#jerichoswain

[sazomsz]

My bird man chilling on beach!!

[savielart]

Some art of Swain from League of Legends for the contest. But actually, I struggled a lot with the background lol, so I don't have big hopes. xD It still was fun tho! I wish there were more interiors of Noxus houses/castles. • • • •

[azumitaragashi]

[nashatrace]

This is my book cover for the next story I am writing. Seeing so many talented ppl makes me want to give it a try :). My fanfic is on Wattpad and I’m so in love with him

[ladybuvelle]

jerichoswain replied to your post: Swaina or Swona?

In my files, I refer to it as the Crow and the Swan.

// WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN-

[maxwyn]

I think that Swain and LeBlanc are my new obsession ♥

[jdesign-art]

"Rostros que se desvanecen entre las llamas... todo es su culpa" - Swain Swain (versión Zaun) #lolartprompts #lol #leagueoflegends #swain #jerichoswain #noxus #arte #art #fanart #draw #dibujo #drawordie https://www.instagram.com/p/CWr19rbLajT/?utm_medium=tumblr

[banishingtheshadows]

((While watching @jerichoswain‘s stream I said ‘SING MY ANGEL OF MUSIC’ in chat and now I want a Lux/Swain Phantom of the Opera AU

can i help it if i really love this musical it might actually be my all time fave if i bothered to think about rating musicals against each other))

[hedonisthemomancer-blog]

Dim twilight. An evening on the cusp of spring and summer; cool, with a warm breeze. Dark red roses bloom in the garden.

The diplomatic gala had ended at last, and there was no denying that the night had been far more fruitful than Swain could have possibly dared to hope. The dull roar of the mingling crowd had finally softened to little more than a whisper as the vast majority of the evening’s guests retired to their rooms or ventured home. Ever the gracious host, Swain waited until nearly all of them had gone before excusing himself, eager for some semblance of peace and quiet after the draining endeavor of such a wildly social event.

Most might assume that he’d returned to his chambers in search of blessed solitude, but Vladimir knew better.  Few would suspect it, but Jericho had always found solace in nature, relishing the sensation of being surrounded by living things that would make no demands of him. Ultimately, Vladimir was not so different, and although he typically preferred his company to be a bit more… lively, he could not begrudge the Grand General his eccentricities.  

Indeed, he might even go so far as to call them charming.

Sure enough, as he stepped into the gardens tucked away in a hidden courtyard of the estate, Vlad caught sight of Swain crouched beside a rosebush, intact hand ungloved and inspecting a nearly-bloomed bud with a tenderness that a less informed man might call uncharacteristic.

The hemomancer crossed the garden swiftly and silently, but his companion had already climbed to his feet and turned to meet him by the time he reached his side.  Vladimir was almost disappointed, but he supposed that a man with thousands of eyes to see through rather deserved the advantage.  Almost as though echoing his thoughts, a raven perched on an ivy-laden trellis to his left cried out, its beady black eyes fixed on him as it cocked its head.

“Good evening, my dear General,” Vladimir greeted with a grin and a slight incline of his head. It was far more courtesy than he typically afforded anyone other than LeBlanc, and Jericho raised one scarred brow in bemused recognition of the gesture before turning somewhat and lifting his chin, a silent invitation for the blood mage to join him.  

Swain had never taken kindly to being touched without warning, but they were alone here, and Vladimir figured that he had earned a few liberties, with how well the evening had gone.  Wordlessly, he pressed in close against the other man, shoulder to shoulder and hips barely touching, waiting to see if he would take a step away or shake him off.  To his surprise, Jericho made a soft, dry sound that seemed caught halfway between a resigned sigh and a bark of laughter and steeled himself, muscles growing taut against the hemomancer’s slender body as he braced his gloved hand on the balcony behind them to support their combined weight.  Emboldened, Vladimir shifted languidly and inserted himself rather pointedly into the crook of Swain’s arm, earning himself an exasperated roll of the general’s eyes for his trouble, but little else.

They stood there for several moments, and it was Jericho’s turn to be surprised as Vlad’s silver tongue remained still behind his unnaturally-long teeth.  Normally, the hemomancer filled any and all silences with ceaseless chatter, but it appeared that he was returning a favor - as Swain had indulged his need for touch, he was indulging the general’s need for a silent respite.

Jericho let his eyes drift shut, seeming oddly at ease with Vladimir’s warmth at his side.  He was almost certainly playing the events of the night over again in his mind, watching his interactions with foreign dignitaries anew through the eyes of feathered spies that had hidden throughout the rafters and on windowsills, searching intently for any signs of duplicity.  There was no doubt that he’d find several, and would immediately begin implementing backup plans he’d prepared weeks ago, having already anticipated these and dozens of other acts of betrayal.

Still, that was not what he needed just now, when his mind was weary and his favorite nuisance had come specifically to find him.  The blood mage resisted the urge to sink his magicks into Swain’s blood to force his attention back where it belonged, instead opting for a gentler method.

Vladimir waited a moment longer before announcing, in a voice just a few decibels louder than it needed to be, “You can thank me for my assistance tonight at any time, Jericho.”

Predictably, the general’s crimson eyes snapped open, brows furrowed in undisguised irritation for only a moment before his expression smoothed into something contemplative and subtly amused.  “Hm.  You were remarkably well-behaved tonight,” he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

Vladimir had deliberately been excluded from the guest list for this gathering, given Swain’s familiarity with the ancient mage’s tendency to sow utter chaos at events such as these out of boredom and sometimes sheer spite.  Still, that had not stopped him from attending, just as it had failed to stop him so many times before - whether he crashed these soirees out of vengeance, mischief, or perhaps a secret loneliness, Swain had yet to determine - but tonight had been different.

Instead of scandalizing visiting politicians with gruesome tales of lesser-known Noxian history and terrifying guests with subtle threats and subtler magic that had them fearing for their lives, Vladimir had been the picture of a perfect gentleman.  He’d charmed fellow nobles with that wicked grin and catlike grace of his and stunned ambassadors with his extensive knowledge of their nations, all without any input from Jericho. He’d held the party in the palm of his hand, wearing the spotlight like a king wore a crown, and more than one unsteady alliance had been shored up by his machinations.  

Swain was, to put it plainly, flabbergasted.

“It was all a bit eerie, if I’m to be perfectly honest.”  Jericho turned to face him, arm tightening almost imperceptibly about his shoulders as he did.  “Still, I’m of half a mind to invite you to the next event, to see if perhaps lightning might strike twice,” he mused, for once not bothering to hide the smile that crept across his face.  

“What can I say?  I’m always searching for entertainment, Jericho, and while seeing you flushed with anger never fails to delight me,” Vladimir assured him, lips turned up into a coy smirk as he leaned closer.  “That smile of yours is an even more appealing target, rare as it is.”

Swain opened his mouth to reply, but his half-formed retort died on his lips as his gaze fell upon a faint glimmer of deep scarlet hidden beneath Vlad’s cravat.  Wordlessly, he reached up to untie the intricate knot that held it in place; the bare skin of his ungloved knuckles brushed against Vladimir’s throat as lightly-calloused fingers searched for the ends of the delicate silver chain he wore.  

He could feel the hemomancer’s gaze on him like a physical weight, but he reached into the plunging neckline of Vladimir’s shirt without care or shame, finally retrieving a very small, very familiar vial–

Swain held the pendant in his palm, staring down at the gift he’d sent Vladimir in a fit of impulsive sentiment several months ago.  He’d received a letter in return, teasing him about the scandal of such an intimate gesture and subtly threatening to parade it around for all to see.  Beyond that, however, he’d never heard another word about it, and he’d nearly forgotten all about his ill-advised little gesture.

He was keenly aware of how closely they stood, and could feel the blood mage’s breath stirring his hair, but the task of meeting his gaze felt almost herculean.  

“You’ve been wearing this all night?” Swain asked in a low voice, oddly captivated by the sight of his blood glinting in the moonlight.

“My beloved general, I’ve worn this since the day you sent it to me,” Vladimir said, sounding for all the world as though he were explaining basic arithmetic to a child.  

“Even knowing that no one would see it?” Jericho prompted, finally raising his eyes to meet Vlad’s gaze and finding it unapologetic and shameless.  “Passing up an opportunity for scandal doesn’t sound anything like the Vladimir I know,” he continued, voice softening around the jest.

Vladimir’s smile was implacable, but his tone dropped into something deep and sincere, sounding far more serious than Swain had heard him in years.  

“This gift is mine, and mine alone - just as you are.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy with implication and things that would likely remain unspoken as long as they both lived.  At last, Jericho broke into a dry chuckle, releasing Vlad’s necklace and watching it settle back against his neck. 

“You are… incorrigible,” he whispered with a slight shake of his head before he leaned in close.

Vladimir moved eagerly to meet him, but was taken aback when Swain’s head dipped lower.  For the first time in centuries, a flush sparked to life at the edges of the blood mage’s cheekbones as the general’s scarred lips pressed to the pendant where it lay nestled at the hollow of his throat.Swain’s voice was coarse, and it sent subtle vibrations dancing along Vladimir’s flesh as he continued.

“But you are indeed mine.”

[bloodforvlad]

@jerichoswain made a donation

He blinks in disbelief, at first, that the Grand General would so willingly hurt himself, would open a vein. Vladimir takes the barest minimum, swallowing hard as he expends his energy to close that wound, worried it might not be enough to fight the power concealed in the man before him. But blood is blood and wounds are wounds, and he heals Swain.

Then his claws curl, ushering the few precious drops of blood from Swain’s arm towards him, before he starts to weave them in the air between them. His eyes gleam and glow, his focus tempered by his fear and his desperate need to impress. How much can one do with so little?

Vladimir is well-practiced in that regard.

The droplets form two pearls, stretching, elongating. Vladimir’s hands flex and weave, his brow furrowing as he focuses. Both elongated shapes are bisected by blood he allows to congeal, to darken, to scab without scabbing. Longer, thinner, and they spin, slowly, showing how thin and delicate the creations are becoming. He cuts, he shapes, he stretches, then he bites his tongue and focuses intent enough that beads of sweat form on his brow. Liquid blood hardens, locking into shape. Crystalising.

The gleam fades from his eyes as he watches the two near-identical feathers float down and rest in the palm of one outstretched hand. He looks them over, almost anxious to look for flaws, for anything that might reflect poorly. But it seems these trinkets are just as he intended them to be: worthy presents for the Grand General.

He closes his hand, presenting the crystal feathers between the flesh of his index finger and thumb, holding them up so that the Grand General can see the detail, the play of colour, and the way the bloodstone has been crafted so fine that it might as well be stained glass.

Source: artist Michael Dupille [x]

[sazomsz]

[sxlemnity]

A Surprise Invitation

This day started out as normal. It started with her waking up, slowly sitting up and stretching to work out the stiffness in her muscles and joints that came with sleeping on something so unforgiving as the ground. Even being used to such a thing, she felt the familiar dull soreness- protests from her body that demanded she stop this lifestyle. But she dared not think she had much of a chance to do so in the future.

Ignoring that, she fetched her bag and carefully looked inside. The day before, she’d had the money to buy some fruit in the marketplace. She didn’t feel ill, so that meant that she could probably eat an apple and not regret it later that morning. It was during this time that she saw a raven alight upon the ground in front of her. Beady black eyes stared at her, and she found herself a bit sad that she had nothing like bread to share with the bird. Ravens were one of the most intelligent bird species; She knew this from books she had gotten to read in times past. Why would a bird land so near a human if it weren’t looking for something? She didn’t know if it’d be wise to feed it fruit.

“If you’re looking for food, I’m not sure if this apple would be safe for you. Do ravens eat fruit?”

Elaine found herself answered by a harsh call and a ruffle of feathers, along with a hop toward her. It was then that she saw the scroll it carried. Was that... for her? Her brow furrowed. Carefully, she reached forward, waiting for the bird to fly away. Instead, she found herself able to retrieve the parchment. It was an invitation, and to a banquet no less.

A banquet in Noxus for those magically inclined.

“How...?” When she looked up, the bird was gone. How had someone in Noxus known about her magic? Surely they wouldn’t know from Demacia.

The invitation promised immunity. She would be safe if she decided to go, and really, it was such a chance that she couldn’t turn it down. But what would come of such a thing?

——

Luckily, Noxus hadn’t been too far from where she had been traveling. She was able to make it to this banquet in a timely manner, and so she arrived in the infamous city. The small woman stuck out like a sore thumb here, and though many in her place may find their surroundings intimidating, she only felt curiosity.

Following the directions she had been provided with, Elaine made her way to a large manor. She knocked on the door, then waited, unsure of what may happen next. Excited as she was, she knew there may be dangerous individuals here. She’d have to remain cautious around people here. Especially if there were any Demacians that might know her.

@jerichoswain

[azumitaragashi]

[noxian-rose]

jerichoswain

  noxianhand  i can’t believe my...

// Listen I’m on the boat and it set sail like five years ago and I can STILL barely even keep up with one blog let alone my other non-internet life responsibilities so I shall weep with you my friends, for the never-ending flood of creative ideas that none of us can keep up with

gosh i run two other blogs and i can barely keep up with them as is . and leblanc sucks up a lot of my attention so here we are with longing for bird man but can’t do anything because whATs tiMe ? BIG MOOD RN TBH . 

[jerichoswain]

"Sona."

He speaks her name like a caress, his dark voice warm as velvet. It settles around her like a slow summer’s dusk.

"It is a distinct pleasure to see you again."

As the quartet begins another piece, sweet music swells in the air, and he meets her eyes. His stare is piercing, scarlet red; flashing with the faintest glint of mischief. Then he extends one formidable, black-gloved hand, holding it between them.

Long fingers unfurl in a silent request.

"I am nothing if not ambitious," he says, his voice friendly, familiar. The corners of his eyes crinkle with humor as he smiles, his lips hidden beneath the folds of his scarf.

"And so, if I may be so bold," he continues, holding her gaze, looking down at her through dark lashes, "May I have this dance?"

@ladybuvelle

[ladybuvelle]

jerichoswain replied to your photo: <Did you fly far last year, little friends? I know...

A particularly beautiful jay alights very close to her. It warbles and trills pleasantly. tilting its head to fix her with one eye.

<|Cute...!|>