#whisperscomeonbrokenwings

[amechanicalgirl]

"Why replace your daughter with a mockery, Corin? Is there no greater disrespect to her memory than supplanting it with a desperate imitation?"

I wasn’t myself. 

I still don’t think I am, and I don’t think I ever will be, again. 

I was a void -- empty and ready to die. Every waking moment was a constant replaying of events, over, and over, and over, and over. Things I could have done differently, things I should have done differently. It was all I could think about. 

It was the only thing I could think about.

I was alone, with only this deep, screaming never ending darkness. And I had to do something. 

I had to do something. 

I had to do something.

[lightshielded]

@luxanna-banana replied: PROTECT MY PRINCE 2019

@luxanna-banana replied: Stop letting Noxians into your inbox. Swa.in? Is that you?

‘ vermin are sneaky creatures. i did not let them in. however, i appreciate your support as always. ’

@hemopact replied: a noxian ghostwrote this

‘ i didn’t think noxians could write. ’

@ladybuvelle replied: *presses W a few times*

‘ your music is always soothing. thank you. ’

@whisperscomeonbrokenwings replied: sw.ain vc: no no no my dear anon, if this fool dies, demacia may actually find competent replacement. we certainly can't have that, now can we?

‘ one day you will be competent enough to remember that i do not lead my nation nor am i guaranteed to be granted ascension to the throne come my father’s passing. ’

[essence-flux-primed]

He places the side of his demonic pointer finger under the explorer's chin and roughly tilts his face up with it. "Another Piltovan brat," he sneered as he sized Ezreal up. "In Noxus, children like you are fixed with a good stint in the military. A pity that the clans care not to rescue you from your callowness."

touch ezreal!

⋆ — There are a lot of people all across Valoran who would kill to be standing within striking distance of Noxus’ Grand General, whether to kill him or to shake his hand (or, unfortunately, to kiss his boots), so really Ezreal should feel honoured. That’s what the guards said. That’s what everyone said. 

    Well. Jayce said “Good luck,” and Caitlyn said “Behave,” but everyone else said he should feel honoured. The point is that he really doesn’t. There’s something about that demonic hand that Ezreal wants nowhere near his face, and the General’s smirk, and the whole humiliating deal where Ezreal has to behave. He’s already caused a ruckus in Noxus, and even though he’s confident enough in his abilities, the thought of escaping from the centre of Noxus with the entire Guard on his heels is ... exhausting. Still, his gloved hands clench at his side, and it’s actually impossible for his face not to contort into something that says I would spit on you if it didn’t mean certain death pretty clearly. 

     Seriously. He’d do it just to see that sneer falter. If it meant he could never set foot in Noxus again, it’d be worth it. 

     Ezreal takes a steadying breath, because he’s trembling from somewhere in his ribs to the tips of his fingers, and heat rushes to his ears. “It’s nice to fuckin’ meet you too,” is what he managers in the end.

[noxianhand]

// swain but alsO JAYCE THANKS FOR PLANTING THAT SHIP IN MY HEAD NOX

anonymously send me what characters you ship my muse with! accepting!

swarius is great, i already addressed that and i think most of my older followers know of it, but gods.

darius would be livid at the suggestion he gets with that little pompous piltovan prick, lm ao. nevermind he literally dates one in a couple of timelines, am i right, @jaycetechmaturgics?

[thenameoftheblade]

A raven sits hunched on the edge of a rooftop, glaring down at Talon with all six of its unsettling red eyes. It is watching to see if its master's newest pawn is doing a he has been ordered. Let us hope that that is the case, for the Grand General does not take kindly to insubordination.

Obedience or death. That was the only language Talon understood. Once more he had been forced to choose, and once more he had chosen the same answer. The assassin withdrew the blade. blood trickled down the mirrored edge. A mark chosen, another body for the gutter. Talon glanced back over his shoulder as if he had sensed eyes on his back, cold, red, unforgiving. The eyes of Noxus were always watching, nothing had changed. Except for, perhaps, he now knew something similar to hope. 

[prismatic-protector-blog]

"Jewels are the but rubbish to a soldier...but if I must choose, I would choose the garnet. Does it not resemble the blood spilt for my nation? Does it not resemble the darkness lurking within us all? Does it not represent the very essence of a man...his soul? The garnet is the most noble of jewels, for it does not distort humanity's ugliness with its garish light. It reminds us of what grotesque creatures we truly are and refuses to indulge our denial of self."

“..” Taric did not like the man, he knew who he was, and he knew what he stood for, but for now, he was no longer apart of the Demacian army, he had no motive to attack, nor would he believe he had. “Compare and contrast if you wish, Swain.” There was slight anger in his tone, “If you truly believe you are a grotesque creature, then think only of yourself, humans are more than that.. though, you are hardly human anymore..are you?” 

[noxianhand-archive]

@whisperscomeonbrokenwings​

THE CAMPAIGNS IN THE NORTHERN FRONTS brought darius little but frustration. he’s always been a man to accept challenges, but one that jeopardized noxian stability was nothing but but foul; they had little to gain from bringing the barbarians in the north to heel, little but perhaps what darkwill sought out in first place: magic, something the northerners had aplenty. he had seen through his schemes from the start, though that in itself had not been hard to do. after ionia and its massive losses, it only became clearer and clearer to the hand how deranged their emperor was becoming.

to say the coup he was greeted with back in noxus prime was a surprise was an understatement, but to say he had been displeased would be a lie. most expected him to move against jericho swain’s claim on the throne, yet----he had known the man from circumstances prior, and between him and darkwill, he seemed a far fitter ruler. 

the first time they meet after his return feels as tense as expected. he’s part of the old regimen, whether he liked it or not, and while perhaps there had been common agreement that both men held a certain amount of affinity in their views of the empire, something darius would once have dared to call much akin to friendship, as things stand, he can’t bet it’ll be enough to spare him from the consequences of having been darkwill’s hand. as he enters the war council’s room for a conversation that may reshape his life entirely, the look to the guillotine’s face is a mix of somber and solemn; he held himself like a man in his position, but weariness from all events that had recently transpired showed.

“grand general,” his tone has the same semblance of his face and this is his subtle way of acknowledging the new rule, perhaps, as he gives a light bow of his head. even if he no longer remains hand, respect is still due to those he’s come to terms with following. “i trust there’s much we must talk about.”

[shurima-demigod]

You have mail!

Letter of Diplomacy to Swain:

Noxian Grand General Jericho Swain,

     I am going to make this curt: we do not like Noxians on Shuriman soil.

     I know you have held territories in Shurima for a while, before the restoration of my nation.  I also know that most diplomatic relations with your nation are almost non-existent.  Still, I feel I must at least try.

     I never cared for war.  I do not care for a war between our nations.  But, we want our cities back, our nation united under one leader once more.  However, knowing Noxians, I doubt you will hand then back over without a fight.  But again, I am going to try.

     Return Bel’zhun to Shurima.  We can see about trading for the city if need be, but know that if not, Shurima’s armies are ready.

     I await your reply.

     -Nasus, High General of Shurima

[narcisisto]

whisperscomeonbrokenwings replied to your post “Draven it’s time for the hot or not list; go”

// 'would smash aurelion sol' draven my son you are a brave man

draven vc: only a COWARD would say no

[techmaturgist-blog]

smash or pass birb grandpa

smash or pass piltover’s poster boyaccepting.

          A moment of judgemental silence lingers between the question and answer to come, an almost irritated glint in the blue eyes that glare towards the asker. There was offense somewhere in how he felt, though the awkwardness of the situation catches Jayce off guard.

          In fact, it was one of few times he hadn’t had a witty comment to start off with. Jericho Swain, the man once casted into damnation revived by his own willpower and determination. A player on the board so dangerous, not just for his power but his intellect, that the defender could feel sick. – What could become of Piltover at the hands of that man? A WASTELAND, that much he knew.

          And yet, when put in the position to answer such a peculiar question, the hero can’t find an answer worth giving. Eventually he exhales slowly, agitated, as he rubs at the back of his neck.

          “ I suppose, if presented the opportunity, I would accept the invitation. He isn’t entirely outside of my… standards. ”

[mortulo-a]

A raven brazenly landed on the angel's shoulder and squawked loudly near where it assumed his ear would be. It followed up this effort by shuffling down Azrael's shoulder and back up again, releasing another throaty call as it completed its little dance. It hoped that that would be enough to distract the strange man while its partner darted behind him and attempted to figure out ring behind his head. They could both sense the delicious souls kept within it, but could not see how extract them.

          Azrael had always been a fan of birds, even the ones that were obnoxious or otherwise… strange. And oh, how strange this one was ( it was quite easy to tell ). The archangel reaches up to the screaming little one and a claw carefully curved around the top of its head, gently administering affection to the precious raven. His free hand extends in a manner to allow the small thing to travel into his palm, making the way his arm bends a tad less awkward. Had he noticed the other raven behind him? Likely, but he paid no mind to it. His wings only stretched outwards as though to get a tad more… comfortable.

          “ My, aren’t you a talkative thing? I do hope your nest has not abandoned you, for I do not think it would be wise to travel with me of all entities. ”

[starthathates]

A raven sits on the uppermost branch of a shrub some yards away, tilting its head to the side and eyeing the fallen angel carefully. Who is this person? Even more importantly, what was he? It finally decides to croak lightly in an attempt to attract Lucifer's gaze. Perhaps then it could get a better look for its master.

THIS MYSTERIOUS FIGURE was covered in a black, tar-like substance as it sat on the forest floor. Its wings spread out, much like any hawk’s, save for the smooth, almost flesh-like substance— a pristine white color in the back, and darkness within; save for the glowing constellations that shimmered now and then, emulating a heartbeat. It was the mirror image of the night sky, as the sun slowly set.

There, in the silence of the forest, the figure ( a man ? ) muttered softly, something akin to a prayer. The figure pried into his chest, seemingly pulling out fragments of daylight that glowed like hot cinders in the rising darkness.  From within the cracks of his chest, more golden and radiant light shone, oozing out of his chest and dripping onto the ground. Had the man felt any pain, he hid it well— allowing only more soft prayers to escape his lips. 

Had he noticed the raven, he did not react. Or perhaps he had accepted his grim fate, his only company a bird so closely associated with death. 

On the first attempt, the angel did not move. Though another croaking call later, and he directed his glowing gaze at the bird. A subtle frown was painted on his stained lips. Though the bird’s infamous nature was not unknown to Lucifer, that had not been the reason for his distrust of this raven. But rather the demonic power that coursed through its body; he knew immediately this was no ordinary raven. Perhaps he had known all along— he was being watched. 

The Devil craned his neck towards the bird, reaching out a clawed hand; as if beckoning the bird closely. His eyes shone in the darkness, like two small suns. He uttered words in an unfamiliar tongue; and yet their meaning would surely not be lost; not on any being that resided that planet— animal or man.

   ‘ My dear. Would you be so kind as to bring your master to me? ’

[ask-recon-mode-blog]

Boss Battle (either normal or project verse works!)

@whisperscomeonbrokenwings || Send me “Boss Battle”, and I’ll post the music that plays when your muse fights mine as a boss. || The lack of comma in this prompt meme makes this a little confusing for me … but either way, I figure this will appropriate whether your muse is the boss or if mine is. || Project Verse.

[voiidhunter]

Grim Details

@whisperscomeonbrokenwings

His job was incredibly draining, but it still was an important task that he had been appointed to do. Despite the health concerns to himself, Adrian would not disappoint the Void. He felt nausea rolling in his gut as he blinked himself awake, unsure how much time he'd lost when he'd fallen into unconsciousness. Every time, he chastises himself, every time the stress sends me under.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, blinking the haze from his head. He felt as though he was filled with cotton, and as such he was unhappy to move. He stumbled out of the depths of the forest with his hand feeling numb, yet his veins alight with flame. A quick glance at his left reminded him that he was still, quite literally, dripping with the Void's energy. Thick and dark the droplets splashed against the ground like old oil. Even through the glove, he could feel the tingle of its power on his skin.

He looked like death, pale and shaky, but still very much alive. He trudged through the forest with only a few trips and near-falls, but the man seemed accustomed to this. Adrian was only pulled from his thoughts when he heard a whisper of wings above his head, and he jerked his head towards the sound, a hand going to his weapon.

There, upon a mossy branch, sat a raven. For a moment, he was too bleary-eyed to notice anything remarkably strange about the creature, but the more he stared, the more the pieces clicked into place. Its eyes were wrong. They stared at him like a predator about to pick apart prey, like a spy about to gather precious secrets. Adrian could've sworn that the thing had multiple eyes, too.

He stared at for a long time, his instincts telling him to shot the damn thing, but he had no long ranged weapon. Instead, he allowed his weapon to transform into its whip form and he lashed at the branch where the creature sat. It seemed to finally caw, voice distorted and garbled before it took flight and left the area.

Adrian collapsed his weapon back into its sword-like state and frowned. There was nothing more he could do for the time being, and he needed sleep. Unwilling to quite leave the relative safety of the forest, he made camp in the nearby area, sleeping with his back against a moss-covered rock, partially hidden by the tall grass around him. The Void rumbled in his thoughts, but let him sleep.

Further away, the raven circled slowly over a familiar man before it descended with a cackle. Clawed feet landed on the man's shoulder and it leaned down from its perch to deliver its grim details.

[noxianhand-archive]

@whisperscomeonbrokenwings​, from here.

“the first you have gotten right,” darius is calm despite the subject abridging vulnerabilities. perhaps their friendship gives him a false sense of safety, perhaps he doubts he would make use of those, or that he himself would allow him to make use of it. either way, this comes as a gamble. “undeath is unsettling, it is a corruption i would much rather not go through---especially not if it comes in the pitiful fashion it did for sion.” to see a great warrior become beast is disgusting in his opinion and it is why his will demands a funeral pyre.

“now for the second, i’m afraid you’ve gotten it wrong, my friend.” there’s a pause, subtle, before he continues, his red gaze upon jericho’s own. “to be forsaken doesn’t matter as much as true dishonor. to be forsaken while having served the empire with its best in mind means nothing, as long as my actions remain and it does not lose its way. it is merely consequence of time and how it flows. now, to be dishonored, truly so---” he trails off for a moment, then shakes his head before picking the sentence back up. “for that to happen, i’d have had to have done wrong by my principles and that is a fate far worse than oblivion.”

[shurima-demigod]

∅

Send ∅ for my muse’s opinion about yours. 

“Grand General.  We do not see eye to eye.  To you, Shurima is another thing to be conquered.  For me, it is home.  I see the cities you hold, the people who follow your wishes.  I do not like you on our land, but I must respect you as a general.  Very few can do what you have done, and even less end up alive afterwards.  Were we not at odds more often then not, I would be curious to look at how your mind works.”