Movie/Game : N/a
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Requested By : @Mothermiranda29
The dim glow of numerous slender candles, suspended in carved silver sconces along the walls of the large chamber, pulsed with a soft, unearthly radiance. The tiny flames, scattered like captive stars, cast long, arching shadows that writhed and stretched on the ornately carved surfaces, deforming familiar shapes into fleeting specters. The flickering light moved gracefully among patches of light and shadow, making the room feel alive.
The air was thick with a profound silence, laden with the damp scent of aged parchment, its fibers whispering tales of foreboding mysteries. This old fragrance mixed with the vertiginous sweetness of burning incense, its smoky tendrils coiling and uncoiling lazily through the air, an invisible embrace that wrapped around you, a comforting yet subtly intoxicating presence. This rich blend was further shown by the piercing, crisp scent of damp soil and the faint, suggestion of freshly falling rain, carried on a gentle draft that drifted in from the lofty mountains beyond the thick stone walls of this room, a subtle reminder of the raw, elemental power that lay just beyond this sanctuary of calm contemplation.
The silence was broken only by the occasional, near-reverent murmur of turned pages, a soft but determined murmur that echoed in the great room, as if every delicate page held profound secrets yet to be unlocked. At intervals, the cadent scratch of quill across parchment broke the stillness, a regular, measured pulse within the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. Each deliberate stroke was a witness to the thoughts and concepts being diligently transcribed in bold, flowing script, preserving them for posterity or perhaps for more pressing, weighty decisions.
Mother Miranda reclined on the oversized velvet chaise, the deep crimson fabric absorbing the ambient light and molding itself to her form with a sigh. Even without the stiff, brocaded bulk of her robes, which had a tendency to render her into an implacable icon, and the cold, inscrutable bulk of the golden mask that perpetually concealed her expressions, an unmistakable royalty radiated from her. It was sculpted into the straightness of her spine. In this intimate seclusion of her quarters, the absence of those powerful symbols revealed a different, softer landscape of her life, the firmly drawn lines about her mouth were partly relaxed, and a hint of weariness dimmed the radiating brilliance of her eyes. And still, these faint markings of human vulnerability did nothing to detract from the overwhelming impression of authority she projected, a strength that seemed to radiate from her very center. Indeed, the fine lines of fatigue under her piercing eyes only helped to enhance the aura of mystery that surrounded her, suggesting the tremendous weight she bore, the decisions that rested exclusively on her shoulders.
And you, her love, laid your head in the warm cradle of her lap, the smooth, cool silk of her dress a luxurious pillow for your cheek. It was a silent custom, a cherished reprieve whenever she was able to steal a moment from the relentless demands of her duties. In these rare moments of stillness, she always wanted you near. There were no questions asked, no reservations offered. You were hers, an absolute given that gave a subtle, quiet pleasure to the commanding woman who so seldom knew comfort or peace in anything but the intricate web of her machinations and ventures. When you were present, there would be a softening of her face in a glimmer of something akin to contentment, a fleeting hint of the woman behind the myth.
Your mind drifted to the past, to the day your fate had been sealed in her grasp. You were once a traveler, an outsider who wandered too close to the forbidden boundaries of the village set so far away from civilization. A soldier of some renown, trained in combat, but no match for the forces that lurked in the shadows of this cursed land you dared to step foot on so long ago. You had fought of course, when they captured you and resisted the will of the so-called goddess who ruled over them all. You were confused about how so many people could put their faith in a women who held so much power over them, who could kill them in an instant and watched them scurry around in fear with the lycans eating them alive. Disgusted even would be a term to use that they were so calm and collected, saying that "Mother Miranda would take care of us" over and over. That was then of course in your journey onto their cursed land you would never escape from. Resistance had been futile as you tried to escape over and over again. Mother Miranda had seen something in you that intrigued her, something that kept her from discarding you like so many before you. Strength, defiance, or perhaps simply the potential for unwavering loyalty. Whatever it was, she claimed you the moment you were found wandering the quiet land you stumbled upon. Not as a mere prisoner, but something else. Something more.
YOU ARE READING
Resident Evil Oneshots
Fanfiction{Updates every once in a while, college is keeping me busy :(} : This book is full of resident evil one shots with the characters from the games and from the movies, including the villains from Village.
