Blackfeather Woods shambles

His reaction was much like hers when he came around the corner. He remembered her, remembered their meeting at one of the mountains to the west of the Woods, when he had journeyed. He'd probably not gotten as wounded before as she had when she clicked, but he also remembered that he had given her permission to, in a way. Let off a little steam. Now she was here, not by his hand but at the same time in part by his hand. He wondered if Sheogorath had made her trust him because they had met before, but then, she'd never trusted him from what he remembered. Not even when he had risked his life to let her unwind on that mountain. It was questionable how this situation had come to be and a part of him regretted it, but he felt that there was little he could change about it right now.

"The girl with the issues is here," he said, a statement filled with some sort of sentiment — regret, perhaps — but he knew any of his emotions would be lost upon her. He examined her briefly, his face remaining neutral and void of emotion; a stark contrast to the wicked faces of Sheogorath. She looked in poor shape. "Cicero never knew your name," he said, one ragged ear perking forward briefly in question, although he doubted she would give it now. "What happened? How did I —" He halted abruptly, swallowing the word as soon as he had spat it out. "— How did Sheogorath bring you here?"