Blackfeather Woods my legs refused to walk away

the revulsion writ onto maegi's features gave relmyna pause; she turned the words of the young priestess over in her mind — she committed the name skullchaser to memory. alone, it meant nothing, but he had been a beast to lay violence upon maegi. relmyna cursed his seed easily within the recesses of her mind and let it alone for now. 
her offer was not accepted, and it was confusing for the woman, or perhaps she had equated melonii haughtiness with ambition. was there a chance maegi did not wish to rule the wood? it was difficult for relmyna to imagine that the wood would not go to a child of cicero, but perhaps —
ravenflight; they lifted and winged themselves up and up and up into the eldritch glow. a slow stare after them, a sigh that seemed to expand her muscles out and out and out, until her body seemed to unravel. she looked at maegi. because there is more than one way to serve blackfeather as listener. i am not a melonii, and yet — here she gestured to the homage of red along her shoulder — i am chosen.
i use my own prayers, i follow the mother. and i am old, to be beginning my service to the gods. a glow filled her turquoise gaze; if maegi permitted, relmyna reached to brush her pale cheek. i have always wished it to be you.
did cicero watch them now, and if he did, was this pleasing before him?