Chapter 3: You and Me, Me and You
Tressa unlatched her door and pulled it open to see the smiling face of the jester.
Cicero's wide grin only widened further as he extended his arms out with a platter of assorted foods gripped in his hands.
"Hope you didn't fill up on bread and cheese, my Listener," Cicero said with a chuckle.
Tressa shook her head vigorously and replied, "Oh Gods, no, I'm still starvin'! Can't believe it's already supper time, though. Doesn't feel like I was out long—OH! Please tell me you made that juniper berry crostata I see!"
The jester chuckled louder now and nodded.
"Mmhmm. Cicero did, he did!" he happily replied.
Tressa's hands clapped together in excitement.
"Yay!" she cheered, but then held a shushing finger to her mask where her mouth should be.
"…We don't tell Nazir that you make the best sweets," she whispered.
"Awe… Thank you, Listener," Cicero spoke kindly at the flattery, "That's, well, ..sweet. "
He handed the platter off to Tressa and was about to bid her farewell so she could eat her supper in peace, but Kor, who was coming out of the initiate quarters just a few feet away, interrupted them.
"Okay," the young Nord man spoke bluntly, "I can't NOT ask anymore. Why are you afraid to eat with us? Why the mask?"
Cicero didn't bother to turn towards the Nord to reply.
"Why are you so disrespectful?" the jester flatly questioned.
Kor, apparently having found his courage to begin agitating Cicero again, did so.
"Why are you an unfunny jester?" he retorted.
Again, Cicero didn't turn to him, but Tressa could see the infuriation surfacing upon his face as he whispered to himself through his gritted teeth. "Cicero should retract his mercy from earlier."
Kor either had not heard Cicero's threatening whisper, or he just didn't carelessly care, as he directed his next question directly to Tressa.
"Are you disfigured?" he asked out right, but Cicero's fast turning around to face him with a danger in his eyes did finally get the Nord to wisely add, "I don't mean any disrespect. Gods, honest. I'm just curious."
A low growl could still be heard clawing its way up the jester's throat, but Tressa nudged Cicero with her elbow to tame it down.
"Hey now," she whispered, "you asked pretty much the exact same thing when we met the first time at that farm."
Cicero gritted back through clenched teeth, "You weren't the Listener then."
He then quickly whispered, "And Cicero's now admittedly looking for any justifiable reason to tear the impudent skin off his back."
Tressa shook her head with a sigh and put her lens back on Kor.
"I'm not," Tressa answered his question, "I just like it."
"Like it?" Kor repeated.
Tressa half shrugged.
"Yes. I've been a runaway and a criminal most of my life," she responded, "I've gotten so used to shielding my face from would-be capturers, my covering up is just second nature.-- It's not as sad and horrible as it sounds, really. I just feel quite comfy. And honestly, I really don't mind if you all see me…eventually. I do greatly enjoy making you all guess at this mystery here, though. It's fun. I like fun."
"Fun," Kor repeated her again, mulling the answer.
"Seems like your mystery," he concluded, "draws more attention than hiding from it."
Tressa didn't disagree.
"Oh, a lot," she nodded, "But it's really more like hit and miss. Just as many lazy-don't-cares out there as those who just gotta know what's hiding from them."
Kor nodded, accepting her explanations, but he then gave a confident smile.
"I'm going to guess it," he said.
"Guess it?" Tressa cocked her head to which Kor made a gesture at her entirety.
"You," he replied, "I'm going to guess you. I'll figure it out, watch."
The Listener laughed at his determined remark and exaggerated a nod.
"Okay, you do that then," she said and held up her platter, "I'm going to go eat and stay mysterious."
She gave Cicero, who had just been staring at the Nord with fidgeting irritation, another bump with her elbow to snap him out of it and send him off.
He spun her way, did a quick smile and a see-you-soon salute, and walked away.
He, however, downright jabbed Kor with his elbow, right in a kidney, as he passed him.
Kor's pained grunt was accompanied by the jester's sing-song voice.
"Come away~ Dinner awaits~."
Kor rolled his eyes and very noticeably restrained himself from elbowing the clown back, right on the back of his head.
Instead, he followed the crazy little man to dinner.
After Tressa finished hers, she made her way to the commons with the now empty platter in hand.
She entered to see most everyone still at the dining table.
Kor was idly chewing at what scrap of meat was left on the bone of his chicken thigh, as Aphid was seated beside him having a casual conversation with Tsuni, who was seated across. Aphid's plate was well cleared, as Tressa made the assumption that the skinny fella only had his usual of baked potatos and maybe some bread slices.
Tsuni's finished plate was politely covered with a napkin, but Tressa knew there was probably nothing but chicken bones left underneath, and that the khajiit had well cleaned those bones of their meat in the most graceful of wild displays.
Certainly far more gracefully than Kor's teething of the chewy tendon left upon his finished meal. Tressa saw Aphid finally stare at the younger Nord, and although Aphid's expression didn't shift from its calm, Kor still gave a guilty smile and set that gnawed scrap down.
Cicero was on the far end of the table, also finished with his meal, and he was turned sideways in his chair playing Cat's Cradle with Babette.
The unchild hadn't come for dinner, no, as she had very different dietary needs, but she always enjoyed the social gathering and the evening opportunities to start her "day" challenging whoever would accept to best her in her skill at the old game.
The jester was better at it than most, but still was no where near as fluid as the little girl who has had three hundred years to practice.
Nazir wasn't seated at the table anymore, though his finished plate remained across from Cicero, but Nazir was now standing at the nearby fireplace and smoking on rolled tobacco. He appeared to be thinking, though it was his usual custom after the evening meal.
Tressa then noticed Weylen…
Weylen was a Breton mage, older than everyone in the Sanctuary—Babette excluded—and he was the first of their initiates to join them after establishing themselves in Dawnstar.
Weylen was a man of average height, but had a surprisingly sturdy build for a mage, and for his age.
Tressa admittedly had a tendency to view those a bit older than her as INCREDIBLY older than her, but Weylen was indeed a man of years.
His short black hair was highlighted with the grey of life.
His facial stubble the same.
His stern blue eyes framed with crows feet and time.
But his body was sturdy.
Under his black with red trim cloak was a frame fit for a man at least half his age.
He wasn't particularly brawny, no, but he definitely wasn't gnarled and spent like many of his age.
Right now, he was currently sitting to himself at an end corner of the table opposite of Cicero's end and a good few chairs away from Aphid, Kor, and Tsuni.
It was obvious he was not a huddle close sort.
His attention, too, was on no one at all and purely drawn to his book, uninterested in any of the conversing around him.
Tressa had thought she heard him conversing with someone earlier in the initiate quarters when she had went for her nap.
Snapping at someone, actually. Most certainly Kor.
Tressa had been too tired to swing in and greet him though.
Not that she was particularly inclined to, but he was a very grouchy man anyway.
Especially since they lost Greorta, the Nord woman who joined them soon after Weylen did.
Weylen had no doubt--though surprisingly--quickly developed feelings for the woman. They appeared to be on a fling, but unfortunately Greorta lost her life while out on contract.
She had been eager to take on a more elite target, and had already proven herself a worthy initiate and ready to establish herself well in their ranks, but the target had proven even better.
Weylen did get his revenge and complete the task she did not, but he was still in the midst of feeling her loss.
Thus, the grouchier grouch. Even far more than Nazir could be.
At least Nazir occasionally joked around and would smile…
Tressa made her way and sat her empty platter in a wash bucket near the cooking pot, then she moved on to the table.
She greeted Weylen this time as she passed him, though he only gave a nod and a gruff of acknowledgment.
The Listener took her usual seat at the head of the table, which was adjacent to where Cicero was and next to where Babette was standing.
Tressa cheekily poked her fingers through the strings of the complicated Cat's Cradle they were attempting, but it backfired as Cicero and Babetre both tightly pulled the strings together and squeezed the Listener's fingers within them.
Tressa let out a pained laugh as she tried and failed to get out of their trap, but their shenanigans was abruptly interrupted by Kor suddenly slapping the table.
"Wood Elf!" he said loudly and matter-of-factly.
Tressa rolled her neck from the whip lash of that startle, but simply repeated his question.
"Wood Elf?" she said.
"That's what you are," Kor nodded.
"How do you know?" the girl asked finally slipping her fingers loose of the strings.
"Well," Kor explained, "you're really short for starters. I've never met a Bosmer of any height ...and…uh…um. Well, damn."
"...Is that all you got?" Tressa replied, unimpressed, "I'm Bosmer because I'm short?...Bretons are short…Cicero is short even for an Imperial. Weylen's gruffy voice probably suits an Orc or Nord more. Aphid is, no offense, a little lanky for a Nord. People come in variety, you know. Give me a better reason. Have you seen me eat a person?"
"I haven't seen you eat anything," Kor responded.
"Touché," Tressa nodded at that fact.
"And yeah," Kor shrugged his shoulders, "Now that I think just a little harder, you don't have a typical accent of a Wood Elf. But then again, you did mention you were a runaway, so you maybe you never knew your homeland. And as you just said—variety."
"Are you just going to be stuck on Wood Elf?" Tressa asked plainly.
"Are you a Wood Elf?" Kor asked just as plainly in return.
Tressa held her hands up in an I-don't-know shrug.
Kor made a "puh" sound of dissatisfaction to it.
"So even if I'm right," he huffed, "you're not going say?"
Tressa did the shrug once again to which Kor gave her a dismissive wave and hmphed.
Aphid suddenly tossed in.
"I say Breton," he said.
Tressa clapped her hands and pointed at him.
"There we go!" she cheered, "Keep the guesses coming. Keep it alive!"
"I say," Nazir piped in as he tossed his burnt out tobacco roll into the fireplace, "…That we need to get to business on this retrieval."
"Retrieval?" Weylen's attention popped up.
Obviously, hearing of this for the first time.
Tressa sighed in annoyance.
"Really?" she said, "No one told him? Not one of you eavesdroppers shared your intel? That's a spies greatest joy, isn't it?"
"I tried," Kor held his hand up, "He snapped at me to let him read his book in peace...You know, you all act like I'm more pestering than that pester of a jester over there."
The way they all looked at him upon that comment was telling…
"Come on!" the Nord flung both his hands up in offense and disbelief.
"Your saving grace with me," Nazir spoke to him, "Is that you manage to pester that pester of a jester."
Kor lowered his hands.
"Thanks?" he said in an unsure tone, but then he smirked and blew his tongue at the room, "Nazir likes me, you guys…"
Aphid flicked him on the ear.
"Bootlicker," he said flatly.
"I am not!" Kor yelped back, though he suddenly realized something about that remark, "D-Did Tsuni tell you I—"
"She did."
"Tsuni, you tattled on me?!"
The Khajiit bowed her head.
"Apologies, younger brother," she said, "I inadvertently did when I requested your brother's keen eyesight in helping me locate the jewel piece you thumped off my ear earlier. Tsuni is sorry she—"
Aphid interjected.
"No, Miss Tsuni," he said, "the apology doesn't lie with you…Kor…"
"What?" Kor protested, still clasping that thumped ear of his own, "It was just a playful—"
"Apologize."
"Wha—I… I'm sorry, Tsuni. But I didn't mean anything by—"
"Move your hand," Aphid instructed.
"No!"
"Kor, I done told you about keeping your hands to yourself here."
"Well then, don't do what you're about to do and keep your hands to yourself too! Lead by example, big broth—Ergh!"
Aphid simply grabbed Kor's wrist, and the younger brawny brother seemed to have suddenly no strength at all to resist his big brother's pull away, though he did attempt to lean as far away from the reaching thump as possible. Their grins read play, but Kor definitely was trying to lean as far away from that hand as possible.
He was just about to get flicked on the ear again when Weylen's unamused monotone interjected any further horseplay.
"Am I going to be let in on this or should I just get back to my book?" he said as he idly scratched at his stubble.
Tressa suddenly, and rather clumsily, made her way from chair to chair.
She stopped for just a moment to get around Tsuni in the middle, who didn't at all seem to mind the girl scritching the fur of her chin as she passed, and then Tressa was up next to Weylen.
She clutched at the neck of his cloak…
The mage looked at her as if she was absolutely out of her mind and began to ask what she had to drink with dinner, but the oddly acting Listener shook him in excitement while exclaiming, "Why didn't I think of you immediately?!"
"What?" Weylen asked, with no less bewilderment than he had barely a moment ago…
"Listener," he questioned further, "I believe I must ask you if you're getting enough oxygen in through those air holes."
"You're a Breton!" Tressa said triumphantly.
Still no less bewilderment.
"Yes…," Weylen replied, "… I am."
Kor slapped the table again.
"Ah! Ah-ha! So you, Listener, are not then?!" he exclaimed.
Tressa flung her head his way.
"Huh?" she answered but then put her attention back to Weylen.
"Oh, no, I mean Weylen is a Breton-Breton," she explained, "Born and raised, pure bred from High Rock...and not 300 years removed like Babette over there. Or a vagabond like me, if I am Breton at all that is…"
Weylen unclutched her hands from his cloak and gently pushed her away.
"Is there a point to this, young Listener?" he asked.
"Yes!" Tressa nodded, "Who is Sybil Jullamont?"
Weylen stared at her for a moment before looking about the table to see if the others looked as baffled by this as he.
"I…Who?" he said absolutely perplexed.
Tressa banged her fist on the table in defeat and turned away.
"Damn it!" she barked, "That would have been too easy, yes."
Weylen tapped at her shoulder to get her to turn back to him.
"If you elaborated a bit more, maybe I could understand?" he suggested and then whispered off hand, "...My San's Spice Wine stash is untouched, right?"
Tressa did turn to him and straightened up.
"Sybil Jullamont," she repeated, "…The Night Mother has requested we capture and bring back to her a Breton woman in High Rock by that name…I thought maybe she must have had, or still have, enough notoriety that you're familiar with her or the name?...Aaand what's that about a stash? You have a stash? I adore San's Spice Wine. Where's this stash?"
Weylen closed his eyes in the way he does when having heard or seen something a bit too trying for the day.
"Listener…," he spoke what he thought, though he may have held his impatient tone back only for her, "…A Breton does not know every single other Breton setting foot in the world. And, yes, I was born in High Rock. But as you'll recall in our little family get-to-know, I left that province in what you'd consider many…many…ages ago."
Tressa folded her arms.
"I knew it'd be too easy, but humor me at least…"
Weylen sighed, but seemed to look within himself in thought before shaking his head.
"The name maybe seems vaguely familiar, I think," he said, "Possibly. Just maybe. But, oh…no. I'm sorry. I don't think I know a thing about this woman."
He then spoke of the wine again…
"And my stash is a stash for a reason. This possibly wine induced scene of yours being one of them. Don't look for it. I will be quite cross with you, Listener. I CAN get even grouchier, you know."
Tressa gasped.
"Even more?" she said in mock surprise and spun from her chair to stand.
"Alright, so," she rubbed her hands together and rolled her neck, "…Plan. Plan. Pack. Plan. Need to get ready to head out in the morning."
Nazir stepped down from the fireplace stoop and stood before the Listener.
"And who among us," he asked of her, "should head out with you? Have you given any more thought to your company?"
"Well, of course," Tressa answered, "I'm not going all the way out to another province without so much as someone to talk to. Cicero! You still agree to being my yakety yak?"
"Until you slit my throat, my Listener," he answered back.
Tressa spun around with her head leaned to the side.
"That you'll allow," she said, flabbergasted, "but not a harmless few zaps?"
"Harmless?!" the jester shot back.
"The first few, maybe," he continued, "Highly annoying but harmless. But then you nearly ripped Cicero apart just the same as the test giver from the inside out! I'd rather just bleed out!"
Tressa folded her arms and was about to argue more about it with the man, but Nazir pulled her attention back on himself.
"If you think you have no need of me," Nazir shrugged, "you know I always vote for you to get that jaunty, unstable man out of here for a bit, but…Perhaps you should at least think a little more about expanding your merry band…"
"I'm going to bring Kor with us," Tressa answered almost immediately.
That was met with immediate attention…
"Me?" Kor questioned, his brother looking a bit questioning as well.
"Kor?" Nazir had repeated with as much perplexity as Kor.
Tsuni had tilted her head as well.
Babette gave a bit of a smirk and chuckle, as she and Weylen appeared to exchange some sort of nod.
But the most animated, and loud, reaction was had by…
"WHAT?!" shrieked Cicero as he smacked both hands upon the table.
He jumped up in a mix of frustration and betrayal. "Don't! Don't you invite that large mass of sass along! It's enough dealing with you! It's enough dealing with myself!"
Tressa simply let out a hmph.
Cicero continued the disagreement by coming near the Listener with an accusing finger.
"You're just trying to punish Cicero for justifiably disciplining you!" he accused, "And that was months ago! You've given no indication you've been holding a grudge on me, you childish scamp!"
"I haven't," Tressa said, "Emotions have simply resurfaced…like the welt you left on my hand!"
Nazir stepped in between them and held a halting hand up to both.
"Enough," he demanded, "Sweet Mother's patience. How is this place staying afloat with this constant nonsense?"
Neither of the two he halted answered the question, though it was rhetorical anyway, but once he was satisfied that their silence meant the squabble was done, Nazir let his hands down and addressed the Listener yet again.
"Are you serious about bringing Kor?" he asked, "Not that I intend my questions to be, well, questioning your reasoning abilities…but he is…well…"
Nazir actually seemed to be fiddling with a description that'd be least insulting.
"…a new initiate."
"Yes, he is," Tressa nodded, "And one that has been circling the drain."
Kor popped to attention at that.
"Hey, wait, what?" he said with a bit of concern.
"Yes," Tressa nodded at him, "The disrespect and having shown no particular desire to prove yourself to Mother, Sithis, or just us. No noteworthy contracts. You got all that muscle, but Aphid does the heavy lifting for you two."
Kor looked to Aphid who gave him a shrug and a bit of a nod.
The young Nord looked back to Tressa.
"So, you want me along to prove myself then?" he asked.
"Yeah, pretty much," the Listener replied.
Kor darted a glance at his brother again.
"Is…Aphid coming too?"
Tressa shook her head.
"What would be the point of that?" she declined, "After what I just said. I know we got ourselves a two-for-one special when you brothers joined, but... cut the umbilical cord, would ya?"
Kor didn't appear too certain and looked to his brother again.
Aphid didn't say anything, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and a half shrug.
Though notably, he seemed to be tapping his finger on the table with an uncertainty too.
It didn't go unnoticed through Tressa's dark lenses.
"Oh, he'll be fine, mother hen," she pshawed the apprehension.
Aphid smirked.
"I'm not too sure though," he explained, "that your mission will be…His clanging around nearly got me run through on our last contract."
Kor jolted with offense it seemed.
"I didn't clang around!" he snipped, "The room just happened to go quiet right when my sword hilt tapped the wall we were trying to skulk along! And what's this?! You're more worried about the mission than me?"
Aphid tapped him with his elbow.
"To be fair," he said, "worrying about the mission is worrying about you. Because if you butcher their mission, they'll probably butcher you…"
Kor seem to pale a little.
He shot his attention back to Tressa.
"C'mon, can Aphid come with us, please?" he said and Tressa chuckled.
"Eh," she waved the request off, "We'll keep a souvenir of your butchered body to always remember you by."
"Souvenir?" Kor repeated and suddenly gave a sly look.
"You want my—" he began to suggest something, but Aphid's usual calmness suddenly boomed with authority.
"Kor Bjergsen!" he snapped.
Kor immediately yipped a "Sir?!" and had shrank in his chair.
"No," the big brother warned with the one simple word.
"…y-yes, sir…," the younger brother yielded right quick.
Tressa wondered for a flashing moment if Aphid's iron clad reign of the guy might be usefully needed, but tossed the thought out as quick as it came.
Kor's fear of Cicero would work well enough to wrangle any issue he might cause.
Speaking of that clown…
Tressa motioned to Cicero, who had long taken himself out of the conversation and was focused on being a grumpy pout at the wash basin, scrubbing dishes in quite the aggressive manner.
"Plus, without Aphid around," Tressa said, "You can buddy yourself up to a new brother. You two need to get along anyway."
Kor raised a brow to that.
"Why?" he asked, "You two bicker all the time. And Nazir and he are CLEARLY not making daisy chains together."
"All of it as siblings do," Tressa shrugged, "but I do believe Cicero might truly break a tenet soon, if you two don't quell whatever this snippiness you got with each other is."
The Listener had Nazir in her ear again at this.
"Are you sure," the Redguard quietly asked her, "you want to use this unusual quest as an opportunity to bond a snake with a tadpole?"
"No, not really," she whispered back, "But if he's going to be there proving himself, they might as well learn to get along just a wee bit better...AND before you ask again, I think just these two with me will be adequate enough. At least until I figure out exactly what we're dealing with. I have the scrolls, so I'll pop back in, eh? No sense leaving the Sanctuary unguarded, right? I feel Mother would have at least thrown the heads up that Sybil is oh-so-powerful enough to take us all on."
Nazir seemed a little hesitant, but he nodded.
"If it feels right to you, Listener," he said, "I agree then."
"Yeah, after a THOUSAND questions," Tressa retorted. Nazir laughed under his breath and patted her shoulder.
"Oh come on, no," the young Listener swiped at the pat, "Cicero patronizes me enough."
She cleared her throat and clapped her hands.
"Alright then," she stated, "Cicero. Kor. Let's get packing up some supplies! We work on our secret best buddy handshakes first thing in the morning, and then we head out!"