#― | you are my king and i your lionheart ( whisperscomeonbrokenwings )
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noxianhand · 7 years ago
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send ∅ for darius’s opinion about your muse | @whisperscomeonbrokenwings​accepting!
the might’s gaze softens if only by a bit as he regards the visionary. it’s too subtle a change to be too glaring, either way. perching his chin upon a gauntleted fist, he cocks an eyebrow.
“what to say of you, jericho, that you do not already know,” he begins and the tone he uses is nearly conspiratory, almost hushed though they are left by only each other’s presence----it’s an earned habit, as he knows better than to assume the bastion’s walls do not have ears. “you are one of the few men in our empire i could say i admire, both for your fortitude in face of adversity and for your insight to what it truly stands for---for what it should be, not for what men who would’ve left it derelict assumed instead. there’s also another thing, another factor that weighs into this, which would be---”
he stands, steps closer towards the older man. taking clawed hand in his own, he brings it to his lips, kisses its inhuman knuckles with a reverence still prideful, one that resembles more a man of his kind. the scorching warmth of his eyes, however, speak lengths more than it should as rust meets vivid crimson.
if the walls have eyes, then let them see.
if anything, they already know.
“---that you are the only man i have cared to give my heart to.”
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noxianhand · 6 years ago
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how to care for darius: haul his ass down to the medical bay even though he insists the stab wound in his gut is 'tis a flesh wound.
anonymously or not, send “how to care for” instructions for my muse @whisperscomeonbrokenwingsaccepting.
the deadpan stare darius promptly aims jericho’s way is poignant in its expression of distaste, even if not poignant enough one may take him for truly enraged. he’s miffed his lover not only wouldn’t listen to him when he told him he knew of the severity of his wounds but would insist on the subject, as if he was a mere child. it felt insulting, condescending, but since a greater part of him knows that comes from worry, he tries not to feel embittered.
to try is the key of it --- he isn’t sure how successful his attempts have been or currently are.
“you're still convinced i cannot take care of myself, i see.” he starts and of course, there’s a tinge of acridity to his words. “one may wonder why you chose me as your might if you picture me as so inept, jericho.”
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noxianhand · 7 years ago
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💕 and 💔 for my swain
relationship headcanons! | @whisperscomeonbrokenwingsaccepting!
under which circumstances would darius fall for swain?
do you mean all circumstances except gk, munnie, wtf--earning his trust and admiration slowly, swain often manages (and has managed) to worm his way into darius’s heart. it’s always a slow process of them realizing their affinities, realizing their mutual admiration and eventually just letting feelings progress from that + continuous interaction that their work freely provides them with.
what must swain do to ruin their relationship?
i can break it down to break his trust, but there are many ways swain can go about that. he can belittle him or his position, strip him from the power he himself bestowed him for no reason other than reaffirm his place as grand general, fall to the siren’s song of a certain pale sorceress  --- in short, pull a darkwill on him on any sense and he’d be done with it, his trust something rare and frail that shouldn’t be broken even once. all of those and oh! of course: try to make him into sion 2.0. (:
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noxianhand · 7 years ago
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(Feature meme.) Eyes, most certainly. Even if he sometimes has to crane his neck to gaze into them, Jericho can feel the warmth, passion, and strength contained in them. It is these looks that reassure the Visionary that even if their bond might be a mistake, it is undoubtedly right.
what does your muse think that is darius’s most attractive feature? @whisperscomeonbrokenwings | accepting.
--and those are looks reserved only for swain himself, something easy to notice if one paid enough attention, if one shared the same moments they did, of rare mutual vulnerability. between four walls, in privacy, when their armors are put aside in both metaphor and reality, the hand’s gaze would easily speak lengths about their bond, about the truth of his feelings. it is often far more telling than any word they’ve shared, any of his oaths made known.
he’s made himself the empire’s, a vessel of its will and image of its power, but whatever is left of himself after that, whatever of the man behind the myth remains, he willingly gives it to the one that now holds his heart.
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noxianhand · 7 years ago
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[ direct ]  your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye .
non-sexual acts of dominance | @whisperscomeonbrokenwingsselectively accepting.[ direct ] your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye.
HAD IT BEEN ANY OTHER MAN to hold him in such manner, to demand of him compliance, darius would have reminded them no wolf bows to men with ease. it’d cost them broken fingers, perhaps, or a good measure of fright as the might got his message across; he does not tolerate being talked down to, and this gesture, albeit in actions and not words, is often rife with condescension. but it is jericho, so instead he heeds to it, nearly leans into the touch of his clawed hand in an effort that is almost subconscious.
either way he has to lean down a tad to do as instructed, the few inches that have him towering over swain ever present. like clay, this once, he molds to the request. silence befalls them as rust red dips into crimson and as he brings his own hand to the older man’s cheek, a callused thumb over fair skin, he lets a soft bit of breath out before he leans further, further in, until he’s pressing a kiss upon thin lips. it’s quiet, this time, but like all there is to the might, it remains intense as he brushes his lips alongside jericho’s. fingers slip through his greying hair before he pulls back a little and leans a little further into the touch of those claws.
his eyes don’t leave the vision’s but now it is as if he asks, in his sated silence:
                                            are you satisfied, jericho?
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noxianhand · 7 years ago
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P1. Under the cover of night, a hooded figure stalked through the inky darkness, only stopping to peer over his shoulder and reassure himself that he was alone in the funerary hall. It had been decades, no, a century since his loss, yet he still made this walk every year as if he were a newly-forged widower. It did not take him long to find the massive statue portraying his long-dead love, for it inevitably drew the attention of all the entered the hall.
darius is dead, tell me how your muse is dealing with it | @whisperscomeonbrokenwings​accepting.
P2. He paused as he laid eyes upon it…they had captured Darius’s visage almost perfectly, and his chest ached as he remembered how those harsh eyes would soften as they gazed upon him. Steeling himself, he strode towards the foot of the statue where a handful of offerings from Noxus’s modern patriots sat above the plaque detailing the Might’s name and accomplishments. Most had brought food or small trinkets, as delicate flowers seemed an inappropriate gift for one of Noxus’s strongest sons.
P3. One visitor had even brought a finely forged knife, and Swain resisted the urge to take it for himself, as the blade torn from his own coat had grown dull and thin with resharpening over the years. Alas, he would not rob from his lover’s grave, no matter his needs. Pulling his gaze from the weapon, he found a spot among the offerings and withdrew his glowing demonic hand out from his cloak.
P4. Clutched carefully between its thumb and index finger were two raven’s feathers, black as the night of his visit and so pristine that they looked like they had just been plucked from the bird. Swain carefully laid them down among the cured meats and metal baubles, and knelt before the cold, stone replica of the man he still loved. He did not cry, but how he yearned…
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