Lion Head Mesa we don't talk about Cicero, no, no, no

She'd raided the caches in Blackfeather Woods, the well-hidden ones in the depths of which only she knew. Maegi had stashed things there during her many stints within the forest, and today, she returned with a folded wet leaf clutched gently within her front teeth.

Within its folds were poppy seeds, clinging stubbornly to the wet surface.

She could have asked Tavina for them. She'd had another seizure since her first, and no one had been around for it that time. Quicker, and less brutal; she hadn't bitten her tongue again.

But they were her only two seizures in her entire life, and had come in relatively quick succession. It was Sheogorath; she was going mad.

And if she were truly slipping into that madness, she would not do it sober.

Maegi lay underneath a nondescript overhang in the cliffs and unfolded the leaf, lapping up three seeds in quick succession.

"It's been too long, hasn't it, dear?"

He laughed, and it sounded like her father.