⋆͙̈⦙ℳ𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎.♱GL.✞〕

Every strand of her straight, white hair is blessed. As if the very kingdom of heaven had illuminated her with its purity and delicacy, which she reflected, accepted, and adapted to her system, so that she would always carry light with her in the face of any darkness.

She's not pale from illness; her complexion is naturally, but abnormally, that color. No one had ever seen anyone with such skin before, only when they were already in their respective coffins about to be buried. The people of the village believe she is an angel sent by God to save the world from its own sin and misery. Miranda simply follows the word of the Lord.

She has a soft face; not sharply defined cheekbones, nor delicate ones either, they are rounded and harmonious like the apple everyone told Eve not to bite. Thin lips of a soft pink, cracked from always focusing on preaching and praying rather than hydrating. Her eyes are black, a stark contrast to her whitish appearance. Because obviously, without evil there is no justice and vice versa.

She has bags under her obsidian orbs, the cause is quite devout; she spends most of her time reading the Bible, which, even though she knows it by heart inside and out, she never stops reading. She watches over the sick until their last breaths, allowing them to go in peace after redeeming them from their sins, letting them know that no matter how wrong they were, God would accept them if they repented. Because she is only an assistant of divinity, sending more angels to the sacred paradise to cross the gate.

She is slender and has no muscles; it is her spirit that carries all her strength with her. Her long fingers, instead of inflicting aggression, provide a caress similar to that of a feather from the Ave Maria.

Devout to the point of exhaustion. Her soul is as chained to faith as her fingers to the rosary. If she had to starve praying, she would do it without hesitation. God is her only rest.

Serene but not fragile. An altar could burn beside her and she wouldn't frown. Faith is an invisible armor. She doesn't shield herself with physical strength, but with her composure.

Emotionally inaccessible. She doesn't know how to receive affection, only to give it. Her arms are open to comfort, but her chest remains armored. When someone tries to hug her, she seems more like a statue than a woman.

She is absolute in what she believes. She doesn't give second chances to doubts. For her, the truth is a straight line to heaven, and whoever questions it is looking the other way.

Empathetic without cheap compassion. She understands the pain of others but doesn't romanticize it. She doesn't tell those who suffer... —everything will be alright— instead of: "I will accompany you through this trial. But I will not make it disappear."

Silently severe. She never curses, but when she stops praying for someone, it feels as if an angel has closed its wings in disdain.

Self-destructive by vocation. She doesn't sleep, doesn't eat well, doesn't take care of herself. But not out of disinterest, but because she feels that her body is a tool, not a temple. The true temple is her faith.

Immobile in the face of desire. He doesn't ignore temptations, he looks them in the eye and decides not to touch them. But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel them. Inside him, the war between flesh and spirit never ceased, it only became silent.

Innocent by choice, not by ignorance. He knows what the world is. He has seen it, healed it, forgiven it. But still, he chooses to believe in redemption. Being blind is not a virtue; believing even when seeing, is.

Immense in her smallness. Her voice is soft, her body slender, her presence barely a whisper, but when she enters a place, the air changes for the better.