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001. NE'ER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET
( —These two people, things, or groups are so fundamentally different from one another that they will never be able to coexist or think alike. )
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"We meet at last, bounty hunter."
Myra had never been worried about the future. Maybe it was the clairvoyance of the abundant wisdom in her mind, but she had always given thought to this mere concept called time that would be encompassed in her large speck of a lifetime. She just had so much time. Even if she were to sit pointlessly for the next hundred or so years without restrictions, it would cost no less than another hundred. Time was a fickle thing for most but for the golden witch, it was her dynamism origin.
While descrying not moments ago, Myra had caught a Sight of her much-awaited visitor. Obviously, this one was human—a castaway human. Much like her, this one had an inflicting past and from the anger that coursed through him with every contraction of his fist over his rifle. The hunter's prosaic energy rolled off like pungent fumes; annoyed that he had been sent to this god forbidden cryptic planet for obtaining some warlock. He had to get his grammatical gender right, she decided.
Myra unknowingly smiled at his displeasure. Her eyes flit open from the Sight to greet her silent predator with the same glorious grin, tilting her head at his appearance. Even when he had shattered her door off the hinges she had not predicted this. Now, this was different.
Her hunter wore a bulky helmet, a scrappy patchwork armour and honed an assortment of weapons all over his body. A tattered brown cape floated a few feet above her floor, his filthy boots leaving footprints in their wake. She cast it a stern glare before studying his appearance further; quite the warrior, he was. Non-traditional, nondescript yet laconic. A very quiet soul.
"You," he said, his voice curt and mechanical. It sputtered out like a bad interference from her father's radio networks which she hated, masking the reality of his voice. "Myra of Iego."
"I don't respond to that designation," she said indifferently, walking beyond him in all nonchalance.
It was unnecessary and untrue—to be associated with this wretched planet was a sin to prophesy across the galaxy. She paid no regard to the hunter until she reclaimed the pendant that she had hid under a tile near her vanity room. She looped it around her fist with a relieved grin, turning to face the hunter again.
The friendly witch sensed his confusion. His hand flit from the aimed rifle to his tracking fob, she guessed, seeing the red, dazzling light blink rapidly. He looked at the metal box and at her.
