointed finger over his shoulder as he does just that, and then gestures to Erinil still lingering beside Martin.

"In any case, the point that I was just about to make, before someone – whom I shall not be naming, thank you very much – chose to be an arse and interrupt me so rudely"—he walks forward, paying no heed to Lucien as he laughs at his expense, and places a hand upon Erinil's shoulder—"Is that no matter how this boy came into my – our – lives, no matter how many miles he has traveled here to the Imperial City, and no matter what he may have thought of his skill in daring the dangers of the roads and wilderness… the most important fact is that he has singlehandedly given us an incredibly important mission to uphold!"

Erinil blinks and tilts his head. "...Wait, I did?"

"Yes! You certainly have!" Korbin explains with a wide grin spreading from ear to ear. "And because of that, myself, and my two brothers here, are going to be the ones who personally escort you back to the city of Bravil, and into your loving brother's arms once more!"

Erinil's eyes go wide to the Grand Champion's amazing words, and shine with an awe that only a child would have... at the same exact moment that Lucien's laughter suddenly ceases, and he turns to Korbin with a deep glare of irritation in his own dark gaze.

"...You cannot be serious," He grumbles in almost deadpan tone. "You truly cannot be serious."

"Ah, ah, ah! Now, you know very well that I am indeed serious, Lucien!" Korbin exclaims as he spins on his heel. "After all, why would I ever think to jest over something as important as bringing this little one back to his family safe and sound?" He places his hands over his hips with a disapproving shake of his head. "Frankly, I'm quite offended, and rather ashamed that you would even think such a thing about me!"

"We are not about to escort this child all the way to Bravil!"

Upon hearing the sound of Lucien's screams, and knowing that he now had the perfect opportunity to fluster his shadowy friend all the more, Martin rises back to his full height, and matches Korbin's mirthful expression with one of his own.

"And why ever not, Lachance?" He asks him simply. "Would you rather have this dear boy go off by himself?"

"Yes!" Lucien shouts; gesturing to Erinil with his palms held out. "If he so arrived here on his own, then that alone proves he is more than capable of taking care of himself upon the journey back."

Erinil lets out a surprised gasp; bouncing up and down on his feet – to the point of making himself dizzy with the quick motions – and points at Lucien with a squeal.

"See? See? Did you hear what he just said?!" He cries, hoping that his words reach both the Grand Champion, and his lightly dressed sibling's ears somehow. "He agrees with me! He knows that I can handle myself on my own! This is just as I was saying, sir! And now he is the one who actually believes in me, so maybe you should listen to him?"

However, his hope is dashed to teeny, tiny little ribbons – just as the Grand Champion had done to his opponents in the Arena – as Korbin simply pats the top of his biggest fan's head and hushes him.

"Shhh Eri," He whispers, referring to him by a sudden nickname that makes the boy’s cheeks turn slightly red. "I know that you're naturally excited, and all, but the adults are talking right now, okay? Just wait a touch, and then you can have your turn again."

He then stares at Lucien with narrow eyes, and a harsh frown. "Truly now, Lucien... if you simply take a moment to realize that it is not all about you, and your word is not nearly the law that you believe it to be outside of the Sanctuary, then you would realize that Martin is exactly right in what he says!" He goes on to explain, refusing to back down even slightly on such a serious subject. "If we allow little Erinil to leave, to go off on his own into the wild, Sithis and Akatosh, and even Azura herself only knows what will happen out there! All manner of thing could come upon him! Wolves, mountain lions, bandits! All three at once! And then his blood would be on your hands until the end of time itself!"

"But, but, but!" Erinil attempts to interject. "None of that is going to happen, because I'm not going to get caught! I'm really fast, and very good at hiding!"

Martin closes the distance between himself and Lucien as he ignores Erinil's words just as easily as Korbin had.

"Lachance, I have only known you for a short time now, but from what you have been willing to share with me... well, I am quite frankly appalled by your behavior!"

"...I beg your pardon, Septim?" Lucien lets out a frustrated sigh; running a hand over his head where a piercing pain was now coursing over his temples.

"What sort of father do you claim yourself to be, if you will stand aside and do nothing while a young, innocent, helpless child rushes off into the dangers of the outside world without any sort of guardian or protector?!"

At the all too personal jab, Lucien fights back the growing urge to pull out his concealed weapon, toss it towards both Martin and Korbin's clothing, and pin them directly to the wooden wall behind him. But as he contemplates such a grand thought of revenge, he then remembers that he is not only in the company of a child, but he is also within the eyesight of numerous witnesses and a collection of various guardsmen at the ready for any sudden threat of violence, or hint of suspension.

Knowing that he is essentially trapped, and looking from the boy's widened eyes, and towards his siblings who continue to smile at him in such an dreadfully irritating way, he simply reaches up and pulls at the corners of his darkened hood in sheer frustration at the horrific scenario brought upon by some stroke of terrible luck, or curse by some deity with a demented sense of humor, or both at the exact same time.

A groan escapes his lips, and he bites his tongue to keep from utilizing every possible swear that he knows to perfectly explain what he is feeling.

In the end, he only continues to shout. "By the Dread Father, you are both being absolutely unbearable! And why I haven't simply felled you by my own hand is truly beyond me!"

"Is that a means of saying you agree, and are going to come with us?" Korbin asks with a boyish giggle.

Lucien releases his white knuckled grip on his hood and huffs a weary breath. "Do I truly have any sort of say in the matter at this point in time, Korbin?" He questions, firmly at first, and then with a dismissive wave of his hand. "For I know, all too well, that daring to disagree with either of you only serves to stoke the flames of your childish arguments, and if assisting to help this child find his way back to his beloved city walls makes my suffering come to a delightful end, and finally grants me blessed silence, then yes!"

He holds out his hands and begins to wave them in front of his chest. "Yes! I will come with you! Are the three of you thoroughly satisfied with what you're about to have me endure, or shall I find another means of heinous torment for you to bestow upon me!?"

Korbin and Martin turn to look at one another, sharing a rather devious, pleased glance at what they were able to accomplish together – all the while Erinil simply looks on with confusion – and Korbin chuckles with a smug air that Lucien positively despises.

"Oh no, I do believe that will suffice for now, my dearest brother." He says in an almost sing-song like tone of voice, and then turns to Erinil and smiles more genuinely at the boy. "And so, it's finally settled then! The four of us shall be heading out on an adventure together, and it shall truly be glorious!"

*~*~*

"My dear Silencer, will you please remind me of how truly glorious you believe that our quaint little adventure with the Bosmer child will end up being?" Lucien says with deep frustration marred in every feature, as he makes his way through the city gates of Cheydinhal; his hands intertwined within his robe sleeves, as locks of hair begin to fall loose from his ponytail. "Because I do believe that your definition of the term, and what it was that we just underwent over the course of many days are two wildly different things entirely."

"Oh, for the love of Sithis, do not even start with me, Lachance," Korbin groans as he pulls the gate close, and comes to stand at Lucien's side, as both Martin and Erinil trail hand in hand in their shadows. "How was I meant to know that every bloody Priest of Mara would be off on some bizarre Pilgrimage to locate every damn Wayshrine in every secluded corner of Cyrodiil itself? Or that by the time we arrived, Eri's brother would happily be skipping off to lands unknown along with them and wouldn't have the common decency to wait for his sibling to return first?!"

"I could have told you!" Erinil suddenly cries out from over their shoulder. But when both Korbin and Lucien turn their gazes and look towards the boy with slight confusion resting within golden eyes, and a much deeper irritation shifting into barely contained rage in darkened browns, he quickly hides himself behind Martin's back. "I-I... I mean, I could have if you had only asked me, Mr. Grand Champion, sir! But, but you... but you didn't! You only asked about where my brother lived, and about the city of Bravil, so I thought... it wasn't very important at the time."

The young boy shuffles on his feet and clutches his hands into the crook of Martin's robing. "Oh dear, oh dear. Oh dear, Azura. I did something very wrong, didn't I?" He asks somewhat pitifully after all three men come to a halt in the middle of the cobblestone road. "I'm... I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to... to do something wrong, I just thought that it was something we could.... we could discuss later, rather than... oh, forgive me, sirs! I didn't mean to make any of you upset with me!"

"It's quite all right, little one," Martin instantly begins to reassure as he hears Erinil's emotional, and rather unneeded apologies. He turns on his heel and kneels in front of the boy. "After all, you are indeed correct with your assumptions on the matter. Neither Korbin, nor Lucien, actually asked you for the details of what your sibling would be doing by the time we arrived, so it is not as though it is your fault that things went... somewhat differently than we would have first thought."

He chuckles and smiles more kindly as he goes on. "Besides, we still had quite the fun adventure, didn't we? Exploring different parts of the Nibenay Basin together, and introducing you to different landmarks that you have never seen before, and telling you of their history?" He his head to look towards Korbin. "Do you not think that we had a wonderful time, little brother?"

Korbin blinks at Martin's words; his negative emotions that had been brought to the surface because of Lucien's own frustrations slowly beginning to fall from his shoulders.

"Yes, absolutely, Martin!" He says with a large, boyish grin. "And I'm quite certain that it was even more enjoyable for Eri, as he most likely has never seen this side of Cyrodiil from within a wagon before!"

"I haven't, Mr. Grand Champion, sir! Not before now, at least!"

Korbin laughs. "Well then, do you see?" He tells Erinil with a clap of his hands. "Just like before, it's all wound up having worked out for the better in the end!"

"I would prefer it if you both would speak for your own selves, rather than lumping me into this nonsense," Lucien replies from where he remains in the middle of the road; his voice still ripe with the same familiar ire that he had when this entire impromptu adventure first began. "For if you did not realize upon our deeds – or the lack thereof – in Bravil, we are in no better shape than when we set off. In fact, it is considerably worse, as we are now hopelessly stuck with the boy."

Martin gasps in surprise to Lucien's words, and pulls Erinil close. "Lachance!"

"...What?" Lucien merely shrugs his shoulders. "There is no need for such a reaction, as I am only doing my part to bring the truth of the matter, in which we are still actively trapped in I shall have you know, to your rather naive ears."

"Yes, perhaps you are, and perhaps we are all so very thankful for that as well!" Korbin shouts as he reaches to wrap a sudden arm around Lucien and pulls him close; his voice quietening down to a softer whisper, and one of which he dearly hopes Erinil is unable to hear. "But truly, must you refer to it in that sort of way? If you can't tell, we are actually trying to make the kid feel better about what happened back there, and not somehow ten times worse! And yes, I get it... you're still upset with all of us because we had to travel so far, leave empty-handed, and then travel towards Cheydinhal as a last resort. It's not as though I don't understand how you're feeling, but..."

He sighs and looks to where Martin is embracing the young boy in his arms and attempting to make him smile. "We can't just abandon him somewhere all alone. He doesn't have anyone expect for us right now and leaving him in Bravil without any resources is just too cruel of a punishment."

"Then what do you purpose we do?" Lucien prompts in the same whispered tone; his anger subsiding only slightly as he latches onto the truth in his brother's words.

Korbin pats Lucien's shoulder. "Right, I purpose..." His words trail off once again, and he stares out into the distance of the other side of the city. "That we simply make our way over to the Abandoned House for now and see if any new ideas spring to mind while doing so."

"The Abandoned House?" Erinil repeats in curiously as he pulls out of Martin's arms and looks up at Korbin with a newfound sparkle in his eyes. "What is that, Mr. Grand Champion? Is it a very special place in the city where everyone goes to think up amazing ideas?"

"Well no, it's nothing like that," Korbin explains with an amused shake of his head. "I mean, that is what I am going to be using it as this time, but...that's not his intended purpose. But even despite that, it doesn't make it any less special. For it is a place that is very important to myself, my brothers, and the rest of my family..." Sharing a glance with Lucien – who simply shrugs his shoulders in response once again – he then smiles. "Would you like to see it for yourself, Eri?"

"Oh yes! Oh yes, I certainly would, sir!" Erinil bounces on his feet and claps his hands together. "I would truly love to see anything and everything here in Cheydinhal, as it's almost as amazing as the Imperial City itself, and far more beautiful than all of Bravil combined!"

Korbin turns around, and gestures over his shoulder as he proceeds down the pathway leading across the lake. "Then simply fall in line, my dear little fan!" He cries out happily. "Because not only shall I take you to see most of what Cheydinhal has to offer, but directly over this bridge, and a little to the right, is where the Abandoned House sits, along with so many other homes for you to behold just as well!"

Erinil lets out an excited squeal; rushing forward to stand at Korbin's side as he proudly marches on, all the while Martin lingers just behind Lucien with a tickled smile spread over his face.

"Tell me, my shadowy friend," He begins to say as he subconsciously mirrors Lucien's posture, and intertwines his fingers together in the sleeves of his own robing. "Is this at all how you would have imagined your last several days to have gone?"

Lucien scoffs under his breath. "At first I would have surely said no," He replies, and then turns to flash Martin a wry grin. "But considering that my prior few months has involved traveling to a ruined city overrun with Daedra forces, pulling a Priest out of a crumbled chapel, and promising to keep him safe so that he might take his place upon the Ruby Throne, and become Cyrodiil's new Emperor... well, I would have to say that nothing in my life quite surprises me any longer."

Martin laughs in genuine amusement. "What a fantastic response, my friend!" He says as he rounds the corner past the Great Chapel of Arkay. "And I do believe that I would certainly have a similar answer. After all, being saved from a very literal nightmare by the hands of two Assassins? Who would, in turn, grow to become some of my very dear friends, and even a chosen sibling? Why, if you had told me that more than two months ago, I would have laughed in your face."

"And yet, here you are," Lucien adds with a more relaxed half smile in place of his prior grin. "Alongside the very same Assassins, about to witness part of where myself, and Korbin conduct most of our rather grisly business... or rather, the exterior of it, at least. As I am certain you would have no desire to actually proceed through the Black Door itself."

"The Black Door?" Martin repeats just as curiously as Erinil when he heard of the Abandoned House. "Whatever is that, Lachance? Dare I even to ask?"

"Ah yes, well, there shall be ample time to explain such things to you at a later time, Septim," Lucien replies simply. "Let us first deal with the boy that is being left – unwillingly – in our care, and then we shall turn our focus upon dealing with you in the aftermath."

Before Martin has an opportunity to question Lucien properly over what he means by the phrase 'deal with', or the reasoning behind why, exactly, he feels his shoulders slump, and his stomach drop in regards to those very same words, his thoughts are quickly – and thankfully – interrupted by a rather familiar squealing. Refocusing his vision, and looking ahead, he sees Erinil practically dancing with excitement at Korbin's side, and tugging on the sleeve of his armor.

"Is this the house, Mr. Grand Champion, sir?" Erinil asks with a large smile; bouncing from one foot to the next. "Is this the house you spoke of?"

Korbin nods his head with a laugh at the sight of the boy’s excitement, as well as the strength in his endearing tugging. "Yes, the very same, Eri!" He turns and points a finger towards the side of the house. "You can tell that it is indeed the Abandoned House because of the very special well huddled just out of view! That is one of the key elements in telling this household apart from the rest of the Cheydinhal homes that dot this street!"

Erinil gasps with sheer delight. "It has a well!? Really!?" He lets go of Korbin's hand, and rushes over to Martin's in no more than half a second's time. "Mr. Martin sir! Did you hear what the Grand Champion just said? He says that what makes this house even more special than all the rest is because it has a well! And not just any well, but a very special well... hm, hm, as well!" He giggles at his own childish joke, and then pulls on Martin's arm. "Come on, come on! Let's go look at this special well and see if it has any secrets!"

Martin's softens considerably at the young Bosmer's almost infectious, and rather familiar innocence; the emotion he felt for Lucien's words, and how he was perceived in the Assassin's eyes compared to Korbin's suddenly fading into nothingness as he looks into the twinkling of Erinil's large green gaze.

"Very well, little one," He says with a kind smile. "Why don't you simply lead the way, and we shall explore the depths of this special well together?"

Erinil nods and pulls Martin along with him. Once the two of them are safely out of earshot, Lucien moves forward to take his place near where Korbin rests against the cobblestone wall surrounding the home. Leaning partially over the wall, he exhales a deep sigh, and then turns his head to address his Silencer through a careful whisper while the shadow of his hood conceals whatever emotion is lurking beneath his eyes or hidden within his words.

"Well, here we are, my Silencer," He begins to say, and then shifts his gaze upward. "The Abandoned House, just exactly as you wished. Thus, I do believe I am inclined to ask whether any new possibilities regarding the boy's fate has flooded into your mind by standing in its presence?"

Korbin shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, nothing," He admits disappointingly. "I'm still at a loss of what to actually do. I mean, I want to do what is right for Erinil, and what would be benefit him most, considering that his brother is off doing Sithis only knows what with his Priest pals, but when I try to think about what exactly that all means, and what he needs most of all... I'm just left floundering about in my own aggravation."

Lucien reaches to pat Korbin's shoulder, a light playfulness overtaking his tone. "Considering that it was you who first suggested that we transport the child to Bravil, all the while in the process of transporting the Septim Heir himself, I am half expecting your newfound ideas to be along the very same road of complete and utter madness."

"...And what does that mean, exactly?" Korbin asks; running the palm of his hand over the side of his temple as a wave of sharp pain temporarily overtakes his head whilst listening to Lucien's words, and focusing on the term ‘madness’. "Are you trying to tell me that you don't have any trust in my ideas?"

"Oh no, not at all, Silencer," Lucien reassures with a dismissive wave of his own hand. "I am only saying that if you do not stand there, and try to reason to why we should bring the boy into the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood as some unofficial member, as well as granting him full possession of the Abandoned House itself... well, I shall surely be walking away from this conversation of ours quite disappointed in your creativity."

Korbin allows a good-humored laugh to escape him, even despite his own frustrations for being unable to find the ideal answer that his dear little fan needed most, but before he is able to summon forth his personal flair for mischief to counteract Lucien's playful words, he is interrupted by a sudden laugh echoing directly over his shoulder. He turns his gaze for a moment and sees Erinil circling around the well of the Abandoned House several times in a row, a childish song flowing from his lips, as Martin watches on with rapt attention, and a gentle smile.

"Oh, the Grand Champion was very right, Mr. Martin sir!" Erinil says as he comes to a stop and rests his elbows over the top of the well. "This is indeed a very special well! It doesn't sound as normal wells do – even though there have not been many wells that I have seen in my lifetime – and it is much colder than I would have expected it to be! I wonder why it's different? I wonder why it's so special? I wonder if it does have secrets, and would be willing to share them with us?"

Martin chuckles warmly. "I'm not so sure, little one," He tells Erinil as he walks forward, and stands opposite to the boy. "Perhaps we should try dangling ourselves, shout our many questions into the depths, and see if it will grant us the answers that we seek."

"That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Martin!" Erinil leans forward and allows his curly blond hair to dip into the darkness for a single moment, but then quickly pulls his head back up with a giggle. "But wait, if I do that... I won't get my answer! I'll only hear my own echo from below! And then that won't give me the secrets that I want, it would just make me have a conversation with myself!"

Martin reaches out and touches his hand to the top of Erinil's head. "Ah, it seems as though you carry a great amount of wisdom in your small form, Erinil. No wonder Korbin instantly took to you so fervently."

"Oh dear, I'm not so sure about that, but..." A faint blush crosses over the boy's face, and then he pulls back to lay his elbows over the well once again. "But thank you so much for saying it anyway, sir! You are truly very kind! Although..." He pauses as his words trial; looking from the well, over to where Lucien and Korbin linger in the distance, and then back at Martin. "I am somewhat confused, I must admit..."

"Confused?" Martin repeats with a shake of his head. "Over what, little one?"

"You act as though you've never been here before, and that really, really confuses me," Erinil tells him; a frown over his lips. "Because I thought the Grand Champion said this is where Mr. Lachance and the rest of his family lives. And you're a part of that family too, right? Because you call them your brothers, and they call you that as well, so... don't you live here in Cheydinhal with them, sir?"

He scratches the side of his cheek with his fingers, and then giggles as he sways his cheeks from palm to palm "Or... has it just been a very long time since you came here, and you've just forgotten what your home looks like? Because if that's the case... then that's okay! Because I forget things a lot too, and you don't need to feel bad about it! I’m sure your brothers understand and will happily reintroduce you to your home again!"

It is then that Martin's eyes widen, and a much deeper blush overtake his cheeks. "O-Oh, no, no, Erinil, you don't—" He begins to stammer, attempting to grasp onto his better sense, and form some manner of coherent words in the process. "I'm... I'm afraid that you do not understand. Yes, they are..." However, he quickly catches himself before he can complete his sentence – before he can describe both Assassins as his chosen siblings – and when he looks over to where Lucien stands next to Korbin, a saddened sigh escapes him. "Yes, Korbin is my chosen sibling, but that does not necessarily mean–"

"—By the infinite shadows of the Void itself, I've finally figured it out!" Korbin cries out joyfully; slapping a fist into his open palm, and effectively causing his brothers, as well as the overly excited boy, to be shaken from their thoughts, and forcefully thrown back into the present. "It has taken me right up until this very moment in time, and I will surely have many personal words to mutter to my own mind when this is all said and done, but I do believe I have finally found the perfect solution to both ours, and Erinil's little problem!"

Lucien blinks in surprise. "Truly? It just came to you all at once?"

"Yes, of course it did! Suddenly, and out of nowhere, and right when I was just about to give up entirely! And honestly"—Korbin turns on his heel, and grins from ear to ear—"It's all thanks to you, Lachance! For I do not believe that I would have ever realized just how flawless this idea was if you did not suggest it yourself, dear brother!"

"...Forgive me, Silencer, but... what?" Lucien asks as his surprise turns to genuine confusion. "What is it I suggested that was seemingly the answer for you?"

Korbin places his hands over Lucien's shoulders. "Why, about allowing Erinil to join up with the Dark Brotherhood as an unofficial member and taking ownership of the Abandoned House, of course!" He pulls his brother into a half embrace as he gestures with his other hand. "I mean, just think about how perfect it will be! No one ever really uses the house to begin with, despite how well it's been kept throughout the many long years, and if Erinil moves in... then he could be safe! He could not only be far more secure than he ever was in Bravil, but he could be the first step in going forward with our plans to reshape the Brotherhood in our own image!"

Heat rises to Lucien's cheeks, and flows from him in a light red mist. "No, absolutely not—!"

"—And, and, and! I have an even better idea that would make it so that Erinil won't simply have to wander around and do nothing for hours on end!" Korbin loudly interrupts; practically squishing Lucien to his chest before he can reject the concept. "He could be our personal little guardsman! He gets the house, and thus is able to watch over the house, and the Black Door, and then he can also watch the well just as... well, just as well!" He chuckles in amusement. "He's protected, he has a job, he is kept safe, and we have a new member in everything but name! Everyone wins that way!"

Lucien jerks out of Korbin's hold with a furious glare in his eyes. "No, everyone does not win that way!" He shouts, fighting the urge to pull on the rim of his hood, or reach for the dagger at his belt the longer he is forced to stand by and listen to continual absurdity falling from Korbin’s lips. "For the love of Sithis, you cannot be seriously contemplating such a thing! Yes, it is true that I went along with your inane plans in the beginning, as you practically held me against the wall, rendering unable to escape, but this!? This, of all things, you could have suggested to help with our child shaped nightmare, you are choosing to go along with this!?"

"And why ever not, brother? After all, wasn’t it you"—Korbin reaches to poke Lucien's forehead in emphasis to his words—"who told me that you would be quite disappointed if I did not come up with an idea just as maddening as when I suggested we bring Erinil to Bravil?"

Lucien slaps Korbin's hand away; a deep grumble in his tone. "...I was joking. I thought that much was obvious to you."

Korbin pulls back, and grins. "Well, it's too bad that I took your words completely seriously then!" Spinning around, he begins to close the distance between himself and the well where Martin and the boy still stand together. "Erinil, my dear adoring fan!" He waves a hand overhead to quickly gain his attention. "I know that you are busy conducting a serious discussion with my brother over the many secrets that the well may hold, but I was curious if you would allow your Grand Champion to steal you away, so that we may speak of things just as exciting, and perhaps even more so!"

"Silencer, no!" Lucien screams, following quickly at his heels. "I'm begging you to reconsider this course of action!"

Erinil leaps from the well, and frantically nods his head. "Oh, of course, Mr. Grand Champion, sir!" He squeals, and then pauses to look at Martin with a nervous smile. "Well, that is... as long as Mr. Martin doesn't mind too much."

"Not at all, little one," Martin tells him simply – almost too pleased that the conversation over why, exactly, he did not live with Lucien and Korbin proper was now shifting away to other matters – as he runs a hand over his hair in passing. "I'm certain our conversation can wait until a later time."

"Korbin, did you not hear me at all!?" Lucien shouts once again, breathless from his every emotion, and sudden sprinting. "There has to be something – anything – that you could do that isn't... that is not this! Even the most foolish idea you have had in your lifetime is far better than what it is you are currently planning!"

Korbin turns his head, and instantly quiets Lucien's frantic words. "Hush now, brother! Be silent, won't you!?" He chides with a narrowed stare. "You'll end up ruining the surprise, and that's truly half the fun! Besides, I will have you know that this is somewhat of a private conversation. So, if you wish to be a part of it, you will simply have to wait your turn until you're summoned..."

He looks to where Martin is standing beside the west wall of the Abandoned House, and points. "Why don't you go and be a good little Assassin, and wait with Martin until I call you, all right?"

Lucien clutches his hands into fists, eagerly imagining that Korbin's neck is firmly within his grasp, but he quickly forces himself back into some means of composure when he witnesses the look in the young Bosmer's eyes once again. He breathes in, lowers his palms to his sides, and then nods with a strained smile.

"...Very well." He mutters before, unwillingly, doing just exactly as he is told – all the while feeling utterly ridiculous.

Martin raises an eyebrow as Lucien comes to stand beside him. "Do I... even want to know what all of that was about?"

Lucien deflates with a heavy, drawn out sigh. "No, not at all," He tells Martin. "But do understand that the very next time one of those damnable Gates of Oblivion chooses to open in close vicinity to us... I am leaping into its fiery depths to spare myself of the torment of having to suffer through any more of our brother’s ‘brilliant’ ideas..."

Erinil happily follows behind in Korbin's shadow when Lucien leaves them for a time. "What is it that you wanted to talk with me about, Mr. Grand Champion, sir?" He asks, his hands intertwined together over his chest.

"Why, a great many thing, actually!" Korbin replies; turning slightly as he reaches the side of the well and smiling down at the boy. "And all of them based around a collection of different questions I would so dearly enjoy if you could answer for me! Do you believe that you can do that, Eri?"

"Oh yes! Oh, yes, of course, my Grand Champion, sir!" Erinil hops upon the surface of the well so that he might address Korbin far more easily in light of their height difference. "Ask whatever you wish, and I will do my best to answer them however I possibly can!"

"Wonderful!" Korbin points a single finger. "Question number one: how are you enjoying being in the city of Cheydinhal? Obviously, it's quite different from the cities you are used to, and you even mentioned yourself that you have never actually been on this side of the province before. So, are you enjoying yourself, eager to see more, or are you longing for home after such a journey?"

"I really like it here, sir!" Erinil answers almost instantly as he kicks his feet against the well. "Yes, it is different from what I'm used to, and it's nothing like Bravil... but I think that's the reason I like it so much. Because knowing something like this is here, not too far away from the Imperial City, and is filled with beautiful surroundings, houses, and people living here like you, Mr. Lachance, and Mr. Martin..." He shakes his head with a content giggle. "Sure, I could always go home and wait for Ravenil to come back from his Priestly duties... but I really rather prefer where I am right now than back there."

Korbin smiles softly at the boy's words; feeling as though what he had chosen to do, what he was about to do, and what he was about to give to Erinil was surely the right choice in the end after all. Yes, perhaps Lucien was aghast to what he was doing, and perhaps the remainder of the Dark Family would be deeply confused to why this boy was now a presence in the – soon to not be so – Abandoned House, as well as the Sanctuary halls themselves, but it was all for the better.

He was giving him a chance to feel kinship, to have the love of those that would accept him – even if it surely would take quite some time to adjust, at first – and to not simply return to the emptiness of a home and await a brother that seemed to be far more interested in his holy duties than his own family.

This was good. This was right. And much like the Grey Prince, this was another thing that he would change for the better.

Korbin nods as his thoughts subside, and chuckles in response to the boy’s words. "Very good answer, Erinil," He tells him, and then points two fingers. "All right, question number two: what has been your thoughts on traveling with us so far? Obviously, you were more than eager to spend time with your dear Grand Champion, but what of my other siblings, Martin, and Lucien? What are your opinions on them, if you have any opinions at all? I've seen you speaking to Martin quite often, but... is it a positive thing?"

"But of course it's a positive thing, sir!" Once more, Erinil answers almost instantly once Korbin finishes forming his questions. "Being able to travel with you three has been a dream come true! Meeting you at the Arena, and having you mark my arrow was one thing, but getting to go on a journey with you, right beside your brothers? It was remarkable, amazing, even!" He then quiets down and looks over to where Martin and Lucien linger. When he does, and Martin senses eyes trained upon him, he looks up, and waves his hand in greeting – and then quickly nudges a still despairing Lucien with his elbow to do just the same.

The pleasant sight makes the boy's laughter return, and he shifts his gaze to glance down to where his feet dangle from the side of the well. "I like them," He says after a moment; his voice soft, and quiet. Almost as though it was something he wished only for Korbin to hear. "They're very nice... even if Mr. Lachance doesn't think himself to be that way. I know he likes to be dark, and really scary sometimes, but I can still see the niceness that he has. I see the way he acts around you both when he thinks no one is looking, and it's a happy thing. A good thing. It even reminds me of how my brother used to be when I was really really little."

Erinil looks up and smiles innocently. "He's a good big brother, and Mr. Martin is a good person. He doesn't mind when I'm silly, or when I ask lots of questions, and I like that. They're both very good people, and I know they make you happy because of the funny smile you wear around them. So, I really like them. Just as much as you do, sir."

It takes a moment before Korbin is able to find the strength needed to respond properly to what Erinil has said, and the truth that lingers in his gentle, kindhearted words. He turns his head to steal a glance at Lucien and Martin over his shoulder; chuckling to himself as warmth flows over him and settles in his chest. He breathes through his overwhelming emotions, and slowly turns his head back towards the boy, and that is when he is greeted with the sight of him offering his hand.

Korbin raises an eyebrow as he stares down at the small hand in front of him. "...What are you doing, Eri?"

"Everything I just told you, about your brothers, how I feel about them, and all the other nice words... it has to stay our secret, okay?" Erinil tells him with a strangely serious glint in his sparkling eyes. "You have to make me a promise that you won't tell them anything I said, because I know that Mr. Lachance would deny it if he heard, and Mr. Martin would blush a deep red as though he's a ripe tomato. So... it has to stay just between us, all right?" The boy waves his still extended hand up and down in emphasis to the importance in his words. "Please, please promise me that it will, Mr. Grand Champion, sir!"

Korbin laughs more genuinely, and then reaches out to shakes the boy's hand. "But of course, Erinil," He says, easily mimicking the same amount of seriousness in his tone. "Nothing that you said to me will reach their ears. I give you my word, and I swear to you that they will never know..." A playful smile then twitches in the corner of his lips. "Even despite how amusing it would be to see suddenly Lucien turn all bashful, and Martin bright red!"

"Sir, you just said that you would keep it a secret!"

"And I will; I will!" Korbin holds up his hands defensively. "I was only just teasing! That's all I was doing, I assure you!"

Erinil puffs out his cheeks and crosses his arms over his chest. "You and Mr. Martin joke the same..." He mutters, and then slowly his smile returns. "But I suppose that's because it runs in the family, right? All siblings kind of act like one another, even if they don't always want to admit they do! I mean, me and my brother share the same stammer sometimes, so it's nice to see that you and Martin share the same sense of humor!"

Korbin blinks in confusion. "Wait, Eri, I think you're a bit –"

"But anyway, what was the other question you had for me, sir!? I'm happy to keep answering them for you!"

"Oh, ah... right, right. We were getting slightly off track, weren’t we?" Korbin shakes his head, and then holds up three fingers. "My third question for you:"—he moves aside so that Erinil can see the house more clearly—"What are your thoughts regarding the Abandoned House? I know I spoke of it rather highly, and you were excited to see it up close, and the well that you're currently sitting on, but I am curious if your opinion has changed any in the aftermath. Is it as nice as the other houses in Cheydinhal? Does it remind you of your own home, making you want to remain here for an extended period, or do you simply wish to see it all in passing, and then continue with our adventure?"

"I like it, sir. I really do," Erinil replies. "It's very beautiful just like the other homes I have seen in the city, but..." A frown crosses over the boy's lips, and he kicks a single foot against the well. "It actually makes me rather sad the more that I think about it."

"Sad?" Korbin repeats curiously. Of all the answers he was expecting, they were surely not remotely close to this one. "Why exactly does it make you sad?"

"Well, isn't it obvious, sir? Because it's abandoned, of course!" Erinil answers in the very same seriousness as when he spoke of secrets and promises. "You said it yourself that it's called the Abandoned House, and to know this wonderous, beautiful looking home was abandoned by someone, and left all alone... it makes me really sad. Yes, it doesn't look the same as the other homes in the city, but does that really matter? Everyone is special in their own way, and everyone has their own traits that make them... them! So, to know someone could not accept this home's differences... well, it makes me sad, but also very angry!"

"Angry? I could understand sad, somewhat, at least, but why angry?"

"Because there isn't anything that I can do to help make the home feel better!" Erinil throws up his fists; turning emotional. "It's all alone, and I know that it wants someone to care for it, but everyone I have seen in the city just passes it by without even saying hello to it! And that makes me angry, because the home is right there, and no one is paying it any attention, or giving it any care! So, yes sir, I like the home... but I just wish I could do more for the poor thing!"

Korbin runs a hand over his beard; smiling knowingly. "So, you only wish that you could do something to help, hm?" He mutters quietly, almost to himself, and then suddenly clasps his hands. "Very well then! I have one final question for you, my little friend, and once you answer this one in the same special way you've answered all the others, I will grant to you quite the remarkable surprise!"

Erinil's eyes shine with an almost star like glow as they widen considerably. "A remarkable surprise?" He repeats, almost in awe of what he is hearing. "You mean... you mean just like my special token? Just like the black arrow you marked for me? That kind of special surprise, Mr. Grand Champion, sir?"

"Actually, Erinil, what I have in mind would be even better than that arrow!" Korbin replies with a joyful laugh. "It would not only be something you would cherish from here on out, but something that would also keep you safe, and show that you are now officially—" And then he stops, and quickly slaps a hand over his mouth. "Whoops! Dear me, what was I doing!? I just about spoiled the surprise far too early! But I suppose if you really want to know what this surprise of mine is, you will just have to answer my final question, all right?"

"Aww, but that's kind of cheating!" The boy whines, before slowly folding his hands into his lap, and finding whatever remains of his composure amid his greatly overpowering excitement. "But... if that is how I end up getting the surprise, then I will do it! I will certainly do it! And I will do it just for you, my Grand Champion!"

"Wonderful to hear!" Korbin grins widely. "And rest assured, that it is this final question that is the easiest to answer of them all. It's a simple yes, or a simple no, and regardless of how you choose to answer, I shall still grant to you the special surprise either way!" He holds up four fingers, all the while keeping his grin perfectly in place. "And here we go: would you, my dear little adoring fan, enjoy having a proper grown up job?"

Erinil instantly opens his mouth to speak, just as he had done for every question that had come before; but before he is able to form even a single sentence in response, a look of the utmost confusion overtakes him, and he remains upon the well looking much like a fish snatched violently out of water. His mouth opening, then shutting, then opening once again, and ultimately, after several moments of merely sitting there in stunned silence, he just groans – or rather whines – through the intense feeling of sheer bewilderment at the Grand Champion's question.

"W-Wait... wait, what?" He stammers; narrowing his eyes in deep thought, as he shakes his head, and struggles to make sense of what he is hearing. "What do you mean... a proper grown up job? What even is a proper grown up job, and why are you asking me whether I would want one or not? Does that mean I have to choose a job, or... actually, a better question! What would you even want someone like me doing for someone like you? If it is, in fact, that you truly want me to work for you... or... or..." Another drawn out whine of frustration escapes him. "I don't understand what you mean, sir! Please speak more plainly, because I am very, very confused right now about... about everything!"

Korbin chuckles lightly and touches his hand to Erinil's shoulder. "Eri, it really isn't that difficult..." He pauses as the boy continues to stare at him with near endless confusion, thinks back over his words, and then continues to laugh – but at his own expense. "All right, perhaps it was a bit out of nowhere, and I didn't quite phrase it properly... well, how about I just ask you directly, instead of forming it into a question like the others, hm?"

"All right, I like that a lot better, but... what do you want to ask me, sir?"

"I merely wanted to know whether or not you wanted to come to work for me, my brothers, and the rest of my family."

Erinil's mouth hangs open, once again, but in shock rather than confusion. "Wait, you were... you really meant what you said?" He asks in a breathless, disbelieving whisper. "It wasn't just another joke, or something to shake me up, so that you could laugh over my reaction afterwards? You... you really wanted to know whether I would come work for you?"

Korbin smiles genuinely. "Yes, of course, Erinil. After all, I did say the final question was the easiest one to answer," He explains by echoing his previous words. "A simple yes, or a simple no."

"But... but what would I even do? It isn't as though I can fight like you, Mr. Grand Champion, and there is no way that I'm as skilled with magic like Mr. Martin, or as clever with shadows, or sneaking like Mr. Lachance!" Erinil hangs his head slightly, kicking against the well once again. "I know I said that I'm very fast, and good at hiding when I need to be, but compared to you three, I would... I would be rather useless, I'm afraid..."

"And that is where you would be wrong in thinking so, my friend!" Korbin quickly adds; patting both of Erinil's shoulders in reassurance. "In fact, there no one else I would rather entrust with this one, very special task. Everyone else would surely fail, would surely make a fool out of themselves, where you – my beloved adoring fan – would be the best possible choice in all of Cyrodiil itself!"

Erinil looks back up with a weak smile of his own. "...You really think so?"

"Remember how we made our promise over keeping certain things secret, and I gave to you my word?" Korbin lightly pokes Erinil's nose. "The very same thing applies to now! So, what do you say? Would you like to have this very special, very grown up job, so that you might rub it in your older brother's face three times over when he returns from his Priestly Pilgrimage?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" Erinil squeals with a pump of his fists. "But... I don't even know what the job is. You haven't really told me yet. Is it... is it dangerous? Like how dangerous it was when we were on the road from Bravil to here? The kind of danger that was very different from when I went to the Imperial City to see you fight? The kind that involves bandits, and beasts, and flaming gates I don't really understand? That kind of dangerous?"

"No, no, no!" Korbin quickly interjects; cutting off Erinil's train of thought before his overthinking somehow frightens him away. "It wouldn't involve anything of the sort, I assure you. In fact, all you would really be doing is guarding, watching, and protecting something that desperately needs you more than ever. Which is, of course, just as important as all those other things you mention, but far, far less scary."

Erinil narrows his eyes in thought once more. "Guarding, watching, and protecting something that needs me...?" He whispers under his breath, and then looks up at Korbin with a child's innocence. "It isn't you, is it, Mr. Grand Champion, sir?"

"No, no. It's not me, I promise," Korbin laughs faintly. "Although, I have no doubt that my brothers certainly feel as though I need constant protection, and would be willing to use you a means of keeping me out of trouble from time to time..." He shakes his head. "In any case, what it is that needs protecting... is actually something that you're already familiar with. Something that has been, as you told me just before, left all alone, and abandoned, and without anyone to care for it."

"W-Wait, you... you don't... mean?" Erinil manages to stammer, the sparkle returning in his eyes, and his voice raising an octave higher in pitch as the truth begins to dawn. "You don't mean it's the Abandoned House that needs my protection, do you?!"

"I do, my friend, I do indeed!" Korbin replies, effortlessly mirroring Erinil's unending joy. "Because after your rousing speech of how every house should be loved and cared for – as well as my brother's own suggestion – I came to realize that no one else in all of Nirn could fit the role of home protector, and guardsmen quite like you!"

Upon hearing such incredible words, Erinil leaps from the well, and begins to dance in a circle around Korbin as he hums a familiar tune.

"Oh, dear sweet, Azura!" He cries out, giggling and continuing his song despite how the world blurs from many numerous circles. "This is amazing, this is wonderful, this is the very best possible surprise ever! Even more so than the arrow you gave me! To know that you, the Grand Champion, believes in me, and wants me to do something of worth! To actually protect something and actually take care of it! That is... that is the most remarkable thing I have ever—"

And then suddenly he stops, swaying on his feet slightly, and frowns. "But... but wait... how does someone protect a house?" He questions, mostly to himself, and then turns to address Korbin. "I've never done anything like this before. I mean, I've had a house before, and I've watched it while my brother was away, time and again, but... to protect it, and guard it like you’re suggesting? I don't really think that what you have in mind for me is the same thing as what I've done before..."

"Well, no. It's not the same thing, not exactly," Korbin begins to explain. "But you would stay in the home – much like you did in your own in Bravil – and you would watch over it. Making sure it was kept nice, and that it had a kind presence in it so it wouldn't feel lonely. So, you would sleep, and eat in there, and whatever else that you would like to do to give it company! And, you would also guard the special door in the basement that leads to mine and my family's workspace, as well as taking care of the lovely well that you are absolutely enamored with."

"If that is everything I have to do, sir," Erinil tells him with a gentle grin. "Then I will be able to do it very easily! And very happily at that! Rest assured, my Grand Champion, I will be the very best home protector, and guardsman that you, your brothers, and the rest of your family has ever had in their lifetime, and the next!"

Korbin waves his palms and attempts – somewhat in vain – to somehow quell the boy's excitement so he might get a word in. "Easy, easy, Eri!" He says, unable to keep the laughter from his tone as he deals with the boy. "While I am remarkably glad you are going to do your very best at the job that I have granted you, there is still... one more thing that I have yet to discuss with you, and it is just as important as everything else that is causing your joy and excitement."

"Really?" Erinil tilts his head. "What is it then?"

"It's the matter of what you will do if someone – someone sneaky, suspicious, and not at all looking like myself, or Lucien – comes upon the well, or dares to enter into the Not-So-Abandoned House uninvited," Korbin continues to clarify as best he is able. "But to do that properly, I will have to bring forth the second part of your surprise."

"There's another part of the surprise?" Erinil gasps. "Other than the job you just gave me?"

Korbin nods his head. "Oh yes, indeed there is!" He says, and then pokes a finger to Erinil's forehead once again. "But you will have to wait a moment, as well as close your eyes. After all, if you saw the surprise before I presented it to you, it would spoil, and soil the fantastic mood! So, why don't you spin around a few times, while keeping your eyes closed, and allow me to hear the lovely tune you hummed before... and by the time you're done, then I will be done, and you will have your surprise in the palm of your hand!"

"Aww, really?" Erinil whines as he places his hands over his eyes. "Well, all right, sir! I will do exactly as you said but understand that I shall be waiting more impatiently than ever before, so you should probably hurry as quickly as you can!"

Korbin carefully backs away from the boy, and towards where Lucien and Martin are still leaning against the house in the distance. "Duly noted, Eri. Duly noted." Once he is completely out of earshot, he then spins on his heel, and frantically begins patting himself down. "All right, all right... spare dagger, spare dagger... come on, I know you have to have one in all of these bloody pouches and pockets somewhere... after all, Lucien would surely string you up by your ankles if you so much as dared to leave his sight without—"

And then, as though a sudden light is turned on within his mind, he refocuses his vision upon his brothers, and grins more widely. "Lucien!" He rushes over to where Lucien stands – now looking in his direction upon hearing his name being all but screamed – and rapidly circles around him several times in a row. "My dearest brother, will you hold still for a moment?"

Lucien blinks in genuine surprise, feeling himself being spun around by his Silencer's hands, as his head begins to swim. "Kor-Kor... Korbin, what are you...?" He attempts to ask, struggling to gain his attention somehow, but when his words fall upon deaf ears, he roughly – and dizzily – jerks out of Korbin's grip. "By Sithis, what the hell are you even doing!?"

"Searching for something!" Korbin replies as though it was the most obvious thing in all of the realm itself. "...But I see that you don't have what I am desperately in need of, so I will now turn to our beloved Septim Heir for assistance!" He clasps his hands together, and gestures towards the lighter of his two older brothers. "Dearest Martin! I have quite the question for you, and I do believe you are the only one who might hold the answer!"

Martin turns from Lucien’s side, as he helps him prop more steadily against the wall in the aftermath of Korbin’s spinning assault, with a raised eyebrow.

"Y-Yes, my brother...?" He asks with a concerned tremble in his voice. "What is it that you think I can help with?"

"Oh, it's all very simple really!" Korbin explains with a short wave of his hand. "I wanted to know if you still had that little dagger on you that you kept when Lucien and I pulled you out of the chapel in Kvatch all those months ago."

"My enchanted dagger, you mean," Martin gently corrects, while placing a hand upon his hip where a brown sheath lies. "Well, yes... of course I do. I hardly allowed this single piece of reassurance to leave my side since the first attack upon Kvatch, and throughout all the time spent upon the endless roads together." He shakes his head. "But you should have already known this... so, why are you only asking about it now, Korbin?"

Korbin smiles nervously. "Because I... well, you see, I actually need to take it from you," He explains with an equally uneasy laugh. "So I might use it for something incredibly important, and something that you would surely agree to if you only knew the reason – although you should probably know that I am also quite hesitant to actually share the reason, because if I did, Lucien would have a fit of laughter over it, and I would very much not enjoy having to tackle him to the ground in front of Eri."

Martin's eyes widen in both surprise, and utter confusion. "What?!" He shouts, and then quickly softens his tone so Erinil would not accidentally hear. "What in all of the names of the Divines are you talking about? Why would you ever need to take my dagger from me? I would be rendered defenseless and considering our record for attracting danger, I must say that I, too, am rather hesitant just as well, and rightfully so!"

"Oh, come on, Martin!" Korbin whines with a stomping of his foot that makes him look almost twenty years younger than he should. "I know you might not agree with it, but it's important! It's more than important! It’s... it's..." He looks towards Lucien, then back at Martin, and bends forward; sighing deeply. "It's for Erinil, all right? I offered him a job to become our personal little guardsman of the Abandoned House, and the well, and while he's not exactly going to be rushing off on contracts as myself, or Lucien would... he still needs to protect himself if something happens. Especially if someone gets close and catches him unaware. It's not so much that I'm trying to steal from you, I just want to keep the kid safe, okay?"

He stands back to his full height and runs a hand over the back of his neck. "Besides, if you're really so concerned about being left defenseless, and you don't think you're able to keep yourself safe with just your magic, then... I'll replace your dagger with something even better. Something that will keep you safe ten times over than a simple dagger that tries to shock people to death ever would."

Martin breathes in, looking towards where Erinil spins around in the distance for some unknown reason, and then back to where Korbin stands in front of him, and sighs deeply.

"Brother, I'm still not entirely sure about this. He is such a young boy, what if—?"

"It's going to keep him safe, and out of harm’s way, Martin. I promise you," Korbin adds in his regular tone of voice, and then returns to his whining just as quickly. "Pleaaaaase? For me? Or maybe for Erinil? Whichever one you'd like that would allow the weight on your conscience to be lessened somehow?"

"All right, all right," Martin yields to the power of Korbin’s pleading, and pulls the dagger from its stealth to place it carefully within his hand. "Just... make absolute certain that he doesn't harm himself with it or end up inflicting harm on anyone who does not truly deserve it."

Korbin instantly lights up and envelops Martin into a sudden crushing embrace. "Oh, thank you, brother! Thank you! You are an absolute, and remarkable wonder, and Erinil is going to appreciate this far more than you will ever know!" He lets his brother go after hardly even a full second passes, not nearly enough for Martin to register what exactly he was doing, and then quickly begins to make his way back to Erinil's side.

As Martin is left fumbling for any manner of understanding of what just took place, a brief scoff escapes Lucien's lips. "Ah, the remarkable softness of a holy Priest of Akatosh," He quips with every word dipped in a natural dry wit. "It is always such a sight to behold, and I am so very honored to have witnessed it up close once again. Do you believe that I shall have good luck, or countless blessings in the following weeks because of it, or shall I simply wait for the next moment of tender compassion to grace my eyes?"

That alone is enough to pull Martin back to the present, and he immediately stiffens as a faint red hue overtakes his cheeks. "I do not even wish to hear it, Lachance," He grumbles under his breath in embarrassment. "So simply drop it before I do something that I shall surely regret in retaliation."

"What a glorious Emperor you shall become, Martin," Lucien adds in a mocking tone. "Your gentle heart and hallow threats shall be talked about in countless stories to come, I am almost certain of it."

Closing the distance between the edge of the house, and the side of the well that had become so important in such a short amount of time, Korbin is only able to get partway before Erinil's pointed ears twitch from the familiar sound of leather boots treading partially dead grass underfoot. He quickly spins around with a large smile on his face – all the while hands still cup over his eyes just as his dear Grand Champion had told him only prior to leaving him alone.

"Mr. Grand Champion, sir?" The young boy calls, unable to keep the excitement from his voice even slightly. "Is that you that I am hearing? I hear boots, and I hear grass, so that must mean you're coming back now, right? And if you're coming back, then that means I can stop spinning, humming, and hiding my eyes, right!? Because you're back, with my surprise, and you're only second away from giving it to me?!"

Korbin chuckles – something that had become almost instinctive while remaining in the presence of his beloved little fan – and lowers himself into a kneel. "Yes, and no, actually, Eri," He tells him, and then carefully turns the blade of Martin's dagger, that was about to become Erinil's, in the palm of his hand. "I have indeed returned, but I'm afraid you'll have to continue to keep your eyes closed for a few moments longer, as I want you to –"

"—Awww, no!" Erinil interrupts with the same impatient whining. "No, no, no! But sir! But you said that—"

"—As I want you to hold out your hand for me, so I might give to you your very special surprise at long last," Korbin completes his sentence before Erinil could accuse him of trickery with a softer laugh. "Do you think you could do that for me, my friend? I mean, you have done everything else that I have asked of you almost perfectly, so I highly doubt that thrusting out your hand will be too difficult of a task for you to—" He begins to say the word ‘accomplish’, but before he can even form it with his lips, he feels a sudden pressure coming to collide in the center of his armor.

With a groan, he looks down with a curious stare, and realizes that Erinil – in all of his innocent, childish, and unending excitement that he had surely not helped to quell even remotely – did just as he so asked of him, but did it far too quickly. Causing his little fist to accidentally punch him directly in the chest by mistake. Korbin shakes his head, burying down the weak wave of pain that courses through his body for only an instance, and then smiles inwardly.

Knowing that, once again, that this was the right choice. That this boy belonged here. And that he was doing a good thing in granting him his own place among them. Although... he would surely have to work on the force of his attack at some point. But that would certainly come at a much later time, if it even came at all without the ominous presence of his brother’s rage looming directly over his shoulder.

He places the dagger within Erinil's extended hand, and slowly closes his fingers around the hilt. "All right, you can go ahead and open your eyes now." Korbin tells him; his tone slowly shifting and becoming more tender, gentler as he speaks to the boy.

Erinil takes his remaining hand from his eyes, and then blinks as he becomes increasingly aware of just how brightly the sun above him shines, how pretty the walls, and houses around him actually look, and just how happy seeing the Grand Champion in front of him makes him feel. He smiles, about to greet him warmly, to tell him hello, when Korbin points a finger down to his hand.

The boy's eyes flicker with confusion for a moment, as his nose crinkles, and then suddenly he remembers why he held out his hand in the first place! It wasn't just to follow the Grand Champion's every word; it was because of his special surprise! His special present! The thing the Grand Champion had told him would go along swimmingly with the amazing job he had received!

He looks down and is met with a flash of silver shimmering against the light of the sun. At first, he is uncertain what to make of what was lying within the palm of his hand. It looked... quite shiny, and incredibly sharp, to be sure, but it also looked extremely beautiful; just as beautiful as the rest of the city around him, but with something considerably more unique that radiated amidst the silver.

The silver looked as though it glowed. Or sparked, or even flickered, perhaps? Whatever the case may have been, it appeared to the boy’s eye that there was indeed something special about this tool – something almost magical – that made his hands tremble, and not simply because the Grand Champion gave it to him!

After a moment of consideration, and when his mind finally chooses to act proper once again, he breathes through an overwhelmed gasp, and brings the blade close to his chest; familiar confusion mixed with a much more natural awe illumining brightly in his large green eyes.

"...What is this, sir?" He asks somewhat cautiously; almost afraid the Grand Champion would take back his gift just as quickly as he had bestowed it if he somehow dared to question. "I mean... I know what it looks like. It looks like a tool of some kind, the same kind that you use to cut leather, or to carve wood, and yet it seems very different than any I have seen before! And if is so different, and so very special at the same time, then... why are you giving it to me?"

Korbin places his hands over Erinil's shoulders. "Do you remember what I told you before, Eri?" He asks; speaking with the same gentle tone. "That there was another part to the job I had given you, and how it was based around what you may have to do if someone you don’t know – someone who does not look like myself, or my siblings – come upon the house, or the well unexpectedly?"

Erinil nods his head. "Oh yes, I do, sir! Very easily, in fact!" He says with an overly pleased giggle. "After all, it was only a few moments ago that you first said it, and that was when—"

"—Erinil, my friend, I want you to try and focus for a moment, all right?" Korbin interjects firmly. "And the reason I want you to do that is because I need you to understand why I am entrusting this dagger to you. And why it is incredibly important, perhaps even the most important thing there is, that you always keep it on you when you are within the house, and around the well."

"...Is it because you want me to whittle special presents for you, and your family, so I can give them as much joy as you have given me with all of your amazing gifts?"

Korbin shakes his head with a more amused laugh at the sight of Erinil's persistent innocence. "No, no. It's nothing like that. I mean, yes, it is a gift, and I would truly enjoy anything you gave me in return, but it's..." His words trail off for a moment, and he stares up into the sky above in the hopes of locating the appropriate wording needed to help the boy understand the gravity of the situation without somehow crushing his enthusiasm in the process. "Oh, Sithis, how am I going to explain this to you? It's... It’s more as though I want you to keep this dagger on you because of defensive reasons."

"Defensive reasons, sir?" Erinil repeats Korbin’s words; holding out the dagger in both hands and staring down at it as his confusion only grows.

"Understand that I don't want to scare you, or anything, Eri," Korbin begins to say. "And I hope and pray to whoever gives enough of a damn that it would never have to actually come to this, but... if someone starts skulking around, and attempts to get into the house, or the well, or... even worse, if they try to get close to you, and does anything that isn't very nice"—he points to the dagger in the boy's hand—"then I want you to take this blade, and I want to fight back. Fight back just exactly as I did in the Arena and send them one of the most unforgettable messages that you can possibly give them!"

Erinil blinks as he struggles to make sense of what he is being told. "You want me to... to give them a message, sir?" He shakes his head. "With... with this blade you just gave me?"

"Yes! Yes, that is precisely what I want you to do!" Korbin cries out as he squeezes the boy's shoulders affectionately. "Oh, I just knew you would eventually realize what I was attempting to tell you if I spelled it out carefully enough! I want you to do everything I just said, and everything you just repeated, and make absolute certain that you sign such a message with the utmost brilliant source of red ink there is available!"

However, despite Korbin's cheerful attempts to help Erinil understand, the young Bosmer merely feels his head beginning to spin in circles at the Grand Champion's words. He feels just as he had when he told him that he wouldn't let him go off to Bravil alone, and his brothers found him afterwards. He thought he understood, and yet the more the Grand Champion spoke, the less sense that it made! First he gave him a special little blade, and now he is saying that he wishes for him to use it for some strange purpose when uninvited guests arrive at the about-to-be-cared-for house, and the lovely secret well he is standing near?

What was all this talk about writing messages, and signing with red ink? He knew that he was much younger than the Grand Champion and his brothers, but even he knew what could be used as a writing instrument, and what couldn't! And this blade most certainly could not! After all, it had no feathers, thus making it different from a quill, and it had nothing it could be dipped into and be used for writing!

It wasn't a source of magic that could be transformed into a very pretty, very fancy spell to write upon the air much like his brother used to do... it was a blade! A blade which could be used for many different tasks, certainly, but not for writing! How could the Grand Champion get them so terribly mixed up?

Perhaps he was tired from such a long journey, and from winning every match in the Arena... but even if that was the case, he still should have known better! But then again, the more that he thought about it, the more he realized that all his words made very little sense.

Why, oh why, would the Grand Champion want him to dirty his special gift he just presented? He most definitely did not want to smudge the silver, or stop the blue that flickered-sparked every few seconds; he wanted to do nothing more than keep it safe, keep it clean, and wear it on his belt with the utmost pride, and do the job he was given with his head held high!

Go away messages, or ‘sorry, but you are not invited’ letters could be written with normal quills, and normal ink much later if they were so desperately needed! But not with his special blade! As his mind finally begins to settle, and his own version of the truth behind the Grand Champion’s words becomes clear, Erinil puffs out his cheeks in response, and stomps his foot in sheer frustration.

"Sir, you're not making much sense!" He whines, but there is a hint of childish anger just underneath. "I know that you said you didn't know how you were going to explain this to me, but what you chose is quite bad! Very bad, actually! Because now you're just confusing a quill with a blade, and I will have you know that they are two completely different things entirely!"

Korbin blinks; taken aback. "Wait, what do you—?"

"Here, look! I'll show you!" Erinil holds the blade firmly in one hand, and then makes a writing gesture with the other. "Do you see? You write messages with a quill, or a special pen! Most certainly not a blade! Blades are supposed to be used for crafts, or armoring! Not messages! Besides, how would I even fit the blade into the inkwell? It's far too big! And even if I did, it would end up slicing through the paper, and would make any message look terribly messy, and then no one would want to read it!"

"Eri, I don't think you're—"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Grand Champion, sir. But I think you're just very, very confused from a very long journey together!" Erinil reaches and pats Korbin's shoulder. "Maybe you should go take a nap with your brothers for a while, because even I know what can be used for writing, and what can't! No matter how special the message is, or how great the ink may be!"

Korbin barks a genuine laugh, and then slowly pries the boy's hand from his shoulder. "My dear adoring fan, I do not think it is I who is the one confused here," He says through a half gasp, half chuckle. "Because I wasn't actually being serious with what I said about using the dagger to send a message or dipping it into the province's most natural source of red."

"You didn't?" Erinil tilts his head. "Then what did you mean? And why would you word it in such a confusing way?"

"Well, I worded it in that way because I was trying to be discreet enough so I wouldn't end up frightening you."

Erinil stomps his foot; upset over the fact that Grand Champion was seeing him as a child once again. "I don't get frightened easily, sir! You know that!" Erinil says, and then moves past his anger to force a smile. "So, you can tell me anything that you want! It's perfectly all right!"

Korbin finds himself running a nervous hand over the back of his neck. "Right, well... the whole thing about using the dagger to send a message? I meant it as using it against any enemy that tried to hurt you, or attempted to breech our hideout," He explains with a strained smile. This was not at all as easy "And the, ah, red ink? It wasn't ink, it was... well, you know. But actually, perhaps you don’t, and perhaps I should just come out and say it directly? It was blood. The very same blood of the enemy that would fall at your hand because of your dagger."

"...W-What...? Bl-Blo...Blood?" Erinil stammers in response; caught between wanting to clutch the dagger closer to his chest protectively and wanting to simply throw it down into the grass in disgust. "But why... but why would you ever want me to... to do something like... something like that?"

The sound of a harsh slap is heard from across the yard, and Korbin does not have to look over his shoulder to know that one of his siblings were actively trying to shove the palm of their own hand through the entirety of their forehead. What he does not expect, however, is an all too familiar shadow to suddenly envelop over him, or to be able to feel the heat of his piercing stare burning a fresh hole in the back of his head.

Whatever uneasiness he may have felt whilst explaining the concept of daggers and blood to Erinil only doubles when he feels Lucien's hand come to fall within his messy grey locks – and then quickly shove him to the side with a single push.

"For the love of the Dread Father, you are making an absolute fool out of yourself," Lucien hisses through a sharp breath as he scowls at his Silencer now toppled over into the grass. "I do not believe, in all my many years of life, that I have ever witnessed someone butcher an explanation of what to do with a weapon so thoroughly as you are doing in this moment. That is quite the considerable accomplishment, and you should be utterly ashamed of yourself."

With a huff, Korbin sits up, and spits dead pieces of grass from his mouth. "Look, he asked for the truth behind my words, and I simply gave it to him!" He shouts his irritated reply. "What would you have me do, lie to the very boy who is about to brought into our world?!"

"No, but I would have you do a far better job than you are currently," Lucien crosses his arms over his chest. "In fact, your explanation was so atrocious and insulting to anyone who had the misfortune to hear it, that Martin practically begged me to come over and end this madness before it had a chance to continue."

"Well, fine then!" Korbin all but bellows; looking as though he could be the Bosmer boy's mirror image in childishness to Lachance's dark gaze. "If you think that you're somehow capable of doing a better job than I did... then by all means! Be my guest and see where it gets you!"

"It would truly be my utmost pleasure," Lucien murmurs, and then slowly kneels down into the grass in front of Erinil just as Korbin had only prior. "Now listen carefully, child. What is it my Silencer was attempting to tell you, and has surely failed to do so... is actually quite simple when you do not go out of the way to soften the blow of reality for the sake of a tender heart. The glorious weapon he entrusted to you... the one you currently have within your possession there?"—he gestures to it with a nod of his chin—"Do you understand what it shall be used for?"

Erinil shuffles uncomfortably on his feet. "...To be used to send a message to those that you, or the Grand Champion, or the rest of the family do not want to have at their home to spend an evening with, Mr. Lachance?"

"No, no, no," Lucien wags a finger. "Nothing quite so... poetic as my Silencer may have described it for you. What it is you shall actually do with that dagger is carry it upon your person at all times. You will never take it off, as it shall serve as a means of protecting yourself from any and all harm that might befall you whilst you stay within the Abandoned House, or when you guard the exterior of the home, and the well that rests just beside it."

"Oh! Well, if that's what the Grand Champion meant, then I can most certainly—"

"Ah, but there is one more thing," Lucien interrupts the boy before he can toss himself into a joyous ramble. "And it is regarding how you shall use that very same weapon to promptly deal with guests we do not desire having at our home – as you so eloquently described them. You see, your Grand Champion, myself, as well as Martin – for the dagger now in your hand once belonged to him for a time – wishes for you to use your newfound gift and root out those who should not be in the vicinity. Those who seek to uncover the sanguine tinted secrets lurking just beneath the surface of the well, and household, and wish nothing more than to bring grievous harm upon us all."

Erinil turns the hilt of the dagger over in his palm almost absentmindedly as he listens. Once he believes that Lucien had finally finished speaking, he asks a curious question.

"...But how would I ‘promptly deal’ with all the uninvited guests with something like my blade tool, Mr. Lachance?"

"Why, by plunging it deep into their miserable bodies, of course!" Lucien explains far too calmly; his voice a mixture of stoic composure, and a rather strange patience as he speaks candidly of terrifying subject matter. "For that is the true power lurking within your gift. Not to create quaint trinkets of wood, or to shape the most glorious of leather, but to find those who dare to stand against us and end their curiosity in a more permanent sense. Until they take heed of the warning you are sending them, or they merely fall over in a heap. Dead by your sweet bloodstained little hand."

Erinil's eyes grow wider than the dual moons that dance within the darkness of the night sky as he listens to Lucien's horrific words, and he instantly drops the dagger as a choked sob is pulled from his throat.

"But I... but I don't... but, sir! M-Mr... Mr. Lachance, sir! I don't want to do anything like that to anyone!"

And that is the final straw that shatters Martin's saint like patience into pieces. He could stand idly by and allow his dearest friends to go along with the concept of bringing Erinil into the fold of the Dark Brotherhood for the sake of keeping him safe whilst waiting for the return of his elder brother.

He could also swallow his pride, as well as his morals, and allow Korbin to take his dagger as a means of giving it to the boy in the slightest hope it would protect him well enough while doing whatever foolish, makeshift job he had come up with out of absolute nowhere... but to watch the both of them speak of such harsh, cruel, and vicious things Erinil without any possible filter to their words?

To tell him he would do well to bury his blade into anyone that looked even slightly interested in the Abandoned House for one reason or another? And to watch him whimper to the point of tears when he realizes just what it was that were truly telling him? That was simply one step too far, and he surely could not take such an awful sight any longer.

"By the Divines, the Daedra, and anyone else who is having to suffer witnessing this lunacy with their own eyes!" He cries out; an almost furious growl accompanying his words as he sprints from where he was leaning, and over to Erinil's side in an instant. "What in the name of everything light, and holy is wrong with the two of you!? Are you desperately trying to give this poor boy gruesome nightmares for the rest of his young life with your open discussion of death and bloodshed? Because if that is truly the case, then you are making quite the remarkable show of it!"

Lucien blinks with a short frown over his lips; completely unfazed by Martin's sudden dramatic shouting. "...For your information, Septim, I am merely in the process of doing exactly what it is you asked of me."

"No, you are absolutely not doing anything of the sort!" Martin bites back as he pulls Erinil close to him with one hand; his blue gaze beginning to shine with a flicker of gold the angrier he becomes. "If you recall, I asked you to stop Korbin before he managed to frighten the boy all the way back to Bravil... but what you are in the process of doing is effectively the very same thing, albeit considerably much worse!"

"...Mr. Martin, sir?" Erinil whispers as he tugs the sleeve of Martin's blue robing; shock and confusion overtaking his large eyes as he looks up. "Do you... do you really want me to take my special little blade, and p-plu-plunge it into someone who doesn't belong...?"

"Of course not, little one!" Martin instantly replies, and then softens his tone of voice so that his anger would not carry over and cause Erinil further distress somehow. "I would never dream of asking you do something of that nature, and I am so terribly sorry that Korbin and Lachance frightened you with their conversation, but they are often—"

"—There is no need to coddle the boy, Martin," Lucien interrupts with a scoff. "After all, I was not telling him anything that my own father did not tell me at such an age. He is old enough to know of the world’s unflinching cruelty and realize that he must take precaution to keep himself alive, as well as honing his prowess so he might crush his enemies into blood-soaked dust beneath his heel."

Martin breathes in, and it takes every amount of strength he can muster – and then some – not to simply summon forth a random spell to hand and cast it in Lachance's direction. He swallows down the desire to light the rim of Lucien’s robing on fire and allows his anger to flow from his lips through a weary sigh and be replaced with an equal amount of disappointment in its stead. He isn't certain, nor does he quite care, if that is somehow better, or worse.

"...How is it even humanly possible for the two of you to be such cherished companions by my side one moment..." Martin begins to say; allowing his words to trail for a single instance as he turns to cast a more deeply gold tinted glare over his shoulder towards both Korbin and Lucien. "And then turn into something absolutely appalling in the very next? It truly astounds me, and while we have only known one another for a short time now... I can easily tell this will be one puzzle I shall never hope to make sense of, or ever truly understand. And yet, considering the damage you cause from such shifting... perhaps it would be better if I simply spare myself the trouble."

Lucien blinks in genuine surprise, and then slowly turns his head to the side as a faint redness overtakes the corners of his cheeks in response to Martin's reprimanding. The sensation feeling both strange, and deeply uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of for the first time in many years. But it is Korbin himself that bows his head; concealing his more pained expression underneath layers of messy hair.

It was not as though Martin was speaking untruly, because he knew well that he botched his means of trying to soften the blow of Assassination to Erinil in so many ways, yet to hear his brother’s genuine displeasure over his actions...

Korbin did not realize that it could sting so deeply.

As silence falls between the darker of the siblings for an almost awkward moment, Martin chooses to use it to his advantage to begin to smooth over the cracks of the uncomfortable air that had been left in the aftermath of Korbin and Lucien's dreadful wake, as well as the sudden sight of his scolding. He turns slightly, and then moves to place a hand atop the crown of Erinil's head with a far kinder smile resting over his lips.

"Well now, little one," He says in a gentle tone as he extends his free hand to the boy. "Now that they have been properly put in their place, why don't you come with me for a moment, and I shall do my best to explain in as great of detail as I can muster how you can most certainly keep the new position of guarding this home that my brother has bestowed to you, but without"—Martin pauses, and then looks over to where Lucien now sits awkwardly alongside Korbin in the grass—"any of Lachance's needless brutality."

Erinil giggles under Martin's touch and shakes his head to force his hand out of his blond curls. "All right, Mr. Martin, sir!" He says through a squeal; the sparkle in his eyes, and the familiar innocence starting to return as he intertwines his fingers with Martin's. "Lead the way, as I'm right behind you! And not only me, but my special blade as well! The blade that will not be used to write messages, hurt people that don't deserve it, or anything of that awful, and terrible sort, I assure you!"

"Wonderful to hear!" Martin cries happily, watching with a chuckle as Erinil swings their arms together while walking side by side. "Now then, let me see... where shall I begin?"

*~*~*

As the golden hue of a setting sun slowly begins to slip past the numerous rows of autumn touched trees that rest upon distant hilltops surrounding the outskirts of the city of Cheydinhal, and brings about the fading light of an evening spent before the cool, welcoming shadows of night rushes forward to more properly take its place, Martin and Erinil find themselves within the multicolored grass that adorns the yard surrounding the Abandoned House.

They sit with their backs to the cobblestone well, discussing matters of the young Bosmer boy's newly appointed, and incredibly grownup job in a far more relaxed, and restrained matter. All the while allowing themselves to grasp onto the feeling of peace, and quiet, now that both Lucien and Korbin had chosen – with only a single warning glare to serve as the deciding factor compared to the many heated words that had come before – to grant them privacy, and retreated into the interior of the home for the time being.

When Martin finally reaches the conclusion of his explanation, and without any need to go into the gruesome details of bloodshed and death, he reaches to touch the top of Erinil's head once more with a content smile spreading over his gentle features.

"Now, I realize everything that I have just shared with you was incredibly vast, and perhaps even overwhelming at first, but you did a remarkable job remaining still, and listening to every word I spoke with rapt attention, and I am quite proud of you because of it!" He praises the boy with a gentle pat over his curly blond locks in emphasis to his words. "Did any of it assist in helping you better understand what it is that you need to do whilst guarding the household, why such a task is so incredibly important, and why it was that Korbin and Lachance wished for you to carry the dagger upon your person at all times?"

Erinil nods his head, as he absentmindedly runs his fingers over blades of grass. "Y-Yes, I... I think I do now, Mr. Martin," He says, and then looks up with a faint smile all his own. "They... gave me this job because they need someone to not only take care of the house, but also the pretty door in the basement, and the well we're leaning up against while we continue talking."

"Yes, that's correct. And do you know the reason why they need someone to protect these things?"

"Hmmhm! I do!" Erinil states proudly, then he breathes in and begins speaking in as serious of a voice as he can muster. "Because what all these places lead to is a very special location where the Grand Champion, Mr. Lachance, as well as all the other members of their family work together to get rid of all the very bad, nasty people in the world. But it's also where they gather when their work is finally done. So, they really don't want anyone who doesn't belong to suddenly come into their home out of nowhere, or without knocking, because that would make family gatherings – like suppertime, sleep time, and quiet time – so much more awkward and uncomfortable because of the unwanted guests."

Martin chuckles warmly at Erinil’s rather wonderful, yet incredibly naive view of what it is his dear companions actively indulge in time and again. The boy was both quite correct in what it is he describes – despite it being overwhelmed with an air of innocence that he hopes that he shall never grow out of – and very wrong at the same time. And while he is uncertain if there shall ever come a day where he will be openly supportive of Lucien and Korbin’s grisly profession... they are still the ones who saved his life in the flames of Kvatch, who gave him a reason to go on when all hope had faded in his life, and who he lovingly views as his adoptive siblings.

And from that, he still encourages Erinil to continue describing what it is that he had managed to learn throughout their long discussion. "Yes, perfectly right," He says with a nod of his own. "And what is the final thing I helped you to understand?"

"Oh yes! It is about the gift the Grand Champion gave to me, and what it is that I have to do with it!" Erinil leans to the side, past the grass, and carefully gathers the enchanted blade into his palms, before turning and showing Martin with a pleased smile. "Oh rather, what not to do! Because, no matter what it is the Grand Champion, and Mr. Lachance tried instructing me about with their very scary words, that almost made me want to throw my special gift down the special well, I don't actually have to hurt anyone to keep myself safe, right?"

"You are indeed right," Martin clarifies. "But what is it you do if someone comes upon you that you do not recognize, nor trust?"

Erinil takes the blade by the hilt and holds it in front of him. "All I have to do is hold it like a proper weapon – like what I'm doing here – show it to the person I don't really know, and then they would realize that I was a very important guard, as well as a very capable adult with a very adult job, and all that amazing knowledge, and the fact I was doing my job so well, would simply force them to run away with their tails between their legs in shock and awe!"

He giggles at his own words, and then places the dagger back into the grass. "Or, if that doesn't work... I just have to run into the pretty door, look for the Grand Champion, or Mr. Lachance, and they will end up taking care of things on my behalf!"

Martin claps his hands together. "Yes, that is precisely what you do!" He shouts in an overly pleased manner, as he mirrors Erinil’s smile. "Very well done! You’ve managed to successfully understand everything I have told you quite magnificently! Once again, I must say the pride that I feel for you is almost unending, little one!"

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Martin, sir! Thank you very much!" Erinil cries out, waving his arms back and forth in a show of genuine joy; but after a moment passes, he returns to sitting at Martin's side. "Really though... that's what I thought the Grand Champion, and Mr. Lachance wanted me to do from the very beginning... and while I really didn't have any issues with that, and I'm more than happy to do my job as best I can, I just..."

He turns to look at Martin with confusion flickering in his gaze. "I just don't understand why they didn't tell me that in the first place. Instead of saying all those scary words about plunging my special gift into someone's body, or writing messages stained with actual blood, and not some sort of special ink!"

Martin frowns and begins running a thumb over his knuckles. "Ah yes, well... you will have to try and forgive them for speaking to you in such a way," He tells the boy, his voice gentle and patient. "I do not think they intentionally wished to frighten you with their candidness... for I believe they truly thought that they were doing the right thing by using honeyed words to mask the truth – in Korbin's case – or choosing to be direct – in Lucien's. However, you were still frightened regardless, and it certainly goes to show that they still have much learn about proper etiquette when interacting with others, as well as understanding that not everyone grew up in the ways they did."

A short pause falls between them both as Martin attempts to help the boy understand, and he takes it as a means to continue.

"But, do not feel as though they simply signaled you out, my little friend!" He says with a playful half grin, as he turns the conversation to reassurance, rather than explanation "For you should know that they have done the very same thing to me once or twice – although their intentions were surely more childish than what they did with you here in Cheydinhal."

He sighs almost fondly. "Oh, I recall when I first met them so many months ago, that when the time came for us to make camp after leaving Kvatch, they truly went out of their way to torment me with so many gruesome details of what they did for a living! And not only that, but to also confirm various rumors I may have heard in passing regarding Assassins. Obviously, looking back now, I realize that they were doing nothing more than trying to get a rise out of me – especially Lachance who goaded Korbin into partaking in it along with him – but it still remained the cause of my nightmares for several—"

"—Hm, Mr... Martin, sir?" And then suddenly Erinil speaks once again; his voice quiet, and sheepish as it pulls Martin's attention from the past, and back into the present. "May I... may I ask you a question? If that's... hm, okay to do so?"

Martin leans in close, his smile still in place, and tender as ever. "Yes, of course you may, Erinil," He tells him. "You never have to ask permission to share whatever is on your mind. Is this the same question you attempted to ask of me before, that I never quite had a chance to answer properly? The one where you were curious as to why I do not live here in Cheydinhal with Korbin and Lucien?"

Erinil shakes his head. "No, no, it's not that one, sir," He replies with a faint giggle. "Although I still am very curious to know what you mean, exactly, when you say that it was only months ago when you first met your brothers. Because, I thought that brothers were supposed to be together, and at each other's sides no matter what. So, how is that you speak as though you only just met them?" He then claps his hands together as a thought comes to mind. "Unless, of course, you actually lost them at some point, and they've only just came back into your life again for the first time"—he lowers his hands to his lap—"but even if that is the reason, I’m afraid that it’s still very confusing to me!"

"Yes, ah, well, you see...." Martin stammers, intentionally allowing his words to trail off in a means of diverting Erinil's attention elsewhere. Not at all wanting to confuse the boy further, or tear down whatever concept he held of him and his chosen siblings being genuinely blood related. "Was... was there not another question you were rather eager to ask? You said that was not the one you had in mind, despite you still being curious over it, so what was it you actually wished to know?"

"Oh!" Erinil suddenly ceases his rambling and turns back towards Martin with an embarrassed blush spreading quickly over his freckled cheeks. "Oh dear! Oh, dear me, you are right, sir! In fact, you are very right! I'm so sorry, I seemed to have gotten sidetracked somehow!"

"No, it's quite all right; but I am rather curious about your other question."

"And I am very pleased to share it, as well as get my answer, but..." Erinil looks down; twiddling his thumbs for a moment as his voice quiets to a whisper. "But... you'll – you'll have to promise that you won't get mad at me when I go into the details, okay?"

Martin's eyes soften. "You have my word, little one."

"All right, well... it was when we were all on the road together in the nice, big wagon that the Grand Champion bought with the coin he won in the Arena," Erinil begins to explain. "I was in the back of the wagon, about to take a very nice nap... when I suddenly heard you and one of your brother's talking to each other. And I... " He bows his head almost shamefully. "And I know that I shouldn't have – I shouldn't have listened in to the conversation, because I know it was very private, and it's rude to eavesdrop without permission, but..."

Erinil sighs, and then leans back against the well more heavily. "I heard Mr. Lachance calling you 'Septim' again. He calls you that name a lot, even more than your actual name, Mr. Martin."

Martin lightly scoffs. "Ah, that he does, Erinil. That he does, indeed."

"But then I started wondering why he calls you that, and then I remembered that the name Septim is the name the Emperors have...or, hm, had, at least in regard to our last Emperor that sadly died," Erinil continues on with a frown, and a crinkled nose. "So, if Mr. Lachance calls you that, and calls you that a lot, does that... does that mean that you're a Septim? And that you're going to... you're going to become our new Emperor after everything is finally done? The Emperor of all of Cyrodiill itself?"

"That is indeed the end goal to all of our plans, Divines above be willing and understanding to them," Martin responds as he steals a glance upwards into the clouds; after a moment, and a silent prayer, he turns his focus back on the boy. "At the moment, we have our gazes set upon a quiet little priory that rests on the outskirts of the city of Chorrol. There, we shall meet with a man named named Jauffre that shall, hopefully, make sense of everything I have been told in such a short amount of time. That, of which, involves the concept of me being the son of the late Emperor, and what it is that I must do to assist with the current state of things in every corner of the province."

Erinil’s frown deepens as he stares down at his feet. "...That sounds... very complicated, and rather frightening to have to deal with so suddenly, sir."

"It certainly is, my friend," Martin nods in agreement. "And that is not even going into the finer details of the complications that have arisen whilst on our journey. In fact, we were actually on our way to this very Priory when we ran afoul of some rather sour luck, prompting us to stop in the Imperial City."

"Oh! Oh dear, oh dear! And then you met me and had to go out of your way to transport me to Bravil, and then over to here when the transporting didn’t work!" Erinil places the palms of his hands underneath his cheeks. "I am so very sorry, Mr. Martin Septim, sir! I did not mean to distract you from your journey, or your mission, or whatever it is called when you are trying very hard to become the new Emperor!"

Martin waves a gentle hand. "Erinil, Erinil! Easy now!" He calls out, hoping to gain his attention; and when he finally does at last, he softens his voice. "It's quite all right, little one. It's far more than all right, actually. Because meeting you, and then coming here together? It was a rather welcomed distraction, and a fantastic way to ease the stress from mine, as well as my brother's shoulders for a time."

Erinil pauses, realizing what the soon-to-be Emperor of all of Cyrodiil is telling him, and slowly smiles with a familiar twinkle in his eyes. "O-Oh...well, as long as I was helping, and not harming, sir!" But just as soon as Erinil's natural innocence returns to his joyful words, as well as his boyish features, another extended silence then falls over them.

It is sudden, and out of nowhere, and Martin worries if his younger friend is concerned with something else he may have heard during their shared journey together. Something he, himself, may have said, or something his brothers may have done without realizing whose presence they were actually in. He goes to open his mouth, to question him over that very thing, when Erinil's voice breaks through the silence once again.

"...A-Act...Actually sir, while on the same subject, is it... okay if I ask you another question?" He wonders both curiously, and cautiously. "And it's... perfectly all right if you tell me no, because I know the question, and what it entails will be asking a lot, so – so I won't be upset if that’s what you say!"

Martin chuckles warmly and touches his hand to Erinil's own. "Ask whatever it is that you wish, my dear friend," He squeezes the boy's hand in reassurance. "Remember what I told you? You never have to ask permission to share whatever is on your mind at any given time. For I am always much more than content to listen to anything and everything you may have to say, ask, or otherwise."

"Even if you are going to be the Emperor?"

Martin's laughter turns much fonder. "Even if I am going to be the Emperor," He tells him simply. "Now, what did you wish to ask?"

Erinil breathes in, sitting up straighter, and hoping to look as grownup as possible. "Well, I was just... I was just wondering if... when you do finally become our new, and very special Emperor, after you and your brothers save the province from all these Gates I keep hearing about, and fight back against all of the bad, scary things that are out there..." His words trail, and then his voice slips into a whisper; as though he is afraid to say the words aloud in fear of being rejected. "Would it... be okay if I came to your very special, very wonderful coronation? So that I can see you become Emperor with my very own eyes?"

A tender smile touches Martin's lips upon beholding the young boy's genuine, almost endless innocence once more. He had seen it so many times before and is more than certain he will it see many times again, but now... it seemed as though it nearly radiated an all too welcoming serenity within such a simple, harmless question.

"Well, now, you should know that is still quite a long way away, as I have not even laid my hands upon the Amulet of Kings itself, or allowed anyone other than you, or Lachance to know of my apparent heritage," He clarifies gently, and then rests a hand upon his chest as he explains in further detail. "However, that is not to say I am refusing what you are asking. In truth, it is quite the opposite, as I would be so much more than honored if you did come and witness my coronation."

He lowers his hand from his chest with the other and intertwines his fingers together in front of him as his voice flows with continual joy as he remains within Erinil’s presence. "So, yes – to answer your question – yes, my dear little friend, of course you may be there if you so wish it! I would surely love nothing more!"

Erinil's ears droop with faint disappointment. "Aww, well, that's okay, Mr. Martin Septim, sir! As I said, it was perfectly all right if you told me no, as I was certainly asking a lot, so it isn’t as though I’m..." And then his words suddenly trail off into nothingness, rendering his sentence incomplete as he finally listens, and comes to realize what it is that Martin is actually saying. And when he does, his eyes widen considerably, and shine with the twinkling light of a thousand stars all at once. "W-Wait... wait! Wait just a moment now, Mr. Martin Septim, sir! I'm... I'm not sure if I heard correctly, and I am sure I may have this so very wrong, but, but, but... did you just... did you just say that it... that it was all right?!"

Martin laughs in good humor to the boy's brief confusion. "I did indeed, Erinil!" He says as his smile widens. "It's perfectly all right, and I would surely enjoy your presence at such an event. Would you like that, little one? To be among the crowds and – as you said – witness me becoming the newly appointed Emperor with your very own eyes?"

Erinil quickly leaps to his feet and begins to flap his arms up and down as a new wave of happiness, and absolute excitement overtakes him.

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes, sir! I would, sir! Oh, how I would! By Azura, it would be the most amazing, most incredible thing that I have ever—!" He stops midway through his delighted rambling once more, realizing all too suddenly that he was now in the process of screaming, and dancing around the soon-to-be-Emperor of all of Cyrodiil, and quickly brings his arms back down to his sides; a more composed smile doing its part to show everything that he was feeling, and more. "I-I mean... I would very, very much enjoy being a guest of such a wondrous event like that, sir. It would be the highest of honors that you could possibly grant me."

"Then consider it absolutely done, dear Erinil. However," Martin begins in the same kind tone as before; holding out a hand to gesture with as he speaks. "There is no need to conceal your excitement from my eyes. I may indeed be Emperor one day, but I would still cherish the sight of my beloved companions sharing their happiness, and joy in whatever ways they deem most appropriate. Such as you do with the many numerous dances you have shown me these last several days, along with every new laugh, every new song, as well as the endearing spinning, and the adorable flapping."

"Wait, are you saying that I'm... that I'm a beloved companion to you, Mr. Martin Septim, sir?"

Martin reaches out and cups the palm of his hand against Erinil's cheek. "But of course, you are, little one. Was there ever any doubt?"

"There was just a little bit. At least at first," Erinil admits with a faint blush over the same cheeks Martin is gently touching. "But you have managed to make it fade away in the most wonderful way possible, sir! And replaced with so many other, equally as amazing, emotions in its place!"

"Well now, I am so very thankful to hear—"

And then suddenly Martin feels small arms come to wrap tightly around him with the strength of a man twice Erinil's size, and he merely closes his eyes as he returns the embrace just as fervently. He rests one hand against the small of the boy's back, while the other ruffles the top of his golden curls once again. He hears Erinil giggle from the touch, and he cannot help but mimic the contagious laughter just as well. A moment passes, Erinil squeezes Martin one final time, and then suddenly he is pulling away with the brightest expression that Martin has seen on the boy's face since they first met in front of the Arena.

"Thank you, sir," Erinil says genuinely, as he reaches to wipe at his green eyes, where overwhelmed tears had gathered. "Thank you so much. You are truly amazing, Mr. Martin Septim, sir."

Sighing softly, Martin holds up a hand with a half-smile. "Just Mr. Martin is fine for now, as I shall remain simply Martin for quite some time before the titles of royalty shall fall upon my shoulders," He explains, and then chuckles. "But you're welcome, little one. You are so very welcome."

Erinil pulls himself up to his feet, spins in a full circle, and then proceeds to half sprint, half stumble his way through the grassy yard, and up towards the front of the Abandoned Home.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my! Just wait until the Grand Champion, and Mr. Lachance learn of this amazing, and incredible thing!" He cries out, cheerfully dancing on his feet as he opens the main door to the house, and rushes inside. "They're going to be so incredibly excited! I just know it! Because I'm going to be there with them that night! In the crowds with all the rest of the amazing, incredible people that helped Mr. Martin get to where he is going to be! And I'll be cheering the entire time when he is finally dubbed Emperor! By Azura, by Azura, by Azura! This is truly one of the best days of my entire life!"

And as Erinil continues shouting in glee over just how wonderful the future coronation shall be, and how jealous his own brother will end up becoming once he learns of him not only meeting the Grand Champion of the Arena, but also having a grownup job of his very own, and becoming one of the beloved companions of the future Emperor himself... Martin simply shakes his head with an amused smile.

Rising to his full height, he steps away from the well that adorns the corner of the Abandoned House, and proceeds to make his way back to the main gates to await his chosen sibling's return. He could already imagine what would surely transpire in the instant that Erinil would stumble upon them through the supposed Black Door and proceed to explain in grand detail everything that had taken place once they vanished into the shadows of the home.

Korbin perfectly mirroring the boy's excitement with a fragment of his very own – scooping him up into his arms, as he was accustomed to often doing whenever he was overjoyed – spinning him around, and possibly even granting to him a personalized title to show that he would be a part of their Dark Family from then on, all the while Lucien became utterly enraged over the fact that the boy was going to be 'stuck' with them for far longer than he first assumed.

Oh, how he wishes he could see such a thing. That he could walk into the Abandoned House just as easily as Erinil had and be just as welcomed with open arms as his brothers were so accustomed to being greeted upon return. To not only see Korbin's innocence over everything that happened since they left the Imperial City, as well as the countless new grey hairs Lucien would surely spout over the same exact thing. But those types of thoughts, those rather whimsical desires which dared to linger within his mind when he was left alone to himself... they were nothing more than sheer foolishness born from exceedingly complicated feelings that he so dearly wished he could free himself from.

After all, he did not belong in such places, nor would there ever truly come a time in which he would. He knew it easily, almost too easily, and yet... still he questioned why he continued to mull over the very same questions that regularly brought forth a familiar rush of pain to his chest whenever he did. Why he wished that he could follow the boy inside without second guessing himself, come and stand at his brother's sides without feeling as though he was entirely out of place, and finally, at last, know that he was indeed welcome in their world.

As though he was always meant to be beside them, despite what he may have felt for their profession, or way of life. And while there was surely some hint of kinship among them, among him and Korbin... he knew it was so much more than lacking when it came to himself and Lachance. The connection between them hardly existed, if it even existed at all. He could see it in Lucien’s eyes, in the way that he openly mocked him, the way he spoke of how he was a Priest of Akatosh, and reminded him – whenever he possibly could – that he was far too much of a good, kindhearted man.

It did not matter what his thoughts may have been, or what he felt towards the one that stood in his shadow. In the end, he knew that he did not truly fit, and perhaps – at least as far as Lucien was concerned – never actually would. Thus, it was far better to cast aside such thoughts, before they were about to cause further heart—

"...Martin? Are you still out here?" A voice then calls from over his shoulder, and Martin stills his step – as well as his thoughts. A look of confusion flashes in his eyes, as well as the faintest of hope that begins to warm over his chest in place of the pain, and he instantly turns around to address whom it was that had called his name. When he sees that it is actually Korbin, he plasters on an almost genuine smile, and struggles to bury the remainder of his nonsensical feelings over prior thoughts.

"...Yes, Korbin?" He asks; hoping his emotional tells were not obvious to his brother's gaze. "Is something the matter?"

Korbin chuckles, and leans further out of the opened door of the Abandoned House. "Well yes! Something is indeed the matter, brother!" He cries, and then points a finger at Martin. "And it's all because of the fact that you're still out here, when you shouldn't be!"

Martin raises an eyebrow in response; confusion quickly overtaking him, and then nearly tripling at Korbin's words.

"...Why do you look so confused?" Korbin questions, and then runs an awkward hand over the back of his neck. "Oh... right, I didn't actually phrase that correctly, did I? It came out more of a joke, than an actual explanation. Well, uh, all right...it's like this, okay?" He says, and then leans partially against the door as he does his best to help Martin understand. "Erinil came sprinting inside, shouting happily over one thing, then another, and then another... and then you didn't come in behind him, which made Lachance and myself begin to get rather concerned. So concerned, in fact, that Lucien basically shoved me out of the Black Door, and demanded I come and see what was taking you so long, and why you didn't follow Erinil in!"

Martin’s eyes widen. "W-Wait... wait, what...?" He stammers at the height of his confusion. Lowering his head head, he attempts to make sense of what he is hearing, and yet finds no such answer to every new question that swims far too freely within his own mind. "Are you saying that you... that you want me to come inside with you all?"

"Yeah, of course we do, Martin!" Korbin exclaims cheerfully. "Erinil is going to be introduced to the rest of the family tonight, so they might bestow to him the proper title of house-and-well-guardsman, and probably get embraced all the way to the Void itself by the kid in the process, so we thought... well, this would be a great opportunity to introduce you to the other members of the family as well!" He shrugs his shoulders, all the while gesturing with his hands. "After all, we've had such an incredible journey from the Imperial City, to Bravil, and then to here, and so on, and so on... so, Lucien suggested that we should probably stay here for a few days to replenish ourselves in rest, food, and supplies before we get back on the road towards Chorrol. I mean, when you think about it, it only makes sense, right?"

Martin continues standing perfectly in place in the middle of the cobblestone road. Showing no outward signs that he had actually heard anything Korbin had said to him after he asked his quite bizarre question over whether or not they truly wished for him to come inside the house with them after all. He stares, unblinking down at his feet as his vision blurs, and he fights the urge to look up and accuse his younger brother for daring to play with his – already incredibly fragile – emotions in such a way. But he knows that Korbin would never do that. He would never do anything to intentionally harm him, especially not something like this, and to know that it was Lucien, of all people, that sent him out here, sent him to find him...

In the end, he simply continues to stand there, still as a statue, and soon Korbin grows tired of the uncomfortable silence.

"Uh, Martin? Dear Brother? Are you... are you all right?" Korbin asks; eyes filling with concern. "You're being incredibly quiet, and for you that's... well, that's a very strange sight. Unless, of course, I'm beginning to rub off on you, and it won't be long until you take the title of Silencer from me! But then I would have to tackle you down to the ground, and—" He then huffs, realizing that his rambling was not working as it should, and places both hands upon his hips. "Honestly now, Martin! Are you intentionally not listening to me, or what!?"

Martin snaps back to attention upon hearing Korbin's sudden shouting. "Wh-What?! I... I, uh... I'm—" He clears his throat, and smiles; unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. "F-For...Forgive me, Korbin, I was... preoccupied for a moment. What were you saying?"

"I was saying that you were being too quiet," Korbin blows the bangs from his forehead as he exhales a flustered breath. "But, if you're actually listening to me now, then you should probably know that Lucien is waiting impatiently for you inside."

"He... he is? For... me? Are you quite certain about this, Korbin?" Martin asks as his confusion returns and seeks to overwhelm him once again. "Because while I do not doubt your words by any means, I am unsure as to why he would wish to wait for my presence, exactly..."

The sight of Martin’s stammering causes Korbin to begin chuckling. "Yes, of course I'm certain, Martin!" He tells him, waving a dismissive hand as he attempts to find his composure amid his growing laughter. "And well, it’s not as though I actually got a straight answer – since he is, of course, Lucien through and through – but considering he all but shoved me out here to find you, and he's oddly eager to show you the Black Door for some strange reason... most likely to give you more nightmares as he did during that first camping trip of ours? I really don't think it's all that wise to keep him waiting much longer."

Stilling himself, he turns back towards Martin, and holds out the same hand with a large smile. "So, are you coming, brother?"

Martin pauses once more, looking down at the hand Korbin extends to him in a show of kindness, and slowly comes to the realization – at long last – what it was his dear brother was telling him not only through his playful, yet heartfelt words, but through his oh-so innocent actions just as well, and he simply cannot keep the smile from his lips when he does. What a fool he had been. What an absolute fool. Perhaps he entangled within the suffocating web of overthinking, perhaps his thoughts were merely blinding him from the obvious, undeniable truth, perhaps... he was simply worried for nothing.

And now he was being offered a chance to be accepted, even for a single evening, and he quickly takes it in his grip. If Korbin finally notices his overwhelming emotions that stumble awkwardly in his expression, if Korbin sees that something is considerably different, that something had surely changed since the last time they spoke... he was all too thankful that Korbin chose to remain respectfully silent on the subject, and did not desire bringing such questions to the surface to pull apart the reasoning in much greater detail.

Intertwining their fingers together, he looks up at Korbin, and a gentle light shines anew in his eyes as he matches Korbin’s playful smile with one of his own in turn.

"I'm right behind you, brother," He says, and the title sounds so sweet upon his lips for the second time since they first met in Kvatch. "Lead the way to this Black Door, so that I might finally know just what it is that makes it so incredibly special."

"Of course! I’m very happy to do so, Martin! Follow me!"

And as the soothing comforts of night comes to blanket the city of Cheydinhal in an all too familiar darkness at long last, and the gentle nothingness of sweet silence comes to sing it's haunting melody against the winds, and dance over the cobblestone paths to an unknowing audience, two brothers of choice – one of darkness, and one of light – slowly walk into the depths of shadow's tender embrace hand held tightly within hand.

[salvosfinest]

Stardust to Stardust - Ch. 4

Some say your fate is written in the stars.

The stars came to Darius in his dreams, illuminating an endless sea that he floated in. An indeterminate amount of time passed, and he was pulled under—

Gasping, he sat up straight, palms pressed into the bed. Right. He was still home. He had remembered laying down after his talk with Siebren. After they held hands and spoke a bit more openly about their friendship.

He turned his head some. Five thirty. Ugh. He coaxed himself out of bed, stretching up and popping his back with a grunt. He could skip his morning workout, but his arm was unbearably stiff. Walking to his shower, he ran the warm water and sat on his toilet, rubbing at his mechanical bicep. Better. The water would make it much better.

Undressing and stepping in, he finally relaxed. It was almost cleansing in and out how it washed over him. It wasn't long before he was out and finally cleaned up - aside from the beard that threatened to creep up his cheeks. That could wait. He could pass it off easily if anyone asked. Trying to grow it out.

His walk to the main base was serene and quiet, the cooks in the mess wisely not giving him grief over taking two plates. They knew about his unique patient.

The lower lights were turned on in his lab, which acted as half of his apartment and half of a workshop. It had a small area dedicated to the coffee and snack corner - complimented by a table and chair. The plates were sat down and he found himself still for a second. Should he knock? Siebren was usually up before him.

Yes. He should knock.

The two knocks were met with a faint noise, so he felt comfortable opening the door some. "I brought breakfast. How do you like your coffee?" The silence after worried Darius, poking his head in fully. Siebren was sprawled out, one leg hanging off the bed, arms tucked under his head, which was faced away from the door. Ha. Cute.

"Siebren." He finally stepped inside, navigating with some difficulty due to the gravity fluctuations around the sleeping man. That caused another noise, Siebren's thin frame stirring some. How long had he been without his blanket? Did Darius have to velcro it to the bed?

"Siiieeebreeennn," he sang softly, both hands shaking the man lightly by his shoulders. That caused him to snort, head turning towards Darius with a very visibly grumpy expression on his face. "I was having a good dream," his tired voice was practically a growl, then he sat up to stretch - and Darius immediately averted his gaze, warmth rising to his cheeks. Then he was shook some, causing a rather unmasculine squeak to come from him. He was so unused to being touched!

"I smell breakfast. I'll get coffee ready." Darius was stunned into silence, blinking in the absence of the man - the man that towered over him even while touching the ground! And he wasn't a small man either! "R-Right-" He shuffled out, moving to his workshop area to pull up a few things; an implant that he added during surgery would monitor a variety of things, including things like heartrate and cortisol levels. He was remarkably unstressed, barring the spike where Darius tried to do bloodwork. That was a fantastic sign.

"Are those, mine?" Siebren was close enough to recognize his name even if it was backwards - which was on Darius, but he was going to discuss it one day. May as well be now. "They are. I want to ensure you're healthy, so there's a small chip right here," he pressed against the base of his own skull, "that feeds me data. You're doing fine now, but," he gestured to the small spike in heartrate as the feed updated, "I don't need this to tell me when you're anxious."

"I am not anxious. I'm... happy. You are far more talkative when it comes to your work. It's exciting." The last two words were whispered, which caused a flush to come to his cheeks. Why was Siebren so fascinated? "I know very little about your line of work—"

"And I only know the astro part of astrophysicist." Darius laughed, then he waved a hand. "Eat! You're not eating if you're talking." He sat at his desk to work on something else - a disassembled arm sat in pieces, and he was doing his best to put it back together. Considering it was his...

He caught the skeptical expression on Siebren's face from across the room, then it was hidden as he worked on brewing coffee. He had come to be familiar with Darius's lab layout, so it's unsurprising how at ease he was. It warmed his heart, as people were usually eager to leave his lab. Most "below" him were terrified due to rumors.

Siebren was a fresh start. To make a real friend. Not just brood with Reaper. An opportunity to learn. Debating with himself, Darius got to his feet and slipped behind the eating scientist, noticing his confusion before he was wrapped in Darius's arms loosely. A hand was placed over where his arms met, then his forearm was patted. "Let me finish eating. I may have stayed up too late."

Laughing, Darius finally pulled away to pour himself a cup of coffee, smiling to himself.

He could get used to this friendship.

[antiracistkaren]

Post Hysterectomy Thoughts

CW/TW: Mentions of eating disorder, surgery, suicide, sexual assault/rape of trans people

I am at home with my family--meaning, I can hear every cry my girls make, every short answer from Jon, and every minute that goes by that I'm not studying. I feel it all.

I was at Dylan's this weekend for the first couple of days. I just went into a room and really didn't come out except to use the bathroom and have small talk when I was too restless to stay upstairs. I ate Oreos whenever I wanted and eggs scrambled up by Dylan in the mornings. I had one cup of coffee while I was there.

I watched all of The Crown, and have that fullness of feeling caught up on something. I finished Becoming right before my surgery, which has also extinguished my desire to read in general. It was my "easy" read, while The People's History of the United States is dense and must be read slowly. It's hard to speed read through history. It takes time to digest. And then there's This Little Light of Mine about Fannie Lou Hammer. Another dense biography with close writing and thick pages. I know the outcome of this one is not nearly as bright as Mrs. Obama's, so I am loathe to really get into it. However, I know that once I get going, I am able to polish off books rather quickly. It just takes me time to reach the halfway point--which is usually where I start to get invested in the rest of the book. I always have to fight to get to that "halfway" mark, where I bend the book and it no longer wants to snap shut on my hands, but falls beautifully open, having been appropriately used and doted on enough to break the spine.

So I just let my eyes enjoy some historical fiction. The quiet dialogue of The Crown would help me drift off the sleep when I became tired from my medication, and would be there when I woke with gentle British accents and sweet "arguments" occurring on screen.

It's hard watching Diana's eating disorder. It is not something that I personally struggle with--bulimia, but I do strictly control what I eat and when. You can always tell when I am super stressed out because I simply stop eating because I am too nervous or overwhelmed. The times when I have dropped weight suddenly are times in my life when I was at my worst, emotionally and relationally.

So I understand the Bulimia, the desire to have control at least, over what goes in and out your body. Especially when you have no control over how your mind feels, how your emotions are responded to, and even your every day movements are stilled and controlled. Post-surgery is a box, but it is one I do not mind inhabiting at the moment, because I know that once I emerge from this particular box, I will be free of cyclical pain and will be free to live as a man does: without concern or thought to when my period is coming and when I will be in pain.

Although it may sound small to most people... or to men especially, it is hard to describe the depth of thought and concern one's period brings. You hear about it a lot as a kid growing toward puberty, and then comparing severity among your peers becomes normal. Women talk about their periods to each other all the time: ways to avoid it, to skip it, to make it lighter, shorter, less painful. We use all of the strategies and tricks to attempt to act "normally" like a man does while we are mercilessly bleeding from a major organ.

It's really strange: how we treat women and their periods. Something that afflicts over half of the population on a roughly a monthly basis, and we're not even allowed to discuss it.

I want to talk about something that happened the day before my surgery, which still has me stewing and fuming a bit, and that was a Pregnancy Test.

I have not been sexually active with Jon in a way that would produce a baby since June. June, y'all. I know my life and I know my marriage, and we are hanging on by a thread, but I know this fact: I am not pregnant. I have gotten my period, often and heavily.

However, thanks to Texas state law, prior to my hysterectomy I had to prove that I'm not pregnant.

Basically, the law prevented me from "lying." And I can't help but think about... well, "what if?"

What if, after having three children and taking every single precaution I could, I was pregnant? It means I would either have to cross state lines to get an abortion and then have a hysterectomy, or carry that unwanted baby to term, furthering the pain and trauma on my body.

My body has been through enough at this point, y'all. That's what I was in the office to get this organ removed. Pregnancy is literally toxic to my body. Getting rid of my uterus was the last recourse I had, since birth control makes me suicidal and absolutely bonkers prior to my period. I'm not talking about PMS, I'm talking heavy mood swings that put me into suicidally sad places. I'm talking fits of rage that felt like explosions from my body. In short, birth control really aggravates by ability to manage my emotions at all levels. Which means, as an autistic woman that struggles to manage emotions anyway, I was absolutely psychopathic. I would come out from the fog and look backwards and see how irrational I was, how irritated I was. I found myself apologizing every few weeks for having huge breakdowns emotionally, physically around ovulation and then again around my period.

So I am telling the nurse that there is no way that I can be pregnant, and I'm mostly shrugging this off, but it really bothers me when I get to the paperwork: I must either consent to have this test, or risk not having the surgery if I won't take it. Classic catch-22: submit in order to get the thing I need to have a better quality of life, or stand up for my rights as a woman and risk being denied this surgery.

So I submitted, with great resentment. I stood up after my blood draws and asked if I needed to pee on a stick, and that I could leave a sample. The nurse informed me that no, they would run a blood test.

A blood test. Something far more accurate, detailed, and expensive. I am lucky enough to have hit my deductible, and so I will not personally pay for this bloodwork and this pregnancy test, but if I didn't have health insurance, I would have been required to do something because of my gender, and then been required to pay for it myself.

That's fucked up, y'all. Never mind that I was taking birth control. Never mind that my husband and I are basically abstinent right now. Never mind that I have three children already and if I don't want to have another one, that should be my RIGHT as a human being, I was required to take a test AND pay for it at the same time.

Smacked by two laws: one in which I do not have the right to free healthcare and pregnancy tests, and one in which I do not have the right to evacuate a toxic organ if it happens to house a mass of cells (because I just had my period, there's literally... no way that it could have been more than a mass of cells that that point), because my husband happened to catch an egg right before my procedure?

I was heartsick thinking about it. The amount of women who may try their best to get away from an endless cycle of pain or pregnancy being turned away because they caught an egg this month. Pregnancy is like being in prison for some of us. It is toxic to my body: I would get gestational diabetes without fail. That's my body telling me something: This isn't healthy for you. And yet I did it three times.

And I don't get to say when it's over without taking a test? Without proving to the medical community, to law-makers, that I am not pregnant?

What is the reasoning here? Do we somehow believe that women will, knowingly pregnant, go in for a hysterectomy? Really?

It's three days later, I still cannot get over it. I also think about Trans people, who want to have their uterus removed and are denied if they are under 30. That leaves Trans people open for getting pregnant via rape: trans people are far more likely to be sexually assaulted and raped (Source). If we refuse to allow trans people to remove their own uteruses when they deem fit, we are damning them to having to take hormones to suppress ovulation, or other chemicals that will fundamentally alter their mental state for the worse.

This isn't about oh poor suburban me--I am LUCKY I can do this. Luckily, I'm not pregnant. Luckily, we have paid out of pocket all damn year and got this surgery for free. It makes me angry that I have to feel like this is a damn gift that I got--this major abdominal surgery is a privilege that many do not have, simply because they are not a white, suburban mother whose husband has decent (not great!) healthcare through his employer.

I'm thinking about all of the women under 30 with endometriosis, cysts on their ovaries, and other conditions that make having this monthly cycle a NIGHTMARE. I'm thinking about trans people who want desperately to evacuate an organ that does not feel like part of their bodies. I'm thinking about homeless women who want to be rid of their pain on a monthly basis, who are just trying to survive and who have to make money just to be a part of society, to have money to buy sanitary supplies.

We are treating people with uteruses in this country as criminals if they want to alter their bodies. We have brought a Christian, white supremacist, doctrine into the patient/doctor relationship, and it is humiliating to women, especially those AFAB, and those women of color who cannot get access to this surgery at all.

It IS a gift, but I wish it weren't. I wish that women could take comfort in knowing that when they feel "done" with having children, they can choose to be done. Whenever they want. Empower women to take control over their own bodies and reproductive lives. You don't need to imprison us to make children--many of us want to, and will suffer in order to have children. But it shouldn't be forced on anyone simply because they have a uterus.

[fox-bright]

I'm immunodeficient, have a degenerative circulatory disorder, and am in recovery from brain damage. I've also got--secondary to the circulatory disorder, we think--some Weirdness that makes me regularly faint; I can't drive a car, so am reliant on my partner, my friends, and public transit. The circulatory disorder is also, technically, a several-other-things disorder; it's degenerative and prevents adequate healing of things like fractures and sprains, which combined with the whole "regularly faints" thing means I'm riddled with old injuries and in pain pretty much all of the time. Most days it's not too bad to do things, but some days it's too bad to think.

My partner and I are discussing today whether or not it's all right to go to the Sam's Club for curbside pickup, since we haven't been grocery shopping since the sixth of November and we're running low on some staples at last. I have a bloodwork appointment in a few weeks that is making me very nervous. I haven't been to a kendo practice in 23 months, haven't indulged in my weekend Goodwill trip in 23 months other than once in the brief, beautiful month of June 2021 when I was fully vaxxed but the new variants hadn't made themselves known, haven't seen friends, haven't gone on trips, haven't done nearly any of the things that make up my normal life outside of this pandemic hellscape. I do not leave the house without the knowledge that doing so literally puts my life on the line, and it has been this way for 23 months.

Here's some what I've done, since all this bullshit started;

* Made a garden. Grown four hundred pounds of tomatoes and a positively ridiculous number of peppers, some delicious squash (there's a pumpkin still in my kitchen right now from last season)

* Learned how to make Korean buttercream; learned how to bake any number of things; baked, frosted, and decorated my own multi-tier wedding cake

* Made multiple quilts. Learned how to do paper-pieced quilting, which is difficult and amazing

* Learned a not-inconsiderable amount of Mandarin vocabulary

* Vastly improved my knowledge of pressure canning (as I type this there are a few more quarts of chili processing, which will be shelf-stable food for when I don't have the spoons to do anything but warm stuff up)

* Learned how to read a crochet pattern, and in January begun working through an incredibly beautiful blanket pattern; I'm a bit over halfway through making it today

* Learned how to make really good pizza from scratch.

* Learned how to make my own vinegar

* Designed, built, installed, hung doors on and painted a bed-nook-cabinet in a closet that my cat naps on every day now.

I learned how to do ALL OF THIS from endless hours of online time.

I've done a lot more on the internet in the last two years. I've read over a thousand research papers and a couple of hundred novels. Talked to friends, read many millions of words of fanfic, occasionally written fanfic, watched shows, listened to hundreds of hours of music, kept up with the news, played DnD, and yeah, spent a shit ton of time on Tumblr and Facebook and Instagram.

This is all stuff that appeals to me, in particular, and that I am capable of (on the good days) with the body I currently animate, within the constraints of my own personal financial and geographical situation. Everyone else gets to choose their own options within the constraints of their own. But there's NOBODY who can only doomscroll Tumblr all day long, with no ability to do literally anything else. Even on the days I can't get up, there's such an incredible wealth of knowledge online.

You and your followers are bullies you keep mocking disabled people and telling them to touch grass and chronically online. It’s ableist because disabled people have to be online all the time and it’s hard to leave the house so fuck you I hope someone close to you dies because you support bullying disabled people.

–

RSD anon?