[veritaspia]

KATARINA

Diana has a tall frame, but it seems to fit perfectly against hers like the key to the lock. She rests her hands on her thighs, abandoning the laptop on her left entirely. The discovery of a Mayan temple can wait.

“What’s with you today?” she asks, but her little smile is still there, eyes matching Diana’s.

She brings her head up and kisses the tip of her chin.

Diana’s shoulders lift in a light shrug. She’s trying not to overthink this, but she thinks about everything, and she’s abandoned the thing that was distracting her. Her fingers trace the bones in Katarina’s neck, nail leaving a trail of white behind it. 

“You’re getting to me,” she finally sighs, thum tapping Katarina’s throat. Playful. “Your overly sentimental nature has finally spread.”

[veritaspia]

shout out to angel @timoriia​ who follows me with every blog of hers on every blog of mine as she makes new blogs, even when i haven’t been active in years you’re the true hero i love you <3 

[veritaspia]

KATARINA

Her eyes stare at the lines and circles strewn across the pages, and it somewhat resembles what she’s feeling now. Words, scribbles, some messy, inexplicable thing she doesn’t know how to say, only knows how to do. 

So her hand tugs the hem of Diana’s tanktop, pulling her towards her.

“Shut up, you dolt. I did it because I liked how you think.”

Katarina kisses her, and she’s smiling into her lips.

“And looked.”   

“The why didn’t matter. You know that.” 

It’s easy to shift, swing her thigh over Katarina’s and settle in her lap. It isn’t a rare affection, but it speaks volumes for the reason her stomach is twisting right now. Katarina is still a flight risk, and Diana knows better than to overwhelm her, even when outright honesty is all she wants. 

“I guess I’ll count myself lucky though.” 

Her fingers tuck under the straps of Katarina’s top, palms coming to rest on her shoulders. 

[caedispia-archived-deactivated2]

"she suits you, you know." katarina is dozing, and diana holds no shame in disturbing her. the back of her finger traces the high arch of katarina's cheekbone, counting the imperfections and trailing her thumb over the smoothness. "your face glows under the moon." there's a smile in her voice that's absent on her lips. "perhaps i will make a devout of you yet."

Her eyes struggle to keep themselves open, so she doesn’t try. Instead, her hands reach for Diana, tugging her closer to her frame to feel the muscles her fingers have memorized. There’s a rough, jagged scar on the back of her spine here, and she always seems to brush it whenever she holds her. Like Diana had survived it for Katarina to hold her here in this quiet night under the moon’s gaze.

Katarina opens one eye, her better eye, to look at Diana.

“You’re awfully sentimental tonight,” she says, lips curling into a lazy smile. 

She kisses her neck. Then her jaw. Then her cheeks, lips, all of her skin.

“But so am I.” 

[veritaspia]

KATARINA

“Thank me?”

Katarina blinks, looking up from her laptop a moment to glance at Diana. She’s clearly focused on her own thing. Whatever that thing is.  

“Thank me for what?” she asks, the corner of her lips lifting. 

“You gave me a job.” 

The words carry less weight than they should. They hang in the air and Diana presses a little harder on the page. More words, more scribbles, distracting her from the position of vulnerability she’s put herself in. It’s fine though, it’s Kat. 

“Thanks. You really helped me out.” 

[veritaspia]

@caedispia

"You know, I never really did get a chance to thank you.” 

Diana doesn’t look up. Her hands are busied, one hand holding her notebook open and the other scribbling away. Katarina wouldn’t appreciate it if she paid too much notice to a moment of affection, after all. She flips the page and continues writing, playing as though it’s more important than this conversation. 

(It helps her too.)

[caedispia-archived-deactivated2]

"will you be strong and stand with me?" (veritaspia)

Noxus valued deeds more than words, and that was the creed Katarina took upon herself from the day she was handed a blade. She heard it first from her father, learned it then from her knife. It took one slip, drawn across the body of a Demacian. She laid it down before her father and let the blood seep to the floor. Let it write her vows.

And it is what she does, when she lies before Diana, body spread on the floor like an offering on the altar.

“My strength is yours,” she says, sharing breaths with her. 

She takes her hand, presses it between her legs. She lets her mouth write oaths over her skin.

@veritaspia

[caedispia-archived-deactivated2]

ur gay

[veritaspia]

happy valentine’s day from diana and katarina. 

[veritaspia]

@caedispia made modern icons and i want to be gay so -- 

She’s watching Katarina somewhat carefully. It has been a long night; the stains on her pants and the absolute state the bar in tells the story far better than the clock that is now perpetually stuck at two fifteen am, when a punter decided he’d much rather throw his shoe at it than respect the establishment’s closing time. But all of this just stands to support her idea. 

Katarina looks, for lack of a kinder word, terrible. Tiredness dogs the hands that fiddle with a spoon, making coffee for them both, and her hair is a mess. She looks ready to drop. She also looks like she would bite the hand from anyone that spoke too loudly, so in the interests of not stressing her lover out any further, Diana waits until Katarina has taken her spot, seated next to her on the couch.

The back of her hand taps Katarina’s thigh. 

“I had an idea I’d like to run by you. For your Christmas.” 

[veritaspia]

[18:53:29] AM OAN THE PROTEIN: katarina being terrified she's gonna lose the one person outside of her family [18:53:30] AM OAN THE PROTEIN: she's ever [18:53:31] AM OAN THE PROTEIN: trusted [18:53:34] ada wong can kill me: IOJKSHDFJHKGFKJZS [18:53:34] ada wong can kill me: [GNJFK'FGDL;ML; [18:53:35] ada wong can kill me: JNY .;' '. [18:53:35] ada wong can kill me: JHBN, .JK' [18:53:35] ada wong can kill me: /JLH/ [18:53:36] ada wong can kill me: TJGY/ [18:53:36] ada wong can kill me: .'

how to kill @caedispia in one easy step

[veritaspia]

willoftheblades

     She is not one for much small talk.

     And Irelia has enough honor to let privacy trump courtesy, bestowing the gift of silence onto her companion for the majority of their ride. She seeks neither friendship nor favor, instead taking solace in knowing that she enacted the virtue of a typical human being and did not neglect a solitary wayfarer.

     Anyone in her position would do the same, wouldn’t they?

     The sky adorns a pinkish tinge with the impending arrival of dawn’s first light as Irelia brings the carriage towards the town. The Blood Moon festival attracts throngs of crowds, and in recent years the town council has stocked the gates with guards to ensure that no one jeopardizes the safety of the event.

     “They will ask us of our intent,” Irelia informs her guest. “Where do you come from, that you seek to attend the feast?”

Were Diana not so cautious, she might have fallen asleep in the silence of that carriage ride. The rhythmic rumble of the motion combined with the pleasant scents and sounds of the Ionian landscape prove a powerful soporific, but despite her exhaustion she does not close her eyes. She does peer around curiously, however, watching as the sky begins to glow and lighten, and the moon lowers far enough that she cannot see it behind clouds. Irelia’s question almost makes her start, were the voice that spoke it not so soft. 

“I come from Mount Targon.” She says, turning her attention to the driver of their carriage, and between her and the guards at the gate. Her hand flexes on her weapon. They may ask her to leave it. 

“I am of the Lunari. Our culture holds the moon in high esteem, so your festival caught my attention.” 

[veritaspia]

willoftheblades:

     As if their entire conversation had meant nothing.

     Had she misspoken, or had the traveler misheard? Irelia marvels how people have the pride to bristle at charity even at such a late hour.

     The horses pulling the wagon snort at the woman, and she pulls the reins to the other side of the road so they can walk - so to speak - side by side. From this angle Irelia catches a clearer view, where she takes note of the faint glowing coming from the woman’s curved sickle.

     Some kind of runic weapon. She is prepared to take on any strangers that may accost her. Why, then, entertain such reticence?

     Irelia clears her throat. “It was an offer to ride alongside me, not walk parallel to me.” She gestures at the step and then at the space within the wagon.

Is it tiredness that makes her more distrustful? Perhaps, but even so, Diana’s gaze travels from Irelia, to the step, to the horses. They seem calm for collared beasts, and she can at least surmise there is no level of fear. The charity, then -- something she is unused to. No-one offers something for nothing, and Diana hasn’t yet worked out what this woman wants. 

(Still. She is tired and the carriage -- with a driver who knows the way -- will be much quicker.) 

“Very well.” Diana mutters, and she turns towards the step. 

Her climb is a little awkward, hands and arms trading places in an effort to get seated with her blade at her side. It is too large to strap at her hip or remain on her back, and it ends with its point upon the floor, and her fist around its grip like an old man with a walking stick. She could lay it at their feet, but she dare not release it from her hand. 

A glance at the moon, and a further glance at Irelia precedes a quiet thanks, and Diana fixes her eyes to the road ahead. 

[veritaspia]

when your wife is hot shit [x]

[bladesurgence]

may i request moon lotus from the great ocean this time

     this prompt was from six months ago | not accepting | @veritaspia

Keep reading

[qlmondmilk]

[veritaspia]

She falls onto Diana, still clothed in gear. It only takes a minute before her eyes close, asleep and at peace.

Well, this was hardly expected. 

Diana barely had time to lift the book she had been reading, laying in bed slumped against the headboard before a flurry of red had preceded a heavy thump and suddenly she learned she was no longer alone. Katarina was asleep in mere moments, and for just one of those moments, Diana might have described it as cute. 

Until Katarina shifted, and a dagger started burrowing its way between Diana’s ribs. 

Teeth grit with pain, and she hissed quietly as hands rose, gentle in their motions to lift Katarina and wiggle the small, though brutal dagger free from the front of her lover’s jacket without hurting either of them. What an irritation, but it spoke for how tired Katarina was that she forgot such a simple thing as removing her weapons before crawling into bed. 

The dead weight atop her barely stirred as she shifted, methodically plucking free as many of the prickling blades as she could, one by one, discarding them on the carpet floor by the side of the bed (better not forget about those in the morning). The final one, digging into her hip too insistently to be ignored, proved an impossible challenge. 

“Hopeless,” she muttered to herself, pale eyes glancing back towards Katarina. 

She was not entirely vacant of compassion, but there were limits. Especially as the pain grew more and more insistent, bone itself throbbing as the hilt of the weapon pressed harder with every breath. Katarina had told her once that an abrupt motion was the least painful manner to remove sticky things from skin. Could the same principle be employed here?

(Under her breath, she apologises in advance.)