Who Broke It? - Skyrim Dark Brotherhood Edition
(I'm sure this has been done before but w/e)
Arnbjorn, setting a heavily dented kettle on the table: So... Who broke it?
*silence*
Arnbjorn: I'm not mad. I just want to know.
*silence*
Astrid: I did. I broke-
Arnbjorn: No, no you didn't. Krex?
Festus: Don't look at me! Look at Nazir!
Nazir: What? I didn't break it!
Festus: Huh, that's weird. How did you even know it was broken?
Nazir: Because it's sitting right in front of us, and it's BROKEN.
Festus: Suspicious.
Nazir: No, it's not!
Veezara: I-if it matters... Probably not, but, Babette was the last one to use-
Babette: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!
Veezara: Oh? Really? Then what were you doing over by the kettle cart earlier?
Babette: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, VEEZARA!
Astrid, getting a headache: Okay, okay. Let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Arnbjorn.
Arnbjorn: No. Who broke it?
*silence*
Nazir: Arnbjorn, Gabriella's been awfully quiet-
Gabriella: REALLY?!
Nazir: Oh, yeah, really!-
*chaos ensues*
~~~
Arnbjorn: I broke it. It burned my hand, so I punched it... I predict 10 minutes from now, they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick...
*crashing and fighting in the background*
Arnbjorn, grinning: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here~
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Happy Valentines from Fortress and Cicero 💖
Drabble beneath cut! 🔪
Crackling fire warmed the hall in the Dawnstar sanctuary, gentle shadows dancing on stone as the roar of the wind blew in the distance. The sound of rock grinding from a mortar and pestle, walls creaking from the brutal winds of the North. Beyond that, the hall was silent. Fortress thumbed through a book that'd been laid in front of him by Nazir, something about ingredients for poisons he was instructed to commit to memory. As useful as it would be, he did wonder where Nazir's confidence came from, ordering the Listener the way he did. Nazir had seethed sarcasm from the day he met him, but he'd always been respectful when it came to who he followed. So when the hell did that change?
Fortress sighed, staring down at the words as they seemed to meld into one big amalgamation, before closing the book promptly. It wasn't like Nazir wasn't respectful, no, but he remembered the redguard’s hesitancy when speaking his mind to his former mistress - a hesitancy long lost when speaking to his current master. Fortress had quietly hoped it spoke well of their intimacy, one formed tightly in their family after suffering significant loss.
A pit grew in his stomach at the thought. Longing.
After decimation of their last sanctuary, he'd bonded closely with the family that'd remained, one of those bonds reaching heights beyond imaginable. Though he was grateful for Nazir and Babett, he'd never expected….love, to blossom from the searing loss.
Gazing at the fire, warmth spread across his face - from the fire, he swore - he decided to go check on the Keeper. He was close, the sound of nightshade being ground in ear shot by the man in question. It was common for Cicero to attend to his duties before bed, Fortress always allowing him space to focus. Though, some days that space proved more difficult, like tonight. He needed to be near him.
Their time apart was few and far between, practically inseparable. Their romance had blossomed quickly in their life of no promised tomorrows. Life was short in Skyrim after all, and even shorter when dancing with death. The life of an assassin was messy, at best, so any sense of solace was welcomed without question. Scraping the wooden chair against the rock flooring, Fortress stood with haste as he made way up the stairs to the lofted entrance that held the Night Mother. His steps were silent without effort, an occupational hazard perhaps - though the pause from noise above signaled the perceptive jester knew he was coming.
Cicero paused as Fortress emerged from the staircase, smiling over to him as he sat on a step up to the sacred coffin.
"Come to speak to mother, Listener~?" he cooed sweetly. "Did she speak?" he sounded excited, a few beats passing before his grin became sly. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to avoid that book?" he snickered, tone much lower than his previous questions.
Fortress chuckled, crossing his arms as he made his way over to the platform. It was unfair really, how easy Cicero had come to know him. Knew his thoughts with only a look. He read people easily, his perception as mentioned was unmatched. At times, however, it was incredibly annoying how easily he saw his intentions.
Cicero laughed, it was written on the dark elf's face that he'd been right with his assumption. Fortress sighed before sitting down beside the Keeper, bracing himself on his hands behind him as he relaxed. Cicero continued with his ingredients, preparing his regular rituals for mother’s keeping.
"Is it that obvious, then?" the elf murmured.
"Hmph, Listener, you know Cicero is good, but it doesn't take an alchemist to know you despise the mundane," he mused.
Fortress made a deep frown. He knew it was true, and maybe that's what bothered him. Glancing up towards the coffin he wondered if mother could hear his thoughts as well, wishing for any sort of contract for an excuse to get out.
Shifting forward, he nuzzled his nose into the side of Cicero's neck, resting his chin on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around the jester's waist and closed his eyes with a sigh. His blood boiled, running hot as warmth spread throughout his body. This is what he needed, for his senses to be enveloped by the other. Without Cicero by his side, he often felt as if he'd lost a limb. Perhaps it was the wolf inside him, pack mentality had him by the throat - only made worse by the fact he was his mate.
"It's hard to read when you're in the next room," he hummed. "Couldn't keep away."
Cicero chuckled again, leaning his head against Fortress'. "Very romantic, Listener - though I fail to think Nazir will find such nuance in the excuse."
Fortress let out a huff. "Do you have much left to do?" Cicero hummed thoughtfully, bringing a hand to the one tightly latched onto his waist.
"No, Cicero is nearly done," he cooed. Fortress pressed a soft kiss to his throat, a sigh of contentment leaving the jester's lips.
"I was thinking we could partake in a hunt." His voice was warm, emphasis made with a deepened tone that caused the Imperial to shiver.
Cicero's laugh was much darker, smoother in tone as his voice dropped to a whisper. "Hmmm, Listener, now that sounds romantic."
With a swift movement of his free hand, Fortress tilted Cicero's chin for a chaste yet passionate kiss. Thoughts of important tasks were easily thrown from mind the second their lips touched, fire lit within them in that moment.
As Fortress pulled away, he stood to offer a hand to Cicero, pulling him to his feet with ease and finesse. Cicero wrapped an arm tightly around the elf’s neck, dragging him down for a much deeper kiss. His free hand still safely grasped around the cup of ground nightshade as he lost himself against his lover.
They'd both spent their lives entangled in a web of misfortune and lies. Never did they think they'd find another they'd trust so openly, freely - not like this. It was intoxicating, to say the least, a bond bound in more than blood.
Pulling away just an inch, Fortress held the smaller man tightly by the waist, gazing into his eyes as if they held the answers to the universe. He released his grip when Cicero moved to place the bowl on a table next to the Night Mother’s coffin.
"Mother can wait." Cicero smirked. "Surely helping someone find their way to Sithis is much more important," he laughed, coming over to interlock his fingers tightly between the elf’s.
"Shall we, Listener?"
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