#sildain

[truthandadare]

📣NEW FIC ALERT📣

This Shattered Page

Rated M (for now 👀)

Silco/OC , youngSilco/youngEdain

A sharp revolutionary pragmatist hungry for freedom. An idealistic scientist dreaming of knowledge. Both born of Zaun and thrust together as revolution feels on a knife’s edge.

(note: sort of AU for Symmetry 🫢 gotta have some fun through the pain)

[kikiiswashere]

Slowly working my through some of my favorite Arcane OCs/Reader inserts.

Today I present Edain Penner from @truthandadare’s magnum opus ‘Symmetry’. (Plus Chicken the Sphynx that skulks around The Last Drop)

It is one of my most favorite stories. It is so beautifully written, the characters (both canon and new) so fully realized and engaging . . . Auntie’s writing truly inspires me. If you haven’t checked it out yet, YOU MUST.

Done, again, with traditional mediums: graphite, ink, and colored pencil. Below is a progress picture ❤️

[truthandadare]

Delight’s Edge

Silco/OC (Silco/Edain) One-shot

By: TruthAndAdare

Months after Zaun's liberation, its people began to heal, with hope flickering amid lingering scars. As their nation heals, Silco and his lover spend a delicious evening together...

“And what have you dreamt, Edain?”

Before she could so much as open her mouth to confess, Silco captured her lips with his. It was not like the ones they usually shared. Those were tender, delicate things. Sweet scraps of intimacy. This was teeth and tongue, carnal biwitchery.

Months after gaining liberty, shucking itself free from Piltover’s glittering clenched fist, Zaun and it’s people finally knew the relief of dauntless breath. Yes, the afterbirth of their nation still clung to them. Cracks remained, bruises and stubborn calluses too rough to entirely soften for another generation. But scrapes were scabbing and hearts could finally allow themselves the indulgence of hope.

Edain saw the work to be done as she hurried through the Lanes, reading the needs of Zaun in the uneven cobbled streets that threatened to swallow her heel and twist her ankle, in the half empty classrooms, in the twist of her stomach torn posters begging for fire brigade volunteers. Each of these needs she tucked away, filing them to share with others who cared and had the means to make change. It was a growing list but a dynamic one.

She scribbled such thoughts in her pocket notebook on the assent, the rusted cage of the elevator creaking slightly as it rattled to Promenade level, leaving her bullet points disjointed and near illegible. The air was softer when she reached the top, with only the tinge of Zaun’s pungent–if improving–breath. She remained distracted as she stepped out and strode down the hall, dusting off an old memory of the last time visited the boardroom to guide her in periphery. The soft hum of music carried her to the room, a relaxing blend of strings and light percussion, indiscernible but unmistakably the taste of Silco when he needed accompaniment for concentration.

The social scientist hadn’t questioned the setting of their evening, though it’s abnormal location puzzled her. Silco proved himself a lover capable of spontaneity, perhaps a little theatrics. Nothing far too grand or excessive, nothing worthy of making her blush with anything other than delight. With years apart, years of thorny yearning, a serpentine reunion, the King of the Lanes had missed the opportunity to properly woo her.

Or more likely, this was entirely practical, the offer of an exhausted but sensible industrialist looking for a moment with his companion after a slew of meetings.

She tucked her notebook in a pocket as she used a shoulder to open the doors to the boardroom. Was it so bewitching last time? So breathtakingly grand? Perhaps it was the shadows then, clinging and heavy, that beguiled her memory of that night long ago.

There were no twisting shadows in the room she entered. Lamps hung from the soaring ceiling like stalactites, lit by a variety of cavern larkspur, crispspring mushrooms, even deadly milkpoppies. The bioluminescent plants and fungi illuminated rich honey golden light which poured across the large but utilitarian board table. The golden light mingled with patches of green glow, of healthy growing foliage-mints and jades and pine. The dance of hanging lamplight warmth and the reflections through verdant glass across the expansive table, the amethyst velvet chairs, the lush Zaunite native garden of carnivorous pitchers stretching twenty-feet tall alongside cave scuppernong and fluffy ferns.

Rich was the light that spilled over Silco as he lounged at the head of the table, thin book in hand and fierce features slightly relaxed but concentrated, framed by the thriving garden behind him. A platter sat before him, a simple tray but colorful with fruits sliced thin, vegetables, seed breads, tiny dishes of spiced butters. Beside the spread sat a half empty bottle, liquid of rich plum sat in two gold rimmed glasses, untouched, allowed to breathe while he waited for her.

Well, theatrics it was then.

He did not look at her as she made her way to stand beside him, his eyes still scanning the book in his hands, though she saw the straightening of his spine, the melting of his features. She had become fluent in the language of his sharp edges and her heart still ached to see them soften, if only in the company of those he cherished dearly.

“You’ve eaten?” Silco eyed her softly from over the pages.

“A little,” she whispered the small lie. Her appetite was ever the first victim to slipping hours and anxiety. A terrible habit, a stubborn old pattern, and one Silco seemed determined to never ignore. Ever the hypocrite for a man who simply ate to live, having lost much more than a sweet tooth since his attack from Vander. “This is far too lovely to spoil.”

Edain studied the simple beauty of the colorful platter before stepping to him. It was always his left side she kissed first in moments such as these, slow, tender, purposeful. Soft lips upon ridged scar tissue. She knew it was only the whisper of a touch for him, an echo, no matter how harshly she pressed to his skin. But by the close of his good eye, the slump of his tense frame toward her, the hand that slid to the small of her back and pulled, it was clear intensity of touch was inconsequential.

She allowed the soft pull of his hand guide her to press against his shoulder, and she gained a peek at his reading material as she swept in for a brush of lips against his. They parted as his hand slipped from her back and he shut his book with a small puff and tucked it away so she might monopolize his attention.

“Join me,” the words seemed to rumble from the back of his throat, as if more laced through his soft command than a shared meal beneath amber lamplight. Edain studied the man for a breath as she stood above him and the patient hunger in his aqua eye.

Ah , a look well known to her and likely to leave her a little dizzy by the end of the evening.

“ Euroka ?” She pried, tilting her head to the closed novella. She sat to his right and pulled the wine closest to her and swirled the deep purple liquid until the legs rippled down the belly of the glass. “You’re indulging in fiction.”

Silco quirked a brow as he tilted his own glass toward her in a lazy cheers, before taking a tiny sip.

“The prose is cumbrous,” his low voice echoed in the glass as he took another sip, sending a welcome scuttle of chills up Edain’s spine.

“I warned you.”

“You are an unforgiving reader.” His chest hopped as he gave a soundless chuckle. “And often correct.”

“Thank you,” Edain tipped her own glass to him and took a leisurely sip. Ever the scientist, she allowed the spiced wine to dance deliciously on her tongue for a second before swallowing. The sweetness of vanilla and the zing of currant lingered and she spied a satisfied sigh release from Silco as she smiled gently.

Her time in Piltover had been a complicated one, but for all it’s tragedies it’d allowed her to develope a taste for fine vintages. She stared into the wine a moment, transported to a hundred University funding galas, Hextech social engagements, Progress Day soirees. Expensive excuses for intemperance and bootlicking. Agony at times, but never without a lavish drink selection.

“Hmm,” Silco’s rich voice expelled the bittersweet memories with a hum. “Your mind is busy.”

Edain was not the only one literate in the body language and nuance of their lover.

“I finally had a formal introduction to Councilor Medarda today,” she plopped a grape in her mouth, it’s sweetness slightly alleviating the bitterness rising in her heart. “Best to keep her close, I don’t trust her unwavering support in a free Zaun as entirely selfless.”

It was Silco who stared into his wine then as he sent the glass in small circles upon the table with two delicate fingers on the base, creating a small whirlpool of plum.

“She comes from a long legacy of women willing to draw blood and topple thrones. Did you seize what you needed from her?”

“I know a journey to Noxus will be…ambitious.” Edain shrugged, chewing on another fruit and the memories of the day. “Their academics are as harsh as their politicians, maybe worse. But if our intention is broadening perspectives for building the school, perhaps their austerity is a strength for our research. Meeting with her was more confirmation than anything.”

“She advised you against going.”

“Hmm, she thought she was vague. Or she knows I’m beyond convincing,” Edain rolled her eyes as she took another sip of the wine, let it warm her throat. “Nevertheless…with such a fraught relationship between her—with Piltover at large and their lingering tariffs–”

“Familial hostility,” he interjected lightly.

“Precisely.” She caught his eyes flick to her lips as they twisted into a small smirk. “Zaun may just have an opportunity.”

Mischief danced in his aqua eye and he returned her smirk with his own. A tight sort of smile, peppered with pride, crooked to his unscarred side and a little out of practice.

“Your talents would translate exquisitely into diplomacy. I’d recommend a change in career, were the University not your fate.” He seemed to tilt back, gazing at her through mismatched eyes, ready to either admire or devour her.

Maybe both.

“Bah,” she gave a small huff, feeling the rising blush creep up her neck, heating her cheeks, as she looked into the devilry in his features. A heat bellowed deep in her stomach, heart hammered in her ribs. The temperate room suddenly seemed sweltering. “I’ve studied politics enough to know I’d only like to observe it from afar. I tried to gauge Sevika’s interest the other day. She’s capable of more . Of richer work. She’s not just muscle.”

“Sevika is instrumental to Zaun,” Silco scoffed lightly “in ways beyond politics.”

“As my personal bodyguard?”

All at once the tempting mischief melted from Silco’s features, lips firmly pressed, good eye narrowed. He took a sip of the wine with a harsh motion, as if the sweet liquid vexed him. He leaned toward her then, a challenge shadowing his face.

“You’ve always felt encumbered by the presence of protection.”

“I don’t enjoy feeling chaperoned,” she leaned forward too, into the boiling heat of him. “A goat in need of a collie.” She spread her hand across the table before his mouth could so much as open in protest. He did not flinch as she reached for his hand, slid her thumb along the boney mountains and valleys of his knuckles. “But…I know this,” she squeezed warmth over the top of his hand, “puts me in a precarious position.”

“You are deserving of a peaceful life Edain.”

Both were shrewd enough to know the dangers waiting in the shadows of his orbit. She’d known this from the start–in his employment, as his enemy, as his companion, and now lover. Each step closer to one another widened the possibilities of endangerment. They were careful creatures in the streets. Subtle. But stories crept through the fissures like eels, slipping through their fingers before they could control them. It hadn’t taken long for gossip to spread that the iron-gripped Eye of Zaun was indeed a man with a vulnerability called Edain.

“If the risks are too—“

“I thought we’d moved past doubts?”

Silco set his glass down gently before bringing his other hand to rest over hers.

“It is not a matter of doubts,” he slid his hand to her wrist, gently drew it to his lips and press a steady kiss to her palm. “No fragment of me questions your affection. As you should never mine–not for a fucking instant, Edain.” he still said her name like a revelation and soften unmarred eye to gaze into her as a man devoted, a man aware of the wolves he’d ushered to their now shared door. “There are hazards. Realities–”

“Realities I’m prepared to face so we might make a life together,” she whispered across to him.

“ My love ,” he bestowed the honorific with ease, the low timbre of his voice crackling with something desperate, something wanting. “This world has tattered me. Left me suspicious when it shows generosity. Your choosing to....There are darker edges of our Zaun than I ever wish you to witness. Darker patches within me.”

The soft strings faded their warm melody as the record continued, and Edain saw the small sigh that escaped her lover as the new tune began. She knew it instantly, soft piano blending deliciously with plucked strings. The song they’d danced to, knife to knife, when she still dreamed of escaping Zaun and his hair was not so painted with silver. Surely the viciousness of Silco’s enemies was worth the heat of the memories, the heartbreaking earnestness in his stare, the knowledge he never wished for her to doubt his true and utter devotion.

“I know this. Welcome this,” his lover leaned forward, slid her hands from beneath his and cupped the soft side of his face. Her heart thundered as he leaned into the touch, closed his good eye, brushing his sharp nose against the palm he’d kissed. “Now, Eye of Zaun,” she smiled crookedly as he allowed her to guide his chin so they might stare into each other. “Will you and your dark patches ever ask me to dance?”

Instantly she was lifted from her chair by the waist. The music seemed to drown under the percussion of her heart as a sinewy arm spread across her back, pulled her flushed body against his. She let him lead her, relinquishing her stubbornness to a man who’d earned her trust and fidelity. This man, who could hum to the rhythm of Zaun’s heart as well as he could hers, who knew the intricacies of her dreams because he listened , who could be content to sit and read at her side for hours. Whose racing pulse she could feel as her thumb circled his thin wrist where he held one arm outstretched.

He swayed her orderly, assuredly, to the grace of the music leading her to the other side of the board room amidst the company of indigenous plants and beneath the canopy of emerald and honey light. She surrendered all power as he thrust them both into the flow of the waltz with a strength he rarely showcased in her presence. Edain’s stomach tightened, warmed at the welcome feeling of his strength beneath the buckles and finely tailored garments.

There were no blades this time, no jeers, or flirtations. The sharing of their mutual devotions, of their equal passion and growing desire as they embraced one another in their journey across the room was enough to make them both dizzy and breathless.

“I’ve thought about the last night we danced here,” Edain found her voice, though it came out low, husked. “Imagined returning.”

He stopped their spinning to cup the back of her skull and press his forehead to hers just on the agonizing precipice of harshness. He held her there for a dozen haggard breaths, their devotion and lust mingling in its own waltz as the song dimmed and bled into the next.

Chills vined up her spine as he tucked himself in the hollow of her neck, his nose setting her bare skin ablaze like the feel of dragonbreath. She dipped forward in response, sliding her face against his skin. Edain breathed in the perfume of her lover, sharp bergamot and sweet smoke. She nuzzled the ridges of scar tissue along his left side, with her nose, then her lips, then the soft graze of teeth.

The arm around her waist drew her closer with enough force to release a gasp from her lips. Silco, a man of patience, a man of agonizing leisure when he wanted to torture her with anticipation, pulled her body against him like a man desperate for her warmth, for the full feel of her.

“And what have you dreamt, Edain?”

Before she could so much as open her mouth to confess, Silco captured her lips with his. It was not like the ones they usually shared. Those were tender, delicate things. Sweet scraps of intimacy. This was teeth and tongue, carnal biwitchery.

He kissed her as if famished, his tongue sliding into her mouth to find hers. He tasted of tart currant wine, the spiced warmth of cigar smoke, of need. The force of him was enrapturing, liquifying her until she spread both hands along his back, feeling her way over the tapestry of muscles along his shoulder blades. Silco spun her one last time, and pushed her against the expansive table, leaving her to stare up at him breathlessly.

“Here?” He feigned surprise, the slight hoarseness of his voice and tightening of his body exposing his longing. “In the light of our nation? Upon this table of power?”

Electricity zapped through her blood as Silco loomed over her, capturing her in a kiss that would surely bruise. She gasped against his unforgiving lips as a knee pushed her legs apart and settled at the apex of her desire.

“Yes,” she released a moan at the back of her throat as drew his large hands over her neck to trace her collarbone and then the aching outline of her breasts.“Please…” but her plea remained unspoken as his caress of her breast intensified, sending her eyes shut and a gasp from her lips. “Tortuous,” she whispered with a yearning thrust against the sharp end of his knee. He leaned to press his mouth to her ear. She thrilled to hear the sound of a rare low chuckle through a gasp.

“Deny my lover?” His voice was velvet, warm breath against her ear sending shivers across her skin. “I am a cruel man.” He paused to nip at her ear, the thrill of sharp teeth stoking the embers low in her belly. “Hmm,” the rumble of his voice vibrated against her chest as he slid a slow, measured fingers to grab at her hips, to massage her thighs and finally dip between her legs, making her back arch. “Such salacious fantasies,” those clever hands pulled at her undergarments, circled her sex with agonizing leisure.

He chuckled again to feel her squirm as he built toward her pleasure–teasing her, preparing her, nimble fingers adjusting pressure and speed, before thrusting two inside of her, just deep enough to make her moan and rock against him.

“Since we danced blade to blade? Dreaming of how I would take you, leave you breathless in this room? Have you imagined it?” He nipped at her ear once more, harder this time, but still harmless, still measured. “As I have?”

“Silco.” She nodded, knocking their teeth together as she tipped up into her own bold and bruising kiss, sending a surprised sigh to waft over her cheek. As she pulled away she hoped he’d see the fire behind her gaze, matching his own. Hoped he knew not to be gentle this time, that she had no interest in making love tenderly that evening.“I’ve imagined it a hundred times. And I expect you to live up to dreams.”

“Who am I,” he undid the buttons of his trousers without taking his eyes off of her “to refuse such a challenge, such a delight.”

Swiftly he pulled her under garment free from her thighs, discarding the silk to the floor. He took a moment to gaze down at her with a wolfish look, drinking in the sight of her, before plunging into her in one smooth motion. A startled but euphoric gasp released from Edain as he drove into her with an unrestrained vigor, with a power he’d always restrained.

He was often a fairly gentle lover, especially when their hearts had been fragile. He proved himself a versatile partner as he unbridled his desires, denying her nothing as the man thrust into her further, harder, more mercilessly than before. He’d deciphered her gaze, knew the hungers of her body, her unconditional desire for him.

Emboldened by her small thrusts against him, Silco drew his hands over her wrists and pressed them against the slick table, pinning her down with a wild strength rarely manifested in their bedroom. She released a small cry at the back of her throat as he kissed at her neck, nipped at her jaw, continuing thrusts so wanton, so ruthless, it threatened to drive her very soul into the verdant glow above them.

Moans of shocked rapture blended with his heated gasps, echoing through the high ceilings as Silco slowed only briefly to pull out of her, almost completely, before plunging once more, deeper, angling himself both for his own pleasure as well as hers.

“Fuck,” she closed her eyes, heralding a haze of constellations behind her eyelids. “Silco that’s…” An invariably clever and giving lover, Silco continued his steady rhythm at the angle that made her mouth fall open in ecstasy. He remained there, releasing his own ardent moans, fingers spread against her and caging her, his body relentless in its chase for ultimate pleasure. The current dragged her into its depths, dragging her beneath in a sea of starlight, swirling her with an unforgiving but entirely welcome force. Building, building, bursting.

Silco’s lips seized hers as she released an enraptured cry. He tensed, not allowing himself to come undone to the sounds of her satisfaction.

He continued his work of her as she opened her eyes to reveal a man unraveled, disobedient slices of ink and starlight hair falling into his face, unblemished eye closed and the other glowing–blinded but ever watchful with it’s magma glow. Lost was his precision as his thrusts came shorter, almost frantic, airing on desperate. He tucked his face in the valley of her neck once more, searing breath grazing over her as he drove a final profound thrust and released his own breaking gasp.

The moment his hands ceased their intense press of hers, Edain tipped forward to pull his face to hers by the golden embroidered collar and kiss him with matched passion. She held him by the jaw as he relaxed over her, his breaths slowing steadily as the mist of carnal delight dissipated. She rubbed her thumb along his cheek bones, marveled at the beauty of the asymmetry, the dark patches of skin revealed as her finger smudged the medicinal concealer he wore like armor. Silco lay his skull against hers as she continued her tender caresses, their chests rising and falling together as their heart beats slowed.

They were a partnership as much as they were lovers. He knew the fiddling of her rings revealed her anxious heart, she knew the grind of his teeth in the night meant his mind was troubled. He knew she needed regular moments to commune with friends, that she detested being interrupted when concentrating, that she liked dahlias and spiced rolls and never longed for much more than intellectual conversations and the comfort of another’s presence. She knew he needed time in the quiet to properly think, to rejuvenate, and that in the end he preferred if she was there to enjoy the peace with him.

Their intimacy was a pastry layered lovely thing. A bloom still opening but with unwaveringly sturdy roots.

“I want you to join the next assembly,” his unexpected words released as a rasp and she thrilled to feel the vibration of his words as they lay chest to chest.

“You’ve always insisted it's dangerous.” Edain nuzzled her nose against his, waited as her lover drew his hand to cup her jaw.

“That’s not changed. But your voice is a necessity,” Silco slid a thumb over her chin delicately, his earlier mercilessness melted to gentilty once more. “As much as you dislike politics, the university of Zaun’s creator must be welcomed into meetings of authority.” He nodded, bits of his hair tickling her forehead. “It is….a risk.” He leaned to press his mouth against her ear, allowing his voice to drop to an almost growling whisper. “Take pleasure in knowing that from this evening onward whenever I step into this room, I shall be drawn back to this night, these sweet delights, and the thought of you."

“Hmm,” she hummed into the warm space between them. “I’ll think about it.”

[truthandadare]

Symmetry— Epilogue

Epilogue is up and with that it’s the official completion of Symmetry 😭 Thank you to everyone who has joined this adventure and made the last year truly magical 💖 Love ya

[truthandadare]

Symmetry—Chapter 38

Happy holidays my lovelies 😻

[truthandadare]

✨Symmetry's 1st Birthday✨

Thank you to this deliciously depraved fandom and every one of my readers who made this year phenomenal. Can't believe it's been a year since I posted the first chapter and we’re nearing the end. What a delightful ride it’s been 💚

Art by @kikiiswashere and @grayhoodiesrule

Composition “Edain’s Theme” by @silverclef

[kikiiswashere]

Me, settling in to read the newest chapter of Symmetry

[kikiiswashere]

Symmetry—Chapter 36

Only four chapters left of this monstrosity and I can’t believe it 💗💗 Enjoy a little warmth after all the heartache.

[kikiiswashere]

WIP (Not) Wednesday

Well hell why not here's a little something from chapter 33 from Symmetry (spoilers obvs hehehe)

Rules: post a snippet of a WIP, no more than 300 words.

Tagged by: the lovely @kikiiswashere

Tagging: @insult-2-injury and @zkyfall

Also I realized I don't have a tag list for Symmetry so I'll start putting that together, just let me know if you're interested 😘

She greeted the room as a stranger. The old study had been gutted like a Pilt river trout and reclothed with Silco’s taste. The walls were painted the color of rich merlot, lined with new paneling of reddish wood that culminated into grand circular shelving. It held a collection of encyclopedias and a couple of classics settled in alphabetical order coating in untouched spines and pretty gold leafing. The rest of the shelves held a number of boxes and scales and tiny knick-knacks without much use but to fill the space.

She scanned the rest of the unfamiliar room before her eyes settled on a single contraption, left to observe the room from the furthest corner. Edain paused with her hands in her jacket pockets, fiddling with the loose strings and extra buttons tucked into the satin. Each flip of the smooth shell buttons did little to alleviate the weight of memory the typewriter and the table it sat on held.

“I’m in continuous awe of you…” Silco once whispered agonizingly, imploringly, against her cheek. “I don’t know how you’ve made me love you–but I do.”

The space housed such intricate recollections inside Edain’s head. The echoes of gasps, eureka, pleasure, and heartache, all bundled together like kindling in her mind, waiting to be ignited.

"You found your way back?"

Edain slid her hands from her pockets and whirled to face the voice's owner, which was far more velvet thunder in reality than in her memory.

"You purged the ghosts of the study?"

The Eye of Zaun surveyed her quick as a heartbeat.

"Save for one."

By the way he regarded her, she suspected she had finally found her way back in more ways than simply finding the study.

[truthandadare]

Ho ho ho, have some smut for Christmas 😘

Delight’s Edge

Silco/OC (Silco/Edain) One-shot

By: TruthAndAdare

Months after Zaun's liberation, its people began to heal, with hope flickering amid lingering scars. As their nation heals, Silco and his lover spend a delicious evening together...

“And what have you dreamt, Edain?”

Before she could so much as open her mouth to confess, Silco captured her lips with his. It was not like the ones they usually shared. Those were tender, delicate things. Sweet scraps of intimacy. This was teeth and tongue, carnal biwitchery.

Months after gaining liberty, shucking itself free from Piltover’s glittering clenched fist, Zaun and it’s people finally knew the relief of dauntless breath. Yes, the afterbirth of their nation still clung to them. Cracks remained, bruises and stubborn calluses too rough to entirely soften for another generation. But scrapes were scabbing and hearts could finally allow themselves the indulgence of hope.

Edain saw the work to be done as she hurried through the Lanes, reading the needs of Zaun in the uneven cobbled streets that threatened to swallow her heel and twist her ankle, in the half empty classrooms, in the twist of her stomach torn posters begging for fire brigade volunteers. Each of these needs she tucked away, filing them to share with others who cared and had the means to make change. It was a growing list but a dynamic one.

She scribbled such thoughts in her pocket notebook on the assent, the rusted cage of the elevator creaking slightly as it rattled to Promenade level, leaving her bullet points disjointed and near illegible. The air was softer when she reached the top, with only the tinge of Zaun’s pungent–if improving–breath. She remained distracted as she stepped out and strode down the hall, dusting off an old memory of the last time visited the boardroom to guide her in periphery. The soft hum of music carried her to the room, a relaxing blend of strings and light percussion, indiscernible but unmistakably the taste of Silco when he needed accompaniment for concentration.

The social scientist hadn’t questioned the setting of their evening, though it’s abnormal location puzzled her. Silco proved himself a lover capable of spontaneity, perhaps a little theatrics. Nothing far too grand or excessive, nothing worthy of making her blush with anything other than delight. With years apart, years of thorny yearning, a serpentine reunion, the King of the Lanes had missed the opportunity to properly woo her.

Or more likely, this was entirely practical, the offer of an exhausted but sensible industrialist looking for a moment with his companion after a slew of meetings.

She tucked her notebook in a pocket as she used a shoulder to open the doors to the boardroom. Was it so bewitching last time? So breathtakingly grand? Perhaps it was the shadows then, clinging and heavy, that beguiled her memory of that night long ago.

There were no twisting shadows in the room she entered. Lamps hung from the soaring ceiling like stalactites, lit by a variety of cavern larkspur, crispspring mushrooms, even deadly milkpoppies. The bioluminescent plants and fungi illuminated rich honey golden light which poured across the large but utilitarian board table. The golden light mingled with patches of green glow, of healthy growing foliage-mints and jades and pine. The dance of hanging lamplight warmth and the reflections through verdant glass across the expansive table, the amethyst velvet chairs, the lush Zaunite native garden of carnivorous pitchers stretching twenty-feet tall alongside cave scuppernong and fluffy ferns.

Rich was the light that spilled over Silco as he lounged at the head of the table, thin book in hand and fierce features slightly relaxed but concentrated, framed by the thriving garden behind him. A platter sat before him, a simple tray but colorful with fruits sliced thin, vegetables, seed breads, tiny dishes of spiced butters. Beside the spread sat a half empty bottle, liquid of rich plum sat in two gold rimmed glasses, untouched, allowed to breathe while he waited for her.

Well, theatrics it was then.

He did not look at her as she made her way to stand beside him, his eyes still scanning the book in his hands, though she saw the straightening of his spine, the melting of his features. She had become fluent in the language of his sharp edges and her heart still ached to see them soften, if only in the company of those he cherished dearly.

“You’ve eaten?” Silco eyed her softly from over the pages.

“A little,” she whispered the small lie. Her appetite was ever the first victim to slipping hours and anxiety. A terrible habit, a stubborn old pattern, and one Silco seemed determined to never ignore. Ever the hypocrite for a man who simply ate to live, having lost much more than a sweet tooth since his attack from Vander. “This is far too lovely to spoil.”

Edain studied the simple beauty of the colorful platter before stepping to him. It was always his left side she kissed first in moments such as these, slow, tender, purposeful. Soft lips upon ridged scar tissue. She knew it was only the whisper of a touch for him, an echo, no matter how harshly she pressed to his skin. But by the close of his good eye, the slump of his tense frame toward her, the hand that slid to the small of her back and pulled, it was clear intensity of touch was inconsequential.

She allowed the soft pull of his hand guide her to press against his shoulder, and she gained a peek at his reading material as she swept in for a brush of lips against his. They parted as his hand slipped from her back and he shut his book with a small puff and tucked it away so she might monopolize his attention.

“Join me,” the words seemed to rumble from the back of his throat, as if more laced through his soft command than a shared meal beneath amber lamplight. Edain studied the man for a breath as she stood above him and the patient hunger in his aqua eye.

Ah , a look well known to her and likely to leave her a little dizzy by the end of the evening.

“ Euroka ?” She pried, tilting her head to the closed novella. She sat to his right and pulled the wine closest to her and swirled the deep purple liquid until the legs rippled down the belly of the glass. “You’re indulging in fiction.”

Silco quirked a brow as he tilted his own glass toward her in a lazy cheers, before taking a tiny sip.

“The prose is cumbrous,” his low voice echoed in the glass as he took another sip, sending a welcome scuttle of chills up Edain’s spine.

“I warned you.”

“You are an unforgiving reader.” His chest hopped as he gave a soundless chuckle. “And often correct.”

“Thank you,” Edain tipped her own glass to him and took a leisurely sip. Ever the scientist, she allowed the spiced wine to dance deliciously on her tongue for a second before swallowing. The sweetness of vanilla and the zing of currant lingered and she spied a satisfied sigh release from Silco as she smiled gently.

Her time in Piltover had been a complicated one, but for all it’s tragedies it’d allowed her to develope a taste for fine vintages. She stared into the wine a moment, transported to a hundred University funding galas, Hextech social engagements, Progress Day soirees. Expensive excuses for intemperance and bootlicking. Agony at times, but never without a lavish drink selection.

“Hmm,” Silco’s rich voice expelled the bittersweet memories with a hum. “Your mind is busy.”

Edain was not the only one literate in the body language and nuance of their lover.

“I finally had a formal introduction to Councilor Medarda today,” she plopped a grape in her mouth, it’s sweetness slightly alleviating the bitterness rising in her heart. “Best to keep her close, I don’t trust her unwavering support in a free Zaun as entirely selfless.”

It was Silco who stared into his wine then as he sent the glass in small circles upon the table with two delicate fingers on the base, creating a small whirlpool of plum.

“She comes from a long legacy of women willing to draw blood and topple thrones. Did you seize what you needed from her?”

“I know a journey to Noxus will be…ambitious.” Edain shrugged, chewing on another fruit and the memories of the day. “Their academics are as harsh as their politicians, maybe worse. But if our intention is broadening perspectives for building the school, perhaps their austerity is a strength for our research. Meeting with her was more confirmation than anything.”

“She advised you against going.”

“Hmm, she thought she was vague. Or she knows I’m beyond convincing,” Edain rolled her eyes as she took another sip of the wine, let it warm her throat. “Nevertheless…with such a fraught relationship between her—with Piltover at large and their lingering tariffs–”

“Familial hostility,” he interjected lightly.

“Precisely.” She caught his eyes flick to her lips as they twisted into a small smirk. “Zaun may just have an opportunity.”

Mischief danced in his aqua eye and he returned her smirk with his own. A tight sort of smile, peppered with pride, crooked to his unscarred side and a little out of practice.

“Your talents would translate exquisitely into diplomacy. I’d recommend a change in career, were the University not your fate.” He seemed to tilt back, gazing at her through mismatched eyes, ready to either admire or devour her.

Maybe both.

“Bah,” she gave a small huff, feeling the rising blush creep up her neck, heating her cheeks, as she looked into the devilry in his features. A heat bellowed deep in her stomach, heart hammered in her ribs. The temperate room suddenly seemed sweltering. “I’ve studied politics enough to know I’d only like to observe it from afar. I tried to gauge Sevika’s interest the other day. She’s capable of more . Of richer work. She’s not just muscle.”

“Sevika is instrumental to Zaun,” Silco scoffed lightly “in ways beyond politics.”

“As my personal bodyguard?”

All at once the tempting mischief melted from Silco’s features, lips firmly pressed, good eye narrowed. He took a sip of the wine with a harsh motion, as if the sweet liquid vexed him. He leaned toward her then, a challenge shadowing his face.

“You’ve always felt encumbered by the presence of protection.”

“I don’t enjoy feeling chaperoned,” she leaned forward too, into the boiling heat of him. “A goat in need of a collie.” She spread her hand across the table before his mouth could so much as open in protest. He did not flinch as she reached for his hand, slid her thumb along the boney mountains and valleys of his knuckles. “But…I know this,” she squeezed warmth over the top of his hand, “puts me in a precarious position.”

“You are deserving of a peaceful life Edain.”

Both were shrewd enough to know the dangers waiting in the shadows of his orbit. She’d known this from the start–in his employment, as his enemy, as his companion, and now lover. Each step closer to one another widened the possibilities of endangerment. They were careful creatures in the streets. Subtle. But stories crept through the fissures like eels, slipping through their fingers before they could control them. It hadn’t taken long for gossip to spread that the iron-gripped Eye of Zaun was indeed a man with a vulnerability called Edain.

“If the risks are too—“

“I thought we’d moved past doubts?”

Silco set his glass down gently before bringing his other hand to rest over hers.

“It is not a matter of doubts,” he slid his hand to her wrist, gently drew it to his lips and press a steady kiss to her palm. “No fragment of me questions your affection. As you should never mine–not for a fucking instant, Edain.” he still said her name like a revelation and soften unmarred eye to gaze into her as a man devoted, a man aware of the wolves he’d ushered to their now shared door. “There are hazards. Realities–”

“Realities I’m prepared to face so we might make a life together,” she whispered across to him.

“ My love ,” he bestowed the honorific with ease, the low timbre of his voice crackling with something desperate, something wanting. “This world has tattered me. Left me suspicious when it shows generosity. Your choosing to....There are darker edges of our Zaun than I ever wish you to witness. Darker patches within me.”

The soft strings faded their warm melody as the record continued, and Edain saw the small sigh that escaped her lover as the new tune began. She knew it instantly, soft piano blending deliciously with plucked strings. The song they’d danced to, knife to knife, when she still dreamed of escaping Zaun and his hair was not so painted with silver. Surely the viciousness of Silco’s enemies was worth the heat of the memories, the heartbreaking earnestness in his stare, the knowledge he never wished for her to doubt his true and utter devotion.

“I know this. Welcome this,” his lover leaned forward, slid her hands from beneath his and cupped the soft side of his face. Her heart thundered as he leaned into the touch, closed his good eye, brushing his sharp nose against the palm he’d kissed. “Now, Eye of Zaun,” she smiled crookedly as he allowed her to guide his chin so they might stare into each other. “Will you and your dark patches ever ask me to dance?”

Instantly she was lifted from her chair by the waist. The music seemed to drown under the percussion of her heart as a sinewy arm spread across her back, pulled her flushed body against his. She let him lead her, relinquishing her stubbornness to a man who’d earned her trust and fidelity. This man, who could hum to the rhythm of Zaun’s heart as well as he could hers, who knew the intricacies of her dreams because he listened , who could be content to sit and read at her side for hours. Whose racing pulse she could feel as her thumb circled his thin wrist where he held one arm outstretched.

He swayed her orderly, assuredly, to the grace of the music leading her to the other side of the board room amidst the company of indigenous plants and beneath the canopy of emerald and honey light. She surrendered all power as he thrust them both into the flow of the waltz with a strength he rarely showcased in her presence. Edain’s stomach tightened, warmed at the welcome feeling of his strength beneath the buckles and finely tailored garments.

There were no blades this time, no jeers, or flirtations. The sharing of their mutual devotions, of their equal passion and growing desire as they embraced one another in their journey across the room was enough to make them both dizzy and breathless.

“I’ve thought about the last night we danced here,” Edain found her voice, though it came out low, husked. “Imagined returning.”

He stopped their spinning to cup the back of her skull and press his forehead to hers just on the agonizing precipice of harshness. He held her there for a dozen haggard breaths, their devotion and lust mingling in its own waltz as the song dimmed and bled into the next.

Chills vined up her spine as he tucked himself in the hollow of her neck, his nose setting her bare skin ablaze like the feel of dragonbreath. She dipped forward in response, sliding her face against his skin. Edain breathed in the perfume of her lover, sharp bergamot and sweet smoke. She nuzzled the ridges of scar tissue along his left side, with her nose, then her lips, then the soft graze of teeth.

The arm around her waist drew her closer with enough force to release a gasp from her lips. Silco, a man of patience, a man of agonizing leisure when he wanted to torture her with anticipation, pulled her body against him like a man desperate for her warmth, for the full feel of her.

“And what have you dreamt, Edain?”

Before she could so much as open her mouth to confess, Silco captured her lips with his. It was not like the ones they usually shared. Those were tender, delicate things. Sweet scraps of intimacy. This was teeth and tongue, carnal biwitchery.

He kissed her as if famished, his tongue sliding into her mouth to find hers. He tasted of tart currant wine, the spiced warmth of cigar smoke, of need. The force of him was enrapturing, liquifying her until she spread both hands along his back, feeling her way over the tapestry of muscles along his shoulder blades. Silco spun her one last time, and pushed her against the expansive table, leaving her to stare up at him breathlessly.

“Here?” He feigned surprise, the slight hoarseness of his voice and tightening of his body exposing his longing. “In the light of our nation? Upon this table of power?”

Electricity zapped through her blood as Silco loomed over her, capturing her in a kiss that would surely bruise. She gasped against his unforgiving lips as a knee pushed her legs apart and settled at the apex of her desire.

“Yes,” she released a moan at the back of her throat as drew his large hands over her neck to trace her collarbone and then the aching outline of her breasts.“Please…” but her plea remained unspoken as his caress of her breast intensified, sending her eyes shut and a gasp from her lips. “Tortuous,” she whispered with a yearning thrust against the sharp end of his knee. He leaned to press his mouth to her ear. She thrilled to hear the sound of a rare low chuckle through a gasp.

“Deny my lover?” His voice was velvet, warm breath against her ear sending shivers across her skin. “I am a cruel man.” He paused to nip at her ear, the thrill of sharp teeth stoking the embers low in her belly. “Hmm,” the rumble of his voice vibrated against her chest as he slid a slow, measured fingers to grab at her hips, to massage her thighs and finally dip between her legs, making her back arch. “Such salacious fantasies,” those clever hands pulled at her undergarments, circled her sex with agonizing leisure.

He chuckled again to feel her squirm as he built toward her pleasure–teasing her, preparing her, nimble fingers adjusting pressure and speed, before thrusting two inside of her, just deep enough to make her moan and rock against him.

“Since we danced blade to blade? Dreaming of how I would take you, leave you breathless in this room? Have you imagined it?” He nipped at her ear once more, harder this time, but still harmless, still measured. “As I have?”

“Silco.” She nodded, knocking their teeth together as she tipped up into her own bold and bruising kiss, sending a surprised sigh to waft over her cheek. As she pulled away she hoped he’d see the fire behind her gaze, matching his own. Hoped he knew not to be gentle this time, that she had no interest in making love tenderly that evening.“I’ve imagined it a hundred times. And I expect you to live up to dreams.”

“Who am I,” he undid the buttons of his trousers without taking his eyes off of her “to refuse such a challenge, such a delight.”

Swiftly he pulled her under garment free from her thighs, discarding the silk to the floor. He took a moment to gaze down at her with a wolfish look, drinking in the sight of her, before plunging into her in one smooth motion. A startled but euphoric gasp released from Edain as he drove into her with an unrestrained vigor, with a power he’d always restrained.

He was often a fairly gentle lover, especially when their hearts had been fragile. He proved himself a versatile partner as he unbridled his desires, denying her nothing as the man thrust into her further, harder, more mercilessly than before. He’d deciphered her gaze, knew the hungers of her body, her unconditional desire for him.

Emboldened by her small thrusts against him, Silco drew his hands over her wrists and pressed them against the slick table, pinning her down with a wild strength rarely manifested in their bedroom. She released a small cry at the back of her throat as he kissed at her neck, nipped at her jaw, continuing thrusts so wanton, so ruthless, it threatened to drive her very soul into the verdant glow above them.

Moans of shocked rapture blended with his heated gasps, echoing through the high ceilings as Silco slowed only briefly to pull out of her, almost completely, before plunging once more, deeper, angling himself both for his own pleasure as well as hers.

“Fuck,” she closed her eyes, heralding a haze of constellations behind her eyelids. “Silco that’s…” An invariably clever and giving lover, Silco continued his steady rhythm at the angle that made her mouth fall open in ecstasy. He remained there, releasing his own ardent moans, fingers spread against her and caging her, his body relentless in its chase for ultimate pleasure. The current dragged her into its depths, dragging her beneath in a sea of starlight, swirling her with an unforgiving but entirely welcome force. Building, building, bursting.

Silco’s lips seized hers as she released an enraptured cry. He tensed, not allowing himself to come undone to the sounds of her satisfaction.

He continued his work of her as she opened her eyes to reveal a man unraveled, disobedient slices of ink and starlight hair falling into his face, unblemished eye closed and the other glowing–blinded but ever watchful with it’s magma glow. Lost was his precision as his thrusts came shorter, almost frantic, airing on desperate. He tucked his face in the valley of her neck once more, searing breath grazing over her as he drove a final profound thrust and released his own breaking gasp.

The moment his hands ceased their intense press of hers, Edain tipped forward to pull his face to hers by the golden embroidered collar and kiss him with matched passion. She held him by the jaw as he relaxed over her, his breaths slowing steadily as the mist of carnal delight dissipated. She rubbed her thumb along his cheek bones, marveled at the beauty of the asymmetry, the dark patches of skin revealed as her finger smudged the medicinal concealer he wore like armor. Silco lay his skull against hers as she continued her tender caresses, their chests rising and falling together as their heart beats slowed.

They were a partnership as much as they were lovers. He knew the fiddling of her rings revealed her anxious heart, she knew the grind of his teeth in the night meant his mind was troubled. He knew she needed regular moments to commune with friends, that she detested being interrupted when concentrating, that she liked dahlias and spiced rolls and never longed for much more than intellectual conversations and the comfort of another’s presence. She knew he needed time in the quiet to properly think, to rejuvenate, and that in the end he preferred if she was there to enjoy the peace with him.

Their intimacy was a pastry layered lovely thing. A bloom still opening but with unwaveringly sturdy roots.

“I want you to join the next assembly,” his unexpected words released as a rasp and she thrilled to feel the vibration of his words as they lay chest to chest.

“You’ve always insisted it's dangerous.” Edain nuzzled her nose against his, waited as her lover drew his hand to cup her jaw.

“That’s not changed. But your voice is a necessity,” Silco slid a thumb over her chin delicately, his earlier mercilessness melted to gentilty once more. “As much as you dislike politics, the university of Zaun’s creator must be welcomed into meetings of authority.” He nodded, bits of his hair tickling her forehead. “It is….a risk.” He leaned to press his mouth against her ear, allowing his voice to drop to an almost growling whisper. “Take pleasure in knowing that from this evening onward whenever I step into this room, I shall be drawn back to this night, these sweet delights, and the thought of you."

“Hmm,” she hummed into the warm space between them. “I’ll think about it.”

[truthandadare]

AHHHHHHHH IM CRYING 😭😻 She’s PERFECT @kikiiswashere thank you so freakin much for the kindest words and just beautiful art AHHHH

The colors! Her hair! CHICKEN! The journal!!! 😭😭I can’t get over it and while I’m usually on the verbose side, I can’t find enough to describe how happy this makes me 😽😽

Thank you to infinity and back Kiki 💗💗💗

Slowly working my through some of my favorite Arcane OCs/Reader inserts.

Today I present Edain Penner from @truthandadare’s magnum opus ‘Symmetry’. (Plus Chicken the Sphynx that skulks around The Last Drop)

It is one of my most favorite stories. It is so beautifully written, the characters (both canon and new) so fully realized and engaging . . . Auntie’s writing truly inspires me. If you haven’t checked it out yet, YOU MUST.

Done, again, with traditional mediums: graphite, ink, and colored pencil. Below is a progress picture ❤️