Miquella sat upon the step, gaze cast upward to the bright sky above. He held his four hands within his lap, as a gentle wind lightly ruffled his long blond hair. Miquella heard approaching footsteps and his gaze settled upon the Tarnished; the one who had helped him achieve his goal. "Welcometh. Cometh h're." Miquella held out one of his hands, which held an ethereal glow. He wore the most tender of smiles. "Joineth us. Holp us achieveth peace and spareth these lands of this t'rrible t'rment..."