Starglow Basin bruja,

@Eset , @Soto

the basin was alive only with the soft murmurs of the wind as it whispered through the jagged rocks. shadows loomed heavy, cast by the pale light of the waning moon. it was the dead of night when saya returned, her lithe frame moving like a phantom through the uneven terrain.

atop her shoulders lay the weight of her prize, the unconscious form of eset. saya's steps were deliberate, her lavender eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. the hollow loomed ahead, a dark and yawning pit that served as a prison for the unlucky. without ceremony, she stopped at its edge, shifting her burden before letting eset’s body slide from her shoulders and fall heavily into the hollow below.

the sound of the impact was dull, swallowed by the oppressive quiet of the night. saya straightened, brushing an invisible speck from her shoulder. she tilted her head back, her thin muzzle parting to release a long, low howl that cut through the stillness like a blade. the call was for soto, a summons to witness what she had delivered.

her lips curled into a shadow of a smile, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she waited. the witch had fulfilled her promise. now it was time to see how soto would reward her efforts...hopefully.

it’s one of those lean nights where the quiet swallows everything and the world seems steeped in the gospel of some earlier epoch; where time has perhaps not galloped ahead so long, and the rise of life was still in its first nascent breath. 

a howl; soto turns from lookout point and down towards the sloping plains. the moon here so threadbare his feeble shadow dances before him. 

he finds saya with company. his gaze turns to the slumped shape below her, noting the glitter of pride in saya’s gaze. la bruja? he confirms, studying the lithe form of their captor and noting not for the first time that this coven of women seemed to spring all from the same clade; as if there were an archetype they must follow before they took the first harrowing step to becoming witch.

her grin was sharp as broken glass, glinting under the weak moonlight. eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and pride, the shadows of the night deepening the hollowed contours of her sharp face. she dipped her head ever so slightly, a theatrical nod as she relished the confirmation.

sí, she purred, her voice a low, dangerous melody. la bruja.

her gaze flicked to the slumped figure below her, a lazy wave of her tail brushing the ground as if to underline her prize.

saya moved with the deliberate grace of someone fully aware of their power, her movements almost serpentine as she returned her gaze to him.

¿qué harás con ella?

Her gasp is guttural, buried in a dry leather throat that scrapes for air.

The sound carries. A cave. There are voices. Home, she thinks.

Eyes open to darkness; darkness, and pale lavender. Darkness, and a single yellow sun that festers with too much familiarity.

Skittering; mumbling, tender paws clutch for even ground, chest coiling with a scream she has no power to release.

Soto.

GUESS WHO GETS MY FIRST LAPTOP POST?? U GUYS DO!!! *maniacal cackling*

saya's silken tail flutters as if to say behold, and soto does;

he leans down towards that skittering figure. she lifts her foxish face into the waning moonlight with a gasp. there is a shadow that runs the length of her fraught forehead before it dances into the bleeding blackness of her half-obscured face; a face soto knows.

is it truly her?

he grunts as he rises and in that singular eye glowers an awful entity of knowing. saya has done better than she could hope but her question remains ignored. he is picturing the blood on the cell; he is picturing the grub; he is picturing the long, slender shape of something truly hideous while juarez and nino remain startlingly silent.

all soto can think of is the callous indifference shown by this witch as her captain flailed soto. starved him. beat him. bound him and gagged him and trundled him and --

bueno. he jerks his head to where qiao was kept but the burn of his golden eye remains steadily on eset. conseguir a la bruja.

saya steps forward without a word, her presence fluid and deliberate. her gaze shifts to qiao, unyielding as steel, and her movements are smooth as she obeys soto’s command. the flick of her tail betrays no emotion—no hesitation, no fear, only the precise intent that has always defined her.

her grip finds the witch, firm but not unkind. she pulls qiao upright, her own expression blank as stone, offering no commentary nor judgment. saya knows better than to speak in this moment, the weight of soto’s history with the witch evident in the tension that lingers like a storm on the horizon.

silent, saya moves, guiding qiao where she must go. the air around them is heavy, thick with something unspoken but palpable. whatever this reunion is meant to be, she remains the executor of soto’s will, her role clear, her silence louder than any words she might offer.

the days pass by, many — qiao marking each of them with a line in the sand. she is kept under watch, but her treatment is not unkind — still, it does nothing to ease the resentment she felt towards her captors.

when saya appeared qiao rose, noting the serene blankness of her guard’s features. on some hidden wind the overworld chittered — weaving a song of danger.

herded towards some unknown destination, qiao’s eyes widened as she saw just who it was slumped in the sandstone.

eset. it was then the song of danger became a roar and qiao knew the woman’s purpose here was to see her line ended.

she hissed and suddenly wheeled on her captors, fangs bared as she reached for soto.

The single, refulgent fire glares.

It burns. It recognizes.

Eset shivers. She remembers  how she had endorsed his suffering. How she conceded to his torture. Her order as hebsut could have killed him, or freed him—

But she had used her power to hurt; to squelch him in the same poison as his victims. In her poison. The knowledge manifests as bile beneath her tongue. Here is where it would commence. Here, where there are no voices, and only prices.

Her rasping follows listlessly after the silverwoman, “Please, Sontana– he– he will kill me.”  Eset’s brain swells against the interior of her skull. Did she deserve it? Did he predict her death? For a moment there is only empty darkness between she and he. Then when the woman returns, it is with another captor. A coyote–

Qiao?

Something snaps inside the hemet. She knows what Eset does not. It is enough to spur the half-coy to her own feet. She scrambles. Qiao bares her teeth, and Eset too lunges with fangs meant for Soto.

by the time soto realizes these two bitches know each other, it is too late. 

his single eye widens as the crone comes for him, a streaking blur of red and the sickly smell of rot and dust. 

he drops his shoulder so the crone can find no entry, trusting that saya would do her part to subdue her. 

it is now the fairer witch that earns his attention. in another life, he might have fallen for her as he did marciela — but the sorrow corrupting her gaze reminds him bitterly of his past disappointments, and he rises to meet her with a clash of teeth all too ready to enact vengeance for the disabuse he’d been subject in the cellars to under eset’s indifferent eye.

let me know if you want me to change anything! went off some assumptions.

qiao lunged, but saya was faster. a silver blur, she intercepted with precision, her shoulder slamming into the crone’s side. qiao staggered, claws scrambling for purchase, but saya’s jaws snapped around her scruff, firm and unyielding.

the coywolf thrashed, growling and snapping, but saya held her in place, a low growl rumbling from her chest—a warning. only when qiao stilled did saya release her, stepping back with fluid control.

her cold gaze flicked to soto briefly before settling on qiao, sharp and watchful. no words needed.