Sep 4, 2017
Completed commission for @dragonfistleesin <3
Soft AU babes goofing off at the beach. Thanks for letting me do this, it was super fun!! C:
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Armenia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from T1
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
Completed commission for @dragonfistleesin <3
Soft AU babes goofing off at the beach. Thanks for letting me do this, it was super fun!! C:
The reunion lacks the enthusiasm of past meetings, Lee made it very clear to not come close last time, and despite all his stubbornness Ezreal can see when he's not wanted somewhere. Still It feels wrong to completely ignore the monk, so he forces the most gentle welcome he can muster for old time's sake. But even then it comes out bittersweet. "So. You are back.... Good." @dragonfistleesin
“Every tapestry begins with a single stitch."
—and their paths have woven together for a reason.
“Teacher! Oh, I think I’ve got a good pair for you.” She claps her hands, skipping from one foot to another. “Here, try them on. They’re just like the ones you said you wanted.”
Kabedon.
SEND IN “KABEDON” TO PIN MY MUSE AGAINST THE WALL.
She blinks in surprise when Lee’s hands come to rest on either side of her face. It is not forceful, but something about how they are now positioned is intimidating, somehow. She presses her back tighter to the wall, feathers ruffling nervously as they are crushed. “Is…something the matter?”
“Remember Me”
LEAVE A “REMEMBER ME” IN MY ASK, AND I’LL WRITE A DRABBLE ABOUT MY CHARACTER TRYING TO GET YOURS TO REMEMBER THEM.
//I cheated a little bit because I didn’t like how it felt when Kayle was doing nothing but consciously trying to make him remember <_<
First, there was nothing. It lasted for a very long time, the absence of anything. Just formless void.
And then, there was light, and by extension darkness. A bright flame, flickering and strong. The sort of fire that never dies, and ah, fire, that was the word!
You must pull yourself together, comes a voice, and it is filled with many things. The roar of a lion, the harsh scream of an eagle, the clash of steel on steel, and endless sorrow—but the thing that stands out most to him is the way it crackles like a hearth fire. The way that, somehow, it sounds like home.
My cousins of your world await you to joint their ranks, she whispers, and though they have no bodies there is now the awareness that she is she and he is he. Come, now. I know it is hard. But you will find your form.
It takes a long time after, but she pushes and pulls, shoves and coaxes, and finally, there is the faint impression of a smile. There you are. That is good.
And suddenly, for the first time, he is able to speak, too. “Who?” he rasps, and it hurts, now, the way he is confined in a physical form. She is there, but to his fresh eyes she is a blaze. Nothing is distinguishable but that roaring fire, but now it is tiny, just a fraction of what he had previously witnessed. But he sees clear, sees into that heart of flames with eyes he did not have before.
She stills, and her voice holds regret, then. “You do not remember,” she says sadly, and it is not a question, but in the next moment a pale hand covers his eyes. “Sleep.”
He cannot disobey, and so he slumbers.
When he wakes again, he can still see the fire, but now it burns inside an unfamiliar woman. The fire whispers home, and yet her face is a mystery to him. “Who are you?”
She turns to him from the corner of the room, where she is pulling on golden gauntlets, and shakes her head. A wild mane of hair just as glittering spills over her shoulders, and when she tugs a faceless helm over her features, he knows that is the end of that. “It does not matter who I am. Either you will remember in time, or you will not. I am here to help you, for now. But I must go for a little while.”
He does not even question her wings, somehow, though he knows they are not normal. He finds enough strength in his fingers to grasp a long white feather that flutters towards him when she disappears.
She comes and goes, in armour and in robes of blinding white, and she forces him to eat and drink though he does not really need it, not anymore. The fire inside her calls him, but her beautiful face is still as stone.
He comes to learn that she never says what she thinks or feels, but instead does what must be done. It must be very lonely, he thinks.
But it is clear she has a heavy duty, and yet she is there with him every spare moment, warm hands and a warm heart that contrast so much those blue eyes still as glass.
The day she comes back to find him standing on his own, she simply nods.
“Who are you?” he asks again, and she purses her lips.
It is not time for that, not yet, she thinks, and so she gives him a name. It rings true, but it is not the name he is looking for, and they both know it. “Elyon,” she tells him, and he frowns.
“Why won’t you tell me?” he says, and he is lost, seeking.
She shakes her head again. “Elyon,” she insists, and turns to go, but she hesitates in the door. “Sometimes there are parts of our past lives it is easier if we do not remember, when we change,” she says, and her voice is very small and lonely indeed. “I was a friend to you. It may be easier if I am not, any longer. We forget things for a reason.”
She stays, though, until he is walking, and she watches him as he slowly begins to fight, too, body growing stronger and more sure. He does not call her by the name she gives, and she accepts it without a word.
He asks every day, and each time she gives him a new name. They are all true, and yet none are what he wishes for. Elyon. Adro. Elohim. Varoon. Michael. Fashutanaa. Zadkiel. Praxidike. Justitia. Only the last does not have echoes of inheritance, hints that they are more titles than true names.
He cannot remember, though it eats at him, and finally, there is a day where it is clear she will not return. She does not look at him, and it is enough to tell him.
“Tell me,” he says, and it is something near to begging. She just shakes her head, and presses a sunstone into his hand, gold and glimmering. “You may call me, if you cry out through this,” she says. “I will come as soon as I may. You do not need me anymore. Your brethren will come, tomorrow.”
She steps away, and for a moment he sees her as she had been in the nothingness, beautiful and boundless and unimaginable.
“Who are you?” he asks again, and this time she hesitates.
She sighs, then, and murmurs, “Kayle.”
It is what he wants, finally, and yet…he still cannot remember. Her eyes search his face, and find nothing. She nods, then. “I’m sorry,” she tells him, and she means it. “Maybe you should not try to remember, though I wish dearly that you did.”
He reaches for her, but she is already gone.
[I heard some commotion about myself. What happened?] Fingers, moving swiftly, confusion on hsi face.
“sSomeone w-wWas R-rRather r-ruUde ab-bout yoOur lack of s-sSight. It wWas ugly.”
@dragonfistleesin replied to your photoset: tootiredkanella: You find a rather small quarian...
“Space her captain..”
((RUDE.))
☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡.o(´• ω •`)o.｡.
<3 <3 <3 <3 < 3< 3 3< 3< 3 <3