#scarletrotted

The more awake time was spent in contemplation, the swifter the veil of bewilderment dispersed. Upon rousing from slumber, the memories of his were bereft of familiarity and comprehension, yet eventually the events of the past reemerged, revealing faces long-forgotten. Amidst the ceaseless cacophony of whispers carried by the ghosts shuffling along the deserted streets, there was one the hunter could distinguish. A fiery woman and a skilled warrior, they met prior to catastrophic events that claimed the land completely. "She is confused and bewildered now, as she knew only her duty and followed orders of the Choir... I was once like this before." A scarcely audible voice described the red-haired female in front of him, devoid of resolve and fervor, now only guided by a sole want to locate a lost sibling, with whom they parted. How much did she remember? Was he recognized at all? In that dying world, mayhap he alone could recollect what transpired, whose mind was touched by the healing hand, granting clarity and purpose.

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●○○○ | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

In a habitual manner hands were placed across his chest, whilst the man wordlessly beheld the golden city from his vantage point. Since the moment dragons and men forged peace, the need to deploy draconian warriors diminished, save for occasional trips to quell the danger of wild beasts. Such utterly uncomfortable idleness wasn't known to common men, who eagerly celebrated the end of the war, those destined to fight would not find solace in peace. That sentiment found home within a soul of another warrior, cursed, but proud. An admiration and mutual respect soon bloomed between the two, yet there was no denial of a thread of melancholy, following her. Her status clashed with her peculiar circumstances, begetting resentment. " 'Tis a hefty burden placed upon her shoulders. And her merit and resolve will be tested." The presence of her brother was a soothing one, the knight could only hope his flame would not flicker...

Upon Shattering, the land transformed, bringing forth incomprehensible corruption, change and death. Where once was aureate glow, now stretched the pools of scarlet rot and deadly blossoms peppered its edges, as the vestiges of gold leisurely faded. There was no rest for the righteous. And the draconian anew was commanded to arise, to cull the corrupted, to cross the fog to the Lands Between, to stand before the Elden Ring. Thus his path eventually crossed with hers, stirring memories and awakening still slumbering consciousness. Her persona could scarcely be forgotten by the knight, an imprint on his soul was left ineradicable; immensely so that the madness she currently was engulfed in pained the man. "Time was not kind to you, old friend. Your sorrow, confusion and pain— my spear will end it all." The gloved hand tightened grip upon his weapon, a tarnished gaze was lifted at the female in front of him, as with deliberate and confident strides he was shortening the distance between them.

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

Signature weapon for this verse is the Burial Blade. And akin to his predecessor of wielding it, Vincent carries a lot of grief and rue towards the Hunters, cursed and destined to walk within the Hunter's Dream again and again to never be relieved from the duty of fighting the beasts. Originally, Vincent was the part of the Healing Church Hunters, tasked with covering up the plague outbreaks, discreetly eliminating the infected away from prying eyes, erasing any trace of potential negative symptoms of the blood administrations. Not unlike the type of missions Turks are given, which prompted me to contemplate in this direction.

The majority of his guilt also originated from the fact that he was amongst the Hunters who raided the Fishing Hamlet, but was never dispatched to remain there or assist Lady Maria. Probably for the best, as he was aware of the degree of unethical experiments the Church conducted, yet due to it being his duty he kept his concerns silent and never stepped out of his station. This is also where I want to draw the line of similarity to how the situation with Hojo's experiments occurred in canon material, as I plan to integrate what he went through in the game and draw parallels between these two source materials to include that.

After the disbandment of the Hunter's Workshop, Vincent joined Ludwig in suppressing the beast outbreak in Yharnam and this is also when he met Malenia for the first time. When one is a witness of constant death and misery, one stops paying attention to the faces of one's comrades, one learns to not get attached. However, something in how she fought and conducted self attracted his attention, thus many years later Vincent was capable to remember her, though retained this fact unvocalized. He also suspected her connection to the Choir, but never had a solid proof nor the desire to obtain one.

To mention this ask I once sent you, when the Choir and School of Mensis were established, Vincent was recruited to the latter as one of its "Hunters", oblivious at first that people he was tasked to deliver were not infected at all and were intended for research and experimentation. Upon realization and when he could no longer bear the burden of guilt, he approached the Vicar 'bout the matter, what resulted in violent confrontation. And not unlike one with Hojo, Vincent was gravely injured and became the subject for experiments on blood, that mainly involved organs transplantation and transformation. When the initial split of three affiliations happened and they openly regarded each other as rivals, Vincent still remained as captive, slumbering, barely alive and unconscious after all those severe experiments. At some point he awakened the first time and I do believe it would be thanks to Miquella and his cleansing influence (i still need to sniff all your headcanons), the fog was lifted from his mind enough to make an escape, this also happened before Old Yharnam was burnt to the ground.

BONUS:

Vincent totally would not connect dots between Miquella and Malenia at first, unless one of them mentions the other. This also makes me believe that for Vincent Miquella will resemble Aerith, so his requests would be fulfilled, like if he won't want to let Malenia know 'bout him or his fate. Also shamelessly stealing your idea, that prior to their parting, Miquella imparted some cryptic wisdom onto Vincent that he later realized was important after shit hit the fan. Regardless, he would be thankful and feel indebted for saving him from the laboratory and from being trapped in the nightmare as well. And if he would be unable to assist Miquella directly, he would aid Malenia, as it would be regarded as paying the debt to her brother as well.

🐝 cocktail quiz / @scarletrotted

[ sidecar ]  what type of person are they most likely drawn to?

ㅤ𝐒𝐡𝐞  𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞  𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨  𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬  𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝  𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫,  a  squalling  and  miserable  thing.  Pained  and  afflicted  from  the  moment  she’d  taken  her  first  breath.  Hers  is  a  life  meant  for  suffering,  so  ‘twas  ordained  ere  he’d  have  the  chance  to  hold  his  child.  Of  course  it  would  be  this  way.  For  but  a  brief  moment  had  he  known  joy  and  light  in  the  gloom  beneath  the  moon  only  to  be  thrust  back  to  a  ceaseless  procession  of  sorrow.  She  is  his  father’s  daughter  and  so  it  is  must  she  inherit  his  burden  as  well.  

ㅤWhen  he  holds  her,  they’d  swaddled  her  in  the  cloth  he’d  tenderly  stitched,  bent  over  thread  and  golden  needle  with  a  smile  he’d  not  allowed  himself  in  years.  

ㅤI’m  sorry,  he  would  whisper  against  her  crown,  wisps  of  soft  curls  bright  red  against  her  skin.  Her  father’s  daughter.

ㅤThough  even  in  that  had  he  been  proven  wrong.  

ㅤFor  where  she  continues  might  he  have  crumbled,  shattered  in  all  but  body.  He  moves  through  life  now  as  the  blackened  remnants  of  a  fire  doused,  the  color  of  ash  dulling  every  moment.  All  save  but  the  brief  reprieve  he  has  with  the  twins,  Malenia  and  her  brother,  bright  and  golden  as  tree  they’d  been  born  beneath.  He  looks  at  them  at  times  and  wonders  how  it  is  that  they  could  be  his.

ㅤOnly  in  the  bright  red  curls  and  in  her  suffering  is  he  ever  reassured.  Malenia’s  laughter  is  a  rare  thing,  far  more  precious  than  the  divine  amber  of  the  Erdtree,  far  more  warming  than  sunlight  through  the  golden  boughs.  

ㅤ“Father,  watch!”  She  grins  at  him  from  the  courtyards,  wooden  sword  in  hand,  bright  red  curls  caught  in  the  frenzy  of  a  wind.  What  she  doesn’t  know,  what  she’s  like  to  never  understand,  is  he  ever  watching.  From  childhood  to  their  separation,  to  his  imprisonment  when  he’d  turn  his  divine  gaze  to  the  distance  ‘til  at  last he’d  shut  his  eyes  to  it  all.  

ㅤ𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬,  the  sensation  of  wilted  husks  disgusting  beneath  bare  feet,  he  finds  the  last  remnants  of  his  daughter.  The  brown  and  twisted  bloom,  a  fetid  thing  in  a  chapel  of  rot.  He  imagines  himself  pressing  his  forehead  to  it,  feel  the  muck  of  it  against  skin  and  whisper  empty  apologies  to  a  child  he  fails.  There  is  no  red  or  suffering,  but  this  tombstone  is  all  he  needs  to  know  that  she’d  been  his  after  all.

ㅤHe  touches  the  decaying  petal  and  watches  silent  as  it  crumbles  to  dust.  

Honest thoughts || accepting.

“Hm. She does not trust me, I can tell.”

He pauses and then chuckles.

“Fair --- she should not.”

As for the obvious...

“The great Malenia; undefeated and stoic and oh-so tragically doomed to rot in life. She certainly commands admiration and fear...

He stares her down, unspeaking. Malenia’s words were sharp as knives upon his ears, not for the tone of voice but for the chill that it raked up through his flesh and bones. The Blade of Miquella the Unalloyed, cursed forevermore to carry the burden of the Scarlet Rot, a valkyrie of her own might and one of the few that could stand against him and fight him to a stalemate. Of course she would be the first contender to stand in his way, yet he could not understand why. 

All Radahn had his eyes on was the throne in the Golden Capital of Lyndell: “Step aside, Malenia, I do not wish to bring you harm.” His hands grip the hilts of his blades resting upon his hips still, tensed: all it would take is just a mere thought of his mind to bring them out in the blink of an eye. If she would not stand down, then… well, suppose there would only be one way for the two of them to go then. A shame, really, hopefully she would realize that he meant no harm to her or Miquella, but what is the price of kingship than a price matching the weight of the crown? 

three houses starters | ROTTED BLADE. (@scarletrotted)

“I am sure.” 

There’s no irony to Simon’s response, no sardonic twist to demean or question her intent. Malenia did not attack recklessly, she did not kill with no sense of self-preservation or the ritualistic wild abandon many of this day and age possessed. She also did not kill with no purpose in mind; she was widely referred to as The Blade of Miquella, after all. Fighting for family was probably one of the most respected reasons to do so. By and large, Malenia was widely faultless. 

And yet he held one thing against her. 

There was a striking flat affect that was evident in Malenia. Even considering the helm that hid most of her features, golden and embellished of course, she had little in the way of triumphant smiles in face of victories and sorrow when the losses settled in (and mount they would considering her swift advance across the Lands Between). Malenia was the Blade of Miquella, but who was she before that? Remove the armor, her blade, her loyalty to her brother and what did she have left? 

Perhaps the rot she was born with had taken more from her than anyone could have imagined. It wasn’t a feat that Malenia would not die, but rather a tragedy.