Due to the large lack of common sense, it seems many in the fandom enjoy infantalizing Ahsoka Tano as if she were a child or placing her on a pedestal to be protected or revered as some ideal female jedi icon. Firstly, any romance that’s developed on this blog in regards to Ahsoka is 1. likely between my close-knit friends and 2. Well AFTER season 3 max. (that it even needs to be clarified no one’s shipping ahsoka as a kid sweet jesus).
It’s fine to ship Anakin with Padme despite their age gap--but it becomes a HORROR when its Ahsoka and Rex or any other Clone for that matter. It’s fine when it’s Kenobi and Cody despite both the implication to an abuse of station, authority and bigger age gap, but its more DISGUSTING when it’s Ahsoka and just about anyone else. Let’s not even TOUCH the topic of clonescest and shipping actual children like OMEGA. Cuz its fine to imagine kids canoodling but heaven forbid Ahsoka as a grown woman in a relationship with Rex or fuckin’ Din Djarin or, hell, even Boba.
Ahsoka Tano is a wonderfully nuanced, flawed and headstrong female character. She’s made mistakes, she’s GROWN UP literally in the midst of a war and SURVIVED unspeakable tragedies. Why is it so hard to believe that if she’s involved with someone, clone or former friend, WHOMEVER really, it’s such a huge controversial issue? Let her love. Let her make mistakes again. Let her grow.
She’s not a child anymore and deadass, coming from a culture where girls started exploring sex at 15--there’s a lot that could be done and expressed but blessedly Ahsoka got a good head on her shoulders. Lets not pretend teenager’s aren’t curious and haven’t done shit on the sly--we all be slipping and doing things we weren’t supposed to as teenagers and ain’t no shame in that. Anakin had just barely turned 19 when he started canoodling Padme, and don’t give me the ‘she’s a child’ bullshit cuz Ahsoka’s matured faster than any average 16+ teenager we’ve seen in media.
Ya’ll are hypocrites. The most amusing kind of hypocrites that love to snicker and vague and talk shit about Ahsoka shippers while pretending ya’ll don’t have your less than reasonable and FREAKIER ships. Like Kenobi x Anakin or Luke x Leia, Omega x Hera and god knows whatever mesh of character’s ya’ll shove in a room together. It’s so funny how most of you insist on being so woke, and pretentious but believe any of us here on board should be violently hit or are referred to as mentally ill or needing death. Really woke and compassionate stuff guys.
If we don’t JUDGE ya’ll ships, then don’t mind ours. It’s easy enough to point the finger at someone and forget there’s three pointing back at ya’ll. So we’ll ship what we want, however we want without judgement and go back to our usual fun times. If you don’t like it, put on your big girl/boy panties and hit the unfollow and block. Easy peasy my dears.
Remember jesus loves you and he would’ve died for nothing if we didn’t sin a little bit a day.
❝ i don’t feel like a whole person without you anymore. i don’t fucking care if anyone else would say about that. you’re part of who i am now. the most important piece of me. ❞
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE YEARNING -- @hefalls
Lucifer was everything, beautiful and proud and radiant, oh so radiant that it hurt her eyes and heart to look upon him. He was the chosen favorite of the heavens, destined to watch over them all and man, perfected by their creator and borne to lead and rule.
She fought hard, aspired to be like him. He was the best of them all. How could she compare? It did not deter her, it strengthened her resolve. Her wish and will to be near him, and give him support.
He had laughed when they were younger, shoulders not yet wide and strong enough to endure the weight of heaven’s crown. She treasured that sound, held it like a cherished secret as she sought precious moments between lessons. The garden was their favorite place, where they’d speak of their dreams and ambitions.
Time is but a heartbeat, constant and quick, sweeping away each moment until he grew quieter and his gaze more severe. She fought and trained, and she saw less and less of the garden and his smile. Mikha’el gained her name from the whispers of flames and her gift to bend the light, her righteous spirit.
He called her name, and she reached for him until he caught her hands. Tension was high, the rift between man and divine had blurred. Chaos and disorder threatened the domain, and it terrified her. It hurt her. The creator was angry. War was imminent, and new laws were being forged into place. They could not be seen being so close.
❝ We can not be as we were. ❞
It was a warning. A pleading and prayer from her lips. Lucifer’s hold tightened, his gaze dark and foreboding, drawing her closer as his wings blanketed over them both.
❝ i don’t feel like a whole person without you anymore. i don’t fucking care if anyone else would say about that. you’re part of who i am now. the most important piece of me. ❞
His words were like an arrow through her heart. Fierce and swift, breaking through the wall she’d been building between them, only for him to tear it down. A cold chill shot down her spine, causing her feathers to bristle.❝ You can’t--You can’t choose me. ❞ Oh by the heaven’s and the cosmos, she could feel her eyes brim with tears. ❝ You will be punished for such words! Everything is being torn apart, we need you here to bring order--to restore and guide the lost--❞
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and though she wanted to push him away, her hands clung to his robes. His hands swept through her hair, framing her face as he kissed away her tears. It was like as if he were kissing away her growing sins, baptizing her anew--it only made her heart heavier.
❝ We will be punished-- ❞ The words leave her in a frightful whisper, and he hushes her with a reverent kiss as thunder rumbled overhead and clouds roiled with the beginning signs of roiling rage.
Moving out to the veranda, a delicate hand settled against the ivory balcony. The glass of wine she held earlier empty and catching at the moonlight rays from the faint drops remaining inside. Kaguya enjoyed the cool night’s breeze, not caring how it swept through her dark hair with intimate familiarity or swept over some of the more exposed areas of her gown.
She’d donned a golden gown with black and silver silken, elaborate patterns that flowed over her figure. One of her handmaiden’s had insisted she wore simpler jewelry, a thin bracelet dangling from her wrist, and more elaborate silver chain kept to hanging around her neck to draw attention to the v-cut hemline of her chest.
Behind her, she can hear the sound of the ballroom music and gossiping chatter, where no doubt many were slyly exchanging deals or plotting deaths--well, some more then others. Catching the sound of footsteps and the dolling scent of an overly-cologned man, who laughed boisterously and dared to sweep by her side. Face flushed by obvious alcohol, the man crooned, ❝ My dear, if you wanted a moment alone you could have simple said so.❞
She raised a fan, using it as a barrier between them and easily stepping back with a click of her heel. ❝ My lord, when a woman says she needs a moment of fresh air, that translates to her wishing to be alone. ❞ She turned her head slightly, hiding the roll of her eyes but thankfully she kept her smile in place, voice clipped. ❝ I’m sure there are many a young woman about that you may waltz into a stupor. ❞
Waving him off, she watched the man return inside and sighed, rubbing her forehead gently. She wanted to curse her luck this night, one of the attendee’s she’d been expecting did not appear and the information the item she’d hoped they carried--a tome, now lost if it was even successfully retrieved. Re-adjusting her shawl, she heard steps approaching her again and by the old gods-- ❝ My lord this is a final warning-- ❞ Dark eyes glinting, she turned and raised the glass of her half-finished wine. Whirling on her heel, dark waves swayed over the curve of her shoulder.
Wine splashed across the chest of King Alistair, and Kaguya clapped a hand over her mouth, her anger morphing into shock and embarrassed horror.
He didn’t really have a haunt now that he was back home. All of his old hangouts had been in the Outskirts, or at Willow’s, back when these streets had been his old stomping ground. Now Caden just kind of… lurked. Downtown’s bars were decent and there was something resembling a nightlife if you knew where to look. It just all felt so distant, like the memories he had here belonged to someone else, someone not around anymore to feel their warmth and familiarity.
In a lot of ways that was right on the money. Those memories, that person, they belonged to a version of Cade that he had to let die. Life made sure of that. The punches kept coming and, hit after hit, blow after blow, he’d had to shed the old skin and put on something new, tougher. He wasn’t who he used to be, and who he was now needed a new haunt.
Punching in the alarm code, Cade waited until the home security system blinked green before he opened the front door and locked it behind him. He was going to swing by the Blue Heron before dropping in on the nearby tattoo parlor, the next target in his crosshairs on this never ending job hunt. He’d gotten a callback from that auto detailing place, but Cade always had a Plan B. Always.
A puddle splashed beneath his boot as he stepped out of the squat building he now called home. As he started across the street to where his truck was parked, Cade’s brows furrowed when a familiar scent snuck into his lungs. He paused mid stride, nearly knocking into the umbrella doting pedestrian whose path he’d stopped in. An absent apology left his lips as he breathed through his nose, concentrating on that scent he’d recognize anywhere.
Gaze scanning the surrounding area, he peered up and down the street, searching the faces of passersby as he tried to locate the source. Following his nose set him on his original path, toward his truck and he immediately found who he’d been looking for the moment they stepped out from behind his C-10.
The smile that fought for control of his lips was one he barely managed to pin down. Caden wanted to grin and to laugh, to jog the distance still between them and take the younger male into his arms. Instead of doing any of that, he frowned a bit, brow furrowing as uncertainty gripped his heart in its fist.
Physically, Noah looked the same. His hair was longer, his form bulkier, and his eyes were harder than Caden remembered them being, but he looked mostly unchanged. Mentally, well, Cade could tell that the man standing across from him now wasn’t the kid he’d left behind fifty years ago. Not by a long shot. He could also tell that Noah was pissed.
“You attacked Max,” he stated in a level voice that didn’t do much to hide his anger.
Cade’s steps slowed as he neared his truck, his gaze not dropping from his baby brother’s for a second. Nodding curtly, he confirmed, “Yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
He stopped with several feet between them and it was a struggle to keep his hands at his sides. All he wanted was to take Noah into his arms and squeeze the living hell out of the kid. His punk brother was a man now, with an air of confidence that would’ve made their old man so goddamn proud. For a long moment all Cade could do was stare at him, then he remembered that Noah had asked him a question, and he had to shrug.
“He came at my beta, threatened her. I wasn’t going to let that go.”
A muscle feathered in Noah’s jaw. His dark gaze was hard and incredulous as he regarded Cade. “He’s your brother.”
“She’s my pack--”
“We were your pack!”
There was so much pain in that proclamation and Cade had to grit his teeth against it. He didn’t break Noah’s glare, didn’t flinch from the hurt hidden behind those rich brown pools. Slowly, Cade nodded in confirmation of both Noah’s point and whatever he was feeling in that moment. Both hands raised slowly, palms out, wordlessly conveying that he didn’t want to fight.
Remorseful and pensive, he stared pleadingly at his brother while prompting, “Come grab a beer with me, Noah. Please. Let’s talk.”
The scoff that left his brother was bitter, disbelieving. “Talk,” he repeated, shaking his head as he stared at Caden. “Fifty years later, you want to talk.”
“Yeah.” Cade answered truthfully, the only way he could. “I want to talk, Noah. I wanna explain, everything.” When it looked like Noah was going to tell him where to shove it, he spoke up before that caustic rejection could be spat at him. “Just give me an hour, Noah. Break bread with me. Have a drink. Just give me one hour, and then we can part ways if that’s what you want.” Though he hoped to a god he’d never believed in that it wasn’t and wouldn’t be by the time his hour was up.
Noah looked away, glaring up the sidewalk for a solid minute before he raked his hair away from his face with a curse. When he looked back at Cade it was with a sharp nod. He grabbed the handle to the passenger side door and let himself into the truck.
It was a quiet ride, the tension in the cab making it feel longer than it was. Cade didn’t try for small talk, just kept the stereo quiet and let Noah stew in his anger. There was no doubting that his brother was angry, the scent of it was sharp and thick like smoke. If Noah wanted to ask some questions, or vent some of his frustration, Cade would’ve rolled with the punches. But his brother was tight lipped the whole drive, so he didn’t push him.
Once they were parked they stepped out of the truck and walked together into the Blue Heron, finding a vacant booth in a quiet corner to settle into. A server stopped by to hand them menus, and took their drink orders before darting off again, promising to be back with their matching whiskeys in just a few minutes. The quiet persisted as they waited for their drinks.
It was only once they each had a glass of that chest warming amber liquid in front of them, and their server was off to do rounds again, that the silence was finally broken. By Noah, surprisingly, who was glowering across the table at Caden, looking half tempted to just get up and walk out without hearing a word of what he had to say.
“Alright,” he started gruffly. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
Caden pursed his lips then bit the inside of his cheek as his gaze dropped from Noah’s face to the glass in his hand. He twisted it on its octagonal corners, watching the whiskey within slosh around slowly. With a sigh through his nostrils, he fortified his resolve and met his baby brother’s glare again.
“I had to go, Noah. You know I had to.”
He shook his head, turning his glare out of the window beside them as his annoyance settled into his features. “No you didn’t, Cade,” he argued, turning his sharp gaze back onto him and burning him with its heat. “You could’ve thought about anyone but yourself for a fucking second. You could’ve stayed.”
Nostrils flared as Caden struggled to keep his own temper in check. Noah was hurt. He had every right to be, and he had every right to take it out on Caden now. He was allowed to be upset, but that didn’t make him right or make his accusations true.
“Is that what you think,” asked Cade, brow creased by his frown. “You think I left because I’m selfish, because I wasn’t thinking about the pack?”
“You got another explanation for me?”
He shrugged. “Me leaving was the best thing for the pack, Noah--”
“Bullshit.”
“It was,” Caden insisted. “I couldn’t follow Ben after what he did to our parents, and I wasn’t ever going to be down with the Accords. If I stayed I’d have either been killed or banished, and you’d be down a brother.”
Lunging forward with a snarl, Noah muttered through gnashed teeth, “I am down a brother. Fifty years, Caden. You were gone fifty fucking years, half my fucking life and all I had was Soren and Max.” He crossed his forearms on the table, his glare unmoving from their locked position with Cade’s. “He’s the one who stepped up when you left. He was there to pick up the pieces, cleaning up your mess, just like always. Max was here when we needed him, Caden. But where were you?”
He grit his teeth, reminding himself to keep his temper under control and keep his cool. When he took too long to answer Noah shook his head again, a look of disgust settling on his features. His top lip curled back and his glare could flay flesh from bone.
“Max was here, and you beat the shit out of him for it.”
“Okay,” Cade interjected, shaking his head impatiently. “I beat the shit out of him for coming at my beta. He earned that. He owned it. It’s over.”
“It’s bullshit. Your ‘beta’,” he repeated in a mocking tone that made Caden’s hackles rise. “He’s your family--”
“So is she. She’s my responsibility.”
“We were your responsibility, Caden!” His hand slapped down on the table and conversation around them died for a moment before the bar’s din picked back up. Noah was still glowering, his eyes still holding enough heat to set Caden on fire. His baby brother almost looked like he was going to lunge over the table and repay Cade for the damage done to Max’s face.
Instead his sneer deepend and he shook his head in bitter revulsion. “You had a pack. You had a family. You had a place. Why’d you want to replace us so badly?”
The anger fell away from Cade’s own expression in an instant. The fight left his shoulders and the heat fizzled out in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, the weight of everything he’d lost, of what he’d left behind, and all that he’d given up sat heavy on his shoulders. Holding Noah’s piercing glare, he answered, “I never wanted to replace you, Noah. I just… I couldn’t stay. I just couldn’t, okay? Not with Ben as Alpha Male, and not with the Accords hanging around our necks. If I stayed and challenged Ben for Alpha the pack would’ve put me down the second I tried to renege on that goddamn treaty.”
“So this all comes down to your pride, then?”
“Noah--”
“You kill the alpha, you become alpha - that’s our way. You couldn’t accept that so you left. That’s all I’m hearing from you, Cade, ‘I couldn’t,’ when the fact is that you wouldn’t. Because you were supposed to be Alpha after dad, and bending the knee to someone else was too big of a blow to your enormous fucking pride. Well, you know what?”
Noah shot out of his seat, pulled his wallet from his pocket, and picked out a few bills from the trifold. Tossing into onto the table, he glared down at Cade, seething, “I’ve got pride too, Caden. Too much of it to sit here and listen to your bullshit. If you see me around, do me a favor, stay the fuck away from me.”
“Noah--”
“Have a good night, Caden.”
His heart broke as he watched his brother storm out of the bar. Cade understood why Noah was mad at him. He didn’t fault him for all of that rage and hurt brewing just under the surface. He didn’t fault any of them. All Cade could hope for was that he’d be able to mend things between them now that he was back. With a little time he could set things right. They probably wouldn’t ever be like how they were before, but they were brothers. They’d always be brothers. They’d find a way back to each other. Cade knew because he wouldn’t stop trying until they did.
Eons ago, when the holy grail wars were of biblical nature, and the true grail would manifest itself to grant the wish of the winner--there was a guardian who oversaw the wars waged across oceans and continents alike. The first ruler; Mikha’el. They were called many things over the centuries; the keeper of the grail, the holiest of saints, and even, one who was like god, in accordance with their namesake.
Mikha’el was initially a tool created by the essence of what one defined as a true warrior and saintly ideal--a figure who would protect humanity in accordance with the will of their creator. Yet, through the passage of time, and wars--More and more would this angel ( another name given by humanity ) appear before the humans in their defense. They began to gather their own thoughts, becoming more sentient with each encounter and exposure to the various aspects of humanity.
They became regarded as the guardian of humanity, one who would side with man when beasts, demons and all other manner of beings would wage their wars against humanity. However, that did not mean that they would not also punish the humans who would corrupt themselves for the grails power, attempting to perverse its original abilities for selfish gains. Even then, Mikha’el would diligently follow the will of the grail, and reset the war through it.
While they would observe the battles and wars, they did not tolerate the sacrifices or involvement of the innocent. What became feared of Mikha’el was their power against the other beings that fought. Mikha’el knew how their powers worked, their strategies and limits--they understood the strength and weakness of each hero and beast summoned.
The ability that they would pass on to those that would qualify as Rulers--The innate knowledge of a Hero’s true name and power.
When humanity attempted to corrupt the grail once more, Mikha’el, at this point, had seen the consequences and failures, and more in such a heinous act. The omnipotent power was not something meant for mortal hands, and so the being took the grail, and drew it into themselves after the last war---They learned of the future, of the dangerous path where humanity would be extinguished, and so, the ancient being made their first and only wish.
In doing so “Mishil Faheem” was created and born. She appeared just to help fill in the gaps in candidates in Chaldea, and to no longer feel tied to her godfather’s family that had looked after her. Mishil committed herself to the training, however, would sleep-walk, and at times her consciousness would take a moment to fully return after trying the simulation of the spirit quantum dive--this is what would eventually lead into her first encounter’s with Mashu, Fou, and everyone else.
She had not expected herself to become the only candidate out of forty-eight, let alone Humanity’s only hope. The sudden expectation internally overwhelmed and frightened her, as this was never part of her original plan. She had wanted to help, certainly, but to become a beacon of hope? That was not something she was prepared for. It’s with trembling hands that she takes on the mantle and begins her battle against impossible odds for humanity.
Working alongside Mashu, Da Vinci, and Doctor Roman, and the other servants that assist her in overcoming the Singularities. Mishil focuses on bonding with each of her servants and has a natural charm to persuade allies to follow her lead to continue their adventures to save humanity.
Unbeknownst to her, Mishil continues her subconscious duties as a counter guardian and protector, born from the wish of the first Ruler.
--
After the first singularity, Mishil finds herself having strange dreams, fragments of strange visions that make no sense to her initially and leave her feeling disturbed. What she begins to realize is that the ‘memories’ she thought where her past are possibly fake or artificial. By the third singularity, Mishil has learned how to be adaptive and resourceful, having consistently trained with and occasionally against her servants. She prefers fighting alongside her warriors but learns when she must step behind to support via magecraft. It took grueling work, and experience--something she wanted ingrained into her every time she stepped into a simulation to be trained.
The nightmares get worse, and more terrorizing, at times even affecting her when she’s awake with sudden visions of multiple eyes, and eerie silhouettes of wings. This takes its toll on her personality, and the realization that everything she thought true about herself being a lie leaves her deeply troubled and lost. It’s thanks to her time with Mash, and alter-ego servants like Jeanne-alter, and other servants who weren’t meant to exist that she finds solace in their company. Even for how dangerous they are, Mishil can’t help resonating and admiring their desire to live no matter the pain--this helps push her on and smile. She will save humanity, no matter what.
Note: Servants with high clairvoyance or a strong connection to divinity may at times sense that Mishil is more then she seems. Though average and human, her adaptability and awareness at times keeps them curious of her path and if she really will accomplish her mission.
Second Sight - Those who’ve been touched by death, and have overcome it, are granted an ability; the ability to see as death would. One can see into the souls of another, mainly the dead that roam the world. In a sense, these individuals are considered as those who can walk ‘between’ the living and dead, as they can see both sides of the lens. Those with this ability are few, due to various circumstances regarding dying and remaining alive thereafter.
After a harrowing incident involving the death of her mother, Mishil awoke with a scar to her chest and in the care of her godfather and high ranking members of The Order. She learned that she can see things most individuals can’t, and after years of training and her own hardships and experiences, eventually Mishil comes to terms and understands her abilities.
She is able to talk to the dead just as she can see them, and from her training, even gains the ability to purify them. Depending how intelligent or ‘kept together’ the spirit is, Mishil can converse with them freely, other times if they manifest in more horrid shapes, she ( well after her initial adjustment phase and training) waves them off or taps a purification spell to them grumbling, “Away, your so jumbled up you don’t even make sense. Move on already.”
Spirits to Mishil are no different then the people she’s interacted with, so her attitude and response to them varies by interactions. That said, to those she’s crossed in her path that are suffering obvious torment, Mishil does try her best to resolve the situation (more then occasionally putting herself at risk). In the end, she wants the spirit to feel at peace and move on.
Her powers also extend to cursed individuals and demons, where she can see the color of their auras when she focuses, and see how deeply woven and intricate a curse is. This has actually helped her identify if a demon was formerly human, or if they are in fact, a human suffering a curse of some kind.
Due to her sight, Mishil shares a different perspective as a slayer compared to the more puritan sort that view all demons as evil creatures. She’s sympathetic, and tries to find the root of the problem-it takes longer, and endangers her depending if she’s fighting the individual. That being said, this has caused her to be underestimated or viewed as ‘naive’ when in truth, if driven enough, she will eliminate her target, more so if they endanger innocent lives.
Note; These abilities have taken her hard work and training and various experiences to develop. She’s had to endure much to get to where she is, both in power and strength and development.
Anima Anima Devil Fruit ; ( Paramecia-type ) A fruit that gives her animal attributes and lets her channel the abilities of beasts and animals of all kinds. She can enhance the abilities of the animals she mimics in proportion to her body, allowing her dramatic increase in strength and speed. Mishil also can communicate with animals and can override the natural predator/prey instinct found in most wild animals. She doesn’t talk like them (tho she could mimic certain sounds), but they understand her.
When using her abilities, her eyes melt to a red-orange hue, dark markings swirl over her skin. She can substitute her nails for razor sharp claws, has sharper canines that can lengthen at will, and slightly pointed ears.
To Mishil the devil fruit is a curse. In a time she’d already felt vulnerable, was being hunted and treated like an animal—she’d found this fruit. Starving and ignorant of what she had discovered, she ate the fruit and felt her body shift and change during the night. Between her mothers death mixed with the superstitions of her home and her altered features, she was quickly demonetized and seen as a bad omen (I’ll write another meta on that). Since being on the run, she’s had to master her new powers herself.
Misc hc’s:
-Mishil respects the boundaries of animals and usually doesn’t like interfering with their natural habitat and behavior. She does enjoy studying them and taking notes and has looked after injured ones in her travels that needed attention. She has observed that animals who are more bonded to her do pick up a higher level of intelligence (ex, her wolf), so she limits her exposure as much as she’s able to not taint their innocence.
-In spite of her connection to animals, Mishil couldn’t become vegan. With how her body burns out calories, and her raised body temperature, she needs meat. When she hunts, she refuses to rely on her abilities and instead opts to hunt more traditionally.
-She hates those who hunt animals for sport and not for necessity. Mishil respects and values the life she takes when she hunts her meal and if she’s hunted down a deer, she’d be sure to save its antlers, bones and hide for materials for herself to use. She also considers those who use poison to hunt cowards and vile.
Armament Haki; prior to eating a devil fruit, Mishil would often hunt with a bow (she was taught and trained briefly by her town smith) and learned how to use armament haki on her arrows. With her devil fruit powers, she uses armament haki on her claws and arms, to tear through hard surfaces or when fighting or as an extra defense when being struck.
Observation Haki / Sixth sense / Animal Intuition: Grants users a sixth sense of the world around them and limited precognitive abilities. Users of this Haki can sense people's presence, strength, emotions, and intentions. Due to her being more in the wilderness, Mishil developed a sharp and incredibly sensitive sense of touch. Her skin can even feel the small vibrations in the air. She incorporated this ability into her spatial awareness technique, where she can use her acute senses to locate her targeted prey. By using this ability, she can tell if anyone is looking at her, especially if they have any hostile intentions. She is also able to sense a person's malice and intent to kill even when they are outside her range of sight. Her sharp intuition is a reason she’s been able to avoid the navy unless she chooses to fight. She also uses these senses when firing her bow, which is how she’s able to shoot her target even if they are hidden in a forest.
Conqueror's / Emperor Haki; is a rare form of Haki that allows the user to exert their own willpower over others. It is said that whoever possesses this type of Haki has the qualities of a king. Mishil has initially had to endure what she calls the will of the Beasts, and has had to fight powerful beasts from various regions, most at times under human control or so mad by changes in their environment, Mishil felt overwhelmed. She has had to discipline her mind and train herself rigorously to not be overtaken by the will of the beasts. She unlocked her conqueror’s haki during a two week long battle against the ‘god’ worshipped in a mountain region, that later became her traveling companion. She ritually meditates to keep up with her focus and strengthen her own resolve.
Fighting style: Due to growing up in the mountains and surviving off the wilderness, Mishil adopted certain animal habits and incorporated it into her fighting styles. As a result, both her hand-to-hand combat style, archery and swordsmanship style are very reminiscent of animals and beasts. Her unnatural fighting style resembles that of a "four legged beast" due to how her attacks come from an extremely low angle while also being very ferocious and utilizing other unorthodox movements, thus making her very unpredictable and vicious.
Archery (Master): Her main style of fighting and combat of choice. Since she was eight, Mishil was taught how to use a bow and arrow to hunt for food in the mountains. She was taught by her village smith (including how to carve and fletch her arrows). Mishil’s trained dutifully and religiously for years with her bow, being dubbed a “Red Huntress” and other such names. At one point in her ventures, she even trained among the Amazonians. Her skills are such that even without her devil fruit abilities, proficiently with the bow and arrow she can fire more than what is naturally possible (ex; launch multiple arrows with one shot). She always strikes her intended target (Can miss targets with Supernatural Reflexes, Supernatural Agility or Absolute Agility.), regardless of the distance upon becoming a Master Archer after undergoing several trials (more to be explained in the 3 bows she has). She can reload the weapon rapidly and efficiently, even with heavy mechanisms like the crossbow.
Bows: Mishil keeps a recurve bow that she uses initially in her battles or when hunting, over the years she’s’ learned to carve new bows from strong sapling wood when she’s broken her them. She also has two other bows, one she uses when mildly serious and the other as an ultimate, last resort. Mishil can channel her anima-anima devil fruit abilities into her bows.
Sharanga - A bow Mishil uses as a last resort, one granted to her when she’d vanished for two years and underwent a mysterious trail to prove herself capable of using this bow. The myth surrounding this bow is that certain strength and character require this bow’s approval and surpassing the will of its previous masters. Its shots so powerful, it can cleave ships in half.
Khryselakatos - Artemis' golden bow and arrows, are named Khryselakatos, "of the Golden Shaft", and Iokheira "Showered by Arrows". It’s a bow she’d received upon nearly dying through a series of archery trials and discipline among beasts. She bears the marking of this bow on her back per the title of “Goddess of the Hunt”. With this bow, Mishil can fire off multiple arrows from one shot.
Techniques:
Red Sparrow shot - one arrow snaps into a dozen flaming arrows that fly around and homed in on the desired target, upon impact they would generally explode in a fiery ball.
Golden Eagle strike- a massive and piercing shot that blaze with the silhouette of an eagle, cutting through any barriers.
Sidewinder Strike -Delivers a powerful but inaccurate attack. Usually, a technique she uses to disarm or distract a target.
Blazing Hawk - Mishil hyperfocus's on her target with lethal precision, the increasing accuracy of her strike to pierce her target. It fires off with the silhouette of a flaming hawk, whizzing through obstacles to hit her target.
Swordsmanship; Mishil carries a wakizashi sword she keeps tied to her waist. While obviously not her hunting knife (used to skin animals and carving), this is something she uses at times in certain fights. She is not a Master swordsman, nor does she hold any interest in it, but she has enjoyed using this weapon in her fights with Shanks and Mihawk.
weaknesses; If Mishil were to invoke the will of the beasts, it can dangerously leave her crippled to the connection of all the beasts she’d ever encountered and senses within a 100 mile-radius. She must ultimately, find a way to purge herself of pure animalistic sensations and regain her humanity. The best way at times is to render her unconscious. And like anyone with enhanced senses, she has a limit to being exposed to poignant smells or extremely loud places ( think major city like NYC). Any place that can overwhelm any of her senses will distract / disturb her focus immediately. She prefers to avoid such busy places unless necessary. Mishil also suffers from peculiar luck, for in her travels she often comes across situations where, while she’d rather mind her business, is drawn to those needing help or in a crisis.
A spectre of Nihlus experience made Mishil feel a little twitchy. She knew beforehand that in working with Shepard, she would have to be careful when he was around. He was the more experienced spectre compared to Misty. His information network could also be different--but other then her unusual biotics, she was merely an informant and a mercenary with mutual interest to defeating Saren, and helping her comrade.
She frowned, looking over the encrypted files of Ceberus--all that remained since the mission requested by a now dead General Kahoku. The shadow-broker had manifested, or rather, one of their puppets, to retrieve this information. Mishil was more then happy to get a crack at it instead for Shepard--and genuinely wanted to know what was on the files. The experiments she’d seen, the labs... A chill raced down her spine.
Was that really Cerberus or an independent group separate from her superior’s intention? It made her stomach twist. The meal she’d picked out earlier still untouched beside her. Rubbing her forehead, she hoped to ease the migrane rising--from the memories she pushed away or the recent events, she couldn’t say. When the turian spectre manifested beside her, she jolted in her seat, having not sensed his presence.
❝ —-Jeez. You’ve got quiet steps-- ❞ She cleared her throat, ❝ Sorry, uh--kinda just waiting on the decryption software to do its part. Figured I’d grab a bite. ❞ If her stomach would settle.
