Blackfeather Woods eye of the beholder

It would not please his new King, Cicero knew, but Cicero had spirited himself away from Damien's den and taken a small rabbit's leg he had left from what Damien had most recently brought him. With the food in his mouth and hunger still clawing away at him, his ribs sticking out and his movements tedious and tired, Cicero made his way towards @Malice and @Burke 's den. He had never wanted for it to go down this way, dragged along in something he had no realisation was happening. He had realised it too late because of the state that he had been in, and now it was too late.

Cicero knew he needed to get to strength, and he felt — not out of ambition, for he had none, but out of necessity for his brother and for his pack — that he or someone alike him should stand beside Damien, someone that could be his voice of reason. Nemesis would only fuel his fire, and Cicero wondered if it had perhaps been a mistake to ever place her in a higher rank at all. Not because he disliked her, but because he could not gauge her, and in combination with Damien, an equally closed book and a firecracker herself. Alone, with an advisor by their side, they would have both been fine. But together? Cicero was not so sure that was a good idea. Yet he had not shared any of this with anyone — he had only told Damien that night that he had to know, in his heart, who should stand beside him. Yet if Damien could not admit his love for Cicero, or the depth it ran in, then how could he admit to himself that it would be wise to have a counterpart by his side?

Thoughts swarmed Cicero and he wished he had someone to spar with. Once at strength perhaps an outriding trip would be in order to clear his head. But what would happen in his absence? With the strict curfews that Damien had put upon Malice, there were other things far more present on Cicero's mind. He needed to find a way to protect Malice and her children, for he would not have Malice banished and her children taken for the Brotherhood's cause. One could only take and use what was rightfully theirs, and these children were not. Cicero did not think to receive much sympathy from Burke and Malice, but that did not mean that he no longer supported their cause.

Regardless of whether they would be friendly or hostile, they needed food and as he had done before, as what had gotten him to his disheveled state in the first place, Cicero decided it should be spared from his own mouth, for now.

As he arrived at their den with the rabbit's leg — it wasn't much, but he had eaten some of the rabbit and this he could spare without falling over himself — put down the leg and then chuffed to announce his presence.

Permission for PPing Burke doing Burky father thingies. Mar will jump in later (maybe?) Also, don't know when this takes place, though I assume present day? Correct me if I'm wrong.

After the terrible events of the birthday of her little ones, the haunting thought of Burke perhaps wanting to throw himself off a cliff spooked around in her mind. Was she to blame? Were they both to blame? Fate? Was it the pack as a whole that was in the wrong for having such complicated rules and a mourning process from here to Tokyo? Malice couldn't sleep anymore, could hardly think of anything lately, for she kept blaming herself. If only she had not fallen in love with Burke, betraying this whole group would've been easy. No, this was not her fault. It was all her mother- No, her father for picking such a terrible mate. But still... What if she had stayed at Lucifer Peak? Would she have died from a weird decease that no one could heal there? Would she have ended up as a female alpha? Would she have wanted the throne? These thoughts were killing her.

She opened her mouth as to say something to Burke, only to find him sleeping, protectively near the pups. She smiled at the sight, but frowned only moments later. She remembered her promise to him; she would make their children love him. But did he want her love as well? She desperately needed him by her side, if only for selfish reasons, and would probably die to protect both her children and Burke. But did he want her gone, now that she had ruined so much? Did he blame himself, too? Damn it, so many questions were driving her mad. She ran her dry tongue over her lips. She was thirsty, but leaving her pups...? They are with Burke, it will be alright. He will protect them.

Just as she wanted to get up, a soft chuff disrupted the silence that had only just been achieved by shutting up the squirming balls of fur. Great, they were crying again, how fricking wonderful. She rushed for the opening with a low growl, swearing to Saran she would kill the wolf outside if it was Damien. But no. Her yellow eyes, one forever squinting because of her scar, found the boney creature that somewhat resembled the appearance of Cicero. Oh God, was she the cause of this, too? Her hackles smoothing down, eyes adjusting to the light outside their den, she protected her children. The smell of meat soon became noticeable though, and now she was really confused.

Cicero? She breathed out with a dry mouth, her voice cracking here and there. Dear God... She had not yet witnessed the effect of the famine on one of her only... friends at the Dark Brotherhood, but damn did it look bad. A worried look settled upon the former dark ruler of Phantom Hollow, eyes drifting from what seemed to be a leg of a small prey animal to the thin bi-colored eyed boy. 

It was with a patience in his actions that Cicero sat down and awaited Malice's presence. He licked his lips and waited patiently for her to arrive. He did not feel the urge to eat the rabbit's leg; ironically, when one ate less, eating seemed to grow more and more difficult. The feelings of hunger remained, yet he still did not think he could eat the whole thing even if he wanted to. His throat just would not budge, it was as if he was unable to further process this much food.

A narrow smile fell across Cicero's face when Malice submerged from the den. He wondered what she were to think of him, for even though he liked her, he had supported Damien's cause. Not that it would have mattered much had he refused to support Damien and Nemesis' claim. Now he just hoped that whatever outcome was best for Malice, Burke and their children, that Cicero would be able to whisper it into Damien's ear easily, and that Nemesis would not deter him from that path. She was bad news, he felt, mostly because he knew so very little about her.

At Malice's exclamation, he shook his head, silently urging her not to worry, silently conveying that he would be fine. There were days, not long ago, that he thought he might die, but it seemed that he was past that stage now. "For the children," said Cicero and he nosed the rabbit's leg forward. It was not much, but it was something. And of course he meant it was for her — so that she could feed her children. "Cicero never meant for it to happen this way." The statement did not carry much regret. Words were spoken as though he was stating cold, hard facts rather than a personal opinion. Yet the past was in the past, but the future was wide open and there were surely opportunities yet in their favour.

Burke slowly woke up to then hear a familiar voice. He did not want anyone close but he could not really do anything with the pups nestled against him. They would grow cold and they would die. The large male let out a loud growl from the den, letting the other know that he did not appreciate that Cicero was so close. He had been a traitor too.

He couldn't really smell or know that he had brought a piece of meat. Then Burke might have been more willing to let him come close. Probably it was his sense of smell that wasn't improving. The male let out another growl, hoping that was enough of a threat that Cicero would back off.

Just as she was about to reply to the young boy who had gone out of his way, endangering his health more, to feed her and her pups. She had no words for his kindness. But Burke sure had his own reaction, for a low rumble left the den from behind her. She frowned. She could better get back there after drinking as fast as possible. I know, Cicero... She whispered to him, despite Burke complaining on the background. I do not blame you for what happened. You even tried to protect my young, and I thank you for that. She whispered after. To be honest; Cicero was probably the nicest wolf in the Brotherhood. Malice wondered why he even hung around here, since he was capable of leaving, but then she thought of Potema; He had family here.

With one paw, Malice shoved the leg closer to the den to make sure no one saw; Damien would probably try to slap her again if he saw this. Sorry, I'm very thirsty, do excuse me. She said in a voice that cracked at every corner. She licked her dry lips again, hoping to be excused by both males to get the drink she was so desiring.

Though he did not deserve them, Malice's words were warm to his weary heart. A smile briefly painted Cicero's features in silent gratitude, before a growl erupted from the densite. It was not unwarranted, truly, that he should be treated so. Cicero wished there had been another way, but he had not had the strength to see what was going on. Not until it was too late.

Malice excused herself and although Cicero would have enjoyed spending a bit more time in her company, he nodded in silent understanding. Before she departed for a drink, he shot her a glance which was laced with emotion, showing that whatever would happen, he would make sure they would remain unharmed; he would help them, if need be.

And then it was just him and the anger inside of the den. There was little left to say, except: "It is harder to face betrayal from a friend than an enemy." He was not sure the words would bring anything but more pain, would do anything but to tear the scab from the barely healed wounds upon Burke's soul. "If it helps, Burke can hurt Cicero." Because he knew that... "It usually helps." Mismatched eyes stared into the darkness of the den, awaiting for Burke to arise, whether with snapping teeth or not.

Cicero understood this was not anything that could be fixed, but the least he could do was help Burke let off some steam. Regain some of his control. He thought back to the ruddy wolf on the mountain, wondered how she fared now. Wondered if it'd helped. If this'd help.

Burke listened to their conversation as far as he could hear it from the den. His body closely curled around their young. Burke was quite the father if he committed himself. If Burke would commit he would give his all.

Malice went for a drink, which left Cicero with him. His ears flattened as he heard the voice closer. The male stated the obvious. Of course betrayal was the worst from friends. The male was even 'kind' enough to offer him a free pass in hurting him. "Don't make a fool of me now, Cicero," Burke rumbled. Because the previous alpha knew that if Cicero would get hurt Damien would officially kill him in return. He was not falling for that trap.

"You took the side of your brother and what ever more he means to you. Don't play two sides of a card, you might get cut," Burke spoke from the den. He kept his eyes on the entrance because if Cicero would enter Burke would attack. He had no remorse or feeling for the multicolored boy. All was too fresh and Burke was still hurting.

It did not occur to Cicero that any problems might arise if anyone hurt him. He'd been hurt before. He liked being hurt. Didn't everyone already know this? Yet Burke's words clarified that perhaps he overestimated those that stood beside him. Cicero said: "Cicero never wanted it this way, but there was nothing he could do when it happened. It was too late. He should have seen earlier. And perhaps he should have done something. Should have tried." He often felt like that; an observer, able to look on, but unable to make a difference to anything that played out in the world. Yet he understood that Burke would not trust him again. There was no sadness in his voice, no indication he felt the victim — he did not — because it was understandable that Burke would never look onto him the same. That was simply the way of the world. He had lost the trust of many as time had passed, even though he was fairly consistent in his being.

The only thing that one could know for sure about Cicero was that he would never do what one expected him to do. Even Damien hadn't yet figured him out.

A smile tugged at the frays of Cicero's lips as Burke used a metaphor. He would miss that, when they were gone, in both Burke and Malice. There was a sadness lingering in his eyes as Cicero said: "Maybe Cicero enjoys being cut." Was it for that reason that he had sought to stand by Damien's side in the end? He had not, truly, had tried to diffuse the situation but understood there were too many standing on the other side. Yet by not choosing a side he had chosen the victor's side ultimately, had chosen the side which had the most wolves on it already. It was disgusting, truly, to think about what he had become — but what could he do now?

Nothing but move forward. Yet it was the words of Burke that stuck to him the most that weren't part of the metaphor he played. "I love Damien," he admitted after a pregnant pause. Cicero didn't know if Damien would ever return his affections, but he would stand by his side regardless.

Always.

Burke could appreciate Cicero's play with words but now he was not in the mood. His own wounds were too fresh and Burke wondered if he was ever going to see this male different. If he was ever getting over this betrayal. The male let out a long sigh. "I know you do Cicero. I know you do. I understand you chose for him and not for me. But that doesn't make it any easier to swallow," he spoke in return to the male from the den.

Burke wondered if Damien even returned that love, if Damien was even capable of love. The male just curled more around his young. "I'd like you to leave now. It happened and even though you might not wanted this to happen you chose a side, and that is enough information for me," he stated dismissing the other wolf that he had always enjoy as company before. Now Burke rather had Malice as company, one that hadn't betrayed him... yet.

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.