(A thank you to Mephala's player for her part in this chaotic story. Since the player finally made a profile for her, here it is! Mephala)

Dawn of the Whispering Lady


"Thieves, the lot of 'em," the patrol officer scowled to his comrade in a stage whisper. "There 'ave been more and more of 'em roamin' the streets. If only we could round 'em all up and dump 'em in the river." The burly officer crossed his arms over his broad chest, shifting a narrow gaze to the shorter officer standing beside him. "Tossed a couple o' them in the slammer m'self. Lotta good that did. Someone always lets 'em loose..."

That was as much as Shayne listened to, losing interest quickly as he made his silent approach behind the Vanir guards. Clips of words and phrases brought a smile to his face as irony struck in his mind, brought a coy smile to his face. Whine and gripe about thieves? Oh you'll just love this one then. Want to see a magic trick? Shayne thought to himself, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as nimble fingers effortlessly dove into the burly guard's pocket.

----------


Whistling, a broad smile crinkled the edges of his mouth as evergreen eyes watched the stolen coin purse get tossed into the air then drop heavily into his hand. Worn shoes dusted the cobblestone streets as the evening hours cast shadows across the ground and the fog gave a hazy light around the lanterns and candles illuminating the windows of the wooden homes lining each side of the street. "Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy," he sang, out of tune and with little rhythm to back the words.

"Now, I can only imagine what this goes to," he sang, the coin purse thudded into his palm before he pocketed it, turning his attention instead to the skeleton key in his other palm. Rolling and turning the metal key in his hand, he imagined the possibilities: a vault, the home of the guard, maybe even the cells in the prison. A darker smile manifested on his face as he imagined unleashing the Vanir prisoners back onto the streets. Quick job, in and out. Slip in, slip out. Unnoticed. I could pull tha' off, piece o' cake.



Watching intently without a hint of seemingly existing. For decades, centuries of simply observing. How odd it struck the girl that so little of the 'mortal' races even had any acknowledgement of the subtle nature of their world that were indeed her family, Daedra. For far too long they lived on ignorantly, with only small 'cults' taking even the slightest of notice. It was only in watching this simple street rat with the nimble fingers that ignited a thought, sparked an idea in her nearly limitless mind. I'll begin the start of a new ear for these little creatures. They will know us, know me. Starting with him~ thoughts murmured to herself in her solitude. Soon to be broken.

"Neat trick, I bet there's plenty who could find use in that little talent of yours." Faint whispers to the lad's ears, and his alone. " Does it not get boring? Doing the same thing over and over on a daily basis? How mundane an existence that must be."



His mind had been wrapping around idea after idea of what the key could lead to, some possible and logical while others were so outrageous they were merely for his own amusement. Giant mountains of coin, locked in a vault in the depths of the city. Just waiting for a thief to come by and-- He didn't finish that thought.

The slow roll of the metallic key halted in his palm, green eyes ticking and staring ahead as all of his movement ceased. The soft dusting of steps had stopped with a final scuff over the stones, his shoulders and frame growing rigid as the woman's voice had come to him as clear as day and so sudden. With another blink of an eye, his head swiveled and caused the dark brown mop of hair to shift around a square jawline, taut with tension.

He said nothing while his eyes narrowed in the midst of his scanning the street and the neighboring alleys. Searching for the owner of the voice, as if she was a shadow waiting to pop out. "Who're ye? Don'tcha know that spying on people ain't polite?" His tone was guarded, suspicious with the thought that someone had been spying on him. Had caught him in the act of thievery. And yet, he went on. "Sure there's plenty tha' could use the skill, but if there were more o' us, then it wouldn't be a skill now, would it? It'd be common, and useless."

His feet started slowly forward, his head turning this way and that, looking for the woman. "Guess it could get borin'... if ye don't know how to challenge yerself. But I guess event'lly, ya'd run outta challenges..." He babbled on, only to bite his tongue when frustration struck cords in his chest when he couldn't find the owner of the voice. "Ye gonna come outta the shadows or wha'?" His top lip curled with a scowl, his fist clutching the skeleton key until indents of the metal could be traced in his palm.



She let out a soft, yet drawn out sigh. "Spying? Politeness is a deceitful trick of your kin my little Mortal." Faint giggling ensued after her remark, only to be followed by more answers to his questioning. "The shadows? I'm not hiding at all. You see, or rather... Don't see. That's just the typical folly of your kind. Always so focused on what they can see, and not what can simply be unseen. A thief should now that what's unseen can still be very much there. But... I Digress, you will not be able to see me, not for a time. For I, and those like me, we are beyond your little world. As vast as it may be, 'tis only one of many, and many more yet to come. And now, it's my turn for questions. What if... I were to tell you the 'challenges' as you call them, never have to end? Boredom only afflicts those who've no real understanding of entertainment. Your game you play now will eventually come to an end. And that luck of yours will run out. Did you now they'll take your hand if you're caught stealing a mere three times? Take it clean off. And typically infection kills those who lose that precious appendage." For some reason or another, her impulsive decision to 'pick' this mortal seemed even more a better decision by the minute. He amused her greatly already. I do hope this amusement doesn't end quickly...

"You know, I'm fully aware of what you're thinking. You've gone mad. Off your rocker. And that is most accurate. Not only for yourself but every single mortal that lives to this very day. You see insanity is what 'people' do every single day. Same routines, same actions and pathways. All while hoping, praying for an alternate outcome that will never be. COULD never be. But today, today you shed your madness. Today you will become one of the few, very few. Sane mortals to ever live. The truth is simple. There are only two things in the world that are completely true. To their word, to their action, to their method and their outcomes. Chaos and Chance. Everything else are simply alternates based on false pretenses. Honor, dignity, love... These are all simple excuses to be hesitant on the true desires of man and fey alike. I'm not imaginary, although I am in your head. And I shall prove it to you. Take the alley across the main street from you, follow the pathway to the left, and be swift about it. That guard has noticed he's been pick-pocketed. There you will see a jack o' lantern most out of place, with a wick from it's left eye socket. Light the fuse and move quickly away. Then await your surprise. Tis' a most wondrous gift I shall bestow upon you this day. Do not let it be wasted." Her instructions followed by faint giggling, which spread into a hoarse cackle. Only to quickly fade into silence.



A snicker escaped the space between his lips as she talked of his madness. "What is madness but a form o' thinking tha' others don't agree with?" He muttered, almost raving to himself. "A line out o' place from the expectations of society, and yer deemed 'mad'," he murmured, shaking his head. "Or m'favorite wording, 'troubled'," he chuckled, only to grow silent to the voice whispering in his head. She confirmed being in his mind, but denied being a figment of his imagination. "A figment of m'imagination and madness would deny it," he informed her. But for whatever rhyme or reason, he still listened.

His expression turned to her instructions, and while many would question such demands, he didn't. What he'd later discover the reasoning behind it - was indeed 'impulse'. But what he believed the reasoning to be in the moment - seeking the truth. Validation of madness or sanity, maybe. Regardless of the reason, he followed it.

The moment she finished her instruction, he shrugged away from the wall serving as a leaning post. Far from robotic, he allowed his impulses to drive him. To the alley, the pathway on the left, even to the jack o' lantern that seemed unbelievably out of place - especially this time of year.

Approaching the lantern, he peered into it's socket to find the fuse the woman had mentioned. With a small packet of matches retrieved from his pocket, he struck the wooden stick aflame and lit the fuse without a second thought - without question. As the fuse fizzled to life, intensity burned and mirrored the flames that flickered in his irises as he dropped the match and retreated. Slipping into the shadows of a nearby alley, he crouched and peered along with view of the lantern but kept a distance. Why? Intuition told him to - or maybe it had been her.

"Now wha'?" He whispered, evergreens nearly saucers at this point as he watched on. For reasons unknown, his trust and intrigue was solely with this disembodied voice in his head, telling him to do strange things that so far made little sense to him.




"Wait, and watch... Three, two, oooonnnee and~ " Merely half a second after, the Jack o' lantern erupted into a blast of cinders and soon after ripped apart the cobblestone beneath it, sending massive chunks of burning rubble through buildings adjacent. Which in turn burst into flames as well. Conveniently placed it would seem, as a nearby tavern were engulfed in flames as well. Alcohol being highly flammable, before long the entire vicinity in which ground zero of the explosion occurred were nothing but massive flames, torn asunder buildings, and of course.. Carnage. Screams of locals traveled through the vicinity. The very guard which had been pick-pocketed along with several others rushing to the scene. He, himself, attempting to open a door, only to be roasted alive by the back draft instantaneously. Before the Lad's very eyes, chaos emerged free in it's form. All by the simple igniting of a wick. Echoing through that skull of his were the whispering lady's hysterical laughter. "Look at them scuttle and flee, like the minuscule insects they truly are! Now do you see? This is the true nature of man. Self serving survival. Leaving 'loved' ones behind to burn alive just to save their own skin. No morality, no honor or dignity. Just self indulged cravings to survive. Ultimately insignificant. And look at you. The bringer of this wonderful truth, the truth chaos brought forth for you to bear witness. They are irrelevant, and you were too. Up until this very moment. With virtually no effort at all, you've changed this sinkhole of a city. Altered fate itself for yourself, and those caught in the storm. That guard, he would have found you little one. But now look at him. Nothing but singed flesh and sinew, and you are a free man, safe to claim the spoils of whatever lay behind the lock of that key in your possession." She began to giggle once more. "Such a beauty it is, no? Now for a reward! I shall teach you with utmost haste." With a simple assertion of her will, chemical theories, the chemical recipe for gunpowder, and simple explosives itched into his very mind. "Welcome to the side of Truth, Shayne. Without a doubt you'll likely enjoy it here~"

(Another thank you to Mephala's player for this scene as well. Seriously, they need to make a profile. M'just sayin'.)


New World Order Rising


Sitting in her shrouded darkened dwelling, the blonde green eyed beauty tapped her foot on the vacant space that would be a floor surface. If it were actually a physical ground. In her palm lay an object in the shape of an apple, golden in hue. Those vibrant green eyes staring intently at the object as if eagerly awaiting some kind of event to unfold on it's shimmering surface. "Almost time..." she muttered to herself shortly before a wicked grin began sweeping across her features.


Mephala's words had sang truth about the treasury key. He'd snuck in while the chaos had erupted around the city from the explosion, many of the guards surrounding the mayhem and cleaning up the mess they'd made together. With the numbers limited in protecting the main center of the city, it hadn't been much trouble for him to sneak into the treasury room and line with pockets with riches. Stashing away his newly earned riches, he'd spent the next day picking apart the words and meanings shared with him from the Whispering Lady. He'd nearly worn the floorboards of his shed-sized home with his circling and pacing, rethinking and analyzing everything she'd told him.

By the second day, impulse drove him to commit thievery once more - this time, to an apothecary's shop, then an alchemist's. Obtaining the nightshade and rose thorn, he already owned a mortar and pestle.

The third night, he'd climbed into the den beneath his home - a makeshift basement with a hidden door beneath the thin mattress that served as his bed. He stood at his alchemist's table, staring down at the crushed ingredients and the box of matches set beside the bowl. He didn't need windows to know the hour, feeling the chill of the earthly walls of the basement surrounding the room.

He'd considered his options over the past few days. But the answer seemed obvious to him. How could I go back to the way things were? He'd already tested the recipes shared in his mind from Mephala, proving to be true. There was no way for them to fragments of madness, or his subconscious telling him to make these things. He had no knowledge of explosives before this woman. She had to be real.

The truth was, he couldn't go back to his life before her. His craving of knowledge, his want to feel that freedom and exhilaration radiating from his soul the moment that small lantern had caused such mayhem. He couldn't return to the repetition, the mundane that was his life before that night.

His square jaw riddled with stubble tensed as a swift motion of hand snatched the box of matches from the table. A sharp swipe of the stick to the rough wood of the table struck the match to life a moment before he tossed the flame to the ingredients. As they caught flame and started to smoke, he rolled his eyes shut and leaned forward to inhale the smoke rising from the bowl. While inhaling poison might've seemed reckless, even suicidal, he didn't hesitate in filling his lungs completely.

A moment later, the world shifted and turned over on itself.


Before the lad barely holding onto life by a thread, begot a world none would ever believe had he mentioned it. A thick clouded sky above shimmering a deep crimson hue, seemingly held up in place by several pillars. The sky clouds resembled a body of liquid, hues describing blood. Beneath him was utter blackness. The pillars and his chair (seemingly made of nothing but briar bush and thorns) Suspended there over the darkness below. All across the blankness faint sounds of scuttling could be heard, as if many roaming along, with many legs.

"Ah, you've finally arrived, and right on time at that. Three days is short in time, but ever so long when waiting."

Her voice echoed along like musical notes. Until the visage that soon manifested into a solidified being before him. A maiden with long blonde hair held up in a loose ponytail. Adorned in a beige toga, almost too short for her frame, much skin shown. Little was left to the imagination. The woman bore a wide, and seemingly wicked grin on her face. Vibrant green oculars set on him. A certain "fire" set behind those iris' of hers. One hand lay on her cocked hip, the other grasping what appeared to be an apple shaped idol of solid gold.

"Welcome to my world Shayne. The Spiral Skein, tis' the name. This, the first layer. Behold the representation of mirrored truth, the lies of your kin. Drenched in the blood of those slain needlessly out of the desires of man and fey. The desire to control others' will for selfish gain. Be wary the scuttling, my minions are far from friendly towards your kin. In fact, certainly they'd much rather make a feast of your bones than speak with you."

For a moment she began to circle him, twice over. Only to cease her movement before him. Behind her from a pillar slipped down a creature with sleek black legs and thorax. Yet a torso, pair of arms, and head of a human woman. Her eyes blank and void of iris or pupil. Yet she stared in his general direction. Eight legs holding her body upright behind the Whispering Lady, standing approximately two feet in height over the maiden, easily seen from directly behind her.

"Tell me Shayne, have you ever heard of the term... Daedra?"

The moment she told him not to mind the creature behind him, his eyes swept away from the spideress back to the maiden. Less in an obedient way, but more in curiosity. Perhaps even trust. Loyal, he'd come to understand the term. Something he didn't understand up until that moment, and even moments later. But it didn't stop him from watching through peripheral the departure of the spider and the way she spoke about it and the Daedra. "The Creators. Of everything we know?" His eyes narrowed, in a squint but not a glare. He'd only heard the tales of beings around since the beginning of time. An Orphan among many on the streets of Vanir lands, and those surrounding. He'd heard tidbits here and there on the streets, whispers and rumors through the grapevine, so to speak.

His mouth opened to say something more, but was hushed by the graze to his cheek that had him reluctantly swallowing hard. In his defense, Mephala was far more woman than he was accustomed to. Beauty of her standards and frame weren't easy to come by in his plane, and far less in his scummy part of town. Most of the girls he knew were older, those his age were half starved and malnutritioned. Lanky and formless, with dirty faces and hardly a feature to set them apart from another.

With a faint shake of his head, his thoughts were swept from his mind as he drew his attention closer to her words instead of her form. "The first? Well don't I feel... special," he gave a sly smile. "I'd boast it, but who would believe me?" He chuckled, half convinced that without knowing or seeing first hand what had happened, he likely wouldn't believe it either if he'd been told.

The apple held in front of him drew his attention away from her golden locks, to the golden shimmer of the fruit idol. Any devious thoughts he'd had were washed away by the view caught within the reflection of the apple. The girl with her scars holding the head, the ferocity in the man's eyes and the erratic look in the woman's. Names that were lost to him of Mephala's kin which he'd soon learn to memorize and recite by heart with clear understanding of their purpose and meaning.

Eyes lifted to the woman from where he was seated, clutching the armrests of the chair with the thorns pressing holes in his palms without care or notice. "I'm aware o' the Thieves Guild," he snickered. "The rumor mill is thick in my parts o' town," he informed her, his understanding of the Guild clear in that moment. He'd once considered seeking them out, but he'd swayed away from the prospect a time ago.

"'N agent? What kinda ag--" Cut off at the throat by the gentle smile and the extended fist, he stared at the knuckles that belonged to the hand until he lifted one of his own. His palm opened to accept whatever she was holding out to him, his gaze flickering up to the face that owned that sweetly contrasting smile. "...Some'n tells me ye not gon' tell me what it does.. Like the lantern?" There was a coy smile that curled the corner of his mouth, a smirk that spoke of his intent. No, he didn't mind. Yes, he wanted to find out what it did.


"Well aren't you quick? I like that."

Quickly uncurling her fingers, a simplistic ring fell from her hand into his. A simple trinket so it would seem. Gold band with an emerald stone set in it's base. However on closer inspection the stone held the imagery of a cats-eye. Mephala held her smile. Her head canting ever so slightly to the left.

"The ring of Khajiit is yours to use as you see fit. Once you wear it you'll come to realize it's usefulness. I wouldn't suggest letting others know you possess such an artifact however. Many would seek to take it from you. Alas, you must depart for now however. For in order to stand in my realm without a proper anchor you need be on the brink of your end. And we're out of time. Or you'll become a permanent addition to this world. Soooo... With that. Begone, for now."

She cast a 'not so subtle' wink at him before swiftly flicking him on the forehead, a forced departure back from his out of body experience. So to speak anyway, as he would soon no doubt take notice of the infliction he'd cast on his own palms from gripping that chair.


"Wouldn't have made it to m'teens if I wasn't," he snickered, a sad truth in the slums of the Vanir. Even if the Vanir was the lighter of the two courts, crime reigned in both, higher in the slums than the more central of the city.

The light material of the ring, even with the stone landed in his palm pricked from the points of the thorny chair. Ignoring the sight of blood, he peered instead at the shimmer of the ring. Closer still to the emerald, closer even to the cats-eye that he stared at until she made her explanation. The look on his face spoke volumes: Don't ruin the surprise! And his smile was quick to return when she didn't, just to turn darker and more insidious to her talk about others trying to take it. "Only from my cold dead hands," he told her. "And ye taught me some new tricks," he cackled, saying it without saying it. I'll give 'em a run for their money if they try. "But I won't say nothin'," he promised, not wanting to take the unnecessary risks. Not for something that Mephala had given him. Not for her gift.

There was a faint frown when she told him it was time to leave but he couldn't object if he wanted to with that not-so-subtle wink. Brows knitted together as his eyes followed the finger's descent to his forehead. The flick was quick, and it sent him back into that dizzying transition from plane to plane.

The sudden connection of soul and body forced his sprawled form on the floor to spring forward like Dracula from his coffin. Eyes wide, he gasped for the air that swelled in lungs. Falling into a coughing fit, he balled his fist in front of his mouth to catch it until the pain became apparent with the effort. His chest still rocking with the coughing, he opened his fist to peer at the small pricks to his palm left behind from the bush and thorn chair. Realization that though it felt much like a dream it wasn't came crashing down when he felt the warmed metal of the circular jewelry clutched in his other palm.

As his coughing ceased to a wheeze from the inhalation of poison, he opened his other palm to present the golden ring set with the cats-eye emerald. Green reflecting green, he stared at it in awe and near shock.

The beginning of the reality he'd known his whole life began to crumble. What he knew, or what he'd thought he'd known to be the truth turned out to be lies. His world, his plane, it felt pathetic and mundane in comparison. His eyes and mind was opened, peeking at first those nights ago. Now, his eyes were wide open and clarity trickled into his mind.

"M'not insane... they are," he muttered to himself, running his thumb over the smooth gold ring.

As the guards continued to escort her she played the role of the wounded well. Until there was seemingly no one to play witness. Then, in a flash she drew that sword, cleaving one guard's head straight off his shoulders. As the other turned to witness, her blade was plunged through his torso, directly where his heart would lay. The girl was utterly vicious and precise with her blows. One per guard, both dead in an instant. Proof of her combat prowess, though her strokes showed unorthodox combatant style. Like that of a self taught fighter, or... A Bandit. Drawing her blade from the second guard's chest, as he collapsed she knelt down to shuffle through their pockets until brandishing a key. Leaving all other possessions on their persons as she dragged their carcasses into the nearby alley. Stepping out with a sinister grin she practically skipped along with as much pep was in her steps. In the direction of the barracks. Bold or insane? Either way she was heading straight for where the guards lay their heads. Sword in hand at that. With a key that with her direction would suggest to be, a prison key..


Shayne trailed them with unhindered intrigue. What is this girl up to? A curious mind would likely be the death of him some day. As he continued along, he stopped instantly at the whirlwind of the treacherous girl. Halting steps, his brows soared skyward as she viciously took down two guards almost with little effort to show for it. His head canted slowly to the right, the dingy mop of brown hair dusting his forehead as it swept to the side. He kept his presence unknown for the time being, simply an onlooker. Something he'd later discover called 'films', he watched on as if this simply was one. If it wasn't for his insistence in remaining unseen, he might've cheered the girl on. Perhaps even come up with a rhyme and dance for the occasion.

Persistent discretion kept him from outing himself. Furthermore, curiosity. Watching still as she picked through the pockets of the dead guards, he saw the glimmer of metal in her hand. A key.

A curl of his lips hinted to his knowledge what the key was for, and he wasn't sure if it was a lucky grab or intent that had her skipping off with it. For whatever reason, his hushed but quick steps trailed her in his invisible state to see just what this macabre entity was plotting.


As she eventually came up to the door to the Barracks, she hesitated to take a deep breath. Muttering to herself in hushed tones. "One favor from Daedra to Daedra. Then I can leave this stupid world for good... Just a few more silly guards in the way~ Easy 'nuff!" The girl was frantic, but seemingly rather peppy for a murderer. And someone who not even five minutes ago was just balling her eyes out. In a flash she slipped in that door, sliding it shut behind her. Well, almost. The latch didn't connect, leaving a crack in the opening. From said crack the clashing of metal and a feel death screeches emerged. Then? Silence. Making her way down into the bowels of the structure she moved from cell to cell, freeing every prisoner without saying a word to any of them. Only to turn on her heels after the last prisoner were freed. Making her way right back up to the guard living quarters above. She began searching through the jailer desk until brandishing a map from it's drawers. Spreading it out over the desk it would appear she was marking out a trail. Tracing along with her index finger after running it along the tip of her blade to collect blood from the recently slain. That very finger went right into her mouth after finishing her lining of the map before her. "Salty~" she exclaimed to herself. Giggling while completely ignoring the existence of the prisoners fleeing out the entrance. The pattern marked out on the map lead through the main city, to the kingdom castle itself, then out the other side of town. Seeming as though the girl's quest had to do with royalty. Making the prison break obviously a distraction for the town guards.


An invisible shadow (ironically, enough) to the girl, he trailed her. Started after her, he paused at the doorway to hear her mutterings about Daedra. Mephala had mentioned those. What had she said? Ah, yes. Vaermina. This one was Vaermina's. He was still working on discovering all he could on the things called 'Daedra'. To better understand, though he was aware that mortals often got their stories wrong. Mephala could tell me better, she knows the Truth... Later, later. Keeping from distracting himself with his own thoughts, he continued on his goal. Discover what this treacherous girl was up to.

To the Barracks, he slipped in quickly after her when she was out of sight of the doorway to not notice the silent shift of the metal door as it opened enough for him to slide through the opening and close to where it was - not fully, just a crack. He covered his tracks well. Though the effort seemed wasted when she hardly seemed to notice anything else around her. Lost in her own mind, it seemed. I can relate, he snickered quietly under his breath, half-crouched as he followed her and made sure to steer clear of the prisoners making their escape.

Up to the Guard's Quarters, he stopped when she paused at a desk and sought a map. Standing from his crouch, he craned his neck to look at what she was without getting too close. Paranoia kept him from informing her of his body heat, or his breath. A safe distance. Don't get discovered. Discovery means questions.

It was the deranged action of her licking the blood of her victims and claiming it's... saltiness that had him blinking slowly at her. She's a whole new level of psychopath. We don't get many of those. Yet, instead of being put off by it or disturbed, he became intrigued with the questions floating about his head. Just what is she capable of? Blinking rapidly, he turned his gaze to the map she was trailing her finger over. The Royals. That caused his brows to furrow deeply, casting his gaze between the map and the girl. What are you plannin--

Again, driven by impulse, keeping silent wasn't in his cards for the moment. Slipping around the corner to hide his own treachery, behind the cover of the wall he removed the ring. Casual, calm. His expression holding little emotion, he pocketed the ring just as his spine rolled around the corner to lean his shoulder against the opening of the room.

Just as his form was presented, his hands had risen to slowly clap his hands as the corners of his mouth curled into an insidious smile. "And the award fer Best Actress goes to..." He sang, pausing suddenly in his clapping as he leaned forward and whispered to her like he was telling her a secret. "This is yer cue to state yer name, darlin'."


She didn't even turn to face him. Instead she paused. Her hands shaking. "Marceline." She responded after a moment of silence. "Skulking around, you a thief or an assassin mister....?" In a flash she spun around. Turning his actions on him. Leaning in as he did. "Now's your cue to state your name Pretty boy~" Her words came out like a haunting tune. More sang than spoken. Yet that although that sinister grin returned to her face she didn't even tense up like she would prepare to fight. Instead, the girl's aura simply gave off not dread like her actions... It was sadness radiating off her. In that moment her very existence seemed more like a tragedy than a monstrosity.

Short lived however. As in a mere second after the linger she jolted back. A look of terror held in those chocolate hued eyes of hers. "You're a cultist... A-Are... You Molag Bal's..?" For some reason or another, it was clear as day, this girl was terrified of whoever that Daedra was. The tremble grew ever worse in her body. And in that moment her hand clenched to that sword hilt. Tight and firm. No one at that point could mistake that fight or flight had overtaken her battered body.