OOC: http://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/unforeseen-overture-skyrim-ooc.27147/ Mid-day was overcast darker than this hour usually was with a thick canopy of gray clouds as amber-hued leaves were sent dancing through the air by a gust of wind, the forest humming with the pattering of droplets that fell from skyward down to earth. The covering of seasoning birch trees was the dead giveaway to tell anyone that this was the region of the Rift, only a few firs dotting the landscape. After a few hundred feet, visibility ended entirely behind a vail of gray-blue cast by the drizzle, making the land seem swallowed up by a sea of fluffy mist. The only sounds besides the pitter-patter of rain that broke the silence was that of a fire a short distance away, the wood spitting as it tried to maintain a fire and quickly loosing life to the incessant water dripping down on it from the sky, and the occasional pawing or snort from a dark-colored horse with unusual eyes that seemed to glow a menacing blood red. Laying not far from the horse was the carcass of a bear, which was thoroughly mutilated and ripped open, blood soaking much of it's brown fur. Silently, a single blue eye, the other right eye scarred and shut, scanned the land with intent criticality. The figure - who wasn't very large, somewhere a margin over five feet in height - sat atop the flat of a wide stone pillar long ruined by time, which stood vigil in front of a Jarrol mountain cave just off the main road heading west towards Ivarstead. A large black cloak lined in black fur and feathers draped over him to hide most features of his body, a few brown and blond locks peaking from under the hood, and a body that might be called sickly or painfully thin when no longer hidden by the cloak. Despite being young, appearing as if only in his mid-to-late teens, his single blue eye and heavily scarred face betrayed a hardened, callous, and brutal young man that had seen and experienced too much already for his lifetime. The relative silence of the forest was a welcomed one but he knew that it wouldn't last, though the circumstances towards why the peace would be broken was not an entirely unwelcomed reason either. Rather, it was the inbetween now and when he was to find his target that troubled him. He preferred to work solo, even before the falling apart and rebuilding of the Brotherhood thanks to their past leader...thanks to the betrayer. Bitter weight like a boulder planted itself in his chest all the way down to his stomach at the thought, his hands clenching until his already pale hands turned white as the snow in Winterhold beneath the cloth that draped around his seated body. Why did Nazir have to decide to pair him up for this mission? He could just as easily handle it on his own, if anything any of the other initiates that joined after the relocation would only slow him down or make the Hit more of a hassel for the practiced young assassin. He may have been relatively tolerant...maybe so far as to say 'nice' or 'respectful' to the Redguard assassin, which was a mighty accomplishment for the untrusting and spiteful young male, but that didn't mean he liked any of the others in the group, and certainly not the newer ones. With an irate huff under his breath that made a white exhaled cloud spiral into the air and disappear, he impatiently tapped one index finger in timed rhythm, blue gaze flicking about the land searchingly. Honestly...Fredas, the Angarvunde ruins entrance in the Rift, 4 in the afternoon, SHARP. What about that was so difficult to follow? Real great fucking partner you've set me up with, Nazir, I can tell this one's going to be so damn competant I could drown myself to save the trouble and annoyance. He silently ranted, his mood not doing so great at the moment. Not that his mood was doing well in...well, just about ever. Once in a Blue Moon was a bit too generous in trying to say how often he was in any sort of decent mood, forget a good or great one. If my target gets away I'm going to have this other guy's head for it instead. You know what - forget his head, I'll rip him into so many shreds the animals won't be able to find the leftovers. Really he was away from the sanctuary so much he wasn't even sure who he was meeting - what had his name been? Dave...? Dean? Don...? Something starting with a D, but other than that he didn't care to remember - or who even was a part of the Brotherhood anymore besides Nazir and Babette, but frankly he didn't care to know. As soon as this mission was over, he'd probably never bother with seeing the guy ever again anyway. In fact, if the guy didn't show his ass up to their rendezvous point in the next five minutes, he was probably going to declare To-Oblivion with waiting and go on ahead without, not being one for patience or hospitality, and never meet him at all.