Hours had passed since Virieti changed Cicero's gauze and dressings. She laid on her bed, now fully dressed, unsure with what to do with herself. Many thoughts were lingering through her mind. Why did Cicero say old Cicero was dead? Was Cicero always this crazy? During her mind's wanderings she remembered something! when she was searching through Cicero's things to find a clue where he was located, she found a series of 5 journals. She only had previously read the final volume however, as it was the only one relevant to the task of finding Cicero. The last journal was hard to understand, most of its contents were just babbling and ranting about the Night Mother; standard for Cicero. "There's got to be something about his past in the other journals." Virieti thought to herself. She grabbed her rucksack from her nightstand and pulled out the series of journals, all leather binded and sealed with a piece of string. "Do you think Cicero will mind if I read these? I mean he had them out in the open." Virieti asked herself. "Hmf, he is probably too psychotic even notice." She opened up the first journal and was surprised to see it written as if it was wrote by a sane human! No referring to himself as Cicero, no eccentric wording... nothing. During her readings of the first journal she discovered Cicero was indeed the lone survivor of the fallen Buma Sanctuary; Explaining the comment Cicero made earlier. This fact made Virieti even more curious about the rest of the journals. She continued to read each volume in full and found out not only did Cicero used to stay at Buma Sanctuary, but Cicero was also voted Keeper of the Night Mother by the remaining Brotherhood members and he fulfilled one last contract before starting his new duties; killing a Jester. Not only that, but as Cicero recounts his story, his writing begins to change. His writing becomes more erratic, he starts referring to himself in 3rd-person, and he begins to obsess about the Night Mother.
This was so much to take in for Virieti. Did the Night Mother, the one who chose her as listener, drive Cicero to madness? Or was it the Jester that he became obsessed with? She found herself asking more questions than she was getting answers. Virieti sighed and put the journal on top of her shelf. Out of sight out of mind. Regardless of how crazy Cicero is, He is the Keeper and she is the Listener, forever bound until one of them is sent to the Void. "I should go check on him, I am not sure how capable he is of taking care of himself, especially when he is hurt." she thought. She got up and headed to the guest bedroom, making sure to take a dagger with her just in case. When she arrived at Cicero's room and stepped inside, she was surprised to find Cicero nowhere to be found, his bed messy and completely empty. "What? Last time I saw him he went to get more re-""Listener" Virieti turned around to find Cicero, holding his side. He looked at her with a furrowed brow. "Why does Listener have a dagger, hm?" He asked in a low tone, looking down at Virieti's back pocket. Her eyes widened; she knew this didn't look good. "Was the Listener only keeping Cicero here to punish Cicero herself? Well do it then, if the Mother commands it! I welcome Dreadfather's embrace." He yelled, holding his hands out. Virieti sighed "It's not what it seems Cicero, I was using the dagger for-" she had to think quick, she didn't want to admit to a homicidal Jester she didn't trust him. "In case I see a skeever!" She said quickly. There was a silence between the two before Cicero started to cackle. "A skeever?! Cicero may be a fool, but I am not an idiot! A skeever could never possibly get in this house, especially one this finely made." Cicero made a point. Virieti was cornered and began to panic. He could easily steal her dagger and turn on her, even injured. He had been in the Brotherhood for at least a decade, he was much more experienced than she was, regardless of her skills as an assassin.
She lunged towards Cicero full force and pressed her lips against his own, running her fingers through his orange locks. "I want to protect you. As Listener that is my duty. We both are bound together by the Night Mother and I won't let someone hurt her Keeper." She said softly. Cicero's face turned bright red. "L-listener, even Cicero has his L-limits!" he stammered, shaking his head in shock. Virieti looked into his eyes, scorching embers drew her in and burned her soul. This was not the Keeper she knew; the man she knew was emotionless and a maniac. For just a moment, Cicero looked.. normal. Something about seeing Cicero in this state sparked something in Virieti. She grabbed his torso and pressed him against her. She started to kiss him again, this time with passion and want. she guided him to the bed and pressed him gently against the mattress. Virieti sucked on Cicero's neck, fumbling with his belt as quickly as she could. She could already see a stiffness rising beneath his trousers, trailed by amber red hairs up to his navel. Cicero moaned in pure pleasure; he hadn't been touched this way in a very long time. In fact, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to act in this situation, but he wanted to return the favor somehow. He wanted to make her feel good, make her love and appreciate him like he so longed the Night Mother to feel. He lifted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers, sloppily twisting their tongues together. Virieti gasped and whispered his name softly, finally getting his belt loose. She pulled against the top of his pants and out popped his member, swollen from excitement. It wasn't huge, but it certainly wasn't small. She looked down and paused. "Is Cicero... enough?" Cicero asked, seemingly worried. Cicero wasn't enough to be Night Mother's Listener, he wasn't enough to be a respected member of the Brotherhood, he was beginning to wonder why he can't just be enough for just anyone at all. Behind Cicero's insane and eccentric exterior, was just a sad, hurt, and scarred human being, wanting to be accepted and have a purpose. Virieti kissed his lips again, this time in a more tender and loving fashion. "Cicero, you've always been enough." She whispered, reaching her hand down and clasping his shaft. She started to make her way down to his groin, kissing and sucking on his stomach. Cicero tensed his body at the touch of her cold hands on the most sensitive part of his body. She slid her hand up and down as she held him in her hand before taking him into her mouth. She started slow, kissing and playing with the head before taking all of him inside her. Cicero arched his back "L-listener!" He moaned, pressing his hand on his stomach. "Call me Virieti" she said looking up at him. Cicero clenched his fist as she continued to touch him "Yes, Liste- Virieti, whatever y-you wish."
"Whatever I wish?" Virieti replied, seeing her newfound opportunity. Without giving time for Cicero to respond, she climbed on top of him and pressed his crotch against hers. Cicero smiled and began to laugh; his shyness began to fade into lust and longing. "How delightfully devilish Virieti, I like it when you play tricks." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist. He could feel her wetness against his flaccid penis, giving him encouragement. He pressed up against her more, causing her to whimper. "Look what you've done, you've made poor Cicero look like a fool. your fool." Cicero cooed into her ear, adjusting himself to finally enter her warmth. "But you'll be Cicero's fool, his Listener."