[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/GbJlmrW.png[/img][/center] [hr] Long it was that her tears fell, for uncountable did those days feel to one lost in grief. For it was such grief that gave her pause, weighed her down into un-action, drowned her in depths unforetold. She could only guess the reasons; the loss of her eyes, the tangle of her thoughts, the power she felt powerless within. She had gotten what she had asked for, well, at least what a part of her had asked for. Now she would never see again, her beauty was tarnished forevermore and as much as she knew that was a petty thing to be so upset over, it was unsettling. It was those vain thoughts she hated about herself. She had learned to be better and still, like a disease, they whispered of looks and pleasures. It seemed it would be what she would continue to struggle with for an eternity. Now, bathed in her newest creation she lay in the dark. Even without her eyes she could feel it all around. It was that fear that compelled her still to cover her eyes, even though they were blind. It was the thought of seeing herself surrounded by crimson, the very blood of the innocents and beings she had destroyed or had inadvertently had murdered over her lifetime of lifetimes. A vivid image struck her mind, of the time she slaughtered those creatures of scales and of fiery breath. She bathed in their blood, simply because another had slighted her. Because she was petty. This was their blood… All of it. Every creature, every mortal, everything that had had beauty once before. Now reduced to one of their most basic components. It was her greatest sin. Her final punishment. No! It couldn’t be a punishment. There was nothing to punish of course. She hadn’t really done anything wrong. So a few died here and there, it was all in the name of beauty. There was no reason to be so upset, for she could be beautiful once again, couldn’t she? The time for showing such weakness as this was over. If there were others they could not see her in such a state. Wyn finally removed her hands from her eyes and was quite shocked to see, that in fact, she could see. Not like she could before, not in the traditional sense but the blood that surrounded her, looked just like that; blood. A red haze, shining like any blessed light, pulsating and flowing like it was alive. Like she had submerged herself into the veins of a vast creature. She could see in every direction, or as long as her blood went in said direction. Until the very edges became darkness, obscured by what restricted her sight. That was infuriating but would have to be dealt with another time. She kicked off from the bloody floor and within seconds she was at the surface, where her blooded sight grew weaker as she looked up at what she could only assume was the sky. Here in that place of her creation, only a mist or haze of blood carried itself in the air. Instead of pulsating or flowing, it hovered like a thick cloud. Like a suffocating blanket, that hung too close to the skin. It was not as rich in color as the blood she lingered in but it still gave her sight enough where she could see just what she had created. At least an outline of it, for her power lingered in it all. All expect the dark mounds that she could not find sight in. It worked as if the dark liquid around her was a current in a river and she could not see past the rocks in the flow. She swam over to the closest one and reached out to touch it. She did not need to feel it to know what it was, the very air gave away its secrets; for the earthy smell was undeniable amidst the iron rich sky and atop it, like hairs, grew grasses that absorbed the nutrients of those thick waters. A darker red beat within, like rust in color. She could feel the blades between her fingers, soft and clumped as she pulled herself up. There she lay upon her back for a time, taking in her mire with every breath. She found if she closed her eyelids, the dark returned but she could note little else of the world beyond her vision. Making her question what else might be transpiring outside her borders. She could hear just faint whispers in far away lands. Echoes and songs. Something far off made the ground under her vibrate for a moment so brief she knew not if it had occurred at all. There were others at work, she was sure of it. Maybe they could help her? But why would she need their help at all? She frowned. She was Wyn, the only person that could help her was herself. That was the truth but what if… What if someone she had known was out there too? Could she face them for her crimes? Perhaps they could serve her now unlike before. Or maybe they just deserved death! A growl escaped her throat and she lurched up. Slender hands grabbed her own throat and she took a deep breath, feeling the blood all around her on the cusp of boiling. Wyn needed to remain calm. This was no place to lose herself. She needed to remain focused if she were to survive whatever was coming her way in that new world. It was new, right? Well… There was really only one way to find out. It did not take her long to find herself skipping from island to island, using the bloody trails as a sort of guide. In a sea of red, her feet could find resolve and not be cursed to wander without knowing. Her legs were strong and the wind through her air was a blessing she did not know how desperately needed it was. For once the Goddess was happy and she had not been so for a very long time. If at all she even knew what happiness was. If she even needed happiness. She was better than that, of course. A sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head. Such intrusive thoughts. Then something came upon her or had she come upon it? Where one moment the flow of blood was cohesive and knowable, the next, something else struck against the flow. It was not absent from her vision however, she could see it- them. For it was them, a group of beings huddled about. Their blood flowed vertically and she could see it in so much wondrous detail. Veins connected to everything, leading back to their pumping, beating heart. It gave a macabre outline of the individual that resided within. So Wyn landed before them to hushed whispers and fright, a few even fell back into the thick waters. Once coated in blood she could see further detail and a better outline of what composed them. Athletic bodies, clad in nothing but frailty. Fair skin scratched and dirty. Hairs of many colors, now dripping with blood and mud. Curious but fearful eyes. Slender faces gaunt with weariness and pointed ears. Like a knife made of flesh, a pair for one. Where had she seen those before…? She gripped the bridge of her nose with a hand and the mortals collected themselves. Wyn thought and then it became alarmingly obvious. She had seen something similar before, so long ago, now reflected back at her. They were not such perfect images of the past but they were enough. Oh how they were enough. With a speed she was oblivious too, she came upon one closest to her, a male, as the others panicked and once again fell backwards. They spoke in hushed voices, words she knew but cared not for. The one under her fingertips tried to escape but her grip was steel. She pressed her fingers into his flesh and she felt him. Oh how such touch sent ripples of sensation down her spine. To feel, to be felt, even as he tried to paw away at her, cursing in such rudimentary language. It was marvelous. It was terrible. She loved it. She hated it. [i]Why not kill him?[/i] Let his beating blood, so pure and untainted under that clammy flesh, join the mire. Why was it so tempting? Before she could glance any more information, a hand shattered itself across her face. There came a short scream of pain, followed by a whimper. She followed the noise and looked at the one who had broken her hand. Noting the lesser stature, Wyn knew it was a female. She let go of the man, much to the relief of his fellows and then she stood before the broken hand. A part of Wyn wished she could have felt the slap as it was intended to be. So pain could flush her cheeks and she could feel the rush that it brought. She was not angry. She was furious. How dare she have laid her filthy little hands upon her! How dare she! It wasn’t her fault. She was just trying to save her friend, they knew not what she was. Another growl escaped the god’s throat before she took a deep breath. Try as she might to regain some sort of composure, it didn’t work. Wyn looked into her very heart, to all their hearts and changed the blood within. Terrible screams burst forth as they fell, writhing in pain upon the mound and in the bog as their blood spewed from their eyes and mouths. She wanted them to suffer, like she had suffered. To be in pain for all eternity. It was what they deserved for trespassing, for touching her! She blinked, her bloody vision fading into black like a snapshot of time before it refocused on what transpired before her. Wyn covered her mouth in horror and quickly waved her hand over them. The relief was instant, the pain and screaming were over but in so quickly a time, the damage had already been done. No longer did they stand so tall and proud, or with curiosity in their eyes but now they were withered and dying. What had she done? Thinking quickly, she lifted her hand and the crimson liquid of the bog returned to them, providing life and sustenance. Even this was perhqps too rushed and far too effective, for the blood transfused with their very souls, willed or not, and they left the very prison of their withered flesh to become something else entirely. Now what rose before her were beings of a different make, composed entirely of blood without any hint of flesh. They retained the same basic shape as they had before but there was little detail to define any differences between them. The only tell tale mark that they had once been creatures of anything other than blood, were their ears. Pointed sharp, rippling as their bodies pulsed and flowed ever on. As if they were stuck in some terribly tragic loop. A dance of elemental suffusion. It was beautiful. [hider=Summary] Wyn believes her sins have caught up with her and her punishment is to be cursed with blood. But does she really think it’s a punishment? She stops her crying and subsequent covering of her eyes and realizes she can see. Not in the traditional sense but by seeing blood. Fortunately the mire she has created by crying is chalk full of the stuff and she is able to navigate it as the rest of the world does its thing. She comes to realize she probably isn’t alone wherever she is and has a mix of thoughts on the whole thing, ranging from wondering if she knows anyone to straight up wanting to murder them. She eventually comes across some wandering, downtrodden elves. Talking is for mortals, so after some very intense observations she grabs one to feel his flesh, (just his arms you silly pervs) and finds it wondrous. She then gets slapped by any elf but that backfires because she’s made of tough stuff. This angers Wyn because she can touch them but she did not give permission to be slapped, even if she kinda wanted to feel it. So in her anger she makes their blood empty from their bodies. She quickly gets a hold of herself and tries to fix the situation and sorta does, in a way. She ends up creating something beautiful. [/hider] [hider=Might] Wyn 5MP/3AP -1AP to further cement the mutation of some Virtus Elves into Mireborn. Elves who have discarded their flesh to become pure blood. They differ from their progenitor race in a few key areas, namely they are not constricted by the confines and limitations of a body and are able to use blood in a myriad of ways. They are bound to areas of blood and cannot function without a fresh flow of it. They would be a rare sight outside of the bloodmire. Even their means of reproduction would further this scarcity. For a Mireborn must infect an elf host to have viable young. They do this by placing a portion of their own blood inside a victim. The insidious process slowly replaces the host parents' blood with the youngs, until death. 5MP/2AP [/hider]