.R E W I N D

                                   HOW MUCH MORE TIME 

It was like PERFORMANCE ART, the way this would 

swing like the compendium in the remains of the Zaunite 

high clocktower, even at end Ekko’s directive, if he 

happened to have one. 

The words were spoken on a tongue of steel and from 

those balmy lips he shivers, and shivers and SHIVERS,

and suddenly hes cold and chilled to the bone. He can 

hardly move, let alone speak back to the words that cut

an immortal so deep without a blade in hand. His mouth 

tastes like bile and regret, and if you looked deep enough

a sliver of regret.

He wishes he wasnt like this, he longs for time to tear him 

apart from the chain of fate that pulls him four seconds back, 

that tears him years and years, and timelines apart from 

the things that show him care. A DOG on a leash, dragged

away from its home.

“Y’know” He finally manages to speak, “Lamb once told

me that sometimes she and wolf are separated, only to 

find each other again and again.” He doesent want to compare

time and the wind to the aspect of execution, but he barely

break away. “I think in the end, I’ll always ed up back to you,

How terrible did the trial of time itself feel

upon hearing concerned words from the 

deity of darkness himself. Ekko gave a 

small chuckle, nervous more than with 

confidence, and set aside the timewinder

to look to Dark with his tired eyes.

“I dont invite you over much because its..

It’s kinda a mess.” He swallows. “I live in 

outer Zaun, The ruins. At least i do when I’m

here.” He states delicately. “I love in the old 

Zaun University of Techmathurgy building. The

one thats on its side. The rooms are big.”

The concept of affection, even ont he familial range was 

something that he was keen to accept, especially from 

a woman of Piltover, and yet, he accepted her love as 

if it was the love of a mother that he could ever know.

Calloused hands could wrap around her waist, and 

for a moment, he felt as if he was actually a child for

a moment, not a tear shed, but a morning for an inner

child that he could never now.