#replies | orders

[noxianhand]

❝ You will most likely choke to death on your own blood, which will be unfortunate. ❞

and i darken sentence prompts | selectively accepting.@harbinger-of-machines

NEON GREEN EYES AGLOW through the smog of zaun’s alleys, the bionic behemoth sneers at the words spoken, distaste evident in his body language and expression. while it isn’t untrue that a proper warrior should have a death laid in blood and violence as the wolf’s chase in itself dictates, he finds such unprompted remark unnecessary. then again, since his life has been made into this warped version of its old self, corrupted by the doings of another techmaturgist, his tolerance towards strangers and smartmouthed passers-by has thinned considerably.

the man that addresses himself to him falls into such category, as expected. funny, how one cannot be at peace in this grimy little town.  

“and what do you know of such deaths, herald?” he recognizes him as such, if only by the word of the local folk. a myth, nearly a messianic figure— he’s heard it, time and time again, the word of the desperate that sung praise to the man as if he was more than just yet another deranged scientist. “i would not look down upon a proper, noxian death—but i doubt i would find it in these gutters.”

[noxianhand]

' pardon my words but- you look ridiculous. ' she laughs. ' armor suits you far more than silk. '

and i darken sentence prompts | selectively accepting.@serpentieux

by what he knows of usual decorum in galas and the sort, darius should take offense on the young ducouteau’s uncouth little remark, but he can’t be bothered with it, not when by all means, he agrees with what is said. it’s uncomfortable she has found him by his side of the ample room, waiting the hours out with an untouched drink in hand, but he can’t truly feel offense to what rings true to his ears; it is simply not how he behaves. the might feels at home when clad in steel and even if what he wears right then is the full dress reserved for noxian military, it doesn’t feel right—strange, how a man as wrought by war as him feels less at ease in these ballrooms and manors than in the open battlefield. 

all he does, then, as response is to sneer, halfway into a snarl, and shake his head.

“it does, that much you are right about,” red eyes upon the woman, he hardly seems bothered by her inhuman looks. “but if i came in armor to one of these fancy little events, i fear that might cause an outrage among the highborne.” he still remembers the ungainly little words he heard from noblemen about his origins, all because of his ‘commoner’ accent. 

letting out a marked tsc as he returns his gaze to the mass of people gathering for a waltz, he seems frustrated at best. he resembles vaguely a caged animal and to him, there’s no cage more cruel than these asinine social conventions.

“as entertaining as that might have been to watch, i needn’t cause this sort of commotion with my political role.”

[noxianhand]

❝ I stopped knowing what to fight against. ❞

and i darken sentence prompts | selectively accepting.@fukainoumi

with how their relationship has been and the nature of their interactions, darius can only assume to take those words coming so easily from the mage can count as a small victory. he had been hellbent in fighting the empire, fighting their cause, running away—so to know his ambitions seem to steer from that now is fortunate, to put it simply. humming, the sound a low rumble coming from his chest, he watches fai with his usual hardened gaze.

there’s nothing soft about wolves, all fangs and claws and howls, and as such, there is nothing soft about him.

“if you no longer know what to fight against,” he starts, taking advantage of the fact they are alone in the glorified cell that is fai’s room now to try to assuage the smaller man through words, not by force alone. “then know what to fight for, what to fight with; noxus has offered you a chance, mage. take it.”

[noxianhand]

You and I were supposed to gut each other the first time we met, but look at us now. We've overcome trials that destroyed our nations and could have taken the world with it - we escaped a hell that nearly broke us. You have always been a man whose strength I've admired, but now I know that your prowess on the battlefield was only the half of it. There is nothing you cannot survive - and nothing that I cannot endure, so long as I have you by my side.

send darius an anonymous love letter | accepting…?@crown-guard

the handwritting is enough of a telltale sign of the sender, not to mention the intimate familiarity he’s taken to each stroke of pen through the years they’ve grown into the habit of letter sending; darius’s memory has never been a weak suit of his, let alone to what came to personal interests, and this is one of such circumstances. back when they still had opposing ideals, it started as a discreet way to pull through the worst of long months without meeting, and later, it had been a way to avoid losing sanity to the horrors of what looked like an apocalyptic nightmare made unfortunately true. 

now that they stand under the same banner and have survived fires far greater than either imagined they reasonably could, this comes as comfort whenever garen goes away for business with his sister. it serves him well as grounding, given no matter how rational a man he is years of ceaseless torment brings even the sturdiest of minds down with the distinct feeling of paranoia. to be made aware his other half lives even away from his sight while the demon king still breathes and sees is reassuring, far more than it should be to put it rather simply. 

folding the letter with obvious care, he lets a quiet little smile grace his lips and as if in natural progression, his eyes fall over the discreet metal band over his ring finger. he stores it away in their shared bedroom, now made far too big by the younger man’s absence, and counts the days before he returns.

maybe later, he’ll write him back—but as far as he knows and cares to know, he’ll be home before it arrives.

[noxianhand]

Kissy face

3/5 kisses | @noxiankingnot accepting.

while the empire is no court, as darius often is more than happy to remind the snobbish nobles who believe themselves above common judgement, noxus still has its set of rules and ceremonies, many of which he’s come to be acquainted during his time as hand under the previous grand general. under swain he’s earned another title, one that expanded his responsabilities and powers, but while there’s more to his plate, he still remains hand to this grand general.

it chafes his pride and relieves him all at once; the terms he’s been on with swain have been shaky at best, but he respects the man well enough not to object when in this gathering, he takes to his knee in proof of fealty. it’s most unnecessary, he knows, as all around know that he’s pledged loyalty to the nation and has nothing but true to his words since the first time he did, but ceremonies are ceremonies and this is still less grating than bending the knee to his predecessor.

he can stomach it, truly, as he takes jericho’s gloved hand and presses his lips to its back, eyes of rust red hard and expression stony as he gazes upon the older man. he can stomach it until he sees the glint of a pleased little smile in those eyes, tainting jericho’s mostly neutral expression, and that alone fans a discreet flame of outrage inside his chest, to simply imagine he revels in his perceived submission. 

he’s sworn fealty, but not blindness.

good thing he’s trained himself in extinguishing those flames, years and years ago, since the day he was made to serve under boram, but even so, he can’t help the discreet outline of a snarl that threatens to break over his features as he takes to his feet, then his side, gaze trained upon the dark stones of the bastion’s walls.

[noxianhand]

give ur great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandma a kiss bcause u love her ok @ GK

2/5 kisses | @transvcrtoselectively accepting.

what he has gathered so far is simple: they are alike in essence, in their very own nature, but she’s somehow more ancient than himself, something that runs deeper and is more primal than even him, god king of war and chaos. it’s admirable, to see someone else who holds the same ideals and has roughly the same desires, and the best of it is that she seems to enjoy the wolf’s presence or in the very least, is pleased by his deeds. 

it’s refreshing, truly. between the frightened mortals, the angry tyrants and his warriors, he has little room for affinity — kinship, even. his own direct ancestor seemed unwilling to partake on bonding, so this was appreciated.

it’s no wonder, then, when they meet again, he takes her hand into his own, leaning down to press cold lips against the back of it, his height having him bend down in nearly a bow to manage it. it’s a gesture of respect above all, those molten gold eyes meeting her own as his lips pull into a discreet but meaningful smile. “vivian,” his voice is half a growl, but he denotes no aggresion in his body language. “it is a pleasure to meet you once more.”

[noxianhand]

how to care for your darius : step 1 , acquire weapon of choice ( preferably an axe as it is his favourite ) step 2 : approach darius , tempt with raven feathers if necessary ; step 3 : proceed to hit with said axe , how this is done is your choice :3c ; step 4 : ? ? ? ; step 5 : a happy darius .

anonymously or not, send “how to care for” instructions for my muse@noxian-roseaccepting.

darius gives the guile a long reproachful stare, though he keeps quiet for the most part of her little monologue disguised as instructions. truly, the woman knows how to put him off in more senses than one and the saddest part is that he knows better than to act towards her as he does towards any other unfortunate soul foolish enough to incite his anger.

she’s no simple woman and even if he’s no simple man, he acknowledges himself to be no true threat to the deceiver.

still, by the end of her little speech, he snickers, tilting his head to the side a fraction as rust red eyes meet bright, mischievous golden ones. “raven feathers?” he knows she makes no vague, attempt to get under his skin — it’s surgical as she knows the truth behind her taunt, so he bothers none with hiding that away. “now tell me, would that work with you, deceiver, or do you simply think me that cheap?” by now the title no longer comes off as an insult from his razor-sharp tongue and his remark has no bite, just a vague hint of idle amusement. 

[noxianhand]

How to care for Darius: From a distance of 15 feet or greater unless explicitly told otherwise.

anonymously or not, send “how to care for” instructions for my museaccepting. 

a low chuckle comes from the might, one that’s rife with casual amusement. this was perhaps the first good message of this sort he got, truly, and the closest to some sort of reality in his honest opinion. 

“i’m glad to see there are still smart people willing to put forth sensible input.”