she - devil.

independent,  private,  and selective rp blog for evelynn of riot’s league of legends,  as written by sabrina.

google doc.  →  please read it before making any attempt to interact with me.  it’s short and sweet.

headcanons.  →  these are all very important to my portrayal,  but if nothing else,  please read this one regarding romance and the prospect of shipping before considering asking me for ships.  the tldr is i’m likely not interested.  and please read this headcanon regarding evelynn’s default appearance in all verses,  including default / league verse.

i’m not terribly dupe friendly atm!

Generous woman. She’s given me my dinner, so thank her. Do it. Get down and pledge loyalty right on your knees. You’ve a talent for that, haven’t you? Kneeling to stronger things. Better things. And knowing your place, knowing it’s beneath me. Her. Things like us.

Cường skulks through the winter dusk. His desires gnaw deeply about that throbbing thing in his chest, the full moon’s bleed–fat and bloated now, silver in the receding veil of a goldening sky–and its effects seize his marrow like storm: his aches flair, and the volume of His hunger, beastly and insatiable both, crowd his thoughts like its mouth with fangs. Or insults. Words more jeer and needling derision.

Right. It is the night. It is the night for deathly things, the ghosts in the meadows and those things that send them. Cường knows. His visions burst noisier when the shifting nears, flirting on that fragile, precarious edge until even the quick of his nails whiten with pain, and so, at last! Here he’s come. Here, upon the playground of a serpent. Snake. A hungry woman.

Oh. Her victim’s warm, still. They bleed thinly over the twinkle of fresh snow, hair fussed with wind and struggle, and their eyes loll aimlessly, jaw hanging loosely and all death-slack. Heat’s trembling off the body’s skin, and he thinks of doused coal and extinguished fires. Apt.

“I don’t understand. I don’t, don’t know why you’d chase the cold so longly here, here where the snow already falls and the lakes chirp frozen. Nipping. Biting.”

His footsteps stop. A vacant breeze titters through the treetops, and Cường, some strange flavor bordering understanding, looks blandly toward her. Dusk wanes. Her dead air howls. Blood dribbles near her feet, staining a stubborn sprig of dandelion, and his fingers pick idly at his uppermost button. “You make my teeth chatter, you know. You do.” He walks again, gaze set on the dead. Hm. “You’re cold. Would you like this?” His jacket, of course.

               𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠,   𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬.   this corpse was never meant to lose its heat while remaining in the shadows of her presence,   and now,   she’s been tied down for yet another moment longer.   evelynn can hear the steadily faltering heartbeat fading into oblivion,   growing dull and slow with time,   the hands of a clock aging with copper rust before it finally draws still in silence forevermore.   she doesn’t turn just yet.   despite the footsteps that step closer and closer,   she remains still,   her gaze distant in its reach across the porcelain   -   white expanse blanketing the ground beneath her feet,   unmarred in its perfection.   it has become unmade,   and yet,   now it reaches an immaculate state,   as if this portrait belongs here,   all mangled flesh and sinew and broken bones.

her lashers retreat behind her,   gently hypnotic in their wavering sway in the way tree branches dance and bounce at the kiss of wind.   evelynn brings her right hand to her face,   thumbing her lower lip in a slow,   smooth motion,   cleaning the remnants of blood from her flesh.   she turns on her heels just as her delicate hand falls back to her side,   and regards him in freezing silence.   those unearthly and unsettling eyes sweep over him with bubbling mesmerization.   he doesn’t recoil in fear.   no,   he stepped closer.   he fell into the path of a beast and all but offered her his hand,   and for a moment she thinks him a fool,   but she can’t stop the breath of amusement from pushing out from her nostrils.

yes  !!!  god.  she’s an ancient demon and you know,  sometimes the day to day just gets so incredibly boring,  and she’s had so much time to try out everything.  whether this is k/da verse or a verse specific to making more of a  “  career  ”  out of streaming video games and such,  this is something she’s found enjoyment in.  while she does find genuine entertainment out of the games themselves  (  and can you blame her  ?  come on,  games are fun,  even to an ancient demon  ),  she’s quite interested in the pool of prey that comes with her fame and thus having a fanbase.  it’s easy food.

that being said,  evelynn being the demon person that she is,  she enjoys games that are more horror and action based.  things such as the resident evil series,  vampire the masquerade,  etc.  anything that is a little more horror  -  esque and bloody and gorey and supposedly scary is right up her alley.  you catch her at a moment that’s supposed to be some kind of jump scare,  and her eyes just light up with joy and she just laughs so hard.  she’s just so amused and so entertained.

               𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡,  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬.  their spirits linger and haunt her,  wailing aimlessly and helplessly as they lament their woes,  but evelynn pays them no mind.  pesky and annoying little flies,  like buzzing clusters of mosquitoes and gnats in the scorching wave of summer heat.  it’s some sort of poetic injustice,  that they follow her in death as they did in life,  but at least it’s never for long.  after centuries of making widows out of wives or becoming the widow herself to a cabal of wealthy men,  she has long since learned to tune out the soft whimpers and hushed cries of their radio static.

silver  -  tongued,  serpentine,  she coils around their waists and squeezes the air from their chests and cracks and crushes their ribs and punctures holes into their bubblegum lungs.  she coils around their wrists and pulls them closer in the hypnotic sway of her hips and the soft lull of a voice too saccharine sweet before she breaks each finger,  joint by joint,  in the tightness of her grip.  their entire lives rest in the palms of hands so deceptively delicate,  and before they know it,  she’s wrested entire control over them and everything they know.  it’s all the same to her.  they are all the same.  boring,  stupidly rich,  as boring as the plastic rhinestones that bejewel each lop  -  sided charm replicas of herself mass  -  made in cheap factories.

               𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬,  𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬  —  it is all evelynn knows.  there was once a time before all of this,  before towering buildings that scraped the clouds in the sky,  the shining beacons glittering across the horizon,  so bright that they illuminate the endless expanse of space.  yet,  in each life she slips into,  in each form that she takes,  although she always returns to the most comfortable skin of her favored appearance,  she lives beneath the thumb of idolatry.  she becomes the adored,  famed for her otherworldly beauty and grace,  an ethereal charm like none other.  evelynn needed to be loved,  adored,  worshiped.  with each reinvention,  she finds fame.  she has been a thousand models and a thousand actresses a thousand times over,  each in different sleeves,  each face as captivating as the next.  they exist all at once and over the decades and centuries.