#(drabble tag tbd.)

[deathdxnces]

The first thought she has is that he does not look as frightening as she remembers. Not as tall, either. The admiral is taller than she is, and clad in dark iron he cuts the impressive figure of a dangerous foe — but not as dangerous as the one who had haunted her nightmares for years, robbing her of peace at any moment of possible rest. He had always seemed insurmountably large, a shadow behind the soldiers he ordered to do his dirty work. Now he looks less a monster and more a man; a scared one at that.

She looks at him and sees the last name on her personal list; her family's murderer. What does he see when meeting her gaze? Death, Irelia would wager from his frightened looks; his near future and the fact nothing lay beyond it. The thought fills her with some sort of vicious pleasure, the delight of the hunted turned hunter.

Dig another grave and get rid of her. His voice is what she remembers more clearly, the words as clear in her mind as the day she heard them. Even that doesn't sound quite the same. He had been barking orders and threats, but there is a shake to it now, an uneasiness. He is afraid and she lingers on it, dwells longer than she ought to, savors the taste of satisfaction she will only get once. He will die afraid. It's not enough, but it is still the best form of justice she can offer to those she lost.

"I know who you are, girl," Irelia can see recognition in his gaze, and for a moment that too pleases her, before his words make clear where it stems from. "The one from the Placidium — the one who cut off Swain's arm." Of course. He has yet to realize the little girl from a small village in Navori is the same now in front of him, the same who had fought his High Command in the Placidium, the same who would now take his life. Maybe he doesn't even remember that happened, she considers, frown deepening at the thought. Why would he? It had been just a little girl, just another family killed and buried in their own gardens. How many others had he killed? How many Ionians had met their end due to the orders of this man, who didn't even have the decency to wield the blade himself?

"We don't have to be enemies — under Noxus' banner, Ionia would have the strength to defend itself from anyone — and you! You're strong, a natural leader. The empire values such talents. The Hand himself hails from one of the annexed territories. If you join us —"

"You disgust me." She understands his words (learned to, as most Ionians did, out of need); her retort is viciously spoken in her mother tongue, nonetheless, dripping with venom and bitterness. "After all this, to think I would join you?" A scoff, blue eyes as sharp as the steel she is armed with. "Pathetic."

A fluid hand motion and he reaches for his sword, though the man still does not use it. Her blades, hovering in the air between them, return to their original shape, her family crest reformed.

"You said you know who I am, but you don't, Admiral Duqal. Do you recognize that crest?" He does not reply; instead, the noxian finally leaps to action, an attempt at attacking her that is as predictable as it is simple to dance around. Irelia spins away from his edge, the careful formation of her blades undone as they flow into action. As she twirls, so do the weapons match her rhythmically, meeting their target not in her opponent's weapon but his flesh. The dancer needs not to block a blow she can easily dodge; instead her blades replicate a blow she had become famous for, the man's arm severed while he screams. At sixteen, the sight is far from unusual. She had seen enough battle that severed limbs were nothing anymore. She had cut off enough of them that even the sight of her blades wet with blood makes her feel nothing.

Well, not nothing. That isn't entirely sincere. There is an ugly satisfaction to it, dark and shameful; he is in pain, suffering, and she is the cause. This should be a grim task, but it isn't. She likes that it was her brutal blow that left him like this.

They would be ashamed of her, Irelia is certain. If they had answered his violence in kind they would still be here, a part of her retorts bitterly. But they are dead and she is not and outside thousands of people look up to her to lead them — to save them. She can't do it if not by fighting back. She wouldn't want to do it without fighting back.

Noxus deserves no mercy. That is for beings with hearts and souls and spirits. The monsters deserve nothing.

"I asked if you recognize the crest, Duqal." The inquiry is repeated sharply, the form of her blades now stained with the man's blood. His face is pale; whether from the blood loss or fear she is uncertain. The noxian replies with a shake of the head, confirming what she suspected. To her, it had been years of fear and nightmares, years of dreaming of revenge; to him, it had been nothing. Her family died because of him. How could that be nothing? How could it be so insignificant it eluded his memory entirely?

"You killed the family who bore that crest — all of them, from an elderly woman to a boy of not even four. All of them but one. The girl who stole this back from the hands of your soldiers survived. The one you would have killed for her defiance," She watches horror and realization bloom upon his face, knowing full well where this leads. "The one who will kill you now."

There is no time for a reply; a single swift motion and his throat is slit, despite a pathetic last effort to raise his arms to shield himself from her blades. For a long moment, Irelia stares at the man's fallen form, the blood pooling beneath him. She wonders if it would be enough, if this night she would not have to fight troubled sleep, if her family would rest more easily now.

It won't bring them back; the ache of grief and loss unmoved, no matter who she killed. And yet few things could have left her more satisfied. No, this would not bring them back — but it still felt good.

[popstr]

it’s an awfully unfortunate waste, simeon thinks to himself, that this particular light suits ammon al-busiri and his emotional turpitude as well as it does. it’s remarkably early in the morning for such a strange meeting, only around 9am. even now, sim knows it was morbid curiosity alone which led him to agree to it in the first place when ammon texted him the night before - a predictably brief message with an uncommon earnestness that caught his attention, against his better judgment.

his ex-lover sits across from him now on the back patio of simeon’s malibu residence, cupping a fresh latte in his hands and leaning back in his chair as he gazes out over the beach below. ( ammon makes it look casual, but sim knows him well enough to realize he’s avoiding his gaze. ) the soft morning sun falls flatteringly across that thick brow, smooth forehead, perfect hair, the dashing cut of the other man’s jaw. beauty had never been ammon’s shortcoming - neither of their shortcomings, in truth - but it’s been so many years since sim was blinded by it, since the sight of the other man left him breathless rather than uneasy and suspicious. instead, there is a history which hangs heavily between them, serving the opposite effect of rose-colored glasses and casting a far more unflattering glow on sim's former flame than perhaps he even deserves. but what ammon deserves or not isn’t simeon’s concern or responsibility, certainly not now, not outside the silent and tacit agreement to play nice with each other now that the band is making music again.

sim wonders why it feels like this meeting has nothing to do with that invisible contract.

ammon seems uncharacteristically nervous, which takes him by surprise. it's always been simeon who can't sit still, simeon who fidgets and wiggles his knee and changes positions every minute. but the other man continuously adjusts uncomfortably, crossing one leg over the other for moments before uncrossing, sits forward in his chair and then back again - all while tapping one finger against the side of the mug.

after a minute of silence, ammon says, ❝ nice place. then again, you always had great taste in real estate. ❞

it takes sim a moment to realize that ammon has never actually been here, that he'd purchased this property well after their ill fated romance had crashed and burned. so much of his existence has always felt defined by those agonizing years - and yet he's lived so much of his life without it. without ammon. without what he had once believed to be the pinnacle of love.

sim's gaze flickers to the waves rolling upon the pale shore, to the morning sun glinting off the water. too picturesque for the minefield it felt lay between them. ❝ I have great taste across the board. but I doubt you came here to discuss my investments or my taste. ❞

❝ you didn't used to cut to the chase so quickly. ❞

❝ yeah, well, it's been a few years since we hung out and the suspense is simply killing me. ❞ sim's flat tone suggests quite the opposite ; if anything, he's impatient to move on, to go about his day, to walk away from this situation that makes him feel as though he wants to step out of his very skin. the first time they'd met after so many years, simeon had been raw, practically spilling his guts onto the table between them at that restaurant despite every effort to hold it all in. now that he's grown accustomed, now after all the rehearsals, after forcing himself to grit his teeth and bear the new normal until it became commonplace, he's replaced his mask - and he finds that it becomes less of a mask each day. in moments, he almost enjoys ammon's company in a detached sort of way, that barely breathing part of him still somehow trained to crave the other man's approval.

he comforts himself by remembering none of it is real. it feels as manufactured to him as his very public image.

❝ your sarcasm has become awfully compelling in those years. almost makes me wish you were a little meaner to me when we were going out. ❞ simeon catches the small smile ammon directs into his coffee cup as he speaks, and for some reason, it makes his blood boil, although he keeps his expression steady.

❝ your sense of humor clearly hasn't improved. listen, if you just came here to shoot the shit and reminisce about the old days, I'm not interested. ❞ sim maintains the same flat affect, although he can feel a muscle in his jaw flex on instinct.

ammon sips again from the mug in his hands. ❝ I think you know that's not why I'm here. ❞

the seriousness of his tone, the way it dips low as if trying to remain private even in a private residence, puts sim on guard. his hands tighten around his own cup and he feels his shoulders pull inward just slightly. some intuitive part of him knows what's about to be said - and yet, there's so little logic to such a conclusion that it feels crazy even to consider and he squashes such a ridiculous thought down as soon as it can enter his mind.

sim's next words tumble from his mouth like a joke, phrased as though it's the most preposterous thing he could possibly say. ❝ so, what, did you come here to confess your undying love and beg me to try again now that we've grown up after all these years? ❞

a heavy silence falls between them, somehow bloated and uncomfortable and chilly all at once. simeon's eyes narrow as they snap back to ammon, watching the way his mouth draws together, the way his nose wrinkles and the way he readjusts himself once again in his seat, silent, for once apparently unable to formulate a response.

❝ you're fucking joking me. this has to be a joke. right? ❞

❝ please, simeon, please, for once, don't be so trite about this. I'm serious. ❞

sim sets his mug down a little too heavily onto the saucer in front of him as he feels his temper begin to rise in his throat, to tingle in the tips of his fingers and toes so strongly that he's forced to rip his gaze away from the other man to stare again at the ocean beyond. ❝ you're really going to tell me you think you love me after everything, and you'd like to try again, and then call me trite in the same fucking breath? real nice. this feels familiar. ❞

sim watches as ammon's nose flares just slightly. ❝ sim, stop. besides, I think talking about love like that is a little premature at this point. it's just ... I never stopped caring about you, sim. I was just a kid, we were both just ... we were kids. there's a lot I would have done differently, looking back. but we're grown up now, and more and more, I wonder if we ever had a proper chance, if we could - ❞

simeon cuts him off. ❝ we couldn't. ❞

❝ just let me take you out. doesn't have to be public. just ... at least once, at least so we can talk through it. ❞ if sim didn't know better, he'd think ammon was begging.

❝ one brush with death was enough, thank you very much. ❞

❝ hey, that's not fair, sim, ❞ ammon answers a bit more firmly, his tone going momentarily gravelly. even as simeon said it, he'd known it wasn't fair, but he can't help himself. he's never been able to help himself. for as much control as he's developed over the years, for as many coping mechanisms as he uses to regulate his own emotions, so much of himself feels like a pot of hot water ready to boil over at any moment. ❝ I just ... aren't you even a little curious? if there's any chance it could work? ❞

❝ no, ❞ simeon responds immediately, unable to keep himself from crossing his arms over his chest despite knowing how much of a petulant child it must make him look. ❝ because I know it won't. I look especially pretty in the rear view, ammon. I've known that for a long time. I just never thought I'd have to be the one to talk sense into you. you don't want me! you don't even think I'm funny, for fuck's sake. ❞

ammon scoffs and the sound makes simeon bristle visibly. ❝ don't be ridiculous, of course I think you're funny. ❞

❝ bullshit. ❞ simeon almost laughs through the word, although it certainly sounds more manic than amused. ❝ bullshit! I embarrass you. even now. what, you think that gets better and more endearing if we're dating? I remember it differently. ❞

❝ we both remember a lot. but we're different people now. I think - ❞

❝ we're the same people. just older and apparently with different delusions. you don't want to go out with me, ammon, and I certainly don't want to go out with you. ❞

❝ don't tell me what I do and don't want. I'm asking you. please. ❞

another silence settles between them. simeon's gaze, like stone, fixes again on the shoreline, then into his coffee mug as he picks it up. after a moment, he drains the cup and sets it back onto its saucer, shoving his tongue into his cheek. his stomach flips nauseatingly and he can feel something growing in his chest, something perhaps a little too electrifying. it doesn't cross his mind that he's about to do something he might regret.

❝ you really think you want this? ❞ he asks finally, eyes glinting as he finally looks directly at ammon, mouth set in a thin line.

ammon doesn't hesitate. ❝ I do. ❞

simeon looks strangely serene as he nods once to himself, as if making a decision. the serenity turns to a chuckle, disbelieving and almost dark, as he rises from his seat and turns to walk back into the house without another word, his expression set in a firm and unyielding determination. he hears ammon's follow as sim snatches his wallet and keys from the pristine kitchen counter and makes his way toward the front door - but not without pausing for just a moment to remove the golf club from its wall mount in the front entryway. a prop from a film, and certainly not originally intended for this sort of work - but it would do and it seems oddly fitting.

❝ sim ... what are you doing? ❞ ammon's voice quavers just slightly ; for the first time since this encounter began, he sounds properly nervous and simeon can't deny to himself that it fills him with a delicious sensation of power that burns through his veins to each single solitary nerve of his body.

later, he's sure he'll recount to his therapist how formidable it makes him feel even now to follow his deepest and most destructive impulses from time to time.

sim doesn't answer as he pushes through the front door, pausing only briefly on his front porch to look at the new model corvette parked in his driveway next to sim's own baby blue convertible porsche. matte black. of fucking course it is. unbelievable douchebag. he chuckles roughly, sarcastically, under his breath as he shoves his wallet and keys in his back pocket and grasps the golf club with both hands on his way down the front steps.

❝ simeon, what the fuck are you - ❞ ammon isn't able to finish his panicked question before sim lifts the club and, with every bit of strength he can muster, brings it down against the driver's side rear view mirror, cleaving it from the corvette in one clean motion. unsatisfied, sim lifts the club again and smashes it into the mirror now on the concrete below, splintering the glass into pieces. ammon's yells sound like he's hearing them through water as he strides to the other side of the car, lifts the club, and repeats his destruction on the other side, giving the second mirror a few more hits for good measure before tossing the club in the back seat of his own car.

❝ just a little reminder not to look back, ❞ he shoots back, so calmly that it's almost eerie. ❝ go fuck yourself, ammon. ❞

with that, he slides into the driver's seat of his porsche, not sparing even a glance for the dumbstruck man standing stunned on his driveway, and drives away with tires squealing, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and sand and the smell of burning rubber in his wake as he heads for the pacific coast highway without a single destination in mind.

[draconscious]

'...There's a challenger.'

Fran's declaration is met with derisive scoffs and murmurs from her fellow Blackthorn City Gym trainers. A capable seven-badged opponent hadn't passed through their gauntlet's fanged entryway in months, the League becoming a seasonal afterthought as Clair's understudies warded off poachers, rescued Dratini, and hunkered down against the harsh mountain winter.

Even in these summer months, the rest of the Leaders continue to serve as ultra-capable gatekeepers--but every so often, an upstart slips through the Ice Path...and is promptly rewarded with the right to undertake one of Johto's most difficult challenges. The final Gym. A ruthless trial featuring a lava-esque hot spring, gargantuan boulders...and a select group of Blackthorn's finest dragon tamers. All eager for fresh meat. (Even now, at the mere mention of a 'challenger,' a hungry electricity fills the air. Clair's experienced trainers immediately prepare to depart the Den to take up their gauntlet stations. Good luck getting past them.)

And at the apex of her Gym, Clair perches, sharp eyes trained on the entrance. Despite the sweltering heat choking her arena, despite the fact that this new arrival might tap out right away, the heiress has been here for hours. Preparing. Training. Loosening up. (Call her cold, uptight, or stubborn--but, in the end, there's no denying Clair's supreme work ethic.)

Blackthorn's Leader exhales. For this fleeting moment, she doesn't have to worry about her city, or the mountains surrounding it. For this fleeting moment, the familiar rush of battle courses through her veins...and--for once--she only has to focus on one objective: crushing the challenger daring to approach from below. Gods, she's missed this. Finally.

Clair wicks some sweat from her face and clasps that timeless cape tight around her neck. When the Gym's door opens, and Lola can be heard cheerfully explaining the challenge to the incredulous newcomer, a small smile manages to find her lips.

It's good to be back...

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

In his ever persistent quest to cure Feixiao of her Moon Rage, Jiaoqiu has gone down some rather… unconventional avenues. Of course, his herbal remedies and proprietary consumable prescriptions have done wonders to stabilize the general’s health, but they would not bring the healer any closer to ridding her of the affliction in its entirety. No… he had to think outside the box — outside what the field of medicine at large would consider “standard”. And so, Jiaoqiu set his sights on the closest thing he could get to the source of the accursed Moon Rage;

The Abominations of Abundance.

Jiaoqiu would not be able to acquire such specimens himself, as he did not possess the combat prowess necessary to dispatch such creatures. So instead, he asks a favor from Moze and a select few cloud knights to procure a body or two when they return from the battlefield, cut it into several large pieces, pack the sections into a large ice chest provided by the healer, and discreetly deliver it to Jiaoqiu’s kitchen. Then the research would begin — flesh would be neatly sliced away from bone, skin and blood samples would be extracted to be viewed under microscopic observation, and extensive notes would be written down in a worn leather-bound journal. How could he have not thought of this sooner, that the key to curing the general could very well lie within the very creatures birthed by the Plagues Author? How foolish of him…

There was a flick of a soft pink ear as Jiaoqiu was hit with a realization in the midst of his note-taking session, the pen in his hand halting abruptly in midair. He jerked his gaze up towards the long, wooden butcher block situated in the center of the kitchen, where cut sections of a freshly dispatched Golden Hound lay in a neat array atop the table’s surface. A pensive tilt of the head, pale gold eyes narrowing in contemplation. Thinking back on it, he had noticed a surprising amount of marbling mingled throughout the flesh, more than he would have expected from such a beast. In addition, appearance wise, the meat looked no different than that of the native game he typically dressed and prepared. The foxian was not a wasteful man in the slightest, believing that every part of an animal could be used for some kind of beneficial purpose. It would be a crying shame for such perfectly good meat to just be tossed aside as refuse.

…perhaps he should attempt creating a nutritious meal out of it, for curiosity’s sake...

[lovinggreeniehours]

fault

↳ faruzan × arin × sethos (though this is more arin-centric than shippy)

↳ 600+ words

↳ trying to conceptualize arin's character more, and i ended up with this. now there's angst with no resolution🥳 (so far) i might rewrite this for something bigger but i wanted to get the idea out of my head first. im not sure how well people might understand this without context but. i hope there's an inkling at least?

Everything hurt. From the pounding in Arin's head to the soreness of his legs. He expected that, having only woken up several hours ago. But there he sat, late in the night, already dressed to leave. He just had one thing left to check.

Watching Faruzan wake up beside him, he imagined she was feeling somewhat similar.

"Hey, dummy."

Faruzan grimaced, cringing away from even the barest streaks of moonlight from her window. She turned left and right in confusion, hair mussing up around her head.

"Wh-What? Arin?"

Arin simply shook his head. He released a gentle wave of Cryo energy to his fingertips, ghosting his hands over her forehead and scalp to help her relax.

"We're fine, we're fine. I just wanted to see if you'd.." He paused, then shook his head. "Nevermind. Just go back to sleep."

When he was confident she had fallen back asleep, he spoke up once more, now more or less just playing with the uneven strands of hair framing her head. He retracted his hand, reaching to his side to pick up his sheathed sword.

"Sorry, Paruparo. I won't be here when you wake up, I don't think."

He caught a glimpse of the view outside the window. A city perched atop the gargantuan Divine Tree, and the rainforest that surrounded it. None of which was familiar anymore. As far as Arin could tell, everything he knew was inside this room. And he hoped she was sleeping well, despite his intrusion.

"I will return tomorrow. After they've.. told you everything." He secured his sheath to his belt, turning to leave.

—

"Hey." Someone said. Arin was too entrenched in sleep to care who, though they're only could be one person. The bitter remains of a forgotten dream clung to the recesses of his mind, ruining his mood before he could decide what it was even supposed to be. "You're burning up."

"Mmph."

Sethos's light eyeroll was audible in his tone. "Come on.."

Honestly, he was probably right. Arin did feel more exhausted than usual. Maybe warm. He wasn't sure. Wasn't it always warm in Sumeru?

"I think we need to camp out a bit longer."

That got Arin's eyes open. He shook his head as much as he was able (which was, very feebly).

"I'll be fine."

"No, no, no." Sethos held him down him by the shoulders just as he was about to get up. Sunbeams poured down over Sethos's head, resembling a halo with the soft lavender skylight of Vanarana. "No."

Arin had to squint at him to filter out the light. "I'm fine."

"No, you are most definitely not."

"We need to help Rana.." Arin groused.

"We do." Sethos nodded. "But, no offense, you're not going to be much of help to her or anyone trying to travel in your condition."

Arin could only muster a huff. To his own dismay, he already found himself too tired to continue his argument, and all too willing to slip back into slumber.

"We need to help Rana." He repeated, considerably weaker than before; more rueful than anything.

"This is just one obstacle." His companion reassured. "Just rest well. We'll be back on the road in no time."

Sethos's knuckles pressed against Arin's forehead to gauge the temperature. His skin held a soft sort of warmth.

Sethos began to mumble to himself as Arin drifted off. The words were lost on him. Something about Sumeru City being too far. Something about the sky. Something about vision.

"Sorry." Arin murmured in his drowsiness. Notably, Sethos went silent. "I did it again."

"Did what?" Sethos asked.

"Stepped.. I stepped on the pressure plate." Arin mumbled. "I hope we don't stay stuck here too long."

Sethos paused, eyebrows knitting together in thought.

"You know.. it's not your fault. For getting sick."

Arin only hummed, Sethos's voice echoing as he finally fell asleep.

[stardustedstories]

They weren't supposed to be here. Raine was supposed to be staying out of trouble, keeping their nose clean until Scooter's retirement and the fact that they were succeeding them as head of the Bard Coven was announced. But the moment they'd heard the broadcast, had heard Eda's name in conjunction with the word "petrification," Raine knew they couldn't just sit idly by.

The bard was normally one for planning everything out, figuring out each possibility and going with the best plan (or the one that would cause the most chaos, depending on the situation), but they didn't have time to think; they just had time to go, to do.

And even as Perry's report continued, they were moving, making their way to the Conformatorium as quickly as possible, hood of their cloak pulled up, hiding their face. They didn't know what they were going to do, but they were going to do something. It didn't matter that they hadn't seen her in more than twenty years, didn't matter that the last time they had seen one another had been when they'd broken up, Eda wasn't going to die today.

Raine knew their way around the Conformatorium; it wasn't the first time they'd been here as part of a rescue operation, and it likely wouldn't be the last. It was the first time they were here without some sort of plan, so it was a good thing they had a knack for improvisation. It also meant they knew right where to go, right where the petrification ceremony would be held.

Maybe it was for the best that their ascension to coven head had been delayed; right now, they were just another nondescript person in the crowd, here to witness the first public petrification in more than thirty years. They weren't sure whether most of the crowd was looking forward to the spectacle or if they were here to watch the same way they would a twenty-witch-pileup. Honestly, right now, that didn't matter. The more spectators, the better; it would be harder to pinpoint exactly where their spells came from.

It would have been better if they could have gotten to Eda, gotten her out before the ceremony itself started, but there were too many cells and not enough time to search all of them. They were just gonna have to make sure to cause a big enough scene, a distraction to pull everyone's focus while they got her out of there.

Their mind was racing; they hadn't ever wanted to see this day. It was part of the reason they were okay with seeing Eda's wanted posters: since they were still up, it meant that she was still okay, was still free. And that was all that mattered.

Raine made their way forward, towards the front of the crowd, with a few rows still left, providing them cover. They needed to be able to see platform, where Eda would be, something that made their heart skip a beat, even after everything. What would she look like now? Would she even recognize them, if she saw them in the crowd?

If they were being honest with themself, it didn't matter. It didn't matter what she looked like, if she remembered them, or even if she hated them. They were going to get her out of here, and that was it. Because even after everything that had happened, even though they hadn't seen one another, had broken up so long ago…., Raine Whispers still loved her.

They heard Perry's announcement, saw the platform rising, and then suddenly, there she was.

"Eda," they whispered, but thankfully, no one seemed to notice. Everyone's attention was trained upwards, fixed on the cursed form of Edalyn Clawthorne. Raine hadn't realized they were holding their breath until they started to get a little light-headed, and they forced themself to inhale, to breathe. They wouldn't be any good to Eda if they passed out; they had to focus, had to figure out a way to get her out of there.

The petrification machine rose up to the platform, and Raine looked over it, wondering if they could stop it from here. They weren't entirely certain how it worked, but if they had two seconds to examine it, they could do something--

Their train of thought is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Lilith in the cage, followed by two children interrupting Perry's broadcast. This was good; they could use this to their advantage.

Raine started moving through the crowd, trying to get a better vantage point, to see what was going on up on the platform.

They were still listening to everything that was happening, so they heard when the kids said that what was happening to Eda wasn't right, that she hadn't done anything worth being petrified, listened as they started to chant to "let Eda go!"

Raine's heart lifted; they weren't the only one who thought that all of this was completely wrong. Eda shouldn't be punished just for wanting to choose her own path, for living her life.

Before they had a chance to do anything, the petrification beam shot from the machine, heading right towards Lilith, only for Eda to jump in the way.

Just as quickly as their heart had lifted, it plummeted, and they let out a strangled cry even as Lilith shouted Eda's name. They had to get to her, had to get up there, get her out! They weren't thinking anymore, they weren't trying to plan or figure out anything beyond keeping her from turning to stone.

But the crowd was in the way. Their brilliant plan of not being at the front was backfiring on them now, and they couldn't push their way through fast enough without using their magic. And they couldn't afford to do that, not when it would get them caught, would keep them from actually helping.

They could see the stone creeping up Eda's form, and they couldn't get to her! If they brought out their violin, they could do something, but that wasn't exactly subtle, and then they'd be arrested for trying to break her out.

With Lilith there, though, maybe there was still a chance. She was the head of the Emperor's Coven, but she was just as in that cage as Eda was.

"Come on, Lilith," Raine whispered, clenching their hands into fists. "I can't get to her; you've gotta do something."

And if she didn't….., well, they were just gonna have to risk being arrested. They were pretty sure they could talk their way out of it, if they really had to. Raine might not do well in front of crowds, and they absolutely got stage fright, but they would come up with some sort of reason why they were aiding a fugitive, and they would have to make it stick.

They'd deal with that if it happened; right now, their eyes are glued to the platform, begging Lilith to do the right thing.

There's someone else on the platform now, someone working to free her, and Raine breathes a sigh of relief, eyes still glued to Eda's form.

"Please be okay," they whispered, not noticing how hard their fists are clenched. They can't summon Fiddlesticks, not with their palisman currently disguised in their violin, but all they want to do is be up there, to see her for themself, to know that she's okay.

The Coven guards start to circle the little group, and when Eda takes off with the rest of them on her back, the crowd starts to cheer. Spears fly in the direction of the retreating wild witch, and Raine lifts a hand to their mouth, letting out a shrill whistle, covered by the noise of the crowd. The golden arc of magic disrupts the path of the spears just enough to keep them from making any sort of contact with Eda, and Raine finally breathes a sigh of relief.

They hadn't been able to do much, hadn't been able to save her….., but she's still alive. And she has other people looking out for her.

Raine will have to content themself with that knowledge. Because even after everything…., she still means the world something to them.

[vartouhix]

new tags.

[galaxofmuses]

Leon let's out a sigh as he is killing time and keeping eye on Ashley, but it seems like the other is conversating with a friend. Of course the girl motions to Leon and telling them to not worry that the agent is harmless like a fly. It made Leon scoff from the response, but of course keeping his distance away, but still in the line of vision of the two chatting up at the cafe table.

"So! What does your dad do? I know your mother takes care of an orphanage."

"Ah...well he's a bounty hunter. He travels a lot for his job. You know....a lot of top secret stuff."

As the two continues to small talk as both of their snacks and drinks arrive. While Leon didn't ordered anything at all even if Ashley assist to loosen up for once. Leon keeps sticking to his boundaries and keeps refusing.

What the three doesn't know that one of the customers has been keeping a close eye on them.

[ofcrossrcads]

time seemed to have done little to soothe karlach's ire at her, and her own attempts to make peace ? were better left unmentioned. little had changed aside from the backdrop of where they made camp each night. on some level she understood the resentment, of course, who wouldn't ? it didn't lessen her own annoyance, though at not having been afforded the chance to earn that ire herself.

it didn't help that she'd found herself growing rather FOND of the tiefling, despite, or perhaps even because of the creative hostility she showed. she'd made her offers, pled her case, and was soundly rebuffed each time. despite the constant, rather loud, yearning, it seemed any touch BUT hers would do.

and if that rejection had started to sting more, as of late? as her affection grew and her hopes shrank, none would be the wiser.

there was no sense in breaking herself upon an immovable object. if she was to be hated for being a devil, well, then she may as well have made use of her station.

it was in her mortal guise that she approached the tiefling, the skin she was most comfortable wearing, raising her hands, palms out in a sign that she came in peace. “ while i do look forward to hearing what you've come up with for me today -- hear me out first, please. ”

even with permission, she knew better than to belabor the point, and so, she both moved and spoke swiftly. pulling one of karlach's hands to both of hers, the devil pressed a ring to her palm. “ this isn't a bargain, a favor, or a deal of any sort. i give this to you of my own will, seeking nothing in return. ” it was best to head off as many complaints as she could before they were given voice -- once karlach cut in, she knew her chance to speak was as good as gone.

“ a show of goodwill, that's all --- the ring bears within it the fiery aura of avernus. so long as you wear it. . . ” trailing off, she reached up, touching karlach's cheek lightly, prepared to face whatever consequence may come. “ just because you don't want my touch, doesn't mean you should be forced to suffer without. ”

[muselexum]

( Tag Dump 1 )

[deathdxnces]

They are never far from her mind or heart. Father perhaps most of all.

It was his forgiveness she asked for whenever her blades — the fractured pieces of their family crest — were stained with their people's blood. With how frequent it had become, the gesture was almost ritualistic; the cleansing of the blades, before sitting on her knees for prayer, an admission of her sins and request for absolution after blemishing their family's honor once again.

Always had her ancestors strived to follow Karma's teachings, but it had been father who first taught her about them. Never inflict harm on anyone, regardless of circumstance. It had been in the little things (the spider has as much right to life as any of us, he had told her once, offering his palm for the creature to climb after she had tried to kill it; Lito simply led it outside, where it could weave its web in a different part of the woodwoven house), soft teaching that sought to ensure she would grow to respect all life. And the bigger ones, too, shaped like reprimands whenever Irelia and Ohn were at each other's throats for something utterly irrelevant and soon to be forgotten (violence is never the answer, regardless of what Ohn did; your anger may be valid, but hurting another never is, much less your own brother). She used to be so pressed about it whenever lashing out felt justified; and yet, stern or gentle, father had always tried to make her understand.

At twenty-four, she had lived exactly as many years without him as she had with father in her life, and not one in which he had not been deeply missed. Next year would tip the scales (a lump in her throat at the thought, vision blurred by the tears she does not attempt to hold back). Kneeling in front of his grave, there is no one to witness it, even as silent tears turn to quiet sobs.

Everyone expects the grief to end, but no understanding of the cycle of life and its ebb and flow would ever be enough to mend those wounds. Irelia wishes only the little girl she had been with her father around had grown to be someone he would be proud of. Someone other than who she was.

[unmeisenshi]

Noel had gotten a chance to get some air after being cooped up in Avett's hospital. A large scar ran across her eyes, scarring them shut. She was getting re-acclimated to using her aura sight as her vision again, and she barely noticed three figures approaching her.

"Oh hey Audie... Kiske... And..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down. A bipedal Eevee stood between the two. She couldn't see it, but this Eevee's fur was white and red, and the tip of this Eevee's tail resembled a flame. "Wait... Is this..."

Audie smiled. "Noel... This is Kitajoh... Our daughter. She prefers Kita. Say hi to your aunt, Kita."

Noel knelt down, and offered a paw to the Eevee. "Hi hiii!" Kita said energetically. Though her head would tilt. "What happened to your eyes, auntie? Are you okay?"

Noel nodded. "Don't you worry your little head off. I'm fine." She stood back up, resting a paw on her katana. The look on her face spoke a different story to Kiske.

"Audie... Catch up with Noel. I'll take Kita home so you two can talk." Kiske gave a small kiss to Audie's cheek before they picked Kita up and continued home.

Audie looked at Noel's scar. "What happened? Did this happen during a mission?"

The Lucario sighed. "Yeah. There's some kind of virus affecting our Gods. Me, Remi, Uncle Morello and Nobuo went to fight Deoxys - it was in a rage. During that fight Deoxys whipped me across the face. Avett says it's too dangerous to try to open my eyes through surgery, so I'm blind once again."

Audie leaned forward, embracing Noel. "I'm sorry, big sis." The Espeon lightly rubbed her back. "How are you holding up? And how are the others?"

Noel returned the hug. She was taken back by Audie referring to her as big sis. "I'm doing fine. Rem is still in the hospital. She almost bled out during the fight. Morello and Nobuo are fine, and Avett is working on a vaccine."

Audie broke off the hug, and motioned for Noel to follow him home. "Fill me in."

Noel would turn and begin following Audie, before...

"Noel..."

She turned around, looking all around her. "Dad? Where are you?"

"The sword..." Noel looked down to see the handle of her blade glowing. "Allow me to help guide you..."

"Noel? You alright?"

The Lucario snapped back to reality. "Uh... Yeah, coming!" She ran up to Audie and began explaining the situation. All the while, Noel could see clearer with her aura sight than she ever could before. She didn't know what was going on, but she kept it to herself for the time being.

[gerudospiriit]

follow up to this ask

Nabooru paced the length of her desk, twisting a crimson strand of hair around her fingers. With how long she strode the same path waiting for Aveil, she could have carved a a path into the the deepest depths of the desert. She purposefully kept her gaze from roving to her desk, the pile of ash sitting atop it. She could still see it in her periphery. Feel the heat radiating through her body. The flames of the torches rising and roaring around her...

When the door finally opened, her second striding in with the least amount of urgency possible, it took considerable control not to scold her for taking so long. She purposefully neglected to request the guard hurry or inform Aveil of an emergency to keep from alarming the young woman or her second. At least not until she could speak with the latter face to face.

"You called?"

Nabooru paused her pacing, and, judging by the way Aveil's brow wrinkled and she frowned, she didn't hide her frazzled state as well as she hoped. "Yes, we need to talk."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. Her specialty under more...normal circumstances. "What's eating you Nabs? I haven't seen you this out of sorts since you were dealing with Ganondorf."

"I'd rather be dealing with him," she muttered, resting against the desk. She folded her arms. "That dignitary from Hyrule wrote us back. He basically said there was nothing they could do, and that all of our concerns were unfounded. He dismissed us, as usual. they won't help and the won't investigate further."

She laughed bitterly and added, "Oh, but we're invited to attend the princess's coronation. Said they would be honored to have us."

The Gerudo second in command's visage darkened. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I'm disgusted. We presented evidence for all of it, but they refuse to investigate?" she hissed, hands curled into fists at her sides. "We can't let this stand. They'll keep doing this to our people and pretend they had nothing to do with it. We have to do something."

"I know," Nabooru agreed, the words of the letter tumbling through her consciousness again. Boiling her blood again. She sucked in a breath to calm herself. Her high emotion seemed to trigger...whatever happened to her before. "As much as I respect the princess for trying to ease the the tensions between our peoples, her efforts are in vain, apparently. The damage from the war, from Ganondorf...it's too much for the fools to put behind them and realize we're just trying to live our lives. They won't be content until we're gone, it seems."

Aveil mirrored Nabooru, arms folding over her chest. "We can't just attack them. The fight would be over before it could start once the Goron and Zora come to Hyrule's aid. And we can't just leave either. We've just started building the town, and we weren't exactly making it big enough for everyone to move into."

"We'll have to be smart about it, but I think our only choice is brute force." She inhaled, the scent of burning paper lingering in the room. "Really plan things out and ensure we don't make a single mistake. Do our research and give ourselves any advantage we can. Find allies, maybe..."

"Allies where?" Aveil questioned, eyebrow raised. "The Kokiri aren't exactly fighters, and those bird people from the north, the Rito...if they weren't interested in the squabbles of the rest of Hyrule before, I don't see why they'd be keen on helping us now."

"I don't know. Beyond the desert? We can travel more now. There might be more out there..." In another realm...

Despite her attempt at putting a positive spin on her suggestion, it still sounded unconvincing in her own ears. They needed a solution, and they needed it quick. Traipsing the desert, speaking and making deals with other tribes or kingdoms if they ever found them...would Hyrule's hate for them allow them that kind of time?

She couldn't get desperate. Desperation bred mistakes, missteps they couldn't afford. She couldn't lose herself. Not like he did.

Her mind reeled back to the letter, the pile of ask she left it in. She licked her lips. "There's...something else."

"Please tell me it's good news."

Nabooru circled to the other side of the desk. "That letter...I..." She trailed off and dipped her index and middle fingers into the ash, dragging them along the wood and leaving two sooty lines in their wake. "I burned it."

Aveil stared, unimpressed. "Is that a bad thing? I think I would have done the same."

"No...no I mean I burned it. With...with..." she held up her hands, half expecting them to glow. "With I don't know what. Magic? My sage powers don't deal with fire though, so...I don't know what happened. The torches went crazy, too. I was reading it, getting angry and..."

She trailed off, pulse quickening. Magic. Forced to carry the legacy and power of the Sage of Spirit irked her enough, and now...now something else awakened in her. What did it mean? Where did it come from? If she lost control of it...

Nabooru swallowed, finally glancing up to find her second in command staring at her in disbelief. "Like, fire magic?" she asked. "You've never practiced magic though. Did Ganondorf teach you something?"

"No, I wouldn't let him even if he offered." She wiped her hand on her pants. "I need to figure it out though. I...if I lose control...I don't want to hurt another Gerudo or destroy the fortress."

Aveil tapped her finger against her cheek. "That's a good point...Though if you lost control in Hyrule Castle..."

"Better there than here, sure, but I'd rather not," Nabooru sniffed.

"Just a thought," she defended, the hint of a cheeky grin on her lips. "My only suggestion would be to talk to one of the priestesses. They're the ones that would likely have any knowledge of magic or...weird magic suddenly manifesting in people?"

Sinking into her seat, she rubbed her temples. "Yes...I guess you're right." The thought of speaking to any of them about this already threatened to split her head with a migraine. "I'll go find them in a bit. Keep this to yourself for now. I'll see what's going on with these powers, and maybe we can do some research on lands outside of here. We'll talk to the rest of the Elite in a few days."

Aveil nodded. "Let me know if you need anything. Go take a relaxing bath or something first. Calm yourself down."

Nabooru waved her off and watched her leave, but seriously considered her suggestion. Stress relief would do her some good. Keep people from suspecting the worst in seeing their chief stressed out more than usual. She stood again, chair legs scraping against sandstone, and headed back to her room to take Aveil's advice.

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

To Catch An Aeon's Gaze

Lan, The Reignbow Arbiter, and Yaoshi, The Plagues Author.

These are the two Aeons that the children of the Xianzhou Alliance are most familiar with, as they are so intrinsically tied to the Alliance's history spanning many millennia. That was not to say that children did not learn about the other Aeons in their schooling. In fact, the history of the Aeons was a required subject: Their names, their titles, the Paths they represented, and their Emanators; mortals who were acknowledged by an Aeon and granted permission to draw power from their given Path. Needless to say, it was a subject that many school children were intrigued with.

However, a young Bai Chenhua held a rather neutral view on the Aeons.

She, being a citizen of the Xianzhou, was a follower of Lan as most of her people were, as it's relentless pursuit of the Plagues Author and it's Abominations was (and still is) a near constant factor of her life. But, she didn't spend much time dwelling on them. They were entities far beyond mortal comprehension, after all, and it wasn't like she could ever catch the gaze of such a being.

Or so she thought...

The sounds of tiny, faint mewling reached Chenhua's sensitive ears as she walked home from school on that fateful day. She looked around trying to pinpoint the noise when she heard it again, and her eyes locked onto a small gray bundle cowering in an alleyway. It was a kitten, shrinking itself away from a group of crows that had ganged up on the poor creature.

As a small Fennekian girl on the cusp of adolescence, Chenhua was not physically strong by any means, but that did not stifle her compassionate and protective spirit. Her friends and loved ones were not the only recipients of her defensive nature -- for she wished to help even the smallest of creatures. This kitten would be no different.

Chenhua did not hesitate to run into the alleyway, shouting at the birds to leave the kitten alone. The crows scattered and fled at the sound of her voice and footfalls, and the little grimalkin slowly blinked it's big blue eyes up at its protector. Smiling softly, she knelt onto the ground and reached out her hand to gently stroke underneath the kitten's chin with a finger.

"You don't have to worry anymore, kitty. You're safe now."

That's when it happened.

A sudden flash of pure white light startled Chenhua, and she squeezed her eyes shut to prevent them from damage. Several long moments passed before she dared to open her eyes again, but to her bewilderment, she was no longer in the alleyway. In it's place, however, was something that was nothing short of shocking and awe-inspiring. She let out a sharp gasp.

Towering over her like a giant stone sentry, was none other than the Firmamend Author -- the Amber Lord.

Qlipoth, the Preservation.

The entity had no real face to speak of, but Chenhua could still somehow sense that they were looking down upon her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. It was as if a great sun had shone it's intense light upon the child's face, and yet Chenhua's eyes were not blinded. Golden, honey-colored amber glowed throughout Qlipoth's body as it raised a massive rocky arm towards her, and the sun that acted as it's face intensified in brightness until Chenhua's vision turned white. The Firmamend Author was gone as quickly as they appeared, and the girl found herself back in the alleyway, still kneeling on the ground with the tiny gray kitten purring up at her.

Chenhua's heart pounded loudly inside her ribcage as her mind reeled with what had just occurred. Why would Qlipoth turn their gaze upon her? From what she knew from her studies, they cared little about the affairs of mortals. And didn't the Aeons only turn their gazes onto strong people?; those who were powerful enough to fight against enemies or protect the ones they loved? Chenhua was nowhere near powerful.

So... why her? Why had the simple act of rescuing a kitten from a flock of crows drawn Qlipoth's gaze onto her -- a sweet, little Fennekian girl with a heart bigger than her own body could contain?

Chenhua didn't know the answer.

She didn't tell her parents what she saw in that alleyway -- something that was unlike her, as Chenhua always loved to talk about her day to them. Her mother and father were loving and understanding, but still... would they believe her if she told them she caught an Aeon's gaze?

Even now in her adulthood, Chenhua still ponders why she was chosen to tread upon the Path of Preservation. Was there some bigger purpose to it all, or maybe, despite Qlipoth's indifference to humanity, they simply deemed that single, selfless act of kind protectiveness worthy of their acknowledgement?

...Chenhua still doesn't know the answer, and perhaps it is something she'll never know the answer to. Even so, she tries her best to be a protector, a shelter, a steadfast presence to those around her. After all, it's who she is, with or without an Aeon's blessing, and that is something truly beautiful.

[irxnmaiden]

[orphanedwolfandfriends]

Verse: Cowboy Bebop Character(s): Cayla (who has no name in this verse), Baron (labeled as the doctor) Content warning: Mental child abuse. Please don’t read further if you’re not able to handle it. Ily, muah.

“D...dog...caaat...” The little one points to the pictures of the aforementioned animals to practice on her speech. For being close to the age of six or seven, she had about as much knowledge on how to talk as a toddler did. She wasn’t diagnosed with any disabilities, it’s just the fault of her ‘teacher’, who would toss her into a dark and isolated room whenever she did something he didn’t like. The doctor himself was assigned to teach her how to function like a human, despite the animal features she’s been sporting since birth. But rather than do that, he was doing what he found to be more important than being her teacher.

She had no parents that she could no remember. Not even pictures to show what they looked like. As far as she knew, she just poofed into existence like magic. And besides these one word sentences, she could barely talk. “Mm...moowwse.” She said, pointing to a picture of the mouse. She then got bored...and wanted to doodle on paper. Taking a black and gray crayon, she scribbled something that only she could identify at first glance. That awful ‘punishment’ room...nothing would be in there but pure, suffocating silence, and sometimes monsters that her own brain would conjure up, some taking shape of the man assigned to teach her.

Suddenly, the gloved hand of the man slumped to the table, catching her attention as he picked up the drawing with narrowing eyes. Had the girl not looked afraid and try to reach up for the drawing, he wouldn’t have pieced together what it was. He then crumpled it up in his hands. “Just who do you think is gonna lose his job if his subordinates find this, hmm...?”  He asks softly, such a question bringing chills to the girl’s spine. She twiddled her thumbs, trying to apologize, but the fear was making her choke up. The doctor shook his head with a ‘tsk.’ “You don’t think, do you? You thoughtless little girl...” He said, before grabbing her on the arm. She pulled back with noticeable strain in her voice, and before she knew it, she was tossed back in to the room, the only light illuminating from the hallway before it slammed shut. Small hands banging on the door in demand to be let out, before sitting to her knees. She shook and covered her eyes as she sat down, her tail around her knees and soft sobs escaping her. Like all the other times she’d be thrown in here, she had no idea how much time has passed, nor what kind of chaos would come next.

The door would suddenly come open, and an arm would take the girl by the back of her cardigan before giving her any time to react. Everything around the two was fire, and smoke coming from different rooms, some of them exploding. Everything seemed to be a terrifying blur color and smoke, not to mention the other staff members of the facility scrambling to get out. Her ‘teacher’ would carry her in one arm like baggage and leave his colleagues to their doom. However...the only other thing he needed before leaving? She couldn’t make out what it was, but it could’ve been important. To his outrage, there was no way for him to get to his own office, so with nothing else to stay in for, he bailed out of the building, unnamed child in tow. Once they were out, there was even fire and burnt debris around them, but not without an open path. He dropped the girl, and dropped to his knees. The girl coughed for the smoke to not linger in her breath, and put in a surgical mask she always kept around for when others got sick. The man screamed out at the sky in a fit of rage, and punched the burnt soil beneath him.

“You...” He said in a dark tone, grabbing the girl again by her cardigan. “If I didn’t have to be STUCK babysitting you, I would’ve gotten to those documents! My research, everything I worked for, GONE!” He yelled at her, the girl whimpering and trying to get away before he shoved her to the ground, hand still gripping tightly on her clothing. Presumably, none of his colleagues would’ve known how badly he treated this child, but it’s not like it mattered to him anymore. “You defiant little..-!” He would’ve continued, but suddenly he was having difficulty breathing. He let her go, and coughed harshly. She took this as an opportunity to run away, but despite him practically dying, he grabbed her by the leg. “What the hell...what the hell’s going on-!?” He said, his coughs becoming more guttural. She kicked her leg to free herself from his grasp. Whatever was effecting him, he was being mighty stubborn to let it kill him, even when the smoke from the fire was no help for his immune system in the slightest. A foot came down hard on the back of the doctor’s skull, and the girl’s leg was free. She covered her eyes, only hearing the shuffling and frantic thuds against the burnt soil as the doctor suffocated and died shortly after. Besides the crackles of fire, and debris toppling over itself, there was silence. And the small girl, with her animal ears and tail, stared up at the figure who, quite literally, made this unlucky doctor eat dirt right in front of her.