Fool of Hearts

[winniethabish]

*drinks an entire bottle of wine* everything’s fine

[merrilymad-blog]

                                                                                       It’s killing you.                                                                                        People keep getting hurt                                                             and you just can’t stop it.

[merrilymad-blog]

Bo was more amused than anything by the blade that was so half hazardley being waved at him by this pale skinned man. The monster tilted his head and only smiled in response, hands moving up in a mock show of him being defensive. 

      “Oh, no. Whatever shall I do?           Pointy objects!”

       Red hair fell over one shoulder as the assassin tilted his head in mute curiosity. People, as a general rule, did not respond in such a way, taunting death, as it were. So ---what was the missing variable? What ---?      “Not afraid?” It was a simple question, lacking the fabricated ferocity of before and instead sounding strangely matter-of-fact. 

[word-stuck]

[merrilymad-blog]

"Hold on. What's the matter with your leg?"

|| x ||

      “Only a limp. Cicero has a bad knee, it acts out every so often,you see--?” A small lie, harmless really, but necessary in order tocover up the nasty wound lurking beneath his trousers, a deep swordcut that slows him more than he cares to admit.       One misstep. That’s all it took to gain another scar, anotherdisadvantage, even if only temporary. It goads him as a daily reminderof a failure, a miscalculation on his part.

[merrilymad-blog]

" hold on. what's the matter with your leg? "

|| x ||

       Disbelieving gaze dropped to the limb in question, a sort of dread certaintytaking over his features. “--Ci-Cicero can’t move it.” The words were numb, tightly controlled lest he scream in horror. Just a break --surely just a break. Something fixable, something temporary ---

[merrilymad-blog]

"Hold still. It hurts worse if you move."

|| x || 

      “So Cicero has noticed.” Even still, the jester bats her handsaway, less than trusting and for good reason. Most are more likelyto hurt than help one like him, and so he has come to expect it.      “--But I can manage.” As he speaks, teeth grit and he makes torise, unheeding of her warnings.

[merrilymad-blog]

"You're lucky to be alive right now."

|| x ||

       A hiss of restraint turned quickly to bubbled laughter at such words.Yes, even as he lay upon the ground with an arrow through his shoulder,just barely missing his heart, Cicero laughed.      “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

[merrilymad-blog]

"You know, you should have said something! You're lucky I was here."

|| x ||

        “Sorry for being so silent, Cicero was a little preoccupied trying not to die!”Usually, he’d not have snapped so at her. But with the pain of his wounds and the simmering anger at having suffered them, Cicero was hardly in the disposition to be chastised.

[judgmentcast]

He thinks of Roman Cicero robbed of tongue – Cicero as pursued by the Second Triumvirate with pins jammed in to prove a point. It would be a befitting PUNISHMENT for the pagan jester before him. Disgusted, this beast of a man R-R-RECOILS! Judge Claude Frollo curls his lip in disdain, a burning fire dilating his pupils.

         ◣ρισυѕ.✞◢: ❝On the contrary, you are BEYOND           salvation! Your Gods are smoke; your Gods are           false. Thou shalt not worship false idols. The Lord          will strike you down, Jester. You will pay for your                                         blasphemy.❞

[merrilymad-blog]

        The other’s pious conviction brings a sneer to his lips, every inch of it mocking. Cicero even goes so far as to laugh, the sound as disbelieving as it is amused.        “My gods are more real than you might think. They speak, they listen, and, without fail, they answer all who pray to them. But, unlike you, Cicero doesn’t throw stones at non-believers.”        A subtle slap, perhaps, a nod to the man’s own holy text. For, despite being of another religion himself, Cicero is rather  well versed in most beliefs     -----and therefore can see what a hypocrite stands before him.

[ahbutiman-archive-deactivated20]

merrilymad

           SORRY to disappoint you, dearie,                but you won’t be able to get in there! ( not that the man would really want to if he knew what would be waiting for him inside. )

[merrilymad-blog]

      “You don’t sound that sorry.” Regardless, however, he does seem to know more of the tempting house than Cicero.       “---Why can’t I get in, exactly?”

[merrilymad-blog]

                 Despite the harsh edge of his words, Maesena                  finds herself almost cackling at them, spilling                  mead from the corners of her lips. To the one                  who killed dragons and consumed their souls                  for a living (sort of), this ‘insult’ could be seen                  as nothing other than hilarious.                              “Little rabbit thinks it has fangs!                                      Want a carrot, little rabbit?” 

      “If you want to test my bite, by all means run your --your foolish tongue more. Cicero can cut it out once it stops wriggling.”        Red brows furrow and his eyes narrow, glaring at her in unmistakable challenge. If there is anything Cicero cannot abide it is being laughed at in seriousness. When he is jesting, capering, joking --fine. But when he is himself--

[wordsnquotes]

Maybe my passion is nothing special, but at least it’s mine.

Tove Jansson, Travelling Light (via wordsnquotes)

[merrilymad-blog]

Dodger opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind, shrugging a little. Suddenly he twirled a pouch his finger, appearing there as if my magic— but really only a bit of sleight of hand did the trick.     “I reckon this is your’s?”

       Eyes lit with intrigue at the sudden appearance of his coin purse in the other’s hand. Usually, he would have felt such a trick, stopped it before it could transpire, so this ---he’d found a truly talented child.       “It is. How did you manage that?” 

[usrnpt]

[merrilymad-blog]

I usually don’t do this, but I’ve seen this fan theory a lot since joining TES fandom, so I’m gonna politely correct this one. There are several things wrong with this theory. The first being the time that has passed between the events of the Oblivion crisis and Skyrim. An estimated 200 years have transpired by the time the Dragonborn arrives in Skyrim, and therefore, Cicero. Proof of this is actually in the excerpt above. The date includes 4E, which is short for the 4th Era. The Oblivion Crisis took place during the 3rd Era, so, at the very least, 187 years have passed. If Cicero was alive back then, he’d be an old, feeble man by the time he made it to Skyrim. Moving on. The Starstruck Fan is of elven heritage, most likely Wood Elf when one takes into account his height. It is impossible that he is Cicero for Cicero is an Imperial. And even if one wanted to argue we can’t know the Keeper’s race (despite him being from Cyrodiil, possessing a Roman/Cyrodilic name, and being listed under all credible sources as Imperial) he is certainly not a mer, or elf. If he was, he’d possess the trademark pointed ears among other traits (accent, name origin, etc.). The most likely reason that detail was added to his journal was to simply be a throwback to the previous game. It is pretty well known that the Starstruck Fan wasn’t so beloved and many players thought him creepy or annoying. Adding that bit to the journals gave players a laugh or groan over the previous content. Also: if anyone knows the artist who created that lovely Cicero picture, please insert a link [ here ]. I could not find it searching deviantart, but do not want to leave the artist unaccredited. 

[merrilymad-blog]

I am n o t вяσкєη           broken implies that I can be f i x e d                     and darling, I r e g r e t to inform you:                               {nothing can fix me}

[merrilymad-blog]

                  ‘ On the contrary; to get here was a true hell of an effort, you see. Certainly not for someone not too eager to reach the lowest levels. And that makes me think… We are either after the same thing, or, if not, meeting each other could be used to make the further way easier for us both. What do you think, Cicero? ‘        To show no hostility is meant, Bern raises the sword no further. It remains close to the line of the ground, the tip of the Dawnbreaker nearly scraping the dust that has lingered atop the cold stones over the countless years, and a small curl of the corners of her lips may suggest a promise of a smile. Yes, Bern does not trust him. Yes, from them both he is, to her, a certainly stranger one, although if standing before a perspective of an additional battle… Should the gods allow, the Nord prefers to save the strength for the army of the undead that must await in the crypt, hungry for blood.       ‘ I would appreciate a friendly blade. Like yours. ‘ 

       Well, there is certainly logic in her argument. And, since it is highly unlikely she searches for the same tome he seeks, the prospective arrangement is not --objectionable. Even still, appearing too eager would not be wise, so he makes a show of mulling it over, furrowing his brows and looking away as if in contemplation.         O b v i o u s l y, he takes her as no real threat if his eyes leave her.        Finally, oddly colored irises lift and a grin tilts his lips. “Cicero certainly does not mind a bit of company, especially of the non-zombie type.” Without thinking, he uses the Cyrodilic term for the un-dead. It is, after all, the name for them in his experience.        To show sincerity, the dark blade lowers to his side, still out for easy use, but not poised for immediate attack. As easily as if they were old friends, the jester falls into step beside her. “--What ARE you after, anyhow?”