Lovesick Sweethearts (Cicero x Listener)

Preparing for The Worst

The bed chambers were quiet, soo quiet that it was easy to presume that no one was in the room, however that was wrong. A wood elf, hidden in that dark room, sat at a small circular table in one side of the room, his angular and defined face only being lit by a single wax candle. The candle was a faint yellow tint of sorts, it continued to burn to light up both the elf's face and the pages he turned with ease.

He was not alone in that room, next to him was another elf, a dark elf, she wore a black tunic, well-fitted, made from some rough leather and stitching, the black hood laid down the woman's back loosely with her chin resting carefully on her fingers like a bridge.

Her unique sparkling eyes only reflected as she glanced towards the male and the candle that danced before her.

"You mentioned on the outskirts of Winterhold that you don't seem to like the Falmar?" The dark elf asked whilst staring at the pile of unread books based on the lore of the forever-changed elves.

Enthir yawned, staring down at the books that seem to move by how much he's been staring at the small letters that almost didn't make sense to him. "They have taken plenty of my friends, they won't get sympathy from me, even if those things have lost everything".

His words seemed ironic as Enya thought back on her first arriving to Skyrim, the first city she managed to slither to was the city of Windhelm, Kingdom of the Stormcloaks. The city was wonderful to explore, however it felt as if the very city grew up with hatred against some sort of elven race; dark elves being discriminated on a daily basis and live in poverty, the high elves who are too poncy and mighty to even consider living in such a cold place aswell as there's not many wood elves there who one stated they still face judgement from the nords. As this is bad today, what happened to the people who turned into the Falmar seemed even sadder, worse part is the nords were involved.

Enya inquired about the history behind the Falmar who were once, the 'snow elves', a polar opposite to the high elves as they were high-class nobles except they lived in isolation away from society. That was until the legends say that the nords grew greedy and invaded to take their land, in sheer desperation, they went to the Dwarves who also betrayed then and wiped out the whole race.

Hearing Enthir point out his hatred towards a race who were forced to be what they are today was 'silly' to put it kindly. Enya grabbed a nearby book, it was not big but it was thin enough for her not to go crazy.

"You should take a break from reading, you haven't stopped since we got here" Enya glanced up from the book she held in her hands, Enthir is determined to clear Karliah's name, he knew what she was like, if anything he knows more about Karliah that Enya

"I should... relax... for a bit, I'm exhausted" Enthir leaned in to fold the corner of the book placed it to the side, a sigh of relief escaped his lips at the thought of taking a break.

"Go get any meals you missed out on from down the hall, take any rest you may need" she recommended, the male elf got up slowly, gripping the head of the chair to assist his balance before leaving the woman's chambers. As Enya set her sights on the paragraphs before her, neatly written out, in a small way, a discovery was made. The young elf enjoyed reading, not the kind of genre that she would learn information. A guilty pleasure of a thrilling story of battle, or anything gory, which is one of the reasons Enya was well-versed in matters regarding the Dark Brotherhood.

One of the first things she had learned in the first week of being trained to be an assassin was to know the Night Mother's chant, the chant that helps the client to speak to the Dark Brotherhood. When looking back to the past, Enya remembers her gentle innocent hands holding a sinister book, looking away to prevent actually reading it to see whether she had memorised it.