Blackfeather Woods i'm never changing who i am

Though it had been hard days' work of late, Cicero did not mind; he enjoyed working for his pack, and he enjoyed practising and refining the techniques of manipulation. Besides, he had had some interesting encounters and the pain from his wounds made him feel alive. Cicero wondered idly what poisons would do in his present state. What would they do if they were rubbed across an open wound, if he peeled off the scabs? And would ingesting poisons make his pain worse in his present state, or would it be the same?

He was distracted by Burke commanding him to rest, and he nodded. A smile tugged at his lips as Burke mentioned his ascention into the brotherhood; though this particular goal was more one of Sheogorath's than his own, Cicero was glad for it anyway. He longed to see Damien again, yet he did not ask for his brother. He hoped that the time Damien needed would soon be over, that they would be able to sleep side by side once more with intermingled furs and noses gingerly touching. Ah, another might have thought it unwise to have ever told Damien of his love, to ever have enticed him into the game of lust that they were playing now, but Cicero did not think it so. He would have forever regretted it had he not made his move and had he not engulfed Damien in the storm that his brother was battling right now. Eventually he would come afloat, whether it was with or without Cicero, but regardless of his choices, Cicero would be by his side. Always.

"Yes," Cicero said when Burke suggested something to eat. Silvertip would have to wait, for now. Cicero would follow Burke to a nearby cache, so he presumed, while he asked, "How has Damien been?" It sounded like an offhanded question, but there was an edge to his voice that betrayed the depth of his care for his brother and the fact that this was not just an offhanded question, though he tried to cleverly cloak it as one.