THE MASTER OF SHADOWS

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       ❝  i have spent a lifetime 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 this darkness [...] ; i have studied this darkness ... &. the 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 have 𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 me .  ❞

At last she finds him, brows that furrow upon sight and hands that coil up. " You dare to seize such vulnerability? " With a step closer, she continues with the same ferocity. " The heart is not yours to capture, to deny love to any person ... "

Of course, as the spirit and embodiment of love, Evelynn finds great offensive to such an idea. Even more so, when a certain warrior happened to be involved. " Have you no shame? Must you dare to cross a spirit? "

UNPROMPTED. // @agonizedembrace

He knows her; which of them does not? Love comes for all — love for homeland, for allies, for family, for lovers. He knows it well. Was it not the reason behind every war? Love for something, burning fiercely.

But he is the ashes left in its aftermath.

So when the Spirit of Love speaks ferociously of shame, he meets her gaze, dispassionate, and does not flinch in face of the accusations.

"There is but the one end for the fire in one's heart, regardless of the spark that kindles it," Impassive, his hands cross behind his back; unthreatened by the kanmei in front of him. "I do not cause rage and embers to remain — I merely hasten the process."

Though a smirk rests upon sultry lips, it does not meet her gaze. For once, one may argue a rarity for her to appear so serious in regards to whatever it is she’s conspiring. Ice blue eyes that pin point even him down, ready for any sudden movements. Evelynn remains silent for another moment, until she allows the smile to reach her eyes. “ I have news, and a request for you. ”

She leans then, head resting against one of her hands. “ I located where they took him, ” the demon pauses, waiting to gauge interest, before she speaks again. “ I believe you humans would call the term … your son? ”

“ Come with me. Together we shall raid their hideout. ” Behind her, lashers sway idly, almost pronoucing her excitement for a meal. “ You shall retrieve him, and I’ll take vengeance for inturrupting out ritual. ”

» — ⌜ UNPROMPTED ASKS⌟ 

— @agonizedembrace

The mask conceals a face impassive by arduous training, now capable of hiding even the most treacherous of emotions. It isn't difficult at present, when interest was in what she had to offer and the cult to gain, ever so loyal to their leader as he was. 

Zed remains as still as the shadows he embraces, waiting for Evelynn to speak her piece; and though he could well retort he isn't in the business of answering to just any request, she soon takes the space offered by his silence to reveal precisely why he should care. This is not about the cult — not in any measure that would lead her to seek him out for his position. It's about him; and about what she could do to use the situation to her benefit.

I located where they took him. He is certain she notices the shift, stance more alert, heartbeat louder the moment those words are said. Words that could refer to a myriad of different scenarios, yet Zed knows there is only one thing Evelynn could mean, to deem this of interest to him. And if she does know where Kayn is, he will forgive himself for the slip of giving away even a sliver of his interest. There are more important things at stake; he doesn't care if she's aware of that.

Acolyte had been the official term used by many to designate Kayn's relationship to him, Twisted Fate included. They had not been as close to the truth of it as Evelynn was ( nor did their esteemed leader know that, even now, Zed remained intent to see the young assassin returned to them ). He makes no correction, for there is none to be made. The boy is his son, and not being able to prevent the Snow Moon from taking him is his greatest regret.

But it is not regret that rises in his voice when Zed gives his answer to Evelynn's proposal, nor is it the cause for him to so readily reply, instead of carefully considering what their leader might wish to see done. Any blow to the Snow Moon was to their benefit, and he could deal with the consequences later, anyway. The drive to see his son returned is matched only by his thirst for retribution, both coloring the eerie echo of the demon he subjugated, reverberating in his voice when he says, ❝ We will teach them to feel again through pure agony — before we revel in their blood. ❞

[ to : usan ] why did you decline? i think you’d make a wonderful model! but perhaps thats my bias showing…

» — ⌜ TEXT MESSAGES ⌟  , always accepting

— @ofnightfell

→ [ Shen ]: And you would indulge me so easily? I often wonder what did I do to deserve you.

→ [ Shen ]: Haha you can't be serious. Me, a model? There is no way that would turn out well.

[ to : usan ] well!! evelynn, akali’s girlfriend is looking for models and i honestly figured why not…

[ to : usan ] she didnt say it would be a very saucy shoot so dont get your hopes up. but isnt that exciting?

» — ⌜ TEXT MESSAGES⌟  , always accepting

— @ofnightfell

→ [ Shen ]: I feel Evelynn is always looking for models for some reason. She tried to get me to do it once.

→ [ Shen ]: If you are comfortable with it, I see no reason not to do it. I'm glad you're looking forward to it.

→ [ Shen ]: Although, I'm sure I can get the spicier version of you modeling at home haha 😏

It is such a simple question, and yet so difficult to answer. Why is he here? To see if the rumors were true? To witness his former friend, the man he loved, become a shell of his former self? The answer is simpler, but no easier: he has hope still. Hope somehow he could have Shen back. Hope he would learn the truth and forgive the blood that stains his hands.

The use of that name almost makes him recoil. There are those who would call him Govos, the peasant name given to him by a hateful father; an attempt at spite. Most do not question calling him Zed; the name he chose for himself, the Master of Shadows people all over Ionia had learned to fear. No one calls him Usan, not anymore. No one except for Shen.

❝ There is nothing to tell, ❞ A lie, of course, the same he had repeated countless times. There is so much to say, so much he wishes he could say... but honor compels him to remain quiet — honor and the unwillingness to invite more hurt into Shen's life when clearly he has enough. ❝ I told you before: I did what I had to do to fight back, and for the Kinkou to continue. We needed those willing to act, no matter how bloody our hands may get, and we needed those who would preserve balance. Ionia needs both. ❞

» — ⌜PROMPTS & IC ASKS⌟  , always accepting

— @ofnightfell

warning: nsfw content below!!

The only illumination in the room comes from the moonlight filtered through the window, and Usan could almost regret not turning on the lights, were he not completely enraptured by Shen — too taken with his lover's presence to think of anything else. His hands lift the fabric of the other's shirt, and upon seeing his exposed skin the touch that follows is at once reverent and eager, fingertips tracing the well-defined muscles of Shen's torso, from chest to navel.

He will never not feel lucky to be the one with whom Shen shares himself; he will never not feel lucky to have this man in every way, from the simplest, most casual moments, to the most charged and intense. How can he touch Shen with anything but near worship, when touching him at all feels like a privilege?

Lover is a word he savors still, no matter how long it has applied to them — savors as he does his lover's skin, mouth eager to leave a trail of kisses across his collarbone, hungry for the taste of Shen's mouth as their lips meet. His own shirt is lost as they make their way toward the bed (a concern for later); and when the other man sits on the mattress, Usan is brought to straddle his lap, wet kisses growing sloppier at the same pace the need for each other grows.

He is almost reluctant to lift himself from there rather than grinding down, the impulse his body eagerly wishes to follow, but does so all the same, stepping back to kneel in front of his lover. Hands reach to unbutton Shen's pants, a motion he is allowed; but before he can go further, his hands are caught with a familiar sort of firm gentleness he can recognize as a sign to stop — not because his lover is displeased, but because he would lead him elsewhere.

It is but the natural path he is ever prone to following, the desire to please bigger than that of being pleased, the eagerness to ensure it would be good for Shen, attention entirely on him despite the shared nature of the act. His own pleasure comes second, he could say, though that would be untrue; his pleasure derives from his lover, and the effervescent feeling that comes with listening to the sweet song his body sings when played right. Yet this time he is led to the bed instead, despite protesting kisses that try to indicate he does not need the special treatment.

But that is a lie, is it not? How can he claim it to be true when the slightest touch makes him shiver most pleasantly, eager for more as if starved of touch? As he lays with his back on the bed, Shen takes the time to begin exploring his body, as if retracing a familiar path under a new light, every step known and nevertheless enjoyable with the freshness of new.

A kiss to the shoulder, another above his heart. His claim laid and renewed as if any other had ever been close to possessing Usan as completely as Shen does. Warmth spreads across his body, arousal settling between his legs; he lifts himself slightly to allow the rest of his clothing to be removed, already hard as he is exposed, and gasps at the feeling of Shen's lips pressing a kiss atop his hipbone, involuntarily arching his back.

❝  Ah — Shen… ❞ What other words may have followed are lost to his lover's own voice. ❝ You will let me take care of you, won't you Usan? ❞ Crimson eyes seek Shen's gaze, his body sensitive enough the light caress of a thumb upon the place Shen had just kissed causes a most pleasant shiver across his spine. It is little — everything done so far but a fraction of what could and would be, gentle indulgence slow and affectionate. It undoes him in moments, and Usan thinks he would do anything this man asked of him, if only to have more of his touch.

He should be the one taking care of his lover, part of him still thinks. When his mouth opens to reply, however, what falls from his lips is not denial. "Please," It is all he can do not to touch himself, waiting eagerly for more of Shen's heavenly touch; a plea, quietly spoken and genuine — a confirmation Shen could do — no, should do to him everything he so wished, as long as he didn't torture him with nothing.

Surrender is deliciously repaid with a pleased hum against his skin, Shen continuing his path as if intent to kiss every part of him. The hipbone, again, then lower to his thigh, from the right side to the left, and up to his hip again. It is a torture of a different sort, as Shen takes his time to touch him with an almost worship-like dedication he certainly does not deserve. A torture he is content to endure, writhing beneath his lover's touch. A gasp escapes him as Shen's lips press against his length, from base to sensitive head; the sound followed by a low moan as his lover's hand wraps around him and his cock is led into Shen's mouth. ❝  Fuck — ❞

Connection remains through interlocked gaze, and he can see his want mirrored in his lover's eyes. It only makes him more eager, feverish as he surrenders completely to the sensations. A finger teases his entrance slowly, and he grips at the sheets in some desperate attempt at finding something grounding. It's overwhelming, knowing he is wanted like this; that this man, the most wonderful person he knows, chooses to love him like this.

That he, too, is desired.

As he grows more erratic, his fingers seek purchase in Shen's hair, eye contact cut off by closed eyes when it feels it is too much. Usan tries to hold back from thrusting into his mouth, tries to hold back in general, but all it takes to make him writhe in pleasure is the tender caress of one of Shen's hands upon his inner thigh. Tender, even as his tongue teases Usan's length and his lips remain wrapped around him, a gentle touch even as his finger enters him, a mix of desire and affection headier than any drink. He knows he cannot bear it much longer, intoxicated with the other man's touch; yet as his mouth opens to warn his lover, no coherent speech leaves it, reduced instead to a needy moan. His grip on Shen's hair tightens, and he cannot help but thrust into him, earning a grunt that reverberates through his cock. It is enough to push him over the edge, his hardened length pulsing as sweet release overtakes him, mind blank as his body twitches in climax.

Usan finally relaxes, then, grip released and body growing limp. He returns to his senses to find Shen covering his abdomen in more gentle, brief kisses, a path that leads him up until their mouths meet. Breath still returning to normal, Usan shifts to lay on his lover's broad chest as he recovers; and despite his yet unattended needs, Shen merely embraces him, fingertips tracing his spine up and down, in a gesture that at once soothes and makes his skin tingle pleasantly.