Blackfeather Woods blind to this impending fate

The woman had kept to herself since she had fulfilled her biological urges; the rest of her season passed over the course of a few days, and a fortnight after the shadow had his way with her, she felt a bit more confident to be seen by the wolves of the wood. Parvati was not typically a private person. She had always been fond of the women back home, coveting their attention and always eager to share gossip with them; here it was different, mainly because her arrival had been such a spontaneous event but also, tragically, because she had kept herself so well hidden that she had yet to introduce herself to anyone.

A part of her was still quite overwhelmed that she had given away such a sacred piece of herself to the stunted man — but Parvati could not take that back now. She did her best to work through her bias privately, and when she emerged from her hiding — finding herself so near the holy altar of Blackfeather, although it held no such relevance to her — she found it easier and easier to focus on the curious world around her rather than the many conflicting sensations she felt inside of herself.

The altar was impressive solely because it was not something she had seen before. She crept towards it without thinking about its intrinsic value, and when she spied the scattered bones upon it, she stopped.

A gasp caught in her throat and she hushed immediately, her ears pivoting back as she realized the species — wolf, but who? And why? What kind of creature would display their dead so openly, and not at least attempt funerary rites? Parvati could not help the sadness that filled her features thereafter; the fear faded after its initial jolt through her system, and all she could do was look upon the remains with a quiet sense of pity.

Today's offering to Peryite was one of the crows Mou had killed, rotting slowly as each day went by. It was a challenge getting the body to the Altar—bits of it fell away on the journey—but she finally managed to lug the maggoty lump of flesh to Nightcaller Temple. . .only to discover that she wasn't alone.

She dropped the corvid (ignoring the strange sense of hunger that overcame her at the sour smell) and ambled toward the woman with a bark of inquiry. An unfamiliar face, though the smell was not too foreign. She'd been here for a while—and Ramsay's smell layered her pelt, along with a pungency that struck Maegi as both familiar and offensive.

Still, she put on an impassive face, brows drawn tight in puzzlement. You're new, she remarked rhetorically, lifting her chin. Who are you? Did Ramsay invite you to stay?

She didn't want to get too close to the remains on the altar in case the spirit remained clinging to the bones, and she did not want to draw the evil eye upon herself. But she was curious, and so the wolf drew closer anyway, only to dip away from the altar at the sight of some dried flowers which must have fallen from their place, which she returned to the altar with care, even perhaps a sense of reverence. As Parvati drew back from the altar afterwards, she was struck by a sense of dread — no, it was a smell, something strong and rotten — and she looked over her shoulder to see an approaching figure.

You're new, the wolf said to her — a spoken observation while Parvati's gaze lingered upon them in opposition, although she tried to divert her gaze as the stranger's chin lifted. She found that she couldn't; she was drawn to the twisting scar that blemished the woman's face for a moment too long — but the stranger either did not notice or, perhaps she was used to the curious way people looked at her. She mentioned Ramsay next and Parvati finally managed to look away. She felt herself flush with heat; knowing what they'd done together, what she still craved from him since that event, the secret they kept...

Yes, I am Parvati. The woman licked her lips as she considered what to say, gathering her confidence and composure, but she couldn't think of anything else to say — until she remembered the altar. As casually as she could, Parvati looked to the stone slab with its bones, now with the addition of the rotted bird carcass. Is that an offering? A curious one, if that.

Parvati, she mouthed to herself, assuming that the 'yes' was confirmation of Ramsay's invitation. Well, that was good enough for her. She trusted her brother's judgment. Still, to see a newcomer so close to the Altar. . . It was an opportunity for a lesson, but it made Maegi uneasy, regardless.

Yes, for Peryite, she answered matter-of-factly. My chief god, lord of pestilence. Peryite loves the rancid and the rotting. I can't say I'm that fond, but. . . She trailed off, letting her lips curl wryly, a rare show of humor. Her pregnancy, contrary to what was common, had put her in an almost buoyant mood these days.

She cocked her head. What do you know about this place? About the daedra and our religion? She wondered if Ramsay had told her anything—but she doubted that. Ramsay didn't know much about it, to her knowledge, and he cared even less than that.

The stranger did not offer a name — or, she did, but it was more like an introduction to a pantheon rather than a personal introduction of herself; she did not feel comfortable enough to interrupt, so Parvati stood calmly and listened. She looked at the altar and the remnants, the reliquaries, that had been collected there. Lord of pestilence she had said. What sort of person prayed to, obeyed, and worshipped a concept like that? It was an unsettling thought. So very different from what Parvati had been raised to believe via her own people.

What do you know about this place? The pale woman asked, and as Parvati ventured a glance her way, she thought she saw a smile on the healthy side of her face. About the daedra and our religion? The daedra —?

A moment passed where she processed these words. Her gaze dropped, and Parvati looked at the stone escarpment beneath her feet for a moment, ears atop her head fidgeting a little. I'm sorry, no, she answered softly, and then her eyes trailed back to the altar. My people have many gods - many practices, some reserved for specific sects or limited to small families of people. I come from... as she trailed along, Parvati realized she might've been over-sharing and paused; spares a glance to the pale woman's features to try and gauge if her commentary is welcome, and abridges the words as she concludes, My people worship wadj-wer. The men, mostly.

It felt wrong to share this in this holy space — it was reserved for gods that she had never heard of, but Parvati was open to all; her own people had so many deities that she often had a hard time telling them apart from the historical record when she was told stories as a child. It was not a terrible problem to have, although some were quite literal in their interpretation.

It wasn't surprising that Parvati didn't know of the daedra. Most newcomers to the woods didn't. That meant, however, that it was an opportunity to teach her—but instead, Maegi fell into the role of student as the other woman tossed unfamiliar names and concepts her way. She tested the word (words?) silently on her tongue, brows drawing slightly together in concentration.

The world was too complicated to be ruled by simply one god, and even the daedra were not alone. Whatever or whoever these wadj-wer were, they were important, at least to Parvati and her family. They may not be worshiped here, but they deserved respect.

The sects. . .that sounds like my religion, Maegi responded. She nodded to the Altar. My grandmother came here and founded this place; she worshiped Mephala, the Night Mother, and Sithis, the Dread Father. Those are just two of the daedra. Others, like me, strayed away from them, and have chosen different gods.

Was Mephala angry with her, for the betrayal? Is that why the voices here were quieter than before?

There was time enough to tell Parvati of her customs. For now, she was intrigued. Tell me more about the wadj-wer, she insisted gently, resting back on her haunches, the crow forgotten.

So, this place was a holy one. The forest - the altar. The more that Parvati listened the less afraid she felt, although she was still somewhat nervous of the concept that these wolves might worship a being of disease and sickness; it was their way, and she was not about to question it. It struck her as the ghost was speaking that Ramsay - who had bedded her in the darkness - had not told her anything about this faith. She opened her mouth to ask a question but was unable to ask it, for the woman had asked her own.

Parvati closed her mouth and licked her lips, thoughtful, considerate of what she had overheard of the men back home; it was rare for a woman to partake in the rituals, which was perhaps the reason why she had been so curious of the pale woman's offering. She cleared her throat lightly, swallowed the lump that wedged there, and tried to explain some aspect of her people's faith:

Wadj-wer is what the men called him. The representation of fecundity. We lived in a place where water was not abundant but when it came, the land was green and virile — so the men claimed this power as theirs, and my tribe has always followed such doctrine. She did not sound proud of this fact, but neither was she dismayed by it; it was simply the way of things.

The men would call for rain and it would come, bringing new life with it. They would hunt and fish and we would feast, and then celebrate — but she paused here, realizing she was speaking of something she had run from. They would prove themselves to women, take many wives, and show their love of the god by bedding them. She realized that she was embarrassed for her story-telling, and felt her face grow flush with emotion. But she looked to the woman to gauge a reaction, curious all the same.

It was all new to her, even the word 'fecundity,' although she got a sense from context what it could possibly mean. Interesting that only the men were allowed to worship. She thought of her problems with the Brotherhood, the very naming of the institution she was once to join. It excluded her, indirectly. One of the many reasons why she had left.

Parvati's tales were strange and fascinating, and Maegi listened with a keen ear. None of it sounded like anything she was interested in from a practical standpoint—but she had a head for lore, and she soaked it up.

Do you remember any of the prayers? she asked. I know you weren't allowed, but maybe you heard them, picked them up. . . It felt sacrilegious to even bring it up here, but Maegi was nothing if not unorthodox. She had abandoned Mephala, after all.

The woman was briefly stricken by the curiosity of the girl, finding it both unsettling and - oddly - so similar to her own need to understand the world and its intricacies, it felt like she had found a kindred spirit in a highly unlikely place. But the request had her blushing too; the men knew all, they were the priests and they were welcome to the secrets of wadj-wer, not she. The pale girl was right to assume she had picked up something, though.

I.. I could recite part of one, she offered coyly, but I do not think I could translate from the words of my people. The fact she knew the ancient tongue was something she had kept well hidden from the men and women back home. It was not unheard of for her sex to be knowledgable, but Parvati had brokered her understanding outside the graces of the faith — if it were to somehow reach back to the summerlands, she would incur more than just the mortal wrath of the men.

She knew how unlikely such retribution would be. The woman was so far afield now - so separate, lodging in this unique woodland. So she took a moment to compose herself, and recited:

Sayidi aleaziz al'akhdar,
'Arhab bikum wa'atawsal 'iilaykum,
wa'atlib minkum hdha bi'adhrae maftawhatin.

It was an introductory prayer, something the men would chant together as they made their preparations before a hunt. It often grew so loud and raucous that Parvati could not tell the voices apart, nor the sounds nor the meaning; but she could at least recall the initial query, and hoped it would suffice. The prayer did not ilicit much of a response out of Parvati as she concluded it, although her gaze rested on the altar with its many offerings - many of which were perversions to the lord of life that her menfolk adored.

Oddly enough, the language reminded her a little of Daedric, and because of that, it was inherently soothing. She felt herself go into somewhat of a trance as Parvati spoke, blinking profusely when silence fell between them once more and the spell was broken. Were the daedra angry? Was this heresy?

Very interesting, Maegi said sincerely, giving Parvati an appreciative nod. What was that particular prayer used for? In my family's religion, we recite different things for different occasions. . .rituals, peace, war— She remembered, vividly, praying to Sithis on the eve of the Redhawk invasion.

She hoped she would never have to utter those words again.

The woman smiled as further questions bombarded her. She had mixed feelings about talking about this - it had always felt inaccessible to her as a woman, but now she felt a feeling of alienation more strongly than before. She wished she could speak of some great and unending faith, or hold conviction for what the men had believed; it wasn't her's though, merely an aspect of her life that she had taken for granted. Something she didn't have the adequate words to speak about, nor the familiarity. Still, Parvati would try to explain what vagaries she carried within.

I think it was a hunting prayer? It would start days before a hunt, with many more verses and more fervor. It was always quite an invigorating chant to overhear. The boys would try to follow along but they never had all the verses. The older men, the proven warriors and hunters, would fill the air with their combined voices and they would commune with their god together. It had always been an interesting bit of entertainment to her - nothing more.

I believe they were asking for fate to be on their side. Or -- or for a blessing from the wadj-wer, um, The Green, I suppose you could call it. Water was not in abundance back home and when the rainy season came we would celebrate -- she felt as if she were rambling on things that she had no place to speak of, and floundered a bit, then fell quiet.

The Green, Maegi repeated in a murmur, when Parvati had cut herself off. Her eyes flashed shrewdly toward the woman; she seemed much too intelligent for this backwards society where men ruled supreme. The Melonii was glad Parvati had been able to escape it. Thank you, she said, giving the other wolf a nod.

She would never offer a prayer to this wadj-wer, not when it was clear that the wolves who favored them were so cruel to women. But she respected that Parvati had been so willing to share with Maegi her customs—and she would do her best to return the favor.

The Dark Brotherhood was the name of the secret society my family was part of, she continued. Most of them, anyway. She gave a twisted moue of distaste. You only have to hear the name to know why I was never happy within their ranks. Dark Sister, they may have called me, but I never felt comfortable, as a woman. My ways are different.

Maegi shrugged. Man, woman; it doesn't matter, she mused. We're all going to die, eventually. No one escapes it. And I hope Peryite will spare me when my time comes, as I have been so faithful. I may rot, but I will rot in glory.

The dark brotherhood had a nefarious ring to it that was unsettling, although the fact that Maegi was aware and voiced her own opposition to it made Parvati feel less on-edge about the concept. She listened attentively as the woman explained the history behind the woods and its people.

Dark sister, they may have called me, but I never felt comfortable, Maegi explained. It was a feeling that Parvati knew well, and the reason she had felt compelled to disperse from her clan despite it being against the laws of her people. She risked more than she knew. Man, woman; it doesn't matter, and this was something she agreed with, earning a smile and a nod.

Even while Maegi spoke of her god - of this Peryite - and painted the image of her dead body in a macabre setting, worm-eaten and rotten, did not make Parvati as unsettled as one might anticipate. A part of her could understand the sentiment behind her words and found the concept to be beautiful, even if it was a bit grotesque. We are of the same mind, she murmured in response, not wanting to disrupt the moment but also somewhat glad to steer the conversation away from such a dire topic.

I was taught that I would one day become dust, and from that dust more would rise. Perhaps if we were good and just within our lifetimes, the dust would transcend in to the sky and become a smattering of stars - she looked heavenwards as she said this, but caught herself before becoming too distracted; the stars were well hidden and she sounded more pious than intended as she waxed on about it, - though, I suppose my gods have given me up by now, as I am no longer with my people. It was a sobering thought.

Dust to dust. And the hope of becoming stars. It was completely foreign to Maegi, but she liked the sound of it, and would keep it in mind. But as for Parvati's gods abandoning her—

The daedra will take you in, if you choose to reach out to them, Maegi said softly, eyes drifting toward the altar. Peryite is lord of pestilence; my brother's namesake, Malacath, watches over the damned. They are not choosy—they accept all.

She took in a low, steadying breath, going into a slight trance. Peryite, ñuha āeksio, ñuha Jaes, she whispered. Jurnegon tolī īlva mandia Parvati.  Dohaeragon zirȳla isse bisa arlie ābrar.  Nyke epagon mērī bisa hen ao, syt sir. Her eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and then opened again, looking at Parvati.

I have asked Peryite to guide you, Maegi explained, a half-smile curving her scarred muzzle. Peryite will call for you in dreams, soon. . .I am sure of it. She rarely asked favors from Peryite, and she did not think this was so demanding, compared to what she could request.

Wrapping this here.

She listened attentively, and was pleased to hear the odd words of Maegi's gods as she spoke her prayer; they were unlike her own and that appealed greatly to the woman. Parvati would've been a keen explorer and a studious creature had she been born anywhere else in the universe - alas, she had been born a peasant woman beneath the men of her tribe, and such things were not her's to aspire towards. But she was free of that now and basking in the curiosities of the world elsewhere; this discovery - of the forest, of Ramsay, of Maegi and her gods - was one of the highlights of her life.

When Maegi spoke plainly next, Parvati smiled. It didn't feel as if anything had changed with the prayer, but she was thankful all the same for the effort. I will be mindful in my sleep, she promises easily. Whether the dreams happen or not, whether she remembers them or not, Parvati is just pleased that Maegi made the effort - she feels more connected to these people now. Even if it is a vague feeling. Thank you, she commends. I will do the same for you - if I can find the right offerings, and if my god has not turned a blind eye.

She would need to figure out what grew in these woods first; it was most likely impossible for Parvati to find the requisite herbs or use them to their full extent, as she wasn't trained strongly in her native faith, but she would make a show of it for Maegi's behalf. With a dip of her head she bid her new friend farewell and slipped away, to work.