Starglow Basin Soto.

Limping in, lip quivering. Muttering terribly as that scent burned, oh, the one that was so invasively familiar. Inhaling thick pounds of dust rolling towards her face, and adjusting to the burning. 

She found the red women not long ago. The saving grace to the damned devilspawn. Taking time to drag across the desert, to rest in breaks of travel. Not tumbling down on that front leg, but holding it awkwardly as it contorted in throws. Twisting, bending, and a crooked wince as the demons face squinted shut. 

Pathetic whimpers fumbled from her mouth. Those spire ears once kissed by a prince now flattened down to that inky head. Fumbling, muttering. Incoherent, just complaining. Whining. Doe-eyed and a low walking body with a bellied tail.

Feeling overpowered by the growing hive before her.

A sound closer to a hyena's whined out from her dry lips, pleading: Attention, atention, attention!

And the words she mumbled desperately grew more clear.

"@Soto?"

Clear.

"Soto. Soto. Soto. Soto."

he’s still reeling from the news. their last bargaining chip. dematerialized. lifted. 

how the fuck does that happen?

juarez tells him it’s osiel. niño thinks it’s the new bitch; too pretty, he points out. juarez grunts in agreement. 

soto squeezes his eyes shut, as if that would banish their ghosts from his mind. but it’s a different kind of ghost that comes fumbling around the borders he’s securing — and were it not for the fact she had once FED him, soto would have killed her then and there. 

because she was one of them. 

her leg’s busted and she looks like she’s rode through the desert for days. he sniffs the air; nothing but stale sweat and acrid body odor. 

que ha occurido? he queries distrustfully, one ear turned back to the two ghosts bickering about her arrival in the back of his skull.

A brief look of surprise when the mans figure truly formed. Never was her nose right. 

Why was he out here?

What do you want? Why are you here? What happened?

Soto would question, and why would he not? After having it out with Khusobek and somehow being all the way here now. Maybe let free. Maybe escaped. But Muat-riya was filled with guards and those ready to protect, and so that was unlikely. Didn't know which one it was, just that it was one of them.

Maybe didn't care about which one.

Also didn't know which question was asked.

The northwest received a malicious raise of lips, as if it would come marching at the imp's half-curled figure.

A defiant frown formed, staring in the distance at an invisible figure of Akashingo. A bratty sniff, like its shadow could have sized her up. "Don't want me no more." 

Searching distantly for the burning woman. "San-gre? Sangre help me. So, find way here." Sangre..Sangre..Sangre

It hadn't been Soto's scent at first that drew the woman in.

she says something soto doesn't understand - but what use are her words?

actions follow words, and actions get people killed. he's so fucking irritated; one minute he's bringing the green to her place, and the next he's in a prison cell for weeks. tortured. beaten.

released.

so much happened after; a mudslide of blurry events swallowing everything in its wake.

safiya. an eye.

legend in the crypt-cell, peering in.

that she fed him was the only thing staying his violent advancement now. soto eyes her up and down. about to turn her away until she says a name.

sangre.

what does she want with sangre? nino loses it, some clattering racket made behind his ears.

soto closes his eyes and both phantoms go silent.

now it's just the phantom in front of him.

que quieres? his eyes map her posture warily, hoping to extract some meaning from every shift of her dark fur.