#sttrigh

[charmerquilled-aa]

✎ heard sb asked for a pencil :)c

✎ Get a doodle of your muse ( Not accepting anymore !! )

You be right!! So have a Sett boi! He has so much floof !! 

[drakrite]

☀️ 🌦 ( and when I finally have a pokemon verse, we'll reach our full power )

☀️   best friends

🌦   enemies to friends

you’re stuck with me, so Yes. 

[herbounty]

                    ❛    i`ll give you a nice pay if you can set up a fight between myself and the hand of noxus in your pit . believe me ... it`ll bring in a crowd that`ll pay really well .    ❜

( @sttrigh​ . )

[solliium]

❝    a kiss on the shoulder.    ❞       —— ✱ @sttrigh​

     another victory, another fallen body. winning is a hollow joy; all sarin cares about is the dance and how after it’s over, he’s comforted by the wounds. a bruise, a cut, all aching as if to scream you’re alive you’re alive you’re alive with a purpose. maybe tonight he’ll sleep without the aid of a tonic.

      he taps the edge of his blade to the dirt, right beside a face he won’t remember in another hour. “ it was a good fight. “ was it? he can’t remember. too simple and over too fast. he let himself get hit a few times, just to make it mean something. sarin  rolls his shoulders and smiles, gaze drifting across the pits. even in a crowd, sett’s easy to pick out: he stands behind a golden bannister, drinking from a golden chalice, with a handful of people framing him on each side.

     sarin sheathes the sword. the crowd is roaring kill him kill him kill him as if this place isn’t already soaked in enough blood and death.

    sett finds him later. gives him a fat pouch of coin and in exchange, sarin gives a crooked smile.

    “ stickin’ around for the rest of the matches? “ he asks, even though they both already know the answer. sarin still humors it, pretends to consider saying yes as he tosses the pouch in his hand.

     “ i would, “ sarin says, heaving out a sigh, shoulders weighed down with it, “ but i think i left the stove on and i really ought to go check before my house burns down. “ it earns a low chuckle from sett.

     “ you said that last week. running out of excuses, sarin? “ sett retorts, mouth curled to show a glimpse of his canines. 

     “ did i? drats. well, now i have to leave so i can come up with a new lie. see you next week, boss. “

     next week is a few hours later, after sarin has had a handful of drinks, and he’s walking, not to home, but just walking — the sort of late night pointless wandering people do when they know they’re not going to sleep. he finds himself in a different part of navori than what he’s familiar with and it’s here he happens across sett ( who won’t say much of where he’s been, but he has a delicate scent about him — sort of like flowers or warm tea  — that overshadows the usual aftershave he’s come to associate sett with. this is important because it’s one of the few things in the pits that doesn’t reek of violence. ) and invites him to join his walk. sett makes a remark about a stove being lit, but he ends up ambling along with sarin anyways.

     “ i think about dying a lot, “ sarin says, after a long while spent walking in silence. it’s enough to draw sett’s gaze onto him. the cover of night does little to ease the stare’s smoldering intensity. sarin smooths his fingers against a blossoming bruise on his cheek.

     “ or, well, what happens after. some people are reborn. some become spirits, and their spirits become legends. but i’ve thought long about it and i want to be reborn as a star. a small one, mind. nothing big or great. “

     “ and why’s that? “ sett asks, voice softer than it might normally be. if sarin notices, he doesn’t remark on it. “ most people’d want to at least be a constellation. “

     “ a constellation’s being greedy. i want to be a small star. one that’s easily missed. but i can look down on the world and still marvel at it and how terrible and beautiful it is. and — it’d be nice to have a purpose, to know i exist for something. “

     sett says nothing, not for a long few seconds in which the breath grows heavy in his chest, and sarin glances at him.

     “ alcohol makes me for rather unpleasant company, “ sarin murmurs.

    “ nah. ‘m just thinking about how if you die, i’ll lose a lot of money. “ sett grins, but sarin doesn’t miss the edge of softness. they both laugh, quiet and rumbling in the night air.

     “ that’s a cute way to say you’d miss me terribly. “

     “ you’re getting bold there, sarin. “

      sarin laughs again, and when they’re both back to walking in peace, sarin turns. it’s quick, but the message is clear enough when he presses his lips to sett’s shoulder.

     thank you.

[solliium]

a forehead kiss.

— ✱  @sttrigh​

  the gambler's appearance becomes increasingly more familiar. misri begins to anticipate it. every so often, the delicate ringing of a bell makes her pause, gaze flickering in search of someone that isn't there. in the end, she's fooled by herself, conned by the ringing of bells at her own ankles.

     but then, sometimes, it is settrigh; here to make another losing bet. she comes to enjoy his games — even, dare she say, his company. it’s the loneliness. for all of the memories filling the tower, it is empty and devoid of life. the gambler breaks the monotony of it all.

     near the base of the stairs, a bell rings. misri looks away from the new lantern she has created and ah, there he is: a tall and mocking figure who seamlessly fits in.

     ( she is the lightkeeper, tending to a tower of infinite memories. what everyone else has long forgotten, misri remembers — so doesn’t a spirit, half forgotten, belong here? where he is remembered? )

     “ if it is not the patron of ill choices. “ she makes her way down the steps, stopping before the last few. sett saunters over with teeth on full display. he stops at the base, leaving them at eye level. “ tell me, settrigh: what bet shall we have today? “

     she thinks his grin widens. she thinks his teeth have grown sharper since his last visit.

     “ quick to the point! i’d almost think you like gambling. “ a die appears between his fingers. misri watches its ever changing surface as it rolls between them, coming and going. a new number every time. she smiles now, slight creases forming around her eyes.

     “ i am only entertaining your whims, settrigh. it is nothing more and nothing less. “

     he laughs, a guttural sound that resonates throughout the tower.

     “ whatever you say, keeper. “ sett pauses, long enough for the meaning to be clear. misri clears her throat in a quiet demand he continue. “ i was thinking of switchin’ things up a bit. why don’t you make the bet? “

     her eyebrows peek high on her forehead. misri touches the end of her braid, head tipping to the side. she looks to a flickering lantern. one of them always seems to fade when the gambler shows himself. “ i would not know what sort of bet to make. “

     “ i’m sure you can think of somethin’. “ he taps a finger to his skull, grin threatening to split his face. misri breathes out a sigh, lashes dusting across her cheeks. a thousand memories play: a thousand pointless bets.

     “ very well. i wish to play a game of dice. something simple. “ the dice between his fingers stop. she cannot make out the numbers. “ if i win, i would keep two of your dice. “

     he pretends to think this over, but the sharp toothed sneer gives him away. “ a’ight - bet. and if i win, - “ he is once more toying with her, as if he hasn’t already considered what his wager is. he takes a step onto the stairs, forcing her head to tilt back. “ - you have to leave the tower. “

     he catches her off guard. misri tenses. she averts her gaze, looking about the tower that is and has always been the same for as long as she can recall. she pretends to think it over. “ very well. “

     they settle on the cold floor, bells ringing as they move about. misri folds her legs underneath herself and sett sits, one crossed, the other drawn up. the dice weave between his fingers. a lantern goes out. the game commences. rolling dice echo throughout the tower and the stairs become dotted with darkened lanterns.

     the sun is rising ever higher.

    “ well, what do you know. “ misri lifts her eyes from the dice to sett. she smiles. “ seems i won, lightkeeper. sure hope your tower won’t fall apart without you in it. “

     “ so it would seem. “ misri regards the doors to the tower. she reaches forward to grab the dice. sett extends a hand and misri presses them into his palm. her own hand lingers as she rises to her knees. she grabs his shoulder for balance and leans forward.

     in this second, he knows what is to come. a scowl darkens his features. her fingers curl against his shoulder and misri dusts her lips against his forehead, lingering for half a heart beat. 

     “ unfortunately, i am both a liar and a poor gambler. “