Blackfeather Woods someone to rely on as lightning comes a-staring in again

@Heloise

alone on relmyna’s altar was a freshly stripped skull. it sat, its wide grin deep and unsettling. along the crevice of its brainpan, bits of matter remained, the rest stripped carefully by nipping teeth and tongue. 

its wide antlers, pointed skyward and fanning out from the cheerless stone, supported the delicate, seemingly fragile arch of a wolf’s pelvis bone. underneath its corrupted stare, placed at the foot of the skull’s snarled teeth, was a smooth stone roughly the size of a wolf’s eye. 

astara’s head was bent as she sat by the base; her eyes were closed and yet beneath her black lids they darted wildly. her lips moved and a twitch of her paw was occasionally seen— but no other sign of activity rippled across her hide, and it was evident the melonii was deep in sleep, or was possibly enveloped in a restless trance.

as a self-proclaimed being of light, she was accustomed to rituals. though not in the way one would expect. Heloise chose to offer silent prayers to beings of perpetual goodness; whether they be her own gods or not. should they falter in their benevolence, she would offer no mercy and turn her back upon them. no, she knew therein existed some darklings in the world. some beings that refused to twist their head toward goodness. who reveled in the suffering of others.

and she would hunt every last one of them down.

rituals and witchcraft... they did not please her. she knew 'good' pagans existed, but this. this was definitely darker. the woman came upon the girl once more, though she did not expect to find this. a sordid altar, whispers of dark upon the very air, and a trance (perhaps) holding the innocent. in Heloise's eyes, all children were innocent. incorruptible unless someone did the corrupting. whatever dark beast the girl was praying to, she would not stand for it.

"what are you doing, girl?" she would say, pale gaze narrowed at the gruesome shrine.

It was silly, but she hadn't been back to the Temple since she had returned because honestly, she was afraid of how the spirits there might receive her. She had cast Mephala aside almost for good, and Sithis was close to her soul only because he was close to Mou's. Maegi followed no god but Peryite, and though Peryite-worship was not terribly strange or foreign to Nightcaller Temple, it still was not customary. Particularly when the prayers came by themselves, and not attached to odes to Mephala.

But she knew she must return. It was the heart of her forest, the place where she most resonated. She had found an old, abandoned mouse half-rotted away, and dragged it by the tail through the Mire. When she arrived in the clearing, she was surprised to see two figures already near the Altar—one dark, one light. A voice carried as she padded over to them:

What are you doing, girl?

By that, the dark one soon became known; it was Relmyna's daughter, the one who didn't speak. She was praying over a skull that rested atop the slab of rock, her eyes closed. Maegi didn't want to disturb her too forcefully, so she gave a low, delicate hum under her breath, and then turned to the stranger, whom she had never seen before in her life. A stranger, in the woods. Her hackles raised slightly.

She's praying, the Melonii said coldly, leveling her bi-colored stare and grimly-scarred expression upon the woman. The duh went without saying.

astara's trance - seance - session - whatever it was, ground to a startling halt. her eyes fluttered open (no farts this time, you jerks) and hazily focused on the shape of the woman before her. her fur bristled immediately, and she swayed abruptly to her feet, her ears sweeping back in surprise.

seconds later she recognized the woman, but it did nothing to soften her immediate defensiveness. maegi's presence settled her somewhat, but astara's gaze remained on the pale templar pointedly, as if the very question heloise uttered was better served directed to her rather than the melonii that breathed and died by the forest.

ooc; prolly in a potential fight with another thread of hel's so i gotta makes an exit within character/timelines suck.

praying the new beast uttered. "obviously" Heloise would reply curtly enough, having no patience for beings of a dark and sinful design. she assumed the girl was merely mute, not drenched in beginning decay. the air was thick with heathenism. she could almost choke upon it. her body twisted away from the gathering. the sudden thought of snuffing out the girl's life before her evil gods could devour her body and soul was almost tempting. yet she merely assumed this was the whispering of the deities influences. 

yet the girl... disappointing. praying to your heathen gods the mind would repeat, seeing no souls worth saving here. the altar had not been forced to be put up. there was nothing to suggest someone else had done it, that the girl was merely playing with a curious force. like a teenager at a slumber party, getting ahold of an ouija board. this was deliberate. this was too dark for her. Heloise knew if she attacked, the other woman would come to the girl's aid. and if Heloise was to attack the woman, the girl would go to her defense. 

there was nothing for her to do here. she would not stand by while this ritual took place yet she also had the sense to realize if she disrupted she would perish. without another word, catching the eyes of the girl briefly, Heloise would turn to depart. her soul was not worth curiosity's heavy price. she would not be tainted by the choking air.

So then you didn't need to ask, Maegi responded, but the woman was already turning to walk away. Oh, so it was like that, huh? Just walk right into somebody else's place and ask dumb questions and then walk right back out?

If Maegi wasn't so worried about harboring Mou here, and Ramsay, too (even though she knew they were capable of defending themselves) she would have done something stupid. As it was, she sat and watched the woman's departure. Once she had vanished, she turned again to Astara.

You were praying, right? she asked, eyes narrowed slightly. To Mephala or Sithis or another daedra, right? That, she could understand. She wasn't sure whether she could handle a different answer than that, if the girl spoke at all. Maegi didn't know if that was even a thing.

the girl's expression was cool as the woman had a sudden change in demeanor, leaving hotly on nimble heels. astara had no farewell for the woman, though her ear flicked with an idle, almost contemptuous flicker.

the intelligent aubergine of her gaze fell back to maegi, for she had inquired of astara's interrupted sigil. quietly, the night-cub slipped towards the shrine. in her jaws she snagged the clouded stone and in answer presented it at maegi's feet, eyes scanning the disfigured features of the woman to gauge her reaction -- to see if she recognized the seeing stone in which relmyna had often used to commune with their daedra.

Her eyes widened, mouth rounding in a tiny o of shock as Astara put the stone before her. She remembered the magic that had bloomed between her and Relmyna through this object, the power to speak with someone who was voiceless. Speaking of voiceless. . .

Do you know. . .how to use this? Maegi asked, looking at the girl. Did your mother ever show you? Mothers and daughters needed no such aid to communicate even without words; they were connected on a deeper level. Or should be, anyway, in a perfect world. Maegi and Astara, however, did not have the benefit of that connection.

Fur lifting a little in disturbed fascination, she folded herself low and placed her lips on one rounded edge, looking up at the other wolf to see if she'd do the same. As soon as her flesh connected with the smooth surface, the daedra began to chatter, some howling, some whispering, a veritable maelstrom of sounds.

It had been a long while since she had heard all of them at once.

relmyna had been the stone-maven, not astara; her eyes fell at maegi's inquiry. any attempts she had made to reach relmyna, to connect with the daedra, had been fraught with frustration. she lacked the mental clarity of her mother, the void-walking skill of her sister -- and any time she tried to convene with those on the soul cairn's plane, she was simply overwhelmed by the roar of the void.

she mimicked maegi obediently, gently slinking into the earth. reluctant, but willing to be taught if maegi intended to do so, astara nosed the otherworldly token, bracing for the howl.

Yes, that's it, Maegi said as Astara got down to her level, touching her nose to the stone in kind. Focus. Relmyna was able to speak with me through this stone, when she couldn't any other way. Maybe you can, too. She closed her eyes, sorting through the din and trying to find a young, female voice that hadn't previously been there.

Peryite, ñuha āeksio, ñuha ābrar, she murmured, a plea similar to what she'd offered before—except it was to Peryite, and not Mephala, whom she'd abandoned. Thanks to the other Brotherhood, she had more Daedric than before, too. Urnēbagon toliot īlva kesīr.  Dohaeragon nyke rȳbagon skoros ēza naejot ivestragon, sesīr though ēza daor udra.

Somewhere deep within all the whispers and the cries, she heard the Listener, and wondered if Astara heard her, too.

astara focused, but little came. whether it was through hours of hard practice or natural inclination to decipher the torment of the void, it had been relmyna who was gifted — not astara.  

her brow creased in a rumpled frown. under her eyelids her eyes moved rapidly, and her ears strained — but all she could manage to grasp was was an untenable void, as indecipherable as the murky sheen of a mud-frothed river. 

she sighed and broke her connection by pulling away in frustration. she was too tethered to the waking world, and too dismayed by her own failures to have much faith in what maegi so easily had mastered.

She didn't hear anything. Maegi listened, tried, tried—and then Astara broke away, clearly irked. The elder Melonii lifted her head, a gentle frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. She wasn't angry at the girl, she was frustrated that they couldn't communicate like she once had with Relmyna. She thought this would be possible.

Sometimes it's difficult, she said slowly, taste-testing each word. The daedra, I mean. There's a lot going on. Sometimes it's hard to connect. Maybe, if Astara felt better about the whole process, she would be willing to try again.

Maegi looked at the young woman, intrigue lighting her face. But you do pray. . .right? she asked. That's—that's good. That's something.

astara's slim muzzle turned away from the stone, stung with defeat. the stone was perhaps her last true connection with her mother, and she couldn't even figure out how to use it. she wasn't like her mother, she wasn't like averna, and she wasn't like maegi - all of them had some strange affinity for the world beyond theirs that astara had not been given.

she gritted her teeth, frustration mounting even as maegi attempted to be encouraging. she was talentless and stupid, and couldn't even do the one thing that was so heavily favored in their blood that it seemed impossible to not be skilled at. both of her ears pinned abruptly, and the girl issued a pissed off snort before rising and stalking angrily away.

it wasn't maegi's fault, and astara didn't mean to be so curt -- she just missed her mom terribly, and was slowly coming to grips with the realization life wasn't fair to little girls.

And again, Astara stormed away from her. This time, Maegi didn't try to call her back, or rush after the girl—it wouldn't make a difference. She let out a sigh as she watched the shadow go, shoulders slumping a little, and then bent to pick up the stone. She placed it where Astara had, carefully, so as not to disturb the delicate balance of bones atop each other.

She stepped back and observed, then. Curious. It was ghastly, but beautiful, a credit to Peryite and the daedra. Astara might not have the gift of speaking to the gods, but she sure had an eye for aesthetics.

Watch over her, she implored Peryite in a whisper. Guide her steps. Come to her in dreams. For she can be your servant, but only if you reveal yourself to her. She pressed her muzzle to the altar, a quick kiss, and then departed, too, looking for the rotted mouse she'd dropped somewhere along the way.