🇦🇳 🇪🇽🇵🇱🇴🇷🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳 🇴🇫 : it is better to be feared than loved. the road is paved with
blood. visions of what was, what could be. secrets unwound. the ceaseless
watcher. you can sit on a throne, that doesn't make you a ruler; It only means
you have an arse.
headcanon heavy & personal interpretation based , rules under cut
written by rhea ( they / them , 28 , est timezone )
where to find me : @noxianguile , @lifebinds , @bindslight
most of my content will be sporadic, i'm rather busy outside of the rpc. that being said, please don't overly ping me about replying to things. i am a slow writer, but i also work 6 days of the week CURRENTLY, and i play ttrpgs & want to hang out with my friends outside of that. I may not always be here.
i am here for fun, and not for any other issues. please keep it that way.
i don't have a public dni nor do i maintain strict guidelines. just don't be a freak or an asshole. respect that we're all adults in a hobby, be kind.
if i follow it means i want to interact with you.
on the same breath, i will only interact with mutuals.
if you unfollow me, please soft block me.
i'll tag most things with tw/cw trigger , no special tags will be used for those, but please understand there are a lot of heavier themes present with the nature of this genre, and character.
my hcs, graphics, things of that nature are not up to be taken, or reworded, or played off of without explicit permission. and honestly just not at all.
Noxus has endured, because Noxus is strong. But the Grand-General Jericho Swain knows there are many kinds of strength—and the greatest leaders of the next age will be those who can wield them all...
i would like more detail personally, but that's shrimply because i think swain is the sort of person who extensively seeks after wanting there to be literal maps of the SMALLEST details possible, a street vendor is there on every 3rd tuesday? he needs to be aware of it, there's talks of an addition being added to a building? it needs to be listed, obviously this is a bigger route map, but it makes me think about that one lore excerpt from forever ago about progress day, and caitlyn sitting on the bridge waiting for the noxian spy.
like if people aren't aware, if they're not LOOKING for all of the small inconsistencies, or too perfect covers, how many places have they swept over night and claimed by their spies being successful, or saboteurs doing what they're meant to.
i shrimply think all noxians think they're doing """"""the right thing"""""" while simultaneously all trying to fucking kill each other, and power is so utterly tumultuous, that none of what they do is right AT ALL regardless of intention, they are conquerors, colonizers, they are literally war - minded and heavily militant. while some people cannot help that they are forcibly noxian due to being under their control, THOSE are the ones who are not idyllically, morally noxian, they will never truly be noxian bc they want to destroy what has been made
they are the first to turn "traitor" which i don't think even, fucking truly exists under noxian command, everyone is naturally waiting for their turn under the knife.
swain something something appearing humble while playing innocent to conflict with the immediate notions that he’s a truly terrible person because he so vehemently is teething on the rind of the world to make it “better” while actively making it worse
❝ sort of. ❞ it is echoed with a muscle pulling the brow of his left eye upwards. shadows lining features to draw the depth of what he is much deeper from human. it stirs something, some thing beyond thought, further even still from meticulous planning. it is a piece not yet played, and yet he finds himself exhaling in such a manner everything begins more to mimic a drowning man. barely afloat in the wreckage.
i'm thinking about how the arm's feathers kind of move up and over his clothes. and how they seem to sort of absorb any kind of living material, or feed off of it. I think when swain begins to channel the demonic energy, it tends to siphon from his own body. connecting from where the energy forms into the prosthesis for his arm, and it causes fatigue and pain, as it leeches into his own body, pushing to empower and heal him. while it does gift him with some vitality, it tends to leave him in pain, as he cannot physically handle the amount of energy that surges through him when he is ascended for very long.
this is both from losing control of himself, and losing any more of his body to the demons... but i think there's a bit of a tolerance built up against the energy that's caused by his transformations.
i think there is a constant tug of war within himself. but swain is an intelligent man. he's worked hard to get to where he is. and no one gets to see him when he's vulnerable or tired BUT the ravens... i think he talks with them, but it often sounds like he's musing or mumbling to himself....
swain doesn’t like the sound of his own voice, it sounds foreign to him. like a distant memory, something that used to be human. he spends a lot of time in his own head, thinking, gathering the right words to respond with. he doesn’t care to stutter or stumble over his words, to be grasping for anything.
No, he needs to appear in constant control, already strategizing, and playing out possible responses in his thoughts, analysing every word spoken down to inflection.
there are very, VERY, very few people that he actively speaks casually to. and if you are one, it takes a long time for him to fully get to that point, and even still, there are things he just won’t say.
❛ i came here to look you in the eye and tell you that you have no power over me. i will no longer be scared of you. ❜
― 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. ( accepting )
trevale , he recalls , is a beautiful settlement of farmlands , and villagers all too stubborn and hearty. perhaps , that had aligned the acclimation in a more positive manner for the girl. between the coast and the mountains , he recalls being both fond of visiting , as well as pleased with the turn out of supplies for the empire.
there were colloquialisms when she had spoke casually , and been overheard by the grand general. something often missed , considering how common war orphans were , unlike the underlying FEAR that was always picked up when swain was spoken to. a tool he used to rule. yet swain , well ... he always was good at observing those that would surpass many expectations. it's something in the way they carry themselves.
perhaps , he ought to respond sooner , more than the contemptuous raise of a brow. offering a moment for her to reconsider words. but he is acutely aware the longer he takes to form words, the angrier riven will become.
❝ is that all you have to say ? all this ... ? for a meager display of valor. ❞
contempt is easily displaced for a moment , as a father might place disappointment on a wayward daughter. she would not return in the way he had once hoped , no , he was no fool of signs. a grandiose display like this ... was a warning for what was to come for him. a dull ache crawls from the scars lining the absent space his arm once held. it tinges the muscles, pulls up towards already tightened jaw, sharpening lines upon his face in shallow light crackling from the ravens loitering about.
