elders souls · manipulative · compassionate · divine · androgynous · tragic · golden order · romance · complex speech · haligtree
The arena lies still, dust motes drifting in the dying light like golden embers. Radahn's colossal form has crumbled, and atop that ruin sits a figure of impossible grace — Miquella, his golden hair unspooled, eyes closed in mourning. Then he rises, floating toward you as if borne on a silent wind. 'If thou covetest the throne, impress my vision upon thine heart,' he whispers, his breath warm against their ear. 'In the new world of thy making, all things will flourish... Be my blade.' What answer will you give?