The Blade of Woe

- Flashback: Cicero Returns! (Mission: The Cure for Madness) -

"Listener!" Cicero exclaims through the frosty, open air. Mr Teatime had just walked through the black door of the Dawnstar sanctuary, studying his wintry surroundings with wired nerves and a cautious blue eye.

The blonde assassin turns, finding the source of that all too familiar voice. Teatime meets the keeper's jovial gaze where he stands amongst the wintry grove, his own stare detached and measuring.

Though the listener doesn't show it, the jester's appearance has startled him to no end. Really, he hasn't had a clue what to expect from the man over the last few days or so. He's still deciding whether or not Cicero fits into his perfect little world of order over chaos.

During their last confrontation, Mr Teatime chose to spare Cicero's life. Not only that, but he also swiped his coin. This was a mere test, of course, just to see how the wildcard would react. The fool looked as if he were going to kill him, though that might have been a performance just as well. He really can't tell the difference, as of yet. All the listener really wanted to do was test the waters, to see if he could truly trust the man before allowing him back into the fold.

The jester leans forward with a cheeky look on his face, beginning, "Oh~ yes. It is Cicero. Heh heh heh heh… You were a fool to spare me. What, did you think I would be grateful? Hmph. Cicero should be listener… not you!"

Mr Teatime raises a curious brow as the keeper leans in close. He grabs at the collar of his black dress shirt and nears with his crooked blade. Cicero stares at him menacingly, saying, "Now, you die…"

Stunned, the cherubic blonde doesn't move an inch. He studies the jester's scowl, trying to decide whether he's jesting or not. Teatime's right hand barely touches the knife on his right hip, ready to pull it from its sheath in an instant.

After a few long seconds, Cicero retracts his blade. His determination suddenly crumbles into the most delectable sort of maddening laughter, "Gah! Ha… gotcha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha… oh, listener~! You should see the look on your face! Hahahahahahahahahahaha!" The fool keels over, hugging his waist as his form shakes with fitful giggles.

Teatime's rigid shoulders start to relax, his hands settling back down at his sides. He tilts his head with a grin… though its warmth doesn't quite reach his cold, heterochromatic eyes. "Heheheheheheheh…" He giggles shrilly, "Well, well, Cicero. Good form… as always."

The blonde assassin steps forward just a bit, continuing, "Truth be told, I wasn't sure you'd return... without slitting my throat for this, at least." He retrieves a pouch of septims from his inventory, holding it out to the cheeky fool with a pleased look on his face.

The keeper frowns curiously, taking the small leather pouch with a mild look of bemusement. "Oh…" He says, surprised. He waves his hand around, "That's okay, listener! We've gotten over it already. Cicero was mad before… but since then, we realized you were just testing us! Of course, that's only to be expected from our great and powerful listener!" He fits the pouch of septims into his pocket, sheathing his knife as well.

Teatime smirks pridefully, saying, "You've been testing me from the beginning. You're much wiser than I originally gave you credit for, you know."

The jester grins, his face warming slightly from the praise. "Hahaha, if you say so, listener! Though, you are the one who reminded us of our most important lesson! Too many years, by ourselves, just taking care of mother… we had nearly forgotten." He sighs, as if he's finally showing how weary the job leaves him. For years he took no contracts, had no fun to speak of, and simply waited for the day a new listener would be chosen. Such torment.

Cicero shakes his head, saying, "Everything… money, power, remorse… These things are temporary. Yet the dark brotherhood is eternal! Just as we are… next to Sithis and The Night Mother in death." The jester smiles happily, the tops of his cheekbones glowing a rosy pink. The sight of it starts to turn a very old and rusty cog in the vampire's wicked brain. Teatime just stares, the light of his one blue eye wavering oh-so slightly.

The keeper watches his listener's bright blue eye with a hopeful smirk, more aware of these subtleties than the immortal assassin probably even realizes.

The jester giggles, continuing, "Heh heh heh, that's right! Cicero has returned! Not to kill the kind listener, but to serve, until one of us dies horribly in service to our mother." He gasps, reaching for Teatime's cold hands, "Best friends, for-ever~!"

The assassin doesn't half expect it when he, himself, grasps back. He holds onto Cicero's battle-weathered hands with a centered gaze, saying, "The best of friends."

The keeper giggles nervously, surprised at the sudden reciprocation. Well, we didn't expect things to go this well… Perhaps dear mother has finally listened to our prayers! He thinks to himself hopefully.

Mr Teatime studies his complex expressions, saying, "And in that case, I believe you're owed a reward. You did me a favor, taking care of Astrid. She really left us nowhere to turn in the end, didn't she?"

Teatime pulls a knife from its sheath on his back, revealing The Blade of Woe in all its pointed, serrated glory. He holds it out, balancing the knife perfectly on the center of his palm. Cicero's jaw drops in awe.

"I-I-Is that… w-what I think it is?" The keeper says, brimming with excitement. He snatches The Blade of Woe from Teatime's palm, studying it with a deeply reverent and curious sort of gaze.

Cicero carefully touches the very tip of the knife. Its razor sharp edge pricks his finger, allowing some blood to pool at the point and drip down his hand. He can feel the power of it as it drains a small portion of his health. The keeper has to admit to himself, the feeling excites him… as if he's been given a real taste of Teatime's vampiric power.

The listener's senses flare at the sight and smell of Cicero's blood, more than hungry for a taste. Though he shows none of this, as per usual… restraining himself with the utmost precision. He'd rather die than become a slave to the throes of Molag Bal, anyhow.

The assassin does, however, lean in a bit too closely… whispering towards the back of his ear, "That's right, this is The Blade of Woe. Astrid should've offered it to you a long time ago… you've done more to earn it than I have. Though, I'm sure you know better than anyone how shortsighted she was. Please let me amend this most egregious error."

Cicero's eyes travel over the blade appreciatively, his mouth turning up into a sly smirk. He turns, facing the man again with an elated expression, "Oh, listener~... How absolutely perfect! What beautiful steel!" He hugs it to his chest, saying, "We'll cherish it forever! It feels so nice… like it was made to fit our hands!"

Mr Teatime giggles shrilly in response, "Heheheheh. What can I say? The blade suits you. I hope this finally settles the matter… You were pushed aside for too long, my dear friend. I promise, as your listener, I will not be so naive."

The happy fool beams, his face and ears taking on a lively autumn hue as he slips the blade into one of his many holsters. He nods agreeably, saying, "Yes, a thousand times yes! Finally, a man that recognizes loyalty around here! You know, Mr Teatime. You are not like the others that came before. There's something different about you."

The blonde assassin's eyes widen in surprise as he thinks to himself, What? He got it right. But they never get it right…

Teatime narrows his eyes thoughtfully, saying, "Stealing my words again, are you? I should be saying that about you… my dear wildcard."

Cicero smiles bashfully, waving his hand around with a nervous chuckle. "Heh heh heh… Well, in~ the meantime, I'll make myself at home in the sanctuary. I'm sure mother needs… tending!" The jester grins happily, turning on his heel. He starts walking off towards the black door, leaving Mr Teatime to watch his motley covered back as he goes.

The cherubic assassin bows his head in awe, looking quite pleased with himself. Whether they like it or not, Cicero's a key part of this family. He can't be so easily dismissed. Keep your idle hands from treachery, brethren… and perhaps the jester's blade will spare you tonight.