Blackfeather Woods [m] i've known everything but this

She returned to one of her caches, where she'd stashed the volatile hallucinogen Abraxas had brought her. The visions it had given her were too irresistible to forget, and so. . . She pulled the bundle down and began to nose at it, taking in its sharp, pungent scent. Bitter. The taste even more so. She lapped it up and laid down, ready to speak with the daedra. Her eyes fluttered shut.

When she opened them, the trees were oozing. Not blood, like last time, but some sort of rancid slime, a green-brown. Like swamp mud, but far more foul. Half-decayed animals lurched her way, some of them missing legs, others heads. And insects—they were everywhere. Spiders, slugs, centipedes, mosquitoes. The flying ones buzzed around in a swarm; the crawlers remained a dark carpet at her paws.

And oddly enough, she felt no fear. She knew this was Peryite, as all was pestilence.

Maegi, came the familiar, almost sneering voice, a whisper at the base of her ear. She shivered, slightly, and resisted the urge to look around her. My child. My little princess. You've come home. You've gotten what you wanted.

Not everything, ñuha mēre drēje Jaes, but close, she answered, and then lapsed completely into Daedric—uttering words she had no knowledge of, otherwise. But then, that was the jimson weed. Eman māzigon lenton, yn nyke dōrī geptot ao.

She turned her eyes to a deer, half-skeletal, half its face—like hers—obliterated by a snapping blow to the cheek. The avatar, then. Skoros gaomagon ao jaelagon yno, ñuha Jaes? Maegi asked, lips slightly parted as she waited for the response.

All was silent, for a long while. And then. . . Nothing for now, my dear. Nothing for now. But here, I want you to meet a friend of mine. A good friend. Meridia?

The insects vanished, the animals scattered, the trees stopped dripping. Suddenly, everything was an abundant green, greener than she'd ever seen, not only here but anywhere. Sunlight, bright and warm. The chirping of birds, the fresh scent of new flowers. And—

Oh. . . Maegi breathed, for before her stood the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, cloaked in a pale pelt—like hers—with flowers adorning her body. The nymph stepped closer, and kissed the Melonii's forehead; she smelled so sweet, and was so soft. Maegi wanted. . .oh, she wanted to curl close to her and sleep, forever. A blissful daze overtook her, and she nearly forgot herself until the other began to speak.

Maegi. I am Meridia, and I am here to tell you that you will be a mother, she whispered, a breathtaking smile upon her face. She moved past Maegi slightly, as if walking on clouds, and then pressed her muzzle to her belly; Maegi couldn't resist a small jump at the sudden touch. I have blessed your womb, my beautiful girl. You will bear fruit. Now go, go and find the wolf that has your heart.

Her brow furrowed at that, because her first thought was—Ramsay? But no, it couldn't be, for her mother and father had also been. . . No. It couldn't be. That meant there was only one other.

But how. . .? Maegi asked, but the woman was already padding away from her in an elegant sidestep, her face still serene. You will know, dear, sweet Melonii; you will know. Go to him. And as she walked into the trees, the green began to fade into darkness, the flowers retreated, the sun set and the moon rose high and shrouded in clouds.

And then she was alone.

Unsure of whether or not she was still under the influence of the hallucinogen (she most certainly was) she rose and began to quest through the woods, looking for @Titmouse.

The ghost lingered in the caves for most of the daylight hours, knowing well enough that it was not a permanent solution to any problems yet finding the tunnels to be a comfort, which was odd considering his history with them. The more he mapped of them, learned of them, the less nervous he became. He could find his way through most of the major tunnels of the web without light; when you only had one eye to judge the world with, it became easier to adapt to full blindness.

He slunk from the depths beneath Blackfeather Woods from a hidden grotto, a gap of stonework netted by moss and vine so dense that it had taken him multiple days to clear a path for himself. It was a secret hideaway among the vast blackness of the wood, something that was solely his own. He had hoped to clean it up, make it fit to share — but it would take weeks of work and there were other things to tend to. So for the time being he gave up; he would find the time another day, or another night, but it would be done.

Titmouse made his way through the caves again, reveling in the darkness and the frigidity of the air until his flesh felt too numb. He wanted to find Maegi. It seemed like he hadn't seen her in a week or more — his sense of time having become corrupted due to his amount of time spent below ground.

He ducked through a corridor and out, in to the slanting spring light which wasn't exactly warm, but was certainly a different sensation than the stale air he had been breathing. He winced as a thick shaft of light caught across his face, breaking through the canopy of pinewood, and swerved in to a shadow; blinking rapidly, shaking off the dust that clung to his coat from the web's innards as he stalked among the ferns.

Then he noticed it — a sharp familiar scent, one that warmed his core. He paused and took a moment to sweep his limited gaze across the tangled paths, then set off again — long limbs carrying him swiftly through the forest, until finally he came to a gap (which he nearly dashed by without slowing) and spotted the pale shape he so loved. Titmouse punched the earth with his forepaws to slow himself, then lunged the other direction, heading through the trees towards her.

As always, Titmouse was silent. He drew closer and closer, not finding anything amiss — they had certainly shared many hours of poppy together, so if Maegi had a glazed look or anything, he did not feel disturbed by it. She was beautiful. She would always be beautiful.

On and on she went, in a dream, in a haze, the trees both streaking past and bleeding into the darkness. Everything seemed to. . .pulse. She felt it deep within her, too, like a second heartbeat. It made her nauseous, but she liked it, in a very strange dichotomy. Pulse and spin.

Oh, the woods were so beautiful!

And then she saw him and broke into a slow, hobbling trot, suddenly breathless and trembling with anticipation. Her eyes were wide and staring, her lips parted slightly, shivers like the tiny feet of spiders down her spine.

Mou—

I want your babies, Maegi blurted, quickly realizing that sounded. . .kind of ridiculous. She shook her head. Wait. I mean, I want babies. . .with you. I want to have pups with you. I need to, Mou; Meridia told me so! She gesticulated wildly to her flank, trying to illustrate the dire situation.

She said she blessed my womb; it has to happen! Except. . . She trailed off, looking away, daring only a shy glance from the corner of her eye toward him. I, uh, I don't know how. I don't know what to do; I thought babies just sort of happened if you wanted them. Do they?

The excitement, the rush, was beginning to be replaced by a slow and creeping sense of dread.

They locked gazes; her two-toned, his -- well, singular. Between the two of them there was one whole face, anyway. One heart. His thundered whenever he caught sight of her and filled him with such goodness, such warmth and love and adoration, that he thought he could die happy just for being within sight of her — but he was here in their shared home and they shared so much more than that. It was surreal to him but at the same time, so right.

Except for the surprising volley of words that erupted from her. Well, that was right too,
he wanted
— he'd tried to —

Wait what was going on here? Why all of a sudden?

His ears tilted to either side, like awkward black horns. Maegi motioned to the shadows behind herself and Titmouse hastily glanced there but, seeing nothing, and flustered by her abrupt shift of attention back to him, he was just struggling to keep up. But slowly he processed her words, her questions, so surprisingly innocent and forceful. Everything he'd wanted, really.

The boy opened his mouth; gaping for a second, trying to think of the words to explain but then when he tried to say them, they were wheezes, rasps, breaths. He couldn't quite form what he was thinking in to words, and his thoughts were too fast to process to begin with. It was a little bit too much for the ghost right now. But he wanted her - above all else, to keep her safe and happy and to provide whatever she wanted — his love knowing no limits.

So, instead of speaking, he acted. Closing the distance between them and burrowing his nose against her scruff, at first. Tasting the air around her. It was --- it was different, but not what he expected. Undetered, Titmouse began move around her with deliberate steps in case this wasn't what she wanted, or she changed her mind; he drew his touch along the curve of her throat, met his shoulder against her's and dragged softly, mingling their fur. Getting nearer to where he needed to be and yet, leaving ample time for consideration.

He gave her no words, no words. Maegi was perfectly content with Mou's quiet nature—she loved him for it—but she needed to know. She needed him to explain this to her, because right now, she felt like she was stumbling through the forest, blind and deaf. She had no notion of what to expect, of what to do. She was someone who craved knowledge at every turn, and the absence of it was terrifying.

But then he approached and began to touch her, and. . . She felt something she hadn't before. The nausea increased, but again, in a good way; her stomach began to turn slowly upon itself, and she felt a tightening between her hindquarters that seemed—strange? But good? Yes, very good, and she let out a sound that was almost a purr, eyes fluttering half-shut.

So you know what to do, Maegi murmured, less a question than a hazy realization. A smile had seeped slowly over her muzzle, curved slyly at the corners. You'll—you'll show me what to do. Okay. That's fine. I trust you. And she did, too, and let herself relax, believing that he had only her best interests at heart.

It was exhilarating, throwing wide open the doors of her body and soul. She'd never done it for anyone else before, and she might not ever do it for anyone else again.

Yes, he knew what to do. It should have been easy to focus upon Maegi in this moment; she crooned to him, her voice imbued with more lust than love (but really what was the difference) and it was what he'd always wished for. Someone to love him, someone he could love in exchange — she was his everything he knew how to achieve what she wanted. Yet as Titmouse doled out his affection he found his mind wandering to the hazy memories of his past; these things which no longer mattered but at the same time, seemed so important in the moment. All those blunders — all those people he has wronged, and none more-so than his own sister R— one of the namesake birds of the woodland shrieked a call above them, and launched from its roost.

Jarred from the wandering thoughts, Titmouse stutter-stepped, drawing hesitantly away from the flank of his beloved. He was shocked by the visceral reaction of his body and felt the passion wilt for a moment. Maegi was still consoling him — yearning for him, claiming to trust him, but something rotten lived deep inside of Titmouse; some black mark, festering and polluting him. He resisted the pull of her desire in lieu of a lingering self-doubt, and turned away. The last thing that Titmouse wanted to ever, ever do was hurt Maegi. He felt his heartbeat thrumming in his chest he felt like it was going to burst, like he couldn't inhale deeply enough. Like the shadows swimming throughout the woods were calling to something twisted and wrong deep inside of him.

Titmouse felt deeply ashamed of himself. Not for the sudden change in his response to the woman he loved (although there was guilt for that, somewhere), but for all the evil that had worked its way through him. The more he wanted Maegi, the more he remembered the feeling of all his previous attempts and many failures — Sorina; Raven; what if he couldn't do what she asked? What if this hurt her too? He gasps, and retreats back from her, as if stung.

She was adrift on the waves of sensation, perfectly content with what this was, where she stood. Her eyes closed for real but colors still pulsed in the darkness, bright and dark all at once, moving along with the blood in her veins. All she knew was that she would have children, she would have children with Mou, and she would love them more fervently than anyone loved anyone ever before.

So lost in this reverie was Maegi that she didn't notice the absence of his touch for a short while—but when she did, it was like a cold, northern wind blowing much too early into summertime.

Her eyes popped open, and she turned her head to find him facing away, looking stiff, uneasy. Mou? Maegi said softly, brows knitting with concern. Shadow-things were popping out at her from the trees; for a moment, a heartstopping moment, she thought he might see something, like an intruder. But she moved to catch a glimpse of his face and found no alarm there, only. . .

Mou? she asked again, in a different tone. Her heart felt like it was permanently lodged in her throat. Every flaw felt amplified, as if put on parade for all to see and scorn. What's wrong? Am I. . . Did I do something wrong?

She was silly to have given herself so freely. But—Meridia!—she'd said so!—

He loved her so much, so very much more than he loved himself or anyone he'd ever met in his life - many lives. Through all of that he'd hurt so many people; his body grew tense with his wanting, with his lust, but worse still because of the guilt.
He had so much guilt over mistakes made as a child. A fool! He was a fool; he began that way, the destroyer of all good things —
and Maegi was so good, he couldn't
— he loved her, but he couldn't — Did I do something wrong?

The decima had been staring forlorn upon the shadows, the dirt, but not seeing it for what it was. When Maegi spoke she jarred him from his rounding thoughts but could not end them, merely quiet them — those memories, those voices. It hurt to imagine Maegi ever rebuking him for his love the way so many had before. It hurt to think of her hurting. But she was hurting now too, waiting for him and doubting.

She wanted him; together they could fill the forest with their own kindred spirits and they'd be better — that's how it worked, right? Children were meant to be improvements on their parents. 'I'm not,' he thought. But they could be better. Slowly his gaze draws up from the dirt to the luminous girl before him and he thinks, 'I only invite disaster.' And what if his love did nothing but taint those that came in contact with it? What kind of father could he ever be to an innocent little life?

He opens his mouth but can't speak; even if he'd wanted to, he merely rasps a breath laden with sorrow, and manages to say: Not you, Mou — and then he is overcome with too much emotion, and cannot continue.

She shook her head, but slowly, less to refute his statement and more in utter puzzlement. What. . .? she asked, at a loss for anything to say. It seemed the shadows of his past had crept up on him again, but there were other shadows, too. The gods. They were surrounding him, peeking out from behind trees, snaring their wispy fingers 'round his scarred neck—

The daedra said we have to have children, Maegi said firmly, and she heard a collective shout, as if in affirmation. I don't know how to do it; Mou, you have to help me. Unless. . .

Unless you don't want to. The words reared their ugly head inside her mind; she tried to make them go away, but they took life of their own, dancing around her like cackling demons. Of course, that must be it. There must be something wrong with her, a red flag, something that made her unfit to have children in his mind. Even though Meridia said her womb was blessed.

Had she not made herself perfectly clear?

I can't have children with anyone else. The only other wolf I trust is Ramsay, and—

"The Meloniis have been fucking each other for generations."

I can't, Mou, I can't do that either! It has to be you!—

"You with your fucked up paw. Ramsay with no Godsdamn neck! And Euron—"

She exhaled, but it came out as a sob; she was frustrated to hear herself begin to break down into angry, self-conscious tears. She fixed her bi-colored eyes on Mou, willing him to—get over whatever his problem was. They'd been through far worse together. All she could think now was that there was something wrong with her—

"I hate you."

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sex stuff starts here.

The demons of the wood cackled and danced as if they were enacting some sort of ritual; he didn't see them, but maybe she did. Maybe that's why she was insisting so desperately for this — not of her own volition but because of some possession, some sort of inebriation. Whatever it was, Mou remained ignorant of it — he had his own demons to battle. By letting them take hold, even for just a few minutes of doubt and guilt and dangerously consuming emotion, he wasn't just hurting himself, but Maegi too. She began to plead with him; her voice carrying despite the confines of the trees. Her voice cracked. She was crying — and the sound of that pulled him from the deep well of his own sins. He looked at her cautiously, like she was something fragile that couldn't be touched, and with a shaking few steps he drew closer again.

It will be, he promised, but maybe it was the breathiness of his voice or the fact he couldn't look at her for long, it wasn't a confident start. Mou felt his heart crawling up from his depths where it lodged in his throat, full to bursting with his love of her, and though he felt as if he might choke on it he tried to explain — I love you M'gee buh I... I don't wan' to hurt you. Wasn't that exactly what he was doing now? Was it better to hurt her a little bit now to avoid the truth of all this — that he was afraid? Beyond afraid. Each time Mou tried to find connection he failed, and he couldn't take that again. He couldn't see everything melt down around them both, not when things were so good between them. He was being selfish; perhaps the old Screech still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

But he was standing so close to her. The air felt electric, like a storm was on its way - he could taste her tears on his breath, and he longed to touch her again. Drawing his attention up with a tilt of his nose, he brushed at her cheek - I'd do henny'ting for you M'gee, you know that.

Too late, she almost shot back, but didn't. She looked at him, a hollowness in her stare that hadn't been there before except—well, things that were hollow could always be filled again, right? It wasn't as if her love and trust for him had eroded completely, the moment had just snatched it from her. But he had a chance to give it back. They had a chance to make things right.

Then do this for me, Maegi murmured, the words finely slurred. She motioned at the shadows in the trees, now watching them like patrons in a theater. Do it for them. They've decided. She pushed her muzzle into his neck, against the pelt that changed so suddenly into scar tissue there. Please, she whispered, almost vibrating with the intensity of her feeling.

If it was lust with which she came to him, it was a manufactured lust, for she'd never known it before. No, all she felt was love and fear, and those two things tended to make an ugly blend together more often than not.

Then do this for me. She said as she motioned to the trees; he ducked his head and began to stride around her, knowing when to give in; even if he had his own personal hang-ups Mou was easily manipulated. He could not listen to her pleading voice and the hurt his refusal caused; either way she would be hurt, but she was asking for it and for the time being that meant he was not to blame. If things went wrong (as he so desperately feared they would) Mou could not be faulted — he'd given her an out.

Please, she begged of him, and finally Mou's spirit broke for her.

He was soundless as he drifted alongside her, moving in to position — even giving her small moments of cold affection, drawing his investigative nose along her spry body; a nudge at the hip, some soft nibbles as he groomed at her - turning, positioning himself - and then without warning he lifted up and carefully, but quickly, snared her with his forelimbs. His paws tucked against her hips at first. He shuffled awkwardly, aligning their bodies — but then he stopped.

Y-you hafta — um, he couldn't quite make his voice loud enough, feeling so many things at once but primarily a growing and insurmountable anxiety, M-move your tail, please. It wasn't suave, or cute, or charming, but all kinds of awkward as he tried to fit their two bodies together; this was what she wanted, he thought. Just let it happen — she wants this, just do it, she loves you — but what about after?

She should have felt bad about coercing him into this, and maybe she would, eventually. But right now, all she could hear was Meridia's sweet voice, pushing her on. The shrieks of the gods, demanding it. In her mind, she was just as coerced as he must feel. Sure, she wanted children—but she might not have thought of it, had Peryite not brought Meridia to her.

Maegi stiffened as he mounted her, then took a deep breath, willing herself to relax. It was a strange sensation, this position they were locked in; there was nothing else like it. She felt him move against her and then that warmth in her belly came, less like fire and more like molten lava, slow but insistent.

M-move your tail, please. She was confused by the request, and began to wag it, as if she was overjoyed. No, that clearly wasn't it; that just exacerbated the awkwardness between them. Um, she muttered, face drawn in a perplexed frown. She shifted it just past the press of Mou's hips and felt—something—push against her, and a shiver coursed through her.

Like. . .like that? Maegi whispered, eyes wide with apprehension. It seemed right, anyway.

Her reaction was to wag her tail, and the momentum of the small shake almost toppled him back. The boy gripped her sides more desperately, roughly, to compensate for his staggering steps. In the end she did move her tail out of the way enough for him to press his hips forward; however there came another obstacle. All the anxiety had led to some... performance-related... drawbacks. Mou thought he could account for this too and continued to rub against her, hoping it would be enough to spur him on, reach the conclusion she was so desperate for.

The more he tried, the less confident he felt. She could beg and cry to him all she wished but the moment had fled him - and without further aid he was worried she would grow hostile, or hateful, for his blundering. The warmth of their bodies in close proximity did ease some of his body's worry; he continued, dry humping his soft bits against her, reaching along the arch of her back with his teeth to nibble and preen affectionately. It felt like an act. He loved her so much, but couldn't make love to her — but Maegi did not want his love in this moment, only his body, his seed. He struggled for a bit to concentrate on his lust for her, and only after some effort did he feel his body begin to respond.

And swiftly, inside he plunged.

Maybe this was it. Just a slow dance, a sort of awkward cuddle, and she'd come away from it with her belly all swollen like Relmyna had been. She could deal with that. She withstood it, and even began to enjoy it after a while; his affections only made her stomach tighter. She wanted more, but she wasn't sure what that would even be. What was more?

She quickly found out when he entered her that more was perhaps not what she wanted, after all.

Maegi drew in a sharp breath through her teeth, gritted tight together. Gods, it hurt! She felt uncomfortably full, and stretched, like someone was slowly tearing her apart (and she wasn't wrong). But she knew that if she made noise that suggested she was in pain, or didn't like it, that he might stop. And he couldn't stop. Not until it was done.

So she bore it, her face drawn, almost skeletal in appearance, her eyes wide and hollow. Tears once more came, though not of sadness, and they didn't spill. She breathed in time with his strokes—whatever tempo they were—and said wordless prayers to try to hasten the process.

She loved Mou, but she hated this.

He gradually picked up a tempo as the friction further aroused him. Mou did not want to cause her distress, and paused at her initial sounds. Aside from the soft grunts and husky breathing between them there was an uncomfortable disquiet; slowly, steadily, the tension of his body built up until he couldn't help but fall in to a greater pace, overtaken by the moment. Whether Maegi was enjoying the process or not seemed to fade from consideration — until he felt himself reach the pinnacle of feeling which she demanded of him, followed by a lasting bliss which swept through Mou like a rolling tide.

She let out a low whine as he increased his pace; the pain increased with it. Hopefully he had lost himself to the moment enough to mistake her noise for that of pleasure. They were past the point of no return anyway, and soon he had collapsed atop her, and she felt. . .something—bloom?—inside?

Could it be the babies? Had it worked?

So relieved she was at the possibility of success that she let herself relax. This wasn't a great idea, as her knees buckled, and she nearly fell over and took Mou with her. Luckily, she kept her footing, taking deep, steady breaths, trying not to focus on the sensation of fullness (though it was ebbing) within her. She instead concentrated on her belly, her womb, trying to sense them growing.

Them. Theirs. Their babies.

I love you, Mou, Maegi whispered, her voice tremulous. Our children will be perfect. And though she had not enjoyed one bit of the process of creating them, she believed this wholeheartedly.

He groaned against her, burrowing his chin against the ghost-white of her back. They would be tied together for some time still — but she buckled beneath him, and the tugging of her body made him gasp with a new and painful sensation. He couldn't cry out in protest to that sharp feeling but his maw opened and snapped like a crocodile's jaws. He pulled her close with his forelimbs and adjusted as quickly as he could to compensate for her unsteady limbs, and once he was able to extricate himself he did so.

Our children will be perfect. She promised. He panted behind her, beside her - finally aware of the humming quality in his skin and the weakness of his own jellied limbs, but said nothing. He merely smiled, or tried to, but there wasn't much emotion to the expression as it slipped across his face. The boy felt used — and the first thought that slipped darkly, discreetly, through his mind was a sad hope that they hadn't succeeded in anything. The guilt of that tiny thought made manifest caused Mou to look away from her, to the swirling shadows, and he let himself lay in the grass as the sensations ebbed away from him. He would fall in to a daze as he recovered.

Maybe something was wrong, though. He smiled, but it didn't feel like a smile. He turned away from her and laid in the grass, and she in turn glanced into the trees, her joy fading. They stood quietly for a moment, not speaking, not looking at each other. A wall suddenly between them—or maybe it'd been there throughout the encounter, and she had refused to see it.

After a moment, Maegi padded over to him and touched her nose to the crown of his head. Held it there for an instant, and then moved away.

The Melonii slipped into the shadows, feeling sore, depraved, and alone. Guilty, too, for reasons she couldn't quite comprehend. But she was with child, now, and she thought that might make it all worth it, in the end. Hopefully Mou could see that, eventually.