An illustrated Skyrim story beyond the fall of the Dark Brotherhood~
After a surreal event, Cicero is inexplicably thrown back into a clear state of mind and his memories from his life prior to his madness return. We begin to learn who he really is...
Still reeling from the confrontation with Sage, Cicero quickly made his way to the main hall and took a seat at the dining table to try and calm his nerves. He was so heated that he hadn't even noticed Tripp sitting across from him. Cicero had not seen much of the other three Ancient Blood in the last few months. Their training with Wrath must have been intensive.
The Khajiit sipped from a cup and lightly nodded, "Tripp can tell that the Knower has a lot on his mind, yes?"
Cicero ran his hand down his face not wanting to talk about what had just transpired, "I've not been sleeping well. I've been having stressful dreams."
"Oh... This one is intrigued," he purred, "Much can be learned from dreams. What are they telling you?"
"I don't think I could explain it clearly. It changes a bit every time..."
"A reoccurring dream? Fascinating. Perhaps someone is trying to tell the Knower something? Perhaps the message is lost in translation." Tripp poured him a drink from a silver flagon and slid the cup across the table.
"I've got more important things to focus on at the moment," Cicero mumbled and took the cup, glancing down into it, "Just another distraction as far as I'm concerned."
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"Trauma, both physical and emotional, is easier to heal when exposed to the air. Open up, my friend. Many webs of truth can be unwound if one chooses to seek peace."
"What are you, some sort of philosopher?"
"Ha!" Tripp exclaimed with delight, "This one merely observes others. Tripp can tell that the Knower is more than just one who holds much knowledge. He also holds much despair."
Cicero huffed and rolled his eyes before taking a sip of the beverage.
"It is not shameful to admit that one is sad," the Khajiit continued, "Tripp doesn't just drink because he is happy with his life."
"What do you have to be sad about? You've only been in a mortal body for a few months," Cicero sighed as he spun the liquid around in his cup.
"This vessel has many unfortunate memories, friend. They are now Tripp's to bear... but it seems to this one that a lot of what weighs Cicero down is not his to carry."
Cicero lifted his eyes to meet his, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Stop taking on the pain of others. There's enough in the Knower's heart to fill the Void itself."
Silence passed between them. Cicero looked back down at the drink in his hand. His reflection in the liquid was warped but he could still see the healing cuts on his face from the event in Whiterun a few weeks back. Why did that happen?
"I miss her," he finally said. The words burned a little upon his lips. Hearing himself say it out loud was both painful and relieving at the same time.
