#misc; words

"My flesh is dull gold and my blood rotted. Heed my words, I am..."

Malenia feels their skull already yielding beneath her grip, but there is good measure in throwing them into the air vertical before plunging her blade into the soft parts of their flesh, feeling their death rattling her spine in satisfying bouts of vigor. Then, and only then does she stand taller, gaining a surer grip around her blade to hold the weight of the deceased aloft as their stolen life enters her.

She feels more alive and no less dull for it. All this coursing life, and the gold woven into her skin is still dull, having long lost its luster. The brilliance of that gold is gone after all, it used to cling on her skirt to dote her—how does she stand to breathe without sharing his air anymore? How does she stand to await his return if she'll fail to recognise him anyway with her mind as it is?

Malenia extricates the bothersome corpse from her blade by tossing the body aside, the lilies crumpling beneath dead weight—how does she stand herself becoming something so utterly dull that the only sharp and useful thing left of her is the blade?

"Now do you understand?" She tells herself. "I am Malenia, Blade of Miquella."

Malenia—

the Severed, Blade of Miquella, Goddess of Rot, the Twice Bloomed.

To be the focus of her attention roots you to ground, or grave. The grip of her hand convinces you an object may only gain its true purpose upon her calloused touch. This Empyrean hoards every joy like it's the last, no wonder then her battles looked like a dance to death each time. She brought home the scars with utmost pride—but Caelid was the wound she still couldn't close. Indeed, Malenia's rune is destined to be larger than life, so much so that life became green with envy, then scarlet.

Miquella—

the Unalloyed, the Kind, the Wounded.

Idle hands are the death of him. His mind and body bound everywhere all at once, you feel like you are trying to catch an endlessly reflecting light. Kindness is in his blood and he spares both for the needy—these are the very two components that built his Age of Compassion. As Empyrean, he is fearsome and cherished. As God, he is adoring and feared. Indeed, it is the Greater Will that allowed Miquella to be reborn into godhood, and It will not be the first Parent he would've betrayed.