#futureforged

i. Inquisitive. / Is it not true that the reason they've even met was because the Jayce is too curious for his own good? The younger explorer has definitely taken note, from their very first meeting to the way his brain operates through the entirety of their friendship. Always wanting to know how, how did he learn of this given artifact? How did he escape the arrow trap? How did ancient Shuriman cultures discover automatic weaponry that works years later? ( Man, he doesn't know. Curses? Magic? ) Nevertheless, Ezreal is a pot calling the kettle black - this shared love for knowledge and acquisition is what binds them together, within the various Piltover restaurants and each other's apartments to talk for hours and hours on end.

ii. Excitable ; anxious. / There's a nervous energy that radiates through Jayce that even years later, with establishment as an academic and adjunct to the council. Given the rise in tension between Zaun and Piltover, the discovered highs and lows of his life's research - heck, Ezreal would probably feel the same way if he were in that position. It's why the explorer spends a cumulative few months total in the City of Progress, enjoys the cultures of all of Runeterra, and has never... Tried to discover Hextech? ( He doesn't think he's smart enough to regardless, but you'll never see him downplay so openly. ) Yet, this trait has been there since their times as students, each act of rebellion he was compelled to do wrought with second thoughts . . . At some point, Ezreal has just connected the dots that it may be just the way he is.

"..."

Darck stared at the literal Egg that Jayce had just handed her. Holding the item in her hand with a deadpan expression. It wasn't even that time of the year anymore. It was just about god damned painted Egg jokes how it all started, and now it's just a curse.

"Jayce, I am giving you the polite good graces to give you a ten second head start before I feed this egg to you one way or another. Or worse, Egg your hair."

She didn't wanna actually hurt the guy after all. Couldn't just let this slide though...

she remembers hot steam and the pool of pink washing away from a barely-closed wound in her thigh. lightening rivulets of maroon, red, pink, and clear water skate down into the tiles until the stream ran clear. she remembers vi's back, trudging into the dark. oil and water. not meant to be. (she thinks back to it now in fits — she curses it for how it made her feel like nothing more than a teenage girl, but mostly for how she wishes she could go back to that. back to everything that happened before — before.)

she remembers being alone until she wasn't. a grisly smile of condensation dripped cooling water down the scape of the mirror as she tucked the corner of the towel across her body, and that's all there was to it. panic bubbling up in clammy skin, a half-lived gasp dying in her throat — and then nothing.

she remembers waking up, clothed, dry, muzzled, and trussed. the undercity is perpetually dark, smog licking at each window pane as though there's nowhere else to go — then again, perhaps there isn't. for a civilisation built in mining fissures, she's grown to understand just how resourceful they can be. vi was always the vision of survival at all cost, and the more shimmer leaks through the vents and scaling up through daubed homes and crooked sewerage tributaries, the more abstract survival becomes. (she remembers trading her gun for medicine. she remembers seeing how shimmer ravages and ruins.)

the shift in jayce's shoulders pulls her out of that memory once and for all. a quiet shudder creeps down her spine and she turns slightly away from him, feeling her knees knock together and that familiar seed of doubt begin to grow in the dark, empty cracks threatening to give away within her. she remembers it all, but more than that, she remembers the muzzle of her gun pointed directly at her. jinx.

i had the shot. i had the shot and i didn't take it. she's a mad woman! she's crazy! there's no saving her, and i should've known better! shoulders sag as she runs the tip of her thumb across the nail bed of her little finger.

— plus a glass of sweet milk 🥛

. . .

after vander's senseless and violent death, the heart of the underground, ekko adopted the ❝ by any means necessary ❞ philosophy in his future endeavors, orchestrating guerrilla assaults against criminal authorities and piltover's elite. growing up in a hazardous environment, nurtured by kind parents and unforgiving street elements, he lives by a personal moral code, inspired mainly by vander. while engaged in his war on crime and the world that seeks to cause damage, there is a modicum of fairness he'll spare—albeit reluctantly.

betrayal is a recurring theme in his life: a brotherhood that went down in a bloodbath between silco and vander, vi's personal connection with a topsider that happens to be a enforcer—an agent of the very entity that oppresses zaunites—and the repeated course of traitorous actions by jinx. trust, trust is a luxury ekko can't afford. it's hard for him to give. he's not some superhero crusading to redeem and reform agents of chaos. instead, his concern lies in the safety of the "little people":. the downtrodden, the drug addicts, the street orphans, and the victims of the undercity's internal strife.

so, to the question of whether ekko is merciful: mostly, no. to radically transform zaun into the beauty he knows it is at its core, he and the firelights are committed to appropriately dealing with anyone that poses a major threat to progress. the wicked have not rested long before his parents thought to create a family, and as he's grown into his power, it can be difficult to remember when was the last time he was acquainted with the pleasure of sleep. soundless sleep is impossible with the cries of the voiceless and gunfire from the frequent gang wars perpetually bleeding his heart for a better tomorrow.

his people can't barely afford the bare necessities—so how could he afford mercy toward those who deny them the right to live?

"Now, girls, this is my friend, Jayce."

Summer smiles as she gestures towards @futureforged, her daughters looking up at him with awed expressions. She had wanted to do this for quite a while, to introduce Jayce to her family. Just in case she would one day have to leave them.

The younger of the two, Ruby, has a wide smile on her face as she reaches up towards Jayce. She seems to be making a grabbing motion, which her mother laughs at. "That one's Ruby. I think she likes you, aha." She notes. "I think she wants to be picked up. Ruby, what do we say?"

"P.... Please!" Ruby says almost timidly, with her hands still in the air.

"That's a good girl." Summer leans down and pats her daughter on the head as she praises her.

The elder daughter, who looks more like her father than anything else, isn't as excitable as her younger sister. Yang seems almost cautious, wary of the strange man she doesn't recognize. She has her arms crossed and almost seems like she's afraid. It's almost as if she's been greatly hurt by something and doesn't trust easily.

patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . starter   for   @futureforged

                  street   brawls   was   a   practiced   sung   VERBATIM   .   every   punch   ,   feint   ,   scratch   ,   it   was   like   a   troubadour    ;    practiced   with   his   hands   as   every   guttural   force   was   ripped   from   the   jowls   of   the   loser   .   sett   implored   the   crowd   to   witness   ionian   dexterity   &   among   others   recognize   he   wasn’t   someone   to   be   mucking   around   with   .   his   fist   was   entwined   with   the   thick   fur   of   the   man’s   facial   hair   ,   his   breath   smelling   of   distinct   alcohol   &   fish   .   sett   cuts   with   a   fist   &   drives   their   skull   to   the   pavement   .   coupled   with   a   naked   slap   of   his   palm   to   smear   it   in   . 

                  although   the   BOSS   had   no   qualms   about   settling   matters   in   the   public   eye   ,   he   was   reminded   of   his   foreign   descent   .   the   key   difference   between   ionia   &   piltover   was   the   presence   of   law   enforcement   .   unlike   piltover   ,   ionia   is   just   a   continent   ,   not   a   nation   .   no   government   ,   but   one   might   be   ruled   by   a   council   of   elders   while   another   has   a   chieftain   .   sett   was   disregarded   by   the   elected   elders   of   his   former   vastayan   clan   ,   deeming   him   tainted   because   of   his   human   blood   .   ionia   sure   had   a   thing   for   disliking   change   ,   the   unfamiliar   .   &   it   certainly   seemed   piltover   was   (   somewhat   )   the   same   way   . 

                  under   the   law   ,   sett   had   the   audacity   to   laugh   ,   even   if   it   was   barely   more   than   a   breathy   chuckle   .   his   public   nuisance   created   enough   attention   he   would   be   accused   as   the   perpetrator   ,   unlike   the   man   he’d   beaten   senseless   ,   who   started   this   in   the   first   place   .   he   was   cuffed   &   sett   didn’t   resist   .   he   watched   attentively   ,   his   ears   catching   something   in   relation   of   a   prison   house   .   stillwater   hold   ,   they   called   it   .   a   corrections   facility   .   sett   could   feel   himself   exhale   ,   his   voice   tethering   of   mockery   . 

                  〝   i   ain’t   hurt   him   that   bad   — 〞

                  his   accent   dribbled   of   gruff   ionian   ,   his   words   slurring   slightly   as   he   tried   to   speak   a   semblance   of   noxian   ,   an   old   kinship   of   his   .   thick   &   sharp   like   the   texture   of   porridge   ,   vigorous   like   the   ARMOR   of   a   noxian   —   cleaving   through   cut   up   &   dried   lips   .   stubbled   chin   twitches   ,   a   disinterested   look   mounting   on   his   face   .   the   enforcers   that   patrolled   the   streets   of   piltover   didn’t   seem   to   pay   him   attention   ,   only   just   a   sheer   jerk   forward   with   the   heel   of   their   rifle   .   he   was   only   reminded   of   a   deep   cut   grazing   his   temple   by   the   dull   pain   throbbing   bitterly   along   the   side   of   his   face   .   rugged   profile   stricken   with   cold   &   dried   up   streaks   of   blood   .   his   old   blood   of   life   -   sustaining   fluid   .   had   he   been   injured   in   the   fight   ?   sett   could   give   credit   where   it’s   due   —   not   many   can   SUCCESSFULLY   land   a   punch   on   him   to   begin   with   .   if   they   missed   ,   they   were   met   with   a   concussive   blow   . 

                  his   nostrils   flared   slightly   at   the   smell   of   fresh   blood   ,   wondering   if   it   was   from   him   or   the   fluids   he   had   gotten   on   his   hands   after   his   skirmish   .   regardless   ,   sett   chalked   up   his   evening   maybe   spent   in   some   prison   cell   .   or   whatever   this   nation   had   him   chained   to   .   his   wrists   uncomfortably   shift   beneath   the   golden   rings   of   hextech   -   cuff   links   . 

                  however   ,   the   misfortune   of   that   occurring   was   mercifully   exaggerated   ,   only   being   lent   in   forward   to   one   of   the   council   members   of   this   governed   city   .   canines   click   together   unevenly   ,   his   thick   brows   creasing   .   did   he   really   cause   that   much   of   a   public   outcry   that   he   was   being   held   in   CONTEMPT   by   foreign   politicians   ?   he   desperately   groped   for   a   cutting   retort   ,   anything   to   get   him   out   of   this   situation   .   but   everything   that   came   to   mind   just   died   on   the   tip   of   his   tongue   .

                  further   withheld   when   he   happened   to   put   a   face   to   title   .   his   golden   eyes   fixated   on   familiar   piltovan   clothing   ,   the   signature   leather   coat   with   gear   &   cog   elements   on   it   .   the   man   was   tall   ,   muscular   ,   &   tan   .   styled   dark   hair   &   bright   hazel   eyes   .   staring   back   at   him   with   some   authority   to   his   provocation   until   it   evidently   softened   to   realization   .   sett   could   feel   a   wrinkle   twitch   at   the   corner   of   his   lips   ,   a   forced   lopsided   smile   . 

                  〝   shit   ,   if   i’dah   known   y’d   be   a   politician   ,   i   would’ve   made   a   bigger   ruckus   .   〞   he   tried   to   speak   in   the   open   air   . 

                  he   would   wince   at   a   piece   of   cotton   pressed   against   his   temple   ,   the   pain   reignited   with   an   intense   sensation   ,   causing   him   to   wince   .   a   minor   curse   is   ripped   from   his   lips   .   sett   quivered   slightly   ,   steeling   his   feet   against   the   floor   ,   anticipating   jayce’s   comment   ,   something   within   his   line   of   professionalism   in   front   of   the   wardens   present   behind   him   . 

                  〝   before   you   say   anything   ,   the   bastard   started   it   .   tell   your   dogs   to   get   off   my   tail   —   〞