Blackwater Islands driftwood

driftwood

Down, down she went, into the icy depths, only to bob back up like a cork. Choking on salt water, the waves pressing her head beneath the surface again and again.

Her flailing paws hitting something slick

driftwood

Her cheek pressed against the cold damp. Her eyes near-swollen shut.

The waves undulating, carrying her out to sea

driftwood

@Driftwood. She remembered that; she remembered him, from Undersea. Was he dead, too? Perhaps he had taken shape within this namesake, a battered shard of sequoia floating below the cliffs.

A cosmic hug from an old friend. Taking her away, taking her to another life.

How soon would she see them all again?

She closed her eyes

driftwood

and opened them, washed up among rocks, the bark caught in straggling damp fur and her lungs on fire as she sputtered and coughed and heaved in huge gasps for air

driftwood

If this was the Void, it was gray as hell, and fucking freezing.

Perhaps it would get better.

but

driftwood

her breathing still came

and the pain remained

"Heh. I'm not finished with you yet, my dear," came Sheogorath's voice, vibrating through the

driftwood

and then it was carried off to sea again,

leaving her here to

live

the early hours of morning were spent in the speaker’s frigid den. silent was she, attentive to. her eyes were fixed upon her stomach with breath hitched for what felt like an eternity. she waited life to writhe within her.

too early, she thought.

the sun stood above the earth now. morgana had emerged from the den.

should she seek out melena? tell her of her deed?
not yet. it was too early.

morgana’s mind was in a distant place as she roamed the shore. a place filled with distant noise that did not cease.
but it hushed when she saw her. a waterlogged woman.

morgana’s approach was slow. at a certain point she stopped. far enough to avoid frightened teeth, but close enough to confirm whether or not she still lived.

She registered an approaching scent even above the pungent salt & detritus odor of the sea, but it was a while before she could muster the strength to open her eyes, and when she eventually did, the lids peeled upward, achingly slowly, revealing slits of indigo in a skeletal face.

A pair of eyes met hers, glowing in the dim light. One blue, one green, vivid against a night-black pelt.

Nyx, Maegi croaked, and then her ears flattened, lips lifting to reveal her teeth. A growl gurgled in her throat; this must be the Void, then, and so the torment would begin.

Where's Damien? she went on, her voice barely above a ragged whisper. He can't be too far off—you two were always stuck to each other.

It was only a matter of time, because though she felt the air in her lungs and turned to see the rise and fall of springy ribs, she knew she was dead, and she knew it was time to face all those who had made her life so wretched.

"Yes, fight, little girl. Let yourself go mad."

she stirred. slowly, but still. she stirred. her mispaired eyes rose to meet her own. as the woman studied her, ferocity contorted her features.

all but morgana’s tail kept still, which slowly whisked back and forth. much like a feline who’s attention was drawn by something interesting.

she addressed morgana as nyx. she knew nothing of the name.
but damien.

she’d heard the name. wolves of her past spoke of him in passing. they told her disjointed details about this man. they were attempts to guide her towards old memories, long abandoned and forgotten.

this information held little significance to her then and the same could be said now.
still, morgana was curious as to how this woman knew of him.

those questions could wait. there were more pressing matters to attend to.

i am not nyx. damien is not here.

she took a step back. do you know where you are?

Her vision was slowly adjusting, following the swishing of the woman's tail, and as she spoke, Maegi scrutinized her more carefully. 

No. . .no, she was right. This wasn't Nyx. There was no stardust sprinkled in her fur, nor silver to rim her eyes like moons. This wolf was night-black and the blue eye was deeper, darker, closer to—

Yes, she replied. She tried to stand, or even sit, but it was like an immeasurable weight held her down; what felt like monumental effort to her probably barely registered as a twitch to her inquisitor. She sighed. The Void, of course. We're dead.

She narrowed her gaze. You know Damien, Maegi continued. It wasn't a question. Gaomagon ao dohaeragon Mephala?

It had been a while since Daedric had graced her tongue, and the feel and sound of it turned her blood to ice.

she knew. or she thought she knew. according to her it was the void. death. the end of earth.

in reality it was far past that.

the woman mentioned damien once more with narrowed eyes. she insisted morgana knew him. she was right in a sense. she knew of him.

she spoke nothing of it though. only hummed beneath her breath.

then the woman spoke the daedric tongue. she should’ve expected it; she knew damien after all. somehow. still, it took morgana by surprise. she hadn’t expected to hear it here, nor speak it herself.

nyke gōntan, she answered. sir nyke dohaeragon iā arlie jaes.

it felt wrong to say aloud. as though she just admitted to treason. she did not expect discomfort to creep up her spine.

to soothe this feeling she says, iā jaes hen naenie faces. mephala jittan nyke visions hen mēre qilōni pōnta ȳdragon naejot. and it works.

morgana stood up straighter. you have washed up on the islands that belong to that wolf. tell me your name. now. and where you’ve come from.

Her eyes widened, but she should have expected it. Hearing the tongue of her family soothed her, as if she were within the Glen once more, learning from Miraak. Who must be here, somewhere—

Islands?! Maegi shook her head as to clear it. No. This. . .

Bewildered, she placed her chin upon outstretched paws and looked up at the woman, totally at her mercy. (What else was new?) Maegi Blackfeather. Born a Melonii. I tracked my husband's scent to the cliff and when it ended, I threw myself into the sea.

Her gaze became very serious, then, sharp and appraising. Am I dead, or dreaming?

morgana hummed her affirmation. islands they were, yes, but they were beyond simple landmarks. something greater than them all lies here. this woman was blessed to be guided here.

the woman. maegi.
melonii.

recognition glinted within her full gaze.
maegi blackfeather. they spoke curses of her.

morgana inhaled deeply.

questions could wait.

you are alive. she exhaled. you’ve been granted a second life. and you are lucky to be here.

the world beyond the sea was broken.

stay here. let us heal you.

I don't want to live anymore, Maegi rejoined, shaking her head. Her voice broke on a sob, and she pressed her muzzle into the sea-slick rocks. I've lost everything. My mate, my children, my home. I can't go on.

She was shivering, violently so, from the cold and damp, and perhaps if she just let herself slip away. . .

"Ha! Sorry. Not an option, my little lady."

Tell me who you are, she said, words muffled. She turned tear-filled eyes, now brimming with anger, upon the shadow. Tell me who in gods' name you are to make this choice for me.

A merciful woman would let her die. But she knew that in the other's paws, she would fight for someone weak and helpless at her doorstep. It made sense, but—

LET ME DIE!

"Quiet, you miserable fool."

morgana saw this chance she was given as a marvelous gift. she acted as though this was to be her downfall. she sobbed into the sand. cried over family and home. simple things that only mattered in her life beyond the sea. it’s meaningless here. meaningless to the nightshade who stood above her in cool silence. stared into her steaming glare with a dull gaze.
in this life, she was part of something greater. could she not understand?

pitiful thing.

this is not my decision. she shook her head. the god has willed this. they’ve given you this second life for a reason.

she whispers, do not waste it.

then paused.

i am the speaker.

If the woman thought Maegi was going to let nonsensical niceties assuage her fears, she had another thing coming. The Melonii had been through too much shit over too many seasons to take it lying down.

Your name, she hissed. Her gaze focused sharply on that one indigo orb. I may not know who you are, but I know what you are. That eye is the color of my brother's. My cousins'. My daughter. Who are you to me?

She shook her head, muttering Daedric obscenities under her breath. The Speaker, she echoed. That's some old Blackfeather Woods nonsense if I ever heard it—

What was happening? Where was she? And why did this woman speak to her as if she were still a child?

Maegi's first life had been bad enough; she sure as hell didn't want this "second life" suddenly thrust upon her.

her words sealed the anger within the woman. A fire blazed within her eye. she demanded a name from her. she claimed to know what she was.

she was so clung to her past. the elder woman sighed and shook her head.

morgana.

she knew who she was to maegi blackfeather. but that did not matter now.

are you satisfied? her lip twitched as she spoke.

Morgana. 

Satisfied? No. No, she'd never be satisfied. But she gave a curt nod, letting herself lapse into—

"Stop. Remain."

Morgana Melonii, she muttered, sighing. Her eyelids began to droop, falling heavily upon her still-bright gaze. 

What's in this for me. . .

Sleep was tugging hard, and she was unwilling to resist it; she began to drift, the shadow-woman blurring before her.

I wan' Mou. . .

morgan’s answer dowsed the fire that burned within the woman. the exhaustion that lay heavy in the air around her seemed to weigh her down within an instant. she voice dragged within her throat. her lids barely opened.

she asks for something of this.

hush. rest now, she crooned. you will know in time.

we can archive here if you’d like!