Lion Head Mesa she is lonely most of the time
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Limit Two 
She smelled her here.

Just a brief walk, from one place to another, but it was enough to catch the scent of a ghost.

@Jakoul, Maegi called out, her voice hoarse and bouncing hard off the walls of the mesa. Jakoul—

She herself felt and looked half-dead, a ragged pale figure dragging herself over the rusty vista. She'd seized last night, and pissed herself; after a cleansing and restorative bath, she was damp, water still streaming from her tail.

The sky above was darkening.

Jakoul! 

Jacob Marley's spirit, rattling chains at her doorstep.
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Jakoul could not have told anyone where most of her time went.

She stirred feverishly during darker times, she fled from the palace occasionally. The woods lingered in her mind and she wondered if she should return. Steep bones in ancient comfort.

"Jakoul!"

A phantom gripped her heart, the woods all over, but this was far too real. She kicked upright with a frenzy and her hind leg ached for it.

A bat out of hell in search of her specter.

There, as real as anything else seemed these days.

She dashed forward to the woman with a symphony of whines. Not minding one bit the droplets of herbal water.
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The two collided, the moon and its dark cradle of night, with Maegi near-sobbing in her former co-leader's embrace. Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks, and she ached all over from the sudden rush of happy relief the woman's appearance had granted her.

It's true, she whispered against the black shoulder. It is you—I smelled you, but I didn't think. . . How, how did you find me again?

Perhaps it was destiny, like all the times she and Mou had been reunited. Maybe Jakoul was as much her soulmate as the one-eyed man.

Her shoulders trembled with emotion.
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Jakoul did not have words for these kinds of emotions, but she had always been so tightly wound around Maegi. Time apart had not made her any type of inseparable from the woman. The woman had been the beast's heartbeat time and time again.

The once Morta knew she would not still be standing if not for the once Nona.

Always find Maegi. She murmured in hoarse tones and sought to run her nose along the pulse in the pale woman's throat. It had been an accident, truthfully, but Jakoul knew her words also held truth. She had proven time and time again she would rotate the woman like a dark moon.

Why here?
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Always find Maegi.

Always

always

always

The word reverberated in her mind, cutting through all the bad that had settled there over so many moons. She clung to Jakoul, only stepping back to look at the dark she-wolf when a question was asked of her.

I met the Pharaoh on the island, Maegi replied. Do you remember? You were there, for a short time. . . And Pharaoh and I had a bond there. I came upon this place by accident.

She didn't mention why she had been headed this way in the first place. And you? she countered. What drew you here if. . . If not, in fact, myself?
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The Pharaoh and Maegi had a bond. Jakoul had thought the man odd, unusual, alluring. Although odd and unusual were words that could be used for the dark beast too — and here she was with Maegi.

Find man. Follow. Him sick, healer make me help.

I stay. Pharoah make Mazoi. Now she fell silent, eyes turned to peer into the face of her pale moon.

What was Maegi here?
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As usual, Jakoul was straight and to the point, with few words. She appreciated it more than ever in this land of wolves and dogs with flowing, flowery tongue. They spoke so much and said so little; her old friend's simplicity was peace.

Mazoi. She only vaguely grasped Akashingo's hierarchy, enough to know at least that Pharaoh hadn't made the woman a fellahin, which pleased her.

Was she planning to stay?

I'm so glad you're here, Maegi sighed, drawing close once more. Jakoul, I— She brought her lips to the woman's cheek and admitted what she hadn't to anyone but herself—

I think I'm dying.
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this got long, as usual never any need to match <3

"Jakoul, I—"

Her ears cupped forward, eager to once more hear the voice of Maegi. Always comfort, always warmth, always home.

"I think I'm dying.

A plummeting sensation in her gut, a sinking stone. The words did not seem true — or perhaps she simply refused to hear them as truth. Such an impossible thought. Her eyes watered, but she ignored them in favor of staring through the droplets at the pale furs of Maegi.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

NO. NO. NO.

Fear and sadness replaced by a sudden swell of anger. Not at Maegi, never at Maegi — but what thing had wrought the woman such a thought? There was an ugly desire in Jakoul. If it was another who did this, she would have their throat. If it was an illness, she would find a way to root it out. Gut out the rot and restore the woman. There was a doctor here and Jakoul could go collect more, she could learn and she could heal and she could —

Could, could, could.

Her mind became an ugly roar of compulsive thoughts and ill tidings. She would point a finger at everybody and every thing until she found a source to direct this ugliness upon. The Morta had always been there to defend, to protect, to be the eyes and arms of those entrusted to them.

How had they let this happen to Maegi?

If only they had stayed, tried a bit harder and been a bit better. If they had not been so waifish and given into so many fleeting desires in their times here and other places. She found a twisting great comfort in thinking that this was a thing she had done, a thing that she might have time or strength to heal.

She could not let such a thing befall Maegi.

Why? Rasped out in a harsh breath, eyes shined and now stung wildly.

Who or what had compelled such a thought?
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The look on Jakoul's face could have shattered her heart. Her eyes, too, overflowed with tears as she tried to answer the simple question: Why?

I— Don't know. But she did. But how to explain it?

Maegi swallowed. It's Sheogorath. The madman god of my family's tradition. He overcame me one day, maybe a year ago, and nothing has been the same since.

"So you've finally accepted your fate."

I have headaches, she continued, pushing past his mocking voice. And nausea. Horrible dreams. Seizures, Jakoul—I've never had those before. And all the time, his voice in my head. Laughing,

Laughing

He put pestilence in my womb, Maegi burst out, nearly choking on the words. The babies, the worst of my family's line. . . And Mou is dead, and I tried to die too, but he's keeping me alive and I don't know why, I don't know why

Her words came faster and faster, more desperate, more slurred. She felt a fit coming on and fought it, trying to fix her attention on Jakoul through whatever semblance of vision she had left between the tears and her pounding skull.

I don't know what he wants—but I know I can't survive this. I can barely go on.

The admission left her feeling small, weak, pathetic.

She gulped down rising bile and stared at her friend, eyes wide and streaming.
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"It's Sheogorath."

And she thought that might be the end, that one simple name would bring an end to this all. Jakoul had a name, she could find a face. She could rip and —

"The madman god of my family's tradition."

And how did you tear out the throat of a god, Jakoul?

The diagnoses, the symptoms, everything seemed so grim. The shadows that the mesa threw over them might as well have been glaring daylight compared to this darkness. Babies cursed, Mou dead, Maegi had tried to follow. There was a slick acidic taste in the back of her throat that threatened to mount further. A thick coating of drool smothered her mouth, a tentative lick to drying lips as she listened.

"—but I know I can't survive this. I can barely go on."

Grim, grim, grim.

She stared into those familiar, mismatched eyes.

Do anything for Maegi. Want help.

Even if it was ugly, even if it condemned her to this madman god too.
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Again, simplicity. Few words and all the support was what the woman offered. Maegi sagged before her, softly butting the crown of her head into the narrow onyx shoulder.

Just stay, Jakoul, she whispered, desperate. Stay with me. Don't go.

Everyone else had gone.

Jakoul was her one tether to reality, now. If she left. . .

Please, Maegi murmured.

She folded in on herself, sinking to the ground in an alabaster heap, overcome with emotion. The tears were drying, stiff rivulets along the fur of her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
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She draped a leg over the crumpled form of Maegi, a low whine in her throat.

Stay, She crooned lowly, running her nose over the pale woman in a soothing manner. Or rather what she hoped was a soothing manner.

Jakoul stay with Maegi.

It had become clear what the damage of leaving had done. There was no need or desire to do that anymore. She could make bed in Akashingo, she could toil here as Mazoi and tend to Maegi on shift rotations. She could relive her days of being a Morta in this way.
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Stay in my chambers, Maegi added, closing her eyes at the woman's touch along her pelt. She was relaxed in the first time in gods knew how long, and though Jakoul invoked many memories of the dark woods within her, they were good ones, at least.

She began walking that way, gently nudging Jakoul to follow. Did you see Sakhmet in your travels? she asked, quietly, hopefully. The two had connected before; perhaps they were drawn to each other, too.

Please be happy, she thought fervently, thinking of her daughter. Please be safe.
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200 for you!!!!

She gave no fuss to such a request. More than eager to abandon Mazoi corridors and find herself in the place of a familiar body instead.

(She still had not placed Raimo as a familiar body.)

Her narrow body stayed pressed along the crooks of Maegi as they walked, shoulders hunched and eyes piercing side to side. The very figure of a defensive guard. This was her time with Maegi. None others.

No see, She admitted with a soft frown. It had been some time since she had seen the ruddy girl. Woman now, she supposed. How odd a thought.

Send one for her? Maybe find.

Jakoul would offer herself but...very keenly and selfishly eager to not leave Maegi again.
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happy 200!!

An answer in the negative. She sighed, trudging along. Then Jakoul offered a beam of light.

If you can find someone, Maegi said, hope blooming somewhat in her voice. To find her, and send her here. A dark red wolf with white eyes. . .

Oh, Sakhmet! She missed her so.

But she'd missed Jakoul, too, and leaned upon the dark woman, happily stumbling upon their chambers when they arrived. She nodded, gesturing the woman forward.

Please stay with me, she said again. You're all I have. I love you.

She sank down upon her bedding, weary with the reunion and the rest of the events of the day. Her knees buckled. She folded down, placing her muzzle upon her paws.
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It would be done. To the best of Jakoul's abilities, she could find somebody. Prep them with the information necessary to hunt down the ruddy girl. None of the Melonii's blended into a crowd, certainly anybody sent to find Sakhmet could do so.

She would sink down to the bedding with Maegi, her heart in a deathly grip at the woman's state still.

Brewing on all the confessions.

Love Maegi. Always. She cooed back in return. Maegi's form buckled, but Jakoul was there. Prepared to curl against her in a defensive manner. Anybody who might disrupt them would be met with feverish teeth.

Rest.

She prompted the former Nona, placing a gentle touch to her crown.