#v; trans

[quantum-shatter-a-blog]

{ @mylxvesfxlly }

[ It wasn’t often that it rained in Zaun. When it did, it didn’t always reach Ekko and his family- shielded by canyon walls and the other layers of the city, there wasn’t much open space for the droplets to fall. However, tonight the boy perused through the Entresol level; a level higher than where he lived, and the precipitation fell against his forehead, dripping white paint down his cheeks. ]

                    “Great.”

[ His mumble was barely heard among the bustling pathways of the city, business owners scrambling to close their shops in light of the impeding thunderstorm. Dusk was setting in soon, anyways; nobody stayed out too long past sunset in Zaun. It was dangerous. Everyone knew this- it was international knowledge, Ekko assumed. Even residents didn’t risk it. Well... except for a select few. Namely those who didn’t have anywhere to go, or those who had a thirst for danger (namely Ekko).

The boy started his path home. Or, at least, to a good shelter. Many people had already left the streets, taken shelter. The few left were like him, hugging their sides as the sheets of rain hit them, scurrying elsewhere for cover. However, one remaining person caught his eye; someone his age... and it didn’t seem like they were going anywhere, anytime soon. Ekko frowned slightly and approached them; it couldn’t possibly do harm, after all. ]

                    “Hey.”

[ He raised his voice slightly over the sound of thunder overhead and stopped in front, glancing around warily and using one hand to push his whitened hair away from his face, where it stuck to the back of his neck. ]

                    “You should really get out of here, it’s getting dark.”

[quantum-shatter-a-blog]

L O S S

[ The shallow breaths of a boy in distress were the only sound in the abandoned hallway, his footsteps dragging against the worn metal floors with the pace of a body bogged down.

Slung over one shoulder was the form of another boy, smaller, limper, clearly unconscious. Ekko had his arms hugged tightly around the body of his friend, and his heart beat harshly against his ribs, exhaustion threatening to make his legs collapse into jelly.

But he kept going, he knew that he had to. It was only fair. He couldn't save the other boy, the least he could do was bring him home.

Stumbling into the entrance of the dusty building, Ekko shouldered the door open and let out a held breath, the noise coming out in a harsh wheeze, chemicals of Zaun escaping his lungs as fire in his throat.

It took him a while to settle the corpse on the crumbling countertop, peeling off his jacket and carefully resting it beneath the child's head as if he could still feel it, as if he could still thank Ekko for what he'd done. He couldn't.

Turning his head sharply at a shuffling noise behind him, the child's shoulders sunk as he saw Jinx, not having expected anyone else to be here, so late. ]

"Oh.. hi, uh... hi, Blue."

[ His eyes were blank, the tiredness plain on his face, and he carelessly pushed a hand back through his hair, shoving it out of the way amongst sweat and grime. His night had been much longer than anyone else would have seen. Over ninety times he'd tried to save Ajuani, all to no avail. The physical strain meant nothing to him when his chest felt heavy enough to explode.

His lip trembled and he swallowed harshly, swiping his fist against his eyes īroughly as he struggled not to cry, not in front of Jinx, at least; she'd always been his role model, and he wasn't about to look weak, not now. ]

"I... Ajuani's..."

[ Ekko's eyes can't stay on Jinx, and he instead looks at the floor, breaths threatening to shake his chest. Guilt eats at his gut from the inside out, and suddenly, he wants nothing more than an infinite nap. He leaned back against the counter, fingertips resting gently against the shoe of his best friend, and his exhaustion set in. He covered his eyes with one hand, hitting himself on the forehead a little too hard, and he started to cry. ]

{ @zaunite-daredevil }

[quantum-shatter-a-blog]

plotting call !

lms to plot. yo it can be in any verse besides modern (i haven’t planned out that shit yet). this includes ,, the normal one; trans; young; corrupted; project. hmu !! like this and i’ll message you because i have a shortage of threads atm.

(( i have over 60 tracked but that’s not the point i need constant mental stimuli ok ))

[finrxd-archive]

"The water's fine!" //oh my god I need to stop sending you things

Finrod turned at the sound of Thranduil's voice, he'd taken a late night stroll through the royal gardens, enjoying the moonlight and the slight chill in the air. He stepped off the path and toward the voice. "M'lord?" He asked, walking under an archway of ivy covered trees to find Thranduil submerged in a hotspring.

He felt heat rise up on his face and he looked anywhere but at Thranduil. "I-I apologies for interrupting you M'lord... but may I stay?" He asked, seeing trendils of steam rising up from the water and suddenly wanting to be surrounded by the warmth from both sources before him.

[finrxd-archive]

It was a quick, clean slice deep across Finrod's shoulder and down across his collarbone. He didn't even feel it, too busy disarming the second opponent in the sparring ring. It was when both of the other elves were on the ground, weapons kicked across the ring, when the sudden burning pain brought him to one knee.

Others leapt to his aid, helping him up and out of the ring. Hands on his ribs made Finrod recoil and push the others away, insisting he was okay and "Don't touch me, I am fine". He pulled his wounded arm close , snapping at anyone who touched him as he walked as calmly as possible to the healer's hall. Blood soaked into his cream tunic as he walked, leaving a large red-brown patch across his upper chest by the time he arrived.

A handful of healers attempted to get him to sit and take his torn and bloodied tunic off. He fought that even more than he had those who touched him. Insisting he could stitch and clean himself up if given the supplies, or something out of the main hall, anything but the main hall. 

It was one of the oldest healers, the overseer of the hall in position if not title who made the connection and ushered the others away and Finrod into a side room the one set aside for use by the royal family, insisting that no one would see in there or dare look.

Finrod pulled his tunic off over his head and the odd layer underneith. "As I thought." The healer commented, saying nothing else merely beginning to clean up and sew Finrod's wounds as he pulled a sheet from the bed up around as much of his torso as he could. It covered skin but not shape as he anxiously looked towards the door, fully expecting someone to come walking in, be it on accident or on purpose.

[ t-hran-d-uil ]