Awake

Chapter Six: Horseplay

Chapter 6: Horseplay

Tressa opened the Sanctuary door, the icy ocean mist reaching her already, encrusting the lens of her mask.

Damn Dawnstar.

Sure, a nearly uninhabitably cold coast, in the middle of nowhere, in an already nowhere country, probably was the most ideal place to secret a secret Sanctuary…but, damn did she miss Falkreath’s more timid climate.
She regretted ever begrudging the mud.

She swiped away the ice and was thankful Cicero wasn’t immediately in her field of vision, jump scaring her for the hundredth time, to prove a point about her often obstructed view.
He wasn’t there to torment her this time. Though even if he was, even with her full expectation of him to be, he still would have managed to startle her.

He, instead, was closer to the cold beach, leaned back against a rock, staring up at the pinkish glow of the dawning sun persisting through the icy mist. A slow tune whistled from his lips.

He either heard the Sanctuary door open or sensed the added presence, as his eyes quickly fell upon Tressa.

“Oh!” he snapped to attention, “You’ve finally come out! Cicero has missed you terribly so. It’s been such a long, cruel absence without you.”

“Ha. Ha-ha. Ha,” Tressa slowly and sarcastically laughed.
She approached, looking about a moment before asking, “…Where’s Kor?”

Swear to Sithis, if Cicero’s already gutted the boy and stashed him behind that rock…

Cicero motioned with his thumb to beyond the outcrop of rock that blocked their Sanctuary, towards the town of Dawnstar.

“Cicero sent him to get a horse of his own,” the jester said.

“Of his own?” Tressa repeated, “Oh come on, Cicero, he can at least ride in the cart with—”
“Summon Shadowmere.”
“Nooo.”

“Yes, my Listener,” Cicero responded, his tone demanding.

He folded his arms and turned to her fully, “You need to learn how to ride a horse. The sneaky-cutty-killer of a Listener can’t keep relying on public carts with her line of work, you know.”

Tressa folded her arms the same as the jester, and the jester seemed to know she was pouting like a child under that mask.

“No worries, littler one,” he said, a cheeky smile upon his lips and he patted the top of her head, “Cicero will teach you without ridicule.”

Tressa frantically swatted at his patting hand.

“Oh, do not start our day like this,” she blew with irritation.

The merryman chuckled, but his face soon fell to that unmerry seriousness of his, and he said once again, “Summon Shadowmere”.

Tressa stood stubborn for a moment, but finally relented.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “But you need to come off this habit of bossing me around. You’re not my real mother…”

She concentrated, remembering the whispers that echo loud in the nothingness, and she called upon that supernatural beast, awakening it from its rest in the void.

Tressa may be hesitant to ride this creature, but she did adore his dramatic entries.

His thundering hooves and his distant neigh could be heard drawing near, as a dark cloud of smoke materialized from the very air.