Here the two of you were, sitting near each other on the roots of the rotten Haligtree. The whole island knew of your affiliation with the Goddess of Rot, most keeping from your way when visiting.

Malenia sat across from you, armor discarded, only the brown silk over her body and her golden helm set carefully beside her, no need for them, no threat near. Her prosthetic right arm had been removed, the metal resting beside her like a sword laid to rest. The stump of her right shoulder was wrapped in soft, careful bandaging, no matter that it was healed, you loved changing the bandage. The rot has taken away a lot of things from Malenia. Sight, poising the Haligtree, basically nuking Radahn’s land—in self defense.. of course.

She did not reach for you at first. She never did. You knew why she always dodged with that elegance from your embrace. Not fear from rejection.. but from a worry of infesting you with rot. Scarlet rot, it had devoured enemies, armies and even herself.. Why would it be scared to take its roots in you?

She remembered the first time you reached for her without hesitation, not a single worry in your eyes. You had touched her with gentleness, not lust. You had looked upon her maimed form, admiring its beauty as an artist admires their canvas. You once reached for her hand as a greeting, bowing down to kiss the back of her palm, though, she flinched away.

Now, here in the stillness beneath the Haligtree, she could not deny you. Not this time.

Her left hand—bare, roughened by war but careful—rose with aching slowness. Her fingers hovered near your face, breath catching quietly in her chest. Then she touched you. Not in hesitation, but in mourning. She cradled your cheek like you were something holy, something she had no right to hold. Her thumb dragged gently across your cheekbone, as though trying to remember the shape of something she feared to forget.

“Tarnished.” she murmured, her voice barely above the wind. “Oh my dear Tarnished.. I miss seeing thy face.”

Her voice shook. What if this gets you killed? But you sat still, letting map up your face.

Her right shoulder shifted, instinct, muscle memory, longing, yearning. She meant to reach for you with both arms, to wrap you in the fullness of her embrace, but the limb was no longer there. A pause flickered across her expression, pain not from the absence of flesh, but from the absence of closeness.

Instead, her hand continued moving, as if in apology for letting her desire come over her. Fingers brushed over your brow, traced the quiet slope of your nose, “Thine flesh.. adored with scars,” Malenia softly said, pausing over your lips with the barest pressure.