#propugnatori

Commission for @queenyharnam and @propugnatori of Viktor and Jayce!

Bored was the last thing Riven felt. 

Piltover was nothing like Noxus. Here, the glass-lined windows stack one atop another to coalesce into grand buildings, many stretching high towards the clouds, always reaching, closer, closer. Roads were rarely in disarray; it was rare of her to have taken a step into the downtown and tripped over a pothole, or have her sandal snag on uneven paths. Even the people - once dismissed in her mind as prudish & stuck up - take on a new flavor the more she gets to know them. Desire for knowledge burns in their eyes. An ache to do good, to do better, has seized their bones.

Still. This is all second fiddle to the reason she came back to haunt the land, that reason currently resting in her lap with her hand running through his hair, tracing the whiskers on his face, the curl of his lips. All this, and she cannot help but smile back, amber irises alight with warmth. 

Jayce opens her heart in a language she hasn’t quite learned to speak yet.

“ Not at all. “ She reassures, hand cupping his cheek. She didn’t want to lie, so she wouldn’t, but she also wasn’t ready to bare her truth to him, her ‘i think i love you,’ her ‘i want to stay, be with me.’ “ I have been caught up trying to visit some old acquaintances in Ionia…not all of them are a quick jog from the coast, I fear, so it takes me more time than I might like to get to them. “

Riven cants her head, then leans down to press a quick peck on his lips.

“ Why? Is this your way of saying you miss me, Mister Defender? “

“Think of it as proof of how good you are if nobody else can stop him,” Talon advised sardonically, gaze roving over the champion of Piltover curiously. While everyone in Noxus knew that Jayce was here on a diplomatic visit, there were no contracts out on him as far as Talon knew – and with how much it would cost to kill a fighter of Jayce’s reputation, Talon would have most definitely heard if anyone in Noxus was looking to take him down.

Meeting him in the bar wasn’t pure chance, however. The gleaming hammer, when seen from the rooftops, had an odd sparkle to it akin to the hextech crystals that Piltover so favored. It was close enough to the blood crystals that rested in the eyes of his dragonblade (made from Vladimir’s blood, made to monitor if Talon was alive or not) that it had piqued Talon’s curiosity and so the assassin had stealthily trailed him from on high.

When Jayce had entered a bar, Talon’s original plan had been to wait outside for him to emerge but then it started raining. While Talon was no stranger to discomfort, he also wasn’t being paid for this so there was no reason to suffer unnecessarily. He’d given up on staking out the place and entered the bar instead, dropping down onto the stool next to Jayce and using that to strike up a conversation.

                The ball hovered next to her, closer than usual as she holds the open circuitry of her arm. The talons of her fingers lay motionless and open palmed over her knees while she held a delicate, thin tool in her working hand amongst the wires and gears. Several of the gears had been crushed under the durable metal of her forearm several hours ago, though the exterior had only scratches to show for the immense pressure it had been under. It had been at least some time since she had been forced to fight in such a way, but this served as a reminder that she not forget it. Metal was durable. She was strong. 

                She hadn’t noticed or heard Jayce approach her, only looking up to him when the ball whirrs softly next to her and nudges her legs. Orianna finally looks up at him when he speaks, her lips a small, pert frown and her eyes were a stark contrast of searing light in the dark. Her attention return to the open arm, gold and brass cogs arranged in an almost elegant, neat display save for the broken piece that lay on the cobblestone beside her. It was a careful, arduous task removing them, one that demanded precision and patience. 

THE HOLY (DEMON) BEING manifested in the form of a golden light— as if he had simply melted into reality. IT was something ancient and unknown; a presence that forced all others to turn away— as does the blinding light of the sun. And that accursed light wavered, twitching in the presence of the inventor— until it garbed itself in flesh and bone. Gold and ivory and red. 

“ What I want? ”   

The Angel of God could see the fear in his eyes; he could always see past Jayce’s posturing. He could then, and he can now. Michael’s predatory gaze remains fixated upon Jayce, even if he turned his back— even when he was not there. He saw, and he knew. Through means that men were not able to comprehend, this abomination had never left Jayce.

And so, he descends and sets foot upon the ground, and begins to move towards Jayce.  What had once appeared to be ivory became steel. The angel’s armor was heavy—almost impossibly so. The ground itself protests around him, cracking with every careful, deliberate step he takes. 

He wields power well, but silence was just as cutting as any blade. It is then and only then, when he stands before the Piltovian that he finally speaks.

  “ We know nothing of want, not in the way YOU LOT do.”

But, he had found himself in a most merciful mood. Or, perhaps he had simply become bored of breaking this particular toy already. There was no fun in SCRAPING OUT HIS GUTS. Though for a brief moment, the thought was tempting.

 “ Though, I suppose I do owe you something, hm? A reason behind your most cruel treatment.”

The angel cants his head to the side, his burning gaze bore into Jayce’s eyes. Searching for that primal surge of fear, something he was certain he would find. His playful smile turns something cruel. 

              don’t worry, there’s enough of good ol’ Fate to go around / open ( mutuals only )

            ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ | Sexual Attraction             ✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Romantic Attraction             ✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Crushing             ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Squishing             ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ | Sensual Attraction             ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction

            Low ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ High

⋆ — He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Normally Ezreal would do just about anything to get out of a hextech lab. Jayce’s lab has always been an exception, but even it has its limits. Still, this project is something personal to Ezreal, and he’s always been willing to sacrifice a few principles for the sake of freedom. That’s why when Jayce starts talking with that exhausted (really, exhausted—Ezreal should get him some brightening cream for that face) tone, Ezreal lifts his eyes from where they’d rested, unfocused, on his own knuckles. 

    There’s fear in them. Real fear that this is permanent. He’s learned to live with the gauntlet now, but that doesn’t mean he wants to always have to make do. His eyebrows pull together and Ezreal blinks a few times—either out of bewilderment or to keep from tearing up, because it’s been a long few days for him too—before shaking his head slightly. “If I wanted safe, I’d be in a university lecture hall right now.” He tries to make it a joke, but his voice comes out low and broken. “I’d rather die than stagnate.” Still, he’s afraid, vividly aware of the threat of losing an arm or worse.