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@the-beastmother
hello! please like or reblog if you’re interested in interacting with the mother of sett the boss from league of legends. partial OC, partial canon / independent & semi-selective / written by quynh anh!
former daughter of the omulüko vastaya; once-lover, blood-traitor, proud brewmaster and prouder mother.
but please— call me senri.
“I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what Spring does with the cherry trees.”
— Pablo Neruda (via lesgardenias)
"Look look look!! The Gatekeeper gave me a cute outfit!!!"
Áo tấc. Credit to Ngô Thị Mỹ Linh
love is stored in the found family trope
“…my love’s a fire, an altar, an ember. I turn into smoke.”
— Adonis, from ‘Transformations of the Lover’, The Pages of Day and Night (trans. Samuel Hazo)
@the-beastmother continued~
Bite. Devour. Feed. Yone’s heart beat wildly in his chest, his entire being filled with exhilaration. Anticipation. He just knew that everything would be right if he just bit down. No more fear. No more uncertainty. Even now he could feel something filling him. Like taking a long drink after too long in the sun. It would be so easy, too. Just lean forward, ignore the claws gouging at his skin. Instinct told him that those wouldn’t matter just as soon as he fed. He felt the heat of a living body mere millimeters from his mouth. Relief was so close it ached.
‘Just bite down.’
Then agony. A flash of light blinded him and it took a moment for the pain to register. He screeched, trying to throw himself back from the burning. The beach echoed with the inhuman sound - a predator caught in a trap. Senri’s grip was vice-like. Flee. Get away. Get away. His prey was more dangerous than he thought. Rip her apart! Stop her! Stop the pain!
Yone clawed at her hands, screaming wordlessly at her. His voice echoed something higher, some shrieking thing. It was wrong. Yone froze, agony and realization locking him in place. ‘What am I doing?’ Horror stole his breath as he stared at the woman who had been nothing but kind. Senri was bloodied and terrified beneath him. His hands were tipped in disgusting claws, dripping with her blood. Blood he had shed. He shuddered, shame burning in his gut, tenfold more than before. He locked eyes with her. She had so much fear and rage and betrayal in her eyes, highlighted even more by the flames she wielded.
He forced his muscles to go lax. He deserved this. She deserved to be able to incinerate him. Part of him almost relaxed at the decision. He would not fight her if she shoved him.
The scream he let out was a truly monstrous sound. The fire in her hands (in her soul) scorched pure and searing, and within seconds she registered an acrid stench, like gauze burning, and felt layers of overlapping bandages crackle and peel into ash underhand. She sobbed tearlessly when she smelled the start of his skin burning. She hadn’t wanted this. She hadn’t. Beneath that stench lay a whiff of salt and metal, which belatedly she realized with a jolt was her own blood. Oh. From his claws. Then, as if noticing them had been the catalyst, they tore from her skin and she flinched. He screamed and screamed and screamed.
Oh, spirits. The sound buzzed in her ears like hornets, until she genuinely felt sick to her stomach. It was so awful. Part of Senri — one that remembered the dark, cautionary tales written on her tribe’s story-stones — huddled into a ball, fought back a wail. But the greater part grit her fangs and struggled to hold on when Yone began to tear at her hands instead, trying to rip open her stubborn grip on his wrists. Stop, stop, she shouted silently. I don’t want to burn you. I don’t want to have to kill you. Please stop! Stop!
And then, out of nowhere, he froze.
He looked down at her — so close now that she could see his face in starkest relief thus far; scarred cheek, red eye and (oh) an expression of horror and recognition, blooming beneath the mask — and he stopped.
He stopped.
And immediately, her fire went out as she extinguished the blue flames in a burst, yanked her hands back and kicked out from under him, scrabbling her claws through the sand in a frenzy to get away. Senri didn’t pause until she’d gotten a good six feet between them. She surged onto her feet and then just. Stood there. Panting; staring him down. Dimly, she had the half-hysterical thought that they must make quite the sight now, the two of them on this beach. Her: with sand in her face, and bright blotches of blood seeping through her robe at the shoulders. Yone: hunched between her and the campfire, so that the dull orange light backlit him into a crouched and terrifying shadow. Flickers of her fire still burned on him, eating through the bandages at his wrists. Dimly, she hoped he’d heal all right.
But fiercer than that, wilder than that — her anger came rushing back anew, until Senri buried her face in her hands and breathed out, hard.
Because if she didn’t, she was going to start screaming instead.
“You’re as close as the heart I call my own.”
— Anna Akhmatova, tr. by Judith Hemschemeyer, from “I Called Death Down,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
@the-beastmother continued
Finally, finally, Yone’s body accepted that he had purged all he could. He trembled from the sudden exhaustion and hunger that dragged at him. He didn’t know what was wrong or even how to start addressing the issue. All he could think of was that hunger. The more he focused on it, the more all-encompassing it seemed. His mouth watered at a sudden, new smell. Something he’d never smelled before but so much more appealing than anything he’d come across since his resurrection.
Unbeknownst to the hunter, as he lost himself in his senses, his body was changing. His nails were curving into claws, digging deeper into the sand. His mask grew sharper, jagged edges beginning to dig and merge into his skin. The curving horns grew more jagged as well, lending him a more monstrous silhouette. And all the while, his mind was solely focused on his hunger and that amazing smell that promised to sate it.
He whipped around, suddenly standing to full height before Senri. His eyes glowed a menacing red as he bared his teeth. She was the source of that smell. His body moved before he thought to, lunging at the woman and sending them both tumbling into the sand. He pinned her, claws digging furrows into her shoulders. She had something that would soothe his hunger. He needed whatever it was! He just had to figure out what it was. A voice, something buried deep in his psyche, urged him to bite down. To devour. His jagged maw glinted in the fire light as he went to do just that.
He was shaking. And he hadn’t responded to her at all. That...couldn’t be good. Senri swallowed hard — her mouth gone abruptly dry — and dug her claws into the skin of her palms. What was this growing chill? This sensation in the air, creeping like frost over her skin? Every nerve in Senri, every ounce of magic cried for her to flee. But a whisper in the back of her mind kept saying: You can’t just leave him. Remembering the polite quiet of his voice. Before... before.
“Yone,” she thus said again, firmer. (Tenser.) “I don’t... I don’t know what’s happening. But if you need help, I can try to—”
He stood then. So sudden was his movement that he nearly crashed into Senri, and she staggered a step away with a gasp. But oh. Had he been so tall this whole time? Fear burst through her then, a spark that shot heat up her throat to hiss in her nostrils and between her teeth, as the firelight illuminated his head turning towards her, long hair wild and his horns (horns on the mask, on that blood-red mask) looming sharp, arched and wicked. His arms were too long. His eyes glinted too bright. Through the darkness, Senri’s eyes still perceived the too-white glint of his teeth. He bared them, flat and blunt. Like an animal.
“No.” Her voice trembled. She stumbled back another step and shouted, “No—!”
A blur: and then his full weight slammed into her. Both of them were flung into the ground, hard. The impact cracked across her shoulder blades, threw up sand and blasted air from her lungs and set her bones shuddering, until they refused to stop at all.
“YONE!”
Senri shrieked a half-terrified, half-angry noise and flung up her hands. One she dug into the face that hovered over hers, claws scratching across the hard, cold material of his mask; the other she shoved against the soft skin of his throat, trying to hold him back. It thudded against her palm a wild rhythm. As if frightened, or deeply excited.
“Yone, please! Don’t do this! STOP!”
He’s going to kill me, a tinny voice screamed within her ringing head. He is something, or has something inside him, that’s going to rip me apart and I’m never going to go home. I won’t go home, I won’t go home, my son won’t ever see me again won’t ever know what happened no no NO NO NO—
Fury, then. She couldn’t, she couldn’t die here! She tore ineffectually at his mask, which felt harder than diamond under her sharp nails. His claws pierced like scythes through her shoulders and she hissed in pain. She couldn’t move him. Then she saw teeth, saw the red of his open mouth, and in an explosion of rage and terror alike, Senri tore her hands from his face (from that accursed mask) and had just one moment to cry out, “I’m sorry!”
Then she seized his wrists, and set her own hands on bright, sea-blue fire.
“There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.”
— Lemony Snicket
hey y’all! now here’s a muse that i’ve just been dying to write for a while now. please like or reblog if you’re interested in interacting with kindred from league of legends. semi-divergent canon / independent & semi-selective / written by quynh anh!
we have many faces— MANY MOUTHS! —and many names. HEAR THEM AND COWER! but which do they know?
which will they call… …WHEN THEY END?
are you haunted by demons both physical and emotional? do you want an emotional support resurrected samurai? then give this post a like or reblog if you’d be interested in interacting! this is an independent, private, and selective blog for yone from league of legends written by adrian.
There is a part of Senri that longs to be lost. You could call it wanderlust; she calls it an old habit dying hard — a remnant of her nomadic lifestyle, back when she was still with her tribe. Senri doesn’t enjoy staying in one place for long. So, every so often, she’ll hoist a pack onto her back, kiss her son see you later, and then set off on a miniature pilgrimage. Nowhere too far, of course. Her trips rarely take longer than a few days’ travel, because she does worry about things back home and likes to be able to hurry back if needed. Most of the time, she’ll just journey to the seaside or to the nearest mountain. What she does there, she doesn’t say. But she always returns seeming more at peace with herself.
Maybe Senri fell in love with her Noxian soldier/husband for this same reason. She likes to get lost. She likes to roam, discover new things, meet strange new people and places. And perhaps no one was stranger and newer than the Noxian man who fell for her right back. They were captivated by each other’s strangeness. To Senri, her lover was as foreign to her for his war-centered mindset and brutal upbringing as for his actual birthplace. And she wanted to dive into that. She wanted to be confused, angered, and baffled by why he was the way he was — and yet love him anyways, despite all that. Though on opposite sides of the conflict, they wanted and were willing to give this a shot, to explore one another, until no place was left unturned and unloved.
Senri supposes that her lover just thought there was nowhere else in her left to re-find. Or that other places awaited him, ones that he believed could prove better. A very small part of her hopes that he’s found what he’s looking for, for his own sake, if not her own.
“I want to go to the mountains, I want to go to the sea, I want to go to a place where no one knows me, I want to be lost among people who speak a language I don’t understand at all.”
— Takuboku Ishikawa, from “Romaji Diary & Sad Toys,” published c. 1985
Cheeky foxes frolicking in an eggplant field under crescent moon (super unusual motif for this antique kimono seen on)
Mar. 21, 2018 abnormal snow on cherry blossom in Tokyo
