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aurelion-solar

Soraka’s New Splash Art in LoL: Wild Rift

#daughter of life and light; she fell like a dying star ( soraka ).

fawke

Stars hear me!..had a lot of fun on this and was a great way to unwind over a few days.

#daughter of life and light; she fell like a dying star ( soraka ).

aphellos

Hailing

stargiving

aphellos‌:

A relaxed breath is released from cold, painted lips as the Lunari’s eyes flutter open, misplacing the small snowflakes caught in his lashes. As one often doesn’t, Aphelios had not realised he had fallen unconscious, but there was much more to be alarmed about than just that. An unfamiliar warmth swept over him, taking away his pain, as well as the presence of his sister, whose voice became distant. Their link, spent.

With gaze coming into focus at the sound of an unknown, kind voice, Aphelios looks up at his saviour; a breath catching in his throat. Tales of the Starchild were common to his people; a sibling to their Aspect, some would even say. Such wonders sparked curiosity for the lights that accompanied their moon in the night sky, guided their love for reading the stars and finding dreams and futures becoming one. And legends of the being of the stars did not leave her out, of course. Her compassion was beyond humane, and even though they had only now just met, her aura felt safe to the Lunari. Although he had heard her caring words clearly, the monk lay there for some time still, transfixed by her. To think, he had been saved by the Starchild herself…

But eventually, he finds the strength to break the spell. Blinking up at her, Aphelios gives a small nod of understanding and begins to get himself up from the snow. Bracing for pain from wounds as he went to stand, worried hands wander over ripped and stained fabric where injuries had once been. A confused sound escapes him, which startles him, causing Aphelios to stagger back into the rocky wall of the mountainside once more, a hand coming up to his neck. There was no pain, not even the raw feeling that would stick to him after restful days of preparing to intake the noctum tea. Bewildered eyes turn once more to the Starchild, as if to question if this was her doing.

Soraka watches attentively as the young Lunari slowly rouses, his eyes fluttering open almost gently, pale skin and dark hair graced by snowflakes. Those same dark eyes widened with shock as they settled on her, the young man seemingly starstruck as he gazed upon her. She assumes that he knows who she is, and although it was rare Soraka met people who could recognize her as who she truly was, she was not surprised that a member of the Lunari would know her even in this form.

Despite the circumstances and the pain that began to sink deeper into her mortal body, Soraka couldn’t help but laugh softly in endearment. Humans always endeared her to begin with; she had been fond of them ever since she had seen their world born and them with it. Tales of her were far and wide among them; some called her different names, or described her differently, but most knew of her in some way. Though, since she had descended the mountain and joined them, few recognized her in this mortal body. Those who did regarded her with shock and awe.

She wore a warm smile as the Lunari steadily rose to his feet, but his surprise was replaced by another. She watched, calm and gentle as she always was, feel for wounds that she now wore ( though she had no intention of letting the young man worry about that for now, so Soraka kept her cloak drawn around her ). Although this body was mortal, her soul and her celestial power were divine and much more powerful than anyone could truly understand.

“Yes, I healed you, child of the moon,” she answered as she picked up her staff from the snow and used it to slowly rise to her feet. “Let us find somewhere to rest for now. It has been too long since I spoken with your people.”

#aphellos #v; tbt.

aphellos

Hailing

stargiving

aphellos‌:

@stargiving

Uneven, jagged breaths are wisped away in the cold mountain air, lost forever to the snowy cliffs. The warrior’s arms are wrapped around his angular form while the fabric of his outfit is blown wildly around him from the updraft what whipped across the small pathway clinging to the mountainside. But Aphelios could not feel the cold, nor the pain from his fresh wounds. Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he tries to take in a controlled, calm breath, only to be greeted with the tight grip that pain kept around his neck.

Finding support against the icy rock of the mountainside, Aphelios lets out a groan, shutting his eyes tight. A soft, familiar voice urges him on to safety, out of the snow to tend to his wounds after tonight’s successful mission. But his legs falter; wobbly knees giving up beneath him as his hands struggle to find a grip on the slippery wall. He lands in the powdery snow with a soft thump, drops of red staining the pure white near his side, and where his hand fell into the snow. With eyelids fighting to be opened, the monk’s dark hair, spotted with snowflakes, falls over his face.

He would try to stand again… in a moment.

Mount Targon was as close to home as Soraka could get ever since she had willingly chose to descend from the grove to Runeterra. Every so often her heart ached with a quiet melancholy and homesickness, and so she would find her way back to the mountain and climb its harsh cold slope to the peak. The wind and the snow always bit her skin harshly, even with her cloak drawn tightly around herself while she took her slow steps up the mountain.

It was very rare for Soraka to ever come across another person while ascending the mountain ( although it saddened her heart, most she saw had met their end and lay lifeless, frozen in time where they had died ). Her heart sank in her chest when she climbed the rocky, snow covered slope and saw a slummed figure leaning half against the rocks and half on the ground. The Starchild assumed this one had been taken during their journey as well, but as she tread closer, she could feel the quiet, somber flicker of light and life within his body. It was so quiet, so faint, like the beat of a hummingbird’s wing, Soraka would have missed it if she had not ventured closer to him.

Quickly she fell to her knees, her staff landing in the snow as she rolled the injured man over, her brows knitted together in worry as she looked over his wounds. She recognized the symbol on his face and on his clothes, a quiet shocked gasp leaving her. How long had it been since she had seen her dearly beloved Lunari, her children and kin of the night sky? Too long, she knew that much. It became all the more pertinent that she help this young man.

Her hands glowed with her celestial magic, whisps of etheral light and glow curling around them as she placed them on his wounds. Soraka let out a sharp inhale as she did so, a blossoming pain growing on her own body as she gave her own partially divine life essence to heal the Lunari’s wounds.

“Wake, child of the moon,” she spoke in a gentle, warm voice. “We must move to shelter, young one.”

#okay sorry it got long but i hope that makes up for the wait #aphellos #v; tbt.

renxamamiya

Dawnbringer ✩ Nightbringer

#daughter of life and light; she fell like a dying star ( soraka ).#i really love these skins tho......

ynhiphann

You were one of them

#daughter of life and light; she fell like a dying star ( soraka ).

stolengood‌:

@stargiving

The smell of death choked the air. Village after village reduced to little more than bloodstains and rubble. A path was clear, not just in the noticeable line of villages that had been torn through, but the footprints too. Massive clawed footprints. Something large had come through this place and brought only destruction in its wake.

The trail of slain villages stopped abruptly. Bent, broken trees and those footprints led into the forest that bordered the last village. Deeper into the forest still they went until they met a cave. Within that cave was the arbiter of the end himself, Aatrox. Horned head upon gauntleted hand he dozed with eyes closed, resting on his front. The familiar yet primal sound of his breathing, deep and even, proved that even with as much blood on your hands as he you could still find the peace of sleep.

Tattered wings drooping lazily over his back made him appear as the sleeping dragon you would be warned against poking in fairy tales. But who would be foolish enough to follow this trail of death to its end? To Aatrox?

The very ground ached underneath her hooves as she walked through the devastation that had raked through the earth. It told her of the lives that had all lived here before, and how each one now left a hollow, aching feeling that nearly overwhelmed her. Soraka felt her own heart tremble with grief in her chest, finding herself wanting to settle on her knees and grieve each life that had been so carelessly thrown to the end here. She wouldn’t have the time to do so, though, as this path continued, and she tread along it slowly.

At the end of all the destruction was a sleeping mountain of a creature that Soraka only knew in passing; he was old, his existence something of a legend among the mortals nowadays, and his wrath knew no end. In the petals of the grove she had watched the mournful fall of the Shuriman empire, the fissures that opened to the void, the creeping claws of havoc that settled as demons among the earth. She had never encountered him during her time among mortals until now, and in some ways, she supposes this is a fateful meeting.

Her hands clutch her staff, staring up at the slumbering darkin, and even for someone whose hands were so red with blood she felt a measure of sympathy. It was in her nature to do so, to always feel for every living being.

“Is this all your doing?” she called out to him, knowing very well what the answer was.

#stolengood #v; tbt.

sabonhomeblog

Flowerboy Project

#the glow of starlight may be soft but it still burns ( imagery ).

aurelion-solar

Soraka Story: Halfway Between the Stars and Earth

#im feelin a type of way about this now that we've got pantheon rework #outofthegrove.#idk if its him But Still. It Could Be.

expressions-of-nature

by Scott Hotaling

#the glow of starlight may be soft but it still burns ( imagery ).

as far as soraka’s new lore goes, i am incorporating a majority of it, however i am keeping a lot of my own development as well. rather than a fall from grace so to speak, soraka willingly descended from the grove to live among the mortals. she sought to guide them, but among them she saw the infinite potential they had, and she came to love that aspect in them. she decided it too needed to be protected. soraka lives among mortals as a seer and guide, offering her healing powers and guidance to those who seek her out, but she does seek to truly control their path as she once thought she had to.

since leaving the grove, though, soraka’s powers are not as vast as they once were. she was an incredibly powerful divine being when she still lived in the grove, and as consequence for leaving, her appearance has shifted to like it is now ( i have stated before that she can be mistaken for vastayan, which she often is by humans, but most vastayan would probably recognize her as divine / not entirely one of them ). soraka’s true form is hardly comprehensible to mortals as she was pure unbridled cosmic light and stardust; long hair that seems to flow infinitely, a third eye where her horn is on her physical form, wide eyes with no iris or pupil, constantly shifting cosmic energy moving over her in patterns like the markings on her body. at times, its possible for other cosmic beings to see a glimpse of her true form when she is exerting a lot of her power.

her powers remain very strong, though. she still has a connection with the stars and they still speak to her, telling her the many millions of paths that stretch out into the future like a spiders web, and soraka can still call upon them. she’s an incredibly powerful being, but simple choses to live simply and modestly, moving among humans as a gentle guide, living an almost nomadic lifestyle. as a once-celestial, she doesn’t have the same bodily needs; she doesn’t truly tire or hunger, but indulges in those activities anyway. she also still, to some degree, retains a sort of half-immortality. soraka can potentially live forever, but her body can be mortally wounded and she would die. it is unknown what would happen to her, the cosmos, or the stars if she died, but it is certain that access to the celestial grove would be lost forever if she did. it is worth noting, though, that her body is incredibly durable and she can withstand far greater wounds than a mortal.

#outofthegrove.#hc tag tbt.

tiagorcp-art

Soraka, the Starchild. Commissions are open! Contact me for more info. Painted this as a gift for a very special someone

#daughter of life and light; she fell like a dying star ( soraka ).

@legenddeathed

The Starchild’s fingers brush along the thick, dark leaves of the undergrowth that surrounds her; she can feel the earth human beneath her, whispers from the grass and leaves to tell her what had happened here, who had been here. She can feel the faint warmth of a man and his daughter who had passed through this forest two fays ago. There were a pair of birds nesting in the tree she stood under, a fox and her kits had slept here a night ago. She felt the hum of all life as it moved and breathed, she could see the paths that had lead them here, and she could see the outstretched paths before them that diverged into webs of possibility.

For now, she followed the path that would lead her to the Kinkou and the Eye of Twilight. The night before, the stars had come to her and sung in fractured hymns, something that would sound like static or gibberish to mortal ears. They told her that the Eye of Twilight was in need of her guidance. She could feel that unrest in their life like ill tides when she listened to the stars whisper.

It had been so long since she had last spoken with the Eye of Twilight; each generation had always been someone Soraka had considered a friend. She had been a guide to them among the spirit realm for many centuries now, but it had been a little more than thirty years since she descended from the stars, thus leaving the Eye without her guidance. Thirty years felt minuscule to an old being such as herself, but she had learned long ago time was much different among mortals. It all felt precious, important, and their lives were so short in comparison.

Soraka continued along the path through the Ionian wilderness, her fingers occasionally idly brushing along the trunk of a tree, the petals of a flower, the stems of tall plants. She was retracing a map of sorts; the stars divined to her where the Kinkou where now after having been forced from their temple. She could feel a vibrant hum as she came nearer, as if she felt something calling to her. The Starchild could feel the familiar cold, calm light of the Eye as she pushed aside a branch to be greeted with the sight of a camp. It was like she was searching for a single star and there it glowed, quiet and blue. Every soul was like a star in its own right, but this one was not the Eye she had known thirty years ago— this was not Kusho, and that caused a vague worry to creep into her thoughts.

#legendeathed #v; tbt.