Blackfeather Woods the eyes of the dragon

Sheogorath had not been far, for he wanted to be sure that his task was carried out. Ideally he would have watched the whole thing, but he knew that his closeness might ruse suspicion. Considering her small size, she needed every advantage she could get. He came when he heard the screams as they eerily echoed through the woods, hearing her pain as she tore out the last pieces of her soul and replaced them with the coldness that the Brotherhood required. It was her wish, not his, that she became this way. She wanted no more hurt, and she wanted it through accessing the Dark Brotherhood. He provided an opening.

By the time he arrived, he first laid eyes upon the now dead body of her mate, the one he had ordered killed. A satisfied grin fell across his face, but soon his eyes fell upon her mutilated face. His face twisted into a disgruntled sneer at first, for he had hoped the mother of his future children to be a bit less unsightly. Then it turned and a grin fell across his face as he said with a void that was eerily void of emotion: "If you wanted to be hurt that badly, you could've just asked." His tongue clicked against the back of his teeth in thoughtful gesture while he considered what her new name should be after she had recovered from... this. He had promised, after all.

Sheogorath walked slowly, ghostly, past the corpse of Terich-Mir to stand alongside her body. He did not hear what she murmured. "I understand the delicate pleasures that all-consuming pain can bring, but if you want to enjoy it a bit longer, we will have to teach you some better manners." He leaned to nip roughly at her ear, not even sure if he was playing with a corpse or a being that was yet to be salvaged. She did not seem very present and he murmured in her ear, "Don't worry, I won't let you slip away before we enjoy ourselves a bit more..." He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth before he decided — "... Relmyna." Not much like Vuk, but the name seemed fitting, somehow. A few haphazard strokes of his tongue were placed along her broken, bloodied muzzle. As though suddenly growing bored with this task, Sheogorath swiftly moved to click his teeth around her scruff and he started to drag her body away, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he brought her somewhere safe; somewhere he could bring her herbs that would heal her; somewhere he could take the fragile pieces of her mind and build them up into something of his liking.