Lion Head Mesa she is gone, but she used to be mine

The poppy flowers in the garden had long gone, and alongside the healers, herbalists and others of spiritual nature, Maegi had harvested the seeds. She kept her own private stash, in case Tavina decided to hold out on her one of these days. 

It was necessary, for she spent each day now in an opiate stupor.

This one was deeper than usual; she was drowning this evening, sinking through the ground, and Sheogorath was urging her upright—

"Giving up, Maegi? I thought better of you."

Piss off, she muttered into the cool floor of her shaded living quarters, and rolled onto her side. She was wasting away, gaunt and angular; Jakoul was her only happiness. The pups were growing, but she didn't visit.

She'd heard one of them was blind, and the other shirked the sun.

How fitting, them being parasites.

i know we already have one but... <3 let me know if any assumptions aren't okay and i can edit!

Jakoul stayed in Maegi's place.

The days she slept away near the mouth of the den, so she might bolt awake if somebody unwelcomed came this way. When the sun began to settle on the dusty horizon was when she stirred more consciously. It was in her first waking moments she heard the mumbles of Maegi.

"Piss off,"

A tall ear flicked, her head turned to look back and spotted the pale form of Maegi spread along the cool floor. She looked comfortable. Which was an odd descriptor when Jakoul knew the pulsing state of her pale companion.

She picked herself up, only to shuffle a bit closer and settle near the melted form of the former Nona.

Something low and warm rumbled in her throat as she peered with big, pale eyes at Maegi. She cared little if the woman was in a poppy haze or not. It was the closeness and the support of each other that mattered most.

Her head lolled back, finding Jakoul at the edge of her chamber. Her bi-colored eyes lit upon her dark Morta, her companion, and she watched her for a long moment before speaking.

Have I told you about my parents? she asked.

The air felt thick around her. Her limbs felt like lead. She was content to lay still, and as long as she ignored Sheogorath's incessant cackling, she could focus on her friend.

What a life.

If the story had been told, Jakoul could not recall — nor did she mind hearing more of Maegi's voice. Anything to serve as a reminder that the woman was still above ground.

The former Morta shifted, head craning back so she could stare at Maegi.

No. Tell? She invited with a few lazy thumps of her tail against the cool ground. Life was very different in Akashingo than the days they had ruled Blackfeather together, but these moments stirred memories back to life.

Both good and bad.