Arrow Lake But the proof's in the way it hurts

@Morokei
back dated to the 12/24

She hadn't been able to return to the hollow yet. She just couldn't bring herself to face the General or the rest of Diaspora right now. She knew she couldn't stay away for very long, but for now, she busied herself with looking for her missing children. She thought visiting the lake might offer her some leads but realized almost immediately that it had been a very bad decision. All she kept thinking about was Mahler and Stigmata and the sister she had lost. She was reminded of a time when things were different, and it only intensified her despair over Mahler. She was not going to do this to herself, though. So she decided to do a quick sweep and then head somewhere else to look. 

She ran through the territory, inspecting the scents and finding nothing new. She was careful to avoid the graves of both Tahani and Stigmata, deciding that she just wasn't in a good place to be in either of those places. She was, as always, frustrated that she hadn't found any signs of her children here, and when she had done as efficient of a job searching here as she could manage right now, she quickly headed for the borders, eager to get lost somewhere in the mountains and not have to think about any of this.

To Morokei’s bleary eyes, the figure in the distance seemed to meld with the snow itself; a rippling silvery silhouette blinking across the stark landscape like the flickering of an old film. A ghost. The stilted Melonii started forward, a spark of life found in the promise of a break from monotony. He would have given anything for a chat with a ghost, a glimpse of a god, the promise of something beyond what he’d come to accept as a rather repetitive existence. Kill, eat, piss, sleep, try to avoid an existential crisis between; he wondered some days if he was stuck in time somehow, a punishment handed down from the Daedra for his sins. If the Daedra even cared to punish him anymore. He grinned at that, and the skin around his muzzle crackled faintly as the dried snot stretched and broke. It stung under the frigid breeze, but he hardly noticed. The phantom in the snow had become something more corporeal as he neared; a winter spirit, perhaps, as trapped in her prison of flesh and fur as he was in his own. Assaulted suddenly by the scent of the living, his attention quickly shifted back to the present. Ghost she was not, yet the Melonii was struck nonetheless by a desire as fierce as any ache for some link to his Gods. Thinking quickly, he called to her in a voice rough with disuse. ”Excuse me, miss. Can you spare a moment?”

The scent of death filled her nose as she continued to make her way towards the borders of her old home. At first, she ignored it, assuming it came from someone who had met an unfortunate end somewhere nearby. But then she was suddenly struck with a thought that made her heart slam against her ribs: what if it was one of her children? So she quickly changed her path and headed toward the scent. But the closer she got, the stranger the scent became. Whatever it was, it still smelled of decay, but she also scented sickness and underneath all of it, something that told her this being was not dead at all. She knew now it was not Ego or Monarch at least, but her curiosity urged her forward anyway. As the scraggly-looking shadow came into sight, she slowed. He spoke as she drew closer, and she studied him with her usual shrewd gaze, inwardly surprised by how tall he was now that she was closer. She stared at him a few seconds longer before finally answering. That depends on what you need, she said curtly. She had no time for needy strangers and unless he had something interesting or useful to say, she would dismiss him and go on her way.