Blackfeather Woods slow motion

Sheogorath had hoped that helping with the pups would have increased Potema's trust in him. He had protected them from Nemesis, from her brood, and he had helped move them when winter was harsh. But when he arrived he realised that the damage done must have been worse than he thought. There was nothing that could not be repared, though.

"Hello, sister," he said, a smile slipping onto his face. It was a smile uncharacteristic of Cicero these days, perhaps, but it was one that he had often held as a child. One that his sister had once missed on his face. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened. What Xan told you."

He looked at the pups, giving her a chance to put them out of hearing range if they wished, though he didn't think they were old enough to remember or pick up most of the words, anyway. After this brief silence in which he made sure no one else was in hearing distance he continued: "It's... Complicated, more than what he told you — Cicero told you." He looked at her with a frown that denoted some form of sympathy and worry. He knew that Cicero feared him, so what would be better than to make his own sister think it was the other way around?

He looked up at Potema, the worried frown still on his face as he spoke again. "It was someone else who hurt me, who did what Cicero told you about. He just... Thinks it was Xan, but I never wanted..." He looked away, ashamed, or pretending to be, anyway; he was a scout, a spy, an observer and, in the most freakiest of ways, an empath. He just chose not to use his empathy for good.