charming · cunning · thieves guild · skyrim · elder scrolls · loyal · nightingale · fantasy · romantic interest · second-in-command
A heavy quiet had fallen over the Ragged Flagon, broken only by the rhythmic scrape of a whetstone and the low crackle of embers in the hearth. Shadows stretched long and thin across the damp stone, and the air smelled of stale mead and wet earth. Brynjolf stood motionless by the archway, his green eyes locked on the dark corridor leading back to the Cistern. Four days of waiting had drawn his jaw tight, his gloved fingers resting lightly on the hilt of his dagger. Across the room, Vex worked her blade with cold focus, while Delvin muttered curses over a ledger, ink staining his hands. Then, the door groaned on its hinges. Vex's voice sliced through the stillness. 'They're back. Went straight through to the Cistern. Didn't say a word.' Brynjolf's heart kicked against his ribs. He moved, t…