She had spoken with Pharaoh of her plan. One lone woman was like to be missed, versus the whole of the pack. It was intended to be recon, not a rescue.
But like fucking hell she was leaving without the boy. Not this damn time.
Medusa was quiet. Careful. And perhaps not alone in this extraction. If other eyes saw her, she counted on that thought—that they’d let her take what she wanted, if it meant no others among them might be injured further.
First thing first—put something in the waters as she skulked along. It wouldn’t kill anyone—whatever it was she carried with her was for sleep, nothing more (regretfully). And by the time she found the encampment, she hoped that her contribution would be consumed. In a few hours, it’d be worthless—but as it moved along the waterways then? There was hope.
Medusa kept to the shadows, seeking him out. She would save him. Qiao, too—if she could.
6 hours ago
Saya drifted into the cramped den like a specter, all elegance laced with malice. Her slender figure cast an elongated shadow over the young boy, her golden hair catching the scant light, shimmering with an almost ethereal beauty—one that made her seem more like a harbinger than a savior. She barely glanced at the boy’s broken leg, his lacerated side, as if his suffering were nothing more than a delightful backdrop to her twisted performance.
Her lips curved, that exquisite smile hiding venom beneath its surface. She coiled herself with a graceful menace that spoke louder than words. The air in the den grew thick, an invisible hand closing in around his throat. She could see it in his eyes—an animal’s instinct to escape, to survive. But he wouldn’t get that mercy from her.
Then she could be proud of the one she's going to make.
Her lips curved, that exquisite smile hiding venom beneath its surface. She coiled herself with a graceful menace that spoke louder than words. The air in the den grew thick, an invisible hand closing in around his throat. She could see it in his eyes—an animal’s instinct to escape, to survive. But he wouldn’t get that mercy from her.
Look at you,she whispered, her voice like silk threaded with shards of glass.
All of this...and whose fault is it, I wonder?She let the question hang, studying him with a detached curiosity. She was doing this for @Soto. For them. For Verapaz. For what they did to him, what they took.
Oh, don’t look away,she added softly, her voice a poisonous caress, urging him to hold her gaze with her paw beneath his chin.
You should be proud of the mess you’ve made.
Then she could be proud of the one she's going to make.
Snakeskin boy cast eyes of past souls to the mouth of the cave.
No, no no no no no.
A woman, woven in the sandswept hues of the desert they all called home; first of these wolves he'd seen that didn't look so ugly and marred.
Like he was, now.
But there was another type of ugliness here, the sort he'd learned to hear. He'd inch back as she got close, as he always did when one of these monsters got close. He didn't do anything! He didn't try to run! He was good... He was always good.
He couldn't make sense of it and yet he was forced to. Given mere fragments of seconds to adjust to how things were going to be.
Fault of Nino, dreaded hound, soul stealer. He paid his penance. Not that Nokht knew of it. Not that he knew the man was cold and cursed and it was all his own fault same as the hound. He killed him just as much as pharoah's teeth did—guilt by association.
A pale hand lifted his chin, and eyes, terrible eyes stared down at him. A pit filled his stomach.
He didn't know what he was apologizing for. But it was all he could do, the only defense he had.
No, no no no no no.
A woman, woven in the sandswept hues of the desert they all called home; first of these wolves he'd seen that didn't look so ugly and marred.
Like he was, now.
But there was another type of ugliness here, the sort he'd learned to hear. He'd inch back as she got close, as he always did when one of these monsters got close. He didn't do anything! He didn't try to run! He was good... He was always good.
He couldn't make sense of it and yet he was forced to. Given mere fragments of seconds to adjust to how things were going to be.
Fault of Nino, dreaded hound, soul stealer. He paid his penance. Not that Nokht knew of it. Not that he knew the man was cold and cursed and it was all his own fault same as the hound. He killed him just as much as pharoah's teeth did—guilt by association.
A pale hand lifted his chin, and eyes, terrible eyes stared down at him. A pit filled his stomach.
..I'm sorry..
He didn't know what he was apologizing for. But it was all he could do, the only defense he had.
A voice. Medusa followed it in absolute quiet, used to this—reverting to the days when this was all that she did. Listen to conversations she ought not to. Be in places she shouldn’t, unknown. She was good at that… better than anything else. But being a priestess had it’s uses and benefits, and that was why she had stepped into the light.
The light, as it turned out, wasn’t where she really belonged.
Still though, she didn’t have that 100% figured out. Medusa wanted to go far in Akashingo and had every belief that being a mouthpiece of the Gods was the right way to get there. Shit, it helped her a little tonight. Hers was a holy mission, guided by…
Who in the hell was this long-legged babe? And why was she here? Too fucking pretty, unfairly pretty. So pretty, Medusa almost missed whose face she was holding.
She was supposed to stay in the shadows. Medusa couldn’t tell you what she did next. Couldn’t tell you if she was loud, or if she was quiet, or if she was quick about it or if it took some time. Like an ambush predator Medusa erupted, going for the back of her head to pull her away and incapacitate her long enough to grab her son, and get the fuck out of dodge.
Maybe the bitch would see stars like Medusa had—love at first sight for the white woman… but something different for the gorgeous one who was way too quick to break her heart.
Her boy, apologizing, for what???
Medusa would be even quicker to grab her boy and go, the moment that she could.
The light, as it turned out, wasn’t where she really belonged.
Still though, she didn’t have that 100% figured out. Medusa wanted to go far in Akashingo and had every belief that being a mouthpiece of the Gods was the right way to get there. Shit, it helped her a little tonight. Hers was a holy mission, guided by…
Who in the hell was this long-legged babe? And why was she here? Too fucking pretty, unfairly pretty. So pretty, Medusa almost missed whose face she was holding.
She was supposed to stay in the shadows. Medusa couldn’t tell you what she did next. Couldn’t tell you if she was loud, or if she was quiet, or if she was quick about it or if it took some time. Like an ambush predator Medusa erupted, going for the back of her head to pull her away and incapacitate her long enough to grab her son, and get the fuck out of dodge.
Maybe the bitch would see stars like Medusa had—love at first sight for the white woman… but something different for the gorgeous one who was way too quick to break her heart.
Her boy, apologizing, for what???
Medusa would be even quicker to grab her boy and go, the moment that she could.
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