#noxianwill

Katarina as a voice of reason never did fit, not since their first meeting or any of their encounters that followed. Something that was in their nature required them both to argue on every subject, clashing blades that never saw eye to eye, sparks flying with each strike, only halting when clothing was being ripped open. This suggestion? For once he was in agreement, what they did, what they always did once tensions got too high could never work. It was wrong, they were wrong, and yet her words barely reached his ears once his mouth was on her neck, mapping every inch of skin he could find, tasting her, marking her.

Garen makes a sound of agreement, muffled by his mouth being far too busy, trailing kisses along her collarbone, the room only illuminated by candlelight, some hovel they had bunkered down in should the weather turn distraught. A solace of privacy where the predictable would happen, not that they hadn't touched one another just sitting around a campfire, but the wall and roof were a nice change in scenery. Was it wrong that he liked that it was just them in this room? A fleeting moment of time inside a small bubble just their own.

He wanted to breathe her in, memorize every sound he could make a deadly assassin make, he reveled the feeling of her in his arms, the way she kissed him just as needily and sharply as their nonstop banter. She was a fire, she burned, and yet the comfort of her heat had him reveling just to get seared. He refused to voice these thoughts out loud, eloquence wasn't a luxury he had, and their . . . situation didn't call for it. Even when his heart beat a little faster every time she teased him or he found himself looking at her when she wasn't looking at him.

He refused to tell her about how she took up practically every thought he had whenever he wasn't on duty. It wasn't allowed, this was just physical, two adults with far too much tension releasing it in the best way they could. There was nothing else bubbling just beneath the surface, no metaphorical string tying them together and bringing them into one another's arms just because it felt right.

Pushing thoughts of his desire to confess anything dangerous regarding his hear aside, he pulls back to stare at her expression, his face flush and pupils wide with desire. " We should stop. " He repeats her earlier suggestion, voice firm, and yet not even a breath later he's moving southward, eyes never leaving her own as his trail of kisses reaches her stomach, his kisses are rough, the hint of stubble scratching along her bare skin and yet he feels his gaze soften, and terrified that she'd notice, he moves his attention back to her pants, fingers curling into the fabric, not tugging on them yet.

" May I? " The notion of stopping long gone, as he asks, voice husky. He could focus on the task at hand, focus on making her feel good, pretending that what they did was just for pleasure.

“Is it? ‘Cause from what I see, perspective doesn’t matter. They come into the arena, I give people a show, and the prosecuted submit to death via Draaaaven.”

His tone is sarcastic as he lounges in cold throne of the Noxkraya arena; one axe propped up next to the side of it and leaning against it, the other in his free hand; spinning idly in a slow rotation as his cheek rests in the palm of his hand, dark brows furrowed as the Executioner looks beyond the empty arena; blood dried in several places and the trails from his axes still looking fresh, despite the spectacle ending mere hours ago.

Lips pull into a fine line briefly before another huff leaves the beast of a man, Draven rising from his seat and stepping closer to the edge to admire the scenery of bloodshed before looking at Katarina over his shoulder; expression less then impressed by her presence or whatever advice she was trying to give him. One could suspect that Draven was in one of his moods—nothing unusual there. He was always confident in his little spectacle; thriving on the thrill land adrenaline that came from chanting of his name, but something was…off.

“Do you usually try to give unwanted advice, Kat? Didn’t take you for the type.” He sneers, shrugging broad shoulders before pointing the axe he still held in his one hand towards the pit. “What I think, regardless of perspective”, a quick glance to her. “Is that we get one of those Demacian Crownguard brats in there and see how well they do against me. Now THAT’S a show!”

A scowl graces his features. Bah. He moves back to said throne and falls into it; leaning the axe he held next to the other before crossing his arms over his chest. A rut—he was in a rut.

🎮 — favorite video game(s)?

oh god going right into it i see -- ffxiv, league, mass effect trilogy, dragon age series, loz series... um this list could go for a while but these are mostly the top!

📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)?

a league of their own probably stands as my all time favorite movie!! i also have a soft spot for animated movies like coco, the mitchells vs the machines, spiderverse

i unfortunately dont watch a lot of tv though, so any i would name would be cartoons that i used to watch when i was a kid like rugrats, danny phantom and teen titans sjhkfdkjs

🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write?

@noxianwill ✨

SOURCE • @gutterblade & @noxianwill.

I'll start with TALON because he is the odd one out.

Soreana's attitude towards Talon has been mostly neutral. I don't think she's ever been openly hostile towards him barring some passive-aggressiveness. Even that wasn't meant for him but rather Marcus; when he wasn't present, Talon would become the primary target. He was the stray Marcus adopted without her consent and as a replacement for Katarina; that's two strikes against him.

Besides that, Talon remains an outsider who, per Soreana's opinion, never really tried to assimilate into their family. He wasn't acting like a son nor an apprentice but rather something in between—other times he just was, much like furniture. Except furniture ordinarily isn't equipped to kill.

She never trusted him, never considered him as a son. He was too much of a lapdog to earn her respect and too socially inept to be converted into a pawn after Marcus' disappearance. With him gone, Talon's allegiance isn't as strong as she'd like it to be.

She also finds it contemptible that he got to enjoy freedoms her daughters have been denied. None of the duties and all of the pleasures of the highborn lifestyle make for an aimless, ungrateful adoptee, which is what he is to her.

Finally, she still allows him to sleep in their house, presumably in her vicinity, so she's not ready to let go of him. Is it some latent desire to connect spurred on by her own loneliness or a desperate ploy to recruit him for his investigative skills?

KATARINA has always been a handful.

"Still — I couldn't let the day go by without even a humble gift." The package offered is small, and its content simple: a bracelet, golden as the ixtali seems to favor; the fine work of Shuriman craftsmanship. "Happy birthday, Qiyana."

as surprising as it sounds, Qiyana did not expect anything for her birthday.

though her arrogance did seem to make her the type to demand gifts, she had never really needed to ask for anything. servants would often offer gifts for her birthday out of obligation. it became routine. she had already made peace with the fact she would not receive a gift this year due to the distance between her and ixaocan.

because gifts were connected to her titles and status. even if she was a princess and an important political ally for Noxus, these people were not tied to her and had no obligation to celebrate her birth. that was a fact ingrained in her.

so, it is shocking when Katarina comes to her with a gift in hand. for once, Qiyana is at a loss for words.

it is the first time she is given a gift.

not out of duty, but simply because someone wanted to.

she does not stare at her gift very long. her gaze is on Katarina, surprise and melancholy mixed into a single glance — until she is finally the one to advance and wrap her arms around the redhead, face buried against the other's collarbone.

SOURCE || OPEN

General Darius is a decorated veteran and respected warrior all across the Empire. In him Jericho Swain sees the ideal Noxian soldier; not solely because of his physical prowess ( which... is quite impressive, admittedly ) but more so for his spirit & devotion to the Empire.

Things haven't always been this way, however. When Cyrus first took the blood brothers under his wing, the majority of Generals held a low opinion of his decision. It was even mocked among the higher rankings. The first time Jericho briefly met Darius, he had thought him a little slow, for he was very impressive physically but obedient to a fault.

That was, up to the point when he heard word of his achievements in the Dalamor plain. Swain was deployed in Shurima at the time, at the height of his military career, and word reached him in passing. To take such initiative was an unexpected turn for the boy he had met back then. Darius would not occupy him much until his eventual return to Prime, after Darkwill summoned him for deployment in Ionia.

Then, his idea of the man once again was culled when he accepted the title of Hand, for Swain had already been prejudiced against Darkwill and saw the Hand as an overglorified lackey of his; however at the same time he recognized Darius' devotion to Noxus, which was an admirable and attractive quality in his eyes.

By the time Darius returned from the northern front post coup d'etat, the two had not seen each other in a while. Darius had last witnessed Swain getting dishonorably discharged in front of the entire Legion, and it is safe to say he would not have expected the turn of events. Swain, on the other hand, had now completely changed his mind on Darius. Where once he would question his loyalty to Darkwill and regard him as naive at the least, he now saw in him a potential protector of the Empire that would set an example for generations to come. Darius represents what Swain wants Noxus to become; in spite of his humble origins he earned his title and privileges. And he proves his devotion to the Empire every day, still.

In that, Jericho sees an expression of his personal ideal. It is true that Darius still rarely argues Swain's points and he is, in general, obedient. But in the Trifarix he, too, has the right to voice his opinion and Swain has made sure to encourage him from day one, respecting his take even if sometimes it is not as well articulated (Jericho understands they come from different backgrounds and did not receive the same education. Sometimes he interferes to "rephrase" what Darius says, but it is mostly to de escalate situations nowadays). He no longer thinks of him as a brute, having had a glimpse of his ideas and true spirit.