#vague summit reference.

Like liquid gold, the Udjat collapses through his fingers, pools on the floor. Almost like a sentient pile of ants, it climbs and forms little towers, melts and twists about to form an outline of the ancient Shuriman emperor— Azir, He Who Shines. “Explorer,” The facsimile of the Emperor greets him with as much warmth as he can, his harmonious voice carrying across the distance. He was in Shurima and rebuilding as was his wont— the image that stood before Ezreal was but a projection, a sending of its master. He did not think it proper to enter Piltover without an invitation. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” wasn't actually expecting it to be so easy, and at the sudden emergence of the emperor's projection,

A small gasp part's Ezreal's lips, and for a few seconds, he doesn't answer, and the silence permeates the room as though it were something solid rather than just an absence of noise. If he's being honest, he wasn't actually expecting it to be so easy, and the sudden emergence of the emperor's projection catches him a bit off-guard, though he quickly inhales, filling his lungs with the air needed to speak.

"...what do you do when you know you have to do something but it makes you so uneasy and so uncomfortable you find yourself unable to uncover the bravery to do it?" he asks, though it seems like he's mostly talking to himself rather than Azir. With a lazy grunt, the explorer leans up against one of the walls for support, his leather-clad shoulder digging into the corner. He looks frighteningly pitiful.