#rendlight

花見 🌸 w. @songs-of-light-xiv & @rendlight

            the hounds of noxus were baying at her heels. 

            they’d already given chase through a kilometre of dense forest, drunk off the scent of fresh blood. moments before, they had been driving native ionians from their quiet homes and taking steel to the ones that did not cooperate, but the enemy forces were soon captivated by the sight of such a rare ionian prize: a timid gleam of white fur emerging from the underbrush, shadowed in sharp relief against the flames of the home they had just razed to the ground. 

            and they were all the more enraged when she struck down a dozen of their men.

            she led them astray as best she could, sprinting through the foliage like a deadly guiding star, but the noxians are quick and relentless in their pursuit. two arrows slung in her direction scream at ahri’s ear, close enough for her heart to claw into her throat, but the next slices horizontal against her calf and brings her sprint to a stumble; another gouges across her forearm and pins her sleeve to the bark of an old oak. it is agony to rip it free and continue on.

            as she breaks into an expansive grove as fast as her limp will take her, the warband not far behind, she faces what seems- at first- to be her death. he blends into the darkness so well she nearly runs straight into him, a lamb sprinting to its slaughter: ahri brings herself to a jarring stop, wounds screaming in protest. her chin tips back, scratched and smudged with filth, pupils blown wide with shock. she is met with the impassive gleam of steel, a cold ember of red burning beneath. and she, like any wounded, cornered animal, does the only thing she knows how. she strikes.

            blue flame ignites at her fingertips. ahri heaves back her uninjured arm, teeth grit into a scowl, her chest heaving with exhaustion; despite her injured state, her unnatural speed persists, and she darts forward, tails a violent lash of white behind her. she will kill him and be done with it. his essence will go to the maggots for all she cares.

            his hand closes around her wrist, and all comes to a cold standstill.

            ahri’s composure breaks. she heaves a pained gasp and watches the magic at her fingertips sputter and choke out like a dying flame, swallowed by something more sinister. shadows coalesce over her flesh where he touches her, his grip firm enough that she fears her bones will give way; her arm begins to feel like it no longer belongs to her, an empty void of ache and cold settling in and draining her vitality. she snarls a guttural, wounded sound, fangs bared, but he seems to know it is nothing but a defiant display.

            ‘  watch your tone,  ’  he says. a trickle of cold runs down ahri’s spine.  ‘  i’m doing you a favor.  ’ 

            the man releases her, and all at once her knees buckle, as if he had sapped away the last of her body’s will to stand. he steps past her just as the noxian hounds burst through the treeline. they seem affronted by this new aggressor, but seeing that the grove is otherwise empty, are unswayed in their confidence. they raise their weapons with renewed bloodlust.

            ahri can do nothing but sit and watch the slaughter as it unfolds.

            the man in front of her melts into shadow, a darkness so hungry it swallows the moonlight. eight of them are dead before the warband realizes they are the lambs: they erupt with wounds so grotesque they are soon nothing more than flesh and blood. a spray of it touches ahri’s cheek, smears the front of her robes with gore. a ripple of primal fear travels through what still remains of their ranks. the once peaceful grove becomes soaked in noxian blood; their cries of retreat are silenced as soon as they come. eventually, quiet reclaims the forest.

            the grass she kneels in has begun to pool crimson. ahri stands, trembling with exertion, just as the man who had saved her life melts back into view. he says nothing, regarding the fallen noxians through a mask that conveys just as little. only once she steps forward, falling under a shaft of moonlight, does he seem to remember her presence. she can smell it now, no longer masked by her own desperate will to live: that same cloying darkness. it is an assault on her senses, and her tails pick up an anxious sway.

  noxus is just trying to survive and demacia paints...

ah I remember when demacia tried conquering ionia just to survive …

@rendlight // there's no need to worry, i'm here to help you. / at okhi !!

here to help, she says, and he trusts it. would that is were anyone else, okhi'sae might've reacted differently, but naoh has given him no reason to doubt her. Pain radiates from his arm, reminding him of his situation. he's stuck; arm pinned by something heavy. his chest bleeds where he'd been glanced by the beasts claws - thank the twelve it was just that - and he knows already that this one's going to be rough to heal.

" i'm alright. " he says, pathetically, in attempt to ease any concern she might harbour. it's not convincing. " the bastard got me and buggered off with his friends. i don't think they're coming back but... keep your guard up until we're out of here. "