#mostly i want that spray that melts down flesh and leaves just a skull behind

[praetorqueenreyna]

If I'm not supposed to root for the predator why do they have him serve so much cunt

[astral-flame]

Pamina made her way toward the tent. It was large, too large to not house someone of some importance, and draped in various bright silks. Outside were two tables, both lined in melted candles and various offerings. The tribe saw her as a wisewoman, a seer even. Pamina knew better.

With no hesitation, Pamina threw aside several silks and stepped inside out of the hot desert sun. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but once they had, she found that nothing had changed since her childhood. Various items, mostly of magical properties, lined the walls, some of absolutely no use to the seeker. Really, all of it was useless to her, at least at first glance. It didn’t stop her from moving to immediately rummage through the various boxes, crates, and baskets, throwing artifacts and relics haphazardly to the floor as she went. Where had she gotten half of this junk? Why was she keeping it?

“You won’t find it,” A voice spoke from the back of the tent. Pamina’s head snapped in the direction of the sound. An older, grey miqo’te woman stepped out from behind the curtain, shielded behind a large, yet simple, wooden table. Her skin was dark and tan, leathered with age. Even in the dim lighting and distance, she could see the bright, glowing orchid of one eye hiding beneath the wisps of silver that fell from the hair she’d piled atop her head. She knew that the other was a milky white, its sight lost some time ago and that her hair had never been cut in her seventy-something years on this shard. She also knew that no matter her appearance, the old woman in front of her way anything but frail. “You’ll never find it. That was the point.”

“Grandmother,” Pamina addressed her, tossing a crystal apparatus she’d in her hands to the side. “Long time. Where is it?”

The old woman frowned at the discarded item. “Absolutely no respect for someone else’s things. Little changes.”

“Where is it?” Pamina demanded.

“I knew you were coming. I saw it. I prepared all of them.” She said, moving to sit at the table at the back of the tent. “They told me that I was crazy, that you would never be stupid enough to return, so I prepared them. And here you stand, alive and in the flesh. Just as I told them. Won’t they thank me now?”

Before Pamina could speak, the old woman continued. “Tell me, child, why our people should let you live. Why should I not put you down like the rabid dog you are? Why should the great Azeyma not strike you down where you stand? What penance have you paid for the blood on your hands?”

Her grandmother pushed herself up from the table and began to collect the items that Pamina had tossed around. The miqo’te shook her head. “I can never make up for the lives lost. I came to terms with that a long time ago, and you should, too. But I need it back. Without it, others will get hurt. People I care about-”

“Ah, yes,” The old woman interrupted her, still reorganizing her mess. “The wayward seeker and his unborn son. The harlot from the woods. Yes, I have seen them. These are the people that you worry about.”

Pamina frowned. “Don’t call her that. I-”

“Would they be in danger if you had stayed away from the Shroudling and her companions? Would your seeker and his son still be safe if you’d not ripped them away from the other woman?”

“That’s not what happened, or what I’m doing. How can I take his son away from her? He’s not even born yet. I-”

“Always meddling where you do not belong, U’mina, picking up others’ scraps. That is your lot in life. That is what you have chosen, to lie in the dirt and the mud with the other garbage. Don’t look at me like that, I have seen it. I know how you have chosen to live your life since leaving here. Selling yourself for coin, lying under whoever or whatever will have you for the night. Anything to feel like you have a purpose, yes? But you do not have a purpose, do you? Poor little Mina. No tribe, no purpose, nothing. It is you who should have died that night, I would think, and not the others. Yet you, a useless husk, think you can save the innocent lives you have so carelessly put into danger just to feel a tiny bit alive? Tragic.”

“Because it would have been any different here. At least now, I get paid.” Pamina muttered.

Her grandmother spun around. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” She mumbled, wiping at her eyes. Why was she crying? Since when had she become such a crier? “This is pointless. Give me the stone.”

“And let you put more lives at risk? You’re out of your mind.”

“The only way I am putting anyone at risk is by not being in possession of that stone, and you know it.”

“What I know and what you recall are two very different things, girl. Besides, I got rid of that long ago. I could not help you even if I wanted to. The only thing you will receive from me is scorn. Leave. You are not wanted here. You haven’t been for years. Leave, or you will force my hand.”

Pamina stared at her grandmother for some time, especially as the surprisingly mobile old woman approached her. Her, in her decadent robes and messy hair, and her one blind eye and her shining necklace--

Her necklace.

The dark, purple gem hung from the old woman’s neck, dangling from a silver chain. It seemed cloudy almost, shimmering and swirling with aether and something deeper. It felt like if she stared at it long enough, it would swallow her whole.

“You’re wearing it,” Pamina said finally, staring at the old woman’s collar. “My stone. You’re wearing my stone. Have you been using it? Is that why you’re still standing, you old bat?”

“No, don’t!” The old woman cried out, but it was too late. Pamina snatched the stone up in her hand and yanked, snapping the chain from around her grandmother’s neck. There was a sudden sharp pain that shot through her skull and caused her vision to swim in black lines. All she could hear were screams. She could feel the heat from the flames on her skin. People scattered from the burning buildings, and from her.

“Please!” Pleaded the woman who she held by the neck, eyes wide and hands clutching at her wrist.

“You dare take her from me?!” Pamina bellowed.

“No! I didn’t! I wouldn’t take anything from you! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! Please, you’re-” But Pamina would hear none of it. Her claws sank into the woman’s throat and tore it out. Blood sprayed outward and covered Pamina before she simply discarded the corpse in the sand like garbage.

“What are you doing?!” Cried a voice from behind her. Nijah stood there, outlined by the glow of the flame. “Look around you! Look at what you’ve caused! Haven’t you done enough?!”

Pamina gave no warning as she launched herself at her twin, who caught her with ease. What he could not do was fend off her claws from tearing and ripping into his face. She felt his blood, warm on her hands as she tried to claw his eyes out. No… Just one hand. Just one?

“You will not have her!” Pamina shrieked into his mauled face, but as quickly as it had come, the vision faded. The tent returned, and she was staring down into the singular, lifeless, golden eye of her grandmother beneath her. How had they ended up on the floor? She blinked several times before looking over her hands. In one, she held the stone strung on a chain. It shimmered faintly with aether and...something else. What was that? In the other, she held a still-beating heart. A heart? How did it get there?

Fear gripped her so suddenly. Pamina scrambled backwards off of her grandmother’s corpse. It was when she saw the gaping cavity in her chest that she fell to the ground, screaming. Pain wracked her entire body and her head, and after a bright, blinding light overtook the entire inside of the tent, the seeker’s world went dark.

---

Three days would pass before Nijah would see any sign of life from the wisewoman’s home. Truth be told, after the light that illuminated the evening sky several days prior, no one dared inspect the tent. Honestly, he thought his sister was dead.

But as he approached the end of the path leading to the old seer’s home, there she stood clear as day, donning a dark cloak, a scythe strapped to her back he hadn’t seen in years, and some sort of animal skull atop her head.

What the fuck?

“Pamina?” He called as he began to approach her. When she did not reply, his steps became a little slower, more cautious. “...Mina?”

“U’lrinha Melai is dead,” She spoke, her back still turned to him as she stared at the tent from beneath the skull. “Tell your people that she will not be consulting the bones for them ever again.”

Before he could reply, she turned. She shoved a shriveled heart into his hands before she set off down the path opposite of the settlement. As she began to walk, the tent behind Nijah erupted into flames, startling him even further and causing him to drop the heart to the ground.

“And while you’re at it, tell them that I am very much alive and that I haven’t forgotten. I will never forget.”

[ @symbiotic-seeker @the-bloody-prince @straycatte @handofcards for general mentions, @seda-xiv @kimiko-ffxiv @storytellerarin @j-yaya for ‘wood harlot’s companions’ mentions ]

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