Blackfeather Woods eye of the beholder

It was odd, how much the words hurt him and yet at the same time how he felt nothing at all. Like an onlooker, incapable of feeling anything. Desperately searching for his next fix. He had offered for Burke to attack him, to hurt him, for it helped. Yet was it truly for Burke or were there more selfish reasons at play?

It had been long since the beast had surfaced, but now he was reminded of it. Now he knew why part of him was wounded, because Cicero knew that he could have chosen better, could have been with Burke -- yet the unfeeling part of him knew that at his core, he was a dark being. He was incapable of being reliable for there was a dark beast that lived inside of him, ready to surface at any time. He had no control over it, even if he tried to literally beat it down. And so, no matter how much he wanted it so, Cicero knew that he would never be reliable in the way that he wanted. Perhaps it was easier simply to accept that he was a wretched being who would always hurt those around him, whether he was Cicero or Sheogorath.

He inhaled, took a deep breath as though in an attempt to feel something real -- anything -- and nodded. Maybe he would have told Burke about Sheogorath, a secret he carried with him that was aching to claw it's way out, but the man's request was clear. The least Cicero could do was honour his wishes. "Bye, Burke." He unceremoniously turned away, not sure if @Malice was near enough so that he may say good bye to her, too. For even though they were prisoners Cicero was sure that they would no longer be such in the foreseeable future.