The night clutched her tightly in its misted chill.
She limped down the halls. Beyond a room Maegi once inhabited, along the halls of prayers and worshipers who would all soon drift to sleep. For a moment she lingered there.
The whisperings of evening prayers held her ears. Even if she could not grasp them longer than a few moments.
Still she drifted deeper, hearing the well fitted words in somebody's mouth.
It did not matter who it was. She seated herself next to them. A grim reaper given life only by the air in her lungs. Her glazed eyes stared hard at whatever was before them.
Why did she?
It had been some time but life did not flow through her anymore. She had become a husk, dull and weary with life itself.
Pale moonlight from her eyes washed over him, as if she might only just now be seeing him. And perhaps she was. Perhaps his figure only held life to her now as connections clicked in her spiderwebbed mind.
Maegi.
The woman would never truly rest as long as Jakoul spoke her name.
Say.
Was the priest made to taunt? But she only licked her drying lips and cracking nose.
Love Maegi.
It was short, but direct. The heart of what she wished she had been able to say one last time. The thing she had whispered over and over upon the woman's corpse until she laid her to rest in the great blackfeather forest.
It was with pain that her eyes glazed over and her attention fluttered between past and present.