Wheeling Gull Isle i'm growing and it hurts

She was all ears, and when he remarked that it might sound dumb to her, she shook her head in emphatic disagreement. "Back home, my family's gods spoke to me," Maegi said, a littly shyly--she'd never admitted this to anyone outside of Rokig or the members of the Woods. "I heard their voices almost all the time; some days and nights were louder than others."

She sighed. "They spoke in a different language. I didn't understand them until I started learning from my uncle," she explained. "And I only learned a little bit. So I only know some of their words." Her heart squeezed desperately tight against her chest in grief. So far away from home, it seemed like the tiny grasp she had on Daedric would be all she would have for the rest of her life. Everyone who could teach her was gone. There was Sascha, perhaps, but they weren't too keen; Kove, but he was not a native speaker, either.

"It's not dumb," she repeated firmly. Maegi stepped forward further into the surf, the water coming halfway up her legs. It was soothing, the ocean. A quiet, ever-present murmur. She wished she could hear the voices that Droman heard, and if she used her imagination, she could try to fashion voices from nothing--but in the end, she only heard the waves.

The daedra were not here.