[INACTIVE] Ask / Art / RP Multimuse Blog for highly divergent characters. Read rules, please. No etwahl Sona. Human Orianna. Aviator Irelia. Others. 21+ writer. Originally 2014, reestablished 2021.
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Is she being heard? She isn't sure. Perhaps that bird made of starlight and hopes and dreams and wishes is listening, or perhaps it is talking past her. Orianna lets out a slow exhale - bordering between a sigh and a sound of exertion.
It is a long trek back to her home. An empty place. But a quiet place.
----
When Xayah is near awake, she is in a room. A quaint room, with a couch in it, upon which she has been lain. There is a sheet underneath her, and a tarp underneath that, to protect the upholstery. A blanket gingerly lies upon her. The room appears to be some sort of studio, with panels on the walls to help with acoustics. However, it lies barren of instruments, of recording devices, of anything resembling the art of creation.
The door is left slightly open, and there is a note on it. 'Exit ->' And if she follows that, more notes. Posted on the walls, telling her where the bathroom is, the front and back exit, the fridge with a once-fresh salad put together that is as old as her stay. She is being given hospitality, with one minor exception. There is a second story, and there is a chair before it, with a note. 'Don't.'
There are a few more things that are off. A house that is not quite furnished. Picture frames without pictures in them, but no extra holes in the walls where pictures once were. The signs of a place that wasn't moved out of, but instead hadn't yet been fully moved into. And its sole occupant, one Orianna Reveck, lives in it like a ghost.
The woman is positioned on a chair, slumped over it, a phone in one hand. She's sitting on it backwards, inelegantly, but has her other hand lightly wrapped around one end, as though she might lift it up as a weapon at any time. Her back is to the house, and she is facing the front door, as one might if they were on guard. If and when Xayah deigns to leave her temporary 'room', the mechanic's voice will call out without turning. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"
As if denying her words, the avian did not let go of her grip. Weak as it might be in account of the loss of blood. Orianna may be there for now. But how long? Her dazed mind crossed between her old team and her. It was a natural association that she made with Star Guardians, with people helping her, with anyone she crossed. The only person she had was herself to trust, and her body was failing. There was fear, yes. Fear. But a certain kind of sadness that stemmed from the sheer tragedy of such a thought. Of the grief and pain all bundled together as she bled out in a stranger’s arms. Forgotten. Left behind.
She twitched in pain. Orianna’s words stung. They stung. She had been forgotten already. Too busy to come back. What was once born out of love and companionship had turned into bitterness and hate. All the love that was was now rage, and all she could do was directed at the very same people that she had loved. They created her, a being made of rage and vengeance. Zoe exploits it, but she doesn’t care. There was little to care about these days other than giving a direction to that endless well of wrath.
Saki curled up to Xayah’s chest, nestling on it. “ Still here. “ She purred to Xayah, echoing what Orianna said if only to provide Xayah with some sort of comfort. Her answer seemed to be sufficient for now for the companion.
Xayah’s body has little strength to aid in the process of lifting and carrying, as her consciousness seems to be bordering on the line of barely holding on. Her arm that was previously clutching dangles from her side, while the other rests on her own body. Uncertain of the distance and now that the battle was long over, her mind seemed to slip into darkness somewhere in during the walk.
Saki remained attentive, but focused on Xayah.
“ You are not one of them? “ Saki cooed. “ Misty-eyed babies?” A couple head tilts. “You speak not the same. No. “ A couple of blinks. “You are not like her either.” Referring to Xayah. Simply observations in her speech. “Are you not afraid of us?” Her small frame seems to hop onto the embedded, darkened gem of Xayah. “Her claws are as sharp as her mouth. You know?”
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It's enough to break her heart. If she had one... If she still had one.
"I'm still here." At least, someone should be. As Xayah clutches at her clothes, Ori feels something swell in her dead heart. Something old and forgotten, like rusting gears. She hears the whispers still - foolishly sympathetic! - but she pushes those thoughts away. Pushes away the monster, the villain, the foretold apocalypse. One day, she will be the ruin of all things. But not yet. After all...
"I'm still here." She understands. No hospitals. Not always possible. There's a nod of her head. Xayah looks more and more like a wounded bird. Like her. And oh, how she hates mirrors, how she finds them disgusting, nauseating, mind-numbing... Where's Janna? Where's Sona? Where's Jinx? Why doesn't anyone talk to her? Why does everyone hide everything from her? Why does she always end up alone? Orianna closes her eyes, and a slow, mechanical, creaking breath escapes her - machine-like, fried, exhausted. She feels she's faced with a mirror. She knows the feeling of being forgotten. Of being a friend, abandoned. Of being nobody.
Because you are nobody. No one cares if you're not a machine, if you're not an apocalypse.
Orianna's expression returns to neutral soon after, as she mulls it over. And she isn't sure what to say. How to say it. It's made worse when Saki speaks to her, tries to glean into Orianna's true intentions.
"My true intention... Is that I find myself tired. Tired of seeing friends burn themselves out. And especially tired of knowing that heroism is conditional on love. When the world ends, will your friends be too busy? Will we still be saved? Will we be important enough to save, to care about, to not be forgotten?"
The voice in her head, the machine, hisses at her. You're saying too much. But she doesn't care much. Orianna is honest even when she shouldn't be, unfiltered, with emotions she can't comprehend. A liar that cannot lie.
"My back is already turned, Miss Bird. It is why I am here. Outsiders find outsiders, abandon outsiders, forget outsiders, and die as outsiders. But... if I may say this..."
"I'm still here." Orianna lifts Xayah, her body creaking, and begins the long trek home. It's empty now. An empty place. Sona won't come home, and Janna won't meet her eyes. So it will be fine. And... You idiot. You don't even know when you are, so why are you assuming?
Because the Sona she knows would have leapt into her arms in an instant. And the Janna she remembers would have patted her head. And she would not be so alone. Perhaps, she's been saying it to herself. Perhaps it's been more to herself this whole time. She doesn't know. She isn't sure. Orianna sighs as her body creaks, fighting against the exertion as she carries Xayah, one step at a time. And she says it again, to Xayah, to Saki, to herself.
"I'm still here."
Seas of distant memories flooded the avian’s vision , blurred and hazy ⸻ only the sting of a sharp pain against her wounds brought her back to sheepishly clutch at any fabric she could find on the other’s form . Perhaps as her only means to exert some sort of vague threat , but moreso as a means to get her to stay . Ahri flashed before her eyes , turning her back on her , and she clutched harder .
Don’t go .
Don’t leave .
Don’t you see I’m hurt ?
I’m still aliv ⸻
The sting of touch on open flesh pulled her out from her mind to look at the face now familiar of the stranger who had decided to help her out . Her heartbeat was quickening , breath unsteady . “ No. “ she muttered , then repeated louder . “ No hospital . They would all rather have me dead and mauled than help . “ She allowed her head to rest back on the tree trunk , a bit stronger than she had intended .
A small gust of dark purple energy manifested beside them , with a small hooting familiar to owls . Xayah’s companion fluttered close to the two figures , resting on Xayah’s lap , and staring directly at Orianna for a second , and tilting its head slightly . Saki began to speak in what , to regular beings not connected to the first star , would be complete gibberish .
“ She is one of them . “ A statement , a tilt of the head further and a small hoot again . “ Misty-eyed babies . “ The statement seemed to miss Xayah’s ears , although it might have been more accurate to say that she had little brain power to actually give a shit . “ And you are helping? “ Saki hopped closer to Orianna . “ Why? What do you want from us? “ Her eyes narrowed .
Xayah groaned , to which her companion reacted to by dropping her attention on the stranger and instead curling up to the fallen guardian . A faint glow of purple being poured onto her body that seemed to soothe and relax the avian’s muscles a slight bit .
“ Will you turn your back , too ? “ Saki quietly whispered .
“ Shut up , Saki . “ Xayah replied . " Shut up . "
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Ori calmly wipes the blood off her cheek, the spit and iron and hate. Ah, if only someone else were here. A real guardian. Not a monster, disguised in the flesh of a person. Not a nobody. If it were perhaps her or her or -
But the names do not reach her thoughts. They are but seafoam in her mind, and when she grasps for who might help, there is no one. No one she can remember. They have all gone away, and she has gone away as well. There is only her.
Only her and this bird woman, with her claws and her talons and her feathers and her so many sharp things. A monster just like you. Better than me, Ori thinks, though her expression does not shift. It rarely does. Her thoughts are churning, always, always, always, but only the faintest hint reaches her eyes, her voice, her being.
You're more dead than she is. At least, inside. Ori doesn't put much thought to that, ignoring the unpleasant mechanical whisper in her head as her eyes track the daggers thrown her way, and the snarling scowl. Ori does not flinch, she does not even move, and she knows that gives her away as a 'less than' and a 'more than' she appears. She has not prepared for a masquerade, and so she reacts without any reaction at all, the most damning thing she could do.
You see? Now she knows, and she will despise you, threaten you, chase you away. She will see you as a -
" Do it . "
You talk to much, she thinks to herself. She sits, calmly, and inspects the wounds one at a time. Arm. Side. Legs. Face. Bruising. First the side...
"This may sting." Ori's hands are firm as she grabs the antiseptic, the gauze, and so on. She has little in the way of healing, and so there will be scarring. Stitches perhaps. Hmm. She cleans the wound on the side first, wrapping it firmly over Xayah's outfit. It wasn't great work, but if she took off Xayah's top, she'd probably be stabbed. Troubling.
"Are you opposed to a hospital, Miss?" She's already on the arm, her hands moving quickly and gently, firm motions just slow enough to not further disturb the wounds and cause too much pain. She is experienced with this sort of thing. She's done it many times herself, in her own bedroom. In alleys. In dark places with no one around, just like this one. Ori's shoulders droop slightly and she lets out a heavy sigh, a sound she herself doesn't understand. It's good that she can be here. A little miracle, one that she herself did not receive.
The blood dripped steadily as they observed each other . A small back and forth on whether one ought to trust the other . Although the avian was hardly in any condition to bring a fight back . The main wounds were slashes to her left arm and side . Big , pulsing wounds of open flesh that dripped blood over the remains of her darker costume . They trailed down her skin , dropping and merging with the earth beneath . The more minor ones included a set of scratches to her legs and left side of her face , and the non-visible bruises under whatever remained of her scratched clothes on her back .
The Vastaya's eyes narrowed at the sight , a groan of both unamusement and pain . She was in no mood to be having to explain herself⸻ and more importantly . . . This was no ordinary person . Pauldrons as such . . . Were not quite so much as common in people . Right ? Her vision blurred with every few breaths , her right arm givng the slightest hint of a tremble as the feather daggers were pointed in the stranger's direction . Shit . She spat blood on the other's direction as a response to what seemed to her as a condescending tone to her threat .
Her talons scraped back against the soil , pushing her already scratched back further into the tree trunk behind as a response to the other crouching before her . Her golden hues desperately attempting to figure it out . To sort this out . Not one soul in this wretched planet does things selflessly , and for someone who had already died , already been betrayed , left alone . . . There was hardly anything else to offer . Hardly anything but rage . Anything but the pure seething flame of watching the world burn . No , a kind offering from a stranger was not something that fit in her vocabulary .
Naturally , there was hesitation .
A few seconds turned into a few minutes, and a look of pure venom was shot at the stranger . Helpless . Again . Again . Xayah's breath shook , deepened , and heaved . The talons would scrape against the earth beneath , tainted with her blood . She gulped , sweat dripping from her head . Her eyes seemed to have been lost in the distance behind Orianna . Beyond her . And for a brief moment⸻ A scent . Her eyes shot a venomous look .
Ahri .
Her fangs bared . Her eyes closed . She hardly had the concentration to , but she was lucid enough to know it was a trick of her mind . She had left her . She was not here , the fox would never be here . Not in a moment like this . Especially not in a moment like this . With every last bit of strength , a swing of her hand had the daggers flying straight for Orianna's neck. Until the last moment , that is , when they magically seemed to have curved their path and instead dug into the soil behind the stranger .
She opened one of her eyes only to see the woman laugh and stop abruptly . ' Broken ' is what her mind replied , but did not escape her lips . There was something offputting about her .
" One . . . " She paused for a second , then resumed , " One wrong move , and those daggers behind you pierce you through your chest . " She groaned , her hand finally settling to her side in exhaustion . She turned her head to the side , if only to hide her unsteady breath , if only to close her eyes and let whatever this was happen without the embarrassment of acknowledging it . " Do it . "
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Just as I warned us. Villain, not hero. Ori tilts her head to the side, as if both to empty out water from her ear and to express confusion. There is blood. A lot of it. Why does she find carnage so beautiful? The way scars line each person's life with ethereal tremors of -
Stop waxing poetic and just kill her! The woman looks down at the bird before her. She steps closer, then closer still, one step, two steps, until she's within stabbing range.
"Why four pieces? One would be sufficient to end my life." She lifts her neck, revealing the lack of protective gear. It is only in the pauldrons that look like hands grabbing her shoulders, tight around her as if to hold Ori in place, that there is a hint that she is more than an overly concerned traveler.
"You may make attempts upon my life once you are well enough to do so," she states, as she crouches before the wounded bird. She ignores the screaming voice in her head that tells her that if she wishes to die so quickly, she should end it faster and resign herself to a proper fate. Orianna Reveck is not a quitter.
And she is not a woman who leaves the injured, downtrodden, or in need behind either. Even if they will stab her with knives or take all that is hers later. Naive? No. She is not naive or innocent. She is aware of the consequences. And what does that make you, who doesn't care? Ori tilts her head again as she reaches into her pack and pulls out a first aid kit, sliding it forward.
"Will you permit my help, Miss?" If Xayah will put down her pride long enough to be helped, then Ori will help. If not, she will watch the bird woman dress her own wounds, and ensure Xayah is not disturbed. After all, the night is dark and full of terrors. Very few are as kind as her.
She finds herself laughing suddenly, her stoic nature and deadpan tone of voice melting away for a few moments. It's just all so silly. This whole situation. Arguing with a voice in her head, and how poetic that makes her. This woman before her, this guardian - perhaps as alone as she is. Villains before heroes, heroes before villains. At least this woman, Xayah, ought to live. At least her.
Ori's expression flattens out immediately after without warning.
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I'm back only for Draeya and, if Wup is still around, Wup.
Anyone else, you'll have to remind me who you are. I don't remember anyone, and I can't match urls to names or old names to new names, or remember the history. You'll have to remind me, if you want me to remember.
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#// it's been a long time after all.#// this is going to be super low effort. it's really just for draeya that I dug out my old login.
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...I think I quit. Which has probably been a long time coming, as I’m sure most of you could tell!
But the fact is that I would log in and then scroll through primarily to support & interact with people, but like... not for myself. So then I’d just log in when I posted art, and then do the same thing. Except that there’s almost no point in posting art here. And now I just log in, comment on a few things, and then get scared that I said something I shouldn’t have and made someone upset. Among other concerns, like my ask miss-rate, low self-esteem and anxiety, and the general malaise of logging into a site where I don’t have the energy or time to keep up.
So.
I quit. And like... not the ‘oh but I’ll still log on to post art’ shit. I’m just kind of over it all. My mutuals and other folks also, you guys meant a lot to me. ( @summoner-renzus / @defyances / @halfliing-ormr / @embraced-agony / @ioniasjewel / @virtuosin / @piltover-sharpshooter / @lightshielded / @sheriff-caitlyn / @yuhl / @regina-tenebris / @thegoldentigress / etc etc I’m sure I fucking missed some people ). As a general statement, I enjoy the presence of every one of the people I follow, and 90% of the people who follow me. So if you’re thinking “well damn shit I’m not on that list” you probably are. The 10% are basically just people I don’t even know. But mostly I think most of you are well-intentioned, kind, and genuine, and I love that about you all.
It’s been real.
If you still want to talk to me ( ? ), I’ll pop back in once in a while to answer any asks or whatever related to that. Hand out my discord, what have you. Mutuals are welcome to that. If you wat to cut ties here, I respect that too. ( If I am not responding, you can ask someone who has my discord if they can contact me. That’s cool. )
People on discord, you cannot escape me ( you can, you just need to talk to me on discord and we can go our separate ways peacefully ), I will continue to harass you with animals on a weekly basis. Love you long time. If you still want to see my shitty art, talk to me and I’ll get that figured out or squared away.
So this is me saying, “I’m out, but you can still come contact me if you wish and I’ll try and make that work.”
Yup yup.
Baibai.
#// I hated feeling like I was... a pest. a nuisance. just someone who invited themselves in and wasn't welcome.#// a fucking terrible feeling which is not anyone's fault but my own - but if that's how it's going to be I'd rather just not be around.#// desperation and self doubt somewhat hit their peak.#// and I just do not want to draw 'league' anymore#// I want to be thought of as someone who's drawing their own shit and making their own shit - because I am#// because even one ounce of the effort I put into Ori is more than she got in five years#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#// y'all take care homies. keep it real.#// disclaimer: someone might drag my ass back but it's not that likely. cheers.
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Background study evolved into a thing for my D&D group.
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Background study evolved into a thing for my D&D group.
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#my art. // music in color. a symphony of emotion poured onto canvas.
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"And in the end, there were no more gods to pray to, no more heroes to depend on - no one answered my prayers, no one heard my call. There was just me."
#body horror cw#my art. // music in color. a symphony of emotion poured onto canvas.#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#the angel of rust. //
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Concept for a Homunculus Servant, Tetsu ( full name: Tetsudatte ). It’s a pun on the word for iron ( tetsu ) & the word for ‘to help’ ( tetsudau, conjugates to tetsudatte ). It’s all one big pun, he’s the ‘Helping Hand’.
He’s a bit chipped on the edges, but he’s aight.
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#my art. // music in color. a symphony of emotion poured onto canvas.#// expressing the direction of so many boxes was difficult.
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Been busy. Continue to be busy.
Just got finished trying to create an appropriate boss monster for a party of 7-8 level 20 adventurers. Brain hurty
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#// but why you no post art or something you ask me#// because all I've drawn is super low quality headshots and deltoids and also my head hurts#// I did not forget this place but I am just... mmm... somewhat on my way out the door perhaps.
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Testing tones by attempting to copy a manga panel by Oh/sawa Ya/yoi.
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#// please don't rebagel this one.#// as it's explicitly me copying someone else's work to learn.
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#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#my art. // music in color. a symphony of emotion poured onto canvas.#// I'm still alive. Lurk lurk lurk...#// alas I haven't been here for a month but oh well.
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What chess piece are you?
Stolen from @sheriff-caitlyn, tagging anyone who wants it.
———————————–
The Conductor - Black Knight
You are a Black Knight, the black sheep, the underdog. As the only piece that can jump over others, you can easily get yourself in and out of situations - always catching people off guard with your charisma and cunning. You move in the shadows, trading information with shady people, getting the upper hand through not always good methods. How far do you think this road can take you? For all your charisma or cunning, lies can only get you so far. One day, that mask you've put on will slip, and you'll be left defenseless. But until then, oh black knight, live like there's no tomorrow - because there might not be.
The Angel of Rust - White Rook
You are a White Rook. As a piece that can move inwards and outwards, you're a master of self-reflection. You know what needs to be done and when to do it. You're a protector, and would willingly take someone's place in danger in a heartbeat because you know you can handle the pressure. But even castle walls crumble. For all your chivalry and fortitude, everything must come to an end. Will you be there to see the final stages of the war? Or will you have already been discarded in the battle?
The Blade Witch - Black Rook
You are the Black Rook. As a piece that can move inwards and outwards, you're a master of self-reflection. Being the black piece, you hide an inner beast within you. Perhaps you're one to rush headfirst into trouble, was it for a friend's sake? Or your own? Are you the overprotective type? Did you know your grip was that tight around someone's neck? For all your protectiveness and deliberate planning, you can't wash the blood off your hands that easily.
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#the angel of rust. //#the blade witch. //#the conductor. //
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Ah, that day is coming. The musician is going to stay inside, cover her head with pillows, and pray to all that is good and holy that they not be too loud.
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Things that are the same between my muses and I:
Oscillating rapidly between “prove everyone who told you that you couldn’t do it, were unskilled, and treated you as less than completely, utterly wrong” and “becoming good enough to stand on equal footing with those we respect"
#ooc. // a reprieve from the chaos we call life. neither violent storms nor soft snows will reach you here.#// motivated by spite and admiration in equal measure.#// anyway apologies I haven't been posting much. been trying to learn a lot of stuff and deal with adult life things.#// there's nothing really pretty to draw when I'm learning about the muscle groups of the upper arm.
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It should be obvious but Ori hates Renata.
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