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Snow whirled around the Miqo'te woman as she glanced around to the wilderness before her, Coerthas, she'd come here to curb the urges. Ul'dah was much too crowded, and much too thrumming with life, life that she couldn't help but want to take. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't curb the hunger each time someone came near her, and try as she might nor could she keep herself from being brought into the city by sheer boredom. Her savior had her own important matters to attend to, matters she hadn't brought Pandora into for whatever reason and the young woman hadn't bothered to question her. Pandora never questioned her mistress, not out of fear but out of respect for the woman, and that was why she now stood in Coerthas and contemplated doing what she'd been planning.
She'd heard whispers as she always did, there were others artificially doing just what Pandora herself could do, they had even had the gall to name it after her it seemed. It displeased the occupants of her body to no end, to know their own ideas were being used and they were getting none of the nourishment from it. They prodded her, poked and cackled at her endlessly, until she couldn't sleep or stand it any more. They wanted her to kill these insolent mortals, they were not vessels as she was and they were not worthy of the secrets they possessed, their anger seeped into her very core which in turn caused her own rage to spike. How dare they usurp what was hers and make her suffering seem pointless, they did not suffer as she had, they had not paid their dues as she had and would. So she would make them pay what was owed.
Snow whipped her pigtailed hair into a frenzy as she made her way ever deeper into the blizzard, oil black eyes not bothering to watch her surroundings, even the wildlife avoided her like the plague that she could so easily be. Her boots crunched the snow under her heel and when she was close she pulled the furred collar of her jacket ever close to her neck with a small smile that stretched her face unnaturally. It was time for them to pay, and their guards would be the first, whether she spared any inside would remain to be seen. Her fingers fished an ashen mask from her inner pocket and fixed it securely over her face, her eyes only black holes behind the mask and her mouth a cruel Cheshire grin she'd painted there herself.
The mouth behind mirrored the smile painted, and her face ached with her own joy, so long she'd been held back and she was hungry. They thought they were creators of nightmares, but they only created shadows of the real nightmare and knew nothing of the true horror, she would show them exactly how feeble their machine was by comparison. She would rip their life away in shreds, let them wallow in their agony so she could relish it.
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