Blackwater Islands Staring at the waves, but you don't wanna drown

vague-ish <3. Open to anyone!! Can also easily be a RO

No...

Bridget woke with a groan to a familiar sensation.  Her leg was burning, pain twisting up it and settling deep in her hip with a throbbing intensity.  She knew vaguely that they'd treated her but she had not been able to see, yet, how it looked.  It did not feel like much improvement right now.

She tensed and felt her stomach churn.  Bridget had never liked the opiates that the court used to ascribe to but now found herself thinking longingly of her stash, tucked away safely in her abandoned store within Brecheliant.  She'd do just about anything for that relief now.

There was nothing else to do but try and drift off again. Eventually sleep did come.

'Where were you?'  Unfamiliar children leered at Bridget from behind Teya with fierce golden eyes, but her friend's expression was the worst.  There was no welcome.  She turned but the shadows lengthened, twisting to block her path.  Something gnawed on her leg, and she knew they had hit bone... gone deeper..

She cried out but didn't wake.  Since rousing, a while after collapsing on their beach, her sleep had been spotty and disjointed, broken (if not helped) with pain and with nightmares.

She was lucky the druids here were talented... under their care, the infection killing her had been expunged. But the damage it had done, and the measures necessary to remove it, had her systems in crisis mode. She hadn't been lucid enough yet to worry about how far their kindness would extend, but the anxiety that came with being bedridden did not help her sleep quietly.

the listener seldom strayed far from the captive; when she could not watch over the ailing woman, the burden fell to @Ingram. morgana held the prophet's trust, but there had been some purpose in bringing her here, some force or reason behind the decision; something the listener did not know or intend to know until the unnamed god revealed it to her, and distrusted until such time.

so she watched. waited, rather; for many hours, little of note came to pass. days rolled into one another. perhaps the woman would die. the silence seemed to grow every hour, and her waking moments were few and fitful, her sleep ragged and ridden with holes.

she cried out. the listener swept forward, hunching over the fitful figure with nose hovering just above the space between her eyes. staring. waiting.

also vague, i couldn't resist <3

<3 I love her, yesss

She could sense some presence looming over her. Some primal awareness took note of it as a threat and she woke up recoiling. Her pathetic range of motion didn't offer much, and if the shape intended to hurt her it would have had little trouble.

Bastard. It had followed her here too. And it still just fucking watched, like she was some kind of toy to it. Didn't think gods were bitches...

She trailed off and closed her eyes, briefly, to try and ease the pounding in her head. She didn't know where she was, who was around, or what they had planned for her. It didn't cross her mind yet that these were questions to be asked.

curses tainted the air as the woman recoiled and then drifted again, eyes fluttering. the listener saw that she held weakly to her own awareness, senses still half lost to sleep and pain. she spoke of gods, angry and full of disdain in her suffering. she sought a place to lay her blame. the listener would offer her a source of solace.

but would she accept it?

there is only one god, the listener crooned, careful to piece the words together in full. soon she would master the language of lesser wolves. and it is by god's will that you live. for a time, at least; soon, a final judgment would be given, and the ailing woman's fate would be decided.

Though she wasn't consciously aware of it, she'd been trying to provoke a reaction. Maybe if she made it angry she could get some kind of answer from this specter that she was convinced had been stalking her these past weeks.

Instead she got words that did not make sense. None of them stood out enough to register as having any special meaning in her current state.

After a moment, though, her gaze did sharpen somewhat. You're... Fuck. This wolf wasn't what she'd thought. Who are you?

She barely remembered Morgana but had no recollection of this face. They'd said... something about god. But who were they and why were they here?

anger became confusion; the gilded wolf resisted in her own feeble manner, and reached for something mortal. something tangible. a name, perhaps.

i am the listener, the prophet whispered, obliging the sickly woman. you rest among the druids. you are ill, but the speaker has tended your wounds.

perhaps this information would soothe her delirious ire. or perhaps she was too far gone, one paw planted firmly in the otherworld as her body fought for survival.

This wolf was fucking with her. That wasn't a name, at least, Bridget was pretty sure it wasn't. Big ears? was what immediately came as a response, but she couldn't tell and really the joke was more effort than it was worth. She wasn't even sure she'd heard right.

The next part had a bit that was more interesting anyway. Druids. The title conjured up an image of home. It was a term she was familiar with, not one current to any faeries, but one that had been referenced a few times in older stories. So witches, she stated quietly. Not gods, but still close. The other woman, the one she barely recalled... she'd seemed otherworldly. She was one of them? Bridget didn't catch the connection, that "the speaker" was that woman.

She should ask, but not right now. Right now, she.... wait.

With that answered, she'd been tempted to slide back into sleep, but as she relaxed, for some reason her mind summoned an image of Teya. This time it wasn't a specter or dream that haunted her, but the sudden realization that she wasn't home. That she hadn't been home in a long while.

Brecheliant. She said suddenly, trying to push herself up. Oh god, everything hurt. She had to be satisfied with lifting her head, something that did help her to feel at least slightly more alert. Do you know it? She needed to send word. Not for them to come here, but just... so they knew she was okay. She owed them that.

witches, the woman said, and then: brecheliant. this word was unfamiliar to the listener, who nodded slowly in response to the question as if she had expected it.

yes. brecheliant is far, the prophet lied easily, wondering whether this would invigorate or dishearten the sickly wolf. regardless, the woman could not be allowed to think that her home was anywhere near the islands of the druids. such hope might have her searching for a glimpse of it on the horizon, searching for ways to escape. the listener would not allow her to leave until the unnamed god's will had been made clear.

She knew it. Bridget accepted the lie with obvious relief. If she could just let them know that she was fine, then everything would be okay.

Tell them.... please. She followed up on her own thought without specifying exactly what she wanted said. Far should have tipped her off that she had no business requesting the favor from total strangers, but she only cared right now that the message got there.

She watched the Listener with hope. If she agreed then Bridget could stop worrying.

tell them. the listener nodded again. when the storms pass, they told her carefully, voice low in hopes of coaxing the woman back into rest. for now the prophet would avoid weaving lies too finely, and see what else they could extract from the woman later. perhaps a scout would be sent to find this brecheliant...

What storms? She wondered what it meant, but only with a very dull curiosity. It wasn't enough that she bothered to ask. The important part was the implied agreement and she took her at her word again without question. Maybe later she'd have the wherewithal to be suspicious, but not now.

Yeah, she agreed with an exhale, still unsure what it meant but too grateful to question it. Teya would know, wouldn't come looking for her, and eventually she could go herself. Just now now. Right now she was tired and beginning to notice the throbbing in her leg again.

Did she already say thank you? She wondered it, but at that point, she was drifting off again already in the silence that followed. If The Listener did not interrupt, she'd be asleep shortly.

the ploy was a success. the woman fell into sleep, after a time. the listener lingered a few moments after her breath became steady, and thought that perhaps she would survive the loss of her leg. she left the den in silence, then, and sought the keeper. they had much to speak about.

i've been slow but i've been meaning to reference storms over blackwater since bridget's arrival, but it's probably realistic that she may not have noticed <3 just wanted to give a heads up!