#mettlemight

[   HESITATE   ]   :         startled   by   a   sudden   hug   from   the   receiver   ,   the   sender   pauses   for   a   moment   ,   before   hesitantly   returning   the   embrace   . ( @mettlemight )

      taric   gingerly   cupped   handfuls   of   water   over   his   face   ,   pushing   wet   strands   away   from   his   eyes   as   he   scrubbed   .   targon   felt   so   empty   ,   now   that   he   had   company   to   remind   him   of   this   phenomenon   .    company   in   question   being   garen’s   presence   ,   in   which   he   had   only   ventured   to   the   ends   of   the   world   just   to   confirm   his   ascent   had   been   true   .   targon   was   almost   as   empty   as   the   desert   that   shared   its   border   —   like   shurima   —   civilization   lived   in   seclusion   .   zealots   &   solari   navigated   the   outcrops   with   ease   ,   &   roosted   in   the   evenings   when   bolar   had   been   hunted   .   no   sound   but   the   quiet   crackle   of   the   fireplace   &   the   whisper   of   water   running   before   him   in   a   drawn   bucket   . 

      targon   was   ,   in   short   ,   a   borderline   sterile   lump   of   rock   .   magic   flowing   snow   coated   the   peaks   of   each   summit   ,   &   rarely   did   the   sun   peak   through   .   the   last   few   days   allowed   him   to   trek   the   land   &   appreciate   the   beauty   .   lead   garen   to   an   inn   to   give   him   an   opportune   resting   place   ,   better   than   sleeping   on   a   damp   rock   floor   by   the   stalagmites   of   a   hollowed   cave   .   while   taric   ,   personally   could   climb   rocks   &   passage   its   terrain   ,   he   didn’t   want   his   armored   friend   to   become   too   sore   or   exhausted   .

      the   unceremonious   awkward   scuffling   behind   the   door   allowed   taric   to   notice   the   shadow   cut   through   the   fire   light   ,   illuminating   garen’s   form   just   beyond   it   .   he   had   been   pacing   ,   he   would   assume   .   the   exiled   soldier   grasps   a   dried   rag   &   begins   pampering   his   jaw   to   rid   of   water   residue   .

   〝   the   tavern’s   closed   for   the   night   so   we   can’t   sit   downstairs   ,   unfortunately   .   i’ve   been   sure   to   ask   for   a   tub   to   accommodate   your   needs   ,   my   friend   .   to   help   eliminate   your   fatigue   .   〞

      he   leaves   the   little   wash   -   room   ,   shouldering   the   door   open   to   see   a   de-armored   garen   crownguard   .   as   he   predicted   ,   strides   around   the   room   with   an   intently   focused   gaze   guarded   elsewhere   .   the   targonian   aspect   felt   air   fall   from   his   nostrils   ,   if   he   was   disappointed   ,   he   didn’t   show   it   .   taric   braced   his   fingers   on   the   rim   of   his   boot   ,   taking   a   moment   for   his   limbs   to   be   spurned   into   movement   ,   loosening   the   heel   to   take   off   &   remove   its   pair   .   he   adjusts   the   boots   into   a   neat   array   by   the   bedside   . 

      once   he   stood   straight   again   ,   hands   cradling   his   arms   as   they   cross   .   he   was   watching   garen   with   unguarded   interest   ,   before   a   pleased   sound   leaves   sealed   lips   ,   approaching   the   other   .   he   uncrossed   them   for   a   moment   ,   leveraging   a   hand   to   palm   garen’s   shoulder   .   〝   if   you’re   not   going   to   soak   ,   you   should   try   to   rest   .   i’d   imagine   holding   that   puzzled   look   any   longer   would   cause   quite   a   bit   of   pain   …   〞 

      he   parts   his   dark   streak   of   hair   against   his   back   before   returning   another   hand   to   rest   against   them   .   〝   getting   back   to   demacia   won’t   be   easy   &   as   expected   of   a   seasoned   commander   ,   i   won’t   doubt   in   your   abilities   .   i   appreciate   you   coming   to   seek   me   out   ,   but   i   cannot   return   .   getting   you   back   safe   ,   is   my   duty   as   the   protector   .   〞   he   takes   an   appropriate   step   closer   &   enclose   garen   in   an   embrace   . 

      〝   i’d   imagine   we   would   see   each   other   again   .   &   i’m   grateful   that   i   did   .   〞he   could   feel   the   plates   of   garen’s   back   shift   &   lose   guard   gradually   . 

@mettlemight asked: " do you want more rest ? "

"No, I do not." Came her reply, followed shortly by Shyvana getting up, staring up at Garen. They had never been friends. If anything, the dragon always liked to keep her distance from the brunette and avoid crossing paths with him almost as it was possible when considering they both shared one mutual friend that was not only very dear to both but also their king.

Maybe because of that and because of previous prejudice against magic, she was not willing to show any sort of 'weakness' . Or at least anything that could be seen as that. She wasn't openly hostile, of course not, but there was a difference on how she behaved with Garen and with others that she was friends with.

kayn's caught with his pants down !

How Kayn didn't notice a guy of Garen's size enter the washroom, he'll never know. Kayn's minding his own business, doing his own business, and that itself isn't strange. What's strange is that the guy with the spiked collar, black nailpolish, and copious piercings is singing to himself. Singing what, you might ask? He's singing You're My Museum by the immensely popular new pop singer, Ezreal. Though he's not singing it particularly loud, he's certainly singing it with his whole heart.

Maybe it's reasonable, then, that Garen feels like he's intruding on something private. A one-man concert happening in the men's room. Maybe if he'd turned and left, Kayn wouldn't have noticed, but Garen speaks, and Kayn just about jumps out of his skin. By the look on his face, one would think Garen had caught him doing something much more embarrassing in a public washroom.

Morgana knew well of Demacia's unforgiving winter storms from a millenia spent in these lands. Despite the horizon's warning of impending snow-filled clouds, Morgana thought herself smarter and set off to travel. Nature had proven her wrong. A human-disguised Morgana was now making her way slowly among the common path with her target still a few hours away. Her only company on this journey was the bitter cold wind, frustration, and regret since she should have known better.

Her aspect lineage made her more resilient against the elements, but Morgana was stubborn and refused to break her human glamour in her travel to the small town. She endured the freezing cold like a mortal, felt the chill settle into her bones and onto her pale skin. Snowflakes dusted her cheeks and eyelashes. She shivered without knowing it, focused on each heavy step. The mortality of it made her feel alive.

@mettlemight ✨

                         𝐈𝐓  𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐎𝐎.  burns,  devours  from  the  inside,  until  she  is nothing  more  but  a  sack  of  bones;  an  empty  ribcage  deprived  of  heart.  she lost  it,  too,  a  while  ago  —  the  day  she  kissed  that  criminal  before  his execution  —  the  one  that  never  happened.

and  it's  all  her  fault.

❝  there  is  not  much  i  can  say,  ❞  she  murmurs  with  her  eyes  now  glossy  and  voice  cracking.  ❝  there  is,  however,  so  much  i  can still  do.  ❞

luxanna  lifts  garen's  chest  plate,  being  fully  armored  herself.  freljord's  soldiers are  coming,  and  for  that,  they  have  to  be  ready.

It was one thing to break out of jail, and another to get into one. A Noxian informant had been recently caught, and wasn't surviving his trial. The thing that Noxus couldn't afford, however, was letting information fall into their enemy's hands. Slipping into the prison hadn't been the issue that Talon faced, or even opening the cell to find the missed evidence. It was when the Sword-Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard and his lackeys blocked the only path out of the prison, that the assassin knew this mission wasn't going to be completed easily. Pleasentries had been short, and violence a natural reaction.

Caught on the back foot, all Talon could do was deflect blows and keep the soldiers at arms length until they spotted an opening. But when the weight of the Sword-Captain's broadsword catches their arm blade, the assassin is nearly brought to their knees beneath it. Coming face to face with the Might of Demacia, they hiss at his comment, and before directing the sword's edge away from them they utter;

"You're testing my patience."

Skipping back until cell bars are at their back, blades are thrown in the direction of the approaching soldiers, before a smoke-bomb is produced as a last resort.

           garen’s words were met with a lighthearted scoff from the half - beast . a heat had wedged itself between the clutches of his chest cavity , a searing blood curdling heat that strangled his heart , bones , &. lungs . the aftermath of a spar . sett had the body to prove it , scars grazing over the mounds of muscle , notably his biceps &. pectorals . divots of his chiseled body rolled with every breath . his abdominal muscles &. obliques were fuckin’ tense . his knuckles throbbed with a potent straining sensation , like he was hitting a brick wall to a senseless . his concussive blows would just temporarily stun garen &. ultimately the stocky bulldozer would rise to his feet again .

sett liked that . he liked that a lot . but he knew damn well if he was mildly injured in the fight , so was garen . sett doesn’t play with his food , not like many of his fighters . “ for a man who knows how to work their blade , your fists ain’t half bad . ” he replies , grazing fingers over his temple , lightly coated in a sheen of sweat , &. feeling a bruise swelter in reaction . well — his jaw fuckin’ hurt . getting knocked right on your face , &. then trying to anticipate the direction of the punch to make it less lethal upon impact , wasn’t fun . end up with a few teeth discarded from your gums , a busted lip , broken jaw , or a swollen ass cheek . sett ended up with two of the latter .

a busted lip &. a mildly swollen cheek . the dulled pain would surface up his face , into a rather annoying headache . the boss drags his legs over beside garen’s seated body , his long appendage of a tongue curling over a bloodied fang . he tastes a faint saltiness &. a heavy supplement of iron . huh … guess he might’ve also busted up something from inside after all . chalking it down to experience , sett hasn’t had a meaningful dose of sparring in a long time . &. it would be a demacian riling to get a go . a vanguard to boot . a trained specimen of battle . he was reassured to know garen doesn’t get knocked down easily like some ragdoll . didn’t die easily .

sett plants himself next to them , eyes getting a better grasp of his physique &. wear . felt a little prideful on his hits , as evident by the bruises that seem to encroach on ivory flesh . slowly bleed through the petal like white . his furry ear flicks sideways , his jaw shifting softly .

“ bullshit . i didn’t hold back on you … don’t try to play tough with me , big guy . boss man always knows how to plan his punches . fought a lot of bastards to know . ” &. garen certainly was no different . outside of pensive matters like fighting for one’s country , land , &. king — sett did it for the comfort of a swollen coffer . vastly different goals &. outcomes . the environment felt sticky &. irritable . didn’t help ionia was in a season of insufferable heat . the tree that was weaved to make up his pit would act like a sponge &. hold onto it . it was a dry scent that would plague his nostrils . the scent of wood having gone without water . for days . doesn’t deter sett from making a remark , a witty comment , his rugged voice blistering off the sharp edges of his saliva coated fangs . translucent strings clinging to his canines . “ why’s such an important demacian itchin’ for a fight ? … what ? are your comrades too soft for you ? ”

“Nah, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.” - starter for @mettlemight .

Random action-themed prompts | accepting

"That depends," Vi said as she looked the other over. The armor looked hero-esque but she wasn't going to trust him or give him the chance to. Not yet at least. Looks were always deceiving to her. Plus she was still actively working on knowing when to put her walls down. Caitlyn had cracked the code but everybody else that she hadn't met in her childhood were going to stay outside of those walls for the time being. "What's with the knight get up? You gonna go save a princess from a tower?"

Something about him also gave her a Piltie vibe and just like with Caitlyn, Vi was back to making her assumptions again. He looked like a medieval Piltie. Plus he was a man. Vi wasn't quite fond of men but she'd give this one a chance to talk. It was the least she could do. Perhaps, though, what she didn't like the most was how tall this man was. Men were typically taller than her but this one was way taller than her and it put her on edge. The armor was thick too and she knew if the other had ill intentions, he could surely charge at her and do some damage without hurting himself. "Or are you gonna go slay a dragon? Or maybe both? Which is it?"