"Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold and see not what they see?"
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 137


He yanked me out of his memories for a brief moment. He was bent over me in the eerie light gray light. His features looked so much softer in the glow of decay. Sheogorath gently caressed my pale face as I stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling was circular was well, and was nothing but interconnected triangular, rectangular, rhombic, pentagonal, hexagonal, and heptagonal mirrors. I saw myself reflected in one of these mirrors. My eyes seemed unnaturally bright and glowing. I watched Sheogorath in the mirror, moving with such majesty that it was an art itself for him to move, gnawing and kissing and nibbling on my neck, like an insane vampire. I couldn't help but be hypnotized, mesmerized by his movement. His lips were so red, yet his cheeks so pale, and I couldn't help but feel aloof as he touched me with his icy fingers and lips.

"My dear Walter, does thou know now?" he asked me, his face in front of mine. His tone of voice was paradoxically sweet and cruel. He looked so young in the candlelight that mimicked the shine of the moons. He almost looked angelic as he gazed into my eyes silently in the light. Yet, this light also gave him a hint of sadness. I reached out slowly to touch his right cheek. He clutched it all of a sudden to his cheek in his serenity, and a pearly tear streamed down from each of his striking eyes.

"I know what you are. You are the tempest, no, the lightning begat from it. Lightning, unpredictable, duel-nature, embodies you perfectly. You are not just a force of chaos, but one of cold precision, of white-hot passion and energy. You can either completely destroy everything in your wake, or leave everything unharmed, and there is little who understands you," I uttered to him softly. He blinked his impenetrable eyes. It was quite odd how little his eyes reflected other than the very slightest hint of madness and a beyond-human, ancient intelligence. Sometimes, the gleam in his eyes was sad, but it was very rare. I was seeing it to a small degree now. I caressed his face. I wondered if Zarrexaij ever observed, studied him the way I was, and I wondered what it was like to see everything behind those eyes: the fear, the hate, the love, the angst, the worry, the despair. Sheogorath said nothing, but I knew he had listened. When I had spoken, his gaze was on me, and I felt like I was being treated with care instead of the usual disdain he displayed for me. I knew I was right, because he was stupefied in his tranquility. I knew I had unlocked a piece to the puzzle, but how much exactly did I find?

"May I sit up now?" I asked him in my most polite voice. I stopped touching his face, and he slid off of me. He sat up, as did I. We were still quite close together, but it wasn't quite as intimate. His eyes glared into my own. I shuddered at his gaze. He said to me, "You want to know more, don't you now." And I did. I nodded, and he sighed. The light dimmed and turned a dark blue. He reached out for one of my hands. I clutched his hand. I closed my eyes, and prepared for pain carrying my body away. The trip was quite painful, but I had gotten use to it.

I was in his mind again, and I could see through his eyes that some of the ballroom's walls were a decaying, almost moldy black. My shell of a body was still holding his hand tenderly. I pictured myself sighing as I felt myself sucked into his memories.

I saw Sheogorath, sitting cross-legged in a chair in his den, reading a book by candlelight. He was dressed in a royal purple robe. I could tell by the light coming from the various windows that it was at least late morning. Then I heard rapping, rapping at the front door. I watched him place the book on the wooden floor and stand up. He sighed as he walked towards the door and opened it slightly. It was enough for him to see who was standing behind it. He said nothing for a few moments. Then, he opened the door completely and I saw Zarrexaij, wearing a light purple robe, enter. She continued walking to the padded bench and sat down. Sheogorath closed the door and spoke to her.

"I told you that you needn't come," he told her respectfully. She watched him sit next to her, but not too closely. Zarrexaij replied, "I realize this, but I came because I wanted to." She smiled. Sheogorath's expression remained serious but not stern, but something in his eyes gave me the impression he was bursting with pride. He shifted slightly in his seat, and said, "Well, I'm sure you have something in mind to speak to me about." She grinned even wider, and replied, "Yes, well. I wanted you to teach me how to use and manipulate magicka. Can you do that today?"

He looked away from her for a second. He stroked his goatee before answering, "Yes, I believe so. Will you be attentive?" He squinted his eyes a bit on that last sentence. Zarrexaij nodded. "I wouldn't waste your time," she said sincerely. I saw a corner of Sheogorath's mouth go up. He stood up, and gestured for her to follow him. She then got up and followed him into the classroom-like setting he had. Sheogorath opened the door for her, and closed it behind the both of them. He took a very deep breath.

"It requires you to concentrate, think about what you want to do, and release that magic you receive. It's fairly simple, but isn't nearly as easy as it sounds. I just want to warn you not to be too foolish and overestimate yourself. Here, I'll demonstrate," he lectured sternly. His countenance became very pensive. Zarrexaij was watching him intensively. Her head practically followed Sheogorath's flowing wrist and arm gestures as he released a burst of magicka. It was a Light spell that greatly illuminated the room. Sheogorath commented, "I did a harmless spell. I didn't want to potentially endanger you. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Zarrexaij nodded, and tried her hand at it herself. Her face tensed up in thought, and I watched her make similar exaggerated gestures. From her slender, feminine hands produced a small ball of flame that puffed rapidly in the air. It fizzed out before it could do any damage. Sheogorath looked at her. "Impressive that you succeeded on the first try," he commented. His tone of voice seemed to be, indeed, impressed with her work. Zarrexaij looked positively radiant as he complimented her.

She leaped up to him, and looked up at him. She begged of him, "Can I stay longer?" Sheogorath did not hesitate to answer. "Of course you may, Zarrexaij," he replied, his voice containing a hint of affection. He looked at her, and smiled very faintly. He shakily laid his hands on her shoulders He looked as if he squeezed them gently. "I don't think I'll be getting a disappointment out of you," he remarked teasingly. Zarrexaij just looked up at him and smiled.

"How many students have you had?" she asked him curiously. He slid his hands off her shoulders. Sheogorath tensed up a little. I don't believe it was the question itself, but Zarrexaij was now in quite an intimate distance from Sheogorath. She was close enough to give him a hug or kiss, for example. I could tell that Sheogorath did not like his space invaded, much less being touched. "I've had only twelve students," he replied nervously, "and all but two have succeeded onto being masters. The council has never been very willing to give me apprentices and such."

Zarrexaij sat down in one of the seats, and placed her right hand underneath her lower jaw. She looked off into the windows. "I'm hungry," she said absent-mindedly, "Will you be kind enough to fix something to eat?" Sheogorath mumbled a reply, "Yes, I shall fix something for the both of us." He exited the room, and Zarrexaij was left on her own. She sighed, and reclined in the chair. "Sheogorath," she talked to herself, "How I would enjoy to know thee." She sighed after saying it.

The Sheogorath of the past seemed to be taking his sweet time. Zarrexaij exhaled, and continued mumbling to herself. "Always wearing something long-sleeved," she remarked solely to herself, her voice growing slightly husky, "I wonder what he hides beneath all those garments." She sifted again, and moaned softly. Her eyes rolled in their sockets a little, and her face slide left. "Oh, Master," she sighed. She squirmed in her seat for a couple more moments. "Forbidden, yes, forbidden I am to you, Master, but I shall be yours," she promised to Sheogorath, who was not there, "why, Master, I'd give myself…" Then the door opened, and Sheogorath walked in, with an eyebrow lifted, carrying a tray of sliced bread, a pitcher filled with a steaming liquid, and two tea cups.

He said nothing about what I assumed he heart. Instead, he said beside her and presented her some of the bread. She took it gratefully, and nibbled on it like a small, furry animal. Sheogorath took one of his slices of bread and finished it much faster than his apprentice did. He poured the steaming liquid in both the tea cups, and sighed. He watched Zarrexaij finish the last of her first slice and moved onto his second. She shifted in her chair, and laid her right hand on his left knee. Sheogorath looked at her strangely, but did not say anything as he finished his second slice.

"Don't you think our relationship with each other should be greater than the average relationship between student and teacher?" she interrogated him. Both of Sheogorath's eye brows lifted, and his lowered face as he looked at her. She giggled. Zarrexaij added on to her question, "I don't mean it like that. I don't mean a father-daughter relationship. I mean… more of a platonic relationship. You interest me more as a mentor. I want to know you as a person, not just as a teacher, Master." He looked down for a moment, and tapped a boot on the floor. He appeared as thoughtful as ever. He answered her, "It's a rather unorthodox request…but that's fine." He picked up one of the tea cups gently and sipped at the liquid inside.

"It's tea," he informed her matter-of-factly. Zarrexaij looked at the cup full of semi-translucent reddish-brownish liquid, and picked it up. She examined both the container and liquid. Then, she sipped on it daintily. She gazed at him, and complimented him, "It's good." She saw his first wide grin that did not show his teeth, and this pleased her. "You should stop scowling so much, Master," she mentioned wittily, "it has seemed to have almost completely fixed your face that way." A small flush entered his cheeks.

"You can't be merry all the time, can you?" he asked her. Zarrexaij lightheartedly replied, "Ah, but you can't be cross all the time, either." She smiled brightly at him. Sheogorath flashed her a short, wry smile as he chuckled for a few brief moments. "I do believe it appears we will not conflict as forces, but I suppose knowing each other for only four days is no way of knowing. It feels so much longer, though," she said to him mellifluously. He took another sip of his eyes. He replied, "I do not suppose we shall, either. You are well-mannered, and most pleasant to be accompanied with." Zarrexaij continued her wide beam.

They conversed on irrelevant subject matter for what seemed to be several hours. When my mind was tiring, I was pleasantly surprised when Zarrexaij stood up slowly. "I must leave," she exhale noisily in such a depressed tone of voice, "my family is bound to be worried." Sheogorath nodded understandingly and stood up with her. He placed his hand over hers to lead her the way. He opened the door, and led her amongst the hallway and into the den. He stopped before he dared to open the front door. "Zarrexaij, it was delightful for you to speak with me. I shall enjoy your company just as much in the future, but there is a question burning my mind. Why do you speak the word 'family' with such depression, such disdain?" he questioned her amenably. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and his eyes seemed to grow just a wee bit larger.

She stuttered. "Master," she began in her uneasy voice, "my family does not much care for my scholarly pursuits. I am the only child they have been able to conceive, and as the single female, I've been expected to be married off. My mother is most disappointed with my aspirations, as is my father to a certain degree. However, since they can find no man who will take my beloved hand in matrimony, they let me, very hesitantly, pursue my own fate." Sheogorath's tension seemed to be relieved as his face softened on her. He spoke to her, "Always remember, Zarrexaij, that there is always someone in a much worse situation. I don't know what it is like to have proper, loving parents." He opened the door for her as she reached for it. They bid each other goodbye, and Sheogorath quickly closed the door.

"Such innocent beauty would be a crime to mar with my touch," he muttered to himself, his eyes wide and not unhappy. He leaned against the door. Sheogorath looked so smitten in his staring trance. The last of that memory was him slowly sitting down against the door with his hands in his long gingery red hair.