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"You are not a little boy anymore, dazzled by my magic. It is your magic, now, too."

And, for the first time, Ezreal could really believe it. His eyes were still as blue as they had ever been, but they sparkled now with something like amusement and even desire. The blood that hovered above his palm was his this time -- not that of an unfortunate animal that had passed by. The fact that he’d drawn it and then managed to wield it like his father meant something.

And that thought makes him smile, wide and gleaming, up at the man who’d taken him in as family and taught him everything he knew now. This was his life now, after all, and it was a good one. This was progress like never before, but somehow the child wasn’t satisfied yet -- he wanted more progress, more growth, and more praise. As the blood bubbled and swirled above his hand, all Ezreal could think of was how he wanted to get even better.

“Yeah!” He declared, and as if that was more concentration than someone his age could expend, the bubble popped, and crimson dribbled through his fingers. His smile faltered, dropped, and then returned in full-force, along with a whole bout of childish giggles. “Our magic.”

#!hemo #and with this ... I must close the M!A #it's been real folks #M!A end #drabble #stained with scarlet #answered

"Father," the boy approached his master with a measured, graceful pace. His golden hair flows as he walks, and when he locks his blue gaze on Ezreal, his hands appear to be full of shimmering rainbows. "It appears I possess another kind of magical talent, other than the one you're teaching me." Out of all children he could have taken as an apprentice...

GO ANON AND PRETEND TO BE MY CHARACTER’S CHILD.

Perhaps it had been selfish of him, but he’d always been more selfish than he cared to admit. It had been the first time someone had left him on their own terms and had been allowed to walk away with all their blood still in their veins. He had watched her walk away and had turned his back knowing that he would never return. It was years later that he heard of her marriage, and several more before her child was of a suitable age.

Her mind and her magic -- two of the things he had admired most highly in her -- had been passed on to her offspring, and Ezreal couldn’t help but smile, thin and cruel, when he saw confirmation that, indeed, he was as great as Ezreal had imagined. Eyes of crimson seemed to glow with greed and pride. “Marvelous,” he drawled, clasping hands beneath his chin, eyeing his protégé like one would watch a particularly profitable business venture. “Pack your things -- we’re heading to Demacia as soon as possible. I’m sure they have some tomes to help you hone your other skill ...” The only trick would be how to get the information without alerting the suspicions of others, or worse -- the Demacian authorities.

#this is bad i apologize #!hemo #anonymous #answered

[11:57:23 PM] Sailor Luxy Pux: lays down

[11:58:19 PM] Sailor Luxy Pux: please be nice to my brother

[11:58:34 PM] ℜasshole: I'm gonna fuckin fight him

[11:58:40 PM] Sailor Luxy Pux: don't fight him

[11:58:48 PM] a banshee: FIGHT HIM

#!hemo #theimperialtactician #stained with scarlet #dad's orders #dailylifeofgaren #dadimir

"HELLO! MAKE ROOM FOR DEMACIA." [DailyLifeOfGaren]

“Demacia? No thanks,” the hemomancer spoke through bored lips, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin on his palm. Murky eyes stare off to the side, utterly disinterested. “Now, more importantly, who are you and why should I not drain you of every drop of blood in your body?”

#!hemo #dailylifeofgaren #anonymous #answered

“I do not have gross eyes ...”

#actually he hates his eyes they're like the colour of the scum on the bottom of the pond #mixed with this awful disgusting bright hextech blue #!hemo

"D-dad?" the boy stutters, still not quite used to calling this man by that title. "Will I ever be allowed to go back... You know, to my real mama?"

GO ANON AND PRETEND TO BE MY CHARACTER’S CHILD.

He’s tired of the question even when it’s new, and eyes of sanguine lock onto the boy with a sudden intensity. “No. You’ve been given a great honour, and you will study under me. There will be no return, so I suggest you dispose of that thought as soon as possible to prevent ...” Snivelling. “Issues.”

Ezreal’s lips curl downwards and his eyes wander off to the side. “In time you will grow used to it. If it makes it easier, you may call me master.”

#!hemo #???good #anonymous #answered

Father, what's this red coat that I found?

GO ANON AND PRETEND TO BE MY CHARACTER’S CHILD.

Ezreal knew what it was before he turned, but it still made his heart shiver to see the familiar cloak. It hadn’t been so long since his master’s death -- had it? Time passed strangely in the temple; lurching and shuddering, and sometimes days turned into years before he realized it.

“It was my father’s,” he hears himself speak, and crimson eyes watch his child examine the cloak--the weight of it almost too much for young arms with metal trim and luxurious silk. It takes a moment to speak past the lump in his throat when he says “It was his favourite.”

#!hemo #dadimir #stained with scarlet #anonymous #answered

Wide-eyed. Really likes the idea of having a butler.

#!hemo #crippledgeneral #HOLD ON I'M ASKING MY DAD #stained with scarlet #CAN I GET A BUTLER #dadimir

#!hemo

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