Blackfeather Woods the way, the truth, the life

@Kove or anyone else who wants to teach her about the lore and language

At night, when she dreamt, the gods spoke to her. They whispered in her ear, sweet and sultry, words and phrases that seemingly had no meaning. But Maegi did not have their language, and could not respond in turn.

The tiny pool in the glen connected to a small trickle of a stream, which connected to a larger stream, which connected to a swamp that covered a vast swath of the eastern part of the woods. Maegi did not much care for it, preferring the drier parts of Blackfeather's forest, but soon was thankful for her perseverance as she stumbled upon the clearing.

It was full of rocks and the biggest of these, right in the center, was cracked down the middle. And it glowed. Awe-filled, Maegi padded toward the boulder, taking in the sight of its blue-green, luminous streaks. This was no effect of moonlight, for there was no moon tonight; this was a place of the gods, and she heard them here louder than ever.

"I can't. . .talk back to you," Maegi whispered, her voice tiny against the vastness of the night, the immensity of this place. "I don't know how."

Miraak often went to the Temple to pray, in what strange way the followers of Daedric Gods prayed. He knew that his time on this plane was growing shorter with each passing day. He did not know how long he would have left, but he knew it would be soon. But when he prayed he did not ask for a revelation, or comfort from Mephala or Sithis — he knew he would get none from them, none so overt as other deities would give. He simply grew as close to them as he could, to bring himself peace when he did pass, no matter how violent the transition would be, to attempt to strengthen his bond with the Void and its inhabitants. He sometimes heard the voices — whispers, really — of long-dead family and friends. Meldresi. Morgiah and Mannimarco — his mother and father. Young Melisande and Mirnelea, who were taken when they were very young. He heard Aguta the most, a voice he had not expected to hear in the Void. He nearly burst into tears the first time he heard her gentle caressing whisper, so glad was he to know that she was, indeed, waiting for him amongst his kin and allies, rather than enslaved by some rival God, or even by Sithis and Mephala themselves.

His connection with the Void was not strong enough to allow him to hear more than faint snatches of words in familiar tones — he was no priest — so it would be easy for someone to chalk this all up to dementia brought on by old age and the too many times he had hit his head throughout the years. Perhaps that seemed more likely.

But regardless of what it truly was he continued to go to the Temple and pray. He did it daily — nightly, really. Moonless nights were the best time to pray, and the voices were loudest and clearest then. Tonight was one of those nights.

It did not seem like he would be alone for this night. At first, the sound of another, truly mortal, voice did annoy him. He did not want to be bothered by someone else as he prayed tonight. But it was smaller, younger than anyone he had known in Blackfeather Woods, which meant that it belonged to the youngest of their pack. One of them that is.

He strode towards the crippled girl, his stride smooth and silent, unwilling to break her from her own private meditation. He was getting old however, and his smooth, silent stride was not as smooth as it had once been. He could let it slide this time though — it wasn't as if he had been hunting or anything.

So lost as she was in the majesty of this place, Maegi did not realize she was no longer alone until the other wolf was nearly right beside her. Feeling the vibration of pawsteps on the cold ground, she wheeled about, feeling unusually guilty, as if she had been caught in the middle of some unsavory act, like bullying Ramsay or stealing from Euron's treasures.

It was her uncle Miraak, indigo eyes--the same color as one of hers--blinking down at her. She stared at him for a long moment, jaw hanging slightly open in an unbecoming fashion. Shutting it, she finally blinked back, twitching an ear nervously as she said, "Uhm. . .hi."

She considered fleeing the scene and leaving Miraak to his own devices, but curiosity eventually got the best of her. Turning back around and pointing her nose at the rock, she asked, "What is this? It's. . .special." Maegi meant the whole clearing in general, really, but she was most fascinated by the glowing rock.

He heard faint whispers as he approached, but it was so low, so incomprehensible that it registered as a low drone rather than clear words. The presence of the whispers did not go ignored by him, despite his inability to understand them. It was often silent here until he began to pray, and the fact that there was something here, something reaching out, excited him. It was clearly for her, Maegi, and not him. Hello, He greeted her, his voice low. He walked closer to her, his body settling by her side as she spoke again.

Nightcaller Temple, Meldresi had a clear memory for their legends and stories. The name was right out of one of the tales told to them when they were young. And that's the Altar, His paw raised, pointing to the split rock,  for no doubt was she speaking about that monument.

The Altar. Feeling rooted in place, Maegi stared up at the giant rock, taking in its massive shape, its bioluminescent features. This place was dark, like the rest of the woods. . .and yet, it was different: more sacred, less vile. Certainly a vestige of hope amidst the swamp she had traversed to get here.

"A temple. An altar." She tried out the unfamiliar terms on her tongue, then looked up at Miraak. "I. . .don't know those. What is this all for?"

Clearly, it was a supernatural place. The whispers of the gods, so muffled in her dreams, were more distinct and loud than ever before here. She heard her name: Maegi, Maegi, Maegi. . .and the slight murmur that followed, of Melonii.

Maegi had been taught that Meldresi was a powerful wolf, the founder of their woods, but perhaps she was more powerful than she had ever known. Her name--my name, too, the girl thought--echoed through Blackfeather's territory, a ghostly reminder of where they all had come from.

A temple is a place of worship, He gestures to the place around them. It is clear where the boundary of the Temple began and ended, the blue illumination stretching and the faded barrier between this world and the next ones ringing in their ears. An altar is where you place offerings for the Gods, He turned his nose to the tall split rock in the center, a bowl forming in the middle of it all. The Gods give nothing for free,

He was silent for a moment, contemplating a proper answer for her. For the Gods to speak with us better. He finally said. The connection to them is stronger here than anywhere else, and messages can be easier to hear.

She nodded gravely, drinking in every word as if she were in great thirst for them. The girl had craved knowledge since birth, especially that of the supernatural. It was a trait she shared with her mother, though she did not know it, and when she did grow to know it, she would vehemently deny any connection she had to Potema, good or bad.

"I hear them," Maegi confirmed, feeling their voices swell and ripple around her like the eddies in the creek running through the forest. "But I don't understand." She looked at Miraak, hoping he could help her. "Can you understand them?"

She wondered a lot of things in the span of just a few short moments. What were offerings? How many did you need to give? And. . .worship? Miraak had thrown a lot of unfamiliar terms her way, and the little girl strugged to grasp their meaning.

But she was suddeny shy, and felt as if she were asking a lot of questions already, so she let many of them slide. All she knew was that this place was special. Perhaps Miraak could offer her lessons day-by-day, instead of giving it all to her in one big speech.

She had that same sensitivity to the words of the Gods and spirits that his sister had, that her mother had. He had no idea why it only ran in the females of this branch of the Meloniis, but it was still present in the Meloniis nonetheless. I can understand some of what they are saying. If he was in the right mindset to concentrate and listen, their words would become as clear to him as they were to her now. Sometimes they speak in the Gods' Tongue, Daedric,

He sensed the confusion on her face, and instantly stopped whatever new spiel would have tumbled from his mouth. I'm sorry, He said in a sudden show of uncertainty in the old man's face. I'm not very good at all of this, He apologized for his lack of knowledge. He could teach her to fight well, to mask herself from their enemies, and hide her emotions, but most lore of the Gods was lost to him. My sister was the priestess — I was just an assassin. I wasn't very spiritual until recently, When death seemed even closer and more certain than before. I'll teach you what I know, though,

She mouthed Daedric, the word heavy and sweet on her tongue. The girl shook her head to wave away Miraak's apology, feeling abashed. She knew he only spoke so because her face looked overwhelmed, but it wasn't because of him. . .it was everything. All of this.

"It's okay," Maegi assured him, giving him a small smile to signify that all was indeed well. "I want to learn. From you."

It was a mystery why she was so drawn to the old man. Perhaps it was because, to her, Miraak seemed like the last banner-carrier of his sister's legacy. He was the only one in Maegi's life who had known her since birth. No one spoke of her like he did. He knew her power. . .but he knew her flaws, too.

"I wanna learn Daedric," she declared, looking up at the temple. Her eyes stayed locked on the rock as she spoke again. "Mazigon. I hear that a lot. What. . .what is it?"

Miraak appreciated her forgiveness. Her desire to learn meant that she would take it from anywhere, even if it was not a boundless source of knowledge. He was thankful for that. He was not good enough to fully enlighten her, but he could give her a base to spring off of.

Māzigon He corrects the girl's pronouncation, stressing the mispronounced syllable. It means 'to arrive', to come to a place. Kesan māzigon. I will come. 

He thinks, searching his old brain for scraps and snippets of the Daedric tongue that he only abused certain phrases of. A thought came to him, rememberance of why her name was so familiar to him. Your name means something in Daedric: Wisewoman. He smiles down at her, but does not tell her how the word had been corrupted in some circles to mean witch, poisoner, demon-fucker, monster. He knew what Potema had in mind when she was naming her.

PS: I use a mix of the translator and the dictionary (translator doesn't have all of the words)

She lets out a soft ooh sound as he explains her name. She didn't know it had meaning--she had just lived with it, it was her name. "Wisewoman" was cool, mysterious. She already had appreciated the alliteration between "Maegi" and "Meldresi"; now she appreciated her name further.

"Māzigon," she amended, and thought she felt the hum of the gods grow a little louder. "Kesan māzigon." It felt right, to speak like this. Her clunky way of speaking had often felt disjointed and childish. With this tongue, she felt suddenly adult, important.

Maegi looked at Miraak, her eyes bright. "Tell me more words."

 

I'm gonna fade out here <3 would love another thread before the war!