Blackwater Islands bleak

@Morgana had told her of a pale woman. twisted. mangled. not the queen the listener had foreseen, she felt, but a creature of significance.

the listener sought @Maegi, head low, gait smooth and skulking. the sun was just barely beginning to tinge the navy-dark sky with gold. @Harka came to her thoughts, then. they would be brought together. twin revenant souls. returned from the underworld.

for now, she would see this creature who had so reluctantly returned from the otherworld.

Wolves didn't have mirrors to their disposal, but she'd seen her reflection in enough pools, some of them clear enough to catch the hue of her eyes. Said eyes popped open at the sound of pawsteps, and she lifted her head to find the mirror of her gaze—enough to spook her, anyway.

And who the hell are you? Maegi demanded, her voice hoarse, cracking on half the words. The other was dark, and much younger, but in eyes alone they could have been twins, albeit different sides of the face. Certainly some relation based on that deep indigo; she'd given up thinking anything was coincidence at this point.

She half-sat up, lifting her chest with some effort, but made it a priority to meet that haunting stare, letting the silence engulf them until the other spoke.

another ailing visitor filled with outrage for the path cut for her by the fates, restless on their shores even as she sapped their resources. the listener felt her exhaustion sink bone-deep.

for a moment, she recalled the sweet violence of her youth. perhaps she would let the keeper kill this one. she was so tired of those who doubted.

but no.

i am the listener, her stare was level. there is one here like you. a revenant spirit. harka, we call him. i have come to bring you to him.

the listener believed that she would unlock the secrets he held. she was the key; the missing spark that left harka languishing. she had voidfire in her, but pale and brilliant like the moon. the prophet was certain that their similarities could not be coincidence.

The Listener.

It sparked something latent in her. A memory, a duty. 

Relmyna's voice. . . A promise not kept. And she knew, then. 

She knew this was some karmic punishment for abandoning her home, shirking her duty, and leaving the speechless woman to die without an heir.

She rose to her paws, swaying a little, and brought her tattered face inches from the girl's. That title belongs to the Woods, she snapped. My mother bore it. I was to bear it, too.

The dark wraith reminded her so much of herself at that age; old but young; scarred but still tender.

Tell me who you really are, and then take me to this Harka, Maegi said through gritted teeth.

the woman spat venom. nonsense. the listener was unflinching beneath her gaze, her proximity, her ire.

tell me who you really are.

she did not know. the realization felt unclean; it felt like sin.

i am called by many names, but none are my true name, the listener said, her gaze intense and unwavering. i cannot tell you who i am, but i can show you. let me take you to harka.

"The girl is not to be trusted."

For once, she agreed with Sheogorath.

But she didn't really have a choice, did she? Maegi held her gaze for a long moment before sighing, lifting her angular shoulders in a singular shrug.

Lead the way, then, she replied flatly.

Probably some other ghost from her past, or at least something to summon it.

She was beginning to doubt Morgana's insistence that she was alive; she'd been tricked before, and she smelled a rat.

the woman relented. so the prophet led her from her resting place to where @Harka lay under @Bridget's care. they were not far.

the listener stepped into the cave where harka languished, slipping between the thin tendrils of greenery that shrouded the entrance. they had grown since harka's arrival. she thought as she moved to the revenant's side that perhaps she would set an acolyte to clearing the foliage. later.

he languishes. but i believe your presence may invigorate him, the prophet gazed between the wolves with an air of expectation. would it happen now? or would it take time?

kept it vague as far as bridget's presence <3 starrlight, you're free to hop in if you'd like. this takes place before the ritual

The smell hit her first. Even under the odors of sickness and sea, she'd know that scent anywhere. But given her mental state, the fact that this place was all but a bad dream, she didn't want to believe—

Oh, my God, Maegi exclaimed softly as they entered the chamber. This had to be a ruse, right? Some trick of the witches? Oh, God.

She fell to her knees beside him, heedless of whatever ailed him, licking his face and feeling the feverish heat of him seep into her flank like osmosis.

You're alive, she breathed. Or was he? Were they? She turned to the girl, eyes perfect circles in their roundness. What happened? Where did you find him?

Harka, we call him. His name is Mou, she countered, not without an acerbic touch of possessiveness.

Mou. Mine.

Why not? quick cameo unless addressed

oops, shadow posted! but still, feel free to ignore her XD

Since agreeing to it, Bridget had stayed in the den with Harka, doing her best to take care of the fever-ridden wolf. She'd requested supplies and received what they could find, administering them carefully in the same way she'd been providing both food and water. Whatever he could keep down.

There had not been a change yet, but Bridget was optimistic. She had to be, otherwise there would be little use in trying, right?

She was grooming the remnants of treatment from his pelt when The Listener came, someone following. Bridget recognized her immediately as the woman she'd met before and stood up, moving out of the way and towards the wall wordlessly so that the druid could use the space. It was pretty clear, from their conversation, that they were not here to see her.

Mou. What a weird name. The thought was automatic, but something told Bridget she should probably keep her mouth shut right now.