Blackfeather Woods let darkness consume

Sheogorath's ears twitched briefly when Potema asked since when he talked the way he did. He smiled warmly at his sister, his face more expressive than it had been in some time. "Does it really matter?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow. There was a desire for darkness growing inside of him, a shadow that had followed Cicero for a while and now came out. Sheogorath thought back to the moment he had attacked Grimnir — at the time out of necessity, to protect his beloved, but the thought unlocked a lust for blood.

"How have the Woods fared?" asked Sheogorath. "Do we have any enemies that need taking care of?" He looked at Potema, and part of him dearly hoped that the answer was 'yes'.