𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉 || ♛

scythe

A warrior;
is what you may call her.

Eyes of mischief and authority.
The daughter of an heir.

Royalty, and nobility;
something she had, but lacked.
Humble, she remains.

Small and quick.
Flashes of purple, as she cuts the enemies down. She summons the dark being through her beloved scythe; everything but a frown.

She swings the weapon, as a mist surrounds.
A laughing fit, the girl threw, as she brings death to the fanged clowns.

The small girl would often dance and swing with the cursed scythe of her own. Like a dance partner in war-her voice, a giggling hushed tone.

She'd move with blissful turns
and swifts of grace.

She'd dance with the scythe,
even if danger was right on her face.

Dark ebony. The biggest of curved blades.
Accent of green. Ribbons and braids.

She was a leader. That was her name.
To never abandon one-that was her aim.

"Hurry and go, Mikaela."

The warrior had spoken that day.
And at once, she swung the blade. A blue blaze, directing a path for an enemy-made-ally.

Her weapon, of course, still in hand.
The scythe, always in hand.

For she was known as the scythe-wielder,
in this corrupted war land.