The entity of violence; an epitome of elegance.

  "The legends tell the tale and he proves them to be true time and time again. His legacy lives on, engraved in history never to be forgotten." Single Ship with Lissandra DESCRIPTIVE, MATURE CONTENT 18+ Cover by: ARS THANEA

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Did he scare the other one away? Surely his lady would find this hilarious.

[share-in-my-torment]

“How far did you fall from?”

Morgana was disturbed by The Darkin Blade’s question, even if it wasn’t the first time someone asked it. Her wings shook for a moment as she remembered her fall from the heavens. However, the literal fall was nothing in comparison to her figurative fall. The rage and vengeance that followed her fall consumed Morgana in the flames of her anger and passion.

“I fell far enough to become what you see before you, Aatrox,” The Fallen Angel momentarily spread her wings, coarse feathers ruffling. “Why does such a disturbing event intrigue you?”

@embodimentofwar

[embodimentofwar-blog]

The Darkin regarded her with a thoughtful stare, eyeing the spread wings before his gaze moved to her face. He notes her expression, the glimpse of pain and her hidden rage reflected in her eyes. That told him more than enough. He grins, and it looked almost cruel, but the words he utters next said otherwise.

“And yet you stand before me now. You had surpassed the frailty of what you were before, and turned yourself stronger. Why think of what you had experienced something that had lowered you? The scorched wings you bear now is proof of what you had endured.”

Aatrox lifted and stretched the claws of his own wings, showing off the tatters, damage inflicted upon him by past wars he had participated in. He then summoned his sword and pointed the living blade to the direction of the fallen angel.

“Do not disgrace yourself Morgana. Hold yourself with pride and remain true. Vengeance shall be your drive, but never lose yourself to it.”

[share-in-my-torment]

His concentrated gaze unnerved her a bit, Morgana wondered what the Darkin was judging from what he could gather about her. She figured his kind, which were few in number, could only benefit from learning about other species that inhabited this world. Although, Morgana hoped her journey won’t end on Runeterra, as so many hoped it would.

Morgana gave a quizzical look at the Darkin’s first remark, “Perhaps scorched wings take a different meaning to Darkin than it does for Angels. Losing one’s flight is one of the ultimate shames an Angel can experience. To be cast out and forsaken denotes how you are deemed unworthy in the eyes of Heaven.  Although, I really should not be holding them in such a high regard anymore.” 

The Fallen Angel’s hands itched to conjure a spell as Aatrox’s blade was summoned. However, she could sense that he was not looking for a fight, for once. Yet, there was no reason for her to drop her guard. She duly noted the scars that Aatrox wore with pride rather than shame. “If you say so, Darkin Blade,” Morgana replied with an air of hesitant pride. “Contrary to popular belief, my vengeance motivates me, but it is not all of who I am. My soul is far more than willing, but strong enough to not lose to the tempting doom that vengeance brings.”

She then declared, “I shall surpass what you see before you.”

@embodimentofwar

[embodimentofwar-blog]

What she tells him makes his core swell with pride. He lowered his sword and struck it heavily on the earth as his wings lowered, folding behind him. He nodded his head once, a smile clear beneath the shadow of his horns. The Darkin is pleased that she makes her resolve clear before him.

“I hope to see you rise to where you truly belong. If you wish to converse once more, feel free to approach me. I am sure the far Northern lands would give you some reprise.” For now he bids the Fallen one a rather hasty good bye.

@share-in-my-torment

[pickaxehead]

Cont.

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[embodimentofwar-blog]

Warm and cold, that was what this Darkin felt.

Keep reading

[pickaxehead]

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[embodimentofwar-blog]

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[pickaxehead]

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[embodimentofwar-blog]

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[pickaxehead]

A song.

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[embodimentofwar-blog]

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[pickaxehead]

Keep reading

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He pulls the witch in his arms without breaking the gesture of their contract. Sitting up, the Darkin shuttered as he finally felt the first pangs of fatigue hit him. He sighs heavily and closed his hand over the lithe one pressed over his core. He pulls it up slowly and kisses the back of her fingers one by one. Didn’t she know that she is the unfair one here?

Aatrox finds her words accusatory, and it makes him feel a distant ache in his body as if remembering the wounds she had inflicted upon him. His once broken horn felt broken once more, while the memory of her claws on his flesh gouging their greedy marks makes his hide tingle with anticipation and delight.

Doesn’t she realize that he had gone against everything he must be just because of what they have? Then again what do they really have aside from being each other’s willing prisoner.

“Who would have thought we would end up this way,” he began as he finally removed his gauntlet hand from her chest. Running it down on her hip, he pulls her flush against him.  “I am hardly unfazed when I am utterly wracked, what more proof do you need to believe me..?”

[pickaxehead]

“Bathe with me in warm blood, Lissandra." He takes her by the hand, firmly held.

Bathe. In blood…? 

She gave him an incredulous look, but once he touched her–she knew his intent was not as filthy as it sounded. She allows him to lead her, unsure if she decided right. 

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He catches her in his arms and swiftly glided down the halls, only to push her down on a bed of numerous scattered petals he had made at the very heart of the citadel. A perpetual cheeky grin is set on his lips as he lowered his head so their faces are too close for comfort.

[pickaxehead]

Well then.. whisked away so suddenly, all she could do is stare up at Aatrox in surprise as he pushes her on her back. She tries to move, but found themselves locked closely together. Not that it is uncomfortable of course..

She looked to the side with a frown just as the scent of the flowers hits her. Roses? How cliche. Why would she complain though, when he seemed so glad to see her again.

A pause before she sighs, facing him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returns his embrace.

Their lips lingered close, so much so she could taste his breath. What is she to do with him… “A warm welcome for a creature of the cold? You shouldn’t have, my dear.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

“And yet I must.” He says just as their lips collided. Breathing her in, his claws gripped her sides hard yet tender, cradling her close. He moved on top of her, kneeling and then paused to take a handful of the fragrant crimson surrounding them. Peering down at Lissandra, he scattered them over her in a shower of petals. It may seem childish, but he knew she would like it.

With a laugh he takes her lips again, though this time they kiss for longer. No teeth for now though his tongue does come to play. He wants to savor his queen. He stretched his wings over the both of them possessively. Oh how he had missed her so.

[pickaxehead]

“Bathe with me in warm blood, Lissandra." He takes her by the hand, firmly held.

Bathe. In blood…? 

She gave him an incredulous look, but once he touched her–she knew his intent was not as filthy as it sounded. She allows him to lead her, unsure if she decided right. 

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He catches her in his arms and swiftly glided down the halls, only to push her down on a bed of numerous scattered petals he had made at the very heart of the citadel. A perpetual cheeky grin is set on his lips as he lowered his head so their faces are too close for comfort.

[share-in-my-torment]

“How far did you fall from?”

Morgana was disturbed by The Darkin Blade’s question, even if it wasn’t the first time someone asked it. Her wings shook for a moment as she remembered her fall from the heavens. However, the literal fall was nothing in comparison to her figurative fall. The rage and vengeance that followed her fall consumed Morgana in the flames of her anger and passion.

“I fell far enough to become what you see before you, Aatrox,” The Fallen Angel momentarily spread her wings, coarse feathers ruffling. “Why does such a disturbing event intrigue you?”

@embodimentofwar

[embodimentofwar-blog]

The Darkin regarded her with a thoughtful stare, eyeing the spread wings before his gaze moved to her face. He notes her expression, the glimpse of pain and her hidden rage reflected in her eyes. That told him more than enough. He grins, and it looked almost cruel, but the words he utters next said otherwise.

“And yet you stand before me now. You had surpassed the frailty of what you were before, and turned yourself stronger. Why think of what you had experienced something that had lowered you? The scorched wings you bear now is proof of what you had endured.”

Aatrox lifted and stretched the claws of his own wings, showing off the tatters, damage inflicted upon him by past wars he had participated in. He then summoned his sword and pointed the living blade to the direction of the fallen angel.

“Do not disgrace yourself Morgana. Hold yourself with pride and remain true. Vengeance shall be your drive, but never lose yourself to it.”

[fury-of-darkin]

How are you fairing on the other side.

“You again…” Aatrox doesn’t seem particularly pleased to speak with his alternate self. “…Things are going as well they can be.”

[fury-of-darkin]

embodimentofwar:

A weary sigh for he finds this nitpicking somewhat childish. He needs not be lectured on what he should be doesn’t he? “I don’t feel different from last time we had spoken. What I hold within me is no different from yours. Is it so hard to believe that I am not as one sided as you are?

I will show fury if I must, delight when it is appropriate and sorrow for loss, etcetera. If you find me repulsive, I care not for I have other matters to worry about.

If you represent yourself as such then so be it. I view myself as instigator, judge and artist. I could only hope that the finesse of your tongue does not reflect on your sword.”

“…You are right; you’ve not changed since we last met. I simply had not paid it any mind then. Now I look closer, however, and see that you have committed a sin against your very nature…” He peers into the other Aatrox’s eyes. “I see in you the spark of love.”

The word felt dirty leaving Aatrox’s mouth, and the tone he spoke it with made that obvious. “The one and only thing we should love is our art, but you possess feelings for the Ice Witch, do you not?“ He remained there, silent, waiting for the other’s reply.

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He tries not to laugh, for he knew it would be rude. Was it truly necessary to mention Lissandra? A smile cracks however as he answers. "While you bother yourself to my affairs, I have grow beyond your reach day by day.” He settles down and steeples his fingers together. This may take a while but explain he will, if not only to give his counterpart some peace of mind.

“The Witch is Iceborn, and I Darkin. We both do not know what love is for it is a trait too human for us both to understand. She had forgotten what its is when her Watchers stripped her of mortality, while I have no recollection of my host’s life before I came to be. What we have..? I doubt it is something anyone could call love.

Even now we are yet to come to terms with this vicious cycle of ours. Still, we both wish to see it through even if it means breaking the norm, the monotony of our existence.” He pauses and tilts his head down as he looked to his gauntlet which he turns to a fist.

“But what we both know is that by my hand, and her devices, it is certain we hold a share of power formidable to many." Looking back at the other Darkin expectantly, he wonders how he would take this all in.

[demons-fate-deactivated20231206]

👁👁

Send me 👁👁 and I’ll draw with closed eyes (and then stylise  to make something blyatiful ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) your muse. 

My poor waifu.

[fury-of-darkin]

How are you fairing on the other side.

“You again…” Aatrox doesn’t seem particularly pleased to speak with his alternate self. “…Things are going as well they can be.”

[fury-of-darkin]

embodimentofwar:

He meets the other’s gaze in return, his head cocked questioningly. Rage..?

“Why would I allow such a thing to rule me? Rage does not define me for I am my own self. There is a time and place for that.”

“…The Darkin Blade is the Avatar of War; a representation of hatred and strife everywhere. Though I am capable of other emotions, anger is the very core of my existence. In you, I sense not even a fraction of that fury. Instead, I sense something else… Something repulsive.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

A weary sigh for he finds this nitpicking somewhat childish. He needs not be lectured on what he should be doesn’t he? “I don’t feel different from last time we had spoken. What I hold within me is no different from yours. Is it so hard to believe that I am not as one sided as you are?

I will show fury if I must, delight when it is appropriate and sorrow for loss, etcetera. If you find me repulsive, I care not for I have other matters to worry about.

If you represent yourself as such then so be it. I view myself as instigator, judge and artist. I could only hope that the finesse of your tongue does not reflect on your sword.”

[fury-of-darkin]

How are you fairing on the other side.

“You again…” Aatrox doesn’t seem particularly pleased to speak with his alternate self. “…Things are going as well they can be.”

[fury-of-darkin]

embodimentofwar:

He ignores the almost flippant reply. His mood was high and euphoric. He hums. “I could say the same thing. Just swimmingly I might add.”

Aatrox stares at the mirror image of himself. “…What has become of you? Your rage was lacking when last we met, but now it is nonexistent.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He meets the other’s gaze in return, his head cocked questioningly. Rage..?

“Why would I allow such a thing to rule me? Rage does not define me for I am my own self. There is a time and place for that.”

[fury-of-darkin]

How are you fairing on the other side.

“You again…” Aatrox doesn’t seem particularly pleased to speak with his alternate self. “…Things are going as well they can be.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He ignores the almost flippant reply. His mood was high and euphoric. He hums. “I could say the same thing. Just swimmingly I might add.”

[wizard-will-deactivated20201028]

✍

@embodimentofwar

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Kings often end up as corpses wearing gold. Their legacy is what truly cements their existence in history.

[pickaxehead]

A claw graces across her back, careful and adoring. He pulled her braid aside and stood close enough for his warm breath to wash over her cold nape.

A shudder ran down her spine, a flinch, but she does not turn around already knowing who had dared to approach her this way.

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He only continues his advances as his muscular arm snakes across her waist. “Lissandra.” Aatrox uttered in a whisper.

[pickaxehead]

“Aatrox.” She intoned in turn, her voice firm. She would not back down to him whatever it was he is trying to do.

“Is there.. anything wrong?”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

His lips brushed across her shoulder, as his hands transcend across her curves in adornment of her form. “No.” He places a sweet kiss just below her jawline as the Darkin moved, gnawing on the corner of her ear. “Stay.” His voice echoed, in a demanding manner and a hint of greed, proving such by the way his arms enveloped around her securely.

[pickaxehead]

She is… confused. Truly she is, and she tensed as he envelops her in his embrace as her mind raced.

What game is this she wondered. Why would he do this. How can he hold her with touches that reminded her of his former.

Disdained, she looked away–unwittingly serving to expose her neck further to his lips. “Please. Don’t.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Her denial only beckoned him, meant to that words were unnecessary for him to do as he desired. “Do you remember?” He whispers, a voice resonating that only she could recognize but this was not the Darkin, still.

Risen,  memories, which he had buried and denied before, resurfaced. Aatrox could never outrun from it now, as it only drove him closer to her than what he intended.

[pickaxehead]

“…I do. Very well.” She admitted, hesitation heavy in her tone. Her eyes closed, and she remained facing away from him, caught and unwilling. 

She can’t bear to hear him speak to her this way, not when she knows that he is not how he is before. It felt like a betrayal, more so when she knows that Ryze is close by, fighting and looking for that shattered Void Rune. The thought of the mage stirred her, and she found strength to squirm in his grasp to try and pull away. 

 "You were the one who set the bars between us, and now you break it.

Why?“

[embodimentofwar-blog]

She struggled but Aatrox is far too powerful for her to break free of his grasp. “You were never honest with yourself.” He peered over her shoulder to study the icy hues of her reluctant exterior. “It was what you couldn’t give to me.” The Darkin himself was aware of such hypocrisy in his words but this new being speaks for the previous. He needed to know.

“Why, even when I vanished, there are still questions left unanswered? Why must you continue to lie to me?” His wistful tone hinted despair.

[pickaxehead]

”What I could not give you?“ her brows furrowed, quite unsure what he meant. All the same, can he not see that there is no point to it? She had always considered herself a generous lady, especially when it is with someone whom she considers close to an equal.

Lissandra lowered her eyes, and then closed it, not wanting him to see her expression–how vulnerable she felt.

”…what ever answers I may have for you then is not relevant now. I can’t bring back something that has already passed.

You died by starving yourself. Left me with naught a word. I simply knew you were gone. I should be the one asking questions!“

[embodimentofwar-blog]

“Myself being here proves otherwise.” He argued though he remained composed before parting from her body though his hand remained at the center of her bosom.

“Your heart.” Murmured Aatrox underneath his breath before completely letting go. However his wings would briefly offer a familiar embrace as the protrusions strode across the delicate yet freezing skin of the witch.

“If only I had known it was reserved.”

[pickaxehead]

“It always was frozen. 

Nothing had changed. You changed nothing–you have given nothing to me.

Nothing but an annoying ache and an itch I want to satisfy.” She slipped her hand over the one resting on her breast, holding it close if not only for the briefest of moments before harshly pulling it away.

She then turns her back on the Darkin again, and with anger in her tone commanded him to leave her be.

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Setting his pride aside, he admits defeat but does not heed her command. Instead, he glides across and arrives in front of her. “You asked for my return… so I gave it. Even showing the remnants that still linger true in my conscience.”

He dared to stare straight into her sinister eyes before proceeding. “But you shoved me away, just like this.

I ponder what it is you truly need from me just so I can satisfy your greed.” His tone became stern, a growl accompanying. Until now, he bears his anger for her but never could he harm this woman as his hand rolled into a fist.

[pickaxehead]

She did not push him away this time or run–which she was about to do. Instead she placed a hand on the middle of his chest , where she could feel the pulse of life, of warmth. 

Lissandra looked up at Aatrox, her indecisiveness and disgust replaced by a fleeting touch of longing. What followed however were cold words.

“I just needed someone who could fill the void Ryze left in my heart. 

But I suppose, you simply could not compare to him. Only another mage would understand… 

You used me, and in turn I used you. 

 It was a fair trade, was it not? You should be more assertive of your decisions.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Not another word sprouted from his lips as he glared in silence. But without warning he takes her by the wrists and swiftly pinned the witch against the nearest mast where he seized her arms over her head, all the while he claimed a kiss from her as they locked each other, his claws grazing the icy skin but soon would soften.

Fingers laced between the gaps of her delicate hands. Her sweet flavor reminded him further of the past to where they first shared this very moment together, in the same setting– only in this time was a different situation.

[pickaxehead]

In her perspective, his lips tasted of bitter wanting. 

 Pathetic. 

 She struggled against his grip—her efforts, fruitless.  

She would have demanded that he stopped, rebuked him some more and belittle his efforts the way she had done in the past.

But she calmed and allowed him this at the very least, this kiss which she hoped would satisfy him once he is done.

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Even though it was flavorful, it had no meaning; no emotion.

Just an empty kiss as Aatrox parted from Lissandra, his gaze turned down and his grip on her faded in a ghostly manner. He spoke not a word, nothing at all. Unable to fully construct a sentence of any sorts. He felt pain… but not from his physical form.

Despair was visible in the bloody orbs of his as they tred to meet with her blindness but what he did next showed a sign of life: lunging forward as he sank his needle sharp jaws into her flesh and skin.

[pickaxehead]

His taste is the same as before, and it drew a memory of better days with the Darkin though one which they both lived out as a lie.

She wondered how they have come to  his, with all the needless pain and suffering that they must endure. And for what. 

 Her mind strayed, and the agony of his bite did not leave its mark on her senses. 

 She is numbed though her dark blood spilled between his jaws freely. Sliding a hand behind his skull, she embraced him—holding his face close as his bite depended.

“….yes, just like that.” she whispered, her voice strained, goading.

 "Make me feel something that is entirely yours.“

[embodimentofwar-blog]

His eyelids falling, her blood painting his teeth, and his touch descended to her curves where she is hoisted by the hips. His jaws unclamp from her flesh and cleaned off the stains with his tongue  until the scars were visible. 

Their gazes meet once more, forehead collided. Somehow, the crest reveals itself from his chest; the crest which marked him, cursed by her. He believed to have rid this from his previous body which he began pondering how it returned though his focus reverts back to the witch in front of him. “There is nothing mine with you.” He mutters.

[pickaxehead]

A delicate shudder wracked her skin as his tongue drew a pattern on the wound he inflicted. She stifled a sigh as his teeth stayed close while the gouges healed, merely leaving black and red stains.  

She meets his eyes, her own half lidded, weary but resolute.

But she does feel the pull of his mark, so similar to her own. His, only more transparent for unknown reasons. This she finds amusing. His kind are truly a mystery to her despite having the Darkin in her service for a while now. 

She pulls away slightly and inclined her head at him thoughtfully. Humming softly, she brushed her digits against his cheek, moving lower to tease a finger on the curve of his horn. 

“There is nothing for me to give. I have none left, except for one thing.” 

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He shook her touches from his horn while he ran his tongue along her exposed skin to clean away what is left of her blood. The cold mingling with her taste delights him, sweetening his growing anxiety and his confused bearings. His talons delicately brushed hair away from her throat  as his head dipped lower, lips now against the shell of her ear.

“What you can offer I will take. If it is part of you, even if it is your war, then so be it. As long as it is yours which I can call my own. ”

[thelanternwretch-archive]

True: Do you remember your first time? Before you became what you are now.

The wraith shakes his skull. “I don’t. That was a long, long time ago. I’m sure it probably happened - I recall being rather fond of some of the pretty ladies I came across in my youth. As for my ‘first time’ as you put it, I have no idea when or where.” 

[embodimentofwar-blog]

The Darkin chuckled to hear one of the Isles talk of such a memory, or lack of it. “Women are so lovely yet so confusing.” A sigh. “Though I could only conclude it does not matter to you now. You seem at ease with your current stance with intimacy.”

[thelanternwretch-archive]

“Intimacy? Is that what you call it?” He snorts out of amusement, his jaw clacking shut as though to try and hide his amusement. “I wouldn’t call myself at ease with it, honestly. Just… accepting that this new thing is now a part of who I am, helped along by others who won’t let me be.”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

"Somehow you remind me of my early days with Lissandra.” he chuckled. The sound was bitter despite the way his wings lifted in what appeared to be pleasure. “From hunger, dejection, a grudging affection--she has me leashed  so suddenly. What am I to do but accept and take when we’ve become one.”

The Darkin strode smoothly, and then, using his gauntlet hand thoughtlessly fingered one of the wraith’s chains. He stared at the links and then up at Thresh’s skull’s face. “The Lich intrigues us, but you..”

[embodimentofwar-blog]

He misses his queen, so much so it makes his body ache.

[embodimentofwar-blog]

Cowardice is unacceptable. Let fury become your essence of victory.