#threadedweave

“Guilty as charged! Pffttt-”

Taliyah starts laughing uncontrollably, recalling the memory with ease.

For a moment it struck Khada Jhin as odd that even wayward vagabonds could attract followers and students-- but then, he doubted that Yasuo was ever one to put his ronin status on broadcast.

“Oh!” He twisted his head at the sight of the noise, glancing at Taliyah with a soft edge on his gaze. “My apologies. I didn’t see you there.” A lie; spoken still with impeccable innocence. Jhin couldn’t allow for anything less, could he?

He smiled at her, careful to keep his hands at ease on his periwinkle and white obi. “I am Yagami Hiro,” he said. Not a lie, but more misdirection. There was as much a Yagami Hiro as there was a Khada Jhin-- one of those sounded far more appealing than the other. “An artist.” The truth-- in more ways than one.

Hmhm. 

He hadn’t so far seen this girl in person, only faint rumors and gossip about that drunkard of an exile finding some solace in not only a child, but a child hailing from the deserts of Shurima no less. For as much as Yasuo wasn’t spared from passing interest by the Golden Demon, there was still much he didn’t know.

For example--

“And you are?”

// It’s first important to note a few things:

It’s been stated before that despite the concentration of mages as champions, mages are still relatively rare. If you’re at a mage convention of course it’s going to seem like there’s a ton of them. But put the mages we have on the roster out into the world around potentially billions of other people? And suddenly that vast amount of mages is lost in the crowd.

It’s also been stated that some Demacians are so far up in their own culture and exclusions that they don’t even believe magic exists. Which I find hard to believe, since Galio and petricite is a thing. Why have protections against something that isn’t real? Seems silly to me. And knights obviously would be aware of it. But let’s just assume in some secluded hamlets people are living this idyllic lives and have no concept of magic.

The last thing to note is Sona had no idea she was a “mage” until she was finally adopted by Lestara. Before then there may have been signs, but it wouldn’t have been anything significant enough to identify. Unlike, say, Taliyah who can manipulate the surrounding stone, Sona’s brand of magic is all through her instrument. So without it she doesn’t do much. She’s “normal”. Her entire career as a “mage” proper began under Lestara and in Demacia, even if prior to that she was aware of magic and enchantments in Kashuld. Enchanted items are Kashuld’s specialty.

So THAT ALL SAID... Sona has a somewhat confused opinion about magic. She knows herself (to an extent) and she knows she had no ill will in her efforts. She may be scared of the general nature of her abilities at times, but the way it makes her feel, the good she can do - that urges her onward toward mastering herself and the Etwahl. Magic is dangerous. It’s less dangerous in Demacia because of all the petricite, but still dangerous.

Really I think her attitude wouldn’t be all that different than meeting someone who’s armed. They could choose to attack her or they could not. Some mages may not be able to fully control their abilities, and she can understand that - but that’s no reason to shun people. So long as they aren’t literally exploding around her then it’s fine.

But she’s also quick to warn them if they happen to come to Demacia and she’s aware. Like Vastaya for example, since they’re very magical beings and need magic (to an extent) to survive. Demacia would be a dangerous place for them.

As for how she feels about the general attitude? She doesn’t like it, obviously. But what can she do about it? She was adopted and brought here out of a life that promised nothing. How can one woman fight an entire cultural belief that was founded on legitimate fears? The first Demacians were trying to escape the Rune Wars. Their lands are surrounded by witches, demons, dragons, shamanistic Freljordians, Noxian sorcerers, etc, etc, etc. They have every right to fear magic. Sona isn’t likely to change that attitude very much.

She might change it a little, given the nature of what she does. But who can even say? I’m not entirely sure what Riot even has planned for her at this point, since the Demacian lore drop built up this whole anti-magic culture and conveniently forgot Sona in the mix...

“Again.”

Her fingers fell to the parchment, stained with ink as the pen in her hands was returned to its well, averting her gaze from the Ionian who watched her with storm grey eyes.

“My people speak through cloth and words, not letters and tomes.” She replied, idly pressing her thumb and forefinger together, feeling the sticky substance cloy between her touch.

The samurai watched her, then sighed, gentle and without roughness. The paper before her was crumpled at its edges now, shaky lines and jagged curves with faded strokes, incomplete and unfulfilled.

A silence overtook the afternoon air, the gentle autumn breeze playing with dark and amber locks alike, the living canvas of greens and browns beneath them was awash with ochre and burning yellow hues, the sun falling upon the land, the final glimmers of the fading light visible from their encampment upon the rocky steppes of the mountains.

“You are a weaver, no?”

The young Shuriman’s eyes rose to her masters question, nodding gently.

“Think of writing as spinning words then.” His calloused fingers moved to take the brush, tapping its horsehair tip against the dripping well.

Earthy eyes watched him move like a summer breeze, delicately pressing the brush against parchment, flowing and dancing on the sheet before her. A single stroke, then another, always raising his brush after a sole movement, sweeping curves and straights, as if the brush was merely an extension of his body.

“Like a river, it flows and crashes. Akin to stone, it may be jagged or smooth, like the wind, it can be harsh or gentle.” Removing his brush from the paper a final time, he returned it to its place once more, placing his hands in his lap once again.

Before her was a single Ionian character, almost like a pattern upon silk, inky lines danced and faded upon the parchment, sharp edges and smooth curves to form what could be considered a form of art. For the months she had spent under her tutelage, she had come to know words of common and Ionian, taught by him for the dual purpose of understanding as well as discipline and steadiness.

“A craft cannot be mastered in a single action. It takes a thousand strokes to complete. Have patience, and you shall see.”

Taliyah contemplated for a moment before looking at his master once more, who noticed the glimmer in her eyes. “Do you need anything more, Sparrow?”

“May you put out your hand?” She asked, feeling a flutter of nervousness in her stomach.

For a moment, the Ionian merely stared at her, an eyebrow raised. Yet surely, the corner of his mouth barely upturned, extending his bare wrist to her.

“Close your eyes, master.” She politely asked, her fingers reaching for the brush beside her.

He followed her words, feeling a cold touch on his wrist, his fingers twitched ever so gently at the experience, yet remained calm as the feeling spread across his entire wrist. Her movements had been frequent, shaky at times, yet still carried form, flicks and tails on smooth edges, causing the wanderer to become unable of hiding the thin smile on pursed lips.

“You can open your eyes now, master.”

Storm grey opened to the world once more, his vision cast down to his arm, still held by his student. Characters had been written on his wrist, droplets of black ink rolling down his arm as he read the kanji carefully.

‘Thank you’

“I learnt it from a fisherman that found me after Noxus abandoned me to the waves,” she said, watching him carefully as he mouthed the words in his own tongue. “I hope you do not mind, master.”

For the fire time in three years, the once-dead smile he had known so well returned to his lips.

“Not at all.”

The dawn felt cold.

Staring out at the winding river of cool blue, his eyes fell to his student, now alone at the passing, nothing but the rustling grass to denote his presence there.

He sat perched upon an strong oak, seeing her mouth a single phrase, then turn to follow the path he had shown her, a sigh coming from his lips.

Yasuo’s fingers were to his wrist now, gently touching the words she had written, still there, comfort in the crisp morning air.

Muttering to the wind, he too was gone, shuddering branches and falling leaves as he continued on his way.

And yet, it seemed as if his words carried on the wind itself, flowing through the new day.

‘Thank you, sparrow.’

Apologies for the long post, but I am one who very much enjoys the master-student relationship between Yasuo and Taliyah, so I couldn’t resist writing a little story on them.

This is actually something that I did with my own sensei (minus writing on his arm :P), so it was a pleasure to write in this sense as well.

For @drills-of-defiance!

Independent Art/RP/Ask blog of Taliyah from League of Legends. Plenty of RP experience, very much new to this muse. Ask box is now open!

“I-I-I... Erm.. I was just trying it out. I’ve never had this... Ice cream before! It’s like snow but.. Less bland?”

Taliyah pulls the icecream away from her mouth, clearly disappointed.

“But I’m..Guilty.”