Blackfeather Woods gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit

backdated to 22nd ish

She hobbled her way to Nightcaller Temple, feeling the strain of the past several days begin to wear her down. By the time she arrived at the sacred place, she was practically struggling for breath between hiccups stifling sobs. Chin tucked nearly into her chest, she made a beeline for the Altar and then collapsed before it, completely and thoroughly going to pieces.

The tears came quickly and easily; interspersed were aching moans of Cass, and why? Her oldest and dearest friend, apart from her brothers—gone. No, not just gone, like the others. Dead.

Sometimes they came back, but you couldn't come back from death. You couldn't.

Never again would Cassiopeia walk into her life, kindness and ferocity balanced together on a knife's edge. The woman had shown Maegi kindness when she hadn't needed to. She had been captive here; she wasn't. . .obligated. . . But she had. And the Melonii had never forgotten her. She was family (now truly in the most traditional sense, after bearing Vaati's brood).

She would always be family.

Peryite, my Lord, my God, she managed in a hoarse whisper, turning tear-swollen eyes toward the Altar. Take her body down with you. Bring her peace. Sithis. . . She trailed off, feeling uneasy. It had been a long time since her prayers had featured the Dread Father. And yet—wasn't it appropriate now, in the face of death?

Maegi swallowed, steadying herself. Sithis, she repeated, her voice stronger now. Watch over her soul in the Void. Let her speak to me when I need her most. A brazen demand of a deity, but she was desperate. Desperate and so terribly lonely. And apprehensive—

Who was next?

The sound of distant crying piqued his interest, and he followed the tin-sounding refrain until it was at its loudest, which did not take long. Sobek had never cried; he had been a sombre baby, growing in to a young boy that appeared to lack the capacity for it. That or he felt safe even in his failures, content to try again and again at things until they were right, but not wasting his energy with unnecessary shows of emotion. He was curious of this sound and that was the end of it. What caused the sad song to drift between the trees? It could have been a raven, he thought. They each held their own voice, their calls changing all the time.

But when he slipped around the corner of the altar to the sounds dying out, he saw his mother. Her crying had not ceased - merely been smothered with a tip of her chin. His ears trembled and showed his uncertainty in the way they twisted, quick, like the fluttering of moth wings. She was speaking, too. Nobody was here but him, so... Sobek presumed she spoke to him, and slunk close.

Rather than interrupt whatever she was doing, he leaned his narrow, runty figure against her hip and propped his chin against her knee. The boy was silent, absorbent, not moving a muscle even when he recognized some of the names she spoke. When she was finished, Sobek flicked his tongue - almost snake-like - and lightly nosed at her side to try and comfort her.

As she spoke, she became aware that she wasn't alone, and a familiar, comforting scent wreathed around her. . .Sobek. She pulled his still form close, still murmuring in Daedric. After a few minutes, she fell silent. The world had shrank to just her son and her, and she was content with that for now. It was all she could handle in the moment.

Cassiopeia was my first friend, she whispered, unsure if she was talking to the boy or to herself—or to no one, really, at all. The words just came. She was kind to me, when I hadn't been shown a lot of kindness. She didn't have to be kind, but she was. I. . .I can't believe she's gone.

Her voice was changed, somewhat, different from the tone she'd adopted over the past moons. It rang high and clear, as if she were once more the little girl Cass had stumbled upon all that time ago and not the scarred, seasoned woman that half-lay here now, a child in her embrace. She recognized the change and thought nothing of it; deep down, she had never really grown up. She would always be that girl.

And it was the girl that mourned now, not the woman. Maegi was unsure if her grown self even had the capacity to mourn, beyond the throes of madness.

Sobek was patient. He did not know what he was waiting for, but he was quiet and present, becoming a confessor for his mother in the moment. He watched her carefully; saw the way her eyes stared dimly at the altar; the taut curves of her face and where the sadness collected like dark circles under them. When she spoke it was with a louder voice which he appreciated, but there was a different quality to it that he could not fully identify. Weighted, almost, and then altogether too light for what he was used to hearing. Maegi was usually very open when speaking to her children; now she seemed guarded, as if she were sharing something deeply precious.

She spoke of a friendship the likes of which young Sobek could not fathom. The boy wondered if he had a first friend of similar importance and immediately thought of Anansi and Sakhmet, which made him feel quite pleased with himself for having two while his mother had managed only one. But in the quiet he thought about the woman, Cassiopeia. He did not know her well while she was alive, and Maegi never spoke of aunts or uncles (nor the concept of any extended relations) so he thought, maybe a friend couldn't be a brother or a sister? Maybe it was someone else entirely - like Rowan, his mind offered. He could make Rowan his first friend in that case, in fact he would like it very much.

But Maegi had stopped talking. It had not been long, but Sobek felt immediately guilty for letting his mind wander. He probed at her softly with his nose, then after nibbling faintly at her nearby hip, he asked, Where did you find her? He hoped mostly to keep her talking. The more she focused on her stories the less she could cry, and Sobek hated to see his mother crying.

Her eyelids fluttered shut at Sobek's gentle touch, his voice weaving through her mind like the sweetest of breezes. Maegi smiled, taking a deep breath in through congested nostrils and thus wheezing slightly.

She found me, she said simply, remembering the scene as if she were within it now, rather than recalling it from thousands of hours away—

She was very beautiful, her coloring the polar opposite of Potema's. Her green eyes were luminous in the darkness of Blackfeather Woods. She also looked kind, and Maegi leapt at the opportunity to socialize, with a smile, albeit a shaky one, at her new companion.

My childhood was not like yours, Maegi continued, opening her eyes to look at her pale-eyed son. My mother didn't want me. The circumstances of my birth made me something she didn't want, and something that the rest of the pack didn't really trust. But Cassiopeia came, and she played a game with me. She didn't have to, but she did. I never forgot.

One large black paw came suddenly at her nose, and she backed away and dropped the stick, surprised by the touch. No one but her siblings had touched her beyond necessity. With a couple of blinks, she was silent for a beat, then let out a squeal of a giggle, wagging her tail. It appeared that this wolf, with the smile on her face, was attempting to play after all.

Her eyes welled up and silent tears spilled over; nevertheless, her voice remained steady. She was a good woman, she murmured. Fierce but kind. Brave, loving. She was everything I wanted my own mother to be for me. And Potema was, she was! But not for Maegi. Never for Maegi.

Sobek did not understand. He could not fathom what it meant to be unwanted; his mother had always been loving to him, desirous of his safety and his company, and that of his siblings. He had no memory of his birth mother Parvati; but even she had wanted him for a time, at least until her sickness had taken hold, at least until Maegi's own sickness had done away with her. They were wanted. In hearing that his beloved mother had lived through a hardship he clustered against her, looking evermore like a pile of red fungus sprouting from the bony protrusion of her side; but he was there, close, warm, the weight of his thin body proving he was real while the flicking of his tongue - his serpentine kisses - proved his love as best he could manage.

And still he listened to the take of Maegi and Cassiopeia. It was not as detailed as some of Ena's stories, but it was still deeply appreciated, and he appeared to deeply feel the significance of it; staring at the dirt with wide eyes, his ears slicked back, he was silent — but in truth, deep down he felt nothing. It was only a story. Sobek could not be expected to fully grasp the experience of it as he had nothing to compare it to, not really.

Fierce but kind, brave, loving... Maegi was commending her friend, but the words did not tug at Sobek's attention. He smelled salt; he looked up and saw the glimmering of silver against his beloved's cheeks and hoisted himself up, planting a paw against her shoulder, reaching with his snaggletoothed snout to sniff at the tears running down her gaunt cheeks. He licked at them - they were sweet.

He drew close and began to lick the tears off her face; Maegi couldn't resist a smile, a girlish giggle that bubbled up too quickly to stifle. Sweet Sobek, she whispered, eyes finding his form, so near to her. Kind Sobek. Always be kind, tresy. The world is full of enough bad things; be brave, stand up to them, but never stop being kind.

Perhaps she had misread his curiosity, but for now, Maegi saw only her loving son. She was biased. Heavily biased.

Have you seen Scylla around? she asked, voice as quiet as before but with a different ring to it, more querulous. The dark-furred girl? She's lost both her mother and her sister; I'm worried about her. And maybe Vaati, too; actually, she hadn't seen either her brother nor Cass's remaining daughter. Had the death of the mother fractured the entire family, just as the trembling earth had ripped strong trees from their roots?

He had not ever thought of himself as brave, and could not fathom why such a feeling would be necessary. At this point in his life Sobek was surrounded by family members who could keep him safe; these bad things had yet to interrupt his development, although it wouldn't be long before the chaos of the quaking earth ruined everything. As he fell back to the forest floor he watched his mother, his ears pivoting slightly as she mentions another child — one he has only the thinnest, most vague recollection of.

Scylla? That was a name he did not hear often. He shook his head. She can be my sister, then. He offered innocently, tilting his head ever so slightly as he proclaimed this.

See? Kind. He was kind. Maegi smiled, nuzzling into her son. I think she would like that very much, she murmured into his wine-dark pelt, smoothing stray hairs here and there. How old was too old to baby your children? Whatever the line was, Maegi was sure she was going to push it.

Maybe Scylla wouldn't get along with Sobek. Cass's kids were quite fierce, after all, and Sobek. . .well, he wasn't soft, but he didn't have the razor-sharp tongue of the girls, either. At least not to her knowledge. However, she was alone. She might take any companion she could get.

How about you, tresy? she asked, pulling away slightly to meet the pale gaze. Her mourning was subsiding, supplanted by caring for her son. How are you? Are you okay? She imagined the shaking might be traumatic for the children. Hell, it was traumatic for her.

It seemed as if his company had helped. His mother wasn't crying as openly and she was focused, composed, and had he the capability Sobek would have been happy for her. He was a bit sullen instead—wishing he could kiss away her tears some more and study the way her face had tensed with subtle emotion. She asked after his own wellbeing and the boy shrugged his little shoulders.

The boy's pale eyes turned to the altar, then. He studied the drying dots where Maegi's tears had fallen.

I don't like the tunnels anymore. Admits Sobek with a shy glance up to his mother's face, his ears slanting back on his head. When the shakes come the tunnels make funny noises. Sometimes they get dusty, and I don't like it. Likely from one cave-in or another, but Sobek doesn't know that. He figures that the tunnels are like his belly, and sometimes his belly hurts so sometimes the tunnels must hurt, and maybe it was a symptom—a sign of something bigger and scarier on its way.

Her mouth firmed in obvious worry as he spoke, eyes drifting downward, as if cutting through the earth to see the tunnels. Stay above ground, Sobek, she commanded, voice soft but firm. Whatever has been happening to the ground lately. . .it's too dangerous to find yourself in a place where it's hard to escape.

If only she would follow her own advice, just days later!

She nuzzled the top of his head. I know you like it down there, tresy, she cooed, her smile returning. Hopefully, it'll be safe enough to explore the tunnels again soon.

The tunnels reminded her of Mou, though, and that was a feeling she found hard to shake. As if he still lurked down there, pale and gaunt. Hiding from a world that'd wronged him.

The boy had learned quickly that the tunnels were a danger and he barely listened when Maegi confirmed it, mostly focusing on the look in her eye, the way she watched him. Her tone had shifted from sad to -- something he might've found endearing, had the the capacity. Maegi was a doting mother who protected her brood, and he trusted in her, although Sobek did not feel a particular fondness for the way she babied him. He did not speak to this nor give any hints to his thoughts, though, preferring instead to accept her nuzzling and affection as it was freely given. When she stopped he pestered at her for more, pawing at her, butting at her with his forehead or lightly gnawing with his crooked teeth.

Maegi giggled slightly, returning his playful antics with nose boops of her own. She was a child again, playing with her own boy—oh, how time flew! Strange that things had changed so much and yet remained the same; the foundation of everything was timeless.

Cass, do you see me? Do you see us? Without the spangled-pelted woman, things may have ended up quite differently for Maegi.

For kindness, for love, for acceptance. . .she was grateful.

wrap this up?