👶⌛

              battle dancing is one of the things he took pride in,     one of the things he has honed,     not simply out of mere interest,     but because it is interwoven with the care of his being.      dancing is freedom.     freedom is dancing.     to have one with the other is naught but a lie     (   a carefully constructed concept that would be forsaken,     for it is a mere imitation of the art,     albeit lacking soul   ).     that is his rationale for why kayn does this.     why kayn continues to train without breaking sweat,     why he perceives kayn to push himself to his limits,     why he believes kayn explains it to him,    &    despite how exhaustive it may be,     sheepish grin is all that is offered     ———     forgive him,     he hasn't processed all that information.

              ❛     right,     right,     so     ...     ❜     digits curl right against his chin,     lips coming to form a small pout,     brows furrowed as he attempts to regurgitate kayn's information to him.     ❛     you do that so that they can     ...     ❜     trails off into silence,     humming.     a shrug is offered in place of a verbal answer.     ❛     i dunno,     fall   ?     ❜     this is a mess.       ///       @shadowhelmed​

pit's king.     ///     halvett.

          “   PEOPLE   SAY   THEY   DON’T   LIKE   violence ,   ”   begins   Sett   as   though   speaking   to   the   elements ,   whichever   one   of   them   may   be   willing   to   listen   ———   and   rubs   his   knuckles   against   his   palm ,   “   but   they   all   watch .   ”   And   sure   enough   it   feels   like   someone   has   been   watching   him   drag   the   faces   of   some   smart - asses   (   should   he   even   bother   calling   them   muggers ?   Cowards ,   maybe ,   nothing   more   than   that   )   through   mud   of   the   cold   city   streets ,   all   stealthy   and   secretive   in   a   way   Sett   is   far   from   familiar   with .   He   stands   to   his   full   height   again ,   hands   clenched   into   fists .  

          “   SO   WHOEVER’S   OUT   HERE   GETTIN’   an   eyeful   ‘a   this   better   say   hello .   I   was   never   good   at   hide   ‘n   seek .   ”

⇢  SETT  &  RAKAN .    /    @feyquil​ .    /    STARTER   CALL . ( FT . A CANON QUOTE . )

              watch they do.     to marvel at the spectacle of violence is to become a part of the audience,     witnessing knuckles coming into contact with another's face,     knocking out a tooth or two,     it's unique to that type of performance.     it is a dance that requires brute strength,     burly individuals that could easily instill fear into a layperson.     who better at this fatal dance than the king of the pit,     the boss everyone has whispered on    &    on about for his strength   ?     (   what show he truly puts on.     a meat head to the very end of coincidental confrontation.   )     sett's dance     ...     is it calculated,     or is it blind rage that overcomes his being   ?     curiosity may kill the cat,     but a bird's vantage comes from flight alone.

              ❛     not good at hide 'n seek   ?     ❜     finally,     he speaks,     blessing very atmosphere with his voice once more.     talking is his forte,     one of many gifts.     ❛     probably 'cause you're not supposed to punch those you find.     ❜     around the corner    &    he's in full view,     grin plastered on his lips.     mischievous.     not looking for trouble,     but to thank for the show.     or is silent appreciation far superior   ?     ❛     you did a number on those guys,     though.     not bad   !     i'm impressed.     ❜     despite his praise,     distance is maintained.     albeit rakan holds confidence for his own escape tactics,     he opts to be careful around the boss.     /     to become his enemy is to take part of the play,     to be on his stage.     this deadly dance is not for him.     not yet.

OH YEAH btw i............am thinking on a fe3h verse for rakan. n i’ve thought about it for a bit, and think that i’ve decided to make him a part of the leicester alliance! whether he’s of noble blood or not idk yet bc......i’d love to give him a crest that could prevent counter attacks sometimes, u feel me? n also. i know u have to choose your unit to make a dancer but rakan’s already a dancer unit and u can’t tell me otherwise! OH AND. ALSO. i’m gonna make him a mage bc i don’t think there’s anything he could be better at than reason and faith magic? ( he’s probably more adept with faith than reason, i’d say ) i’m gonna go ahead n say he can’t be recruited into edelgard’s house unless xayah’s there but. u know. LFDJHFDH

rengar.     ///     prxdestvkler.

The male watched, a gaze of blue and gold, following the elegant movements of Rakan. Even his feathered facial features moved strangely as his thoughts shifted in his head. Rengar did not know what to really think of the other vastayan. They were vastly differently in appearance even despite their magic being of the same earth and ground. Vastayans were of all kinds and variations.  “You dance,” The feline spoke low, a cold rumble deep within his throat, “and I hunt but all for the same reason. It allows us to become what we are and what we should be.” His long tail curled idly, swiping across the tall grass and Rengar sniffed.  “If you think I need to learn such brandish moves then I would show you the strength of my claws. I do not need to twitter like a bird nor flaunt the color of my pelt.” The words curled his upper lip, teeth sharp with saliva and yellowed with age. 

              how different they were,     indeed   !     each physical attribute marked them vastly distinct from one another,     feathers dissimilar to the fur rengar doned.     rakan's clean    &    deceptively shiny pearly whites     (   a necessity to deliver charming grins,     for he is a charmer,     first    &    foremost   ),     even the near human qualities rakan possessed marked them different enough.     is it a shame that similarities are little to none   ?     no,     no,     that only makes things amusing for him.     the more differences,     the merrier,     he'd argue.

              ❛     man,     you sound old,     focusing on the attack if anything.     ❜     though not useless.     knowing one's way around a battle is a necessity.     spontaneous is that type of encounter,     albeit expecting the unexpected is a norm he's sure both of them have adopted.     what's entertaining    &    what's done for survival,     for sport,     are they truly as different as he perceives them to be   ?     ❛     buuut,     not bad.     you're right.     you do what you need to,     just to be the best version of yourself.     that's why i dance.     it's fun   !     ❜

so which one of y’alls muses is a corrupted star guardian..............anyone?

sylas.     ///     fraying.

          𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄,   𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑,   𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋,   𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 …     the wolf’s teeth snap around the wings of a bird.   it chews through feather and flesh and sinew and bone,   the crunch so loud;   but the screech,   the lark - song of distress,   drowns out all growls of hunger and whistling of weeping willows.   the wolf leaves the bird with its broken wing alive,   for someone else to eat,   for wolves do not hunt birds for feed,   so all that is left is for sport.

“      tell me about these people of yours.     ”

demacia does not hold many vastaya within their ranks,   their innate connection to magic making them much too close to the very thing the land detests the most,   and thus books of knowledge or gossip of old holds little more power than a candle to the fire sylas desires to start.

he folds a hand beneath chin,   resting elbow on knee.   golden chains are collected in lap,   heavy and familiar and a constant but awful reminder of the burdens placed upon a young boy’s shoulders.   sylas blinks slowly,   wolf - ish eyes squinting into a glare,   and despite the rays partially blinding him the evening sun is pleasantly warm against his skin.

summer in ionia is different than it is in demacia,   he muses,   for they need not worry about the cold draft brought in from the north.

“     the lhotlan vastaya.   i have heard of your wings and naught else.   tell me,   does everyone participate in the art of battle - dance,   or is it just the ostentatious few ?     ”

@feyquil          /          starter call.

              BUT OH,     MALEVOLENT WOLF WHOSE GAPING MAW bares blood of flightless bird,     what is folly if not the half - assed action   ?     intent not to feed,     intent not to sate infinitesimal hunger,     it was all for sport,     yet only a song of distress escaped nightingale     ——     what of its swan song   ?     on his stage     (   the stage you have so dared walk on   ),     such performance is averted from gaze of a predator.     fractured wing shall never be graced with flight's song anew,     fractured wing must accept fate's cruel truth    :    deprivation of freedom,     deprivation of flight   !!     oh,     dear wolf,     finish what is started,     for revenge's guiding light shall not mend aching wing,     albeit it shall grant tools to return favor    ;    wolf,     wolf,     a predator needs not its eyes to hunt.

              revolutionary who bears magic with natural ease intrigued him,     for tales have been whispered of     (   the unshackled wolf,     free from the cage that once barred gift of magic     —     like a bird that sought freedom    &    found its calling despite its clipped wings   ),     fear    &    admiration stirred for one that is at forefront of pivotal rebellion.     what is rakan to make of this   ?     verily,     some humans possessed natural affinity for magic,     thereby the silencing of this one's gift not too different from his own cause he so voraciously devoted himself to.

              a gray area is conjured at the conception of such a thought    :    whilst their relations clung onto appearance of being amicable,     was that truth itself   ?     is he to doubt one whose aspirations align with his own   ?     or shall admiration be exhibited through look    &    actions   ?     he doesn't know.

              perchance it's the cant of his head the denotes initial confusion,     only to be cleared up at mage's clarification of his query.     though the sun continues to set beyond horizon,     its dying rays paving way for glimmering moonlight's rise from opposite direction,     rakan's features brighten up with raised brows    &    momentary open - mouthed smile     (   soon closes into regular grin,     for those pearly whites may show some form of aggression     ———     something he wishes to avoid with his ' guest '   ),     they are enough to rival the radiant sun that elates ionia's people.     as rakan sits cross - legged,     elbows resting on either knee,     his posture shifts with intrigue,     leaning forward a bit,     maybe too eager to talk.

              what better is he at than talking,     after all   ?

              ❛     not everyone's as great at battle - dancing as i am,     that's one thing we've gotta get settled.     ❜     much too confident statement delivered without any thought on repercussions of his words.     just like him.     ❛     not everyone participates in it,     not as far as i'm aware.     ❜     source of knowledge for his own tribe   ?     probably not.     ❛     i like to think of it as an art.     the best art that comes from it are the bodacious ones   !     the ones who put heart    &    into their battle - dancing.     you need the flow of battle,     the flow of rhythm,    &    the HEART of magic.     ❜     at least,     that's what his style has embodied.

im gonna try smth…… ♥ this post so i can hop in ur IMs to try & discuss character dynamics between rakan and ur muse(s)!

Rakan is a Tall Boy, and @feyquil ‘s got me feeing some sort of way...

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@oceanbrings​ said :   She is just going to admire his cape/wing and the beautiful feathers.

              ❛     take all the time you need,     ❜     is it his method of calling her out   ?     perhaps.     whether or not her gaze towards his feathers was meant to be stealthy or not,     he didn't really care.     her admiration of these beauteous,     nearly glimmering feathers was the attention he craved,     the eyes of his audience that he so performed for.     who could blame her for staring   ?     ❛     you aren't the first one to admire my feathers,     definitely not the last.     so tell me when you're all good   !     oh,    &    feel free to touch,     by the way.     they're as soft as they look.     ❜     is this all fueling his pride   ?     definitely.     is he going to make an effort to cease her stare   ?     nope,     why cease what he can't control.     (   if his beauty is truly so captivating others will stop to marvel at him,     is he the perpetrator   ?     or should they return to staring at the mundane activity they were previously caught up in   ?   )

lillia.     ///     herdream.

❛  oh … s - so you don’t  —  ❜  if her long droopy ears could drop any further they did now, despite being told she shouldn’t feel embarrassed —  how could she not? such a stupid question, lillia! stupid, stupid, st    —   ❛  l - lillia … my name’s lillia. ❜  she shares, ❛  is the … n - no. are the humans in your dream … truly like that?  ❜  a sudden question, but it gives way into the innocent curiosity that fuels violet hues. ❛  your dreams … they are warm, a - and so much fun! but … the humans … they make them … cold. are … are the humans … cold … ?  ❜

oh, how she wanted to learn about the world just outside the outskirts of these trees! but she remained here, alone amongst the wildlife  &  the dreams that greet her. so many dreams, sad, joyous. dark … so many dark dreams —  she was surprised when this person had managed to find her, even when she hid so well behind the trees  &  amongst the willowy branches … he found her!

              if he were oblivious to her sudden tonal shift,     to the underlying melancholy that's embellished within every syllable,     would he truly be rakan   ?     certainly not   !     attuned to his own sentiments grants him ability     (   if one could even call it that,     of course   )     to discern the emotions of others     ——     comes with his natural beauty,     what can he say   ?     that's all he needs to change his goal,     to uplift her spirits,     he's a charmer,     an entertainer,     what more does he need than his audience to smile for him   ?

              ❛     pleasured to meet you,     lillia   !     i'm sure you've heard of me,     ❜     confidence exudes from the smirk that grows onto his lips,     hand extended towards her,     albeit making certain to not so much as touch her.     his hope of her shaking his hand comes from the expectation she'll reach out.     scaring her away is not his intention,     to move about meticulously    &    carefully     ...     almost like a dance,     with a few extra steps.     ❛     but,     if you haven't     ...     rrrrakan,     ❜     emphasis on rolling the r sound,     simple effort to elicit even the smallest laugh,     the kindest smile.     ❛    the charmer,     the life of the party,     the most beautiful thing you'll ever see   !     ❜     hearty chuckle,     even if it's a slight one.

              ❛     as for the humans     ...     ❜     how peculiar.     that feeling of dreaming,     that feeling of conversing with another about a certain topic,     doing specific actions     ————     only for it to be mimicked in the real world,     a strong sense of familiarity,     have they met   ?     no,     no,     he's certain they haven't.     ❛     feel like i've told someone this before.     humans aren't bad,     ❜     is that the truth   ?     or is it merely a conjured lie perceived as reality   ?     some were good,     some held malevolent intentions,     whose fault is that   ?     ❛    but some of them     ...     ❜     how somber it felt now,     each word.     eyebrows furrowed,     lips pursed,     sky blue hues shifting towards extended hand,     thinking.     full of joy,     though he knows of the cruelty some display.     averting his eyes to that would not do him well.     thankfully,     he catches himself,     shakes his head    &    a bonafide grin grows onto his lips as his focus remains on lillia's eyes,     like soft lavender they were.     ❛     it's a long,     long story.     i'll just say they,     uh,     fear something they know nothing about.     magic.     you know about magic,     right lillia   ?     ❜