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“Well, that’s that,” Nazir said, dusting his hands as the courier rode of, a spec against the snowy horizon, blurred against the wind. The letter, guarded with an enchantment, was to end the contract between the thieves guild and the dark brotherhood. It had been Cicero’s idea. “But Brother! How can we return to our old honourable ways if we continue to associate with such vile, lost people? No, it cannot do!”
And he had a point, afterall, many clients and sympathetics to the Brotherhood would abolish the thieves guild if given the chance, on the idea that one had principles and the other didn’t.
Speaking of thieves… recent events had caused Nazir to ponder the nature of thievery. Could emotions be stolen? They stole love every time they saved a soul for Sithis, or that was how he’d always thought of it. This didn’t bother Nazir… very little did. But recently, it felt like something had been stolen from him.
Hate, stolen by admiration, and this thievery angered him, because what right did the fool have to twist his heart and mind in such a manner? Nazir muttered the passcode, entered the sanctuary and closed the door behind him. If Babette or the initiates found out then he would be… but no. There would be nothing to find out. Admiration was a tame emotion, and that’s all this was. Admiration, for a dedication to the old ways that had turned out to be rather effective.
It was from an economic position, really. Economics.
Economics.
~ “And if the thieves choose to return, then I shall set them all to burn!”~
Arg! That sinning! Why now???! “Good morning, Keeper,” Nazir said. Noooo!!! Why did he say that? Well, there was one thing that settled his heart: hate was still there, set in stone. A little disguised, but still there. Admiration, clearly, was not as skilled a plunderer as he originally thought, …right?
“Oh hello!” Cicero spun to a halt, “...so poor invisible Cicero can be seen now, can he? How wonderful! Good morning to you too, dearest Brother Nazir! Is there anything you need? Do you require the services of the fool of hearts?”
“I-” I want you to go and jump into the sea of ghosts - but those words would be lies now. How could those words be lies? They were set deep into his heart! Could it be that they’d been… stolen? …Nazir would cast this off as demented mind magic, yet he knew as well as anyone that Cicero didn’t have a single magical bone in his (admittedly small) body.
“Yes? What is it?” Cicero said, slowly, then his face split into a grin, “no, no. Don’t say, let me guess… you want to confess your undying love to me! Haha!”
In an instant, Nazir felt as if he were made of sand, and that a light breeze would send him back across the dunes of hammerfell. He must have turned red, too… but was in too much a state of shock to properly register this.
“Haha, joking, of course… as if. No, but what is it Nazir wants. …Nazir?”
“I… err… I have to go,” looking to his left and his right, there were no easy escape routes or excuses he could use. He stayed placed exactly where was, and the little fool took a step in towards him.
“...hmm, could it be? Has Cicero struck a nerve? Well now, now that is interesting! Wait until the unchild hears about this, oh ho! Speaker Nazir will never live it down!”
“S-speaker?” he just managed to splutter out.
“Of course, speaker Nazir is the head of the sanctuary, isn’t he?” Cicero said, tilting his head to the side, “unless, of course, there is someone Cicero does not know of?”
Speaker. Leader of the sanctuary. This was more respect and power than he’d been given in his life.
“Where to find Babette~” Cicero sang, half skipping down the corridor.
“Wait!” Nazir called, catching his arm and pulling him back, “please no, don’t tell her!” he cleared his throat, “there’s nothing to tell her, is there?”
“Ohhh… hehe, Cicero sees. He’s heard of this situation before, no worries. This can be our little secret, can’t it?”
A breeze from somewhere, possibly the void, caught the corridor, lifting the ends of orange hair and a red headscarf.
“...” Nazir squeaked.
“Well,” Cicero released himself from the grip, “the Night Mother needs tending too, and as you know, our matron takes top priority. But after that… I’ll see you,” he winked, and left capering down the corridor.
Nazir stood, silent, wondering how he’d let this happen. How his whole reality (hatred, beliefs and all) had been stolen from him by the treacherous, foolish thief that was his own heart.