#inspired flame

Send 🌺 to hear what my muse likes about yours

Memory Meme

♣ - a fading memory

It was one of those precious moments one shouldn’t forget, that one didn’t want to forget. However, the passage of time is relentless and ruthless and human memory has no regard to the heart with its frail nature.

It was a cold winter morning, long before the sun rose over the horizon. That fateful day, those last hours, those precious last moments were fading away; escaping through his fingers like the sands of the desert that saw the couple draw their last breaths.

“Ezreal…. Ezreal. Wake up we …………. …… …… …. .uncle at …….. …. gates. Your dad…… ……” He remembers being gently shook awake by his mother, and the comfort he felt at her voice, but the words were long lost in time, his mind filling in the logical blanks and perhaps even creating new ones. This was the last day he saw them alive, but nine year old Ezreal did not know that. He was excited to see that magical stone of Ne’zuk do the wonders his parents had talked him about, and more than ready to actually have them here for dinner even when they were an ocean away just because of that relic. What could go wrong?He remembers dressing up in a hurry, but the colors and his actual clothes are a blurr, as is the journey from their home to Piltover’s southern gates. He remembers the quiet conversation, the way they’d squeeze his hands in theirs whenever the child asked them when they’d come back, if they were going to be okay, and if please, please could I go with you? He remembers the sweet “No”s and the looks of disapproval, (they had, after all, talked about this the day before. And the day before that one, and the day even before that one, etc). But now that the explorer looks back upon the fragmented memory and his pleas, he kind of wishes they’d have said yes. Now, don’t get him wrong, he loves his life and has no plans of ending it, but the weight of the cold dinners and long hours waiting for a sign or a reason to believe they were alive out there somewhere were still heavy on his heart.

At least he’d then know what happened to them, maybe if he came along they would have been more careful, maybe if—-There’s not much more he can remember, aside from the tears swelling up on his mother’s eyes and the tight and longer-than-necessary hugs shared between the three of them. That, and the phrase that kept alive most of his hopes during those lonely years, one of the only things that comes to focus when he evoques the memory, and even after eleven years, soon to be twelve, resonates loud and clear on his head:“Wait for me to come home.”

And that he did.He waited.And waited.And even if he won’t recognize it, telling himself that he has accepted the fact they are dead,He still waits.

The young boy tilted his head to one side, amber eyes seeming to spark as if a flame flickered behind them. He spoke in a very native tongue, but its general dialect was at least shared, in part, between a common Ionian tongue, “|Are you important? You look important. Sometimes... my Papa sees people like you with the fancy clothes and floaty metal. Do you know my Papa? He has a Wuju sword and he goes...|”

@inspired-flame​ whispered: 16 , 21 𝟜𝟚 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓹𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like?

—Despite her own beloved secrecy upon the truth & telling most people about how her nights of sleep are highly perfect & reassuring; reality distances a lot from this. She’s as capable as anybody else of dreaming & with a frequency that is almost overwhelming due to how vivid & detailed the events coloring them can become, that without counting how most of them are also recurrent nightmares ever enveloping memories from her past & drinking in the everlasting nostalgia surrounding restlessly.

Occasionally, she dreams about her youth among the Forests & about her sisters of the woods; sometimes there’s also the memories of her first Coven & all the people she deeply adored for centuries. Yet, the frequency of those merry dreams pales in comparison to the distress coming from the traumatic situations lived below the Revenant’s sovereignty with terrible detail. All the anguish is lived over & over again. One may think that after living for so long & being capable of commanding, leading & curating an Empire for almost a millennium, all those things would have been mastered & overpowered, subdued enough to be no more than the pressure of a needle’s pointy tip.

However, Emilia requires luring herself into a restful & dreamless slumber through minor spells, otherwise, the fact years are but blinks to an immortal’s heart & mind only plays against her when it comes to getting over traumatic events, she’s still dealing with the processes even if her façade of security & self-composed demeanor is always masking her porcelain countenance.

— ⟡ —

21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why?

—Intentionally speaking; Emilia attempts to actively seek relationships that can be beneficial as much for her as the Black Rose, assuring those she interacts with getting as close to an alliance & business endeavor as possible for the good of the Empire –and for their own good as well; even if people is usually manipulated into believing they are keeping the upper hand around her. Playing the fool & ignorant from certain events in order to gain information can be an easy (& almost boring she would even dare to say) task when most people only desire for their pride to be complimented or for their emotions to comprehend. In a world where everyone just wants to be admired & receive pleasant reactions; very few stop themselves to simply be silent & listen. Those easy noisy lambs craving attention are the people she seeks intentionally; simply to turn them into serviceable puppets.

However; there can be those relationships that she isn’t actively looking for & simply find their way towards her mind, heart, or/& soul through their own charms, shine & beauty. There’s simply people capable of captivating her senses be due to how their intelligence & cunning allows them to keep her rhythm, how some prove their ability to survive & become an actual difficult task that deserves her attention more properly, or even just people that prove to be good at conversation & might be pretty much entertaining with even the simplest of topics as music or gardening – Similar to how flowers require a lot of attention, hard work & appreciation to be cultivated, she would give most of herself to assure every moment of contact is one of fruitful value, yet it will always be up to the other to plant the seed she will be constantly watering.

100 NSFW TMI Questions:

Send ‘regress’ to meet my muse as a child.

Yone had looked up to many people. His father, his mother, Souma, his father's friend, many swordsmasters. So it wasn't a surprise when he saw Karma and immediately looked up at her. Literally and figuratively.

He recognized the poise, the energy she carried with her. Although it was more gentle than a swordsman, it was similar. Both strive for balance, just in different ways. The sword is an extension of oneself, just as Karma's spirit was.

Or so Yone immediately assumed upon seeing her.

𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒹 👦𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹!

{ ⟡ } — Bright eyes glow as pure gold below the divine & beautiful sunlight filtering through Ionian woods. The little Nymph isn't quite sure how she has gotten to this place, for she ignored the warnings in the voice of the pixies & the birds at her woods, following a little dragonfly in the fascination of the iridescent of its wings -- a halo of beauty & color as familiar as the one coated her nacre-blessed butterfly wings, now fluttering as carrying her around the tallest trees & eventually close to the beautiful Lady.

🙶 You are so Gorgeous! 🙷 Her blissful voice expresses, as the seemly looking child of no more than seven came to the Enlightened One. She had never seen a mortal so precious, & whose arcane would feel so... old? & special — even if she can't track it to a specific element of Nature's blessing but the vibrations perceived by her own magic are subtle. Strong & powerful yes, but soft & allowing her to rest at ease, inevitably feeling absolute safety around the woman despite being human & a stranger.

Her sisters would have probably been far warier, but she's a literal newborn for the Fae. In a world coated by immortality, she's literally just seven years since the first time caressed by the Spring's breeze & feeling the scent of the wildflowers.

 Put ¥ in my ask and my muse will rate your muse on: