@bismortem said: ❛ will you seek to move from the path of my arrow ? ❜ ;; ❛ ARE YOUR LEGS STRONGER THAN YOUR FATHER'S WERE ? ❜

ON THE EDGES OF HIS SIGHT, jarvan saw them. a fleece as white as the walls of his home, and a shadow as dark as the evening night. each bore eyes like stars, a celestial light ignited behind simplistic masks. they were the children of graves, those who shepherd the lost to the merciful arms of the veiled lady. they spoke like a whisper on the wind and then with the bite of a winter’s chill. the first question brought his thoughts to line, the second brought him to mourning. his hand moved to his wrist in reflex, finger’s ghosting the purple cloth’s hem concealed there and his lips moving in silent prayer. he hung his head for a moment, his posture faltering beneath the weight of his crown.

' i would welcome your arrow whenever it is you choose to release it, i have no desire to shame myself by choosing a coward’s fate. i would like to think my father also faced death bravely, even if he was murdered by mouse masquerading as a monster. ’ confident. unfaltering. his tone was brushed with reverence and melancholy. it was said a true demacian would always face death and embrace lamb, to live life fully and leave no regrets. though, he would be lying if his willingness to face the arrow was purely by tradition and bravado. it was not the first time jarvan had seen the kindred hunters. they had danced about his sight after the weeks of torture he spent at the hands of noxus, he saw them creeping from the shadows as he faded, alone and beyond his home’s borders. truly, there was nothing more peaceful than those lulling moments he felt whilst lying within that fallen tree, whilst dreaming of it being his grave. and, peace was something he was so starved of.

Well.

Death just took his shit.

@bismortem​  whispered  :  ❛ YOU TAUGHT US WHAT IT IS TO BECOME . ❜ // ‘ we will one day teach you what it is to end . ’ // ❛ CAN WE TEACH EACH OTHER WHAT IT IS TO BE ? ❜

there is entropy waiting,  watching.   behind every mask are roots which hold the great wet earth below in a vice grip,  silently gnawing at each end before pearled teeth blink through and moonlight gathers all its skirts up and vanishes.  green things lurk then,  their sickle fangs dripping with red hot sap while praying fervently to the great boughs ahead.  flowers are wilting and she can feel their dying gasps in the back of her throat until she too weeps.  

a sigh.  a groan.  a prayer.  

some are louder than others,  while most do not make a sound at all.   they are both things wraithlike in welt,  one flowing around another in an eternal spiral which reaches neither a crescendo nor an end.  she does not fear those who hunt in the dark,  she does not attempt to push away from wolf’s teeth nor bleed from lamb’s arrows.  she only has her tears. 

 ❛  i promise  ...  ❜   a hushed ancient hum wavers,  cascading across the water’s surface like a pitched stone.  she is gasping,  singing and laughing all at once  ;  the sound breaches mortal ears,  burning through flesh and caressing cheeks for she is in the stars,  and when the mother of life smiles so does the cosmos.  ❛  i promise ... ❜  upon wolf’s maw does she meet him with her own mane,  allowing a kiss here and there to consume him,  allowing her light to pathe below and above him.  when lamb’s hooves shuffle she turns,  now coddling her pale cheeks before melting against the curl of her bow. 

The instinct to back away from the looming shadow nearly takes over her– Not fear of the ominous Wolf and what they could bring along with them, but rather just a little intimidation due to their sheer size compared to hers ( she could not brag about her short stature ). The Wolf was a mighty creature with unimaginable strength, someone as feeble-looking as herself would surely start cracking like a dry stick under a more menacing visit of the Wolf.

But she senses no threat by their proximity and thus, doesn’t move nor flees her spot. She welcomes the Wolf with a friendly smile and she is more than rewarded with an all too gentle gesture. Her day has already turned for the best with just a simple action.

“Thank you. You’re very kind. I-It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” 

She would complement her greeting with a touch or a pet, but… She’d rather give the Wolf their space, too. Hopefully, her smile would suffice for now.

@bismortem

“Now aren’t you a peculiar little creature?” Beneath the rustling forest boughs, a silent present peered at her from midst the shadows. Neraine settled her hand on her hip, Behind her Beelzebub curled in a sunbeam, unperturbed by the presence. “You want something or are you just going to keep staring?

@bismortem

jayce stares at the wolf. he pales visibly when he seems to realize what exactly he’s seeing. he’s not overly fond of folklore, but he’s acquainted with it and by the looks of it, he’s seen death in one of its purest forms.

progress, he’s too young to die like this.

“—what. exactly can i help you with?”

send me a champion and i will tell you the following about them— // @bismortemaccepting! 

how much i like them (0-10): i hate facing leonas but i like them on my team as a true jhin main / tristana enthusiast that loves the setup she gives, as @unbreakvble​ and @tatarfora​ know. her lore is interesting but i’m a diana fan, so—i’ll give her a solid 8? mastery level / points: i don’t play her much outside aram.

✤     ✤    ✤

    orianna lifts a hand, delicate fingers splaying as she stretches it outward. she looks over the cold metal of her arm, reflections gauzy and distorted and near impossible to make out. she has never imagined people as mirrors. they're strange and complicated, filled to bursting with all matter of difficulties.