March 18, 2016, 06:28 PM
Cicero smiled as Malice offered to do something for him if he wished it so. He was glad that he had helped, for he was not only a spy but an ambassador at heart, too; his heart was not all darkness and black. Like anyone's, his soul had ugly streaks painted upon it, but there was plenty of light in it too. He did genuinely like Malice, and particularly liked that his attempts to fix whatever was broken between packs. However, he wondered if it would last in the long run would Malice not fix things with Nemesis, too. "Nemesis does not seem to share Burke's newfound fondness, Cicero thinks," he shared. Perhaps Nemesis would be unamused by him telling Malice of it, but so be it. "Malice would do well to be wary of her." Cicero himself knew Malice better than Nemesis, it seemed, and though he trusted and respected Nemesis as Beta of Blackfeather Woods, he was not sure for the safety of those who crossed her outside of the pack.
Malice asked the inevitable — what had happened to him. Cicero was tired of making excuses and telling lies. "Cicero fought someone who needed as much relief as he did." That was what it seemed everything was about, always; relief. Cicero needed pain to feel alive, needed relief to stop the dark and ugly beast that wanted to pry its way out of his heart, clawing him apart shred by shred in the process. He did not want Sheogorath to ever return, but would he be able to keep the beast inside? He might, this way; the pain was just a positive side-effect, truthfully, to the relief that seemed to keep Sheogorath at bay, for now. But Cicero knew that the festering of the lies he told his family, how he had never told anyone the truth about the white wolf and what had happened then, would eventually tear him asunder. Yet for now, the shame for the event was greater than the boon of keeping Sheogorath at bay and he simply could not bring himself to share with anyone what had happened, for it ultimately meant he would need to share the beast that he carried inside, too.
Malice asked the inevitable — what had happened to him. Cicero was tired of making excuses and telling lies. "Cicero fought someone who needed as much relief as he did." That was what it seemed everything was about, always; relief. Cicero needed pain to feel alive, needed relief to stop the dark and ugly beast that wanted to pry its way out of his heart, clawing him apart shred by shred in the process. He did not want Sheogorath to ever return, but would he be able to keep the beast inside? He might, this way; the pain was just a positive side-effect, truthfully, to the relief that seemed to keep Sheogorath at bay, for now. But Cicero knew that the festering of the lies he told his family, how he had never told anyone the truth about the white wolf and what had happened then, would eventually tear him asunder. Yet for now, the shame for the event was greater than the boon of keeping Sheogorath at bay and he simply could not bring himself to share with anyone what had happened, for it ultimately meant he would need to share the beast that he carried inside, too.
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Messages In This Thread
shards in the water - by Cicero - March 16, 2016, 07:48 AM
RE: shards in the water - by Malice - March 16, 2016, 10:25 AM
RE: shards in the water - by Cicero - March 16, 2016, 10:40 AM
RE: shards in the water - by Malice - March 18, 2016, 05:51 PM
RE: shards in the water - by Cicero - March 18, 2016, 06:28 PM
RE: shards in the water - by Malice - March 21, 2016, 03:28 PM
RE: shards in the water - by Cicero - March 22, 2016, 02:50 AM
RE: shards in the water - by Malice - March 23, 2016, 07:19 PM
RE: shards in the water - by Cicero - March 24, 2016, 03:30 AM