#finalwhispers

 “If only you had mastered just that.”

 The peace within Shen’s words is as tightly strung as his own form. A bargaining for the other to come quietly. Or perhaps, a sort of tense demonstration between the two men.

 One of all the Eye has overcome since the days of their first, volatile meeting... Fears mastered, enemies captured, conflicts and investigations resolved as timely as the rising and setting of the sun. All, save for two. One meant for the blade, the other for bars. A certainty carried within the calm of an evenly spoken baritone.

 (At least, that is what Shen has told himself.)

 He’s made mistakes, but no longer. He won’t be as foolish this time as he was the last. His arm itches for the spectral blade strapped to his back, yet, he refrains.

@finalwhispers​: offers leona a sunflower uwu

⤷        UNPROMPTED  ASKS     / /     ALWAYS  ACCEPTING.        ⤶

“Iva! My friend, you shouldn’t have.”

The bloom is fresh-cut, held out with the green stem wrapped in a square of crumply tissue paper; the petals themselves spread almost as broad as his open hand. Senri takes it from Iva, and the flower is still dewy to the touch. The colors — orange and deep, burnt red — bleed so bright, she imagines it a miniature sunset, cupped soft-cool between both her hands.

vladimir is, to no one's surprise, a bat. and i have a hard time figuring jhin out bc i keep going to insects. which would be a mantis.

“A gift for you, Captain,” calls one of the guards.

Irelia rounds the corner of the open corridor, a warm breeze blowing between the pillars. Business in the Placidium was plentiful even in the early morning hours, and a handful of guards salute to her as she walks. “Oh?” Her gaze settles on the rectangular box, and her eyes narrow. “Has the Order of the Lotus sent their donation early today?”

“No, Captain.”

“Stand back, Mitsuri.”

The woman, scarcely into her adult years, gingerly takes a step back, as if the box was some kind of explosive - and Irelia doesn’t know enough to say otherwise. Irelia calls for someone to fetch a long piece of cloth, and to wrap up the box so they can safely examine it.

Another guardswoman dons a pair of gloves and opens the lid. Since the Brotherhood had accelerated their activities, Irelia had learned to look her gift horses in the mouth, and to not let even seemingly harmless acts of charity go unchecked. She sees the petals, arranged around the thin wood of a violin bow with a dedicated florist’s care.

Almost too much care...

“Stand back,” Irelia orders the guards. “Put the box on a table.” As the guards give her space, Irelia calls for one of her blades, holding it in the air over the box before swinging her hand down and sending the edge straight through the box. Irelia hears the clashing of steel against the serrations of other metal, and her face displays a grim frown.

“I thought so.” She walks towards the box, seeing the hole her blade made covered around the edge by sharp, minuscule razors.

And in the corner of the box, a note written in calligraphy. “Find the music. Listen.”

Irelia mutters a curse to herself, before ordering the box sent away. “Close one.”

“Who would’ve sent something like that to us, Captain?” Mitsuri asks.

The noble merely eyes the man who is on his couch. A wineglass in his hand while wearing one of his favourite silk robes. There was no humour in his eyes although he had a small smile on his face. He could sense there was mischief in the air around him. Appearing cute only made him that more suspicious.

i don’t agree with these ships :/ i think they’re problematic

few  things  in  the  world have  the  power  to  strike  fear  into  her  walled  off  soul.  on  her  own  for  as  long as  she  can  remember  until  she  made  her  own  family,  ashe  is  keen on  the  knowledge  that  she  is  the  lioness  of  her  pride,  the  alpha  of  her  pack  of  wolves.  she  leads  through  strength  and  fearlessness,  and  that  means  that  lack  of  fright  translates  over  into  nearly  everything she  does.  but  there  have  been  times,  few  and  far  between,  over  the  past  few  decades  in  which  on  occasion  she  has  felt that  inkling  of  fear,  the  climb  of  despair  up  her  spine.  it  comes  on  nights  like  these,  when  the  arizona  sky  is  clouded  over  and  the  roads  are  black  and  silent,  not  a  songbird  or  cricket  to  be  heard  as  she  stares  from  the  back  porch  of  her  mansion. 

she’s  without  her  gang here,  but  not  without  BOB  or  her  rifle.  it’s  clutched  close  to  the  front  of  her  lace  trimmed  night  gown,  even  closer when  she  sees  him  -  feels  that  icy  chill  of  despair  running  up  her  spine  and  over  her  shoulders.  he’d  be  beautiful in  his  own  way,  if  it  weren’t  for  her  intuition that  this  creature  brought  nothing  but  horror  wherever  he  went. 

                           she  clicks  the  safety  off  on  viper,  and  stares  him  down.