Lord of Blood

"... I think... What makes it harder is... If it were anyone else. If it were anyone else, it would not have been quite so hard. But that it was Miquella - Kind, compassionate Miquella - who did that..."

Mohg sighed, running his hand along the top of his head, reaching back and trailing his fingers through the locks of red hair that grew between horns.

"I was a fool... Bewitched though I was, there was still some small hope within my heart. I know it was mine, for why else is the pain as great as it is? I had hoped that I was not exempt from his compassion, bloodied as my hands were... Such a fool I was."

"... You promised...

...

... You promised me... That you would make the world a gentler place...

...

... Miquella...

... Why do you abandon me...?"

"Gentler worlds are built upon the corpses of the undesirables... Remember that."

"... For once... Just for once...

... If my body is to be used... Let it be for love... Please...

... I'm tired of being used... I'm tired of being discarded...

... No more wounds... My heart cannot bear any more..."

... He wept... Great wings furling around himself.

... Miquella...

... Oh, Miquella...

He still saw his face. Pure and radiant. As clear as day.

... Somewhere, before Miquella's enchantment had taken root, he truly had hoped that he could have been worthy of Miquella's love... Steeped as he was in blood...

... But in the end, he'd been forsaken...

... It was a miracle that his discarded soul had found its way back to his body. Guided by a dying dream in one final act of atonement...

... But his heart still hurt... And though his soul has been reunited with his body, returned to the way as it once was, he would still bear the scar upon his heart.

... He wanted to believe that there could have been a place for him in Miquella's age of compassion. But in the end, in the eyes of Kindly Miquella, Mohg's worth was to only to serve as a vessel.

... That Miquella would go the length to erase everything about him. His horns. His wings. His claws, and his fangs... And mold him anew so that he would bear the image of Miquella's chosen consort, Radahn.

A terrible sob tore itself from his throat.

The fiery red hair that now flowed from his head would forever serve as a reminder of Mohg's worth in the eyes of Kindly Miquella.

That for his body, his worth was as no more than a vessel.

But for his soul, Miquella saw nothing.

The Lord of Blood exhaled a sigh most heavy.

Blood yet flowed from him, and his stomach churned...

... The Mother of Truth craves wounds. And he has bled most devotedly.

... How his heart ached.

He wondered what it was like...

The Lord of Blood ran his hand over the flat of his head, feeling the many creases from his horns.

Slowly his hand trailed down the right side of his face, tracing brow and cheekbone. Further down to his chin, and to the twisting cluster of horns.

What was it like to have hair...

Of all the things to be mulling over. There were far more important matters, but the Lord of Blood found himself musing over his own image.

He wondered what it was like to have hair...

Would it be soft? Would it be coarse? Would it be straight, or curly? Would he, too, have that same silvery color that Morgott had? Would he take after the Queen Marika and bear a head of gold -- mother forbid such a notion!

His hand moved now, carefully tracing over the rows of teeth and fangs... Moving up now to pinch the bridge of his nose... Running his fingers over the horn burried in his left eye.

What would he look like without all of that? What if he were to have taken after Morgott? What if he were... Human?

Fie, what an awful thought...!

Oh... Fie. It throbs once more.

The Lord of Blood rumbled, fingers running along the horn that curved into his left eye.

Be at ease, dear child... Pain is just a part of life...

Alive... You are alive...

The Lord of Blood exhaled.

Man, there's so many blogs out there that are mutuals only -- which, no shade! It's your blog. It just kinda... How to put it?

As someone who wants to branch out and interact with new peeps, it's kinda like breaking a bridge and leaving me to sort of try and find my own way around? I dunno.

Reblog if you're interested in interacting with Mohg!

Oh...

Oh, his head...

The Lord of Blood groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead.

His flesh was hot... His head was swimming...

"... Dearest Miquella... I must take my leave of you..."

...

"... Have no fear. I shall return in due time. To be at your side once more... But I must recover my strength... Patience... Patience... For I only have so much of my blood to give..."

...

"... Rest... Rest... My beloved... Soon... Very... Soon... The Mother of Truth will bless us with blood."

The Lord of Blood took the cold, withered hand into his own, trailing his tongue along the knuckles in a show of affection. Turning the hand and exposing the palm, Mohg nuzzled into the hand, purring as he manipulated the fingers, as if mimicking a feline seeking affection.

Bidding his slumbering Empyrean a gentle kiss, the Lord of Blood took his leave. Formless. Unseen. Traversing the bloody mire below the ruined palace, the birthplace of the coming dynasty.

He emerged from the red bogs, and took rest before a lone sapling of gold.