in the woods somewhere
she always told him there was something wrong with those woods. she told him it was in his best interest to not go there alone, or at least, to only go with her. this time, he goes alone in search of her— and stumbles upon an ancient crime scene.
"Pandora?"
the king shifts as he pushes through the thick branches of the dying wood. it's usually easier to find her, she has a tendency to come when called— hell, she has a tendency to pop in unannounced just to see what he's up to. he doesn't have to be told twice to respect her privacy, he's more than happy to just leave her alone and mind his own business and not be forced to be around her. but when duty calls, he expects a response. as in their contract.
that's what brings him to pause as he enters the clearing in the taiga, the red leaves on the trees surrounding the devil's scar swaying in the wind.
the thing is— he's not sure he's found her.
"...Pandora?"
there's a figure kneeling in the shimmering life essence that runs through the shallow end of the scar, and they look up when he calls her name.
it's... a girl. someone he's never seen before, certainly, but a young girl. she looks exhausted as she slowly turns her gaze, dark circles under her eyes to rival even the dark crowns of the king himself. dark brown hair, shaved at the side, spills over her shoulder messily— her torn jacket revealing multiple dark wounds marring her skin. he nearly steps forward to offer a hand, but a high buzzing static pierces the air the moment he raises an arm.
he realizes, then, that he can feel it on his skin. the static shimmers and seeps into his nerves as it crawls down his back and up his legs, numbing every inch it touches and curling around his bones. unable to move, his eyes race across his line of sight to identify the source— glancing back and forth from the girl to the distant radio tower on the edge of the woods. they seem to exacerbate each other.
the girl slowly begins to stand, blood-soaked from the thigh down. it stains the edges of her skirt and the length of her long socks and the buzzing whir of radio static gets worse, but she doesn't seem to take notice, or if she does, it doesn't faze her. the same way it doesn't faze her when she blinks and her eyes open again and white scleras are replaced with a black so deep he's not entirely sure there's anything inside her sockets.
she begins to approach him, but the way she moves is staggered. obviously injured, but she doesn't give to the way her body bends— that is until wet boots slip against the fleshrock outlining the devil's scar. her leg slides too far and she falls without the slightest change of expression, not even when one of the protruding spikes of the scar impales her leg all the way through. she just slowly slides it back out and continues standing.
king has seen a lot of things in his lives. he values his experiences in the world no matter how difficult they might be or how frustrated they might make him— because in the end, he knows they will teach him lessons he could not have learned otherwise. it gives him leverage above others, knowledge and conquest are power and power is what he was born for. he's done things he will never be able to undo. he's seen things he will never be able to unsee.
as he stands there unmoving, paralyzed by the frequencies spilling from the radio towers and the cacophonies of sound that shudder him to his core, he wishes he had never stepped foot here.
it's not a feeling familiar to someone like him. he faces his trials head-on, as is befitting of someone of his honor and pride. he doesn't back down, he doesn't hide, and he sure as hell doesn't run. but looking at this shattered and haunted girl approaching him, he wants to turn around. he wants to run away. the sight of her fills him with an unknowable dread and something in his heart wrenches, all of the regrets he had from his past life and his current well up in his chest and throat and drown him. in the back of his mind and in the edges of his vision he sees pleading mercy and metal strings and muscle tissue and burning remains, the static surrounds and cores out everything. for a moment, the static is everything.
he can see her up close, now. there's black splattered against her face and in her stained hand, she's holding a monstrous still-beating heart. she stops a couple of feet away and looks him up and down like she's observing prey. at the sight of the one in her hand his heart begins to beat faster than he knew was possible, every single one of his senses is reeling and he just wants to get away—
she raises the beating heart to her mouth and slowly sinks her teeth in. sharp canines slice through the muscle and tissue with the ease of a blade, but her duller teeth can't quite manage to tear through yet. dark blood spurts from the arteries and it burns as it splatters against his face. he flinches and closes his eyes instinctively to protect them, it's the most he's been able to move since she first looked up and flight is beginning to flare up in his veins. the static gets louder and louder along with the tearing of muscle and the chewing of flesh, he's not sure what it'll do for the sound but he clenches his eyes tighter, tighter, tighter—
"go home, ████."
and when he opens his eyes, she's gone.