F A L L E N.

His hard eyes softened as she removed her hand, and with them what he perceived as immediate threat. He took a step back, turning to face her completely this time, curious gaze moving on her cloak, trying to gather more information about her being. He stood much taller than her, physically almost a giant. Yet it was she that felt bigger than the two. The most of which came when she removed her hood. Beauty, hard to describe, more than he originally thought, and a mystery that captivated his soul with but a smile. But looks and power was not enough to make this man bow.

“I see, then you are indeed, some sort of diety. Then i think, calling you as i chose is even more fitting. But i wonder, why does someone like you, want to hear my story. The story of a man who has walked this earth so little. Where is the catch? Or is this but a dream and i will wake up shortly? If it is one, then it better last a little longer.”, he smiled for the first time at her, proud and confident and unyielding, even in the fact of darkness strong enough to devour him. But he had no fear, for her black flames were warm to him, they felt familiar, and welcoming.

“That is fine then. I, too, have may questions. But i shall have you know, i do not trade my soul for any power you may offer. I have been asked before.”

she takes a moment to process the words he speaks, those colored eyes aglow with, at first, befuddlement before she let’s out a hearty bark of laughter, the action shaking her shoulders, her very body as she grasps her self with a mock victimized expression, her brows creased as she struggles to maintain her composure, a fire lit in those empty eyes, which seem, strangely, perhaps, a bit FULLER.

                            ❝ a DEITY ? SOULS ? now, warrior, i do not deal with either of those things, you speak with someone who has long FALLEN from such terms, and i do not wish to bring such fear upon mortals such as yourself. as for your question, i have chosen to walk among you mortals, alongside those who cannot fly, and as such i wish to speak and communicate among them. is this not a right i have ? ❞

she moves a hand to her hip, the other outreached, her head moving gracefully forwards to bow to allow her hair to fall upon her face, a strange veil of sorts, befitting of her title. the cloak that is draped upon her shoulders folds as she moves, closer, touching her hand carefully to the other’s shoulder and allowing but a surge of her warmth through the other’s being. she smiles, a dangerous expression but softened with an ageless gaze.

That crooked smile she flashed him was rather charming, so he thought, those blue eyes lighting up even as she said she would pass on the offer. “Company is equally important to a good feast!” The God spoke in such a jovial tone, his smile wide, and beaming. He was obviously in a good humor, taking a bite out of one of the loaves of bread she had tossed at him before. And then, in a sudden, mischievous moment, chucked one back at her when it appeared she wasn’t too focused on it. “Pay back~”

she is, if but momentarily, dazzled by that SHINING, that dark hair falling to frame her face as she tilts her head with a soft laughter, those fingers dancing up her arm in a thoughtful gesture as she watches him partake in the bread she had thrown. a man who seems to carry sunlight upon his words, light in his eyes. it brought a painful memory to head, and the smile she carries becomes nostalgic, rueful . . . well, until she finds a loaf hitting her straight in the head. she sputters, and despite herself a laughter bubbles from her throat. she extinguishes it quickly with a mock scoff, her hand reached for the loaf, preparing to toss it back.

                                  ❝ to throw such a gift back at a fallen aspect . . . and to think a GOD carries such NAUGHTINESS, i suppose a lesson is at hand ! ❞

Morgana loved her sister, still loves her for they were so close back in the day, when they were but humans without wings. but she lost Kayle the day that the sword fell from the sky, and along with Kayle she lost her family ( for her mother left them for the cause of justice, with Kayle close on her heels and her father dying to their rage in the sky ). thus, one of Morgana’s highest values is FAMILY. she had a family once and lost it to the aspects, and at this point she wonders whether she will ever get it back. 

send hearts for the FALLEN // *accepting. ( @voidbornriven )

💘 - romantic.💛 - platonic / best friends.

“Thank you kindly!” The other smiled as more bread was thrown at him, gathering it in his arms, with a wide smile on his lips.”A feast of yeast for the night! Care to join me? Or do you have more for yourself?”

normally, the throwing of food objects were considered an INSULT by mortals, although from the dance of power and the acrid taste of lightning upon her tongue told her that this was no mere mortal. she returns his smile with a crooked one of her own, for that blind optimism is, somehow, quite infectious.

     years growing up lux had heard the myth of the veiled one, but it wouldn’t be until years later that she found out that the myths were indeed based on reality. her own thirst for knowledge and acceptance had brought her to where she believed the woman would be, and it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that the veiled being new her name, but that didn’t stop her from visibly flinching. “ i’ve come for… a story. ” she’s careful with her words, she doesn’t want to offend nor bore the stranger. no, she needed to talk to someone who might actually understand. someone who knows about demacia’s hidden history, the history she longed to understand herself since childhood.

                 “ i want to know about why demacia is the way it is. and if my hunch is correct, you’re the one that has the answers. “ cerulean gaze drifts over her own shoulder, once she was satisfied that the two were indeed alone; fingers pull down the cowl that she had covering her golden hair. “ what did my teachers not tell me about the past magics of demacia? history that could’ve helped me when i was struggling to hide my own? ”

the fallen one observes this young mage with a boundless gaze, her brow quirking, if but subtly, as the young woman flinches at her words. her own cloak-hood remains raised, that glowing gaze fixated upon the bright-one as she lowers the cowl that hides her identity from the masses ( for of course, no SANE MORTAL would come to a TRAITOR, especially a Demacian noblewoman and one who has fallen from her kingdom ). she knows LUXANNA, knows of this lady of lumosity and of her secret, for Morgana hears such rumors and murmurs from the soil . . . she knows the consequences her words may inflict upon this child. her fingers move to dance up her arm, those eyes narrowing.

The mercenary’s emerald eyes had already fallen on the woman as he passed by her. How could he not, after all? She looked even more out of place than he was in this land, both clad in black among shiny fake smiles. She was beautiful and elegant and smelled of raw power, and she was undoubtly magical, her pure presence sending as much chill down his spine as much as her dark beauty did. 

But despite his interest and curiocity, he decided to do what he always did best, and be on his way minding his own buisness. Something that was interrupted as he felt her fingers around his hand. Soft fingers could exhibit so much strength, and words that confirm her courage and wisdom. Yet they were not light words, and Blis’ eyes hardened as they turned and pierced into the darkness of her own. 

“I was born on noxian soil yes, but it is no master of mine. I am no enemy of Demacia, and i am here legally. Who are you though, my lady, you who holds so much power inside her, barely human, yet would accuse me of being an enemy?”

his words bring a chuckle to her lips, that dark hair obscuring one eye as she shifts her head in a curious tilt as that steely gaze meets her own, her own expression one of dark AMUSEMENT. her fingers retreat, slowly, moving to rest instead upon her own arm as those painted lips move to an ambiguous smile, her feet shifting as the hood of the cloak that conceal her wings lowers with her free hand. she peers upon him with better observation, noting the battle-scars that litter his skin, the marks that only the grisly mars of BATTLE could inflict upon a person. when she speaks again there is a vague sense of amicable humor in her tone, her smile widening.