#librarivs

“Thanks, Akali. Very cool.”

His back arches backwards; hands resting on his hips as it cracked audibly in three places, the teal haired popstar leaning back comfortably, but not before grabbing his iced coffee from the table and fiddling with the straw before sipping from it. This whole thing with Kayn was confusing—he always seemed to be, well…Ezreal had a hard time figuring it out. Kayn was always so spontaneous—but like a bomb that could explode over and over again. Sometimes, it felt like Kayn wanted him around all the time and other times it felt like…he didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I just…I dunno. I don’t what we are ‘cause it feels like I’m getting mixed messages all the time!” Were they dating? Just fucking around? The more he thought about it, the more and more confusing it had gotten. Air was blown into the straw as he thought, watching and listening to bubbles forming before taking another sip.

“You think this was a bad idea?” He asked; voice lowering to a whisper as brows knitted together in the middle and he stared at the tabletop before looking back up to her. “What do I even say to him? Man—This whole dating thing sucks sometimes…”

❛  Do  you  make  it  a  habit  to  keep  people  waiting?  ❜  Aventurine  asked  the  moment  Topaz  came  into  view.  He  didn't  have  an  appointment  with  her  nor  had  he  told  her  he  would  be  waiting  for  her.  He  was  just  sat  in  an  armchair  as  if  he  belonged  there.  ❛  How  does  it  feel  being  back  to  P45?  ❜

" What part of it exactly? The part where some big folks are half-naked almost at the berge of tears or the part where I beat their asses at strip poker and won a loaf of money without taking off a sock? " Her words slurred a little thanks to the strong liquor she was taking, but nonetheless she didn't bat an eye when the next throw of cards were shown and - to no one's surprise - she won another round. " Come on, Senna. You never played cards before? I'm pretty sure you've seen at least ONE man naked, hu? "

@librarivs : "wait, have you been drinking?" (2/2) Drunk Starter

THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER. He's all alone, lounging on a tree branch with nothing but a jug of rice wine he... found in the near by town. Poor Rakan, all alone for what seems like months (it's been two days), all because Xayah wanted to go ahead and do some stealthy information gathering. What was the word she used? Reconnaissance? Oh, that's a fun word.

It's not unusual for her to scout alone. She's plenty capable, a master at both fighting and sneaking, wow she's so talented... Rakan on the other hand tends to forget the quiet and stealthy parts of the plan. Last time he went with he broke their cover almost immediately. In his defense, it's no fun sneaking around, what's the point if he doesn't get to show off? He's an artist, a performer, a dancer who should be seen by all! It's not fair...

He's busy pouting when the bushes near him start to rustle, drawing his attention. His ears perk up curiously and... oh this is the BEST day ever! Here comes Xayah, like the sun rising after a long and cold night.

This was the prime Burnice form that could not be trusted.

Flowing and free, taking these badlands and drawing into her personal dance floor. It was basically a ritual as the Sons of Calydon basked amidst the open flames of a job well done. Nonetheless, this was also the looming danger of such a situation as well. Burnice was in a good mood. He likes that she's in such a mood, but naturally, this very mood had a monkey's paw effect with each and every loving step of heel to dirt.

Unlike the others, there's a method to this mischief, and right now the way her golden hair whips like a halo taking flight was a complicated sign. One that drove his heart to a nervous beat with every slick way she gradually worked back, the whirl of her hips and the signature, catchy bounce she made in the name of this celebration. The initial glances were sharp, making him partly ponder if she's aware of just how often she catches his eye. (The reasons truly vary.)

Once it looks as if the certified Burnice route found itself homed in on the couch. For a fleeting moment, he professionally expels his sigh through his nostrils, ensuring his persona is upkept while he leans against the frigid pole behind him. This. The crown moment of the singular, vulnerable second it takes before the glimmering starlight fishes out her true tiger.

All it'd take is a ticklish brush, another to draw the Champion's attention as the glory of Burnice White finds itself situated by his side. This wasn't like their days riding wild on the Ethereals. Now, once she cozies on up, for an instant, that grim realization dawns as cool composure melts to pure disbelief the instant those damn powerful hips made their curtain call!

Anyone else would call that a modest press, he'd call it a cannon strike with that hip force.

As within seconds, there he was finding himself utterly thrown into disarray. It's in the process of watching her shameless smile that he stumbles back, some foolish, emboldened hope to actually reach for her. To offer a quick compromise by letting her catch him, only for that 'fun' answer to be solidified in how he could see that cheeky wink in the process. His gloved hand would only feel the taunting brush of the cold, nightly air.

"Bur-- nice--!" He choked in silence, refusing to let the others know what happened to his posture.

Before he proceeded to go and fall on his goddamn way in one of the most clumsiest ways possible. Bottles, bananas, whatever the fuck else flying upward as he practically catches the laughter in her eyes.

---

OH HE IS GOING TO GET HER!!

various starters ! / accepting.

❝ hm, speaking from experience ? ❞mydei has no intention of prying, and he fully acknowledges that his question may go unanswered should castorice decide to keep her thoughts to herself. he would not fault her for it. still, he likes to think their relationship is functional, perhaps even leaning toward camaraderie. they are polite, often friendly, and he believes — perhaps optimistically — that he knows her better than just any acquaintance, privy to some pieces of her life and mind that she would not readily share with just anyone. of course, whether this closeness is genuine or merely a calculated effort to secure his standing within okhema remains uncertain. mydei isn’t blind to the possibility that his own motivations might cloud his perceptions. there are times, however fleeting, when he allows himself to wonder if this place, these people, and this chapter of his life are meant to be permanent. or is this merely another brief stop along a much longer, winding journey?  

as the former crown prince’s rumor goes, mydei possesses power that few can rival, a force so vast and unique that it defies comparison except to the handful of individuals he sometimes deigns to spar with. yet, for all his abilities, he cannot peer into the threads of his own destiny. and perhaps, he muses, that is for the best. even if he could glimpse what lies ahead, would he truly want to? the idea of knowing, of having the mystery unraveled before him, feels as much a burden as it does a relief. for now, he resigns himself to the uncertainty, navigating the present as best he can while the future remains an unanswered question. 

mydei stands with his arms folded firmly across his chest, his posture steady and composed, the same nearly inscrutable expression etched across his face. it isn’t that he is incapable of feeling, far from it. emotion thrums beneath the surface, present in nearly every moment. yet he is a man who rarely lets those feelings rise to the forefront. instead, they manifest in subtle ways, through the smallest shifts in his demeanor: the way his hands move when he speaks or the way they stay close to his body, a quiet defense against discomfort. when he speaks to castorice, however, mydei allows himself to let go of some of those guarded habits. even when the subject at hand is death, a topic that could easily drive him into silence, he does not shy away. death, in this context, feels both transient and blasphemous, a paradox that weighs heavily on him. he wonders silently, does this make him a sinner, a transgressor against natural order? or is he, perhaps, something closer to blessed?  

his thoughts swirl as his eyes close briefly, as if searching for clarity in the darkness behind his eyelids. when they open again, the golden irises catch the faint light of the horizon, their gaze distant but focused. mydei remains rooted in his space, as though it were carved out for him alone — a place three measured steps away from castorice, deliberate and precise. in his stillness, he reflects, his emotions shielded yet undeniably present, carried silently within him like an unspoken truth. 

Verglas glints across the indomitable ridges of his gauntlet, the silver transforming into a minatory executioner under the niveous haze of this hectic dawn pursuit. It comes to a crescendo as his fist titurates the stonewall behind him into dust, particles of victimized debris orbit the two in a somnolent, glacial descent. Sampo’s eyes widen, bereft of his freedom he is permitted a fortuitous chance to stare long and hard into the dauntless cerulean of the captain’s. This was no longer a situation that favoured him, the felicitous reaction would be to placate with contrition but ━ he was dubious that it would serve as more than provocation, exacerbating the overburdened captain landau until clemency may as well have been dismissed entirely. ❝ ━ it took you a while but it seems you finally caught the elusive criminal sampo koski. ❞ he intoned, indubitably impressed with this act of unprecedented physical prowess. orrrrr something along those lines. punitive or not it seemed inequitable to assault the wall in his stead, hundreds of infinitesimal fissures burgeoning from the crafter left by his clenched fist avowed that it wouldn’t merely be walking away with a concussion if you were on the receiving end of his ire. Is it not that a blessing that the captain is governed by laws imposed for the good of the civilians and not the not so good of the civilians. He swallowed thickly, the tension that filled the diminishing distance between them left a palpable chill in the air, more foreboding than usual. ❝ I would offer congratulations but you see.❞ he cants his head, resting his meticulously groomed hair against gepard’s arm, violating his personal-space which seemed only reasonable considering how grievously his own was being mistreated. ❝  Sampo was merely ━ transporting some supplies to the underworld.❞  he chooses his words deliberately, knowing nothing escaped the hostility corralled in the captain’s narrowed eyes. ❝ so there’s no reason to resort to ━ ❞  his gaze flits to the side, fretfully admiring the way white, billowing haze seems to undulate off his fist, detritus clinging to the formidable silver of his gauntlet.  ❝ violence, now is there captain ? ❞

Illness / Sickness Starters.

@librarivs asked: ' i’ll carry you if I have to. ' / miyabi → harumasa

❛ No, no, no. That won't... be necessary, Chief. ❜ It's a kind offer, a lionhearted display of heroism and solidarity, but one he would prefer to avoid if at all possible. He is appreciative, of course, as many in her position would have likely thought twice about falling back to help their struggling colleague when their goal was within reach, but what does that say about him, when he has absurdly allowed his flare-ups to not only slow himself down, but Miyabi as well? Never mind being useful, isn't he actively jeopardizing their mission at this rate? Perhaps not quite yet, but he most certainly will be if he becomes a literal luggage on her back. That, if nothing else, is something he should try to avoid harder than the plague.

Coughing, Harumasa raises his gaze from the ground, redirecting it onto the chief, and attempts to mirror the reassuring smile he oft employs in similar circumstances in which his precarious health threatens to disrupt their operation. ❛ Just give me one more minute to catch my breath... and I'll spring right... back... to my usual... urk--- ❜ Oh, come on! Why the sudden augmentation of his symptoms, at the worst time possible?! Why this sudden nausea and dizziness? Has he been pushing beyond his limit far too harshly for his ailing body to keep up? Or is this provoked by something else, worse, like a general degradation of his condition, or a potential diminishing of his medicine's effectiveness? He certainly prefers the idea of the former over the latter, but with a hand over his mouth, a sensation akin to witnessing the world participate in a spinning competition, and the concerned look in his friend's eyes... forget finding the cause, how can he at least postpone this mess until they're done with their assignment?