* M. / Ic. - Blog Posts
unprompted. / always accepting !!
@shnpo said : ?
❛ katarina, ❜ so does lhotlan speak without prior thought, hesitation's curse lost on him ; no thoughts were needed to address her, a deadly rose whose thorns could make him bleed if he got too close. her knives sharp, her words sharper, not exactly lacking on veracity with her moves ——— he's seen her rise multiple times against those that dared to challenge her, the blood they shed a crown she wore proudly, scarlet hue of her locks a warning to all that dare cross her. once again, the announcers speaks another 'ENEMY PENTAKILL!' before he speaks again. ❛ ping me one more time, & i will throw myself into the enemy team again. get fucked. ❜
unprompted. / always accepting !!
@shnpo said : {OPEN RP} hey rakan
ba ba ba bo bo go... be bo be ba bo... bebo? bogos binted? ba be bo ba...
varus. /// vengearrow.
So the Darkin have been lost to time, recorded in the annals of history as demons; debauched beasts that haunt the past, their presence in the present ever fading. The mortals say the Darkin are monstrous, when so many monsters and heroes, even wretched gods, are all cut from the same cloth. Oh, so many monsters lauded as great men. It makes Varus sneer with contempt, his eyes smoldering balefully. He has lived in the sore absence of such ignorance for so long, after all, festering with burning resentment in the repressive darkness of that damned cage. After all of his years in damnation, he has thought: it was a great mistake to seal him and his kin away instead of destroying them all, to think that they could bury their ghosts.
“My name is Varus. I am the arrow of retribution, and I will pierce you for forgetting your kind’s sins.” He spares not an inkling of intrigue for Rakan’s charms; there is only that cold, familiar anger, and it sings to him with renewed vigor. His corrupted hand clenches around his crystalline bow, and vermillion flickers around its limbs, coursing like lightning around the center, until the shape of an arrow is formed and howling with energy. Varus raises the bow, aiming right for the heart. With this arrow, he would teach this carefree Vastayan terror and silence. “I gift you this pain to remember me by. Savor it.”
TO LIVE IS TO SIN. to live a life without sin is to not have live at all, for sins come in variations, one's sin could be simple lie to lovely maiden in attempt to charm & seduce her, yet another's sin could be the blood on their hands, reliving each grotesque, vivid memory over & over, praying for deliverance from this grief that burdens them. ah, the many faces he's seen, albeit this one's unique ( bonny, even. every part ), lusting for revenge. how amusing the thought. to fall for temptation of revenge to don bravado of a false justice for the darkin, whatever that was. how utterly wicked man can be, how each is so interwoven with sin itself. in his long years alive, the cycle of sin shall endlessly repeat, & that only bestows more responsibility on others ————— it is not his problem. he is candidate free from responsibility's task, one to laugh at free entertainment. for once, he is the audience. this is no different.
❛ oh, wow, that's really cool. the arrow looks pretty nice. ❜ insouciant in his approach, hand is placed atop own hip, digits curling ever so slightly, adopting collected posture with that sneer. face him, darkin, watch as the corners of his lips curve upward, high up, how he truly does not show a smidgen of concern over this endeavor !! varus is a new source of entertainment, the gift not pain, but the forthcoming laughs he is to thoroughly enjoy from each missed arrow. a dancer must be swift to survive in his craft. ❛ i'm into pain, don't get me wrong, buuuut ... ❜ pleasant hum, simply stepping to the side, showing his defiance with ease. ❛ i think i'll pass on the gift right now ! but thanks for the offer, varus. rakan's still got to show off his dance moves to everyone in ionia, you understand ? ❜
the end. /// quartlet.
LAUGHTER PEELS FROM THE VOID BELOW, the sound curdles and quivers, unfurling vast tapestries of discordant clangs and pinches of pink noise. He laughs. laughs in the face of hopelessness, laughs for all the putty flesh that makes him, him. may he lose himself in this sound, in the lights ahead and all around. trillions of them, distant and dead from this vantage point. they breathe their last sigh before bowing unto the encroaching Darkness, the era of black holes and pristine emptiness unwound and unbound, the era of rogue planets spinning into ad infinitum until their iron cores consume them from the inside out. how they scream ! how they dream ! how they die ! HE LAUGHS. He mourns. He weeps for no others may dare try, no tears can be wetted upon a vast cheek.
❛ NO, you did not, DiD yOu ? ❜ those last words are snatched by a static pulse, a static hum. it skips and fragments. dislodged from all meaning yet perfectly riddling itself inside cosmic bones and welts of nebulae. at this, the God Without a Throne bends, His unforeseeable eye narrows while laughter dies at the cavern of His might throat. when it ends, so too does a dead star’s drawn out agony before He peels it apart, carves it up like satin, splays it across the sky before it bubbles and foams into lesser atoms. drawing lines with the sickled tips of claws, almost lazily, thoughtlessly.
how fortunate this one is, to be a creature of somewhat significance, his guts not entirely composed of organic matter, for deep down there were flecks of stardust. in fact, He could gaze into the depths of his soul. find every knick and knot. pull back and laugh again at the simplicity. He does not such thing, instead, He merely stares and stares and stares. unblinking. unflinching. wild choruses reverberate across a thousand lightyears, their instant breaks into eternity as their throats are ripped from their bodies in a ceremony of entropy. stone cold moons orbit in the distance, suns follow behind, then all at once they are swallowed whole. ❛ but you did it for her … ❜ spoke He, ❛ did you not ? you took all the darkness that lay dormant inside you both, you consumed it WhOlE in hopes to bring about salvation. ❜
another cackle wretches from the beyond. the voice was high pitched, clammy, scratching. then another one bows into boils of laughter, then another after that, until there is another wicked choir set on mocking the little soul before them. He does nothing. He does not laugh. what liquid matter swirled inside that eye turns its attention to the side, and before long, the laughter stops. the supermassive black hole gurgling at his side also gazes beyond, far beyond, unto everything and nothing. it hungers and so does He. a hushed, ancient purr fills rakan’s weary ears this time. were he anyone else, the sound alone would have carved his mind into half. ❛ pitiful little guardian, i should destroy you here and now for your failure, yet … i am a BeNeVoLeNt god. i will offer you a chance. ❜
O, STARS ABOVE !! how your gleaming presence was filled with lies upon lies, how each twinkle was nary a sign of hope, each was hushed deceit to manipulate star guardian from young. // ah, how destiny once held benign promise of freedom, to grant power of flight through mere action of accepting contract that has bounded him to this fate, to see his name next to those who have fallen !!! his dreams, that of jubilant singer whose comrades were the very stars themselves, a star who shined like no other, a guardian that offered benevolence & promises of a future hope to the stars that have so nurtured him from young age, who have meticulously watched every move, every quiet night he sung, every passionate dance performed ——— the stars were no audience, they were initial saviors that furthered his passion // bah, but what is passion for one who's been consumed by darkness of the galaxy, who, in reality, resigned freedom to fall for a light that cares not for those it deems worthy guardians.
each vocable leaving this malevolent god did not sound real. reality had been distorted, reality's once intact mirror had been shattered, it is no longer chained by the rules of logic nor the everyday occurrences. the sun was no longer the mighty light that graced them with vision, that aided life's tasks with ease, that dawned beyond the horizon with promises of a new day & the vibrant hope that lied within its grasp. it was irresistible. to reject the sun's light ? unimaginable. even as a guardian, fighting for the first light's honeyed promises of doing the right thing & saving the stars, the sun had always been revered for its might. to see what once shined so brilliantly be crushed with ease, it defies all precedents of his perceived reality. all is fair game. he is nothing. status of a guardian greatly diminished when curtain unveiled the horrors that lied beyond mundane tasks : what gods of total destruction the first light kept secret from them, there is no strength in donning facade against them, no hope, no hope, even if he wishes not to reveal the miseries deep within, the grief dying starlight holds within him, there is no use in hiding.
❛ i did it for her. ❜ damned pity, from a god who knows naught of his plight. he is bold, blasphemous, furious. grit teeth, surely baring them as means to intimidate, barely containing anger against supposed hand that is of a deceptive warmth, one that may offer a promise, a sliver of hope, but he's had it with hope. hope is not the foundation for brighter future, it is the ruination !! it is what impedes growth, it is what led him to his fate. to reject this hand is to reject hope. ❛ & i'd do it again. again & again. ❜ daring, daring, limbs moving without thought put into each action, advancing towards the large form, as if to face it. face him. face the end. ❛ you think i'd take another chance ? the same way the first light offered a chance to be a star guardian ? the way i was offered a chance to be alive again, only to lose a huge part of me ? i don't give a damn if you're a bene ... benevu- whatever, point is, i'm done taking chances. you offering one won't make a difference. you destroy. you don't create life. ❜
boss. /// halvett.
BANTER SUCH AS THIS IS commonplace in the life of a pit fighter ; the type of clothing he wears , whether hewn from rough fabric or fine silk , means nothing but the end of one battle and the beginning of another . ( Being clad in luxury matters little in the face of a living , breathing challenge ———— and agile , glib and witty as Rakan may be , Sett will respond to his taunts with a smile . ) “ Do I now ? ” he responds , matching Rakan’s sneer with a fanged one of his own . “ Think my track record says enough about my strength , don’t’cha think ? Oh , but wait —— I forget you don’t keep track of that kinda thing . ” He shifts , takes a single step towards Rakan to make to invade his personal space , posture the perfect mix of arrogant and playful . Two can play at this game , and dancing is nothing if not another form of combat . “ I could set up a demonstration in the ring if you’re willin’ to dance , pretty boy . ”
HOW A SMILE CAN CONVEY delicacy in its most rich forms, how it is attributed to moments of peace & dulcet times where chaos had been so denied entrance to maintain this conjured serenity. but what of those smiles whose purpose is to taunt, whose sole purpose is to stir chaos, to invoke a muse that shall witness acts of violence, dutifully performed for naught but entertainment. ( this was fun, this was a show, & though two may stand center stage, rakan is beauty's gift upon the world. sett is yet another face in rakan's audience. )
❛ do you know who you're talking to ? ❜ not once does he falter in the face of danger, even as he comes closer, there is no reason to lose upright posture ; no, rakan challenges him, he is one to always smirk & laugh in the face of adversity !! laugh, laugh he does, not hearty, as it's a mere chuckle. the boss of the pits must know the truth : he does not fear him, especially when one wishes to duel him in his own craft. ( that ... is what he meant, right ? ) ❛ rakan, charmer, best dancer in all of ionia. seriously, challenging me to a dance, you sure about that ? i thought fighting was more your style, but who am i to deny anyone a dance !? ❜ hyped up, step forward, preparing himself for supposed dance battle. he was here to fight, but this works, too !
yasuo. /// flowihnd.
OH , HOW THE WANDERER’S DAYS have changed in the melody that threads them together , and how different the rhythm his feet walk to has become . Replacing solitude’s endless vigil is the equally endless energy of the Vastaya , leaves intermittently leaving the comfort of the tree branches in favor of accompanying the wind in its journey . A light chuckle breezes through Yasuo’s parted lips , joining the chilly evening air . “ I meant —— Ah , never mind . ” Explaining it would rob it of fun ; plus , he’s sure Rakan is well aware of the discreet punchline . He takes a small drink from his flask , ties it to his belt , and ( unbeknownst to Rakan ) imitates the Vastaya’s posture , resting the back of his head against joined hands . “ Sounds like the biggest danger for you at the moment was climbing the tree just now ! ”
YASUO SETTLES AGAINST THE TREE trunk , eyes closing briefly before they open once more . The pastels in the sky have begun to dim , giving way to the dark of night and the first peeking twinkles of the stars . “ But don’t you worry , Rakan , I’m not going to miss the rise of the moon … ” he continues , voice softening as the day’s exhaustion creeps up his throat . “ I never do at this point , really . Am I saying I don’t really sleep ? Weeeell … ” Another chuckle , this time encouraged by the influence of slight intoxication . “ Huh , maybe . At least not as often as I should . ”
ah, a farewell to that old routine of solitude, replaced by this new one. / in that distant past, he was the sole entertainer on this set stage, the eyes of the audience focused on naught but him, the beauty & grace of every natural feature, every natural move & its flow, embedded with an exhibited passion from his heart ( it is the melody that guides him ). in a forgotten yesterday, he was chosen, the only capable one of performing these beauteous dances that humans could not avert their gaze from. it is only miracle, fate, luck that now, each festival, there comes a new expectation : certain dance partner, a wanderer whose calling is the wind, appears & leaves just as swift. yasuo. only one who's managed to keep up with his every move, successfully impressing rakan, as both engaged in an impassioned dance that sung for those higher beings, very ones that granted them this gift. this is an art that others would not dare partake in, it's different having another to share this enthusiasm with. this is the new norm he's come to wholeheartedly accept.
❛ hey, that wasn't dangerous at all ! ❜ an abrupt motion, he rises ——— like the moon, its gleaming silver light & its comfort matches rakan's own demeanor, despite his eccentricism. never calm, too much energy that can't be contained. upon sitting up & turning his head ( meager attempt to get a view of yasuo ), though making sure he does not fall as consequence for action. perfect. ❛ i think your lack of sleep's a little more dangerous, yasuo. falling asleep here ... you're not meant to literally fall ! but, guess if you do, i could end up catching you. ❜ surely a jest, his own retort to yasuo's earlier one. its only fair a jubilant canary, granted gift of flight from this chilly wind, is there to rescue what grants him newfound freedom.
goggles. /// yi-dashi.
Dance was notunknown to Yi, which was perhaps why he’d been drawn to the performance in the first place.Plenty of his people had been dancers, and in Rakan he found some form of nostalgia. When the people of Wuju could not apply their sword-crafts to battle or contests, their grace became art. To the beat of drums, a curated form of swordplay hadcome alive in performance. Back then, Yihad ignored any mentors of the arts, preferring swords for their edges ratherthan aesthetics. There were many more important things to be done, he told them all. Whywould he need to remember every single Wuju play?
That thinkinghad got him to the present, standing before the other with flurries of compliments. Butthe nostalgia grew bitter the longer he pondered it. How much had he forgotten?
“… What isnew?” He offered, after shaking off his simmering malaise. The other’s bravado was much more captivating than thoughts of the past, “Acknowledgement of workwell done? Surely, I would hope you are given more credit for the performance youprovide? You speak as if you are aware of your own skill, and I suppose they would not host you here if not for the skill of it. Thepractice is apparent, and I am hope you are not the only one telling yourself this.”
Stroking athis beard, the Bladesman’s lenses clunked back into theircasings suddenly. Behind them, the man found himself wincing as hebecame aware of a missed introduction. That, and the name ‘Goggles,’ which seemed to slap him for his missed formality. Not very palatable to his ears certainly, and his first instinct was to scold the Vastayan for it. But be polite, Yi. Thatwas the least he could offer. Let it go once, and make sure he has no reason to call you it again.
He steadiedhis expression, and his goggles along with it, as he continued with his measured tone, “Ah, I think I have gotten ahead of myself. Please forgive me Rakan, I have not thought to announce myself. It is not Goggles, as yousay. I am known as Master Yi. I travel widely, and I was not expecting to spendmy time here this day. So, if you have things you must attend to, please do notlet this man keep you. If you would tell me more of your dances however, I would surely be interested in hearing it.”
At least that gave him an exit, if he’d truly managed to offend.
such a new song to settle upon his ears, appealing to some base desire that yearns for praise & attention ( oh, how it dwells in his heart ! ), rekindling the passionate fire of his heart that continuously reminds him of this skill's benefits : the endless praise from others, their attention, & their inevitable admiration held for none but rakan, rakan, rakan. hah, to stroke massive ego could be considered folly to some, albeit rakan feels differently. this praise is divine, it is a pleasure he indulges himself in, caring not for the scorn directed towards him through malevolent gazes ——— envy, repulsive sentiment he understands all too well ——— but beauty's irresistible grace allows him to persevere, to continue his performance without worry of what others thought.
❛ you'd be surprised, goggles ! ❜ again with the nickname, escaping past lips naturally, at a smooth ease the world could not compete with. coolness itself, is rakan in that moment. 'till he recognizes own blunder / stranger had been naught but kind to him ( but within lies an expectation of kindness from all !! ) hah, only a fool would believe that. it is only luck that he's not being chased down by yet another angry guard with hopes of capturing for his feathers, or perhaps his head. ❛ sorry, sorry, that was my bad. master yi, right ? ❜ took a moment, certainly, but he's quick to correct himself, purely out of courtesy ( that, & he'd like to try to remember this guy's name. ) ❛ i just don't get that sort of praise often, really. lot of clapping, cheering, & staring, but who can blame 'em ? either way, it feels nice to have someone know i work pretty damn hard on each dance ! ❜
oh, but don't let him speak of those countless nights where spirit of song & dance resonate within him, indulging himself in that selfish pleasure of dance, song !! the true passion that feels like his calling, that feels right down to every sweet melody. it matters not if it's from dusk to dawn, it is the happiness conjured from each second that mattered !
❛ aaaaaaaanyway, ❜ after brief pause, voice fills the air again, waiting's too boring & leaving honored guest without answer to query is way too rude. abandoning the routinely, rather lonesome evening after a festival sounds pleasing. a taste of something new surely was needed, even if it wasn't a sweet, chocolatey delicacy. ❛ if you wanna hear all about my dancing, then i could tell you all about 'em ! maybe even show you some, too. consider yourself my guest of honor !! err, though i don't exactly have a place. i just wander around. ❜
i liked for this. / always accepting !!
@vengearrow said : "Rakan... hold still for a second." Varus reaches for the back of his scarf, lifting the amulet out from underneath, and places it around Rakan's neck. The red jewel shimmers brilliantly in the sun on his chest, and Varus hums in approval. "As I thought... it looks good on you. Keep it."
this warmth shall not go unnoticed. to avert his gaze from it would be a betrayal of the heart's desires, to silence an enlightened song of passion a deadly move that must not be executed ——— pessimistic perceptions may insist on silencing it, all in attempt to facilitate darkness's entrance to his heart, its only motivation to deter rakan from chosen path // to stray from what heart deems right is to betray his beliefs, to forsake what his heart beats for !! despite how convoluted the matters in his heart are, to reject them is to reject himself. growing sense of camaraderie between them nurtured through meticulous hands that cared for blooming flower, growing, living at base of his heart. travel has only strengthened its resolve, invoked muse to experience breath of life, longed for after times of pure peril, times where life itself had nearly been taken from rakan. ( oh, what's life without a little danger ? )
beyond such delicate flora its seeds, budding feeling of romance masked beneath guise of friendship, very one he dared not break yet. how peculiar such love came to be, how unnaturally natural did it feel to fight at his side, for their fates to be bounded to one another, walking along same path, shoulder to shoulder, initially perceived impossibility becoming their reality. through each conversation, through each battle, through each smile they offered one another at night's silence, where naught but the stars are their witness ... through it all, it became natural. natural to be at his side, where he belongs. not for the warmth he provides —— said warmth a virtue, albeit afterthought to the true prize : varus himself. very man that gifts him amulet, that accepts perceived reality of intertwined fates. in this together 'till bitter end.
❛ thanks ... i think it looks good on me, too !! ❜ he jests, it's natural, praise for himself, bonafide chuckle emitting from his throat. he hums, observes the amulet for moment, considering its color, its significance, how great it looked on varus, how good it looks on him. eventually, he decides. screw subtlety. ❛ 'course, it looks just as nice on you. then again ... there's never been a moment where you look bad at all. you're pretty easy on the eyes. ❜ see the grin forming on his lips ? see the rise of his brows, the evident gaze that neared longing every passing second. this road's destination ... shall it be cut short, or shall it prove fruitful ? lady luck, smile down on him.
yasuo. /// flowihnd.
“ WHAT ? CAN’T A HUMAN WATCH the sunset by his lonesome without it being considered strange ? ” Perhaps it isn’t the most orthodox way of doing so ———— but perching himself atop a tree branch , flask in hand and nodachi resting across his knees , is a better alternative to the ground ( and the people ) below . There is a whisper in the air , like the echo of a distant wind , that speaks in ways no other force in this world can —— and with the familiar comfort of alcohol’s warmth , the incoming night will be much easier to bear .
THAT , AND THE VASTAYA’S UNEXPECTED company . “ You’re thinking I could’ve just picked the ground , right ? Hm . Less dangerous , sort of . But I do like living on the edge . ” ( @feyquil· ! )
❛ it is pretty strange though, don't you think ? ❜ yet who is he to dictate what's strange & what is not ? is he not the most eccentric guy all of ionia praises precisely for how unconventional he is ? tight - lipped hum emits from his throat, only serving as a precursor to the subsequent attempt of climbing the tree —— fails once, twice, ( loud thud & whine indicative of such ), yet it is the third attempt where his plan has come to fruition !! he's now perched on a lone branch near yasuo, only then realizing he can't even see him, not even if he turns his head. it's unfortunate, buuuut ... ❛ a seat like this means you should be watching the moonrise, not the sunset ! ❜ proceeds to find a more comfortable posture, legs crossing ——— one over the other ——— followed by lax limbs raising, hands meeting at the back of his head, digits interlacing & serving as a headrest // perhaps too carefree, to focused on relaxing over the potential threat of falling down. HOW UTTERLY RAKAN.
❛ what's that about living on the edge, though ? gotta say, life's fun with a little danger. or, in my case, a lot of danger. ❜ life is much too short to be concerned about the potential harm that could come out of it ; rather, it's the entertainment that is far more rewarding, seeing one come after him only to fail miserably. even now, he wonders if he's at risk of meeting the edge of yasuo's blade. heh, he'll cross that bridge if he ever gets to it, the wind may be swift, but not a swift as his dance.
boss. /// halvett.
“ PEOPLE LIKE THAT ARE ALL talk most of the time . Pretty bold t’ assume I care about what they say ‘cause lemme tell ya : I don’t hide behind titles . Someone wants me , they get me . Usually prove ‘em wrong then . ”
❛ gotta say, that's one way to look at things ! ❜ is it really ? or is he providing vocal filler to continue irking him. he's aware of whom he's talking to, what dangers lie ahead if he's to act chummy with someone who's not particularly friendly. but that's just it. danger is a thrill, to perceive ire rising on their countenance ( & perhaps bait a swing ) brought him the most pleasing laughs. this was no different. ❛ but are you as strong as you look ? even without that title ? 'cause if you ask me, you seem pretty run of the mill. ❜ corners of lips curve into a sneer. he's enjoying himself a little too much.
goggles. /// yi-dashi.
Starter for @feyquil
Yi lurked at subtle distance from Rakan, only half aware that he was staring. Normally he didn’t care for incidental places passed along his way, or the celebrations they hosted. Normally, however, festivities weren’t accented by the flurry of dance, and the richness of Vastayan magic. His goggles had been caught, and there they remained to watch. Now, when all was done, he just had to think of something to say that would justify his prolonged gaze.
“… You certainly have the spirit of performance in you.” Yi commented eventually, when he found the right moment to approach. His lenses rolled with micro-adjustments, invisible candles seeming to flutter behind the fixtures as he grasped for his beard, “In a literal sense, perhaps? I could not say much to that, though this much I can say: You must dedicate a lot of time to your craft, yes? If not, then you are a raw talent the likes of which I have yet to see. I do not suspect that is so, however. I stand intrigued and impressed by any sort of dedication to a skill.”
The Bladesman offered a swift dip of his back with the last thought, hoping no awkward silences would find him when he rose again.
dance is an art that must not be underestimated. some may view it with scorn, they may perceive each move futile, fruitless, & as naught but hedonistic movements whose only purpose is to serve one's own sense of pleasure & enjoyment. but, oh, it's more than that !! far, far more than just that —— these festivals granted dance its opportunity to shine in the spotlight. under that beauteous, setting sun, there is rakan at the center of these festivals, allowed a moment for his song & dance to captivate an audience, for their eyes to remain on him ( oh, how the rekindled fire in their eyes sated him ), for their cheers & jubilant grins to be for him, caused all by him. dance's intricacies are understood by he, lhotlan vastaya whose dance continues eliciting the elated claps, he is their beacon, the epitome of being carefree, to simply enjoy each moment. his dance is as invigorating as it is inspiring. a breath of life bestowed onto them by this art he's meticulously perfected to his standards.
as his dance comes to a close, a singular limb is brought up, graceful & unbothered in its movement as it dramatically remains above his head. held in place for a few moments, as if to prolong their praise, only to then transition into a theatrical final bow. the crowd that once gazed & cheered for him begin dispersing, their smiles a reminder to rakan : god damn is he good at what he does. once he's no longer the center of attention, it's his cue to leave, to find the human's delicate sweet, the chocolate he's long since craved. such is the plan, until he's approached by a man from the audience earlier. huh, he looks pretty cool.
❛ wow, that's a new one. ❜ chuckle emits from his throat, pearly whites visible with the oncoming grin. praise isn't uncommon, it's welcomed at all times, but to this degree ? he's rather flattered, perhaps not only because he was mentioned to have the spirit of performance, but the simple acknowledgement of his hard work ... he kinda likes it ! ❛ thanks ! what can i say ? i put a lot of practice into my dance, gotta make sure it's beautiful & perfect, just like me. i can't settle for less. ❜ it's his source of pride, one of many sides to his vanity. ❛ name's rakan by the way, goggles ! but, you knew that already. at least, i think you did. ❜
unprompted. / always accepting !!
@halvett said : Don't mind him, Sett's just sizing Rakan up and down with a smile. "You really are the /biggest/ himbo this side of Ionia, and I say that in the nicest way possible."
that's a new one. he's never heard that word before, not really. there were certain terms that the humans used to communicate that he didn't quite understand. sometimes they sounded like some sort of amalgamation of two different words, or a peculiar instance where it was entirely new & original. it was almost beautiful. ( the humans feared them for being different, yet they embraced these novel terms they create ——— it's strange. was it due to the fact it was conceived by them, or the mere fact they got used to such terms ? man, who knows. ) it's nothing to fret over, as their beauty could never surpass his. then again, he was the most eye - catching thing, how could he expect anyone or any thing to compete ? even something as strange as that word.
❛ himbo, himbo ... ❜ it's a test. an attempt to speak it, understand it, process it. such a hefty task, his brows furrow & his eyes shut as he ponders over the word. maybe if he thought hard enough, he could garner its true meaning, but alas ... he opts to adopt his own definition, perhaps not too far off from the true meaning. ❛ dunno what that means, but i'll take it as a compliment !! ❜ hearty laugh, followed by a radiant grin & confidence in his every word. ❛ i'm the best himbo ionia's ever seen ! ❜ yeah, it definitely fits.
nasus. /// shurima-demigod.
“Unfortunately, I am a bit too busy,” he said, brow raised. “I have my hands a bit full.”
That was a mild way to put it. If he got anymore work, he was convinced he might end up drowning. He accepted another report from a guard, sighing as he read it over and signed it off.
“What brings you to Shurima Rakan? Someone running from Ionia?”
❛ too busy for me ? i'm insulted ! ❜ the exaggeration's obvious in his voice, the mere gesture of hand against his own chest & step back only serves to further accentuate it. right after, there's naught but a smile, a laugh. rakan jests, as per usual. his antics ? they just don't change, he hopes to elicit even a faint grin. ❛ hah, just kidding. i just wanted to come see how you were doing ! what can i say ? guess you were on my mind for a bit & i decided to come visit you. was a long walk, but hey, i missed you. ❜
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 ? ❜
yasuo. /// windwandered.
Starter Call // @feyquil
“Nope. Stop. Turn around. Take a few steps. Then a few more. Y’know, might as well just keep walkin’ for a thousand paces.” He’s talking as though he’s giving orders to the jovial birdman, wondering if Rakan will actually fall for it.
“You’re not invited to drinking night, tonight. I can’t just bring a plus one, and we know how you get when you get even a taste of alcohol.” Yasuo shudders at the incident. Rakan had made a fool of himself, and embarrassed Yasuo last time, and the wanderer wasn’t about to let that happen again, even if Rakan begged and pleaded.
& he doesn't. is it out of defiance ? one could call it that. orders aren't anything new, they'd always been given to him & in the right context, he'd probably listen ( admittedly, those orders may be forsaken for something grander to him ). here ? why listen when the promise of alcohol urges his desire forward.
❛ aw, come on, yas ! ❜ nickname usage, as if they were close, as if they held a bond that could not be cut even by the most sharp blade. have they indulged in conversations of the heart ? seen each other past the exterior they present ? hell no. friends could not even be the most accurate description for them. drinking buddies ? what were they ? ❛ old buddy, old pal, i promise that this time it's going to be different. you can trust me, right ? ❜ recited line, delivered yet again for the umpth time. some things never change.
??? /// herdream.
❛ wh - what are dreams made of, you ask? ❜ the fawn stutters, ❛ why … they are what you make ‘em …! ❜ she giggles — the other is far from wholly human, what an interesting being! but she has listened to his distant dreams, she could hear them in the gentle night. they are warm, filled with love & fun! oh, so much fun! does he remember her, perhaps? in the dream, did he feel her presence listening in? did he notice her watching? ❛ daydreams, mid - morning dreams, night dreams, oh, oh, a - and dusk dreams! do … do you remember … ? i — i, oh how embarrassing — ❜ @feyquil
interesting. a bit unexpected, but interesting nonetheless. dreams, the symbols that offer refuge & hope, they're whatever one wants them to be ? if a dream can be anything, then can a dream be everything ? if a dream could be everything, then perhaps a dream could be tangible ————— if a dream could be tangible, a dream could be edible & by extension, the sweet delicacy humans have named chocolate. what was he talking about again ?
❛ remember ? ❜ attention brought back at her query, cerulean hues fixed on her delicate features, lips pressing against each other tight as he hums. remember, remember ... ❛ sorry, can't say i do ! ❜ chance of knowing one another through dreams alone ? a definite possibility ! for rakan, however, he opts to remember the fleeting moments of euphoria & peace that consistently exist throughout his dreams. ❛ no need to be embarrassed, stranger !! i asked you a question, only fair you get to ask one right back. ❜
sylas. /// unshackles.
❛ surely, you must jest, ❜ he mutters, imperative. leading a direct and mindless assault into the enemy territory without elaborate planing beforehand doesn’t exactly sit right with him. he’s done it before and it almost lead to his demise. after all, despite their ostensible ignorance and the ever so present feigned harmony, demacians never dive into a battle without a plan of action. and part of that mindset has stuck with him. doesn’t take more than one failure for him to become tenfold wary for the prospects of another battle. to his misfortune, they always seem to be prepared. be it day or night, his targets are always attentive of incoming ambushes.
❛ they may be ignorant, however, they’re not stupid, ❜ he lectures, his voice stern and steady. it doesn’t take him long to shoot rakan a diverted glance, his brows arched in feigned disbelief. ❛ if you wish so, i can put you in the front lines. you’re too fervent a fighter, after all. ❜ for yet a few more moments, he keeps up the guise of disorientation, purposely trying to garner some kind of conflicted reaction from rakan’s part. not soon after, laughter finally comes forth. ❛ amusing, truly. come, i’ll go over the scheme with you again. ❜
war is cruel. he knows this. no matter how entertaining each battle was, no matter how much he laughed in the face of the opposition to evoke some form of ire that appealed to some sort of base desire to see others with bloodlust in their eyes for none but him, war was still a tragedy. from tragedy, life will be born anew : hearts can sing in unison again for peace, those whose wings had been maimed may soon find flight again, & freedom's fire may be rekindled once more through their unified actions. this is a battle they, together, must fight. no matter the difficulties that lie ahead ——— alas, when the enemy is versed in dealing with those who excel in magic ( why fear what you can't understand ? ), the scales are tipped against them. what was once a leveled playing field is now an uphill battle, each step meticulous. maybe now he understands, even if only a bit, why his idea might not be of huge value.
❛ the front lines ? ❜ only typical for him to have a perplexed look on his face at that, remain in a perpetual conflict, rubbing at his chin & humming as if even entertaining the thought. to remain quiet is to remain without an answer, & that's just rude. he opts to speak again. ❛ you want this pretty face to get hurt by a demacian soldier in the front lines ? naaaah, i do a lot better just being from behind. you get me ? ❜ soon after, laughter. a relief, really, their leader wasn't a stranger to humor. it's enough to elicit a small chuckle from rakan. ❛ alright, alright. just make sure it's easy to understand, yeah ? none of those weird tactic words or whatever. ❜
cowboy. /// quartlet.
❛ might want to stand back a bit, darling. demon guts aren’t an easy thing to wash off. ❜
@feyquil· ,
❛ aww, look at you, cowboy ... ❜ his tone's laced with honey, it's velvety as he coos. ❛ tell me, do you think i'm a little scared of demon guts ? i dunno ... i think it's got the potential to make me look even better than i do now. 'course, i can find that out some other time. ❜
unprompted. / always accepting !!
@iixesha said : Scratches behind his ear. For science reasons
❛ huh ? ❜ he's not used to it, having someone else scratch behind his ears. sure, they were as fluffy as they looked & certainly deserving of anyone's attention, though what more captivating than his feathers he puts on display for all to marvel at ? sure, his ears got some form of attention, no matter how small, but for them to be scratched ? nope, that's new. oh, & an itch he previously didn't have becomes apparent once ekko's fingers scratch behind his ears. ❛ hold on, lil bit more to the left ——— too far. more to the right, aaaaaand ... ❜ there, there's that damn itch !! ❛ right there ! i could scratch it myself, but i've got long nails. don't wanna end up hurtin' my beautiful ears in the process, y'know ? ❜
❛ sorry, xayah, did you say something ? ❜ not his intention to ignore her ever, simply that whatever immediate thought that coursed through his mind caught his attention. maybe he should apologize again. ❛ was thinking about something. could you run that by me again ? ❜ /// @corvalis
he's not well versed in this type of thing. strategizing an attack against a single person is one thing, but strategizing for multiple people & devising an intricate web of plan upon plan sounded much too complicated for him. there was always the option, for him, of simply tiring one out ; of course, when it's an entire kingdom full of troops heavily armed, maybe that wasn't an option. his input may not be of the best quality, due to his own methods of battle contrasting heavily with sylas's, though an attempt is all that's surely needed. at least, he hopes so.
❛ you're saying we should do that ? ❜ what did he call it ? a ... pincer attack, or something ? he's not entirely certain on how it might benefit them. thinking on it too much is a chore, even if it is a necessity to claim victory in this uphill battle. regardless, rakan's curiosity is abundant & one of his only tools that could help him understand something a little better. ❛ it's not clicking with me. why not just charge straight into them ? i'm sure they wouldn't expect that !! ❜ /// @unshackles
hero. /// bxstiae.
⚜ ; —– [ ᴠ ᴀ ʟ ᴏ ʀ ʜ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ] —– WASN’T LIKE HERO needed to use the sword (actually preferred the bow most of the time ). Though Master Blade had SOME perks to. It seemed to be whispering again, EGGING the Hylian to show the other why in it’s dim glow. Strange. (the sword never got upset over that before ) Only cast a glance at weapon before turning to swing at what seemed like NOTHING.
—– ; BRIGHT ray of light came from the sword; went in the direction a Champion had swung – only to clip the grass that stood in way before hitting a bush in an explosion. Leaves flew in various directions. Perhaps that would be sufficient ENOUGH to answer the question.
❝ 🇭🇲🇲 … ❞
i mean i can still use the bow too i guess .
nothing but sounds of a delicate wind, all as he awaits a response. is there an apparent, valuable reason for his curiosity ? no. rakan isn't one to use weapons, he prefers his dance to be his guide. treat every battle as such & he's found to give a performance that's enough to please the crowd ! still ... a sword over a bow ? doesn't one give you the advantage of distance ? rakan thinks that there's more merit in a bow from that alone. of course, that erroneous belief is quickly left behind when there's a beam of light that collides with a bush & explodes on impact
❛ alright, guess that settles why at least ! ❜ he finds no interest in that weapon. using it would be entertaining, shooting beams of light to anything & having control of a power like that would be for naught but fun. that's why ... ❛ heeey, you don't mind if i use it myself, right ? i wanna give it a shot ! ❜
downtime is not a rarity. living without care in the world is a motto he's since subscribed to, adhering to such hedonistic law for no other reason than to gain pleasure ——— a lack of care for trivial matters that humans fret over allowed gates of new possibilities to be opened, surpassed as all continue to wallow & drown in pools of responsibility. though he is one to quell these worries with song & dance, it is ephemeral, contained within the space he's intruded graced with his presence. rakan is free ——— to remain collective & silent, gazing upon nature's finest work, the trees that stretch towards the azure sky above, the relaxing grass he considers comfortable enough to be a bed, the foreboding man whose primal voice pierces through the tranquil silence of the moment. wait, what ?
❛ huh, not even going to give me your name first or anything ? at least a compliment on my good looks ? ❜ it's not a deliberate remark to avoid the question, he just takes offense to those that fail to be captivated by his charms. possibly because no such magic is being used. perchance because this new individual isn't an average human. lips curve upward with every intent, finding new source of entertainment before him. who was this guy ? ❛ darkin, darkin ... ❜ feigns being lost within own thought process, circling around varus, hand rubbing at own chin, humming to further accentuate elaborate lie. soft chuckle, he shrugs. ❛ nope, sorry. don't think i know anything about the darkin. ❜
The patience of a hunter bridles even the superlative of lust that is his primal instinct to kill — not yet, he chides himself. The quiver of his accursed bow is only half-way drawn, the faintest glimpses of vermilion flickering where the string is at its tensest, but the bow is not aimed. What he seeks is answers, not the heart of the airy Vastayan that he stalks.
He finally approaches close enough to where Varus hides. The soft grass rustles in his wake, and Varus rounds the corner, approaching deliberately, like a snake. His voice is a foreign growl in his ears, primitive and guttural.
“You. Tell me, what do you know about the Darkin?”
@feyquil / sc.
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 ! ❜
unprompted. / always accepting !!
@quartlet said : ❛ it appears the canary has flied only to fall. ❜ he speaks as though his breathing is not laboured. mismatched. parched. vividly, he sees vermillion blotted against orange, against yellow. the gun is empty but it will always be a part of him. ❛ will you dance for me one last time ? ❜
SWEET IRONY SHALL FOLLOW FLIGHTLESS BIRD, even through the perilous illusion, fallacious belief that one may so grant him wings, will irony edge closer & closer 'till truth's dulcet instrument presses again his chin / one whose bewitching feathers captivate the audience, his audience, shall revel in such vivacious festivities, where all gaze at him as a beacon, what can quell the undying worries dwelling within their hearts !! his dance & his song are a solo performance, acquired entertainment comes not from their mirth, but their modest acceptance of he as the heart of the party. a dancer whose dance is unique, distinct, charming, their eyes were not a godsent, it was a mere normalcy that he indulged in ; wherever he went, wherever his voice spoke, the audience, too, would follow. he was the flightless canary believed to hold the freedom of the skies. /
solo performances must be maintained as such. basking in the glory of desire is not criminal in of itself, one time flings must be accepted as a norm ( being deemed epitome of beauty came with perks that, to reject, would be a rejection of beauty itself ), for love, while possible, is capable to be a saintly blessing or a dreadful curse. a misstep serves as naught but detriment towards his performance, cooed melodies delivered as chaos's cacophony, the illusion will fall & so shall he. to fall in public is to accept shame. to accept shame is to forsake rakan. himself. // then why, oh, why must his heart beat for masked man, perfection's disciple, whose faux whispers ( harmonious they're not his ) allure with every intent ? why must every aching part of his body gravitate towards him, murmur supposed name, & accept him as suitable pair for an enchanting duet ? is this ok ? ——————————— this is not love.
what they have, this is not love. love is sweet. love is not a curse. love is not meant to cause misstep, love is a guiding light, warm, brilliant !!! love is granted power to protect another. love is permission to press ear against chest & listen to soft bumps against chest, a heart beat that insinuates life & glory ahead for two !! love is not the traveling pair that has accepted an imminent death for one. love is not the way legs wrap around waist, pressing into him with haste & incisors sinking at soft flesh, biting to mark what is rightfully his. love is not the amalgamation of their mewls permeating thickened air around them, each moan reverberating from rakan's throat growing louder, stronger, inflicted with a passion he swore himself to not fall to. this is not love, this is not love !!!!!! THEN WHY DOES IT FEEL SO DAMN GOOD ?
❛ guess i did fall. i fell for you. ❜ such is the means of life. to fall for perfection's embodiment is to render himself subservient to his will. beauty's incarnate must fall for perfection to rise. a stage may hold two, yet one starring role shall prevail successful. one actor is to hog the glory & fame with the name under the production they worked on. their continued act, while recognized, must come to an end. they both knew. death's icy touch hid behind mask, each meticulous digit that traced his chest at earlier times evinced that. rakan did not care. to feel alive, to be granted illusion of flight with jhin, was an eternity whose end drew near. he's not afraid. ❛ it's going to be our last dance, isn't it ? ❜ life's hue will no longer bless his eyes. darkness lied near, awaiting for its stealthy embrace, believing itself to be unexpected. but rakan's breath is heavy, teeth sunken into jhin's neck, marking a memory for him to remember & remember the man that evoked sweet music from him. he wants jhin to remember each delicate yet rough touch at his hips, the way thumbs drew circles around them ——— each thrust that served as a deceptive truth : that they were near one, that this conjured pleasure was real. ( all of it was real. this was coming. ) ❛ let me give you something to remember then, baby. ❜ presses chin down against gun's curved barrel, intake of breath before a shaky exhale escapes him. he smirks. ❛ & you make sure that they remember me when i go out, yeah ? ❜
❛ you're a lot taller than me. ❜ the fact he even has to look up is indicator enough to him. ❛ & yet, i still dig it. i consider myself a lucky guy. ❜ /// @carminae
❛ are you sure you're a little too busy, nasus ? don't even got a liiiittle time for me ? just a little. promise i'll give you a reward ! ❜ /// @shurima-demigod
❛ you call yourself the boss, but isn't that just a title you're hiding behind, or something ? they usually say guys like you are the weakest of the bunch. pretty interesting, ain't it ? ❜ /// @halvett
❛ you're telling me that i fucked up, but come on, it's not so bad ! at least you didn't get hurt, right ? i'll be fine. ❜ /// @prodigal-ezreal
❛ hold on, i don't get what you're saying. why would you rather use a sword over a bow ? ❜ /// @bxstiae