#muse sona asks

[ladybuvelle]

So how does the darkin lore update affect the muse, now that targon is directly responsible for sealing them in their current forms. Must have have been depressing watching all of shurima's splendor and glory fall to ruin due to petty ambition and greed.

The Muse purses her lips into a delighted pucker, as if to say “Ooo!~”. Though no sound comes out, of course. intelligent question. I’ll gladly answer you.>

younger then. This world, Runeterra, was younger then. My fellow stars were younger then. Fresher. Less subject to the decay of time.>

She paused for private thought, but soon shrugged it off.

Living is up to them. But it will always be fascinating to watch the process.>

[ladybuvelle]

"I would like to hear the song of the gods".

[ladybuvelle]

How different is Muse Sona's melody compared to 'normal' Sona's?

// It’s definitely a difference of culture and skill. The Muse has had thousands of years to hone her craft, and otherwise she’s a fully realized being compared to ‘normal’ Sona. She knows all the ‘cheat codes’, if you will, to manipulate human emotion as well with her songs. There likely aren’t many mortals that could ever hope to rival her mastery of music.

[ladybuvelle]

Many would envy the gods. For their immortality, their power. They are handed the keys to existence and made master to all that is. That ever shall be. But for all this power, all this longevity, they are empty. Hollow. In truth, they are to be pitied. They are without end, and yet shall never know the meaning of existing. Rather, they will never get to experience it firsthand. For the meaning of existance and indeed life, is to know turmoil. And without it, any existence is without meaning.

best, you are conditioned through said life to accept your inevitable end.>

all things end. Even stars die. They simply live so long that it would seem they’re to burn on forever. All things are bound to return to cosmic dust with enough time. All things experience entropy. All things suffer in their own fashion.>

Do not think my existence easy just because I have command of my face and know how to smile. You have no way to fathom all that we’ve given over time! All that we’ve lost... We do so much, and yet you’d have the nerve to call us hollow?>

[ladybuvelle]

I like the fact that sona is out here literally just throwing pots?? who will stop this squishy, soft menace

The Muse flung another pot over her shoulder, out the open-air window area, eventually followed by a distant ‘argh!’ from below and a smashing sound. 3 points.

squishy. I could crush a man between my thighs, you know. I have firm arms and strong hands as well. ‘Squishy’... are you trying to make me angrier than I already am?>

Another pot is flung, this time followed by the sound of a distant goat somewhere shrieking in surprise. Missed.

[ladybuvelle]

Ohhhh you love someone?

“.......”

[ladybuvelle]

Sejuani can feel Sona's fucking anger from the new god damn blog she runs and basically bulldozes god damn Shyvana to give her sort-of adopted daughter some food.

<I curse her very bones.>

all will be ridden with plague rot.>

fester and wither to the nothingness from whence it came, only to feed the earth and nothing more.>

The Muse is a little upset.

[ladybuvelle]

"do you have a musing for me, a humble yordle looking for a Hero?" (I really like your muse Sona m!a n.n)

she chuckles at the terminology, reclining on a soft chaise lounge couch while looking upon the small Yordle. Poppy, even without you saying so...>

What an ironic sort of destiny, though, seeing as her hero is herself. It’s quite obvious. But telling her would ruin the whole point, wouldn’t it? What a funny little person. Yordles were interesting in that way, being so unlike other mortal races. Were they truly mortal themselves? Even she didn’t know for certain.

Sona indeed starts to muse on a thought while becoming more comfortable,

she laughs soundlessly,

she raises a single finger, your ‘hero’, you must first decide what it is you’re looking for in one in the first place. One who fights for a certain brand of justice? One who follows a certain moral code? One who does not kill and fights only by peaceful means? Or one who is willing to wield your hammer for whatever purpose suits them? The races of men are selfish, Yordle. You carry a heavy, heavy task... aside from the weight of the weapon you bare.>