Blackfeather Woods or half a page of scribbled lines

Engrossed as she was in the goings-on of her ritual, Maegi didn't notice the woman beside her slip into the past. Only when Flicker spoke did the Melonii turn her head, and for a moment she remained silent, still in a trance. I don't know, she said slowly, tasting each word as if they somehow held the answers.

A little more lucidly, she fixed her gaze more firmly on the woman and continued, What do you feel closest to? The sun, the stars--the ground, water, night, day, what? Or is there a particular emotion that you feel most often?  How would you describe yourself? Only then, she thought, would she be able to assign Flicker a daedra. She didn't know enough about the woman to choose.

And would she have chosen Peryite if her mother hadn't named her so? Yes, of course, the snakelike voice crooned in her ear, and part of her cradled it lovingly, but the rest of her still wondered. What about Mephala or Namira, or even Sheogorath? If she had been given time to think about it, all else equal. . .would it have been the god of pestilence?