so like i went to my relations page and noticed
are goin 2 totally diff directions like
eye on da titty
eye on da street
//Hang on, just let me do another thing or two, then I’ll get to that ask meme thingy…
This is a great comeback for all of that “I don’t see race.” BS
AND YOU BENEFIT FROM IT EVERY DAY
Water Tribe Diana.
Wish she had more skins like this instead of the two out of character whore bitch valkyrie and pretty pink flower fairy princess attire.
Come on Riot, she’s a a scarred, bitter, and resentful warrior, devoid of emotion. I think the last thing she’d be doing is prancing around in a field with flowers and bunnies.
This woman is a badass and my hero. I think she deserves an alternate skin fit for her for once.
[ ask-swain ]
Outside her tent it had been peaceful for most of the day. She’d spent the evening prying dried fish from their sticks and layering them with uncooked rice to store for later times. Without warning, she heard and angry screech and a loud thump on the roof of her tent. There was a muffled noise, and whatever it was rolled down off of her tent and into the sand.
The Mistress rose and filed out of her tent, only to find an angry flapping mass of black and tawny feathers. Her hawk, Naveen, was screeching at the black bird in it’s talons. Upon further inspection, she found that the bird was a Raven. What was a Raven doing in the desert? She snapped her fingers and clicked her tongue at Naveen, who reluctantly released the animal and flew back up to perch on top of her tent. He hissed one last time at the Raven. The Raven let out a guttural caw in retaliation.
"What’s gotten into you, Navi?” she mumbled under her breath before gently lifting the pile of disheveled, shining black feathers. Gently, she preened them back with her fingertips. She was greeted by four red eyes. She knew this Raven. She felt the blood drain from her face as it blinked up at her and presented her with the parcel on it’s leg. Her hands trembled as she took it.
Over the past fifteen years, she’d lulled herself into a false sense of security. The number assassins and bounty hunters had drastically dropped in number and skill over the years…and she’d made herself believe they’d finally given up on her. But this heavy parchment in her hand had snapped her hope. She felt a sense of rare fragility as she broke the seal with her knife and read the contents.
In classic Noxian fashion, the letter held all the geniality one could want, but it still held an undercurrent of threat in one of the sentences…always reminding you just who you were dealing with. It had never failed to be an effective way of working, and it was no different with Sivir. There was no doubt in her mind that the Albuul Sheffra could get pulled into her problems if she ignored this summons. There was no other choice to be had. In short, she would respond with her own message, sent back by way of Beatrice.
Grand General Jericho Swain,
My men and I are fine. I appreciate your good will.
I was under the impression that your Puritanical Noxian vision excluded outsiders. What could I offer you that you don’t already have? In any case, I suppose I’m curious enough to find out.
I feel it would be wisest of us to meet on neutral grounds, as I wouldn’t feel safe in Noxus, and vice versa for you in Shurima. Perhaps Piltover would make a good place to meet? I only ask that I am allowed to bring three people of my choosing, and you follow the same rule. It’s for safety precautions, I assure you. As long as you uphold your word of non-aggression, I will do the same.
So far in your rule, you’ve been genial to me. It’s the Old Order I have my problems with, but you’ll understand my apprehensiveness about your New Order. Regardless, I accept your request.
I expect I’ll hear from you again soon.
Sivir Kassaf, Mistress of Battle and Ruler of Shurima’s Southern Sands.
His gaze wandering amongst the sea of exquisite dresses and suits, Swain mindlessly spun the remainder of his pinot noir in his glass in time with the quick three-beat of the waltz. Entertaining the upper classes of Noxus was hardly and enjoyable pastime, but necessary-they paid the most taxes of anyone, after all.
The movement concluded, with light applause from the assortment of nobles and dignitaries. Jericho lowered his cowl and emptied his glass, mulling over the work that had to be done, planning his evening after the ball.
He stepped through the chattering crowd, making small talk with whomsoever deemed themselves important enough to take his time, moving towards the other side of the room, hoping to gain some other sort of enjoyment that his previous location had not offered. He was unenthused to find a group of Piltovian diplomats, despite their buoyant mood.
“Mon General! What a fine evening this is!”
"Many thanks to you, Grand General!"
"Such fine wine, you must share your secrets!”
He offered a dry smile in reply. “It is a pleasure to host Valoran’s finest, I am glad that the evening has lived up to your expectations, gentlemen…”
Before they could return the pleasantries, he was mercifully interrupted by one of his Raedsel Guards.
"A message for you, sir. Your…raven…has returned."
Swain nodded in apology to the Piltovian ensemble, and followed his guardsman out of the hall. In the dimly-lit passageways of the Hold, the Raedsel passed over a less than elegant scrap of paper. As the Grand General unfurled it, the Traveler flew through the hall, giving a single cry to signal her return.
Welcome back, my dear.
The area of Shurima never was, and never will be, a pleasant place. If you ever request me there again, I shall refuse without a thought.
Your company is as fulfilling as ever.
As expected, the tone of the messagewas blunt and to-the-point. The desert-folk had never gained the social finesses of the more modern societies-the change was refreshing, especially from the evening’s stuffy pomposity. It was, however, a positive response, and all that one could ask for. He gave a slight smile-things seemed to be coming together, after all.
"Guardsman, fetch the scribe-give him instructions to reply to the Battle Mistress, arranging a meeting with her entourage at the South Piltover Council Hall."
With a crisp salute, the Raedsel marched off with his instructions, as Swain turned back to the door of the Great Hall. He stroked Beatrice’s head as he strode to rejoin the festivities.
"It seems we have some diplomats to coerce, my dear."
All in a day’s work.
|theseneschalxin: But on a serious note, Darius x Garen (cause hateships are still ships)|
when someone who just started bioshock infinite says they ship booker and elizabeth
|Anonymous: Disney Anon has returned! Describe the relationships of ten people on your relationships page using disney songs.|
LeBlanc - Frozen - Let It Go
Jarvan IV - Return of Jafar - You’re Only Second Rate
Katarina - Prince of Egypt - Playing With the Big Boys
Noxus - Home on the Range - Yodle-Adle-Eedle-Idle-oo (you bunch of cows)
Bonus - Swain in the Frejlord campaign - Hercules - Zero to Hero
(Yes, I know there are non-Disney songs in there, but c’mon…)