Trudging through the woodlands, Cat and Cicero enter a clearing that appears decent enough to make camp. Prior to their hike, the two made a brief stop at the Falkreath Sanctuary to gather traveling supplies. Cicero had yet another fight with Astrid. Pulling rank, she forbade them from traveling to Volunruud. Such was a vain attempt to assert her dominance over the whereabouts of any Dark Brotherhood member. Cicero had none of it – he was determined to go. As he and Cat exited the Sanctuary, Astrid called after the two of them, banning the pair from ever returning to Falkreath. Cicero was not as upset over it as he thought he would be. He knew it was coming, and luckily for the Wanderer's sake, it did not end in bloodshed. Regrettably, however, Cicero would have liked to shed Astrid's blood – wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Such was an altercation he would save for another time.
"I don't see why we're still going to this Volunruud place," says Cat, laying out a bedroll covered in soft furs.
"It's what the Night Mother wants!" chirped Cicero, unpacking the essentials to start a campfire.
Cat rolls her eyes. "Look, man, you shouldn't be anywhere near me. I'm a liability. You'll be killed."
In no time at all, Cicero gets the campfire started. The flames flicker and dance, creating warmth and shadows that spread around the camp in a wide circle.
"Cicero is the Keeper," says Cicero, shaking his head. "The only thing left of the Night Mother is within you. Where she goes, I go. Furthermore, she spoke to Cicero. She said to go to Volunruud, so that is where I will go. Wherever Cicero goes, the Wanderer must go. I am not leaving you alone."
"Shit!" huffs Cat, angrily dropping a satchel of supplies. Shaking her head with a belittling squint in her eyes, she asks, "Do you even know what an Institute-grade standard issue laser rifle is capable of?" Holding up an index finger, she says, "One shot and you're vaporized from your neck to your nuts. And that's if you're lucky. Mod a beta wave tuner onto one of those motherfuckers, and whatever's left of your skin is burnt beyond recognition."
Cicero shrugs. "That doesn't sound any less pleasant than trying to out-maneuver the flame bolts of a testy fire mage."
Angry, Cat turns and kicks a rock high against a tree and yells, "Jesus fucking christ!"
"What-y fucking who?"
"Nevermind." Cat pulls up her hood and stuffs her hands in her pockets, sauntering around in a circle like an angry teenager. "This isn't funny," she mutters. She stops pacing and glares at the jester. "This isn't a joke, Cicero." Cat turns away. She doesn't want him to get killed, but he refuses to listen to reason.
"You know what your problem is?" begins Cicero.
Whirling around, Cat points at him. "You know what YOUR problem is? You're so fucking obsessed with this Night Mother bullshit that you're too brainwashed to see how asinine it all is!"
Speechless, Cicero grabs Cat by her wrist. His grasp is quick and rough. He wrenches her closer with a simple tug and glares into those beautiful green eyes. Deep down he's enraged, but swirling somewhere in the midst of his ire, he's also hurt.
"Ow!" she yells. "Let go of me!"
In a calm, even tone, a voice that doesn't quite sound like his, Cicero warns, "You're testing my patience."
Unimpressed, Cat snaps, "And what're you gonna do? Kill me?" Cat, scrappy enough with what little muscle she has, tries to pull away but Cicero's grip is too hard. "FINE!" she shouts less than an inch from the dead center of his face. "Slit my throat and dig that old finger bone out of my guts! Go fucking prance off into the sunset with it! Because that's all you care about, Cicero! You don't give a shit about me!"
Cicero's nostrils flare ever so slightly as he presses his lips together. Then his face relaxes as he says, in his usual tone of voice, "What Cicero was going to say was... do you know what your problem is? Your problem is that you run away from everything. You want to run away now. You ran away because you found out you're a – a synth! You RAN AWAY – like a scared mangy fox – when trouble started outside Loreius' farm!" Cicero releases his hold on Cat and she falls to the ground, slamming her hip bone against a sharp rock. "That's all you know how to do," he adds, giving Cat a sardonic bow. "You turn into a gutless mudcrab and scuttle away!"
Cat reaches down past the waistline of her jeans. Withdrawing her fingers, there's a little bit of blood seeping from her skin. It's just a scrape, but it upsets her nonetheless. This blood isn't even real. Manufactured blood. Feeling insulted as tears gather around her eyes, Cat stands back up, rushing toward Cicero. She shoves him. Barely budging, Cicero grips her elbows, locking Cat in a simple restraint. The two wrestle to the ground as she yells and squirms, trying to take swipes at his face. But with each flail, he swiftly evades her hands.
"Cicero does not only care about the Night Mother!" he yells as his hat falls off and his voice falters from dodging Cat's slender fists.
"Bullshit!" Cat wants to hit him right in the face – right in the god damn face. But it's like trying to hit a really strong spider monkey with ninja reflexes.
Pinning Cat's arms above her head, Cicero adds, "I care about you! YOU, Wanderer! I love you!" Instantly letting go of Cat's arms, Cicero gasps, snatching his hat from the dirt, pressing it over his mouth as if he's blurted a naughty word.
Stunned, Cat stares at him, her jaw open. "What?" she asks.
"Nothing," says Cicero, his voice muffled behind his hat. He lowers the hat and repeats, "Nothing." Then he shakes his head. "No – no," mutters Cicero. "It's not nothing, dear Wanderer. Not nothing." Adjusting the hat back on his head, Cicero looks down at Cat and says, "...I love you."
Silence holds the moment hostage as the two linger on the ground for some time, mulling over those three words which hang in midair, awaiting judgment.
"I'm sorry for the things I said," Cat mumbles, looking down.
Cicero shakes his head. "No, Wanderer," he says. "You were being honest. Honesty is brutal, like a pickaxe to the spine." He sighs. "But honesty is the one thing Cicero holds dear. He can't be Keeper and not favor honesty. Cicero has ...killed in the past because of lies and treachery." The jester stands and walks to his bedroll, kneeling down along its soft fur lining.
Cat follows him, pulling her bedroll up alongside his. "Who did you kill?" she asks, point blank.
Looking down at his lap, Cicero mutters, "His name was Rasha." He pauses. "It was a long time ago."
"Why did you kill him?"
Cicero stares off into the darkness of the trees. They sway around the camp like tall, ghostly dancers, moving to a silent hymn that changes with the breeze. He whispers, "Because he was not the Listener."
Cat watches Cicero. There's a sadness in him, something very distant, but very obvious. It has something to do with his past, of which she knows next to nothing. She called him brainwashed and now regrets her outburst. She is a terrible person – a person who is not even a real person. Pulling her knees to her chest, she lowers her head to hide her impending tears. "I'm sorry," she cries softly at the ground.
Cicero removes a glove, placing his hand on the back of Cat's head. He runs his fingers over the short hair of her shaved scalp, then glides them through her thick strands hanging just across the other side. Leaning close, his lips hover beside the metal piercings which decorate the auricle of Cat's ear. "You didn't run when Cicero tried to kill himself," he utters. "You,Wanderer – you saved my life."
Cat lifts her head, wiping away tears. "I love you too," she admits. "I – I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner."
Shaking his head at her apology, Cicero reaches a hand to her chin, lifting her gaze to his. Without reservation, he presses his mouth against hers. The two kiss softly for some time, just as they have in recent days.
Pausing the kiss, Cicero closes his eyes. "If you're not going to stop me..." he whispers against Cat's lips.
"Not at all," she whispers back.
Cicero's lips move slowly against Cat's mouth as his tongue gently rolls in and out. Reaching his fingers below the waistline of her jeans and underpants, he continues the kiss until he feels the concurrent swell of wetness from both her mouth and her groin.
Cicero leans Cat back along his bedroll as she cradles his jaw in her hands, bringing down another passionate kiss. Catching her breath, Cat rolls back her head. Cicero slowly, deeply kisses along the outstretch of her neck. Cat's hand traces a path down the fabric dangling against his chest, inching her fingertips over the muscles that spread across his stomach. Continuing downward, she discovers the firm shaft pressing eagerly against the tightness of his trousers. Cicero's hand reaches for Cat's, slowly guiding her fingers below his clothing. When the two locate the smooth, hard width of his erection, Cicero moves Cat's palm up and down its length, gently squeezing her hand beneath his own. His hips pump in rhythm as Cat feels his kissing intensify against her mouth.
Their clothing gradually escapes them as the two draw one another closer to their naked skin, sliding against each other in a tangle of warm, sleek limbs. Cicero feels the heat between Cat's thighs as they wrap around his hips. Her hands earnestly slide along his toned shoulders as his breathing and thrusting envelops him in a deep, swelling rhythm. Tension grows within Cat, tighter and deeper until it releases against the steady grinding of his pelvis.
In response, a restrained breath, almost a whimper, escapes Cicero's lips, arousing the delicate skin of Cat's ear. Cicero slides himself deeper inside of her, his erection expanding against the sensation of her quivering warmth. Moving his hips back and forth, he whispers in her ear that she feels exquisite. He whispers that he loves her. He whispers, in perfect sync with his steady thrusts, that he wants to feel her come again – and again – and again – and again. Shuddering, Cat's torso arches against the musculature of Cicero's body, her muscles tensing, then languishing as she goes weak.
Cicero gently glides the tip of his tongue along the bottom of Cat's earlobe, then whispers that he is not finished. Snaking his arms around her waist, he leans back, lifting her to his lap, continuing his thrusts. Practically upright, Cicero kneels with Cat wrapped around his lean frame. She holds onto him with what little strength she has left as waves of contractions continue to tremble through her, enticing him to finish. Cat feels Cicero grow deep inside of her as his embrace around her tightens. His breath now comes hot and wicked and fast as he fucks her with commanding deliberation. Together, they climax with the harmonious echo of hungry gasps.
Frozen in a deep kiss, bodies still interlocked, Cicero leans forward, gently laying Cat back down on his bedroll. As the euphoria subsides and the exhaustion sets in, the two coil around one another like kindred lost souls, abandoning themselves to the dark, cool breeze of the night.