Dragon king? This wasn’t a dragon, though. This was a human. Why would this man call himself a dragon, let alone their king when he wasn’t?
Jhin tapped his mask in thought. This man did have fine clothing. Very extravagant. Almost too extravagant for Jhin’s taste. And silk, it looked like. How very fine. He certainly was a person of high standing, wasn’t he. Was that why he called himself a king?
“Well, I never knew a dragon to wear clothing. But I don’t suppose a king would wear anything less than silk.” If a dragon king did wear anything.
“You speak as if you have known many dragons in your pathetic mortal life.” Talon spat, deeply incensed by the suggestion he was not a dragon, but some mortal pretender. Of course he was a dragon and a king! How could this mortal dare suggest he was anything less than that?
He hissed softly. He should simply unsheathe his sword and separate his head from his shoulders. That would be so much more entertaining than speaking to him....
“Or is it the filthy, lesser, distant cousins of ours that you speak of? Those mindless beasts which roam the mortal lands with nothing better to do but roar and hunt for their food, for they know not of civilisation? I am from the divine realm, human, not one of their kind. I have descended upon this world from the heavens and taken upon a mortal form so as not to alarm you lot any more than the revelation of being in my presence surely already would.”
“Of course I would wear silk. I may roam this mortal realm, but I am nonetheless a king, and thus deserving of only the very best. Do you disagree?”
((WHERE THE HELL DO YOU LIVE THAT IT GOT *THAT* COLD?))
//I’m in Toronto hun. I’m in the thick of this shit, and even so, my body can naturally take cold pretty well. I used to run in -5 to -10 weather in shorts just to train my body. However, this one fucked me up.
There was frost beginning to form on my ears and I can still feel the burning sensation on them.
What do you love about your muse? What do you hate about your muse?
questions for the mun, regarding the muse
What do you love about your muse?
What’s not to love? This small murder hillbilly rodent thing with a spirit to fight literally anything he wants to protect his PROH-PER-TAH. I honestly don’t know where I ‘fell in love’ with Kled but I just did and I am okay with that.
What do you hate about your muse?
I don’t want to fight everything, contrary to what Kled is like. So I’m ATTEMPTING to make him a little more subdued by taking him off the mushroom juice. :I
Pit’s relationship with Jhin is him constantly telling Jhin to go away. Since Pit doesn’t like him and he’s scared of jhin.
Talon just doesn’t like Jhin cause he steals his jobs for his ‘art’. Cause he’s had to kill people, but then Jhin kills them instead and he’s like. “YO MY GOLD!?”
Khada Jhin may like to see himself as living perfection, but he and envy are nigh inseparable... not that anyone would catch him admitting to it. He covets every last thing which he doesn’t have, be it the material or the still breathing. Coveting is what has brought him to the name ‘Khada Jhin’ after all-- after being disillusioned with the boy he was, he thought about the man he would want to be, want to kill to become, and so he then was.
But those that pull his jealousy are not aware of it, not until it’s far too late. Jhin is nothing but patient when pursuing, preferring to show himself as a friend or even an ally until their final moments dogged by the cruel realization that the seemingly benign and charming artist they had befriended was the comforting facade to the Demon stewing underneath.
He kills that which he covets, destroys whole his jealousy, and steals anything he can take. Jhin is a chameleon-- entire personalities, voices, names and songs have been devoured at the end of his blades and stored away to placate the desire for more another few months.
To say the short of it, those that catch his envy are on a track to meet the Kindred.
BAD END- The bad guys win. Everything that can go wrong for my muse had gone wrong.
Mentions of blood, torture, and abuse. 600+ Words
When was the last time Jhin had felt pain? Stiff joints from the recoil of Whisper and small cuts and bruises was the most painful thing the Virtuoso had to put up with on a day to day basis, but this… now this was true pain.
The hand he brought away from his torso was stained in bright beautiful crimson. Had he not been mortally wounded, he would have taken the time to admire it, but alas… There were more pressing matters at hand.
Jhin had been in place for his next performance when his play had gone off script. For once, he had been willing to share the spotlight, for his next performer was no ordinary actor… Jhin had managed to corner Zed himself.
It was perfect. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, bathing the sky in deep purples and pinks, casting the earth into deep darkness. And oh, the people! Hundreds of them! They would all be in the audience. Hundreds would see his work. His biggest show yet. The prospect of it all had taken Jhin’s breath away, a familiar sense of nervousness tingling in his fingertips as the time for the curtains to rise approached. He caressed Whisper, humming a familiar tune to himself.
And there! There he was! Hood up and eyes down, Zed waded through the crowd, oblivious to Jhin. The Virtuoso clicked Whisper into place with a flourish, taking time to savour the moment as he settled into position. The man he settled his scope on looked up at him and smiled, and Jhin’s excitement turned to ice in his throat. The man he was aiming at disappeared like smoke, the cloak he was wearing fluttering to the ground.
Gloved hands covered Jhin’s face and yanked him backwards, pulling his beloved mask off and pulling Whisper from his grasp. The punches rained down on him until he could no longer feel each individual stab of pain. He had known. How had he known?! The question rose to Jhins lips, but all he could manage was to sputter out a bit of blood before another punch rocked his world.
Quite suddenly, the beating stopped. Through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, Jhin could see another figure beside Zed, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to stay him. Jhin barked out a weak laugh. Had the prospect of catching him really brought these two brothers to work together?
His whole mind felt like smoke, and his mind threatened to dip into unconsciousness. The last image he had before blacking the world moving around him as he was dragged away, with Shen kicking Whisper off the cliff.
But oh, they wouldn’t grant him an easy death, now would they? For what Jhin had done, death would have been a mercy, and mercy was something the brothers were alien to. His throat was bound in a collar like a dog, but his arms and feet had been left free. When he tried to move, he found out why.
Both his hands and feet had been shattered into hundreds of pieces, left without so much as a bandage to cover them. He tried to scream, but a toneless moan was all he could manage. Those two were brilliant, he had to admit. They had taken all his tools away from him. His gun, his hands, his feet, and his tongue.
The Virtuoso may have been able to escape his prision, but to what end? He would never be able to perform again, they had made sure of that.
