MARIAM • HIATUS

Evidently, I'm not too thrilled about the glaring similarities between Mariam and Ambessa (older black woman, scarred face, military background, strong principles, gifted children, etc.). It is a kind of warped compliment, I suppose, and it shouldn't discourage me from writing her, but it does.

What next? Well, I'll continue chipping away at her new character sheet, making some major changes as I do. I cannot guarantee they will ever see the light of day; my interest has obviously waned.

Or I could bow out elegantly and say, "This story's already been beautifully told." We'll see. It is still a pleasure logging on every now and then to see what everyone else has been up to though, so I am not yet ready to let go completely.

The show was otherwise excellent. Solid writing overall, and the soundtrack was sublime. I especially loved Stromae's contribution.

"Not if I can help it."

/ @sinisterness

@sinisterness, unprompted • always welcome!

That red mane of hair was infamous. So saturated it seemed unnatural though no hair dye could yield such an even, intensely-hued result. That, and she happened to know the parent who donated it. A different well-meaning mutual acquaintance once advised against drawing comparisons between the two with either present.

Mariam's reaction was immediate, as if she'd been watching. Only natural she would, considering that even in a room full of killers, Katarina stood out by virtue of sheer skill and strength of will. Hardly an eye could be found in the chamber that hadn't been trained on her at some point. She weaved between dinner-goers like a silk ribbon though she was far from harmless or delicate.

Mariam nodded. "Likewise," she replied, drawing her companion's attention.

He was a young Shuriman man, a hair's breadth taller than her, dressed similarly in Tereshni's colors of blue and cream, maritime-themed jewellery in both silver and gold dangling from his neck and ears. Mariam had swapped such adornments for smatterings of metallic paint across her scars.

The young man gave them some semblance of privacy, limply rolling his head away while remaining within arm's reach of Mariam as though he were acting on her orders.

Mariam made no move as to bow in greeting, and didn't look like she was expecting her to either.

Hello, thank you so much! 😻

It's a snap of Nubia from DC comics! She's gorgeous and a total Mariam vibe. I only edited the colors to fit Mariam's palette.

Sivir rushed to throw all pretense out of the window, now being openly hostile, but Mariam was confident in her ability to turn this anger to her advantage. She set the cup down gently, meeting Sivir's aggression with the sterness of a mother.

"I see. You believe I set up that terrible job years ago. You're wrong."

Mariam licked her back teeth, tasting the sweetness of the tea. The job's details were still fresh in her mind grace to some late-night reading the day previous. She lightly smacked her lips as she related some back to her.

"The young woman who accompanied you, who I suspect attempted murder to cover up her tracks, was your employer's daughter. They're both part of a Noxian tradition that produces spies and seducers. Whatever her fate, whatever you removed from the ruin or released from within it–" a pause, made that much somber by Mariam's slow expiration, "had a terrible ripple effect, with yourself at the center. I doubt that was their intention. In fact, I'd wager something completely unexpected happened."

The sweltering heat from the ovens had infiltrated the space, making sweat roll down Mariam's back. She wasn't thrilled with her interlocutor's attitude either, and got to thinking Sivir might have gone crackers after the experience, making her a liability. Her own pride, a relic of tribal living, smoldered inside of her, no less vicious though swaddled in fine linens and tasseled sashes.

Mariam leaned forward, resting her jaw on her fist. She adjusted her hips until the butt of her sword jutted out towards her elbow, one arcing motion away from cleanly swiping at Sivir's throat. She could see it, clear as day, like one of those Piltovan moving pictures she'd had the pleasure of watching some years back. Her fantasies notwithstanding, Mariam decided she would only resort to violence in self-defense; mirroring Sivir's feelings.

"Soreana made several mistakes. Chiefest among them was sending her inexperienced daughter into an uncharted section of the ruins. It might've been some kind of initiation, or an attempt to advance her career. Either way, I don't mourn her loss, if indeed she is dead," Mariam confessed, fingering a stray curl away from her eyes. Having made her stance clear, she saw it fit to return to the topic at hand.

"You'll note my jobs are well-informed, professional, profitable."

Mariam listed a couple of those jobs off of the top of her head. Some harkened back years, when Sivir's name hadn't yet made it on any gold-cornered ledgers. The Noxian then inclined her head to take stock of others present.