((About time I start doing these again. For anyone who is confused, Talon's Diary is a small diary kept on his person, given to him a long time ago by the General. It's to record his thoughts, and to just generally write about the things that happen in his life. Also to keep a record of things to show to the General when he returns.
Also, they do have art in them for those that are simply here to enjoy that.
They can be a little long, so I place them under read mores to not clog dashboards. They're a great way to delve more into the lore and headcanons I have for Talon, so hey, they're pretty important. But anyway, here goes.))
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It has been a long while since I have last written in this diary, General. Much has changed, since then. Most importantly; I have changed.
Long ago, when you had first taken me under your wing, I didn't even turn a passing glance to the orphaned children that littered the streets. They were fodder. Weak. Insignificant. In my mind, if they couldn't pull themselves out of the same hole that I had clawed my way out of with my bare hands alone, they weren't worth a single piece of copper.
...I didn't realize the worth of a life, back then.
I suppose I've changed a little, in that regard. I... watch over them now. I help them. Give them a fighting chance, unlike the people of Noxus that abide by the rules of 'Only the strong survive, the weak shall be slaughtered by their own mistakes.'
...Many do not realize just how hard it can be just to follow that saying.
The orphans of this city need that fighting chance... and I help them receive it, be it only by a loaf of bread and a small bag of coin to sustain them for the week.
As an orphan, you don't realize just how nice life can be. You walk the streets, begging for help, only to be grabbed by the arm and thrown forcefully to the cold ground while being ridiculed. You're an urchin. You've no more worth than the mud under a poor man's shoe.
You long for affection. For the love that a normal family receives. You go through each day wondering if it will be your last, if the pains in your stomach from the lack of food will eat away at you enough to finally draw upon your last breath. You live in fear of death without experiencing the life that you had been denied.
But many of these kids... many of them had families. Had a life as a young child. They had their families ripped away from them, each from a different reason.
General, though I do not speak much to them, the orphans of this city that I manage to aid refer to me as a form of silent angel that dwells in the shadows. I suppose I help them, and have earned that title, because I realize that pain. I've lived those hardships for the majority of my life, before I found home by your side.
Foolish as it may be to the Noxian way of life, I take a small amount of pride in helping these kids live to see another day... perhaps I've grown a little softer than I'd like to admit.
...But, I will admit to keeping these actions secret from Kat and Cassiopeia; I feel like they'd mock me for being soft if they found out.
((Final set of diary entries. Thanks for all the asks, you guys! :> (I hope it's okay, but I imagined your appearances to be like your avatars, so I just wrote something along those lines, aha.)
Also, please don't send anymore! I'm done with these for now. Chances are I may revisit them in the future, though, so be on the lookout for that if I reblog the prompt again. 0: ))
It is something onlookers, and even some Summoners tend to forget.
We, as champions, feel... a fair amount of pain when we receive injuries. Summoner magic nullifies some of it, instead turning it to warmth. While I, myself, do not personally mind pain, as I have grown used to it... the Summoners do take it upon themselves to share some of it with us, so we are not the only ones suffering.
Though, the pain they feel is... dull, compared to us.
It is sometimes difficult to deal with. Each time I look upon my enemy, as I'm about to be dealt the final blow, I still feel fear. Fear that I might not awaken again, fear that something could go wrong with their magic at the wrong time, and 'respawning', as they call it, simply... won't happen.
A silly fear - but I was never one to put much trust in other people.
I fend for myself; it's my nature.
Yet, upon death, the Summoner's magic will take over our bodies, healing us, and taking away any traces of blood or pain that we once felt. It's warm. Almost like laying down to bask in the sun when your skin is cool - an amazing, relieving feeling.
I remember closing my eyes the first time I died in the Rift. I didn't feel my spirit leave my body, as most say normally happens during death. It was still present, and it felt as though I had simply fallen asleep.
When I opened my eyes again, I was safe in the spawning area, inside our base. It was the strangest, most comforting feeling I had ever felt in my life. In a way... it made me realize that death in Summoner's Rift wasn't too bad, minus the great deal of pain we feel beforehand.
Just like falling asleep and taking a short nap, only to wake up feeling completely refreshed and alive moments later.
They abandoned me as a child, tossed me away onto the streets of Noxus for the vultures to feed upon. Of course, they probably didn't think that I would have enough smarts to survive on my own. Many children don't know what to do without their parents around, after all. They cling to them to stay alive.
Me, however; I was trained at a small age to survive. Trained by the harsh slums of Noxus. As I grew older, I will admit that I did begin searching for them. I studied the gruff faces of the males of Noxus, and the alluring features of the women, trying my hardest to see any recognizable features... anything that resembled me.
I searched for many years, until I finally stumbled upon two people that heavily resembled myself late one night.
An elegant woman who was coated with makeup on her face to try and make herself look years younger than she actually was... she looked similar to me, in a way. And the cloaked, civilized looking man she was with held a few of my features. These two... I knew then that they must be my parents.
In a way, seeing them made me smile; I wanted to reach out and speak to both of them, but something held me in place. I was frozen, unable to move as they both disappeared into a nearby alleyway. Just the sight of the parents that had abandoned me had my emotions going haywire.
I didn't know what to do.
I do regret it, not being able to actually say anything to them that day. I regret not approaching them, not hugging the beings that had created me. I was afraid, afraid of the rejection that could immediately follow; they had abandoned me for a reason, after all.
I was nothing but a street rat. They looked to be rich as well, so why would they want to bring me back into their lives? My mind simply couldn't fathom living with them. While my heart was heavy, my mind was angered.
Years later, after I fell into servitude to the General, I was sent on a mission. A mission to dispose of two illegal drug dealers within the slums of Noxus. That night...
That was the night my parents died by my hand.
They were fakes; they had gained wealth through an illegal source. I refused to be related to them, and forced myself to forget about them. ...Until you brought up the subject, of course...
Everyone has something to hold onto. An item that perhaps brings forth a nostalgic memory upon seeing it. Even I have one. I do not own many items... but there is one that I take pride in holding.
You see, when life gets hard, it helps to just look upon that single item. It can imbue you with strength, enough strength to continue pushing forward. Whenever a battle grows difficult and my injuries sting, I pull this item from my pocket and caress it with my shaking fingers. The golden exterior will shine in the light, and somehow, it manages to bring a smile to my face, no matter how small and pained that smile may be.
This item that I hold is a single pocketwatch; the one the General carried with him each day, the same broken pocketwatch that was found at the scene of where he disappeared. Even if the exterior may be cracked, and the clock no longer ticks... I hold onto it for him. Mainly as a memento.
Some find it silly for me to carry a broken item around with me every single day, but it means quite a bit to me. The hands of the clock no longer tell time, and are forever locked upon 2:00PM. The same time that the watch was broken, and the General was ambushed within the market that day.
However, it's not what's on the outside of the broken pocketwatch that I care about, but rather... what is within.
Within is a memory. A memory of when I first joined the Du Couteau family, when Lady Cassiopeia and Lady Katarina were still young and unscarred by war. Even if the picture is ripped and worn, it still is a memory. A memory of when I first began to regard the General as my father.
It is not something I speak of often, as many in Noxus would call it 'weak' to develop such strong feelings for the General. I highly regard him as my General, the only one I take pride in taking orders from, however... his kind nature that is masked by his hardy exterior is one that I envy. He taught me kindness, taught me love... taught me so many things...
It is why I think of him as my father, the one I never got the chance to meet. I was never taught love, or kindness; the only thing I knew when growing up was how to survive. It's all I cared about. Until he found me.
This pocketwatch is enough to keep my going when I am knocked down. Regardless of my injuries, I will always push myself back up and continue to fight. Unless my arms and legs are broken, and unless I am rendered completely unconscious, my will to fight shall not be thrown aside.
I will keep fighting until I find him and bring him home safely. That, is my mission. I will not rest until it is completed, or until I am killed in the process of completing it.
A short diary entry. I will be keeping a log of my musings from now on, mainly to keep track of my thoughts and ideas of situations.
They say a person's mind is a powerful tool, one that condones every action of the human body. Things that are often perceived within the human mind may certainly be different from the reality of the situation, but it can cause us to act irrationally more often than not. I am not an exception to this.
I strive for power. It drives me, makes me thrive and continue on with my life. Ever since I was a small child, I desired power; it is what lead me to kill and rid myself of those around me, including the only friend that I had back then. It's odd how a simple blade can cause my blood to rush and a surge of adrenaline roll through my veins as my mind seems to lose all thought process; admittedly, it is why I sometimes lose myself on the battlefield and kill without even so much as batting an eye.
But, there is always that one person that is capable of controlling your actions and swaying you to do something else, rather than what you intended. That person is capable of bringing me back from my lust for power, and they always seem to show up at just the right moments.
Kassadin is... well, to put it bluntly, a sort of lifeline to me. He is the one that brings me out of my trances and yanks me into reality. Much like a guardian.
There is always that one person that each human has that is capable of calming them down with a few simple words. It is what the General taught me long ago. There is always someone there for you, fighting for you, and yet, sometimes you have to be the one to reach out to them.
Yet, sometimes, that person will come to you without you having to speak a word.
And when they do, everything will be okay again.
....
Perhaps that is enough writing for now. I've never been one to speak my mind, nor one to keep a diary. ...Hmph, this may prove challenging, and yet...
At least it will be a good source of information about my journey for when the General returns. That way, I can show him what I've been going through. He always told me to store all information that I have discovered, after all; even if it be senseless rambling.
