Lion Head Mesa we don't talk about Cicero, no, no, no

She'd raided the caches in Blackfeather Woods, the well-hidden ones in the depths of which only she knew. Maegi had stashed things there during her many stints within the forest, and today, she returned with a folded wet leaf clutched gently within her front teeth.

Within its folds were poppy seeds, clinging stubbornly to the wet surface.

She could have asked Tavina for them. She'd had another seizure since her first, and no one had been around for it that time. Quicker, and less brutal; she hadn't bitten her tongue again.

But they were her only two seizures in her entire life, and had come in relatively quick succession. It was Sheogorath; she was going mad.

And if she were truly slipping into that madness, she would not do it sober.

Maegi lay underneath a nondescript overhang in the cliffs and unfolded the leaf, lapping up three seeds in quick succession.

"It's been too long, hasn't it, dear?"

He laughed, and it sounded like her father.

The hebsut was on his way to the wellspring, eager to clean the morning's work from his coat; he was rather meticulous about the state of his fur. The weather was starting to warm again, and he was looking forward to the temperature of the water being more comfortable. 

He made his way through one of the many passageways, Sakai on his mind as he always was. He didn't know when he had seen him last, but he had resigned to the knowledge that things would likely remain that way. It made his heart ache, but he had no choice in the matter. 

Sayf came upon Maegi, laying in the shade created by the way the canyon jutted out over the walkway. My lady, he said softly, dipping his head in a respectful greeting. How are you today? He was unaware of her seizures, though he had heard talk of some illness she suffered. He settled down next to her, his gaze soft with his fondness for the woman. Would you like some company?

Her eyes set upon the grayscale form of Sayf, and she rolled, lounging on her side, gaze looking him up and down with interest. Please, she said, the poppies already starting to grasp hold of her. I would love company.

She waited for him to settle beside her, then slowly proffered the leaf, the small, dark seeds stark against its light skin.

Poppies, Maegi explained, bi-colored eyes burning into his countenance. Have you had them before?

Her own speech was a little slurred, now, limbs growing heavy in opiate bliss. But she waited for his response; he was free to flee, if needed; she would not judge him. She tilted her head, slowly, wondering.

Sayf had absolutely no intention of fleeing. He settled down next to her and, if allowed, he would start to gently groom the fur of her neck. He could feel Maegi's eyes on his face. He looked up from his work, pausing to offer her a warm smile. I have had them before, he told her before turning his attention to her neck once again. He was well versed in mind-altering substances. Are you in pain? Not that it mattered; he was just curious about her condition. It was information he could use to serve her better. 

If she offered, the hebsut would take some too and join her in her drug-induced bliss. Otherwise, he would continue to care for her coat or anything else she asked of him.

She leaned into the caring touch, then craned her neck, staring at him at an angle. Only my heart, she said, and a laugh escaped her. It was a cruel, mirthless sound, gurgling over her tongue like dark, debris-riddled floodwaters. She put her chin upon his shoulders.

Only take a few, Maegi instructed, breathing in his scent. Too many and. . .well, you'll learn the hard way. If you don't die before you do.

It was strange, how uninhibited she felt around the fellahin. Perhaps it was just the nature of his work—to serve, to please. She didn't feel too sorry about leaning on him for that purpose. It was, after all, his purpose.

She curled her toes inward, slowly, then let them relax again. Do you believe in Pharaoh's gods, Sayf?

Only her heart. It was said with a laugh, but he could still hear the truth in the words. He wondered who had caused her heart pain. He wouldn't ask, though; he would only listen if she decided to tell him of her troubles. He was here to help her forget. 

He ate as much as she instructed and then scooted closer as she rested her head on him. He pushed his nose into the the fur of her neck and nuzzled her, hoping to comfort and add more pleasure to what she was already feeling from the seeds. 

I do, he answered when she asked about his belief in the pharaoh's gods. His master was a god himself, so how could he not believe in them? I see and feel proof of their existence anytime I am in the pharaoh's presence, Sayf explained, continuing his affection for as long as she allowed. 

What do you believe in? Did she believe in anything at all?

Her brows came together in query. And when you're not around the Pharaoh? she asked. She'd found that the daedra were loudest within the heart of Blackfeather Woods, and their voices faded as one strayed further away. Was Pharaoh the keeper of his own gods' presence? It was an intriguing thought.

I. . . Maegi trailed off, shaking her head and beginning to preen at the thick fur between his shoulder blades. I. . .believe. In too many things. Too many gods.

She pulled a lingering bit of debris from his pelt, the barest shred of dead leaf buried deep. It's hard to explain, she whispered. But I am haunted. And I cannot escape their voices.

I still feel them, he answered against her fur. Just not as strongly. It was impossible to be within the mesa and not feel the gods. But the pharaoh's presence only intensified the feeling, like he was their conduit. But Sayf knew he was more than that.

The hebsut closed his eyes as the lovely Maegi started to groom his fur. He tried to keep himself clean, but some areas were hard to reach. She told him she believed in too many gods, and he wondered further who they were. But when she continued, he could hear the pain in her whispered words. Her gods haunted her. Maegi could not escape them. Never? he asked, nuzzling into her fur so he could deliver soft kisses to her skin. Do the seeds help? He hoped they allowed her some kind of relief. If not, then he would try to give her that.

Mmm, she remarked to his answer, still wondering. Pharaoh must have quite a pull. He asked a couple questions, peppered with kisses, and she smiled, closing her eyes and placing her nose upon the first couple vertebrae along his spine.

They always do, Maegi assured him. And you? How do you feel?

It was all too easy to imagine Mou here next to her, rather than the fellahin. That was the beauty of the seeds; they loosened the bounds between reality and fantasy, blurring the lines between the corporeal and spiritual. 

Mou had never spoken much. In these moments, the spaces between sentences, she clung to her husband.

Only when Sayf spoke again would the spell be broken.

She found comfort in the seeds; he could tell that by now without her answer, though he was glad to hear the confirmation.

His own seeds had started to take effect now, and he felt his need for the woman intensify. His heart felt light and his body felt loose. 

Sayf smiled at her question but didn't think it required him to speak the answer. He was beyond words now anyway. His kisses tuned into devilish nips, her touch along his spine sending heat spreading across his skin. 

Maybe she would let him make this experience even more of an escape from the things that caused her pain.

The spell was not yet broken.

Maegi had only lain with one wolf, in all her life. It would remain so, if Sayf took this further without words. She gave into his embrace, dreaming of her husband's halting speech, the windblown scent and feel of him.

Perhaps this was the fellahin's greatest triumph—to create fantasy from nothing.

No, it was the poppies.

The earth spun slowly around them. 

She splayed out upon the earth, hoping that the touch enveloped her, pressed her down into the soil.

The lovely Maegi allowed his fervent touches. He didn't waste time wondering how much of this connection between them was drug-induced; it didn't really matter. He had an opportunity to soothe her further and he took it.

He allowed her to lay herself out before him before he was there, covering her with his warmth and attentive affection. 

He wasn't aware that she pictured another in his place, but he wouldn't have minded if he was; he only cared if she felt better afterwards. 

So Sayf worshiped her the way he like to worship the pharaoh; he seemed to sense that was exactly what she needed now. 

fade here? we can time jump if you'd like or just fade, either is fine with me <3