ENDURE.

             𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐰𝐚𝐬  𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝  𝐛𝐲  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬,  𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬  𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧  𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲  𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞  𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦  𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲  𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐚.  even  the  hot  spring  the  intruder  currently  occupied  became  noticeably  colder  as  the  foreign  figure  approached.

stranger.  on  her  territory.  unthinkable.

though  deep  in  ionia,  approacher's  words  were  laced  with  disgust,  spoken  in  the  ancient  dialect  ⸻  with  unhidden  hatred  towards  the  land.

❝  ionians  are  not  welcome  here,  ❞  the  witch  sneers,  voice  dripping  with  magical  force  and  splitting  in  many.

oh,  how  foolish  and  naive  the  man  had  to  be  ⸻  to  willingly  wander  onto  syndra's  land;  deemed  cursed  and  deadly  by  any  who  entered  the  forests  and  meadows  and  came  back  alive.

it  was  not  often.

especially  when  they  asked  for  help  with  noxian  invasion,  yet  whoever  helped  with  getting  rid  of  ionians  was  worthy  of  gratitude,  though  never  expressed.

The  moment  she  waded  closer,  he  felt  it  —  felt  her.  She  was  raw,  unbridled  power,  almost  overwhelming  —  and  if  he  were  a  lesser  man,  he  would  fall  beneath  its  weight.  But  he  was  no  ordinary  man.  This  was  a  torrent  of  power  he  knew  well  from  his  own  experience.  And  while  he  had  trained  with  his,  mastered it,  she  seemed  to  be  his  opposite  —  learned  to  work  with  that  power  in  a  way  that  was  entirely  new  to  him.  She  immediately  garnered  his  respect.

"My  apologies,  I  thought  this  area  was  secluded  enough  to  be  out  of  any  local's  way."  The  monk  bowed  his  head  to  show  respect,  before  wading  over  to  the  nearby  stony  edge  of  the  hot  spring  where  his  belongings  were  kept.  He  rised  half - way  to  get  a  towel  around  his  waist,  not  wanting  to  startle  the  stranger  with  his  bare  body  for  longer  than  necessary   (  though  he  didn't  care,  he  wanted  to  at  least  be  considerate  to  someone  new  ).  His  movements  suggest  he  was  still  very  much  relaxed,  not  going  too  fast  with  anything  and  just  enjoying  his  time  no  matter  if  it  seemed  that  he'd  have  to  cut  it  short.

Lee  takes  another  towel  from  his  belongings  and  drapes  it  over  his  shoulders,  dabbing  away  water  from  his  neck.  "I  can  head  out  if  I  am  not  welcome.  But  if  it's  not  too  forward  to  ask,"  he  turns  to  the  stranger,  a  slight  tilt  to  his  head  as  he  directed  his  words  to  her.  "Your  spirit  is  something  I've  rarely  experienced.  It's  like  a  thunderstorm,  joined  by  that  unmistakable  feeling  along  the  skin.  It's  a  pure  torrent  of  destruction.  Not  a  bad  thing,  mind  you.  But,"  there's  a  pause  to  his  question,  as  his  demeanor  shifts  ever  so  slightly  —  more  serious,  more  concerned  —  not  for  himself,  but  for  her.  "Is  it  not  lonely?"

                                     Is  it  not  lonely?

The  question  is  purposefully  vague,  to  force  her  to  think  on  what  that  might  mean  in  relation  to  her,  the  power  she  wields,   or  where  she  lived  in  seclusion.  There  was  only  so  much  the  monk  was  able  to  infer  from  the  aura  of  her  spirit,  but  he  could  tell  many  things  from  just  that  brief  piece.  He  couldn't  dig  deeper  beyond  that  surface,  however.

Letting out a soft blow of air to cool to surface before he went for a sip. However, when Lee stood his eyes found themself elsewhere. Staring directly at his nude form and everything else. At first he had admired the tattoos across his body, following their pattern and trying to discern what it was a symbol for. It wasn't like any pattern Sett was familiar with in his time in Navori. Then his eyes stopped, quite directly at his hosts groin. Immediately there was an inhale, which was met with the liquid he was gently sipping to shoot forcefully into the back of his throat and some into his nostrils. The warm liquid burning his throat and nose as he choked violently. His hand coming up to stop his coughing fit as he held the cup with the tips of his fingers of his other. Hacking he inhaled vigorously, face flushed in embarrassment as he tried his best to compose himself.

"You- you don't like the fancy so..SOaps?" he croaked out. "Swallowed the wrong way, sorry." He says when the stinging pain and possibly burn mouth had subsided. Which was rather annoying to the half vastaya since he really just wanted to enjoy the tea. Eventually deciding to discard the cup back to where they had come from prior. Scooting himself around the basin to reach the soaps that Lee spoke of. He listened intently to Lee as he browsed. Raising various bottles and bars to his nose to give them a sniff in curiosity. "Never really thought about why I came here. Just felt rude to not take you up on your offer to visit." The boss says, taking a gentle smell of a bar of soap. Nose crinkling as he was assaulted by the violent smell of what he assumed was lavender. Except this bar was extremely overloaded with the scent. He wondered if he used this one if he would be oppressively lavender scented. "Spiritual guidance sounds interesting, although, not really sure what that means, y'know?" He takes a sniff again, settling for a softer smelling soap. Eventually scooting his way back to where he sat to give the monk some space with his hair. He considered for a moment to ask if he needed help. But decided against it since it felt like an invasion of personal space. Sett was however quite impressed with how long the others hair was. Quite frankly, it was the first time he spoke to someone who had more hair than him.

"I do not mind the soaps the acolytes have picked out. In fact, there's many I like." The monk holds up the bar he had been using to lather his hair in reference; it was one of the pretty, custom shaped ones, whose original design was lost with use. He was done with the soap shortly after, leaning to the side of the basin and placing the bar in the small basket. "I am appreciative of you actually taking the time to visit," Lee assures, offering the smallest bow of his head. "I actually wasn't sure when you would, but I was pleasantly surprised just how soon you had."

With the soap fully incorporated in the monk's very long hair, he takes a moment to lean back and submerge all of its length, freeing his locks of the lather. He is ever-graceful with all his movements, even something as simple as bathing. Lee squeezes some of the access water from his hair before letting it drape over one shoulder.

"Spiritual guidance can be many things. Many have come with no idea where to begin, and they end up finding what they needed without ever realizing they had needed it in the beginning." Lee is being rather vague, but at the same specific, leaving his example open-ended for easier interpretation. "Perhaps it is the same for you."

The monk is quiet for a good, long moment then, taking his cup of tea and enjoying it. Once the cup was empty after a number of sips, he refilled it once more, taking one final sip before setting it down again. Lee was leaning against the back of the basin at this point, arms framing the top of the treated wood.

"I felt you staring, by the way."

Lee can't help but chuckle, breaking his meditation, overjoyed to be assailed by tiny paws and soft mewls. The monk happily scoops up each kitten one at a time to shower them with affection, placing a soft kiss on each of their foreheads.

"I am certainly being overrun," he laughs, juggling between each kitten as they vied for attention and crawled all over the monk, playing with the loose fabric that hung from his clothes. He carefully taking each kitten all together in his arms enough to allow him to tug Sett down beside him, placing one on his chest and another in his hand.

A knife called grief.

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything. You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

Tagged by @vulpesse

° • * ˚ ⁀ ➷ @ofshojin , a tender love letter : ❛  you’re  perfect  in  the  way  that  you  are .  ❜

　𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐈𝐅 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐔𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 ? a perpetual research for what cannot be obtained, a dream unattainable and beyond the reach of mortals, a curse [ ... ] countless have lost themselves within the depths of its abstract concept and ahri, willingly or not, has long since become the perfect maw that lures and devours ▬▬ after all, where can perfection be found if not in death ? his words are familiar, but the vulpine - she perceives unadulterated honesty within the vocalization of gentle syllables ; it ignites something where the heart and soul meet, in the dark profundity of a ribcage that is garden and graveyard both.

The monk comes when beckoned out of mere respect, hands nestled and hidden within his robes, head shrouded beneath his hood. Truthfully, he had not expected to meet someone such as her along his path, but there was a certain pull to her that he felt. And though he gave into that pull, he was ever cautious. Even the dragon within him stirred before this woman. "I can offer many things, but it is not up to me what I would be giving." He spoke solemnly, approaching the tree with careful steps, wearing a gentle smile as he addresses the fox. "Whether it be company, guidance, or a friend, that is up for you to decide. I go where I am needed — and perhaps that is what drew me to you. I cannot say for certain."

Taking her up on her offer, Lee positioned himself beneath the tree, taking advantage of the shade that the canopy cast down on the grassy floor beneath. Pointing himself outward toward the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, the monk sat cross legged, his satchel placed beside him. "Thank you for allowing me to join you."

He rustled within his satchel moments later, procuring an ornate tea kettle that was packed very neatly as to not spill whatever it contained. Setting out a cloth in front of him, he looked to be setting up a small space to enjoy tea, using a magic stone to heat the kettle from beneath.