🪶 ⚓ :-)
HEADCANON QUESTIONS / ( Accepting ! )
[ 🪶 — how do they laugh ? ]
in life, Miriam's laughter could best be described as warm, bubbly; cheek dimples radiant on plush, blushing cheeks. In her best moments, she practically burst out with laughter, like the rays of sun peeking out from clouded skies it often brightened the room she stood in.
For some time in her undeath, her laughter became withered. Near-emotionless. There was no heart, no warm; it grew sadistic, once full cheeks bordering on gaunt and hollow as if starved before her demise. It became sharp, bitter. Soft noises easily hidden by the simplest, gentlest of sounds.
Now, there's a glimmer of what once was whole. The flower cannot unwither. Snow remains despite the sun's light shining beyond white clouds, but winter's bite has settled. To get her to laugh is still quite a task, but not near-impossible as it has previously been. Neutral expression lightens. The corner of painted lips twitch upwards, once prominent dimples only observable to the sharpest of gazes. Sadistic tones have dullen, more akin to playful meanness. It cannot be what it had been, an age ago, but what matters is that she laughs at all.
[ ⚓ — ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ? ]
It used to be Lorderon. It used to be Elwynn Forest. It used to be Stormwind. It was, for a time, Dalaran. It used to mean so much, from places, to those whose souls have left her alone, through no fault of their own.
But home— her home— had always been her brother. It used to be alongside Varian, and Anduin, and Jaina, and so many more. When she lost Arthur, everything she thought she knew about 'home' came crashing down. Her family's manor was just that; a manor. Stormwind keep was just a Keep. Another castle. Buildings, places, people— at some point, the definition of home left Mary. It, too, left her behind.
She still struggles to put a meaning on 'home' beyond 'a place where one rests'. Since reuniting with her brother, she's found a place; not a home, not quite, but it's something. The more people who come to visit her whilst injured, however, the further clarity she's provided.
'Home'; it has always been with those she cares for. Forever and always. In death and undeath. She can't regain the homes she's lost, but she can start anew; start anew she has, but it is slow. Sluggish. Leave a light on for her, please, so that she knows that the door is always open.