Blackwater Islands and by the sea, we're laying down our hopes

shadows danced under lightning flashes. each bright pulse illuminated the gaunt silhouette prowling the dark shoreline. the listener sought the revenant @Harka. under the speaker's skilled gaze she had treated his wounds for many days. she had waited patiently to hear what message he brought from the realm of spirits.

but tonight she felt she could wait no longer. the prophet swept into harka's resting place with long strides, her long fur billowing around her like a tattered cloak. she stared down at the pale spirit with a cold pitying reverence. a revenant soul was a sacred and pitiful thing; a creature of infinite wisdom and infinite suffering.

harka, the listener crooned, muzzle dipping close to one ear. what words do you bring from the otherworld? what do the spirits say? tell me. guide me.

bit of powerplay, let me know if it needs changing <3

This time he was not awakened by water tipped across his lips. It was a whisper — a name, the voice of the shadow.

The man struggled to surface from the deep well the poppies had thrown his mind in to; scratching at the stones, drowning up to his throat.

He managed a gurgle and a turn of his head. The single pupil was a grain of sand.

a terrible sound rumbled and hissed in his throat, as if the air in his lungs still battled sea-water for control. the listener laid her head upon his flank, listening for a moment. his heart thrummed steadily; his lungs filled as they should.

how did you die? she murmured as her head moved away from his chest, eyes searching his face. the listener did not truly expect an answer. why have you come back?

How did you die?

Was he dead, then? Was that why he could not move his body. Why he choked on his own tongue?

He moans piteously, but stops short the sound. Sucks a breath in, as the stranger's head touches upon his pale body.

Warm.

It is not enough to make him know himself, not as he should. But he is drawn to watching the dark shape as it moves. Watching its mouth. Seeing the gleam of teeth wetted with a predatory shine.

Sssithis, the man says, as if to recite the name of something might remove it of its power. Convinced, in his mindless state, that this was the daedric force made manifest.

sithis. the listener mulled this snippet in watchful silence, eyes trained to the rise and fall of harka's chest.

sithis, she repeated after a time. tell me of sithis. the pale sheen of berries glinted in her mind. the prophet looked on the ailing figure laid at her feet. she thought of the hazy cast of the otherworld, air as ancient as time itself. perhaps he struggled for want of the old magick that hung in the air in the realm of spirits.

perhaps a sacrifice would bring relief to him.

The name of the chaos god was repeated back to him. A request to know more; but what was there to say to a shadow that was new, or profound? They knew it all. They were an agent of the beast.

He was delirious but his mind filled with dark water shifting endlessly, and he thought he might choke, that it came dripping from his mouth when it opened. One hallucination of many.

The shadow was the grinning bear (@Shardik) who had chased him through a cave, for weeks. It was every bad dream, every murdered raven of Blackfeather; it was himself, somehow. It was nothingness.

Accident, he pled. Once when he was Titmouse, he had slaughtered so many of those holy birds of the blackwood and woken, surrounded by their corpses. He bemoaned that crime now as if it had just transpired, and burrowed his face against the silk of the Listener's coat.

C-curse, curseddd, he did it, he— but he was not lucid for long.

accident, the spirit wailed, suffering dearly for his stolen time among mortals. cursed. cursed.

cursed.

was that the nature of this sithis, then? a curse come to plague the druids? the listener was unflinching under harka's writhing touches, deep in thought.

when will the cursed one come, harka? she asked after a time. he did not have long, surely. she must find her answers quickly.

The man stilled.

His eyes were open; black fur lashing against the whites of them.

Gone, he wound whisper. All gone...

gone. all gone.

in time harka settled; the listener, unsettled. what little she had gleaned from him had lent more questions than answers. but she knew one thing.

the cursed one would come.

and then...

gone, harka's voice whispered at her ear. all gone.