⁽𖤐⁾ THE MOST HOLY ANGEL.

to begin, misha had a very difficult childhood. he never knew his birth parents; he rarely thinks about them now, but as a child he wondered constantly, nearly to the point of obsession. misha has his theories of what happened: (1) they were sick with the plague, a common occurrence at the time (and even now), and ended up dying before he could retain memories of them; or (2) they were neglectful enough to abandon him, leaving him to the wolves. nonetheless, the child survived. misha was taken in by an orphanage representing the Church, but as soon as he was able to escape, he did. the conditions in there were far more brutal than the streets themselves. children were abused, malnourished, exploited. so he left; that was around the age of five or six.

his life in the streets were liberating, but a constant struggle. he lost a lot of weight during this time, having discovered that it is rather difficult for a child of his age to get enough food to keep his belly full. but the voices of angels she soon discovered, and they constantly spoke in support and aid. so to get by, he eventually resorted to thievery—stealing food, or even coin enough to get food. quickly, he learned that in order to survive out there, he had to make connections; numbers would make it easier to get food, shelter, and resources necessary for survival. misha never joined one of the many boy-gangs around, but he did meet a number of kids close to his age who were ready and willing to help, so long as he kept his promise to feed them. it was great for a while: just him and his friends— leif, tybalt, and abraham. things seemed on the up for quite a while. around this time is when misha receives his charm: it's a small puzzle held around a cord, enough to be shaped like a necklace. the merchant told him that it was a symbol of protection and good fortune. the only thing she's ever received for free. it delighted him so.

until. and there always is an until: once, the pack of friends pickpocketed a soldier. it was lief who did it, the youngest at 7 years, orchestrated by misha (now aged 9). a passerby caught lief, who was immediately punished: not just informal beatings, but a more formal means of cutting off his index finger. of course, misha remembers it all. the blood, the screaming. the remaining boys were so horrified that they couldn't speak. they tried nursing lief's wound in the proceeding weeks, but it was hard to keep it clean. eventually the remaining finger went septic, and lief died. the survivors were crushed. misha felt so disturbed that it was he who instructed lief to steal from the soldier, he vomited until his stomach had nothing left. their bonds became weaker as the memory of lief spiked, and eventually abraham and tybalt left her. she had never felt so alone before. she didn't comprehend why people would, after so much misery and pain and terror, simply pack up and abandon their friend.

years passed, but misha didn't forget. how could he forget it? lief's pale face, the shivering, the wound ripe and smelly with infection. and, of course, his cold body. she traveled for what seemed to be aeons, wandering to and fro in attempt to find better shelter, better resources. this is when he was picked up by a mercenary group: the route of westland, a predominantly-adult legion of bandits, murderers, and philanderers. choosing to live as a man, misha first picked up a sword with them. and thus began her honing her skills. she worked with lightweight blades, making her dexterous and quick. she learned to fight. she also learned to kill. it was hard at first, causing souls to be released into Heaven preemptively. the blood, the screams, and the way they toppled was far too similar to lief. but eventually her phobia began to fade. memories of her childhood became more abstract. she wasn't forgetting per se, but her mind was deciding it was about time to preoccupy itself with other things. recall became harder, and misha wasn't quite upset about that. he could rewrite himself to everyone, himself included.

when the company of the lion formed, her own band of mercenaries, she was hardened, mysterious, and as charismatic as a devil. she learned how to work people, dazzle them. most importantly, she learned how to outfight them and make them submit. at eighteen, the company was small but mighty; they'd take up jobs as they came, try to keep everyone fed. of course, when you're starting out for yourself, not many jobs are offered (and not many coin is granted). the band was constantly hungry. misha often sacrificed his own meals for the others, keeping them fed. she lost weight. her ribs and hipbones showed. she could barely sleep; it was maddening. she turned to one of few solutions she could think of.

that being selling her body. nobles would constantly admire her for her beauty; it was simple to pick one up. in exchange for bedding him, he would give her riches enough to supply the lions with food, better armor, and stronger weapons. she hated every moment of it, of course. constantly, she felt filthy, impure, wrong. this is when she started self-harming. she'd scratch herself until she bled; she'd flog herself with anything she could get her hands on. it was a way to disspell a lot of her pent-up emotions: she was doing everything she possibly could to keep her lions fed and safe. but they still suffered. they still died. in battle, from plague. more bodies in the pile of her own making. it was torment.

but she kept going. kept obsessing over her desire to build her own empire, an idyllic kingdom in which children won't suffer like she did. where they won't die or be abandoned or vomit from the sounds of their friend's screams clamoring in their mind. eventually, the lions became what they are today: enormous, ruthless, and prestigious. so many souls looking towards her to be guided, to be delivered. misha became larger than life. thus begins her story on this blog.

all that to say, the most prominent issue misha displays is an issue with abandonment. it's why she's so obsessive, so possessive, and why she doesn't take it lightly when someone that she considers hers deviates from her grand vision. one moment misha will adore the company; the next he'll (quietly) view them as pawns to a larger game. she's impulsive towards the object(s) of her obsession, constantly sacrificing her own wellbeing for their sake. pierce has been that object for some time, now, and never has she adored someone so intimately. when he tries to leave, she will never resent someone so violently. her distorted self-perception keeps her in a façade, this untouchable presence not like her true disposition. she's fragmented; she doesn't know who she is. she's constantly plagued with visions and voices of angels instructing her, guiding her hand. people worship the ground she walks on. it's hard to tell who and what she really is. it's hard to stay in her body, too, at times. she feels hollow, like something important is missing, but she doesn't quite know what. something so small, but so vital. like an organ, like an eye. and yet and yet and yet.

formally, she isn't diagnosed; it's not like psychiatry as we know it existed at the time. but i think BPD, schizoaffective disorder, & CPTSD are the closest that we'll get to what she lives with. mental illnesses are context-dependent though; they adapt and change with the times, with what society deems right/wrong, normal/abnormal. this is just the simplest way for me to put it, in a digestible way for people in our day and age to interpret. either way, take this with a grain of salt; it's easy to dismiss this (at the time) as afflictions of the spirit rather than the mind, all which misha also adheres to. she doesn't view herself as disordered, just different, with a corrupt spirit which is... not particularly far off, considering who she really is. regardless, misha lives with hallucinations, depersonalization, mood swings, manic depression, a distorted sense of self, severe abandonment/rejection sensitivity, hypersexuality, suicidality, and so much more that is common to these phenomena rooted in trauma. she would have taken her own life by now if she wasn't so obsessed with the concept of achieving her goals.