Send < + a word and my muse will tell you a memory related to it.
“Murder, hm?” He pondered for a moment, eyeing the other carefully, “It is bold of you, to ask a stranger of his memories in murder. Perhaps you are informed by all the blades around me?” The Ionian shrugged his shoulders softly, jingling the rings about his great dao, “Murder can mean many things. I could speak on the war, and lives taken during it... but I do not consider my own actions, or the actions of Noxus, to be murders against each other. At least, not in open combat. We were all doing what we had to.”
“As it is most places,” Yi went on, flourishing a hand to accent his point, “murder was one of the worst crimes someone could do to another. Even in my own village, at peace as it mostly was, it was not without violent crime. There had been a fleeting moment when I had been accused of a murder, not without reason, though young and dumb as I was it was not of consideration for long. Slaying during festival days, the time of the year when many had open blades on their person for performances. Very planned... but if not me, then who? They moved onto accusations of all the play Masters.”
And he remembered, though was not of a mind to speak it to the air, of the precautions taken to imprison a Wuju Master. Blinds and binds, and total restriction of movement. No courtesies spared to feed or keep the man well. For if they could not prove his guilt, then the spirits might prove it for them. If he could not survive his deprivations in body, the spirits withdrawing their boons in disgust, then he had done something to warrant abandonment. He remembered looking on the bound soul, deep in his meditations, and he spoke the same word then as he’d done many years before,
“... Terrifying. I hope — you as well as me — never to be caught in such business if it can be helped. These are well wishes I can give to you.”
