By the hands of the Gods, you have been plucked from your time and from your world, dropped into the box.
Only the box is a world of its own.
We are a mass crossover based on the concept of Pandora's Box. Characters from nearly any fandom can be played here. Because of the endless character possibilities, we are canon only here at Pandora. Take a peek at our rules and plot information before starting your new life in Pandora.
Misty always enjoyed venturing beyond the concrete and pollution of the cities and towns; nature was where she felt most at home. The fields here went on for miles, and she breathed in the fresh air with a smile. Even though spring still hadn’t shown her face yet, the witch was wearing a brown hat with a wide brim, a simple red dress shifting around her ankles as she walked with her basket. In it were a humdrum assortment of gardening tools; one of her favourite pastimes since getting here was to care for the wild plants – some of them were so neglected, it was a damn shame others didn’t appreciate God’s gifts.
She had seen the white creature from afar – struggling to breathe, a red gash on its side. When it was well, it looked like it would be proud animal, so to see it like this made Misty both sad and angry. She wished she could have caught who’d done this, but right now, tending to it was the most important thing.
“There, now,” Misty softly greeted the animal, which huffed and tried in vain to move away from her. “No, no, don’t move, you’ll make it worse.” She stroked the top of its head, not at all bothered that it might hurt her. Her hands slowly moved to around the wound, and the creature stiffened, but relaxed as the witch worked her magic.
The creature was beautiful. Xingchen did not need the aid of his sight to know that, he could feel it as though there had been an immediate connection, as though his spiritual energy had been able to reach out and touch the creature the way that his hand did when he first discovered it. Her. He didn't know how or why he knew, but he did. And yet even then, there was no help he could give from right there as he felt about her silky white far and found the tell-tale sleekness of blood. Wounded. She was wounded, and he had known that from the start by her soft sounds of pain, her shallow breaths, blind gaze covered with a white cloth and unable to see, but actually finding the wound itself with his hands, feeling the sheer size of it, left him feeling like ...
No, he couldn't let the life leave her. A part of him thought he could hear her speaking with him, pleading with him, begging for him not go, and yet Xiao Xingchen did not know what else to do. "I will return. I promise you," he told her as he stood and turned to run in the other direction. He knew where his lonely cabin was in relation to it all for it was not the first time he had tread this path and it would surely not be the last either.
By the time he did, however, she was not alone anymore. He could still feel her presence, but as he drew closer, there was another. There were sounds, there was a voice, and Xingchen's pace slowed, a bucket of water clutched in his right hand, rags and a container with herbs in the other. Although he could not see, he was able to recognize her voice as a woman's, though not one he had ever seen before. He wanted to trust, but his first instinct was fear. Fear for the life of this creature, this stunning creature with her fur pristine as the white his robes were it not for the red that tarnished her. For reasons that he did not wholly understand, Xingchen had grown attached to her.
"What are you doing?" came the cultivator's quiet vice toward the woman's turned back, and although he did not sound outwardly hostile, there was an edge to it. Had he eyes to look upon her with, they would have narrowed a fraction, displayed suspicion. Or perhaps they would have been wide in his desperation, but all he had was the white cloth that covered where they were meant to be.