Blackfeather Woods It's always been you

@Damien pls

After Cicero had cared for him Damien had come from the depths of the mazes of Blackfeather Woods, but he was not the same. He remained as he had been, often indecipherable and incoherent, no matter the support he tried to give. Cicero did not remember what Sheogorath had done, if he had done anything, so he could only try to fill in what happened. Or simply accept things were as they were and his brother was as he was now, and move on from there, pragmatic as he always had been.

But still Damien was his everything, his world — Cicero had to admit the day the pups were born he had felt something, a spark, but it was not like what Damien was to him still. He did not care if his brother would never reciprocate his love for him; that was not his goal, that was never his goal. He only wished that his brother would at least accept the love he offered. Even if it would never be returned, then he would stand by his brother's side. Always.

He had been following the scent trail and ragged ears perked forward as he looked into the darkness of the forest ahead. He was coming closer. "Brother? I have brought food for you," he offered. A rabbit carcass was slung over his shoulder, dangling with every step. Damien had not been well enough to take care of himself in some time, so he had, as soon as he had returned from the trip to the beast's side. Now he seemed to be getting better at caring for himself, but Cicero wanted to be sure he ate well, still...

You think you can fool me with a smile and a snack, brother? spoke a ragged voice from the darkest corner of the chamber. Damien had been expecting his brother, having gotten used to his daily visits and attentions already, but Cicero's true face could never be unseen. Damien had known it, the demon that was his brother, so easily concealed by his caregiver act. But it did not fool him, not Damien, not anymore.

Am I supposed to trust you now? Should I eat this and expect it isn't poisoned or adulterated so you can gut me while I'm knocked out? he chuckled, coughed and then spat to his left with disdain. It had been Cicero who'd managed to break through the highest walls around Damien's heart, and once inside, burned everything to the ground.

A sad smile befell his face as he watched Damien's lack of trust towards him. He wished there was something he could do to fix what Sheogorath had broken, but he knew he could not, for reasons very plain to see even for his brother (who wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed at all times). He was Sheogorath, he was the beast, and in that, he would never be able to escape what the beast had done. What, exactly, that was to Damien, Cicero did not know. He held no memory of it, as he held no memory of many of the things the beast did.

Ragged ears pressed forward as he found Damien and tossed the food towards him. "No," he answered in reply to his first question, words blunt and harsh, voice void of any emotion. His face was blank, as it always was — when Sheogorath was not housing him — and he thought it strange and ironic in ways that Damien would mention him smiling. He had not smiled in a long time, except perhaps when in pain. Even less so these days. Even less so after what he'd done to his sister. After the beast...

"You should not trust Cicero," he answered plainly, for once feeling like their roles were turned and it was Damien asking the riddle-filled questions and he trying to wrestle control back. "For even Cicero does not know when the beast Sheogorath may surface again. Oh, brother... What have I —" He stopped in his tracks, eyes widening briefly as fear grasped at his throat; "— has he done to you?" Ragged ears folded back and a glimmer of sadness was upon his face, though quickly replaced by a stoic defeat once more.