Malielle is starting to get mildly sick of Sheogorath.
Just. Mildly. It's not all that healthy to be very sick of a Daedric Prince, after all.
Still, she's run his little quest to help heal the mind of the late Pelagius the Mad, and hopefully he'll drop her somewhere in Tamriel.
(She should really have learned not to jinx herself by now.)
Sheogorath turns from where he'd dismissed his follower, saying, "And as for you, my little mortal minion... Feel free to keep the Wabbajack. As a symbol of my... Oh, just take the damn thing." He pauses, then: "And while I said you're free to go - I feel back isn't quite the best option here. Oh, don't give me that look. This will be quite amusing for me, and only mildly deadly for you! If you ever find your way back, do look me up in New Sheo. We can share a strawberry torte. Ta ta!"
Before she can voice a protest, there's a whooshing noise, and she's elsewhere.