Blackfeather Woods hello? is there anybody in there?

For the quest "The Ghosts, They Sing to Me"

Ah, the Weeping Meadow.

She kept to the outskirts of the place, knowing just how potent the tree could be. As she receded further into the hazy stupor that came with inhaling the spores, memories were conjured up around her. Cicero's patchwork pelt, by her side. Nyx's bicolor gaze flashing close by. Miraak, a dark shadow lurking near, indigo eyes twin orbs in the dim light.

Maegi had once thought the island much louder, with its crashing waves and constant calling of gulls. But the voices of the daedra that swirled around her now were a cacophony, endless, never ceasing. It was screams and whispers all at once, and it filled not only her ears but her mind--words she could not comprehend entered every pore, slipped through her veins like blood--

This was their domain, and hers, too. Now that she was home, she had established the connection with them once more, a bond she thought had been lost forever. She knew, in this moment, that a supposition of that nature was not true, would never be true. As long as Maegi Melonii stood in the shadows of Blackfeather Woods, the daedra would speak to her--

And she would speak back.

"Iksan kesīr," she whispered. And the gods roared with delight.

she had not been here since damien had drawn her from the spore-laden air. granted all manner of knowledge in those choked moments, the priestess did not see fit to return. but the arrival of the first melonii daughter had perhaps changed the listener's patrolled routes. she searched for maegi, if only to lay her soft seafoam gaze upon the girl and know she existed once more safe within the wood.
it was different sort of magick that ensorcelled maegi, relmyna decided; different, but not a wrong thing. the gods spoke in many ways to all manner of wolves, and the young worshipper was as well-connected as herself to the spirits that inhabited blackfeather. in her own mind, the listener had come to contemplations of her own mortality, and today it was with resolution she sought maegi directly.
too far away to hear the murmured words, relmyna paused in her approach at the movement of maegi's lips. perhaps the girl found herself in prayer; no matter. she gathered herself to wait in a reverent silence, her gaze drawing from the girl to the tree that loomed in toxic invitation.

Like a stone thrown into water, there was a ripple, a disturbance. Maegi whirled slowly--the world spinning around her, even when she stopped--to see Relmyna standing there, watching her. Her lips curved in a smile, and she padded toward the priestess, chin lifted in inquiry. The last time she had seen the woman, she had been much younger, small enough to fit neatly into her embrace. As it was now. . .

They were almost at eye level, though Maegi would always be short of stature, and perhaps always below Relmyna. In height, perhaps, but not in standing. Maegi was a Melonii, and nothing would ever change that. Relmyna was not. The Listener might have inherited these woods, but she was not born into them. It was this lingering sense of superiority--that a part of her despised--that clouded slightly her gaze as she stared at the woman.

"Hello, Relmyna," she said coolly but not altogether unwelcoming. She was, after all, glad to see her old friend, who had once been a kind of surrogate mother to her. Now? Her position in Maegi's heart had been taken by wolves like Venninne and Coelacanth; she didn't know whether the speechless woman would ever take up that same space again. Only time would tell.

it should have come as little surprise that maegi did not greet her with the childhood warmth. much time had passed; something or someone had tormented the young melonii into lasting scars. beneath the soft insistence of maegi's gaze, relmyna's own softened with something akin to sympathy, before she took up her usual focused expression. hello, maegi, the listener mouthed, moving slowly as always, as lip-reading must be learned and was not innate.
i am glad you are home, she added, settling herself upon the ground. turquoise gaze drifted back to the tree; for a long moment the patchwork priestess beheld it, before her attention returned to maegi. you still follow them.
it was a statement not of challenge but of assessment, approval — it remained to be seen how the yearling would take it. in truth, relmyna knew her heart had chosen well; the piety tied to the melonii blood had not abandoned maegi, and for that was she grateful.

She didn't know whether it was her poison-addled imagination or if a miracle had happened. But as Relmyna's lips moved, she heard a voice, soft and sweet, in her ear. Every word was crystal clear. It was the voice she had heard through the stone, the priestess' true tone. Blinking slowly--if she did so too quickly, the image of Relmyna doubled, then tripled--Maegi nodded along.

You still follow them. A voice like a sickness bloomed in her skull, wrapping around each curve of her brain. Peryite is pleased. Girl, you are home. And you have not forgotten me. "Of course not," Maegi responded, matter-of-fact. "They have never left me."

That might not be entirely true. There were many times on the island, and when she was lost in the wilderness, when their voices had been absent. But--

Hush. You know we have never left you. The absence of sound did not necessarily mean the absence of presence. Even in her darkest moments, the pull of the daedra was still there. They would not abandon her, and she would not think of abandoning them. Maegi swayed on her feet, suddenly nauseous. But she kept on smiling at Relmyna, ears folded forward to catch her response.

"Your daughters are almost grown," she remarked, remembering the dark shadow that had come to meet her at the borders. "How is everyone in Blackfeather Woods? Have my--"

brothers come back? But the lance of pain that shot through her heart at the thought was too great to speak, and she fell silent, swallowing the bile rising slowly in her throat.

yes — yes, power within maegi, power enough to ground blackfeather. but relmyna noted the sickening tremble that weakened the girl's legs momentarily, the aura of something darker that clung like burrs to the melonii's spirit. and yet relmyna could not decipher it, could not decide what it was she disliked about the strong magicks that maegi carried. danger, came a feminine whisper, and then no more.
yes, relmyna whispered, and locked away in their own heads. their birthright, perhaps, to follow what we cannot understand. she did not know if maegi had ever questioned their parentage; your daughters seemed to the sensitive listener an implication that they were not sisters to the scarred youth before her. 
however she chose not to take that path of conversation, instead turning to the subject of ramsay and euron. they came a moon ago, but they did not stay. her heart thrummed with pain for a moment; her lips tightened, and the patchwork wolfess fell into a quietude.

Maegi pursed her lips, pondering this sentiment. She did not like the idea of spiderlings running around the woods with powers greater than hers. So long had she thought herself special that any challenge to that notion would be met with stubborn denial. But she let it be for now--if the girls were indeed more connected to the daedra than she, she would find out eventually.

She let out a pained sigh at the whereabouts--or lack thereof--of Ramsay and Euron, and hung her head. "I saw them by the sea," the girl explained. "But our time together was short. I don't think they'll ever forgive me, for not going with them and Cicero." And it would haunt her until her dying day.

Maegi cocked her head, regarding Relmyna as she tried to get her brothers off her mind. "There are scents missing from the borders," she murmured, "and faces I haven't seen. Where is Nyx? Aries?" The former, especially, had been in her thoughts. Despite the anger she felt toward the woman for not looking for her, even after purporting to care for her, she at least wanted to see her again.

so maegi too had seen her brothers; relmyna's ears cupped toward her, but few details were forthcoming. perhaps they had left the teekons altogether, though the listener did not like to think of that. they would return, she believed; the call of blackfeather in their melonii blood would be too great to ignore. it was some measure of weakness, perhaps, but she had surrendered in faith to the gods this desire of her own.
you were a child. it was a terrible time, relmyna mouthed gently, gaze welling with a sympathy for how the melonii brood had been tested almost seemingly since birth. and then to have lost the respect of her brothers, and her father all at once. relmyna noted how maegi used the toxicologist's name, distant even now from her parentage. but of course the listener knew she could not understand what she had not been present to see.
her gaze grew aloof, then pained. they are with damien, and vaati. they want to reclaim the wood from kove. i have not seen any of them in weeks. she wondered what the girl would make of it, if she would depart them as well, or if she would stay as relmyna had.

She shook her head, unwilling to let Relmyna let her off the hook that easily. "I knew better," she said firmly. "I was selfish." And she was selfish in leaving Coelacanth behind, too. It seemed that Maegi's life was destined to be composed of short-sighted, selfish choices based on impulse.

The spirits were rising around them, cloaking her in a faint aura as they spoke. Reclaim the wood from Kove, Relmyna was saying. But, wait-- The woods will be taken from Kove, but they will not be taken by your brothers. Who was it that spoke? Not Peryite, not Sithis nor Mephala, nor yet any other daedra she was familiar with. But it was a familiar tone, she just couldn't place it. . .

"They won't succeed," Maegi said breezily, shaking her head. "If Kove loses the woods, it won't be because of them." She modified when to if, knowing how close to Kove the Listener was; he had elevated her to her current status, after all.

But who, then?

relmyna gave a gentle nod; she could not blame a child for the circumstances of their birth. but neither would she argue with maegi's more apt assessment of her own reality. however, she could not quit the gentle smile that briefly touched her ruined lips — somehow in that, they mirrored one another — and canted her head to one side. you are home. no matter what choices maegi had made before, she had returned to the place of her birth, and things would be set right once again.
the same whispers did not come for the listener, but since damien's departure, she had known kove would not hold the wood forever. and she too wondered in silence who it would be. her gaze settled thoughtfully on maegi; relmyna was quiet for a moment.
in my soul, i know a melonii must lead us again. she herself was not, nor kove, but he was a dark brother and as fit as damien to lead them, in her mind. yet the spirits of this place had become chaotic, churning with insensate violence, and perhaps it would be a younger generation of melonii blood to quell them. i am growing old, maegi. i will not be our high priestess forever, her mind murmured, though she did not shape the words, wary of their power.

Maegi nodded slowly, casting her eyes slowly 'round. Yes. . .home. Unchanged, yet so different. But then, it was her that was different, right? All that she had seen and done, all that had been done to her. The girl on the verge of adulthood was not the same as the pup that had once roamed these haunted paths.

Sometimes, Maegi thought much better of the girl that was then the girl standing here now.

"Of course," she answered, a smirk blooming over her face. "The Woods belong to the Meloniis--someone will step up eventually, I'm sure. Perhaps Sascha," she said dryly, remembering the dark stranger's ambivalence. Not a chance in hell. But then, an insistent prodding at her shoulder, as if someone was trying to tell her something---

No Melonii will command this forest again. The name will end in blood and fire.

Maegi shivered, and looked away. The words, right on the tip of her tongue, were lodged suddenly in her throat, and she licked her chops to try and clear the feeling. Her hair was on end; she shifted her weight nervously, feeling dizzy and nauseous and. . .watched. . .

"Who knows what the future holds," she continued, though from her cracked voice and wary eyes, Relmyna must know it was a lie. "Unless the gods tell us, we won't know." Stupid. She sounded pithy, trite. But how could she spill the truth, knowing it implicated her and all whom she loved?

why maegi lied; relmyna did not know. she was matter-of-fact, perhaps disregarding the weight the listener meant to attach to her support. but the patchwork wolfess was far from a vain beast who demanded recognition; she had lived without it long enough for it to no longer matter to her. but maegi — she sensed a deeply troubled nature to the she-wolf.
or perhaps she was merely projecting.
the gods grant us just enough to give us hope, it seems, came her soft rejoinder, knowing gaze fixed upon the young melonii. you can tell me what is inside your heart, child, came her gentle thought, intended for the innermost ear of one's heart. but if it went unheard, relmyna was confident in her gods' abilties to carry her missive all the same.
gathering herself to her paws, the listener offered the girl a gentle smile. i am going to tend the borders. i will interrupt you no further, maegi, she murmured, dipping her muzzle in a small bow before turning to pad in the opposite direction. and only when she was out of eyeshot did she begin to quake, her shaking body barely carrying her to the maw of wolfskull cave before the old convulsions overtook her and for a small time she died to the world, hidden among the graveyard bones of a thousand dead things.

No, Maegi thought in response to Relmyna's pointed stare. No, I can't. Not everything. She couldn't tell the woman everything. This was just another secret, another fear to keep hidden away. She had amassed quite a collection. Instead, she gave the Listener a jerky nod, trying to quell the faint trembling of her skin.

"'Bye for now," she said casually, her mouth dry. She watched the scarred, speechless woman depart, and heard the whisper again:

The Melonii name will end in blood and fire.

She opened her mouth, and out came no sound--but in her head, she heard a primal scream, echoing ripple after roaring ripple across the meadow.