Starglow Basin secret tunnel

@Nokht @Saya

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.

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.

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. ..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 viperess had just been attending to the poor whelp. She enjoyed his fear, drank it like the last droplets of euphoria from the spring, and let her claws rake over the healing lacerations on his side. Fresh blood pooled from his skin, and before she could take a deadly bite—

Saya hissed through her teeth, feeling a grip like searing iron dragging her backward. She clawed at the floor, desperate to reach Nokht, her plaything, her satisfaction—her tribute to Soto. But she was just out of reach, her nails skittering uselessly over the stone.

With a shriek that pierced the shadows, Saya tried to wrench herself free. Her eyes, wild with fury and disbelief, flicked back to Medusa, the woman’s silhouette emerging like a nightmare from the dark. Too late, Saya realized the boy was not alone. She twisted against the woman's hold, teeth bared in defiance. You have no idea who you’re dealing with, she snarled, straining forward, feeling the sting of failure seep into her veins.

In a moment of raw desperation, Saya stretched her gaze to Nokht, her face twisting with something almost close to regret. The boy was looking at her, fear etched in his eyes, a silent apology hovering between them. Useless! And yet… for that flicker of a second, the venom of failure pooled heavily in her chest. She spat, trying to mask her shame. Pathetic, she seethed, voice like ice, though the words now stung only herself.

But even as Medusa pulled her further away, Saya's mind flashed to Soto. She couldn't meet his gaze if he saw her like this—thwarted by a mother and her pitiful whelp.

Feel free for Medusa to claw at Saya's thighs, dragging her backward from the pup, while she gets unconcscious from her blow!

One moment, death reached out her curled claw, the boatman of the river styx here to take his coins and ferry him away for good. The next, a screech of surprise and eyes, pearls of malice, only malice, were dragged further away; for a moment he looked down on her, met her gaze with his own, surprise matched. 

He felt bad. He didn't want anybody to be hurt. What was happening now? He caught glimpse of the attacker, lithesome and cloaked in sheepskin hide; same as from that day. He didn't know her, but within her he saw a chance not to be confined here any longer. Even if this attempt would be his last, something otherworldly spurred him to move, peel himself from the corner and limp away quickly as marred limbs would allow him to. 

Let teeth find his throat, or the wind of freedom slick the fur on his nape.

Anything but stay here. He made the most of the borrowed time. Part of him warred not to leave the stranger behind, another part of him knew he could trust nothing and no one. He half-dragged his battered form to the mouth of the cave, speed not on his side.

She tore, she clawed—whatever it took to keep this woman away from him. Anger fueled her, drove her, as the wicked woman still made a bid for someone so small. There was a millisecond of satisfaction to be had when the woman shrieked, but Medusa was quick as a whip in an effort to quiet her down. She had to be. Fortunately, the cartel did half the work with their location. The rest was up to her.

This was quicker than she thought it’d be, and when the blonde one was still and silent she bolted after Nokht who hadn’t made it very far at all. There was time for nothing else but to pick him up, and to run for both of their fucking lives. No, one other thing. Medusa turned back to grab and redistribute a totem for @Qiao and @Nokht that Toula had made. She was meant to leave it at the border, but it would be more potent within—something to protect. She’d carried that with her bag of herbs, tucked away. It was… Something to let the woman know she wasn’t forgotten, on Medusa’s part now. From Toula, probably an indicator that they’d be coming or just some protective sigil. That took no time at all, but Medusa rushed to the next task even still. The most important one. 

One thing about Medusa was that she was swift. She wasted not even a second of time that was granted to her. And she thanked the God of time, asking for this minute to stretch on a little longer. 

Medusa would not stop until she was home. Boy in her mouth, Medusa would run and run and run and run until the palace was in sight. Even then, she would run into it—her heart hammered wildly against her chest. 

lmk if this pp needs to be adjusted, I kept it vague so you could decide what knocked her out!

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: language, ooc =/= ic!

from here on out, saya's words will be lowercased to indicate a change is psychosis.

the viperess could barely feel the blood as it trickled from her thighs. claws buried deep in her flesh, yet she only marred with malice and vengeance. this was her toy to be played with. a gift, and it was being stolen. fuck this ugly bitch and her vapid inbred fucking features. it had her more sick than the red hot pain coiling up her body, evaporating any feelings. her thighs were marred, the backs cut from her being dragged backward. in her own fucking home?

the back of her neck, blonde and ephemeral, was a warzone. bloodied and irreconcilable, her cognizant function whirred. was she ugly now? a beauty amongst the sheep— nothing worse than a pretty bitch was an angry one.

she caught a climpse of that cunt's face— albino freak, all white and washed out like she was bleached and left to rot in the sun, with her face stretched thin and eyes like cracked glass. she was something that didn’t belong in the daylight, a creature of nightmares pretending she could stand in the light without her skin flaking off.

and now, the creature wanted him. her perfect little prize, a promise of torment and amusement bound up just for her own delight—and this freak thought she could steal it away? as though saya would forget, or forgive, or let it pass.

beneath her breath, saya uttered a prayer— dioses oscuros, cumplan mi deseo, y háganla pagar por lo que me arrebató. a curse, a promise. her vision dampened. to the pup in her mouth, dripping blood, she'd hiss, incapacitate.

you will be mine, chiquitín.

her vision blacked.

Jaws grasped his neck again. For a moment, he embraced oblivion, hallucinated the coldness that etched at his limbs and when he felt himself lifted from the ground, he wondered if it had finally happened, his soul untethered from the battered husk he'd become.

But death did not come. Not quickly, at least, in blind fear he thrashed and fought with all he had left.

He wasn't brave. He wasn't strong. But he wouldn't die the same meek boy he'd been when they took him.

She said something. Medusa couldn’t understand it. It sounded nasty. Medusa wanted to snap something witty back, but the truth of it was Medusa was scared shitless. Fear was her fuel, but when she looked back at the woman whose features were warped ugly in their snarl anger became her momentum. 

Medusa wouldn’t forget her either. The villainess of every kids bedtime story. That Medusa had beaten her at all was solely thanks to the element of surprise—Medusa was made for flight, not fight. 

But fuck if she didn’t want to learn. The look she was given was a promise, after all. Maybe the blow to the head would have her forget it. Fingers fucking crossed. 

The kid squirmed in her mouth, but Medusa didn’t let go for nothing. The wind whipped at both of their furs before long as she was going, going—and gone.