NOXIAN // MIGHT

@herpleasvre | The Witcher Starters / selectively open

Though she does appear out of seemingly nowhere, Darius is hardly startled.

He turns to face her and narrows his eyes, suspiciously. There’s something strange about her, something dangerous. Something tells him he shouldn’t lower his guard at all - not that he’d do so anyways, but this woman radiates such a... strangely feral aura and that’s enough to keep him on edge.

Is she human or not? It’s that question that settles in the back of his mind - because she looks human but doesn’t feel human - and urges him to keep a curious yet even more suspicious gaze on her. But if she isn’t human, what is she?

@vuikusen | The Witcher Starters / selectively open

A glance is given at the woman who approaches him. A Vastaya? No, something tells him she’s different. Not that he can explain what that something is but she feels different than the Vastaya he’s seen… Killed, even. She’s still Ionian, though, isn’t she?

Well, he’s not even sure of that, he supposes. She looks to be Ionian, but she might as well be from anywhere else. He doesn’t really care either way.

He shifts his weight to his right foot, his expression unchanging - himself unchanging - for a good moment. He’s quiet, for far too long, probably, but then he speaks. He speaks and just like his hands, his voice is rough and calloused and -

“Monster, huh?” he repeats, turning his gaze back straight ahead for a few seconds before those amber eyes of his focus onto her once more. He looks her over - there’s nothing monstrous about her appearance. Then again, it’s usually the inside that people refer to, isn’t it? It’s usually those that look innocent that end up being the monsters everyone should be afraid of.

And sometimes, Darius wonders how someone can be afraid of something beautiful. But it happens more often than one would think, doesn’t it? Besides, something too beautiful is often times something one should be suspicious about.

And this woman? She reeks of beauty. Of charm. Darius knows how to appreciate any good looking woman, he certainly does. And her? She’s beautiful, but she’s too beautiful.

He turns his body towards her to fully face her and his face is a neutral slate. A poker face to the end.

“Is that so? I see.” he nods, as if he understood exactly what the little cat meowed. Which he didn’t, obviously, but that’s not important. The lick comes as a surprise, but he chuckles and slowly moves the kitten to sit on one of his pauldrons, giving it a single, gentle headpat before dropping his hand back down.

“You’re a strong little one, aren’t ya? Surviving all by yourself at such a young age. And so tiny, too.”

oh darius  ,  he had a iron will .  always so focused and steadfast . serious in every sense in the word.  

and draven was not  . he was needy, he was loud, he was even annoying. he didn’t care . when did he get to see his brother who wasnt out there in the field or in a battle camp somewhere in noxus . it wasn’t often . draven wouldn’t admit it but sometimes he wished to catch his brother somewhere in the stands of his shows. sometimes .

he’d often wonder if he mattered much . it wasn’t like they met that often. and that thought itself got on dravens nerves… no matter, draven would try not to be difficult .  darius knew him well enough when he was being purposefully aggravating.

❛   what do you mean what.  you spend forever out there and i come overrr and yer just uuugh .  ❜

He brings a hand to his head and bites back the second sigh that threatens to escape him. His fingers move to gently massage his forehead for a few seconds before he drops his hand back down to rest by his side and levels a gaze on Draven.

Of course, he matters. But both brothers are stubborn - stubborn to a fault - and their way of showing they care about each other is nothing if not messed up. But Darius brought his brother up, watched him grow into the man he is now, cared for him and protected him as best he could. Until that day but everything he did was still to protect his brother.

Sometimes he wonders where he went wrong - where did both of them go wrong? Where was it that they stopped being family and instead just brothers?

Was it just because they were born in Noxus? He doesn’t know. He’s scared - he’s scared - but he won’t admit that, of course he won’t. He’s tired, tired and scared and tired and all he wants is to protect his brother. That’s all he’s ever done.

But Draven’s all grown up now, probably a little messed up in the head - but so is he. Because who isn’t in Noxus?

This time he can’t hold the sigh back, though he smiles almost fondly at his brother. A moment of weakness, perhaps - but it’s to his brother - Draven’s his brother - so it’s alright. It’s fine, right?

No, no, no. It’s not because weakness isn’t allowed in Noxus. He knows that, he does but - Draven’s his brother. His baby brother. Oh, how Darius would do anything to protect his little brother.

GROANSSSSS for your attention.  

He audibly sighs at the groans, though ignores Draven otherwise. For now.

Brotherly love; a mixture of I would kill for you and I will kill you.

Darius knows this all too well, but he’d never really hurt his brother. Probably. Unless said brother decides to continue groaning like that. Then he just might.

As much as he loves Draven - of course he does, Draven’s the only person he openly cares about; he’s his brother after all (there’s likely nothing - or almost nothing - he wouldn’t do for his baby brother) -, sometimes, he does get a little much.

Eventually, after what probably felt like a century to both brothers but was likely only a minute or two, he turns towards Draven with his eyes narrowed.

Look… cats are cute and kittens even more so, okay? Does he make sure nobody is around and watching him before he kneels down in front of the kitten to carefully pet it on its cute little head? Yes, of course he does. He slowly cups the kitten with both hands then straightens himself up again, bringing the little kitten closer to his face with an expression softer than one would expect him to have.

Good thing nobody’s watching, huh?

                The Hand of Noxus answers very plainly, very simply, and Garen expects that but he is not completely satisfied with such an answer. His brow is slightly furrowed, as it typically was, while he was affronted both by the truth of Darius’s answer and the simplicity of it. He wasn’t lying, not that Garen really expected him to lie ( he didn’t want to dwell on why he thought of Darius as a man who wouldn’t lie to him, perhaps it was the notion of respect he held for him and an extension of respect he hoped the Noxian held for him ). How is he meant to take this information though?

                Darius has not drawn his axe, nor has Garen drawn the sword for him his hip. Needless bloodshed was unnecessary, he reminds himself, with the addendum that he thinks it dishonorable to charge at a man so recklessly. As a principal and as a veteran, Garen did not revel in violence; battle was only reached when there was no other line, it was a means to an end, it should be an act of protection. All of that aside, though, he still felt an uneasy crawl up his spine when he contemplated what the implications of a Noxian General scouting a village so near to Demacia’s borders could mean. 

                “Surely you do not expect me to accept an answer like that so calmly?” he says aloud, commenting more on the situation than prodding it. Garen was wise enough to deduce why he was there with an answer like that, he could already begin to form plausible guesses as to what Darius was looking for. He would just seem foolish to ask such things aloud. He also knew better than to expect a more detailed explanation. 

                He waits and stands just as resolute, his posture not breaking, expression unchanging while his eyes lock with those burning pair of eyes. Again Garen’s mind wonders to take in the now changed image of the Noxian General. It was as if war had violently come to digging its claws into him until it was left hanging from him as a tattered banner. Darius stands just as calm and unmoving; they were like two mountains facing one another in the silent cold, waiting for the first to shift. 

And much like two mountains, not even the chilling cold stirs them; the only movement on Darius’ part is the fluttering of any fabric loose enough as the wind blows past him. At least for a good moment. Or two. When enough time has passed that it seems like Darius may not even grace the other man with an answer, he finally moves. Not forward or backward - he merely shifts his weight around slightly before fixing his gaze on Garen once more.

“Nor should you believe I expect you to accept an answer like that.” he shoots back, though his expression is stale - neutral. More fluttering, more silence, then he sighs; the sound quiet and likely barely audible past the howling wind and its icy bite. But he doesn’t doubt Garen heard it; or at least noticed it, nor does Darius care if he did.

A man can hope - a man can hope that no conflict will come to him. That his day can carry on and he can rest for once. But hope is often false, hope can be something so weak and fragile - crushed so easily under the foot of someone stronger. What isn’t weak is the will and strength to carry out those hopes and turn them into reality so that those false, weak hopes are no longer just hopes.

“I am certain you are more than capable of deciphering just why I’m here, Commander.” he adds - and he’s tired, so tired, but he doesn’t show it, doesn’t acknowledge it, at least not now, because that’s not important right now -, staring at Garen in yet more silence.

Silence is good, he finds. Silence is reassuring. Silence means that nobody’s dying - at least not by his hand; directly or otherwise - and that’s good because there’s too much bloodshed already and a break from the bloodshed - from the death that seems to follow in his footsteps - is good. Even so, he’s used to the screams and the pleas - so used to them that sometimes, most of the time, silence isn’t reassuring but unsettling - but now it is. Today it is. Today it calms him and settles in his weary bones and allows him to breathe.

But war never changes, and no matter what side wins; both lose in one way or another. People die and people lose their minds; death is never a good thing to witness. Never. It gnaws and gnaws at your mind until you know nothing but death and it poisons you and -

Enough. Enough.