Resurrection isn't everything that it is rumored to be. The smell is terrible and unending and skin is nothing but a decaying and ugly parody of what it used to be. It is still rotting. If she raises her hands and scratches her skin the wrong way, it begins to peel and fall away in dreadful chunks that leave her wishing that she were still dead.

As though that isn't enough, her body doesn't work right, it doesn't function fully. It is slow and sluggish, she no longer has the lungs to do anything above a slow walk. Her legs are stiff and weak so she can't even do that. She can only stumble and drag herself forward. A joke of what movement should look like.

Reflexes are non-existent. A thing reserved only for the fully alive, not for abominations such as herself.

Magic is lost to her as well. But this doesn't surprise her, if she can't even walk right, how can she expect to use magic? Magic takes physical strength and a great mental capacity. She has neither.

In living, she had been rather sharp of mind. Since resurrection, she is lucky to get a correct sentence out of her mouth. She is lucky that her half-sister is willing to put up with it. For how long, she can't say.

The maggots are still there too, wriggling and squirming. They are the worst of it. They help her body to rot faster. Her nerves have not decayed quite so much, no, that would be a mercy. They are still very much in tact and fire jabs and stabs of pain heedlessly.

She can feel every wiggle and bite of the creatures as they duck in and out of the flesh that the feast upon.

They help her rot at a rate that is agonizingly slow.

Not that the pace matters, she knows that she will still be animated when there is no flesh left on her bones. That is the nature of the dark spell that has brought her back. Well-intending as Morgan had been, the girl took to using the necromancer's tongue.

Such resurrection has a single purpose; to create an undead army. An unkillable and unrelenting force. It never brings the dead fully back and so Morgause's whole existence is now a kaleidoscope of suffering and putrefaction.

Morgana says that she doesn't mind the sight nor the smell, but she keeps her distance and talks less and less the more skin that falls from Morgause's face.

She wants to find her grave again. It is where she is meant to be. But she is one of the unkillable now. Her end will only come with Morgana's demise and she can't bring herself to let that happen.

She supposes that she will just have to rot.

A deplorable, pitiful creature.