"Sithis, my love, what a pleasure it is to see you," the Night Mother remarked, sensually. "And what an interesting form you are assuming."
"It is because of the mortal," Sithis replied, gesturing to Clarice. "You know that if I was to show myself to her, her feeble, human mind would explode." the skeletal figure looked around slowly, a black smoke hovering about him. There seemed to be somewhat of a constant hissing coming from the back of her mind, as though he made the sound, but was not physically making the sound. Instead, he was only producing the noise directly into her brain, rather than sending it into her ear first, to the thalamus, then into the brain. "Hmmm. It seems, Mother, that you are having an issue with dimensions."
"Clearly," the Night Mother replied, sighing. "It was the Hagraven, my Lord. I don't know how it managed to send my Keeper and me through time and space, but we found ourselves trapped on this crusty, filthy dimension."
"Yes, I noticed this…" Sithis said, sighing. He crossed his skeletal arms. "Well, I'm assuming that is why I am here."
"I would very much appreciate it, my love, if you would bring my Keeper and me back home," the Night Mother insisted.
Sithis glanced to the Night Mother for a moment, before chuckling lightly. He shook his skull. "I'm afraid I cannot do that. You see, I could tell you how to get home, but I cannot bring you myself. I can only transport souls, Mother. Besides, I don't have time for that; I need to pay the Shivering Isles a visit this evening – Sheogorath invited me to tea. Crazy fool."
"Well, then tell me what we need to do," Clarice could sense some agitation growing in the Night Mother's voice.
If this person was like the God back in Tamriel, was he the God of her world as well? Clarice shook her head, sighing. She was not much of a religious person, but seeing this "God", and after Cicero speaking constantly about his beloved Gods, perhaps there was some sort of inter-dimensional omniscient being governing over all of them. But if this thing really was God, then was there a heaven? And if there was a heaven, could he possibly bring Wanda back?
"Well, you must reopen the portal back to Tamriel," Sithis replied, grinning smugly. "You know I can't give away too much. It would ruin the story."
"And how do we do this?" the Night Mother said, stiffly.
"Tell me about how you have been feeling, recently," Sithis remarked, watching the corpse of the Night Mother. Clarice could only assume that he was really seeing the Mother how she truly was in spirit – the same way Clarice had seen her in her dream.
The Night Mother paused. Clarice could feel the venom in her dead stare. "…How I have been feeling? What in the Void are you talking about, Sithis."
"You can't tell me you have not been feeling it. If so, I'm worried about your competence anymore, Mother. You may be growing old."
Immediately, with those words, the room filled with anger and thick tension. It reminded Clarice of the bickering of an old, married couple. Clearly, he knew how to push her buttons, and she reacted just as he anticipated. If it wasn't a God and a… Whatever the Night Mother was, she probably would have snickered at their argument, but the consequences could be far too extreme to risk a chuckle.
Then, the Mother paused. "You mean… The darkness? I thought that was just something in this world."
"It didn't feel at all familiar to you, Mother?" Sithis replied, grinning.
"I felt it through the door the other day," the Night Mother continued. "I knew it was something I recognised. You don't think…"
Sithis sneered broadly, the taut muscles on his skull pulling back, contorting into a humanoid expression, looking even more sinister than he had. Slowly, the skull nodded.
"That's… Interesting." the Night Mother replied. "What do you think it wants? Has it not done enough already?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Sithis raised a skeletal finger, and wiggled it side to side, as if to taunt her. His voice echoed in Clarice's mind, like a bell being rung in her brain. "Spoilers. All you need to do is convince it to send you back. Sounds easy enough, right?" Sithis laughed, cruelly.
"So, why is it here? I mean, how did it get here?" the Mother asked.
"Same way as you. You see, it knew the ultimate way to get back at the Dark Brotherhood for trying to kill it, was to remove you completely. It didn't mean to remove your Keeper as well. It wanted to see where it sent you, of course. It was trying to channel Oblivion, but it found this place instead. And as curious as those Hagravens are, since they are the epitome of curiosity gone wrong, they decided to follow you in. Only it knows how to get back, since it is just waiting to finish messing with you before it decides to go home. You need to convince it to take you and your Keeper with it." Sithis explained.
"I don't even know how to contact it," the Night Mother said, more to herself than to Sithis.
"Well, that's easy," Sithis said, before he glanced to Clarice, who was still on the floor, watching him.
When the hollow sockets where eyes should be were staring at her, she felt the hair on her body lift off her skin. She felt as though Sithis's skeletal fingers were exploring her, underneath her flesh, making her feel cold. She looked back to the Night Mother, worried. Suddenly, she felt as though the corpse behind her really was some sort of mother figure, sheltering her, keeping her safe from the Dread Lord. For the first time since she's seen this well-oiled corpse, she felt warm in her presence, and safe from what was in front of her.
"What is he talking about..?" Clarice said, her voice almost a frightened whimper.
"Ah, it still speaks!" Sithis laughed. "I had almost forgotten you had a mouth."
"Stop it, Sithis," the Mother warned. "Don't frighten her. She may be a mortal from a foreign world, but she's still my Listener, and therefore she is my daughter."
"Ah, how protective you are of your… children. It's no wonder they call you their mother," Sithis regarded the mortal woman sitting on the floor below the Night Mother's casket carefully, still grinning slightly. "Here's incentive for you, mortal. Remember your beloved friend? The one who was killed in this very apartment? The same darkness of which we speak is what stole her life."
Clarice sat forward, eyes wide. "Can you bring her back? If you are the God of the Void, is her soul not there? Can you bring her back to me?"
Sithis laughed and gave her a pitiful smile. "Oh, how you plead, simple mortal. No, I cannot bring her back. Her body is far too detached and already too dead to return her soul to it. I could, however, allow a final goodbye between you two. Not right now, of course. I have to go looking for her, and imagine what that is like – searching through a void of billions of trillions of souls for one measly mortal. But, of course, you'll have to play the bait in order to lure the creature that brought them here, back to this exact room. Oh, and you don't have much time."
Clarice frowned. "Why not? Is something else coming?"
"So to speak," Sithis shrugged. He then sneered down at her. "But, again, spoilers. I'll just tell you that they are coming for you, to ask a few questions to which you do not have the answers. You're about to put your beloved jester and his Mother in jeopardy. Unintentionally, of course."
"Why the darkness, my Lord?" the Night Mother asked him. "I have never heard of such a cloaking spell."
"Well, if you can believe it, it stole Boethiah's Ebony Mail from the Dragonborn," Sithis laughed.
Cicero sat on the floor in front of the door, ear pressed against the painted, faux wood. Every once in a while, he would hear Clarice mention something, but other than that, he did not hear anyone else in the room. It sounded as though Clarice was going as insane as he was. He could not hear much of what she was saying, but a few key words she spoke every once in a while, he could understand. Suddenly, he heard Clarice say a single sentence that made his eyes widen, followed by the overwhelming urge to burst through the door.
"The Dragonborn?" Clarice said to Sithis. "You mean the Listener? Is she alive?"
Sithis's head jerked upwards, before he grinned. Suddenly, behind him, the portal orb began to swell, dark purple and black light filling the room as it expanded behind the Dread Lord.
"Well, it's time for me to go," Sithis said, backing slowly into the bulging portal. "Your little Keeper is about to burst through the door any second. Figure it out, Listener. I will be back once you are ready."
With that, the manifestation of the Void began to contort into the portal, and disappear. Clarice watched it in awe, feeling both Sithis's and the Mother's presences leave her mind. Just as the portal finally began to shrivel and disappear, she heard the door thrust open. The moment the door was completely open, and the jester fell into the room, the void had fully disappeared.
Cicero stood there, at the threshold of the door, eyes wide. He paused for a moment, before leaping away from the door, and stumbling to Clarice, who was still sitting on the floor, in slight shock. He collapsed beside her, and took her face in his, squeezing her cheeks together, causing her lips to purse. His gaze was frantic and excited as he looked her over briefly to make sure she was alright.
"What happened?" Cicero exclaimed. "Who was in here?"
"Apparently, we shubboned Shithish," she said, speaking through her lips jutting forward.
Cicero tilted his head to the side. "What?"
Clarice moved her head away from Cicero's hands, and rubbed her cheeks gingerly. "We summoned Sithis. He told us that there is something here that can bring you back, but he couldn't-"
"Wait, Sithis was here?" Cicero said, eyes wide. "In my apartment? The Dread Lord, here, just having a simple conversation with you? …Did he mention capering?"
"It is the thing that sent you here in the first place," he said, disregarding his last question. "The Hagraven. It's here, and it is the only thing that knows how to get back. We need to find it and lure it here so we can get it to take you home."
Cicero listened closely, sitting beside her. He nodded as she spoke, in an attempt to fully understand what she was telling him. After she finished speaking, he stood, and extended his hands to her. She looked to them, perplexed for a brief moment, before taking his hands and lifting herself onto her feet. He guided her out of the room, closing the door to the room behind himself, after smiling kindly to the Night Mother. He then led her into the living room, and she paused, eyes wide, in the opening of the living room.
All the lights were off in the entire apartment. Instead, it was all lit with the thousands of candles he had in his house, upon every surface, drenching the area in wax. On the table, sat a beer, a martini, and a rum and Coke, all reflecting the tiny dots of light upon the sweating glass. He guided her towards the couch, where he gently placed her down. He smiled and sat beside her, gesturing to the drinks in front of her. She felt immensely relaxed in this state, and the exhaustion that filled her before the ordeal with Sithis returned to her. She eyed the martini.
"Just relax for a bit, Clarice," he insisted, laying her back. "Cicero knows how tired you are."
"What's with the martini?" she asked, watching it.
Cicero shrugged. "Cicero knows how much his Listener loved drinking beer while her friend drank martinis. He's going to try and drink one for you, so you don't miss your friend too much."
Clarice immediately felt her eyes hurt as tears filled their ducts. She looked to him, smiling slightly, as her eyes filled and spilled over the edge. Cicero's own eyes widened and he seemed to become worried. He lifted his hand to catch the tear upon his thumb before it could fall too far.
"Are you okay?" he said, concerned.
"Yeah," Clarice sniffed and laughed slightly in spite of herself. "Of course I am. This is so wonderful, Cicero. I don't know how to thank you."
He shook his head, smiling. "Don't. Cicero did this for you so you could enjoy it and relax. You're doing all this for him and his beloved Mother… You deserve this."
Clarice sighed, and leaned her head onto Cicero's shoulder. He was slightly taken aback for a moment, looking down at her with slight surprise, but when he heard her sigh with comfort and relaxation, he smiled and became comfortable with her. He stroked her hair gently, breathing gently into the follicles. Feeling him close to her made her feel as though there was no reason to worry about anything. It soothed her. His simple presence was enough to make her feel at home in a pair of arms. He wanted to be close to him.
"What I said before," she said quietly, watching a candle flicker. "When you almost killed me… I said I cared about you. I wasn't just saying that so you would let me go, you know."
He smiled into her hair, and closed his eyes. "I know." He told her. "Cicero is sorry for putting you in that position."
She positioned herself so she was laying her back against his chest, horizontal on the sofa, nestled between his legs. He held her in his arms as she laid her head back onto the front of his shoulder. Both entities sighed, comfortably. She closed her eyes.
"Cicero…?" she said, her voice low. "You said your past wasn't interesting. …Do you even remember it?"
Cicero paused for a moment, looking over her to one of the flickering candles. The light danced within his bright eyes and he examined the fragile flame closely. "It comes back, sometimes. I… Remember joining the Brotherhood. I remember seeing the Mother for the first time. But… Cicero doesn't remember if he had parents, or siblings, other than those at the Brotherhood. Sometimes, he doesn't even remember the faces of his brothers and sisters from the Brotherhood. Everything after the Jester, he remembers. He took the Jester for himself as a trophy. My suit… It was his. I was glad to know him… But I don't remember his face. I don't think I ever knew his name. Everything before the jester and the laughing… Cicero forgets it."
She turned her head slightly to look up at him. His face was contorted into an expression that reflected his inner conflicts. His eyebrows were knitted together, his frown deep. With this expression, his age seemed to show through. Normally, he did look quite youthful, despite his incredibly deep laugh lines and those tiny crow's feet and smile marks. But when he was upset, or confused, his age really shone through. His visage seemed to sink, his eyes lost their glow. The moment he noticed that she was looking at him, his face quickly returned into a youthful smile. He pressed his lips lightly against her forehead and sighed into her skin, closing his eyes. She closed hers as well, calming herself. He needed to go home. She knew he wasn't happy here… But, oh, how she would miss him.
When she opened her eyes again, he was laying alone on Cicero's sofa. She looked out the window behind her, and found bright light pouring into the apartment. She smiled slightly to herself, remembering how comfortable she was when she fell asleep. For the first time in a long while, she felt well rested when she awoke. Her neck was stiff and sore, however. She eyed her coat lying across a chair a ways away from her, knowing that her high dose of ibuprofen was in there, waiting for her. She groaned as she moved in the couch, carefully bringing herself to her feet.
The apartment smelled of bacon and foods cooking. She smiled at the thought of a freshly cooked breakfast, something she hadn't experienced since she last spent a night at Wanda's home. The underlying tones of baking bread wafted into her olfactory glands, stimulating her stomach to turn hungrily. She shuffled towards her coat. As she moved, she heard Cicero's voice engaged in a one-sided conversation, probably with the Mother again. She paused at the closed door to the Mother's chamber, and listened closely.
"I don't know if I can go home without her, Mother," Cicero's voice said. "But Cicero doesn't think the Listener wants to come. She has said she cares about me… I don't know what to do. Cicero has never been in this position before… He's never felt like this, Mother. You must have these feelings for the Dread Lord, right, Mother?" Clarice heard the Night Mother snort. "Cicero doesn't know what to do…" Cicero sighed. "I don't know what to do."
Clarice frowned, listening to him. She didn't realise that, by confessing her feelings for him, that she was causing him an even more excruciating inner conflict. She was not aware that she was hurting him. She reached for her coat, but instead of inserting her hand into her coat pocket, she just grabbed the entire thing, and pulled it on. She paused for a moment, staring at the door, contemplating her actions. She knew, however, what she needed to do. She had to give him time to regulate his emotions and internal struggles. She nodded to herself, before walking out of the apartment.
She drove home, not necessarily feeling poorly about what had transpired. On one hand, she finally knew that the lengthy story Cicero had provided a long time ago, was completely true. There was a Night Mother, there was a Sithis, there was a Dark Brotherhood and a Tamriel, and his home that he needed to go back to. She wasn't sure why she was so comfortable with this situation; she just experienced an epiphany that assured her of an afterlife, of Gods, and of other dimensions. For some reason, she was comfortable with it. There were bigger things to worry about than her own interpretation of the new world she was subjected to. She felt like writing a book.
Then there was Cicero himself: the silly little madman who she fell so madly for. She was immensely conflicted with the fact that she did feel incredibly strongly for him, and she knew she would miss him far too much if she was to never see him again. On the other hand, she couldn't just up and leave her life. There were things she needed to take care of back on Earth. She couldn't just run from it.
"There's something I haven't seen in far too long," a voice suddenly came from beside her.
Clarice screamed and almost drove directly into a ditch lining the street. She turned her head quickly, and paused, eyes wide, when she saw the blue, opaque figure of her best friend sitting in the passenger's seat.
"W-Wanda?" she said, hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel.
"Hey, sup," she said, grinning. "You're looking very different from how you have been recently. Something I haven't seen in a long time. You look happy."
"How… What…" she stumbled over her words, trying to keep her eyes on the road, but also glancing to the spectre beside her.
"I was pulled out of… Wherever I was," Wanda said, with a smile. "I was given the chance to say goodbye."
