❛     watch Your Step   !     ❜     small Folly's Not Going To Put

pit's king.     ///     halvett.

          “   PEOPLE   SAY   THEY   DON’T   LIKE   violence ,   ”   begins   Sett   as   though   speaking   to   the   elements ,   whichever   one   of   them   may   be   willing   to   listen   ———   and   rubs   his   knuckles   against   his   palm ,   “   but   they   all   watch .   ”   And   sure   enough   it   feels   like   someone   has   been   watching   him   drag   the   faces   of   some   smart - asses   (   should   he   even   bother   calling   them   muggers ?   Cowards ,   maybe ,   nothing   more   than   that   )   through   mud   of   the   cold   city   streets ,   all   stealthy   and   secretive   in   a   way   Sett   is   far   from   familiar   with .   He   stands   to   his   full   height   again ,   hands   clenched   into   fists .  

          “   SO   WHOEVER’S   OUT   HERE   GETTIN’   an   eyeful   ‘a   this   better   say   hello .   I   was   never   good   at   hide   ‘n   seek .   ”

⇢  SETT  &  RAKAN .    /    @feyquil​ .    /    STARTER   CALL . ( FT . A CANON QUOTE . )

              watch they do.     to marvel at the spectacle of violence is to become a part of the audience,     witnessing knuckles coming into contact with another's face,     knocking out a tooth or two,     it's unique to that type of performance.     it is a dance that requires brute strength,     burly individuals that could easily instill fear into a layperson.     who better at this fatal dance than the king of the pit,     the boss everyone has whispered on    &    on about for his strength   ?     (   what show he truly puts on.     a meat head to the very end of coincidental confrontation.   )     sett's dance     ...     is it calculated,     or is it blind rage that overcomes his being   ?     curiosity may kill the cat,     but a bird's vantage comes from flight alone.

              ❛     not good at hide 'n seek   ?     ❜     finally,     he speaks,     blessing very atmosphere with his voice once more.     talking is his forte,     one of many gifts.     ❛     probably 'cause you're not supposed to punch those you find.     ❜     around the corner    &    he's in full view,     grin plastered on his lips.     mischievous.     not looking for trouble,     but to thank for the show.     or is silent appreciation far superior   ?     ❛     you did a number on those guys,     though.     not bad   !     i'm impressed.     ❜     despite his praise,     distance is maintained.     albeit rakan holds confidence for his own escape tactics,     he opts to be careful around the boss.     /     to become his enemy is to take part of the play,     to be on his stage.     this deadly dance is not for him.     not yet.

meme.     /     selectively accepting.

@shadowhelmed​ said :   *drops down to one knee* [ choke ], my liege

              this was bound to happen.     /     they stand at opposite sides of a battlefield,     life's game has dictated that they become one another's enemy,     for their causes    &    beliefs lie in conflict,     sparking desires for war    &    battle,     for one side to prevail victorious with erroneous perception of said victory coming from a just background.     the ends do not justify the means.     a canary must sing nature's song,     hear her reverent melodies that stir devotion    &    love for her creations,     for the wild magic whose freedom directly affects all life around it    ;    there is no question to it,     it must be left intact.     to limit such for another's cause is to rebuke nature's teachings,     it is to manipulate her benevolent will    &    transform an amiable love into a malicious force   !!     to commit atrocities all in the name of an order   !!!

              notwithstanding a resolute heart that wishes to paint all a part of said order as malevolent,     there was kayn who proved to be distinct.     perchance will he acknowledge that it is the folly of his own sentiments to become involved with one so closely associated with an order he's devoted himself to abolishing,     though the initial intent was to deceive.     this veneer attached to rakan's face found more uses than simply charming,     the act of befriending a foe for intel is just,     for is it not a fool that shall be punished for misplacing trust so carelessly   ?     but who must bear the title of fool   ?     kayn   ?     no.     even if original intent was to deceive,     even if their friendship had been found on initial lies,     that will disappeared the more he came to know him.

              each conversation served one absolute purpose    :    bring to light the plans of the order that threatens his home,     that threatens the magic coursing through these divine trees,     the humid air that felt refreshing no matter the time of day.     all what was brought to light     ...     was a newfound care for him,     came with a silent denial,     an inner conflict where he rejects these sentiments,     while a side of him advises him to accept it.     accept he cares for kayn,     that whenever the frown on kayn's lips curved into a smile,     no matter how small,     its power to brighten room was indubitable     ———     that whenever he bared his heart to rakan,     rakan would accept it,     he would not shatter this trust they've built,     knowing that trust itself is fragile    &    can never truly be recuperated if broken.     each time they gazed at one another,     each time dawn threatened with sun's calling,     rakan was aware of his own feelings    :    the feeling of not wanting to leave,     that sentiment of i want to protect you.     a force that cannot be trampled by time itself,     one that life cannot wish to understand,     no matter the desire for chaos    &    conflict,     the force of love prevails within rakan's heart even in war.

              now     ...     they lie in bed,     kayn atop rakan's form,     pressed deep within him,     hands placed against hips,     steady rhythm adopted to make things easier for him.     to call this just sex would be a sin in of itself,     it would be a blatant lie,     kept in control,     for to grant it autonomy in their relationship would prove disastrous.     /     though communication is a struggle,     though the path of what they have is rocky    &    it may never come to perfect fruition,     that's ok,     they have each other.     to tread upon dangerous,     mysterious path with another is a risk far greater than going alone,     rakan's pride shall give him needed strength to move forward.     /     pressing against kayn is an act to have more of him,     for him to press deeper without fear,     it is rakan's manner of agreeing through their passionate act that kayn may do as he pleases.     then,     comes the unexpected,     hands come to wrap around his neck,    &    he gasps.

              ❛     whoa,     what're you     ...     ❜     perplexed at first on his actions,     then digits begin to press down against his next,     efficaciously preventing oxygen to flow from air to lungs,    &    albeit his hands come up to grab kayn's wrists,     subsequent words betray his actions.     ❛     don't stop.     ❜     conflicting feeling of pain    &    pleasure,     an amalgamation of both is seeded at the root of his heart,     it grows    &    grows until it's overflowing.     it's not passion,     it's not trust per se,     but by far is this one of the more audacious acts he's ever allowed.     to trust someone with hands around his neck,     it's new.     he doesn't want it to end,     he won't allow it to end.     ❛     keep going,     keep choking me,     keep fucking me.     i'll     ...     tell you if it's too much,     i promise.     ❜

              ❛     it's a bit peculiar,     don't you think   ?     ❜     there's an attempt to catch her off guard,     catch her while she's alone     ——     dangerous woman whose capabilities demonstrates a forte for naught but one thing,     per his observing eye    :    killing.     hell,     one misstep is all it takes    &    he's certain that she'd have thirty different ways to kill him planned out.     granted,     he approaches her with caution,     yet can't help but wonder what compelled him to approach her in the first place     (   no,     he knows,     he knows   !     curiosity,     ever the stubborn mistress,     guides him.     a desire to know prevails above every sense that wishes to avert itself from danger.     ❛     a vastaya doing the bidding of a human     ...     ❜     rakan coos,     circling around her slowly,     noticing the distinct features on her personage that resembles that of a feline     —     he's intrigued.     ❛     you under a spell   ?     they got dirt on you   ?     ❜

x     ///     @voracites

i hate @feyquil​ so fucking much -

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sylas.     ///     unshackles.

               ❛ surely, you must jest, ❜ he mutters, imperative. leading a direct and mindless assault into the enemy territory without elaborate planing beforehand doesn’t exactly sit right with him. he’s done it before and it almost lead to his demise. after all, despite their ostensible ignorance and the ever so present feigned harmony, demacians never dive into a battle without a plan of action. and part of that mindset has stuck with him. doesn’t take more than one failure for him to become tenfold wary for the prospects of another battle. to his misfortune, they always seem to be prepared. be it day or night, his targets are always attentive of incoming ambushes. 

                ❛ they may be ignorant, however, they’re not stupid, ❜ he lectures, his voice stern and steady. it doesn’t take him long to shoot rakan a diverted glance, his brows arched in feigned disbelief. ❛ if you wish so, i can put you in the front lines. you’re too fervent a fighter, after all. ❜ for yet a few more moments, he keeps up the guise of disorientation, purposely trying to garner some kind of conflicted reaction from rakan’s part. not soon after, laughter finally comes forth. ❛ amusing, truly. come, i’ll go over the scheme with you again. ❜

              war is cruel.     he knows this.     no matter how entertaining each battle was,     no matter how much he laughed in the face of the opposition to evoke some form of ire that appealed to some sort of base desire to see others with bloodlust in their eyes for none but him,     war was still a tragedy.     from tragedy,     life will be born anew    :    hearts can sing in unison again for peace,     those whose wings had been maimed may soon find flight again,    &    freedom's fire may be rekindled once more through their unified actions.     this is a battle they,     together,     must fight.     no matter the difficulties that lie ahead     ———     alas,     when the enemy is versed in dealing with those who excel in magic     (   why fear what you can't understand   ?   ),     the scales are tipped against them.     what was once a leveled playing field is now an uphill battle,     each step meticulous.     maybe now he understands,     even if only a bit,     why his idea might not be of huge value.

              ❛     the front lines   ?     ❜     only typical for him to have a perplexed look on his face at that,     remain in a perpetual conflict,     rubbing at his chin    &    humming as if even entertaining the thought.     to remain quiet is to remain without an answer,     &    that's just rude.     he opts to speak again.     ❛     you want this pretty face to get hurt by a demacian soldier in the front lines   ?     naaaah,     i do a lot better just being from behind.     you get me   ?     ❜     soon after,     laughter.     a relief,     really,     their leader wasn't a stranger to humor.     it's enough to elicit a small chuckle from rakan.     ❛     alright,     alright.     just make sure it's easy to understand,     yeah   ?     none of those weird tactic words or whatever.     ❜

for  @zackinblack

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The Eternal Dancers