Meadowlark Prairie No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold

He was quick to withdraw and crouch when she snapped at him again, making himself small and playing the role that he had assumed to perfection, fully immersed into it. "Inari," Cicero lied in answer — he enjoyed the moniker of Inari and so, he reasoned, he may as well take his name after taking his dignity. In some ways he felt guilty for the way he had abused the boy and was using his identity even now, but Cicero had learned that the strong ruled the world, and somehow being humiliated by Sheogorath and the white wolf had left him with an appetite for control over weaker beings.

He knew his place — she was no weaker being to him, at least not physically. Just as Cicero began to think that the plants he had added to the meat held no effects whatsoever, she was starting to show effects. With piqued interest, Cicero dared look up at her for the first time, partially shedding the role of Inari and reverting to his own identity, to Cicero. "What do you mean? What's wrong with you?" he asked, perhaps a little too eager to know, his role overshadowed by his own personality for the moment.