Madness is Merry, and Merriment's Might.

Icon by saintskully | Non-Fandom Indie Blog written by Turtle. Before interacting, please read the rules. Other blogs can be found at regina-roleplays-hub

[mothers-keeper]

“Madness is merry, and merriment’s might... When the Jester comes calling, with his knife in the night...”

MUSE | RULES

An indie roleplay blog dedicated to Cicero from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Written by Turtle.

While based in Tamriel, the blog’s setting is adaptable, allowing for crossovers, interaction with OCs, and canon-divergent storylines!

[starlightgospel-deactivated2022]

@mothers-keeper 

At the very least, solidarity is stored in the sweet rolls. Since baking with Freyja and Cicero, Tamsin has found himself hanging out with Cicero more often lately. With Tamsin’s own Summoner Josie off in other worlds, there hasn’t been much for Tamsin to do. His life in Askr has been a drastic improvement to that of the Realm, but routine can wear on most people’s nerves after a time! It’s keep watch, train, keep watch, train-- 

It leaves Tamsin moody, bored, and a more than a little desperate for anything that isn’t that.  

Not that going to other Askrs is exactly any different, but meeting Cicero has provided that balance. It’s sated Tamsin’s need for a break in the routine-- and added a delightful dash of chaos and mayhem to boot. 

Truth be told, Tamsin didn’t expect to like Cicero as much as he does. But, surprise, Cicero has grown on him! 

Today is another one of their hangout days. This time, the Askr that Cicero resides in. Which has become the norm, as it is easier to get there and back than it is Tamsin’s own Askr. 

And what do today’s shenanigans hold? Why, cooking of course! What? Who knows! They’ll figure it out when they get together. 

In the meantime, Tamsin waits at the usual spot in the Order. He’s gotten pretty acquainted with the layout by now. He’s haunting the kitchen, having a staredown with none other than this Askr’s very own Walhart. The so-called “Conqueror of the Kitchen”. 

“YOU AGAIN.” Walhart glares at him. “YOU’RE WAITING FOR THE JESTER, AREN’T YOU?”  [ Yeah. ] The text-to-speech from Tamsin’s slate replies. [ Calm down, we won’t start a fire or whatever. ]  “I AM HOLDING YOU TO THAT, LITTLE MAN OF FLAME. SHOULD MY KITCHEN COME TO HARM, WILL DESTROY YOU BOTH.” Walhart points menacingly.  [ So are you just going to stand there? ] 

“UNTIL HE GETS HERE, YES.” 

Tamsin sighs. He rolls his entire...flame? Then shrugs. [ Suit yourself, I guess. ] 

[mothers-keeper]

starlightgospel:

Devour the unborn.

How utterly wicked sounding! And all the more delightful! Tamsin takes the joke for what it is, reveling in it if nothing else. The bright, singular illusory eye Tamsin displays closes, his shoulders rising and falling in a delighted chuckle. Though no sound emits from him. ...As usual. Tamsin always had a taste for dark humor. Or, at least as far as he can remember.

Not the point! It’s omelet time!

[ Yeah, let’s do it! ] He’s typing as fast as he can. [ Do we even want to bother with lighting the stove? We can use my head, might make it easier. ]

mothers-keeper:

Cicero grins at having made his friend chuckle, and laughs outright when Tamsin suggests using his head. “Yes, we can give that a shot! I don’t see why not.” He grabs the eggs from the pantry, then crosses to the icebox to find some meat for frying.

[starlightgospel-deactivated2022]

mothers-keeper​:

Cicero slides into the room with a smile on his face and a singsong tone in his voice.

“If the kitchen goes up in flame, the two of us won’t be to blame. We’re here to have a delightful time! Not to commit a fiery crime. At least, not today…” His sentence is punctuated with a playful giggle.

He gives Walhart a wave as he walks past, then holds his arms out to offer Tamsin a hug.

Funny how that works. A nod, to a handshake, to a hug. After Cicero practically jumped into Tamsin’s arms in response to Walhart’s booming voice the first time they set the kitchen alight, a hug became their standard greeting.

Walhart rolls his eyes. Oddly enough, it’s the gibbering jester that he minds less than the undead flame…guy. Not that Walhart doesn’t have his eye on them both. But! If he had to pick one to have less faith in, it will be Tamsin. That’s the person Walhart has seen less. The jester, at least, is contracted with a Summoner Walhart has access to. 

“SEE TO IT THAT YOU NEVER DO AGAIN, AND I WILL NOT HAVE TO SMITE YOU.” Walhart booms before leaving the way Cicero came in. 

Were he not distracted by Cicero’s warm greeting, Tamsin would have waved off Walhart with his classic one-finger salute. 

Tamsin’s usual purple flame warms to a pastel lilac as he accepts Cicero’s offer and pulls the jester into a hug. Most people might be a little… averse to touching Tamsin. And yet, Cicero has not shied away since the first time. Thus, such an exchange became their standard. 

The moment they let one another go, Tamsin is furiously typing on the slate.

[ Ignore him. He can’t kill us if he can’t catch us!] He waits for the slate to read off what he wrote in its gaudy automated voice. Then sets to typing his follow up thought. [ So what’s good? You ready to see what we can throw together today? ] 

[mothers-keeper]

Cicero laughs at Tamsin's snarky and confident assertion before answering the question, "I was thinking an omelet," then he gives a dark and dramatic chuckle, "Cicero wishes to devour the unborn!" The phrase is downright maniacal, but he means nothing more by it than to be silly and dramatic. In truth, he finds cannibals and their ilk revolting.

[starlightgospel-deactivated2022]

@mothers-keeper 

At the very least, solidarity is stored in the sweet rolls. Since baking with Freyja and Cicero, Tamsin has found himself hanging out with Cicero more often lately. With Tamsin’s own Summoner Josie off in other worlds, there hasn’t been much for Tamsin to do. His life in Askr has been a drastic improvement to that of the Realm, but routine can wear on most people’s nerves after a time! It’s keep watch, train, keep watch, train– 

It leaves Tamsin moody, bored, and a more than a little desperate for anything that isn’t that.  

Not that going to other Askrs is exactly any different, but meeting Cicero has provided that balance. It’s sated Tamsin’s need for a break in the routine– and added a delightful dash of chaos and mayhem to boot. 

Truth be told, Tamsin didn’t expect to like Cicero as much as he does. But, surprise, Cicero has grown on him! 

Today is another one of their hangout days. This time, the Askr that Cicero resides in. Which has become the norm, as it is easier to get there and back than it is Tamsin’s own Askr. 

And what do today’s shenanigans hold? Why, cooking of course! What? Who knows! They’ll figure it out when they get together. 

In the meantime, Tamsin waits at the usual spot in the Order. He’s gotten pretty acquainted with the layout by now. He’s haunting the kitchen, having a staredown with none other than this Askr’s very own Walhart. The so-called “Conqueror of the Kitchen”. 

“YOU AGAIN.” Walhart glares at him. “YOU’RE WAITING FOR THE JESTER, AREN’T YOU?”  [ Yeah. ] The text-to-speech from Tamsin’s slate replies. [ Calm down, we won’t start a fire or whatever. ]  “I AM HOLDING YOU TO THAT, LITTLE MAN OF FLAME. SHOULD MY KITCHEN COME TO HARM, WILL DESTROY YOU BOTH.” Walhart points menacingly.  [ So are you just going to stand there? ] 

“UNTIL HE GETS HERE, YES.” 

Tamsin sighs. He rolls his entire…flame? Then shrugs. [ Suit yourself, I guess. ] 

[mothers-keeper]

Cicero slides into the room with a smile on his face and a singsong tone in his voice.

"If the kitchen goes up in flame, the two of us won't be to blame. We're here to have a delightful time! Not to commit a fiery crime. At least, not today..." His sentence is punctuated with a playful giggle.

He gives Walhart a wave as he walks past, then holds his arms out to offer Tamsin a hug.

Funny how that works. A nod, to a handshake, to a hug. After Cicero practically jumped into Tamsin's arms in response to Walhart's booming voice the first time they set the kitchen alight, a hug became their standard greeting.

[mothers-keeper]

How do you need to be loved?

[mothers-keeper]

Muse Info

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Ginger

Height: 5′ 7″

History:

Born to a single mother just outside Bruma, Cicero’s life was relatively normal for an Imperial child. He helped his mother make weapons and jewelry (for she was a smith by trade), and spent hours talking with the men that she would bring home.

Unfortunately, the simplicity couldn’t last. One of the more interesting men, a native to Skyrim, left their home in a fit. Cicero didn’t know what the argument was about, but he had assumed the Reachman was unhappy with one of his mother’s pieces. After all, his mother held a ring as she cried. 

She held the same ring when she died. A week later, Cicero woke to his mother’s corpse hanging in the kitchen. The guards ruled it a suicide, but they never really looked either. If they had looked, they would have seen the skin under her nails. Would have seen the signs of a struggle. Devastated, angry, he sought revenge. That was when he joined the Dark Brotherhood.

He grew into quite the assassin. Light on his feet, shadows at his side, he slipped undetected from contract to contract. But, by the time he turned 20, the Dark Brotherhood would be begin to fall. 

The Cheydinhal Sanctuary became more and more crowded as Dark Brothers and Sisters sought refuge within its walls, Cicero among them. But it was only delaying the inevitable. Infighting amongst the Black Hand whittled away their influence. Without influence, the Brotherhood’s enemies became bolder.

Wayrest Sanctuary fell to pirates, then Corinth was ordered to close its doors, then the Night Mother’s crypt in Bravil was at risk of being overrun by skooma traffickers. The story Garnag told Cicero could curl the blood of even the most hardened of Sithis' servants. The crypt of the Night Mother, raided. Dearest sister Andronica, cut to pieces. And the Listener herself, the most honored Alisanne Dupre, burned alive in a storm of mage fire. And without a Listener, there is no Dark Brotherhood.

Two months passed, and still the Night Mother remained silent. Whether apathetic, or simply waiting, it was clear that someone would need to watch over the Unholy Matron to ensure her corpse, her vessel for communication, was preserved. Cicero was chosen for that duty. That honor. And yet, melancholy overtook him. As Keeper, Cicero would not be permitted to take any more assassination contracts. Out of kindness, Rasha, the last remaining member of the Black Hand, permitted Cicero to take one last contract. He would kill a jester. Oh, how the jester laughed and laughed. Until he didn't.

Months and months of nothing but silence from the Night Mother. No Listener to receive contracts, no Speaker to give them. What was to become of Cheydinhal? Violence. Uproar. The Sanctuary remained unbreached, but Rasha’s hold on the Sanctuary began to slip. Members began to leave. Where laughter. stories, camaraderie was shared was then filled with nothing but...

Silence! Deafening silence! It was the silence of death, the silence of the Void. Seeping into him, through the Mother. The silence was hatred. The silence was rage. The silence was love.

When Rasha lied, blasphemed, betrayed by claiming to hear the Night Mother (but failed to speak the Binding Words), what was Cicero left to do? He dipped his honeyed words into Garnag’s ear, and the loyal Brother gladly destroyed the betrayer. As the Silence commanded, so did Cicero obey.

But soon, the silence was broken. Not by the Night Mother herself. No, she had not yet found her Listener. It was laughter! Continuous laughter- The jester! A voice from the Void, to cheer poor Cicero! He accepted her gift of laughter. Her gift of a friend. Still, he would have preferred her sweet Voice.

Four years after the death of the Listener, a year and seven months after being given the jester’s spirit for a companion, Cicero wrote this in his journal:

“Cicero is dead! Cicero is born! The laughter has filled me, filled me so very completely. I am the laughter. I am the jester. The soul that has served as my constant companion for so long has breached the veil of the Void finally and forever. It is now in me. It is me. The world has seen the last of Cicero the man. Behold Cicero, Fool of hearts - laughter incarnate!”

Eight years later, he would begin his journey to Skyrim. He would meet the Dragonborn. The Night Mother would speak! Speak to the Dragonborn! Oh joyous day! Wonderful day! But the joy could not last, for Astrid would betray the Listener and blaspheme the Night Mother. In fury, he would avenge the honor of both Mother and the Listener. Of course, Astrid and her puppets would fight back, and he would retreat to his Sanctuary in Dawnstar. A Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary blessed by Sithis himself.

There, the Listener would find him. There, the Listener would decide if he lived or died. And it is there that this history will leave you, dear reader. For no notable events have happened in dear Cicero’s life since then. For this history is not a history of the Dark Brotherhood. They have their scribes and chroniclers for that. This is the history of a humble Jester. A humbled Keeper. A renewed Taker of life.

[mothers-keeper]

Rules

1. Semi-selective, but I’ll probably follow you back and/or interact.

I will roleplay with almost anyone about almost anything (including OCs and Self Inserts). As long as the rp is fun, I’m game!

I won’t roleplay smut. Suggestive content/flirting is fine, but anything else will need to fade to black.

2. Will ship if characters have chemistry. DM me about it first.

3. I’ll try and tag triggers. If you have any that need tagged, feel free to DM me.

4. I am very busy taking care of my family, so it may take me a while to reply to threads.

Remind every two days for two weeks. Then however frequently you see fit as long as it’s not every day.