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Surrounded by the duchess and her servants and advisor, Brynjolf is spinning the yarn over some headless tale about a rich duke from Skingrad that he used to serve under. None of that being true, of course, but the ladies were none the wiser. He will continue this farce as long as necessary, and what it would seem, keeping the target herself busy has never been easier. The woman is practically drooling from her mouth over him.
"Is that where you got that scar on your face?" The duchess asks him, followed by a loud gasp from her advisor.
A smile tugs his lips. The classic. Who wouldn't be curious, really. But which tale would he tell about it this time?
"My lady, that is utmost prude assumption to make of one's physical defor— appearance. N-no offense, sir." Her advisor hurries to pardon the duchess' bluntness.
He flashes his teeth with a wholehearted smile and begins to laugh. "None taken, it is hard to miss, after all. Gives a rugged and mysterious look on my face, does it not?" He enjoys both the duchess and her advisor blushing and squirming. "I will gladly tell you about it, if you shall humor me a while longer. I imagine many other guests are looking for your fine company tonight as well."
"And none of them as fine as your company, mister Frey."
"Please, call me Mercer, lass." Brynjolf's coy expression leaves the woman brushing her fan all over her face. "It is actually a completely different story, this. There was this one time me and the duke were visiting the city of Blacklight, to strike a deal with this certain.. aphrodisiac I invented."
"..an aphrodisiac?" The duchess' eyes flutter.
"That's right. You see, I'm a sort of an alchemist myself—"
Brynjolf's trail of thought snaps in half as he feels a light brush on his palm. His eyes phase in and out of focus, searching in the corner of his eye anything out of ordinary. Already? Remarkable. He didn't even notice — perhaps he got a little too carried away with his performance. His eyes close along with his deep exhale as he gathers himself together.
"..But I'm afraid this must wait for another time. For now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave. I'm sure our paths will cross again, my lady." He bows down deeply. "Please don't be shy to seek me out later."
After some protesting from the duchess and a little more convincing from Brynjolf, he dismisses her and her ladies in wait, leaving them giggling together behind his back.
His bow is almost too theatrical, Shiala observes him from the distance. Overdoing it again like a charlatan that he is.
Even when laced with the Sleeping Tree, the wine tastes dull, and the people around her are as interesting as a trail of ants. How does anyone actually enjoy these pretentious parties, Shiala wonders as her eyes glance over another couple that look like they're in the middle of a crisis of their own.
From there, her eyes travel across the ceiling, stopping at the chandelier lit by dozens of magelights and the pattern of different rotating constellations projecting above her head. She only recognizes handful of them, herself.
"Gorgeous." She hears a hushed whisper next to her ear.
"Mm. I suppose it is." Shiala hums back to him, being perfectly aware he wasn't talking about the stars she got caught gazing.
"Just can't take the compliment, can you, my sweet?" Brynjolf's arm wraps around her hip. "Always making me chase your favor."
"Didn't think you had any left in you after the performance you just put out."
"A little jealous, now, aren't you?"
"Please." Shiala pauses as she lands her hand on Brynjolf's. "I almost pity the young woman, eating up your lies like she did. The aphrodisiac-one though, really? She was already all over you before that. "
Brynjolf's eyes joins with her to gaze up the projection of the stars. "Mm. Luckily you saved her with your agile hands. It went unnoticed even by me."
"What can I say? You love wasting other people's time and I love making the best out of it."
That he couldn't deny.
The two enjoy each other's silence for a short moment. The massive hall is filled with many rich guests that would be more than ready to part with some of their jewels, trinkets and gold. That's what Shiala had told Brynjolf beforehand, as well — but as they watch the stars and the crowd from the sidelines, it suddenly feels like all too much.. work.
The couples, old and young, are gathered in the middle for a dance. The main shining constellation changes with the new song the orchestra plays. The rhythm begins rather whimsical as the sign of the Thief shines the brightest.
"How long do you think we have before her advisor notices her brooch is gone?" Shiala leans onto Brynjolf's arm.
"Mm. I will give it a quarter, at tops. She was rather skittish, it seemed."
"Mm-hm. A shame. We best hurry, then."
"Wait," Brynjolf lifts his brows, "you're telling me we came all the way here and we aren't even going to have a one dance?"
She glances at him with the corner of her eye. "And risk of getting caught?"
"Wouldn't that be exciting?" Brynjolf smirks at her, he lifts her hand and leans to give it a gentle kiss before bowing in front of her — just as ridiculously than for the women before. A light snort leaves Shiala’s breath, which only softens the look in his eyes. "May I have this dance, Little Nightingale?"
Her cheeks flush a little. "Fine. But I'm leaving you behind if we get caught."
"Liar." Brynjolf winks and leads her towards the dancing crowd.
As they find their space on the dance floor, Brynjolf's arm lands on her hip as his leading hand clasps together with Shiala's. "Closer, my Shadow," he instructs her with a gentle voice, "don't shy away from the Thief."
She loves and hates how smooth he sounds and the way how it still effects her.
For a moment, it almost feels like they belong there. Brynjolf is much better dancer than Shiala is, but his gentle, firm lead makes him so easy to follow. Some of the crowd begins to immediately whisper, 'who are they?' and 'where did they come from?' without even pretending to be discreet about it.
"You look beautiful," Brynjolf whispers, seeing her getting distracted over the people surrounding them. "they are all looking at you, Dragonborn."
Somehow that does not make her feel any easier.
She meets her eyes briefly with the duchess, who is following the dance from the side, ignoring her advisor who is clearly lost her interest. The look on her face is nearly worth to risk it all. It swiftly changes from fluster to pure held-back fury. Shiala chuckles and gives her back a wicked smile.
She's about to give this woman a show.
"Mm. I say let them. " Shiala's hand trails slowly to Brynjolf's neck, enough to pull him and lean for a kiss.
Brynjolf's ears burn from her sudden show of affection. "Careful now," he chuckles into her mouth, "I'm gonna have to steal you elsewhere."
She glances at that devious smile of his with half-lidded eyes. "You might have to. I'm afraid our time is up." She nudges her head towards the duchess.
With the next spin Brynjolf's gaze lifts from Shiala's to see the face of the duchess and her advisor. "My. I guess lord Mercer Frey of Skingrad is about have their arse kicked." He laughs with a twinkle in his eyes. "Shall we make a run for it?"
"We? I told you I would leave you behind."
"Your deception is almost making me feel nostalgic, lass." He whispers to her ear before giving her an underarm spin.
As she returns to his arms, Shiala eyes return to the duchess. While her stare could probably cut ice, her advisor has started to show signs of panic. It would seem that she has noticed her brooch has gone missing.
"A shame. I was just about to get warmed up."Brynjolf sighs disappointed and begins to whirl Nocturnal’s spell on his wrist.
"Maybe we can have just a bit longer for ourselves." Shiala's voice lowers a tone. "Hold my hand."
Brynjolf's spell fades as he looks down to his partners in crime. "W-wait, are you—"
"Tiid, klo ul."(*) The words of dovah roll out of her tongue with a hushed voice.
The silence following the thu'um is so loud it makes their ears ring. The world nearly stops in place as it breaks the rules of time.
They look at one another, then the crowd around them that has almost completely stopped moving.
"Woah." Brynjolf lets out a sigh after he takes in the moment. "This feels.. much potent than the last time."
"I know." Shiala trots ahead of him with her hands behind her back. "Turns out, if you mix Sleeping Tree with deathbells and antler-dust, it makes tiid stronger. It doesn't always work, though.
"Aaand.. it might knock me out cold once it's out of my system."
Unbelievable.
"You—" Brynjolf cannot believe his ears. "Are you saying you're stoned as a goat right now?"
"Only a little." A small giggle leaves Shiala's lips as she turns towards him. "Want some?" She jingles a violet-hued vial between her fingers.
His expression softens a little. Only she could get away with something like this.
"You are out of your mind, woman." He mumbles, closing the distance between them. "And I adore you for it. Now give me that before you start flying."
"Only to confiscate?"
"That remains to be seen." He squints at the vial to see its consistency.
Shiala's eyes wander at the ceiling again. Her eyes focused on the chandelier, she snaps her finger and with it, the magelights turn dim. The main constellation on the above changes it shape as it shifts to Shadow. "Well, isn't this just romantic?"
Brynjolf watches Shiala in awe. His mad love, high out of his mind in the middle of the crowd of high-ranked generals, dukes and duchesess, high-class politicians.. and there she stands in the dark, outshining them all.
"I never knew that Shadow could cast so much light." He whispers under his breath.
"Mm? What was that?"
"Nothing." He smiles softly as he holds out his hand for her. "Shall we dance?"
