#fcrgiven

There was salt upon his tongue when at last the ship docked upon Ionian shores, the morning sky bleary; clouded with promise when, for the first time in days, he stepped upon solid ground. And though his were feet accustomed to the falsity of any promise, be it a deal or the very earth beneath his feet, so too did it lurch beneath him - the sway of the sea following him, even now.

Sharp eyes squinted. This was a weakness yet to be rectified, and were he home in the Immortal Bastion, this weakness would surely have brought steel through the gut; coinpurse cut from his side; and his name left for the scurrying rats.

Yet none seemed to notice. To his right, three sailors stood, raucous laughter and something Talon did not understand repeated in ever-louder; ever-hysterical tones. The amusement of sailors did not interest him, but his lack of understanding grated him nontheless.

Perhaps that was precisely why Katarina - disgraced daughter of his Master, the General - fleed to Ionia. Perhaps she had imagined, however foolishly, that his search would stop at Noxus' borders.

(Had her emotions truly addled her so, he wondered. Memories of missions beyond Noxian borders; the honed edge of their blades and a lingering disapppointment, an unwelcome intrusion. They once had hunted together - theirs, blades in servitude of the General and in servitude of Noxus. Yet judgement had since fallen and he, named her executioner, would not - could not - seek respite until he saw his mission through).

It was precisely her emotions that would guide him to her. The lessons carved into them both ensured survival no matter the environment, yet someone like her, accustomed to a life in the city, would be loath to give up its conveniences.

Hide someplace remote and Talon would be unable to follow - who could whisper of her existence, where none had stepped foot? Yet she would instead hope to lose him in the forests, or overpower him - and circle back to outskirting villages where daily troubles were worth more coin than the occasional stranger passing through.

(Disgust welled within him, to think like her. Yet cold rationality demanded dissection of the target, no matter how irrational).

Dwelling upon Katarina a moment longer - she would surely head inland from Fae'lor and seek refuge in the forests. Perhaps head further south, though he doubted it, and catch him offguard if she could. Yet a river lay between him and the mainland, and he was not so desperate as to swim across.

His eyes scanned the port - yet in the bustle, it seemed that the loud (and perhaps, drunk) sailors were his best bet. His hand itched with instinct; the whisper of a memory; a life once lived stolen coin to stolen coin.

             𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐄'𝐒  𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒  instantly  searches  for  someone  to  rescue  her,  but  today's  been  awfully  quiet.  heartsteel  members  do  have  their  own  flats,  of  course,  but  this  particular  apartment  is  rented  for  them  all  to  live  in.  great  for  pr,  too  —  to  record  them  messing  around  all  the  time.  and  it's  not  even  staged.

yet  today,  there  was  only  her,  aphelios  and  yone,  and  she  didn't  even  know  the  last  ordered  food,  and  if  he  did  —  why  not  with  the  delivery?  or  why  didn't  he  ask  phel  or  lunie  herself  to  pick  it  up?

interesting.

alune's  not  complaining.  she's  a  huge  fan  of  true  damage,  albeit  never  expressed  so  to  yone;  never  asked  for  an  autograph,  nor  for  a  meeting  with  the  other  band.  now,  she's  face  to  face  with  their  producer.  but  not  only  that.

beats?  aphelios  makes  beats.  great  ones.  but  yasuo  is  a  legend.  it's  a  completely  different  level.  it's...  it's...

she  stands  there,  mouth  slightly  agape,  with  the  eyes  of  a  deer  caught  in  the  headlights.  yone  said  he'll  be  back  shortly.  phel  is  taking  a  nap.  entertaining  the  guest  is  entirely  on  her.  console  in  one  hand  (animal  crossing  on  phel's  basic  coloured  switch),  she  has  taken  the  food  filled  bag  with  the  other.

the  kitchen  is  in  the  open  space  in  their  living  room,  so  alune  takes  a  step  back  and  fully  lets  yasuo  in.

❝  do  you,  like,  want  to  eat  with  us?  ❞  she  asks,  shyly.  ❝  i—  i  don't  know  how  much  yone  ordered.  i  didn't  know  he  ordered  food  at  all.  but  you  can  have  mine,  i—if  you  want.  ❞

the  little  confession  is  said  quieter  and  almost  breathlessly.  oh  moon.  OH  MOON.  yasuo  is  h e r e.  he  came  in.  he  follows  her  to  the  kitchen.

she  feels  her  heartbeat  quicken.

and  also  the  embarassment  of  looking  like...  like this.

With the help of Poof and some friends, he had given up his hunt for some time, almost forgetting about it until recently. Rumours had spread in some backwater towns and he couldn't help but feel his gut twist as those memories flooded back. And thus, had he decided to follow those leads with the help of his ioninu.

"Poof, are you smelling it? Are we close?"

He asked the dog on which he rode. Large enough to carry a human or two but with a personality more gentle than a cloud, Poof borked softly. "Good."

Poof picked up speed, nearing their prey. Watari's palms started to sweat. What could he expect? No, he had to keep his head on straight. Confront him. Take him back. Be celebrated. Be rid of your guilt.

"Yasuo!" Watari called out as he spotted the wanderer. That ponytail stuck out like a sore thumb. "I have come for the unforgiven!"

Watari dismounted Poof and motioned for his pet to step aside, a safe distance away. Poof reluctantly obeyed, his hair raised but mostly focusing on Watari.

"Face me!"

Yasuo was one the last people that Ezreal expected to hang out with; though, he was the brother of HEARTSTEEL’s producer, and part of True Damage, whom Ezreal had hung around before ( though, around Ekko, mostly ). He wasn’t sure who had the more intimidating aura, if he was being honest, but they both seemed to share it, which put Ezreal on edge a little bit. Maybe he was just nervous.

Music played in the room, and it helps calm him down a little before a drink is placed down in front of him. Ezreal is quick to take it into his hand, swirling it around idly before taking a sip, IMMEDIATELY placing it back down and scrunching his nose at it. “Dude, what is this!?” His face is twisted in one of displeasure—why was it so strong!?

annoyance wasn't quite what she was feeling.

in fact, she was happy to have an opportunity to work with her bandmate once more. if there was someone who would uphold her vision and make her goals shine, it was him. the frustration came from the fact yet another Max Martin wannabe had the chance to run his mouth about his encounter with "the demon diva" to the nearest TMZ reporter.

they could have at least come up with a better name for her.

a perfectly threaded brow arches at his mention of being able to free his plans. her bad mood fades ever so slightly when a low snort escapes her, followed by her body taking the opposing chair with practiced grace and an equally dramatic sigh.

" stop me if you've heard this one before. "

he had definitely heard this one before. at least twice.

" I wanted my video shot a certain way. got mockups done for the props, had whole sketches prepared, two outfits on the go, and this guy comes out as if he calls the shots and decides, outta the blue, to change the setting to somethin' that matches the song's tone as much as Zyra matched those pants last fashion week. "

manicured fingers rub at her temples.

" ya know the rest. I said no, he yelled, I yelled back, he insisted on fuckin' up my vision of my song, and I threw his ass out. "

Leng Yun turns around, eyes wide in partial shock. Who is this man, and how does he- Upon seeing the ronin, Leng Yun hesitates. A moment later, he recalls.

Ah, yes, Yasuo, one of the few people in the world who know about his true nature. All because he’d been careless. Luckily, the ronin had not shown any signs of hostility... yet.

For some reason, any time he sees the other, it takes him a moment to remember exactly who he is. Regardless, the way the ronin approaches, gives the impression that he wants something form Leng Yun. Or maybe he’s just drunk.

“Ah, Yasuo. Ionia is so large, yet we always manage to bump into each other.” As subtle as possible, Leng Yun tries to take a sniff to determine how clean the other is. “What is it you need, friend?”

If he wants to use Leng Yun to escape the heat, he’ll throw him in a lake...