“There's a broom up by the shrine, could you bring it for me please?”
And now he was doing her fetching and carrying – Sithis, this was too much, he should treat the designing little hussy like he had Gabriella, silence the sole witness... except he couldn't bring himself to do it. He passed her the broom, amazed to see the blood on the floor reduced to red dust.
“Freeze-drying,” she explained. “Old Forsworn method of getting blood off stone, we – they – perfected it when they took Markarth. First you freeze it solid, then you burn it, then you sweep it up. Thanks, honey.” She swept the red dust into a corner and handed the broom back with a smile.
“My name's Eola. And yeah, I used to be a Forsworn, it's where I got my training. Grew up on a camp, both my parents were committed to the cause. Me, I had two sisters die, saw it happen to one with my own eyes. When I came of age, I had other ideas and ran away. Never looked back.” Something in her eyes told a different story though, and despite the levity in her voice, Cicero realised that when she'd talked of being cold, hungry and alone, clutching at a loved one's corpse after they'd been killed, she'd spoken from memory, and that she'd looked back more than a few times on the Forsworn family she'd left behind. Cicero felt his heart go out to her and he knew then he truly was doomed. Everything about this Eola woman was wrong... but he still wanted to cuddle her better. And possibly then kill someone with her, butcher the corpse for her and then bend her over a hard surface and... oh Sithis, this was ridiculous. He was better than this, wasn't he? Wasn't he?
Apparently not because he'd put the broom back and gone back over to her.
“You have not been here long, have you,” he said gently. “You had a home, didn't you?”
“Yeah,” Eola sighed. “Nice little place just outside Markarth called Reachcliff Cave. Just an old Dragon Cult ruin, not even a big one, one of the few not colonised by the Forsworn. But it was home and it was mine. Until the dragons came back and the Draugr decided it was time to start serving them again. I had to run for my life.”
Just outside Markarth... near Karthspire perhaps? With Elisif safely on her way home and Gabriella dead, Cicero had a little time to spare. Perhaps he could help. Perhaps he could be of assistance to the pretty murderer, stab some Draugr for her. He had his new bow now, and Elisif had given him her ebony axe earlier, finding it a bit heavy to carry now she had two swords. Yes, yes he could certainly help. And if the pretty flesh-eating necromancer proved grateful and wished to... reward him... well, Cicero wouldn't say no to that either.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Draugr had proved easy prey in the end. Even the Deathlord in the final chamber had fallen to Cicero's axe and arrows and Eola's magic. None of them had ever even seen Cicero coming. He was feeling very pleased with himself, and Eola had looked nothing short of admiring. Then she'd given him gold and told him to go find a main course to reconsecrate the Shrine of Namira with. Well of course she was a Daedra-worshipper, Cicero hadn't even been surprised by that point. About the only thing about her that could actually have shocked him by then was finding out she was an untouched virgin. Which struck him as vanishingly unlikely, to put it mildly.
So he'd done as asked and lured that priest of Arkay back, giggling all the way, and really it was amazing what a tale of a cave full of undead needing Arkay's blessings and a bag of gold would do.
There they'd been, he and Eola standing across each other with Namira's altar in between them and a sleeping priest of Arkay on top of it.
Carve, she'd told him. Cicero had never flinched from a good stabbing in his life. So he'd carved, squealed at the blood spatter and then licked the blood from his fingers while she'd stared hungrily at him.
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 12.9
And now he was doing her fetching and carrying – Sithis, this was too much, he should treat the designing little hussy like he had Gabriella, silence the sole witness... except he couldn't bring himself to do it. He passed her the broom, amazed to see the blood on the floor reduced to red dust.
“Freeze-drying,” she explained. “Old Forsworn method of getting blood off stone, we – they – perfected it when they took Markarth. First you freeze it solid, then you burn it, then you sweep it up. Thanks, honey.” She swept the red dust into a corner and handed the broom back with a smile.
“My name's Eola. And yeah, I used to be a Forsworn, it's where I got my training. Grew up on a camp, both my parents were committed to the cause. Me, I had two sisters die, saw it happen to one with my own eyes. When I came of age, I had other ideas and ran away. Never looked back.” Something in her eyes told a different story though, and despite the levity in her voice, Cicero realised that when she'd talked of being cold, hungry and alone, clutching at a loved one's corpse after they'd been killed, she'd spoken from memory, and that she'd looked back more than a few times on the Forsworn family she'd left behind. Cicero felt his heart go out to her and he knew then he truly was doomed. Everything about this Eola woman was wrong... but he still wanted to cuddle her better. And possibly then kill someone with her, butcher the corpse for her and then bend her over a hard surface and... oh Sithis, this was ridiculous. He was better than this, wasn't he? Wasn't he?
Apparently not because he'd put the broom back and gone back over to her.
“You have not been here long, have you,” he said gently. “You had a home, didn't you?”
“Yeah,” Eola sighed. “Nice little place just outside Markarth called Reachcliff Cave. Just an old Dragon Cult ruin, not even a big one, one of the few not colonised by the Forsworn. But it was home and it was mine. Until the dragons came back and the Draugr decided it was time to start serving them again. I had to run for my life.”
Just outside Markarth... near Karthspire perhaps? With Elisif safely on her way home and Gabriella dead, Cicero had a little time to spare. Perhaps he could help. Perhaps he could be of assistance to the pretty murderer, stab some Draugr for her. He had his new bow now, and Elisif had given him her ebony axe earlier, finding it a bit heavy to carry now she had two swords. Yes, yes he could certainly help. And if the pretty flesh-eating necromancer proved grateful and wished to... reward him... well, Cicero wouldn't say no to that either.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Draugr had proved easy prey in the end. Even the Deathlord in the final chamber had fallen to Cicero's axe and arrows and Eola's magic. None of them had ever even seen Cicero coming. He was feeling very pleased with himself, and Eola had looked nothing short of admiring. Then she'd given him gold and told him to go find a main course to reconsecrate the Shrine of Namira with. Well of course she was a Daedra-worshipper, Cicero hadn't even been surprised by that point. About the only thing about her that could actually have shocked him by then was finding out she was an untouched virgin. Which struck him as vanishingly unlikely, to put it mildly.
So he'd done as asked and lured that priest of Arkay back, giggling all the way, and really it was amazing what a tale of a cave full of undead needing Arkay's blessings and a bag of gold would do.
There they'd been, he and Eola standing across each other with Namira's altar in between them and a sleeping priest of Arkay on top of it.
Carve, she'd told him. Cicero had never flinched from a good stabbing in his life. So he'd carved, squealed at the blood spatter and then licked the blood from his fingers while she'd stared hungrily at him.