#hallowedhem

" That's a bold idea. " Mina huffs, arms crossing her chest in annoyance. A hand waves, almost dismissing the motion before letting her gaze settle on Silver. A twitch of her lip follows shortly after, taking in the scent of remaining booze.

HE STANDS BY FALCON'S REST watching with sunset eyes the horses that will guide his friends far away from here. kattigan's words almost echo his thoughts and he slowly turns to look at the older man he hadn't seen in years. “ thimble was right, ” he says swallowing down a sigh. he has influence here, whether he likes it or not. and it won't be long before the sundered houses close in so close that it's diminished. “ i'm useful here, more than any of you. ”

it  felt  temptingly  suffocating  ;  the  ever  distinctive  scent  of  burning  pheromones  ;  so  sweet  &  had  the  delicate  mixture  of  a  chill  .  aphelios  smelt  of  rock  ;  earth  ;  something  of  the  wild  .  it  had  his  vastayan  senses  on  hyper  awareness  &  he  didn’t  know  if  it  was  just  the  pure  fact  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  felt  like  the  man  before  him  could  get  away  with  anything  .  he  smelled  fucking  amazing  .  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  almost  didn’t  budge  when  he  felt  hands  capture  his  face  ,  thumbs  tracing  the  contours  of  his  hardened  facial  features  burdened  by  a  plethora  of  scars  .  each  holding  a  memento  of  previous  battles  ,  as  did  the  rest  of  his  obscenely  cut  -  up  body  .

he  daren’t  move  or  talk  when  aphelios  tries  to  speak  verbally  ,  distinctly  remembering  the  poison  he  inflicted  on  himself  .  although  not  entirely  mute  ;  aphelios  subjected  himself  to  this  ,  often  using  his  hands  to  talk  .  something  about  speaking  &  directly  communicating  with  his  sister  in  some  …  abnormal  presence  of  plane  .  he  is  aware  his  dear  sister  loomed  wherever  aphelios  went  .  alune  —  he  called  her  .

shit  …  was  she  watching  even  now  ?  his  mind  felt  too  muddled  &  too  dilapidated  to  focus  on  anything  else  regarding  the  importance  of  his  pit  .  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  slowly  leaned  into  his  hands  ,  feeling  like  if  he  didn’t  capture  this  moment  ;  he  probably  would  never  again  .  these  hands  holding  his  face  —  they’ve  killed  people  .  assassinated  in  silence  .  it  felt  …  bizarre  .  consorting  with  someone  like  this  he  means  .  he  was  a  crime  boss  —  fucking  around  with  an  assassin  .

he  took  the  bait  to  fuck  around  &  absolutely  find  out  .  (  he  wasn’t  regretful  )  .

❝  phel  …  no  …  no  i  wouldn’t  .  ❞  he  murmured  ,  his  tantalizing  raspy  voice  ,  so  sunken  in  pitch  &  bass  ,  growls  through  his  esophagus  like  hard  liquor  .  ❝  i  don’t  think  i  could  .  i  can’t  …  explain  it  .  ❞  originally  ,  he  had  met  aphelios  on  terms  of  keeping  his  identity  safe  from  extortion  &  a  whole  lotta  mess  because  of  his  lunari  alignment  .  the  man  before  him  was  a  supreme  fighter  &  did  everything  he  could  to  play  his  pawns  right  .

he  fiddled  with  him  well  to  capture  the  boss’  attention  in  the  arena  .  if  anything  …  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  would  fight  for  him  if  asked  .  

“  you  wouldn't  hurt  me  ,  would  you  ?  "  (  classic  /  for @hallowedhem )

❝  i  hope  you  don’t  consider  me  among  the  latter  .  ❞  the  once  mortal  cadence  of  a  demacian  vanguard  spoke  .  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐂  knelt  by  a  water  basin  filled  with  hot  water  he  had  retrieved  from  the  well  outside  ,  stirring  the  water  with  his  hand  ,  sleeves  rolled  up  to  his  elbows  &  a  stray  lock  of  hair  tucked  behind  his  ear  .  he  made  sure  to  keep  a  towel  neatly  folded  annexed  to  the  once  powerful  aspect  of  war  —  atreus’  ammunition  threadbare  &  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐂  only  saw  a  broken  man  .  bound  to  immortality  &  the  boundless  weight  of  an  aspect’s  suturing  duties  .  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐂  shook  droplets  from  his  fingertips  ,  soft  lilac  light  dances  in  the  ripples  ,  assuring  he  yielded  a  subterfuge  of  healing  properties  from  his  crystallized  magic  .  along  with  a  few  minor  additions  like  stripped  petals  he’s  found  in  the  wilderness  during  his  walks  .  floral-scent  steaming  from  the  basin  .

he  moved  to  sharpen  a  copper  blade  against  an  overhanging  leather  strop  ;  moving  to  carefully  remove  bearded  matted  dark  hairs  building  up  into  an  ingrown  parade  of  a  mess  .  he  made  sure  to  properly  comb  &  clean  out  the  long  head  of  a  hair  as  well  —  atreus  seemingly  content  with  letting  himself  go  .  ❝  you’ll  feel  more  refreshed  with  a  good  cleanse  &  a  proper  shave  .  ❞  he  tried  to  lighten  the  mood  ,  aware  that  his  presence  might  appear  to  be  too  encroaching  in  his  personal  home  .  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐂  would  understand  if  atreus  wanted  him  out  .  he  wasn’t  necessarily  invited  ,  but  he  would  answer  the  plea  of  what  the  stars  desired  of  him  .

❝  i’m  certainly  well  -  acquainted  with  your  disdain  for  me  ,  given  our  conflicting  views  .  “  he  breathed  ,  deciding  it  was  best  to  tread  in  untrodden  territory  .  break  the  ice  .

❝  …  i  want  to  help  ,  atreus  .  not  as  an  aspect  ,  but  as  a  man  .  you  want  to  live  as  a  man  ,  i  shall  walk  alongside  you  as  a  man  .  ❞  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐂  maneuvered  the  blade  to  the  slender  angle  of  the  man’s  brick  -  like  jaw  ,  guiding  through  the  thick  layer  of  hair  ,  whittling  it  down  little  by  little  so  as  to  not  procure  blood  .  ❝  …  i  can  even  give  up  my  given  powers  if  that’s  what  you  want  ;  i  can  disperse  everything  that  you  greatly  despise  .  ❞

his  cerulean  -  lilac  encrusted  irises  shifted  as  he  continued  to  help  remove  the  terribly  damaged  hairs  upon  the  other’s  face  .   

❛ i’ve been having a bad day for the past several years ❜ — @hallowedhem

@hallowedhem

❝ I never meant to lead — I fought, and they followed. ❞ Is there courage in it if there is no choice? Irelia knows her boldness better than anyone else; was it bravery, or the last, desperate act of a girl running towards death because she was tired of running away from it? Her blue eyes glance at him with uncertainty. The dancer can feel the power that emanates from the Targonian, but that isn't it. She seldom feels compelled to open up. What's different this time?

Perhaps that he is not Ionian, and would not think her ungrateful for not wanting the pedestal she was placed upon. Perhaps that he seems to know the burden power can be.

Perhaps all that and the fact that if anyone knows how destructive war can be, it was the host of its aspect. He would not judge the wreak it left behind.

Gently, a strand of long dark hair is pushed behind her ear, almost bashful; a girl in her twenties, not some mythic, ageless war hero. She sits, welcoming the soft grass beneath her; love felt and returned by the land beneath her. Irelia bears many scars, visible or not, and she knows she will acquire many others still. She loves Ionia. One day it'll cost her life.

❝ It wasn't my victory, either, ❞ No mention is made of how she cut down most of the Noxian High Command alone. She can't even remember it clearly; most of them are blurred faces in dark metal armor, necks cut and chests stabbed. Swain is the only one she remembers. ❝ If I fought alone Ionia wouldn't stand today. ❞

❝ And it's not... ❞ Knees brought close to her chest, the dancer considers how to phrase it best. ❝ It's not worthiness, necessarily. I'm just not what they make me out to be. I'm just not the savior they paint me as. ❞

eirlys to our fav shart <3

and her scowl only further amplifies as eirlys speaks to her, hazel eyes narrowing upon the sight of the sorceress before her.

today was awful enough ; forced to gaze upon such a statue of selune -- forced to bear witness to such lies ( prayers ) to open a chest. only to be further provoked and explain why it brought her to a sour mood. the half-elf scrunches up her nose at the thought, fingers clenching at the leather of her night wear. but ... something feels wrong.

why was there such a pain, not only to her hand -- but her chest, upon listening to the recital of the prayer?

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