#facemeandperish

[the-dragon-blade]

He snorted, his grimace showing exactly how he felt before his words even came. He made no attempt to hide any of it, as if the very idea bothered him in a deep level.

"Shaman, priest, healer, I don't care how you call it. Your mind is fractured, seek someone's help." His patience was running out for this circus act. Not the blade, the blade was cool. Just...the...rest of it.

This guy had come in while they were making bread jokes, threatened violence, and now was twirling his blade while talking about religion and dances. Ugh....he smelled as old as he acted.

"Bah, whatever. Keep....dancing, the mood is ruined already.", Igris huffed and rolled his eyes, walking back to his table. He needed to wash whatever this was away with alcohol.

(( this was all I could think when @the-storm-chaser explained the situation to me earlier. @the-dragon-blade @witches-and-weirdos

[cirathiel]

🎄Chibi commissions for @silly-storm-chaser | @facemeandperish

[pg--animation]

Custom weapon - Goliath Prayer Beads (for @facemeandperish )

vgen link

[infinite-xerath]

God vs Titan

The day had come at last. Xerath had gathered as many of his subjects as possible from across the lands he controlled. There was a high possibility that spies had gotten word, but it did not matter. No one and nothing could stop him now.

Xerath hovered high above his subjects in the amphitheater. In his hands was clasped an ancient dagger grafted and wielded by the Ascended of old: a blade said to be capable of dividing things between the physical and spiritual realms. “Look upon me, mortals. For ages, I have been confined by the chains of fate. This world should have bent to me centuries, but I was denied my moment of triumph by two false heroes. Because of them, Shurima became nothing more than a wasteland as petty gods waged war over the remains of a dead empire.”

The Magus raised the dagger. “But no more! Witness, mortals, the true glory of your god! Witness the majesty of Xerath!” He plunged the blade into the seal, creating powerful ripples and distortions all around. Xerath laughed as the magic of the dagger shifted his prison in and out of the spirit realm, living him him stationary. The shards that had long confined him fell to the ground below as Xerath himself no hung in the air, unbound after millennia.

“Free at last!” Maniacal laughter filled the air as the crowd stared on with both horror and amazement... However, in the heat of the moment, both they and Xerath failed to notice the chaos stirring elsewhere in the city...

@facemeandperish

[ascendeds-call]

An ancient threat stirs once more.

The Darkin rise from their prisons, the Sunborn bringing nothing but death and destruction as they rampage through Runeterra.

Is this to be the fate of all of the Ascended?

Even among the Ascended, Aatrox had been a paragon of justice and honour. If there was within the Darkin even a shred of the noble warrior he once was, Nasus hoped that the return of the Empire would spur the ancient warrior into action; and, dare he entertain the thought, perhaps even set the Darkin upon a path of redemption?

The Empire would need all the help it could get to take Shurima back from the Magus and his forces.

And so the Curator leaves the sandy expanses of his homeland in search of his lost brethren. It was easy enough to track the Darkin's trail of destruction; mortals spoke readily of the name Aatrox - it seemed that the Darkin had already made quite the name for himself since his return.

He finds the legendary warrior along the borders of Demacia, armoured bodies littering the battlefield around him. Noxian or Demacian, it mattered not what standard they fought under, none were spared the Darkin's wrath. Standing alone amidst it all, tattered wings hang from the Darkin's imposing frame, his entire form a perversion of the golden warrior he once was.

"...Aatrox."

Sorrow fills his voice as he calls out. He had mourned the name for eons, one of countless others that were lost in the fall of the empire. That he had returned was of no solace to the Curator. The Darkin had fallen to the depths of depravity before they were finally sealed away; would he even remember the days when they fought together, leading the golden armies of Shurima against all that would threaten their prosperity?

Nasus' war-axe is held at the ready as he watches for Aatrox's reaction; ready to defend himself should the darkin react with hostility.

@facemeandperish

START || NEXT

[dreaded-omen]

(( Given how he responded to Jack, Omen'd fuckin LOVE the hetareia of Ancient Greece. RELIGIOUS prostitutes, bound to Aphrodite, and their sworn mission, as it were, was to essentially give you the single best night of your life, as a sort of holy thing. Every idea accomodated (within reason, no murder or that sort of thing), every lust satisfied, it wasn't uncommon for a man to hire a hetareia so that they could talk, and not even in a sexy way. - facemeandperish

@facemeandperish

“Seeking to grant the whims of lessers because a higher power asks you to? If a God wanted something seduced, they should do it themselves; and a human should be more than capable of justifying such goodwill without the need for divine approval. But, I can see the value a vent such as these.”

“...Was there anything stopping someone from going to several Hetareia? A different hairstyle, a deeper tone of voice; an easy several occasions to be had.”

[skydarkin]

(( how on earth do you RP as someone who (apparently) literally never speaks? I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest that sign language is unlikely to exist in Runeterra as of yet lol )) - facemeandperish

( ive written as another character that doesn’t speak or use sign language before, but i wanna answer from the perspective of someone who hasn’t bc ive seen this question before )

“sign language” as we know it isn’t actually one universal system you have to use to speak to the deaf, there are a lot of different forms of it,  the one you’re probably thinking of was invented in 1817, and another form was invented as early as 1620 ( which piltover has well passed in terms of technology. ) 

but besides that, people have been communicating in similar ways since early man – people who couldn’t speak didn’t just.. not communicate with people. you can be incredibly expressive without the use of words. 

i actually don’t understand this argument — don’t a TON of sona blogs exist? 

[steel-and-fire]

"Yo, let me the fuck down.", he demanded, but made little attempt to escape the grip. He did not want to cause a scene in the party, and he had never learned how to half-hit something.

All till he was thrown in the air. Well now, wasn't that irritating?

He stabilized his body on the descend fairly easily, and just before the other could grab him, he blasted fire from hands to propel himself out of his reach, and to the ground. Ouchie. The garden didn't look all that nice anymore , and his hand was at the hilt of his sword. Equally calm expression, but a few blazing flares sparking now and there. Can't scare a dragon with heights, but doesn't mean he liked it.

"Eat more, touch less. I'm not into sickly, rotten old men." He said as he let go of the blade and walked passed the 'tree', and back into the house. He had a contest to win, this foolishness was worthless.

Excellent. Now that we have assembled a good portion of our guests, the events may begin! Behold, muselings, our first endeavour!

[Platters of Christmas sweets are brought in, cookies and fruitcakes and sugarplums as stretching across the center of the floor; accompanied by gallons of eggnog.]

A contest, of sorts. I believe your kinds refer to this as a ‘Mukbang’. Horrible thing in truth, but extremely entertaining. For every cookie, you must consume a glass of delicious nog! They who consume the most will receive a wish granted upon Christmas morn!

BEGIN!

[the-storm-chaser]

Perched on a stump, it could be seen that the fighter was sharpening a blade that clearly wasnt her own. Aside from the sound of stone grinding on metal, there was a silence in the camp, one that she had become accustomed to over the months. Outside of training sessions and other forms of tutilege, they left each other to their own devices. Idle chatter wasn't exactly expected, nor entertained most of the time, but a question had been simmering in the back of her mind. One that could make an exception to this expectation.

Her strokes slowed before she laid the sharpening stone beside her, inspecting the blade's edge for any signs of wear, and once satisfied, she returned it to its sheathe, pausing before her eyes flitted to her tutor.

'Sir...do you have a moment?' Her words were quiet, unsure how to break the silence and grimmacing when she did so.

@facemeandperish

[pg--animation]

In The Language of Flowers for @facemeandperish

Ashari - White Tulip

Vgen link

[infinite-xerath]

Continued from here

Xerath laughed. “If YOU are what is to be considered ‘whole and sane,’ Darkin, I am almost curious what you believe to be madness.” Xerath hovered closer, compensating for the slight height difference by elevating himself a little bit. “Do not compare me to the likes of you and the rest of your Sunborn ilk. You call MY power perverted, but look closely at yourself, Aatrox. You yourself are little more than a puppet of flesh, spurred on by the tormented mind with that sword of yours.”

The Magus moved his gaze to the Darkin’s blade. “And yet, you and the others stood against the wretches of the Void with half-baked Ascension and primitive weapons. By contrast, I am being unfettered by the restraints of flesh, and wield arcane power beyond that of Nasus or Ne’Zuk. When I am free of this sarcophagus, I will burn away the Void’s taint and seal the rift myself... This ‘slave’ will finish you could not.”

[juun-the-aira-mun]

"The strong survive, the weak perish? What a narrow-minded, boring view."

The stargazer rose an eyebrow, shaking her head, as her skin pulled itself close and shut, the ashen color that it had lost but moments ago returning to the bloodless skin. "If that had been true the past few millennia, there would be no one left who could utter such nonsense."

She could tell the other wasn't willing to really talk. It ... didn't surprise her. Honestly, it would have surprised her if it had been any different, really, as she stood up. Dusting off her clothes, her bag wrapping around her neck, she straightened her back and looked up at him. Even considering how tall she was, Aatrox easily towered above her slender form, yet there was nothing about it that actually could intimidate her. "And here I was, hoping your rampage had a bit more ... interesting ideals behind them. Survival of the strongest? The strong have been perished by the weak so many times, it's a farce by now to follow such an ideal.", she said, shaking her head again, before she turned to look at the village below her.

"As I am sure you have learned firsthand, haven't you?", she added, more a mumble this time. It wasn't really like her to talk to herself, but she was quite certain she might as well have in this case. She couldn't be sure, yes, but she had an idea or two; regarding if Aatrox was even interested in her words. It had happened so many times before; the Watchers, the Darkinlords, Vastaya, and many others. it barely mattered to her anymore if she was heard or not, but she had witnessed the fall of the strong many times before and she was certain she would witness them fall again and again until the end of time. "Are you just ... going to wander off now? Into the desert?", she asked and turned her head to look at him again. "May I ask what keeps you from having a companion for a few miles? I know how loneliness feels."

@facemeandperish

Barh'hia. Aira remembered this place, now that she gave it a closer thought. She tried not to remember much when she was working like this. It made it just oh so much more painful to feel attachment and compassion for the things in front of her that she had no way to influence or stop. In a way, this was probably the worst part of her duties; the constant necessity to remain silent and still. She couldn’t recall a single one of her kin to ever having enjoyed this special form of torment, but again, it wasn’t at her place to really complain about it anymore.

The sound of steps crunching sand beneath feet made her stop her sketches, as she slowly rose her head. Her eyes glanced to the side, moving away from the smoldering, red-hot ashes and ruins below her, the small village just a memory that would be swallowed by the sands of the desert in time. Slowly, she turned her head, eyes as cold and hard as they always had been when she met one of his kin. It wasn’t so much a way of arrogance or even of anger or upset. It was a form of sadness and understanding.

“Was this one necessary?”, she asked without doing much more than turn her head back towards the village remnants. There was no fear in her voice or stance. Rather a weird form of calmness and silence that radiated from her. “Or did you just happen to be here at the wrong time, Aatrox?” Aira glanced up at him again, without moving her head this time, as her book lowered itself onto her lap.

@facemeandperish

[storm-of-doma]

@facemeandperish's Wol and Azem

[remember-no-more]

◎ - facemeandperish

"Heart meat... one big bloody heart served half raw on a plate..."

She looks a little disgusted to the thought of such meat...

[ascendeds-call]

Your muse as a magic school student

And we all know Renekton flunked out of magic school by punching some professor in the face.

Tagged by: @infinite-xerath

Tagging: @burden-and-truth @aatrcx @facemeandperish