Voltaire swore to himself, if he lived through the night, and did not strangle Cicero, he would give five hundred pieces of gold to the next beggar he saw, one precious piece at a time.
It was not long after Voltaire knocked the jester out that he became conscious again. "Dear, sweet, Listener! Why are you so cruel to poor, humble Cicero?" The Fool of Hearts asked, moving so he hung upside-down on the bed, a pout on his face. "I don't know Cicero, maybe because you make my life hell?" Voltaire shrugged nonchalantly, glancing through a book he 'found' while he sat on the floor, as far away from the other male he could get. His eye twitched when he heard the full grown man whine so high pitched it hurt his eardrums. "Keep that up and I'll hit you again." The pale scaled lizard snarled through gritted teeth. And for one blissful, beautiful moment, everything remained silent.
"Why is Listener on the floor?" Moment over.
-x-
After handing a poor woman the five hundredth piece of gold, Voltaire sighed. He had gotten smart this morning and decided that this quest was better to do alone, sending Cicero back to Mother. With a sore neck and back, from sleeping on hard, cold wooden floorboards, the argonian waved off the woman who was blessing him in the name of Mara. 'Sithis, I should have dumped him on the floor. Oh, I need that bed!' Voltaire groaned mentally, almost wishing the day would end, even though it just began.
"Oi, lizard!"
'Oh, that can't be good.' Turning to look over his shoulder, the argonian Listener spotted the nords, five of them, from last night. Out of instinct, he reached for the long handle of his dwarven made hammer, only to remember that he left it in his room. "Damn…" he hissed, plastering on a fake smile. "Oh, hello there. Is there something you nee-"
"Shut up. Where's imperial?" the one Voltaire had restrained, via his hair, said in a tone that spoke of an impending fight. "Gone, long gone, so better luck next time." The Listener turned, having every intention of avoiding a fight without the aid of his favorite weapon, but was greeted with the sight of three more angry nords. "Then we'll settle for just you." It seemed to the argonian Listener that the guards were in on whatever the nords had in store, for there were none in sight. "Hrmph, I hate when people 'settle' for me."
-x-
Cicero was a good servant, do not ever doubt that, but he had not been keen on returning to the Dawnstar Sanctuary so soon, even though he wished to be by his beloved Dark Mother's side. No, he was far too interested in his Listener. He wanted to know why Mother picked a member of The Dark Brotherhood so new, and not him, who had been with her for years. 'Cicero would never hurt Listener. No, that would not be good. Cicero only wishes to know what makes him different, so noble Cicero can please Mother. Become no Listener, haha!'
The jester, dressed in common clothing, much to his distaste, peeked around a corner. He could see the unarmed argonain the same nords that found no humor to his jokes last night. 'Oh dear, Cicero better help Listener,' he thought, reaching for the dagger under his tunic. 'Or Mother will not be pleased.'
The fool gasped slightly when his superior's hand shot forward, producing a stream of fire, like a dragon would produce. A roar of outrage came from the burning nord's companions, which did nothing to cover up the horrendous scream he was emitting. He had not known the Listener knew magic.
-x-
Voltaire quickly dashed forward, grabbing the flimsy iron sword that was attached to the burning man, ignoring the flames that licked at his pale scales, scorching them black. He then slashed wildly at another nord, who had drawn his own weapon and was blocking and slashing back, while the six other tried to put out the fire on their friend. Once they figured out it was useless, and their companion was no longer thrashing against the magically conjured flames, they turned to Voltaire ready to attack and join the one already at it. Seeing he was out numbered, and without his normal arsenal, the Listener deemed a retreat necessary. Kicking the nord in the gut, then turning to the group now almost on him, Voltaire took a deep breath. "Fus," he could feel the power swell up in his throat as he inhaled. Then, he let all the air out with tremendous force. "Ro Dah!" Forcing all his attackers back, he dashed, tail wagging like a dogs. Using the Shouts always made him giddy afterwards, powerful, even invincible.
The argonian made a beeline to The Winking Skeever, to quickly retrieve his things and then leave Solitude for a day or so. He would continue his quest after things settled down. As he dived into the tavern door, he was unaware of a pair of wide eyes watching him.