Blackwater Islands gave myself in that misty light

idk if this is allowed smack me if not

"Live, little girl, live."

She grasped tenuously at the line between life and death, with the madman pushing her one way and her aching body another. 

It was a strange place, at once loud and quiet. A cacophony of gulls and waves, but devoid of all other music to her ears.

In her mind, he did not cease—

you are alive you are alive you are alive hahaha you live you live i've made you live and you will do as i say and say as i do and do as i say and say you are alive and you live and he's gone and they're 

gone and you live and you're alive and you hunger and thirst and hurt and 

cry but alive you are alive you are alive you are alive you are alive you are alive you are alive

Head on her paws. Eyes closed. Dead to herself but alive to the world.

going to be vague on if this happens before or after the other thread!

Bridget didn't mean to stay out this long, but as she set more goalposts, after a while she would occasionally forget that the trip back was a thing. She sat down with a heavy thump, taking care to avoid knocking the healing wound, and took a moment to catch her breath. Whooo. Alright, then.

This whole talking to herself was going to become a habit, wasn't it? She smiled, but the expression abruptly disappeared when she noticed something nearby. Was that.... yes. That was a wolf.

Oh, hey!! Hey, are you alright?! Whoever it was, they didn't look it. She'd thought they were dead at first, but she felt icy relief seeing their sides move with breath. The last thing she needed to find today was a corpse. (The last thing she ever needed to find, I mean, seriously).

She managed to hop over, in her ungainly way, and stopped short only a length or two away. From there she stared at her with concern, wanting to come closer but unwilling to infringe on her space immediately if she wasn't welcome.

She rolled over, hearing the voice. What? she asked dully, opened her eyes and did a double take, staring at the tripod wolf with incredulous eyes.

My God, what happened to you? Maegi exclaimed, her voice soft but harsh, her gaze burning into where the limb once was. This was some sort of hell; she was in no doubt, now. What did they do to you?

Her head swam, throbbed, and she set it down with a moan, burying her nose into her paws but still trying to catch glimpses of the woman. Golden, so bright against the grays of this place.

She moaned, body stiffening.

This was going to be something she'd need to get used to, apparently. Saved my life. Bridget answered without any unfriendliness, but she was caught for a moment when she saw the other woman's face. What did they do to you?

It only took an instant for the medic to recognize that the wounds were long-healed. They were still a sight to see, however, and had to have been a bitch to heal through. Whoever this wolf was, she was tougher than she looked right now.

Hey, wait, don't move. Alright? If you need something, I can get it. She didn't like the way she was holding her head, moving like that. Head injuries were no joke and hard to detect. She could maybe check, but she'd need this wolf to meet her eyes for that. Bridget would maybe try that after she'd gotten her to relax a bit first.

I'm fine, she shot back, shaking her head. Just. . .tired. But still in possession of all her limbs—well, somewhat. Her twisted foreleg was still there, but that would remain, forever. She stared at the place where a leg should have been, a little lost for words.

Shook her head again. Saved your life, she echoed. What the hell is this place?

It was some tortuous mix of Blackfeather Woods and Undersea, dark and suffused with salt. Like something out of her nightmares, of all her worst moments blended together. 

She was not ill in body but in mind; there was nothing the healer could do for her.

Hmm. Bridget was skeptical of her answer, but this wasn't her patient to push. If she thought that all she needed was rest then that was up to the Listener or Speaker to confirm. At least, that's what she assumed. Bridget hadn't really been up and moving long enough to gather many answers for herself yet.

I don't know. They call themselves Druids, and they are definitely healers. But I think there's more to it. She nibbled the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, looking behind her, then settling cautiously back on her haunches. If this woman was going to ask questions then she was going to rest her legs for a moment.

I haven't spent much time on the coast. You don't remember how you got here?

She wasn't sure about that. Keeping wolves alive that had begged for death didn't seem like "healing" to her. But she nodded, slowly, anyway, and then when the other woman asked the question, she lifted her head and gave her a long, level stare.

No, I do, Maegi replied. I thought my husband was dead so I threw myself off the cliff, too.

It was easy enough, though she supposed it could sound macabre to an outside observer. But what had she had left to live for without Mou? Her children were either dead, missing, or averse to her company. Her old friends were long gone. A watery grave had been far preferable.

She sighed again, trying to block out Sheogorath's now incessant chattering in her head. She was getting better at it, though the more she focused away from him, the louder he cackled.

How did you end up here?

remaining vague re: what she knows about Mou!

It was a dark revelation, and delivered with such a level stare, Bridget felt a small chill. She wasn't the type to flinch from things like that, however. This woman was clearly in pain from a number of sources.

You think you have nothing to live for, then. It wasn't a question, just a quiet phrase. But her lilac eyes held no judgement. She'd never felt that lost but she knew it wasn't something you could convince another out of. They needed to see their worth for themselves. She could only attempt to help - if the woman allowed her in.

The Speaker found me. I don't remember everything, but I had a wound that I wasn't able to treat myself. It was infected. She finally glanced down at the place where her leg had once been. It still looked horrific, even covered in the things Morgana continued to treat it with. She looked quickly back. If they hadn't taken it, it would have killed me.

She knew as well as Morgana how the poison could spread. She was lucky she'd found a group both willing and skilled enough to do what was necessary. Even if it meant she was stuck here.

I know I don't, Maegi answered without a beat, giving a shrug. My children are all dead or gone. The home I created with my mate burned to ashes. With him gone, what else was left? Nothing. 

"Wrong, little girl."

The bland-faced matter-of-factness dissipated suddenly with a laugh that reverberated off their surroundings, ripping so savagely from her maw that it left her surprised. She clenched her teeth shut, willing herself to be silent and listen to the woman, instead.

She breathed out hard at the sight of the healing wound, swallowing. That must have been very painful, she said, and choked back more hysterical giggles. Were you awake when you lost your leg, or. . .?

Something was very off. If the neutral way she spoke wasn't clue enough, the laughter was a huge red flag. Or, in Bridget's case, a green one... because if she could help, she would.

She knew it might not be possible. Some wolves experienced too much and it broke them. Some had little interest in putting the pieces back together.

You are left. And this is left. Bridget gestured around them. Then she shrugged. We only get one chance at it, or so it seems. If it can't get worse, it has to get better. She didn't expect that it would have much effect, but she could hardly say nothing.

I don't remember much. I wasn't awake for any of it, after she brought me here. She remembered pieces of the trip, and her arrival, but after that there was nothing until she woke after. The pain had still been terrible, but she was glad she had missed the worst of it.

What's your name? Out of the blue, maybe, but Bridget was genuinely curious.

She was sucking back giggles, alarmed at her lack of composure as Bridget spoke. She focused hard on the missing leg, and then looked at the woman's golden eyes.

Maegi, she said briefly, then launched into nonsensical behavior. She rolled onto her side and stared at the woman, barely blinking. 

And you? she asked.

Bridget. Bridget felt nothing but sympathy despite the unnerving laughter. It set her on edge, but she stayed sitting where she was.

Something's funny?

No. She swallowed, and shook her head, ashamed. I'm sorry, Bridget, Maegi murmured, unable to meet the other's gaze. I—

How did one explain the twisted complexities of the daedra? Or any of the strange, dark customs of the Melonii?

A while ago, I abandoned the customs of my family. Their rituals, their gods. . . But lately, one of those gods has taken me over, she said softly, staring at the ground. Sheogorath. . .the god of madness, or something. I can't get him out of my head. I can't shut him up.

Even now, Sheogorath chattered on, his laughter gurgling forth and filling her mind like water to a sea-cave, the foam rising up, the salt cloying, touching everything—

A sound half-sob, half-laugh left her. I don't know what to do, she admitted. If I'm lost to this madness forever.

She was aware enough to know what was happening, but unable to stop it. Bridget ached for the woman, but she knew that there were things that could be done. Her look was warm, sympathetic, but not pitying.

What's important is the voices you listen to, not the voices you hear. And there might be ways to make the other ones quieter, or easier to ignore, if you are willing to try. Bridget said, being unusually careful in her words. She wasn't only interested in the medicine of the body; she'd become a medic to make a difference for others, and that included illnesses that weren't visible to the eye.

If it really was a god, then maybe she couldn't do anything. But she wasn't willing to bet on it, and if Maegi wanted to reclaim her life, Bridget would do what she could. What does he say to you?

She snorted, though without scorn. I've heard many voices in my life, she admitted. And Jaes. . .where was Jaes? Jaes was blocked out, now, by Sheogorath's cackling.

I wanted to die, Maegi said: a rehash. But Sheogorath made me live. He says there's more for me—there's a plan for me. But I don't want to live a plan carved out by the god of my family.

Maegi shuddered all over, trying to rid herself of his presence.

"Fat chance, little girl."

She tightly shut her eyes. I want it to stop.

She seemed to be distraught and spiraling in a trap that was within her own mind. It wasn't as easy as simply knowing that, though. Whatever she heard, she wasn't choosing to, but she could learn to filter it out. Bridget didn't have a lot of experience with this sort of ailment, but she had some.

Then you don't need to. They don't get to choose. You do. Whatever gods might be speaking to her, but they clearly had no sway in her body or the choices she made. They have as much power as you give them. What did they want from her? She hadn't said, and Bridget didn't bother asking again.

What would they do, if you told them they were nothing? If the voices were kind, she might take a lighter approach, but these were clearly not. The best option seemed to be to invalidate them and to therefore, maybe, convince Maegi's subconscious that the statement was true.

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. You don't know the daedra, Maegi replied. They don't leave you. They hook their claws into you and. . . She clicked her tongue against her teeth, and the sound echoed in the cavernous atmosphere of this place.

They're not nothing, she continued. They're evil. But they're not nothing.

She looked at Bridget, eyes wandering dispassionately down the three-legged form of her companion. Do you believe in gods, Bridget? she asked. Or have you ever?

It wasn't as easy as denying, forgetting. She'd done enough of that to last a lifetime.

I do. She didn't know Maegi's gods, or whatever god they served here, but she had her own. She had never bought the idea that they ran the world on any type of design, though. Life was too full of chaos for that.

But if they want a life, they can find their own. I don't think they have any claim over mine. She could acknowledge them without giving them that power.

I suppose I just think it's your choice. You can listen or you can tell them to go to hell, as many times as it takes. Bridget's words and gaze were direct, but there was also a casual lack of conviction to the way she spoke about it. She didn't come from a pack where religion held a large sway and it was hard to imagine the importance it must have, taking up literal real estate in someone's constant thoughts.

You're lucky, then, she remarked. Once, she had thought it was a choice. She had picked Jaes and shut everything else out, and it had worked for a while. A shabby dam built up against rising water. All well, until it all grew to great heights, and then. . .

The dam had broken. When? She couldn't pinpoint it, exactly.

How could one find the first fracture in a broken bit of glass?

She rested her cheek against the ground and closed her eyes. I'm tired, Maegi murmured. Thank you, Bridget.

A dismissal if there ever was one, but sleep did not come. Not immediately, anyway. It never did.

She knew a cue to leave when she heard it. Bridget had given about all the advice she had to give anyway, and any more would just sound like preaching. She could have offered herbs or drugs to quiet the noise, but she had neither here... and seeing the way Harka had responded to the ones he'd been given, she wasn't sure she trusted them. Hopefully she could find her own measure of peace. If not, perhaps Bridget could ask Morgana if there were suitable substitutes around for chamomile or valeria.

She just dipped her head and then left, hesitating a moment before awkwardly making her way back in the direction she'd come.