* v. / a Solo Performance. - Blog Posts
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 ? ❜
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.
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. ❜
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. ❜
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 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
❛ hmm ... ❜ he's thinking, thinking, scrutinizing over draven's features, active imagination attempting to visualize what he'd look like without the facial hair. upon finally realizing it, his brow quirks, then he hums before giving his verdict, seemingly out of nowhere. ❛ yep, you look a whole lot better with the beard. ❜ /// @drorious
❛ watch your step ! ❜ small folly's not going to put a dent in their travels, though he's swift in his movements anyway, making sure to catch her before she could fall. phew. ❛ be careful. ground's a bit slippery here, you don't wanna fall from this height. ❜ exaggerating ? probably. it's expected of him. /// @ofsights
unprompted. / always accepting !!
@quartlet said : grasps his chin 😇
how peculiar. to have chin grasped like this is meant to be perceived as a gift, the culmination of a warmth between two souls that dance, dance. / one is meant to reign over land, protect the greenery that nature's heavenly touch graced, her teachings sacred & a promise of growth. to nurture these small seeds into blooming flowers of varying hues, conjuring a mosaic that man - made fabric could not wish to surpass that beauty, they could not wish to replicate it, for man's hands serve nature. the other is meant to dwell within the depths of the ocean, where few know that nature's touch cannot ever forge a bond between land & sea. yes, it does not matter how ravishing that presented exterior is, it matters not what bonny colors he adorns ( that is all he shall ever know ), mysteries lie abundant beyond this serene shore, yet cerulean hues be only granted a perspective on what is meant to be seen. the darkness beyond cannot be trod through so easily, for freedom's end lies at those darkened depths that beckon him. /
this is no dance of warmth. there is no innate love to be had. what they have ? it's different, but he is not caged. to leave one's zone of comfort is to spread these wings & delve into the world's gifts, to travel is to journey & experiment with what brings joy. sharing that with others is so truly a virtue few have, but to reject the side of him that is tempted & tempted & tempted by this man is to reject himself. to dance with khada jhin is to accept the dangers of life, it's to partake in elation through unorthodox means, shun by level - headed ones that so feared placing their hearts in the hands of death's disciple. ( what is reason if not an object that obstructs one from mingling with what is deemed pernicious ? what is reason if not what impedes growth. ) is this growth ? don't ask him. to live in the moment without worrying over future is a motto he's so since followed, & what great joy it brings him.
❛ oh, so ... you wanted to touch me ? ❜ to not make an implication of the sort would be uncharacteristic, to leave the virtuoso without a response would be to reject the self. each sense in rakan's body is rising, electrifying nearly, shudder only barely escaping his lips as an icy touch is felt at bare back. he hums. leans into the touch, their actions could speak for them. a poem need not be spoken. let it be performed, let it be a stage where the only audience is they, intertwined by a merciless fate. what, oh what could be more lovely than this ? ❛ going for my chin, i'd rather you touch me somewhere else. ❜ hand shifts, journeys over to the only part where there's exposed skin, pads gentle in their approach, carefully touching bicep 'till one digit, two digits, three dance onward, halting before forearm, only to feel the expanse of skin as they rise once more, firm grip near jhin's shoulder. don't stop what you're doing. ❛ unless ... maybe you want to be the one that gets touched tonight ? ❜ an open offer. an open mind. this dance they have is liberating. many have clamored over how mystery itself should be feared. the mystery of khada jhin, however, has successfully allured him.