∅:^)
zed’s opinions on muses / not accepting.
Perhaps Zed has given his opinion on too many people of late, for when he glances at the mirror hanging in a spare room before he falls asleep, he finds his mind insists on bringing to life a tidal wave of judgmental thoughts which he cannot possibly hope to abate when the moon is nearly setting, and it has been hours since he has spoken to anyone who might pull him from these all-too-introspective moods.
Is he happy with the type of person that he has become?
A younger Zed, a happier Zed, would be ashamed, he thinks, to know that he turns so easily to murder, but a younger Zed would not wake up in a cold sweat reliving memories of corpses with flowers blooming from their ribcages and Noxian drake-hounds ripping the limbs off a screaming warrior.
The Master of Shadows must be cruel so that the First Lands might one day prosper. He must stand firm and confident no matter how many might doubt him, knowing that Ionia must learn to work together, to fight and expel the invaders lingering on their shores so that such a horror will never happen again. He must be capable of using any and all means to ensure that all people are free to pursue strength without restraints, to ensure that Ionia is safe from Noxian brutes, to ensure that they are not viewed as a weak land ripe for invasion, but a land that is strong because of all the diversity which it holds.
But though he loathes admitting it, even to himself, Zed knows the more he wears the mask, the more the mask becomes all that he is.
He touches his skin where the shadows have marked it, and watches as his reflection does the same.
When did his eyes grow so dark?
What does it matter what he thinks of himself? Zed does not matter, his goals and the fact that he is the only person capable of carrying them out do. He might be cruel, he might long for happier days, he might think himself strong and intelligent and clever and more callous than he ever wanted to be, but none of that matters.
Sleep’s comforting embrace will whisk these thoughts away into the darkness where they belong, and tomorrow, Zed will know he has the strength do what must be done.
He blows out a candle, exits the room, and shuts the door.
