Losers Weepers (Cicero x Gender-Neutral Reader)

All is quiet as a graveyard in Falkreath, where you have returned to as per request of your college. Luckily for you, Falkreath is the city in which you were raised, so the thick silence of the dead is not so much a bother to you as it is to visitors. Sent back in order to conduct a study, your father's inn awaits you with warm bread and open arms, but he warns that an entity that has stalked the peripherals of the town folk since the announcement of your imminent arrival seems to not be so amicable...

The bar staff suspects that this "ghost" is trying to get an idea of everyone's schedules before it attempts anything. The children have nicknamed the lurking figure "the jingling boy". But your father's keen senses, honed by decades of housing the various men and mer of Tamriel, point towards a more sinister agenda.

With all of the hold aware of your presence in the City of the Dead, and an old enemy in town, who's to say that someone doesn't have it out for you?

The thought brings you little anxiety, until the bell-donning shade emerges from the shadowy corner of your private study, led by the dusky glean of an ebony blade.