Oswin Oswald & Brynjolf


Tinuviel Oakenheart & Cicero

It was midnight, and the inky blackness of the sky was brightened only by the crescent moon. Two assassins creep stealthily through the city, their keen eyes accustomed to the night. They move silently, so much more skilled than the other assassins here. The Dark Brotherhood of Skyrim is now led by the true assassins of Cyrodiil. The one in the lead is a Nord female who lived in Cyrodiil her whole life. She's 5'9 with a lean, athletic build and alabaster skin. She has long blonde hair, (not that you could see it under her cowl) crystal blue, almond shaped eyes and soft, angled features. She wears the armor of a Dark Brotherhood assassin of old, armor that she took from his grave.

The man who follows her is very different. He has auburn hair rather pale skin with intense amber eyes. He's 5'8 with a lean build and wears the clothes of a jester. The Nord carries a Daedric bow and an enchanted ebony dagger. The jester merely carries an ebony dagger, but he's extremely good with it.

They stalk the streets, not making a sound. Up ahead, a house sits upon the edge of the river. Their target is the mercenary that resides within. They have traveled from Falkreath all the way to Riften for this kill, and they intend to carry out the contract.

They approach the house, the shadows clinging to them like a second skin. When they get to the door, the Nord tries it and finds it unlocked. She glances at her companion who draws his dagger. They push the door open, and nearly gasp at what they see inside. The inside of the house has been ravaged, everything shiny or valuable missing.

"Thieves!" The Nord hisses to her companion. They progress slowly, until they hear a slight thump that only trained ears would have heard. Lucky for the assassins, everything about them was highly trained, they were perfect killers. The assassins creep into the next room and see two thieves scouring the place, looking for valuables. One is a Breton with dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin and hard but not unattractive features. She's short and lithe, obviously agile from the poise and elegance with which she moves. The other is a taller man with brown hair, tan skin and inquisitive eyes. He turns towards them, his Thieves Guild armor gleaming, much like hers.

"Lass, we have company." The Breton turns towards them, instantly in a crouch. She notes their passive stance and straightens, and she and her companion remove their hood.

"Brynjolf!" Cries the Nord, removing her own hood before tackling the man in a hug. Brynjolf's eyes widen and he laughs, hugging her back. The Nord's companion watches mutely, wincing at her enthusiastic hug. Brynjolf's companion scowls, but soon becomes distracted by a shiny object which she proceeds to pocket.

"Tinuviel! Never thought I'd see you again lass. What brings you here? And who's your friend?" He asks, eyeing her odd companion. Tinuviel steps back, standing beside the jester.

"We're with the Dark Brotherhood. This is my… accomplice, Cicero." Cicero bows deeply, laughing darkly. Brynjolf eyes Cicero wearily, but after an affirmative nod from Tinuviel he relaxes.

"My companion here is Oswin Oswald. She's the leader of the Thieves guild, and a Nightingale." Oswin walks back over, sizing up the odd pair. She notes that the blonde woman stands slightly in front of the Jester, suggesting that she is the leader of the two. Oswin smiles slightly and stands beside Brynjolf.

"Oh, my Mistress of Sithis is the Listener! She leads the Brotherhood with the Keeper, loyal Cicero, by her side!" Cicero proclaims. He does a little dance and Brynjolf's eyes widen a bit. Tinuviel touches his shoulder gently and he calms. She smiles at his antics and he returns the smile. He is once again laughing, though it is more quiet now.

"Accomplice, aye lass?" Brynjolf says. Cicero's childlike smile and laughter die suddenly, and he becomes serious. He looks towards the stairs and then back at Tinuviel, as if asking permission. She nods and he draws his dagger, disappearing into the shadows. They hear a cry echoing from the stairs, the mercenary heard them and had been coming down to check it out, until Cicero killed him. Cicero walks back, his dagger sheathed.

"I heard him coming down the stairs and had to protect the Listener. Losing one was enough, and this time more is at stake than just losing the Dark Brotherhood." His voice isn't childlike, but masculine and strong. Its strange coming from him, but oddly attractive. Oswin looks up suddenly, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Wait, wasn't he crazy a second ago or was I drinking too much before I got here? And what else is there to lose? Now you've got me curious!" She says, looking up from fiddling with a coin. She pockets it, looking expectantly at the fool. Cicero cocks his head to the side a bit, as if pondering the question. He refocuses on Oswin after glancing at Tinuviel.

"Cicero will not tell strangers, he is the Listeners' accomplice…" He trails off, sounding unhappy. He says the word "accomplice" frostily. Tinuviel's eyes soften at his obvious displeasure. She looks at Brynjolf, who arches a brow at her. Her eyes flick to Oswin and an unspoken conversation ensues between the two.

"My dearest friend Brynjolf, I must ask, has the woman beside you not captured your heart? Do not deny it; I can see it in your eyes. You have fallen for her." Oswin's pale cheeks turn pink and Brynjolf mutters something about "half-elf tricks." Despite her Nordic looks, Tinuviel was half High Elf on her mother's side.

"Yeah yeah, whatever. I asked first!" Oswin replies, a blush still coloring her cheeks. Tinuviel grins and Cicero looks a bit anxious. Oswin watches Cicero intently, still unsure about him. Brynjolf's eyes light up as Tinuviel's head twitches slightly in a nod only he caught. Her eyes move to Oswin, and then return to Brynjolf. He does a minuscule nod as well.

"Why don't we discuss this over a drink? Cicero and I will go find some ale; you two go find some food." Tinuviel says, grabbing Cicero's hand and dragging him off. Brynjolf sighs, and then pulls Oswin into his arms, kissing her lightly before pulling her towards the kitchen.

"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry lass. Shall we go find some food?" Brynjolf asks teasingly. Oswin's stomach growls and she laughs before nodding her head in agreement. They head off to the kitchen to get food, while Cicero and Tinuviel head to the cellar for the ale.

"Bryn, how do you know her?" Oswin asks. Brynjolf looks at her, and they stop walking. Brynjolf takes a deep breath, having fully expected this conversation.

"We used to be partners. Tinuviel was a member of the Thieves guild, until one day she disappeared, leaving only a note. She said that she had spent far too long with us and that her family needed her right then. We never saw her again. As for how I know her as well as I do, well, I recruited her. I taught her how to pick pockets and helped her get better at picking locks. She was stealthy as a shadow that one, and I couldn't find anyone who could match her talent with a bow if I tried! And trust me, I tried. We worked together and were good friends, but she always seemed aware and she never let her guard down. She seemed to think that someone was hunting her. You never know, someone probably was." Brynjolf explains. Oswin listens intently, and seems satisfied with his answer. She smiles coyly up at him, looking small compared to him.

"Well, I'm glad I don't have to be a jealous, possessive jerk around her. But when it comes to sharing, you know that I'm no good. Especially when it comes to sharing men." She finishes with a sneer. Brynjolf raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"So, I'm yours now lass?" He asks mischievously. She smirks before responding, "Weren't you always?" He laughs and a gleam appears in his eyes. He laughs once more before pulling her up the stairs.

Meanwhile, Cicero and Tinuviel walk down the halls of the basement. It's bright, lit at intervals by torches so that it's not gloomy. They walk down the halls, Cicero staying silent.

"Accomplices? Is that all Cicero is to you?" He asks, his voice still serious. He stops and eyes her. She stops and turns to face him, sighing.

"Cicero…" She trails off, seeing the bitter unhappiness in his eyes. He doesn't smile for once, or dance, or speak. He merely stands, looking much like the sane man he used to be, except for his clothes of course. He had gradually regained a bit of his sanity as he spent more and more time with Tinuviel. He had gradually become more of the man he used to be.

"Perhaps Cicero should go back to the Sanctuary and care for mother. Listener is more than capable enough to return home by herself without an... accomplice. Cicero thought that he meant more that to the Listener. Cicero thought that he-" Tinuviel silences him by kissing him on the mouth, taking him by surprise.

"My dear Keeper, it's no fun to tell them the truth." She winks, and then laughs at his wide eyed expression. Cicero joins in, his laughter not an insane cackle, but a normal laugh. Their laughter slowly fades until the only thing left is an amused smile.

"Ah, my dear Listener is very clever. Cicero impressed once more!" He exclaims, and Tinuviel smiles. She takes his hand and they continue on through the basement, searching for drinks. They finally find some Alto Wine and Blackbriar Mead, and return to the room where they met Brynjolf and Oswin. They are already seated around a table, eating grilled leeks and salmon. Two more plates sit untouched. Tinuviel puts the drinks down in the middle and everyone takes what they want. Oswin looks at Tinuviel expectantly, and Tinuviel rolls her eyes.

"Yes, I am in love with him." She says with a smile. Bryn lifts his glass, and the others do as well.

"To love, friendship, and whatever comes next!" He says lightheartedly. Everyone yells their agreement and drinks. Another job complete, another victory won, another celebration required. So they celebrate.