thyunalloyed - Tumblr blog

[thyunalloyed]

@apexulansis - on love.

❝ BECAUSE YOU ARE FASCINATING, and ne'er have I seen a creature such as you. Like a beast upon two legs. ❞

Tigras. Beasts with orange pelts and white bellies from the Land of Reeds. Tigers, in the common language. This one bears teeth to match, yet his fur is whiter than Miquella's own vestments.

No, not to match, Miquella thinks, But to exceed. Whatever this stranger is, the Empyrean is alight with questions whitherward.

❝ You are so tall. From where do you hail? Have you kin? Do you come somewhither far away? ❞

The cricket creaks its song in Miquella's pale hands. He closes his fingers around it, like a cage of porcelain, and moves to stand. Tall. More prominent than one would expect. His legs wish to move forward - Miquella forbids it. Let any embrace of his invitation be upon the creature's own will.

❝ Let's meet as wise men, and share as wise men do. ❞

[thyunalloyed]

❝ THOU ART A SICK and ugly wretch. You poison MY consort. You tint this world into a sinful hue. Rebellion is the only expected outcome in the face of your foul ambition. ❞

'Tis the first, yet shall not be the last that Miquella has audience with the thing that calls itself Hermaeus Mora. The keeper of knowledge, who has access to the hidden places, who also sees among those who are hidden. Miquella's eyes have beheld the Elden Scroll. He knows of this fiend and its desires. Everything there might be is beheld in its cephalopodic gaze.

Suddenly and despite himself, Miquella feels quite meagre. Ten digits tent and he rolls his jaw in the socket. White and green meld together as his light and its umbra meld. The sight is terrifying. The only certainty held in the face of the Jealous Pupil is that for all of Miquella's wisdom and genius, he is small compared to it.

There is no fear. There cannot be. He has done away with fear. I am not afraid, he thinks.

❝ Vile creature. My needles will blind your eyes, each and every one. ❞

“&– - Your rebellion is noted, and the consequences take shape. You will pay for the damage that has been wrought on my realm.” // @thyunalloyed liked for a dialogue starter

[thyunalloyed]

i simply think the ground war against miquella's armies that he's leading to enact the age of compassion with would be cool as hell.

[thyunalloyed]

How does Miquella feel about Godwyn's fate?

bad. lmao.

i have a lot of feelings about godwyn's death and the things it represents ( many of which tie in to my interpretations of the erdtree dynasty as a more-than-accurate representation of a broken and dysfunctional family ) but simply: miquella views godwyn's death as an unnatural and sick act, one that he cannot comprehend the reasons behind.

that nascence miquella suffers from affects his worldview too, and gives him a childish mentality of the fate godwyn suffered and in addition the observable things it did to his family. there's a childish desire to "fix" the trauma that godwyn's death caused and a desire to undo or somehow alleviate that suffering -- we see this with how one of his motives is to grant godwyn "true death," or otherwise undo that and grant his brother life again.

it's my interpretation that miquella sees godwyn's death in the same way a younger brother would see the traumatic death of an elder sibling -- confusion. he doesn't really get how to process it, he doesn't get the finality of what happened to godwyn, he doesn't get why it's impossible to just undo or fix the situation. but he does see the pain it's caused his family, he does see how it was one of the factors that caused the shattering. one of the factors that tore his family apart.

it needs to be fixed. needs to be alleviated. this pain can't go on.

[thyunalloyed]

^ actively offended by foul smells.

[thyunalloyed]

𝓢EVEN DEADLY SINS. [ . . . ] bold for what applies, italicize for what sometimes applies, strike through for what never applies.

𝓛UST. desire for connection. pursuit of pleasure. emotional intelligence. obsessive. lovesick. one-night stands. seductive encounter. flirtatious conversation. erotic party. seductive attire. revealing clothing. passionate gaze. provocative makeup. sensual expressions. suggestive gestures. flirtatious smiles. lingerie. love letters. perfumes. provocative behaviour. love poems. erotic art.

𝓖LUTTONY. indulgence in experiences. savouring moments. hospitality. generosity. hedonism. culinary expertise. wine-tasting. excessive snacking. overloaded plates. excessive portions. bloated stomachs. messy eating. greasy fingers. full tables. indulgent spreads. overflowing cups. satisfied expressions. wine bottles. just can't get enough. fast food wrappers.

𝓔NVY. motivation. competitive spirit. strategic planning. observational skills. bitter rivalry. contest. envious gossip. resentment-filled argument. social media jealousy. furrowed brows. clenched jaws. side-eye looks. pursed lips. tense posture. whispering behind backs. crossed arms. gossip magazines. keeping up with the joneses. the grass is always greener. feeling inadequate.

𝓖REED. resourcefulness. entrepreneurial spirit. negotiation. materialistic. aggressive investment. lavish spending spree. resource-hoarding. get-rich-quick schemes. auction-bidding war. property acquisition. piles of money. overflowing wallets. luxury items. locked safes. penny-pinching. rare collectibles. selfishness. unwillingness to share.

𝓢LOTH. calmness. stress management. nonchalance. relaxation techniques. lethargic. apathetic. inactive. lazy weekend. binge-watching marathon. neglected chores. skipped workout. long nap. lounging on the couch. missed deadlines. unkempt appearance. messy hair. pajamas. blankets. slippers. procrastination station. self-care routines.

𝓟RIDE. confidence. self-assurance. self-respect. dignity. public speaking. self-promotion. arrogant. conceited. egotistical. self-important. vain. boastful speech. puffed chest. raised chin. smug smiles. spotlight. tooting your own horn. showing off. refusing to admit mistakes. feeling entitled. personal branding. leadership development.

𝓦RATH. assertiveness. decisiveness. strength. intensity. boundary setting. courage. indignant. heated arguments. road rage incident. physical altercation. angry outburst. clenched fists. glaring eyes. tense muscles. raised voices. reddened faces. aggressive gestures. stormy demeanour. intense frowns. destructive actions. broken objects. punching bag. out for blood. fists. simmering anger.

Tagged by: @skxrbrand! ty! Tagging: any of my moots who haven't! specifically uhh @recitedemise, @tidesfate, @vehxmence (for sarah!), @smilingmxsk, @dreadgloom and @bendwill if you haven't :]

[thyunalloyed]

Here's my love, abandoned.

[thyunalloyed]

this works against miquella unironically. like he has a weakness and it is this.

[thyunalloyed]

❛ i am the chosen, not you. ❜ - Skarb

🇸​🇭​🇦​🇩​🇴​🇼​ 🇴​🇫​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇪​🇷​🇩​🇹​🇷​🇪​🇪​ 🇸​🇹​🇦​🇷​🇹​🇪​🇷​🇸 ​ - ACCEPTING.

❝ YOU'RE NOT ANYTHING. Thou canst not be anything but this. ❞ Miquella retorts. Not a single muscle twitches upon the statuesque face of the Empyrean - not a single one. There is a cold edge to his tone; it's shaped like a needle and its point is directed at the nearest crack in the armor he sees.

❝ Sickening icon of hate, you are not the chosen of anything at all. Your words reach the ears of no god. Thine boastful proclamations preach towards an empty sky. ❞ Ten fingers steeple, five more fold and point.

Miquella's skin is marble, carved out of a gold so pure it is transparent. It soaks his skin like molten metal.

❝ I instead offer you relief. A peaceful repose, a new order. One built on charity, and upheaves the vile commands writ by uncaring gods with no use for this place. One where you could define your own form. ❞

His eyes are shut, and they will not open. A circlet of rarefied light glitters, its refracted edges forming filligrees in the heat. Bereft of love. Bereft of doubt. Contented with purpose. Miquella extends a hand, and it frames itself with gold - a light of purity that offers itself up as a cloak to wear.

❝ It's got to be better than this. ❞

[thyunalloyed]

“What are dragons like where you come from?”

TERRIFYING. MAGNIFICENT. Worth coveting. There is a reason his brother sought detente with them. There is a reason that they are synonymous with the divine in Tamriel, too. Incandescent souls of inconceptual power. Names whose might rests in the name of the sound of the name.

Riddlesome! Miquella considers the question deeply before he speaks again.

❝ MINE BROTHER WAS BELOVED by many, ❞ Before he was murdered, he thinks spitefully, " and 'twas in his time that he forged bonds with a mighty archmage among dragonkind. He was called, Fortissax. When Godwyn did defeat Fortissax in battle, he spared his life. This act saw their kind inducted into mine mother's Golden Order. ❞

Queen Marika did not defy this celestial logic--she defined its shape.

❝ They were terrifying. The smallest among them had skulls the size of chariots, and their roars could force a man's ears to bleed. ❞ He makes claws with his hands, as though imitating the jaws of a massive serpent. ❝ The weakest among them wielded mine aunt's drycræft with their breath. They could bring an entire cavalry to heel. The mightiest... "

A distant smile. Miquella allows himself but a moment of succour for his quieted, dulled conceptions. No love remains, or what is there wears it like a cloak, distorting its shape, but something that might call itself the same arouses 'neath his bosom. He is snapped from revelrie by the hoot of an owl, and the weight of the scroll's knowledge in his mind. A thousand horrors, meted out by the hands of a warped infernum. The smell of sulfur greets his nose.

❝ Ah. They pale in their value to the bounty before us, mine promised. Upon a throne of ossuaries will we build a gate to the realm of the Aeydra themselves. ❞

[thyunalloyed]

can't stop thinking about how miquella invented the pulley crossbow. i bet he's just out here making contraptions left and right. anyway time for some asks.

[thyunalloyed]

Miquella the Kind...is a monster. Pure and radiant, he wields love to shrive clean the hearts of men. There is nothing more terrifying.

[thyunalloyed]

Reblog this if you’re okay with people sending unexpected IC asks to your muse at any time! No meme prompts needed!

[thyunalloyed]

genuinely there isn't a single day i don't think about the line, ' i abandon here my love. ' like holy shit. the way my stomach dropped the first time i read that. the realization that miquella is discarding things he never should have lost in the name of saving everyone, of making a new system free from the brutality of the old one, perpetuating a cycle he's a victim of in ways he can't possibly understand. man.

also new header! thank u @bendwill

[thyunalloyed]

allow me to slip into something a little more… comfortable *is enveloped in fog and disappears never to be seen or heard from again*

[thyunalloyed]

starter call! have some new followers so just going to put this here. capping around 5 in case i get that many for my sanity.

[thyunalloyed]

❛ the night is ever dark. i need the stars ... give me light. ❜

🇸​🇭​🇦​🇩​🇴​🇼​ 🇴​🇫​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇪​🇷​🇩​🇹​🇷​🇪​🇪​ 🇸​🇹��🇦​🇷​🇹​🇪​🇷​🇸 ​ - ACCEPTING.

❝ YOU HAVE LIVED IN DARKNESS for such time, poor creature. But look - the night is still alight with life. ❞

Miquella's white robe spills like a curtain from the steed upon which he rides, sidesaddle with his hands resting on his lap demurely. Tamriel is a place of beauty, splendor, and sin, each in equal measure. Glimmering auroras beat upon the planet from high in the stratosphere, the shimmering bodies of the divines represented in the dark curtain.

This night is vast and full of wonders! Let there be no mourning, no sorrowing; sorrowing is a thing that is swallowed up in love, and Miquella has long done away with trifles like that. And still, Miraak has asked a boon. Miquella grants it ; a murmuring incantation leaves him, following on its heels orbs of light like a crown of stars circling the Empyrean's head. Light. Blessed, pure light.

❝ Tell me of these stars, for they are unfamiliar to me. Please, ❞ Asks the Empyrean, waver of his voice melodic in its susurrance. These are alien constellations, a night sky that ne'er has he seen. ❝ Tell me of the constellations and the movements of the celestial bodies. Many earthly things might change in time, Miraak, but the stars are fixed and unmoving. ❞

A kindly hand brushes his sol aurum crown upon his head, the circlet of rareified light and quicksilver. Miquella thinks of his sinful, fallen world, and in him a resolve tightens against his diaphragm. The breath of his soul exhales as silvery mist in the cold.