visuus

[visuus]

"i am home, my dearest." the tyrant had been out of noxus prime in a particular frontline, teaching the enemies of the empire lessons about fear --- teaching them bending the knee was / always / the wisest idea. it's interesting that one of his first stops after is by the hemomancer's manor, not an ounce of care about possible questionings. most know by now not to ask about his personal affairs. flesh hand coming to vlad's chin, he tilts it upwards, half smiling. "now, how have you behaved?"

Vladimir is an unpredictable man, wild and capricious and utterly fickle, but when the tyrant comes to call, he makes certain to be present, and to devote his full attention to Noxus’s esteemed leader.  Swain is the single most influential man in Runeterra these days, thanks to his expansionist campaign and the growing influence of the demon within him, and his time is a precious commodity, so it’s no surprise that the frequency with which he extends it to Vladimir has the blood mage preening.  It hurts none that the man knows full well precisely how to poke and prod at the hemomancer to yield the reactions he needs, when to offer the carrot and when to apply the stick - and that he has come to understand that with Vladimir, the carrot is almost always more effective. 

And what a treat Swain offers, sweeping into Vladimir’s parlor as he does with words of endearment falling from his lips like the sweetest venom.  They both know that home means Noxus itself, but Vladimir does not miss the insinuation that his own manor is just as familiar and as comfortable for the grand general.  Jericho extends a hand of flesh and blood to grip at the blood mage’s jaw, and the gesture puts one in mind of a man admiring a prized lapdog - fond and even affectionate, but undeniably possessive, and with a clear understanding of his own superiority.  

Even so, Vladimir stretches under Swain’s attentions, very nearly catlike as his eyes narrow and he leans into that touch without a hint of shame.  “That all depends, my love,” he murmurs in return, a grin that’s both playful and reverent stretching across his face.  “On whose standards we’re applying.”  He pauses, then presses in close, a hand of his own winding boldly around the grand general’s waist.  His voice is soft with laughter as he continues in a whisper against the side of Swain’s neck.

“If we’re being honest, we both know that the answer is always that I’ve behaved poorly.  Really, though - would you have me any other way?”

[visuus]

∅

Send ∅ for Vlad’s opinion on your muse || Accepting

“Our esteemed leader?  Why, he’s remarkable.”  There’s a slow, deliberate drawl to Vladimir’s words, but his smile is strangely muted, as though he’s attempting to be on his best behavior - or perhaps, perish the thought, he’s actually being genuine.  “He’s cunning, intelligent, and positively overflowing with power unlike any I’ve seen in centuries.  He deposed that dull old fool and made this nation interesting again, and for that I’ll always be grateful.  He even managed to outmaneuver the matron, and that’s no small feat.”  His crimson eyes are dancing with amusement, but there’s something a touch deeper there, an interest far more intense than he’s letting on.

“True, there are some that call him tyrant, but they’re small-minded folk - and mortals, at that.”  The hemomancer waves a dismissive hand with a curl of his lip, as though he’s swatting away mere gnats, rather than the anguished cries of an entire continent.  “They simply lack… vision,” he adds, and can’t resist a chuckle at his own joke.  

[visuus]

Each morning I wake up a little crueler. Each morning my heart is

a vulture beating its wings for scraps.

Each morning it’s                                 happy birthday from the bottom of a river.

— Ruth Awad, from “Bassam,” published in BOAAT

[visuus]

∅

send  ∅ for jericho’s opinion on your muse | @tiidecallingnot accepting.

he has heard of the vastaya, witnessed some of their ways in ionia and now, with his gaze reaching far beyond what any mortal man should—the marai and their struggles were not unknown to the raven’s eye, though they had never been presented as a priority in his agenda. as far as he cares to know, whether the marai live or die, whether their heroine comes to manage replacing the moonstone---

none of it concerns the visionary.

“a curious creature. her quest to preserve her kind is admirable, though i fear it may perhaps be in vain.” the way he words it makes it almost sound as if he’s not balancing the fate of many innocent folk on a sentence intoned almost vapidly. 

[visuus]

∅ :3

Send ∅ for Swain’s opinion on your muse || Accepting

The older of the Swains spreads his hands in a shrug that might be exasperated, but for the wry smile that tugs at his lips.  “There is not much to be said that I’ve not already told you countless times across the years.”  His eyes glimmer with amusement, a hint of the more playful side that only his other half has ever been privileged to see.  “Fortunately, you are a topic I’ll never grow weary of.”

Korbin furrows his brows in exaggerated thoughtfulness as he taps his own chin.  “The only trouble is where to begin.  My gratitude for the generosity that saved my life when I was young and hopelessly alone in a strange land? My admiration for the wit and determination that has seen the both of us through untold adversity? My awe at the resilience you’ve demonstrated in the face of catastrophe the likes of which most have never known?”  He steps closer, looking up at the taller man with grin gone downright roguish.  “You know very well that I could speak for hours of my fondness for the sight of you - in the mornings, mussed and weary, in the evenings, drawn and spent - or the sound of this name we chose for me upon your lips.”  

Korbin reaches up to trace a thumb over the Grand General’s jaw, and they’re human hands for now, keratin and feathers all tucked away for the sake of their company, but the amusement in his eyes is as sharp as any of his claws.  “But some things should be kept private, hm?”

[visuus]

I’m told to be open to the possibility of not being a monster, not a thing rummaged from under a bed.

— Hieu Minh Nguyen, from “Again, Let Me Explain Again,” Not Here

[visuus]

∅ :eyes:

send  ∅ for jericho’s opinion on your muse | @transvcrtonot accepting.

“QUITE THE CURIOUS ONE, vivian.”

the statement comes from him with ease. he’s never been shy about his opinions, though in this case, speaking of the eldritch so casually should seem daunting. still, after all he’s witnessed and been through, it hardly seems to befit him, excessive surprise at face of the supernatural. he tamed demons, his blood withheld magic since birth — surely she seemed to be a primordial sort of entity, but that still meant he hardly felt truly out of his depth.

perhaps it was arrogance, perhaps it’d be his hubris, to be so eerily comfortable before her, but only time would tell. 

“she seems intent on seducing me for her own purposes,” and he uses the term loosely, with no apparent malice as he continues on. “but she has yet to convince me this pact of hers would truly aid me in my ambitions as she so boldly claims it would.”

[visuus]

∅

send  ∅ for jericho’s opinion on your muse | @noxianroseaccepting.

THE MATRON OF THE BLACK ROSE, the fabled & infamous pale woman that nearly costed him both his life and purpose, that costed him more torment than any other factor in his life; she’s a rose with all its thorns untouched, beautifully deceptive with her petals in full bloom. this woman is intriguing in the way most poisonous, noxious creatures are --- graceful to the eye, but deadly to the touch. 

he knows all of that, and yet he offers her a measured quirk of his lips, those ravenlike eyes upon the deceiver.

“once you were a thorn by my side, dear guile, as i am sure you aimed to be,” his tone is almost silky despite the animosity it suggests, a touch amused even. between the two of them, there’s plenty of room for lies but there is also plenty of room for bluntness; he would not do her the disservice of underestimating her wits with meaningless pretense. “perhaps i would say you aimed for more---instead of thorn, you would have rather been a dagger.” the chosen words are heavy but they are uttered in a way that almost make them seem humorous. 

a pause, he vaguely gestures towards the room around them, their seats in the council of the trifarix. he knows how little this ruse of a truce between guile and vision may mean in the long run, but it doesn’t mean it needs to be undermined by the very man who suggested it.

“one could certainly admire just what a long way we have come through frustrating one another, would you disagree?”

[visuus]

∅ (TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT KORBIN, JERICHO. 8)))) )

send ∅ for jericho’s opinion on your muse | @impeccable-decisionaccepting.

AN EYEBROW QUIRKED at the sudden inquiry, swain seems to be surprised anyone would be bold enough to ask. his right hand man, his other half, his most loyal companion—what words were there to offer to him that he had not already uttered in between them? what could he possibly say that had already not been said? the half-vastayan had been with him through thick and thin, through glory and disgrace, through nearly every single relevant moment of his story he could possibly think of.

unblinking red eyes upon the questioning fellow, he shifts his gaze from then to the older, shorter man. a smile graces his lips and while it is a faint thing, it seems truly appreciative, a sight rare coming from the demon general.

how dangerous indeed, this need for sincerity he feels. 

“korbin is certainly one of the most invaluable men i’ve had the honor to meet,” praise as obvious as the one he offers to his hand is almost unheard of spilling past his lips. a difficult, hardened man as jericho hardly cares to be flattering to the unworthy and as he’s come to notice in his mission to cleanse his nation of its corruption, those sadly outnumbered their opposite. “his sheer value to the establishment of this new era we plan to usher forth for the empire is incalculable; had he not been a man of such worth, perhaps all my efforts would’ve been for naught.”

[visuus]

Send ∅ for my muse's opinion about yours.

[visuus]

I am a book of apocalypses written in a language I don’t speak and I have no author.

Hélène Cixous, from Reveries of the Wild Woman: Primal Scenes (Northwestern University Press, 2006)

[visuus]

#[ hi hello i'll never let go of wraith verse ]#[ let these two work together to bring noxus to Good Standing ] Hello I just wanted to say that I, too, love Wraith Verse Swain. Thank you so much for making him!

wraith!swain is a funny sort of bittersweet verse i have with @eciled and i frankly enjoy writing him as sadly hopeless the poor guy sure gets. sure karma had to bite him in the ass for all the stuff he did, but boy, did it choose to bite hard.

but hey, anon! i’m really glad to know you like him.

[visuus]

❛ I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived. ❜

deathless sentence meme | @impeccable-decisionaccepting.

THIS COUNTERPART OF HIS seems to hold many similarities in views and posture despite the obvious differences they hold at surface level. their tales are different, he has so learnt, but he can easily relate, easily grasp what the other speaks of---with all that life has both given and taken from him, he knows bitterness, he knows how life morphs into the most unexpected scenarios in the blink of an eye. from a highborne sheep, to a decorated veteran, to an outcast, to the vision. so many ways his tale could’ve gone and yet, despite how sinuous a road it had been, it had driven him exactly where he should’ve ended. 

curious yet, how he’d not dare to attribute it to fate. he knows how many machinations were involved, how much he struggled and fought to reach where he now stood; he’d not undermine it by pinning it on fate. picking his piece from the board at his turn on their shared boardgame (apparently, yet another thing they both held dear, a taste befitting of strategists like themselves), he makes his move as he hums, murky red eyes meeting gold.

“that, my friend,” the clinking of the marble against wood is satisfying, but it takes nothing away from the knowing look the younger of the two holds as he keeps his gaze leveled with the master tactician’s. “---is a wise statement. as long as that bitterness does not blind one from true purpose, then it is merely mark of those who have seen enough not to bear to remain naïve.”

[visuus]

❛ It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be. ❜

deathless sentence meme | @transvcrtoaccepting.

THE WAY SHE SPEAKS OF CRUELTY feels less like a threat and more like advertisement to the grand general. cruelty was a tool far too underappreciated, he’d wager --- and my, if he did not find good uses for it in his schemes. the creature that lurks by and speaks to him now wants a pact, this much he knows already, and this is but a way of getting her point across. he seems entertained by it, in all truth, sharp gaze upon her shadowy figure.

“vivian, is it not?”

he asks, tone cordial but cold. he minds none of her meddling with his pet raven, the creature but a conduit to his pact with the demon by now. she caws in protest as she’s unceremoniously picked up by the chaotic entity and he seems not to bat an eyelash to it. he knows nothing done to to the raven’s body would harm it truly, what with the thing’s ability of pulling itself back together from disfiguration and disembowelment. 

“you certainly seem keen on drawing me to your terms.” he starts, simple, casual enough one hardly imagines he’s talking about a pact with yet another eldritch entity. he shifts on his seat, crosses his bad leg over his good one for comfort and for a moment, he seems almost pensive---though that, too, is merely to get a point across. “i do wonder, however, what is it that you gain from it.                                      see, i like my deals made clear.”

[visuus]

“everything will fall into place.”

5 WORDS.( accepting ) / @visuus

She could be seen PICKING at his bird– which had been perched comfortably nearby until she came to join them. Crimson digit prodding it’s CHEST, or tapping it’s beak, as she leaned against her palm. Boredom was a pain that she could never seem to free herself of, like the common cold it came back to her and made her MELANCHOLIC. 

Breath drawn, she PLUCKS a dark feather from a furious Beatrice. Who no doubt snaps and flies away to the safety of it’s master.

“ Yes. ” she sighs. “ AFTER of course you take the proper steps. ” she leans even further forward, more weight resting against her hand– hair draping through her fingers. “ Which may take years– DECADES at the rate you’re going… ”

Expression turns sly, snake - like, dark…

   “ — UNLESS of course, you have me to further your ambition. ”

[visuus]

❛ Oh, quit that. ❜

deathless sentence meme | @eciledaccepting.

the wraith watches the grand general with a humorless look to his face, hovering about her side in her office. she’s probably talking of his sudden entrances, ones that are nearly always accompanied by a gust of cold wind and that likely feel... exaggerated, but are hardly his doing. the eldritch presence of the demon gone from his own soul, his knack for the dark arts still made him a quite classic, powerful poltergeist. 

“quit what, precisely--- being a ghost or showing up to your presence, fury? if it is the first, i have to tell you this entirely consequence of your own doing.”

there’s a sliver of amusement in the way he words himself, but the look he sports on his face is as nonchalant as it gets; there are no lies told in his speech. had she killed him elsewhere, even, perhaps he would not be restricted to a constant haunting in the bastion’s halls, but as it stands, the demon desired his fate to be so. surely, now it had been sealed by them both the punishment should’ve waned, but alas, not all in dark magic works as intended.

at the following sentence, he does offer her a bleak little lopsided smile, much similar to a smirk. “a pity, too, if it is the second. i was starting to believe you were beginning to enjoymy presence.”

[visuus]

❛ I am a demanding creature. ❜

deathless sentence meme | @hedonisthemomanceraccepting.

most people would be concerned at such a statement coming from the hemomancer himself, most of all as they remain alone in the quietude of the the grand general’s office. instead of that, however, all the words bring out of jericho is a subtle, nearly mocking smile as he crosses bad leg over his good one on the settee, perching his face over a gloved, flesh-made hand as he studies the blood mage with those unreadable, all-seeing eyes.

it’s silence that befalls the room, thick as a blanket as eye contact doesn’t break. he expects the other to say something else for a moment, as if gauging him; when he doesn’t, he stands to his feet seconds later closing their distance with in quick stride, a demonic claw coming to trace the line of the older one’s jaw with strange elegance, a second before it grasps at fair skin, making sure the mage’s eyes remain upon his. his hold isn’t brutish, no, it’s effortless, much too gentle for a hand crafted out of sheer dark energy, nothing outside the occasional prickle of something akin to simple, harmless static coming out of it. 

in truth, some would call it loving, but most know not to put associate adjective with a man like swain.it’s another long moment before he speaks, those eyes burning through as the overbearing warmth of that hand lingers against unmarred skin.

"truly, i do not know if you mean that as threat or simply as an invitation, vladimir,” he starts, tilting his head as one of his ravens would, staring as unblinking and unflinching as one of his own flock.  

      “---tell me, do you think my interest so feeble that that alone can dissuade me?”