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an independent, multimuse roleplay blog featuring briar of league of legends — eternally hungry & staring at the world with starry eyes.

BITTEN BY MARIA — 21; she & they; ravenous for league of legends, valorant, arknights, fire emblem, bungo stray dogs, & whatever else my friends have infected me with.

MOSTLY FOR FRIENDS — but feel free to interact; we could be friends. "sporadic" severely understates this blog's activity. feeding off of @shoreskept & @nearlight

Would you care to dance?

“Nearl?” 

It’s just a name. One, single word. And it isn’t even wholly hers. But the name is her personal pocket of heaven. The word falls from her mouth the way a dove’s feather falls in its flight. Light. Airy. Like the tiniest breath from the Kuranta could blow it away. But she knows Nearl. Knows her Nearl. Knows that she has always treated her delicately, cupping her hands for when Liz would need a place to roost. Nearl means so much more to her than just a word, just a name. She is her rock, and the sword lodged in its crack. If ever she needed an unyielding beam of light to illuminate the path forward, Liz knows she would need to do little more than repeat this name–this one, single word. 

“With you? I wouldn’t dream of saying no.” 

Liz tends to the locks on her wheelchair. Her hands fumble with the mechanism in spite of all the practice she’s had, bones having grown thinner & more hollow since the last time it was used. Time will always be her worst enemy, and her greatest friend. It has managed to give her much–the memories she cherishes, the companions she keeps close–but works against her with every beat of her wings. Every day, she feels she sees less, remembers less. Lucky for her that she has such a radiant, unforgettable face to cling to–one which makes the most of every second. 

Her staff hits the ground. Even the sound it makes is hollow & meek. But there is strength in the girl who pulls her weight up with it. Determination courses through the muscle, the blood–the stretched canvas of skin–rising to meet her paladin. Liz’s best is the least Nearl deserves. 

It’s funny, her emotions are often wound around a spool, but with Nearl’s swordstaff she knits them into beautiful quilts & warm hats. Shining’s sword is used too, but she’s out fetching medical supplies right now. Liz almost feels bad making Nearl do it all herself. 

“But…” a pang of regret dampens the sound of her voice, her sky-hued gaze cast at the earth, “I can’t stand as long as I used to. I’ll need to borrow some of your strength.” One step at a time, she draws closer. She takes them on her own, walking with the kind of affirmation that denies any motion to help. This, she can do. This, she has to do. Because dancing is Nearl’s favorite thing to do, and Liz will use every ounce of her body to stay on her feet. Any effort, no matter if it buys her another minute, second, or fraction of time, is worth the trouble. She makes her way to the knight, sets her staff on a nearby table, and joins slender hands with her. Now, she is relying on her rock for stability. Now, she’s balancing her weight–trusting her weight–on Nearl. Wherever she leads, Liz will follow. This is the foundation of any dance, and theirs is no different.

“Now then… Would you like a Sarkaz folk song, or something from Kazimierz?” She finds her smile again. For a nameless piece of chalk sculpted into the likeness of a vessel, a smile is a lot for her to have. It brings her an unending amount of joy to share it with her Followers. “I can hum it if I remember…

The Thunderer is about to open her mouth to speak. To wish Kiana well in her game--for how could she not?--but also to describe (in detail) just how vital her health is. More than the endless sea amidst the stars above, Mei cares about her. Kiana wouldn't just be letting down those that depend on her, but she with the bolt of the almighty.

And last she checked, few had the courage to dissatisfy Mei.

But Kiana's tongue is quick. It moves faster than lightning can catch, and after hearing the notion of having a nap together, The Thunderer freezes. At her peak, flowers come into full bloom as spring turns to summer: a single row of red, which stretches from cheek to cheek. She tilts her chin downward. Her eyes dart from Kiana's left to her right, never quite landing on the woman herself. "Tch..." is all that she voices at first, a betrayal of her having made something reminiscent of progress with the little stint.

She knows Mei. Knows her well enough to use something as precious as time together to get what she wants from her,

which, today, is being spared a lecture.

"Very well," she tuts, voice grasping for any thread of authority it can hold. When she catches a glimpse at the other's stare she falls weak at the knees--a crack in an otherwise impervious bedrock. She can't keep looking at her like this. Mei shuts her eyes for the next bit of dialogue, believing it to save her from making any embarrassing remarks.

She could not be more wrong.

"If you say it would be of use to you, I'll oblige. I won't worry, but will continue to prioritize your wellbeing. You're important to everyone, Kiana..." Amethyst irises blink open. They fail to reflect the light with how much longing they're sodden with. "You're important to me."

She exhales sharply. In the time it takes for her breath to dissipate against the other's neck, she has shifted their hands such that one of hers palms Kiana's back and the other is bending down to scoop her up by her knees. She is carried, bridal-style and back toward Mei's lodging because they could get there faster.