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#Swain's love language is words of conquest.
bastardsunlight · 1 year
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(June/Jericho or like, yknow, Noxus muses)
It was hard to make a prognosis at this time. They only just managed to pull her from immediate danger. June would live, for now, but for how long? And will her magic survive with her? All they knew was this: The bedridden child had saved the Immortal Bastion and all inside it from destruction, overloading her own power and absorbing a force that was dangerous and violent, the equal and opposing force causing the threat to fizzle away, and June to fall to the floor in a heap.
This was not a restful period for June, as Le Blanc filled in the blanks that her own powers would manifest, if she had the strength. That her sacrifice meant nothing, that no one was waiting for her on the other side, and without her magic, she was useless, he would discard her. It was only the inner circle of the Bastion present, watching June listlessly whisper to herself. "Nothing... nothing..." If she were in this state before, she'd be rudely awakened and thrown back into her work, she was simply waiting to be seized.
"You best put her out of her misery now, Jericho... What is she to you without her powers? Even more of a burden... Nothing. It was pathetic, her infatuation for you Darius, you should all abandon her, go back to your posts, she means nothing... She'll die how she lived, alone in a dark room, in pain, unloved, nothing to anyone..." "Nothing... Nothing..."
Swain could hear the voice, that malicious thing—she was talking to both of them, his secret agent of Guile, former lover, and maestra of Noxian upheavals, successes and all manner of shifting since its inception as a sovereign nation. He tossed his hand about to dispel her, holding June’s small fingers in his large, ruby, demonic one.
She liked that hand, he knew, so he held hers with it.
Nearby, the Hand himself stood, arms folded behind, watching with concern, brows furrowed. Outside the door, he knew his brother waited, watched, and guarded. Draven was insufferably full of himself, but even had had come to appreciate the waif mage who’d taken up residence in the Immortal Bastion. He figured he probably scared her and that was just fine; she wasn’t his type anyhow, but there was something about her that made a fellow want to be protective—like a sister, he figured, since he’d never actually had one.
“You will recover, little one,” Swain purred, “but first you must rest… let your mind be at ease.” His free hand reached down to push hair off her sweat-soaked, clammy forehead. “And when you awaken, we will create wonders… Noxus has never known power like yours and with it, she will rise to supremacy…”
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