#imperilness

    ‘   you’re one to talk.   ‘  venomous words quip quick, a sourness rivaling her sister’s. not one always for dramatics, though, it was hard talking down to katarina, of all people.    (   this whole family was proud   )

the du couteaus rarely took any color. made for the shade, they steeped in the shadows. they were without childhood memories of the searing sun and blistered skin, pale as the moon that seemed to stagnantly hang above the clouds. 

leave. she used to love leaving. a firecracker with a rebellious streak. she used to sneak out all the time   —-   met without consequence, only slight    (   non - verbal   )  disapproval from their mother. but now, like a knight to a castle, a dog to a leash, katarina was tethered to this house. it was horrifically empty.   (  perhaps she’d haunted it   )    and, desperately lonely.  

bare fingernails dig into her shoulder, making a point to turn away from them, cloaking her increasingly bitter expression. things they wouldn’t understand. it was a stirring mass of hate, betrayal, jealousy. non-nonsensical half-truths lay unspoken on her tongue, teeth catching on more poison. 

Send me an emotion and I’ll describe how my Muse expresses it non-verbally.

//Smiles. Big, huge, shit-eating smiles. I’m talking ear to ear here. Cheshire cat smiles.

a darker shade of magic sentences / accepting

                The bitter taste of iron filled Garen’s mouth while blood dripped down his chin and over his brow, his lips curled back in an almost snarl while his fist was curled tightly around his dagger. He’d already lunged forward and tried to claw the Noxian back to him with a fist curled into his cloak, ready to fight them tooth and nail for his own life, but no good assassin is that easy to grapple. Regardless, the Might still stood with his knees bent, crouched, blood staining his skin and chest heaving while he ignored the stinging pain of wounds left on his body. 

                Another blade comes as fast as a viper’s strike towards him that Garen only registers as a flash of silver, but Garen was the Sword-Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard; his reflexes were just as adapt. He sharply rose his forearm, the edge of the blade slicing across his arm to set a feeling of fire-like pain throughout him. Garen grits his teeth all the same, though, disregarding the brief feeling of his arm being cut open to throw his weight forward like a charging bull.

                 Garen knocks his fist into Talon’s stomach and continues barreling forward, using his strength and size as a weapon in and of itself. Talon was still no average footsoldier though and fought against being swept into the undercurrent of Garen’s force. They don’t allow Garen to pin them to the wall or bury his dagger into their body, but even just a second of exposure is enough time for Talon to leap forward with a blade thrust into the Demacian’s side. 

                A sharp shout of pain leaves Garen in response, then comes the low growl of Talon’s voice behind him, but all that does is stir the burning coals of Garen’s fury. Just as quickly as the knife was shoved into his side, Garen’s hand wraps around the assassin’s wrist with a grip like steel and yanks them forward while also swiftly turning to face them with grit teeth and a fire burning in his eyes. 

2: Favorite rainy day activities?