p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 25px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Cicero and the firstspan class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 25px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Listener/span/p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"The Listener had been slowly stepping closer and closer to Cicero as he stood, her eyes lazily examining his body piece by piece. His mad mind slowly grasped what was happening./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"With a flick of her pale wrist an invisible spell slammed the door shut behind her./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Through his insanity he saw plain as day what the Listener was doing, what she was about to do to him. She had crushed him already, and all he could do was stand by silently and let her crush him again./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;""What is it you truly desire, Cicero?" She asked, though she clearly knew the answer. His breath came in short constricted jerks now. Her beautiful fiery eyes consumed him, her strong hands which had taken so many countless lives now touched his face, her fingers were cold and rough, they gently caressed his chin. Her soft and gentle touch was tearing out his heart, crushing his soul./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;""Cicero…" she whispered in front of his lips, so close he could feel her soft breath. They were almost touching. He could feel the warmth of her face so close to his, though he could not touch her. em"… you want what you cannot have."/em She whispered. Her breath hot on his face./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"There was nothing he could do to stop her. She was ripping him apart piece by piece and there was nothing he could do. He had already been driven mad once, by pain, by death — but this was worse… this was far worse./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"The Listener leaned in, their lips touched. He responded, his whole body responded to her touch; her fire was consuming him. His heart, his mind./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Her fingers twisting through his hair, her face pressed against his; he was drinking her in, devouring her touch, her feel, her class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"His poor mad mind had latched onto love, a mad love that he could not control. She knew he could not control it, and yet she drove him further, she drove him to further madness. To her he was just a plaything. She didn't see him as a man, she never had, and she never class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"He was writhing in her embrace; she laced her fingers into his shirt, pulling him in class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"His hands involuntarily wrapped around her, sliding down to pull her hips in closer to him, making his heart ache as her body rubbed against his. He took a step forward, she was between his legs now. Their lips were seared together, he couldn't breath. He slid a hand into her hair, her pure velvet-black hair; so cool in his hands, cold in comparison to the fire of her skin./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Her hands were wandering across his body, groping beneath his tunic, eliciting from him a moan; he twisted in her embrace as her fingers tore at the lacing of his tunic, her hands slid down his bare chest./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Her inhumanly strong hands kept him from leaving, held him captive — but she knew he didn't want to leave, she knew he wanted more — but he wanted something she would never give him: her heart. He wanted her heart, but she teased him with her body. She could feel him shaking as she again pressed her mouth into his, groaning as her fingers slid down his chest, her nails leaving marks on his skin where she scraped them down to the base of his abdomen and pulled at his belt with a teasing tug. She knew she was causing far more than physical pain with her touch, his mind was writhing, his heart consumed by her cruel fire./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"His broken heart was screaming. His shirt fell to the ground. His whole body was shivering, though his skin felt hot. When their lips parted he was gasping for air. He looked back up into her eyes, those eyes of liquid fire, and in them he saw that wicked little smile; the smile touched her lips, the lips that had just been pressed against his now turned and mocked him. Cicero was sinking deeper and deeper into madness, the tears of insanity now poured from his very soul as the Listener backed away and mocked his entire being. His weak legs gave way beneath him, he was kneeling as a dog before its master, his body shaking, lips still trembling. That cruel wicked smile danced in her viscous eyes as she turned away from his pathetic form shaking on the floor, but before she left she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, in mocking tone, "Poor… mad… Cicero." The door closed behind her, blocking out the tormented screams of a madman./span/p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Outside the Listener's chambers the other assassin's could hear his screams. He can hear them mocking him: "Why does the Listener still keep that thing around? Why not kill it now and spare us all the pathetic whining?" One of them asks. "The madman is her little plaything," said another, "Let her have her fun." Another chimes in, "Hey, at least it isn't one of us, eh?"span class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"… Laughter. Endless cruel laughter… they are laughing at poor Cicero./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; text-align: left;"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"They mock him in his madness, as he tries to do his duty to the Night Mother, he tries to be useful… and when the Listener returns from her exploits, sometimes victorious, sometimes pale from newly acquired injuries — she returns, and she summons her little slave, her little madman Cicero. And like a faithful dog he must obey, he must follow./span/p
p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 25px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Listener/span/p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"The Listener had been slowly stepping closer and closer to Cicero as he stood, her eyes lazily examining his body piece by piece. His mad mind slowly grasped what was happening./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"With a flick of her pale wrist an invisible spell slammed the door shut behind her./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Through his insanity he saw plain as day what the Listener was doing, what she was about to do to him. She had crushed him already, and all he could do was stand by silently and let her crush him again./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;""What is it you truly desire, Cicero?" She asked, though she clearly knew the answer. His breath came in short constricted jerks now. Her beautiful fiery eyes consumed him, her strong hands which had taken so many countless lives now touched his face, her fingers were cold and rough, they gently caressed his chin. Her soft and gentle touch was tearing out his heart, crushing his soul./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;""Cicero…" she whispered in front of his lips, so close he could feel her soft breath. They were almost touching. He could feel the warmth of her face so close to his, though he could not touch her. em"… you want what you cannot have."/em She whispered. Her breath hot on his face./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"There was nothing he could do to stop her. She was ripping him apart piece by piece and there was nothing he could do. He had already been driven mad once, by pain, by death — but this was worse… this was far worse./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"The Listener leaned in, their lips touched. He responded, his whole body responded to her touch; her fire was consuming him. His heart, his mind./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Her fingers twisting through his hair, her face pressed against his; he was drinking her in, devouring her touch, her feel, her class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"His poor mad mind had latched onto love, a mad love that he could not control. She knew he could not control it, and yet she drove him further, she drove him to further madness. To her he was just a plaything. She didn't see him as a man, she never had, and she never class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"He was writhing in her embrace; she laced her fingers into his shirt, pulling him in class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"His hands involuntarily wrapped around her, sliding down to pull her hips in closer to him, making his heart ache as her body rubbed against his. He took a step forward, she was between his legs now. Their lips were seared together, he couldn't breath. He slid a hand into her hair, her pure velvet-black hair; so cool in his hands, cold in comparison to the fire of her skin./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Her hands were wandering across his body, groping beneath his tunic, eliciting from him a moan; he twisted in her embrace as her fingers tore at the lacing of his tunic, her hands slid down his bare chest./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Her inhumanly strong hands kept him from leaving, held him captive — but she knew he didn't want to leave, she knew he wanted more — but he wanted something she would never give him: her heart. He wanted her heart, but she teased him with her body. She could feel him shaking as she again pressed her mouth into his, groaning as her fingers slid down his chest, her nails leaving marks on his skin where she scraped them down to the base of his abdomen and pulled at his belt with a teasing tug. She knew she was causing far more than physical pain with her touch, his mind was writhing, his heart consumed by her cruel fire./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"His broken heart was screaming. His shirt fell to the ground. His whole body was shivering, though his skin felt hot. When their lips parted he was gasping for air. He looked back up into her eyes, those eyes of liquid fire, and in them he saw that wicked little smile; the smile touched her lips, the lips that had just been pressed against his now turned and mocked him. Cicero was sinking deeper and deeper into madness, the tears of insanity now poured from his very soul as the Listener backed away and mocked his entire being. His weak legs gave way beneath him, he was kneeling as a dog before its master, his body shaking, lips still trembling. That cruel wicked smile danced in her viscous eyes as she turned away from his pathetic form shaking on the floor, but before she left she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, in mocking tone, "Poor… mad… Cicero." The door closed behind her, blocking out the tormented screams of a madman./span/p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"Outside the Listener's chambers the other assassin's could hear his screams. He can hear them mocking him: "Why does the Listener still keep that thing around? Why not kill it now and spare us all the pathetic whining?" One of them asks. "The madman is her little plaything," said another, "Let her have her fun." Another chimes in, "Hey, at least it isn't one of us, eh?"span class="Apple-converted-space" /span/span/p
p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; min-height: 15px;" /p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style';"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"… Laughter. Endless cruel laughter… they are laughing at poor Cicero./span/p
p class="p3" style="margin: 0px; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: 'Iowan Old Style'; text-align: left;"span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"They mock him in his madness, as he tries to do his duty to the Night Mother, he tries to be useful… and when the Listener returns from her exploits, sometimes victorious, sometimes pale from newly acquired injuries — she returns, and she summons her little slave, her little madman Cicero. And like a faithful dog he must obey, he must follow./span/p