Blackfeather Woods hush, my baby; baby, don't you cry

Peryite, my lord, my god, receive my prayer. . .

The Daedric prayer began, traveling on and on, detailing each and every one of her blessings in life and giving thanks for all of them. A rotting squirrel, gone bad before it could be plucked from the cache to consume, was placed atop the altar, beneath the thin shadows of the bones placed there.

Relmyna. Can you hear me? She often reached out to the old Listener, attempting to make amends. But the Void was loud and fathomless, and she could not sort through the voices to find the woman. Perhaps she was hiding. Perhaps Relmyna was disappointed with Maegi, for leaving at the worst possible moment. I'm sorry.

Help Relmyna to forgive me, o Peryite, Maegi whispered, stomach churning. Help her to see why—

Sudden nausea struck, and she bent, retching, drool trailing from her lips. It seemed for a moment like it would be just that—just dry heaves—and Maegi straightened once more, only to double over again with something more akin to pain. Bile—hot, stinging—

Vomit splattered on the ground, the remnants of her last meal. She was about to turn away from it in disgust when she noticed. . .movement. . .among the steaming chunks. A long, thin creature, a tiny snake, weaving its way through the waste. She must have made a sound, for it lifted its faceless head to stare (how did one stare without eyes? yet it did so) directly at her, sending fear through her already-trembling form.

Maegi. Peryite. Come in the form of pestilence, naturally. Your children will be born soon. Two beautiful boys, twins—tiny manifestations of those most dear to you.

Thank you, she murmured, not knowing what else to say. Peryite, apparently satisfied with the response, dived back beneath the vomit and began to writhe. . .in time with the frantic pounding of her heart.

The ghost had been adrift —

He did not know for how long, or why, anymore.

He had forgotten to be afraid of sleep. Craved it now, but couldn't settle enough. Fits and starts, mostly; fleeting handfuls of moments that pass too quickly, fade too sharply.

Peryite, my lord, he heard someone calling beyond the trees; or maybe the trees held a voice of their own, and called to the daedra of their own volition. He drifts. He sees.

Titmouse has managed on an hour of sleep, if that, for quite a few weeks now. It shows in the red-rim of his eyes, the dragging of his steps. It feels like he's been hollowed-out. He spends so many moments watching and waiting for time to pass and night to fall, then as the night blooms he struggles—

Help her-- the trees pray.

Slowly Titmouse drifts closer, pausing where the trees form a gap. He leans his pale figure against them and they tremble to his weight but that is all; it is nothing, like a breath of wind betwixt them. He thinks he's watching himself at the altar but he hears something clearly—sharp, familiar—a thank you.

Some clarity restores itself to his one-eye. Maegi...? He murmurs, his first word in days.

Maegi. . .

It was like a ghost had spoken, but she knew it wasn't so. She turned with joy in her eyes and heart to look upon her beloved nearby. Mou, she breathed; the word was barely audible. He'd have to catch the shape of it on her lips. Maegi beckoned him closer, gaze blurring with tears.

Our children will be born soon, she murmured, once he'd come close enough to hear. Twin boys. Peryite told me. Oh, Mou. . . I know they'll be perfect. They're ours.

She lurched slowly forward, pressing her face into his neck. Bile still stung the corners of her mouth, but now so too did the tracks of tears, sharp and salty. It all came together in a mess of sensation, and for a moment, she thought she'd vomit again—but it passed, leaving her only with utter relief. Mou. Her sweet, wonderful Mou.

I love you, Maegi whispered fervently.

She finds him — she always does, somehow — and watches him, listens, speaks; the words that flow from her catch in his ears and in his current state Titmouse only hears bits and pieces. The rest are mutated by exhaustion and delusion, and he hears others. Other voices, other words, whispers that scatter like static. But he drifts closer and with one eye, observes her swollen sides. Remembers - in a haze - the dreamlike coupling that he endured for her, the shame he felt.

I love you, he hears clearly through the chaos of static. He smiles, or thinks he smiles anyway. Feels the tugging of his cheeks and the feeling of air upon his gums — truthfully, he doesn't do anything but linger near her in silence, resolute and grim and empty, so empty. So tired... And with a breath he murmurs, Luh you, and presses his cold nose against the thinning fur along her sides, perhaps trying to convey something to what brew within.

Luh you, and he touched her, and she shivered. . .but with joy, not fear. To have him so close, so near—she felt as if she hadn't seen him in so long. Hadn't felt his presence in so long. And Maegi didn't realize how detrimental his absence was until this moment, and she drew closer, pressing herself into his scrawny frame, wanting to fuse herself with him permanently.

So that he could never run away again. So that she could never run away again. Wherever they went. . .it would be the two of them.

I miss you, Mou, Maegi whispered, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. I'm sorry there's been distance between us. I want you beside me. I want you by my side. I'm sorry if. . .if I've made you think otherwise. With everything. The incident with Abraxas. Their awkward coupling. Her insistence that he remain hidden. All done in his best interest, mind. . .but she could see, now, how it might be misconstrued.

I really love you, she breathed, a sigh ruffling his pale pelt like wind upon a field of grass.