#tempestisms

ˊ i've got a bad feeling about this place. ˊ 

“You aren’t the first person to say that, and I doubt you’ll be the last.” Quinn shrugged, looking up at the giant trunk of the petricite tree. “Eerie feeling, right? Like there’s something always around you that you just can’t see? Couple that with the constant headache that’s minor enough to not be a serious issue but major enough to be a constant annoyance and it’s no wonder people are so turned away from the forests around here. Especially those of even the slightest inclination of magical ability.”

@tempestisms​ asked: ˊ no place to stop, no place to go. ˊ

joy division’s “ unknown pleasures ” ( 1979 ) sentence starters / ( still accepting!! )

“Who did this?”

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      - for your muse to choke mine.

                             𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖     -     𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃     𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒     𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇     in     through     the     void,     concrete     parting     into     nothingness     as     if     to     make     way     for     Kayn’s     very     being.     His     touch     is     silken     as     it     finds     the     neck     of     the     spirit,     seizing     her     &     pushing     her     body     back     against     the     nearby     wall     :     he     is     after     nothing     &     EVERYTHING     in     that     moment.     A     being     of     unimaginable     power,     &     yet     still     he     is     willing     to     bend     to     human     whims     &     desires     ...     dark     lips     &     a     pale     face     dip     close     to     Janna’s,     looming     in     the     umbra     that     the     assassin     exudes.     With     a     velveteen     tongue,     Kayn’s     words     meet     her     ears     :                                        ❛    𝑫𝒐𝒆𝒔     𝒕𝒉𝒆     𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅     𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆     𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌     ?     ❜

“Noxus welcomes you. For now...” 

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Janna’s words wash over her like a spray of seawater in a strong gale.

“I...”

Is she right? Does she eschew her own safety to ensure the safety of others? Does she forego her own needs in order to pander to ideals that she values more than her own worth?

It seems to sting more, to cut deeper, when it comes from a discerning eye as nonjudgmental as Janna. It’s as if the long thread of her patience has been spun, and Irelia had pulled and pulled without realizing how much had gone to waste.

“I apologize. I don’t mean to come off as so reckless.” She lets her blades fall, gathering them around as they hover just over the ground. They seem to slouch, sheepish like their master, minimizing their own image as if they were a rebuked child.

Cursed day except it’s about wrath