Blackfeather Woods let darkness consume

It did not take long for someone to find Sheogorath, and he turned his head to look at his approaching sister. While some thoughts had been changed and twisted, Sheogorath knew this one, the one-eyed girl. His sister. "Potema," he said in greeting while he turned head towards his sister. A rough nudge to the shoulder — perhaps rougher than one was used to from Cicero — was given in physical greeting.

Sheogorath's face seemed more full of life than it had in some time; almost as though young tiny Cicero had been placed into the shell of older Cicero. "How have you been?" There was an uncharacteristic smile on Sheogorath's face, a playful twinkle in his eyes. As he looked at his sister's face, he remembered seeing the torn flesh surrounding her eye and realised how lucky she was to have survived at all. He licked his lips, almost able to taste Grimnir's flesh between his teeth again.