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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

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//The first P-P-P-P-Public Transport Drabble in a while, I think? Needed to purge the dumb creative writing assignment from uni from my system with some Yi Parent fluff. Nothing better than writing about two dead ass people, amirite?

Something something spending all that time hunting Jhin makes a Wuju Master a sappy boy, especially when you see so many families get fricked off while you’re away from your own. Sad wife also, because the other side of the equation is complicated too.

Dearest and Most Esteemed Mystic,

I write to you in the hopes that this letter finds you in the best of health. Better health, hopefully, than caring for me with your ceaseless devotion would have you in. Zhyun weather treats us all well, but the demon of the lands terrorizes the people still. I dare not to recount the things I’ve seen in my wandering, but let it be known that I am reminded every day of you, our own family, and the safety and sanctity we enjoy where others do not. Though we take no part in active investigation anymore, we at least hope our coordinated efforts with the Kinkou shall end these predations soon.

But to you, my wife, I say with certainty: Not a day goes by that I don’t see a flower, tree, bird in the sky, or even the aesthetic dance of shadow that doesn’t remind me of your boundless beauty, grace, and every redeeming quality I’ve been in awe of for the last forty years of my life. None of these compare to that which you encapsulate of course, and you might even think me senile if I see you in all places like I do. But, I suppose, I simply miss you, Huan. I’m refreshed by the chance to travel, but it’s nothing but a chore without you by my side. I’ve been pressing flowers, as the land allows, so I hope these will bring some of this adventure back to you.

I’m composing a play, in fact, about this entire ordeal. Writing things down when my Master isn’t around to chide me. Nothing of the blood and sorrow of these lands selfishly, but of a demon who sought to keep loves apart, and who thwarts his letters with ill thoughts. I’ll have your name remembered somehow, Huan. I’d weep if it went unrecorded to history like so many other wives of Wuju Masters. Hopefully, when I return, you’ll like it enough to watch me put drum beats and dance steps to the story?

With a heavy heart though, I must close this letter, for I only have so much parchment with which to write. I know you much prefer these trinkets than the personal ways we have always communicated at distance, so keep this well if you so desire. Burn it otherwise. Do whatever it is that makes you feel better. I look forward always to the day which I return to your side.

Always, and always,

Yi Chao

Always, and always.

That was, funnily enough, how he always signed his letters. Always with some reaffirmation of their life long bond, and then the always, and always. It made her giddy, in a teenage lover sort of fashion. Even if most would call her elderly, his words had their way of resting upon her heart and revitalizing her spirit. She hugged the ragged letter close to her chest, hoping the words would imprint on her forevermore. Though as if the writing was tactile to her, her fingers on the back face of the parchment noted a discrepancy in texture. When she turned the pages over, her brow raised as she scanned what appeared to be odd notation. Something she thought she should recognise, yet the meaning escaped her.

“Chao, your ways astound me, at times.” She remarked to herself, not braced for a reply,

“They astound me too, if I’m honest.” A gasp left her before her cordial nature could suppress it, and she recoiled from the source a moment before she could take the man in properly. In all her reading, she hadn’t felt illusion sweep her away,

“Chao!”

“Good evening, Wushi Mu.” He offered with the slightest smile, a warm expression that only grew when she leapt for him with arms out wide. Though there was a fantastical quality to his visage -- he felt more like a plush toy than a man of flesh and magical prowess -- she took him in her embrace all the same.

“This isn’t fair, Chao.” She whined into his chest, “I’ve told you, don’t use your telepathy unannounced. It’ll make me cry.”

“I’m sorry.” He laughed, of all things, “I just had a twinge in my mind. I felt it across Ionia. You were reading a letter of mine and feeling sad. I couldn’t help myself.”

“And I can’t help myself either, Wushi Fu.” Finally, Huan rose from the depths of her embrace, looking up to the man and his forever creased featured, hoping he didn’t notice the new wrinkles on her own, “You write me such niceties, and they both satiate my heart and hollow it. I’ll miss you so long as you’re gone. It can’t be helped.”

“Soon, I’m hoping...” He took in a deep breath, though never seemed to sigh it out again, “If we don’t resolve the matter soon, there won’t be any more people left in Zhyun to slaughter. It becomes more uncomfortable the less we’re able to help, though the Kinkou and their students seem sympathetic to our efforts as they become more exposed to the things we’ve been dealing with for years.”

“Years...” The word just came out, like a silent prayer to the Stars and All that another year wouldn’t pass her by alone. In her mind as he was, his expression saddened with hers, the weight of loneliness threatening to crush them both.

“Soon, Huan. I promise.” Chao said it, but the reality of how unsure he was echoed within their private quarters, “I’m trying my hardest.”

“Saving lives...”

“Yes...”

In equal parts remorse and sympathy, they stood there a time in the comfort of each other’s arms. How selfish she felt, that she wanted for more than just this. Most weren’t so lucky to be magically inclined, and fewer to be so gifted from birth. The fact she could hold him at all, even in her mind, should have been enough.

Yet it was never enough. How selfish she was.

“Oh, I must ask.” Words came back to her in time, and she elected to make them the most passing of conversation, “What is this notation on the back of your most recent letter? Should it be something I can understand?” His brow quirked a moment, but in time it morphed to realization, then another rare smile.

“I must have forgotten and written on some parchment I was using. It’s music. A composition I’d been working on, for my cover. Let me go a moment.” She complied, reluctantly, and he spirited away from her with the grace of a half step. The Wuju Master stood apart from her, heels together, and with the flourish of an invisible veil his clothes morphed before her eyes. From the robes of a Master, to the patchwork furs of some traveller. There were colourful patches and adornments in his poncho here or there, with bells and beads to accent, and even the odd accents of face paint to his person. Most interestingly though, was the long necked, stringed instrument that lay slung over his shoulder, like nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Master and I travel as a pair, regrettably.” Chao began, retrieving the instrument just as it came to her mind, the bow of the thing resting in his other hand, “But he was receptive enough to ensure that, when in cover, we travel as a bardic pair. It at least brings some joy to people as the Demon lurks, and it’s given me the chance to pick up this.” He drew the bow across it idly then, with earthly deep sounds filling the wooden space, “I didn’t think I’d have much interest in stringed instruments, and I’m not sure I do now. But it was all the Zhyunian council could lend to me, so I’ve been composing instead of sleeping, as of late.”

“I’m happy for you!” She proclaimed, palms clasped, “Despite the circumstance, I’m happy you can do something creative with yourself.”

“And my Master only protests in the slightest.” The smile, this time, was a gorgeous thing to see. Any smile when talking of his father was a blessing, “But all this talk of me. I’m not partial to it. I want to hear of what you’ve been up to. Of how our children’s families fare… and how much our son squanders our influence while I’m not there to scold him.”

“These things can wait until my letter arrives in your fingertips.” Huan replied, tapping her nose with a finger and drawing closer again, “Right now I have you in front of me, with all your embellishments, and a piece of music no less.” She waved the parchment before him, notation his way, “You can’t expect me not to ask you to play?”

“I’m not very good, you know.” Chao retorted, though she immediately shook her head,

“Nonsense.”

“I play if only to supplement my story telling. I merely hope that people listen to the story more than the music.”

“Then tell me a story. Please, Chao.” She retreated to her lonely sleeping mat, sitting upon it astutely. His brow quirked in a particular way, but she just sat there waiting.

“Huan…” He offered in time, before he shook his head, “You’ll not rest until I’ve made an embarrassment of myself.”

“It’s just you, and me, and that strange instrument of yours, Poet. There is plenty we could do or say, but I just want to see you play.”

“Is it you who is the poet, or is it I?” They both shared in a laugh, but with no other place to go all the man could do was sit and play.

And what did he have to worry about? This wasn’t real. All of this was an illusion brought forth in her mind by his magic. If he so wished, ever note could have been one sent by the Stars, so divine that she would never hear another one better until he drew the bow back again. But he was honest with her, and for that she enjoyed the music so much more. There were mistakes, and notes where his fingers didn’t quite hit the mark of where the note should lie, but the fact it was him made it special. He told not much of a story in the end, just content in focusing on how his hands manipulated the two strings.

She could have let him go on with the sliding tones and deep, chaotic rhythms of the strange thing that looked only like a bowl with strings attached, but such wasn’t meant to be. Even he, with his eyes closed and rocking motions entranced by the sound, seemed content to continue until an interruption stayed him. Movement caught Huan’s eye, right in her peripherals, of a flourishing doorway curtain.

“Mother, Father…” Groaned a young woman, eyes heavy with the time of night and an infant protesting under her robes, “It’s good to see you, and to hear you, but if you’re going to do things like this, please be considerate for your children that are just as sensitive to your mind games as Mama.”

“Er… Good evening, Feng.” Said the man, stopping dead in his melodies,

“Good evening…” She grumbled, “Please do things like this when mothers with babies don’t have to sleep?”

“I’ll be more particular with my mentalism next time. I’m sorry.”

With that, she grumbled off, baby still babbling unawares at her breast. The parents merely exchanged glances for a time, before both of them summoned a grin.

“What a beautiful family we have.” He commented on a mumble, leaving his instrument on the floor.

“Careful. Such compliments might keep people up at night.” Huan chuckled.

“I hope they do, in part.” He replied, “It’s not often I’m of a mind to give compliments… but perhaps I must keep the recital for the rare moment I have time during the day?”

“Just hold me, before you go, Chao?”

And he did, this time with more weight behind his skin. The man might as well have been there as she held his image as tight as she could. Yet with a kiss to her forehead, her grip slowly became filled with just air. Quietly, he and his sounds, his music, and peculiarities, faded away, and all she had left of him was the parchment penned in his hand. She hugged it, then, harder than she knew she was able. Hoping that, as he returned to his own consciousness, he’d feel her embrace all away across Ionia. Damn the Demons, and damn the politics.

All she wanted was her family to be whole again…

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#P-P-P-P-PUBLIIIC DRAAABBLES #I'm queueing drafts now too so don't be surprised if I'm here and they don't go out until later #just want to pace myself <3 #I forget how much I enjoy Yi's parents #just because their characters are made interesting because of all le dramas #that caused wuju to be in decline #which then caused it to be weak enough to be bombed to shit #just let them have their moments in the past pffft

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yi-dashi · 4 years

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//also tags dump from my archive, if I ever decide to use them

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

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//P-P-P-P-Public transport drabbles, this time inspired by an anon calling one of Yi’s students a ‘total queen,’ which I am still laughing about and as such am gonna keep that ask.

But then I wrote some sads which feel incomplete, but I really don’t have time to write too much when I have an essay due in three days. In other words, this is just what I accomplished in 2 hours while I sat on the bus, and tried to browse tumblr safely while old people looked over my shoulder >.<

Call it some writing stretches before the writing exercise that is actual uni work. Love ya faces, fam.

Whispers had only ever been spoken of the ultimate threat to their survival. The concept of Alcymists seemed so distant, like the fairy-tale that the land itself was trying to fight this war for him. So it seemed like a magical tale then, to be feeling the sickening poisons sludge through his veins, and to try with all the mana in him to stop the approach to his brain.

“If you stop fighting it, you die.” The healers said, over and over until he wished to retch, “Once it’s in an open wound, you die if you don’t fight.” Yi dared not listen to the other options in his situation. He was quite fond of his arm and his leg, and he’d fight with all his energy to keep them.

Yet it all felt so selfish, somehow. His meditation ran deep. Deep enough that things externally seemed to bleed away from his memory. There wasn’t just him in the medicine tent. Rows of the dead left the air with a tinge of rot, and the Wuju Practitioner feared that to be the last thing he’d ever smell. Most of them had lost their fight without a pause in his meditations for him to say goodbye. Even with their faces covered by bloodied sheets, however, he knew every single one.

It was deeply frightening – the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced – to see how the beautiful people he’d raised since their youngest years could just be robbed from him, in one rally of fire. How frightening it was to know his own teachings hadn’t been enough for them.

Yi wasn’t even sure who still had breaths in them after a few days of hiding away, so when a soul stirred from their bedding he dispelled squawking medics from his side. Though his vision had failed some since the war had started, he still recognized the tall poise of the student with deep lilac hair. He’d grown some of the purple scruff out on his face too, which drew the first smile of the ordeal from Yi when his proud tones droned out,

“Surely in… in your incompetence, at least one of you has a razor and some soap?” Any healers in the vicinity seemed to blink amongst themselves, as if his words were a spell that stunned them, “Do you hear me? Razor. Water. Soap. By the Stars, we’re in N-Navori and you don’t understand your own tongue?”

A woman, eventually, obliged his request, though Yi watched on with some relief as his student regarded her with a bravado that meant the poisons hadn’t reached his brain yet, “Thank you! For all of our services… you would think you’d treat us better.”

“You should focus on resting…” She said, but even against the blue, bulging veins that spider-webbed across his natural pallor, he challenged her,

“Resting is for those who won’t have an eternity to do it soon. Now, for someone with such ghoulish features like you, lady dearest, you must keep some pastels, paints, and powders with you somewhere?”

“Wh… What?”

“You’re ugly. Where is your makeup?”

“If someone has some paints.” Yi finally interjected, rising to his feet as daggers shot up his spine, “Please, just give them to him. He’s a spoiled brat who will cry until he gets what he wants.”

“Master…” Immediately the man, barely in his twenties, seemed to crumble, even if only in subtle ways.

“Wei…” With barely a blanket keeping him decent, Yi lurched over to the man, shrugging off any protests as he crossed the woefully small gap, “… Of course you would survive. Too stubborn to die.” Wei laughed, though the thing was accented by a palpable fear that made Yi immediately want to give up and cry, “Don’t make enemies of those keeping you alive, is my lesson of today though.”

He slumped by the Wuju student, taking all the care he could muster not to sit on whoever lay motionless beside him. Faced with the gaze of his Master for a close, personal moment, he took a breath and steeled his expression. Up close, it was hard to imagine where he got the energy from to be defiant. His entire back looked about ready to fall away against the poisons in him, yet he still held himself tall.

“I-I hate facial hair.” He remarked as he set about making use of that which had been provided to him, “Disgusting, untameable, eyesores. Every last hair. Culture be damned, I’m not about to be buried with a beard.”

“That is fair…” Yi replied, even if the thought was another dagger among the hundreds still slicing through him, “Though it is as I’ve said: You’re too stubborn to die. I would not start thinking about what you want to look like… dead.”

“Oh, this is just precautionary.” He scoffed, even if it were more a contained cough, “I’d hate the Farya and Wolyo to think me unsightly if I end up in the ground. Being fetching, even to the Kindred, seems like the only thing I can work towards right now.” Wei’s hands were absolutely wrought by tremors, so it was no wonder that, after a while, he managed to nick himself with his blade. Unsurprisingly, however, he only shed but a blob of his tar-like blood, “Speaking of, surely someone at least has some paints around from better days? Please…” The last word rung with no authority. Instead, it just sounded like resignation.

“Wei, maybe you should—”

“—I’m not about to die while looking a broken mess! Stars’ be Damned, I just want to paint my lips…”

Fear was such a powerfully sickening emotion. How Yi wished it wasn’t a pain filled ordeal to reach out and embrace the man, for both parties.

“… I’m going to die.” Wei mumbled eventually, energy bleeding from his words faster than any nicks or cuts did, “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Meditation, Wei.” Yi offered as attempted comfort, but the man simply let his sweat drenched wefts of hair fall about his face as he lowered his gaze,

“I don’t have any more energy in me to try.”

“Da-Wei, please.”

“Just sit with me a time, Master.” Wei smiled, sadly, “Because I’ll start crying otherwise, and By the Stars I won’t be able to get a thimble of paint to stick to my face then.”

#P-P-P-P-PUBLIIIC DRAAABBLES #thats my tag now for this I guess #call it a draft more like lol #WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#Its like #out of all the Wuju student posts I've done there's always one that I focus on more than the others #I've drabbled about Shu and De and Luo and Ren #now there is Wei lol

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

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Some days were easier than others.

Though he preached to all the merits of a calm and peaceful mind, his rarely sought to cooperate. He’d grown skilled at being a mouthpiece for Wuju, yet its teachings could do little in the times where everything seemed so alien. When every pebble under foot seemed like some sort of conspiracy, or the thought that around every corner there might be something terrible. Every unknown seemed deliberate, and every inconvenience an attack against his paranoia, even if he felt like he knew better.

‘You don’t know better, Hui.’ Always his worries spoke soothing feminine tones, barely recognizable as speech yet easily interpreted by the Zaunite Alchymy in his brain’s blood.

“Shh...” He soothed himself, though even in that he felt as if he drew passerby’s unwanted attention, “|It’s okay.|”

‘You know nothing. Hui, you don’t know anything.’

“It is going to be okay...”

‘You could die at any moment, and you could die without knowing why.’

Though how true that was. Life was uncertain by its very nature, and death was assured at one point or another.

‘Someone could kill someone at any moment, and it would be your fault. Someone could die right now, Hui, and it would be your fault. What of your plans? Hui! Where are your plans?’

“I am okay.” He said regardless, his outward mumbling stealing some more second glances. Deep breaths, in and out, accented his quiet proclamations, and he kept his head held high. Words muttered in his head, yet he elected to not commit their meaning to memory. Perhaps this was one of the easy days then. Sometimes the doubt could be fought back if only he tried hard enough. He could feel the sludge of rotting memories being dredged up for no particular reason, but his almost meditative chanting ensured they drowned again. Back to the depths, held under the brackish surface by his continued assurances.

“You are just fine, Yi. You just need to buy bread, then go home...”

But who was to say how tomorrow would pan out? He supposed it was easier to think about today...

#something smol #call this a warm up #I'm trying my darndest #I want to queue all my drafts by today #WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#haven't put anything in that tag in a month #not that this is a lengthy drabble or even much of anything at all #but yeah #just warming my brain up to writing again <3'

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

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//This is kind of a non-drabble of a drabble. Half written as a stream of consciousness, and inspired by recent thoughts about Yi’s grandpapa. The theme is: I do a poor job of making him sympathetic. Iunno. Take it as it is.

A Day in the Life of Yi Heng.docx

His father had wasted somewhat over the years. His bones were not yet chalk, for the mountain chill ensured his skin would still cling to his form, but it was as if the slightest breath would turn the once proud Wuju Master to dust. Heng risked it however, for he felt true comfort in thumbing the man’s still proud robes as they draped off his burial slab. He liked to softly caress his cheek bones too, for he still remembered how distinguished they were when they had healthy flesh upon them. It was a shame his eyes had sunken away by now, for he used to like to look in those as well.

It must have been two centuries since his father had passed, yet he still remembered the day he placed the man upon this slab.

But “Yi Wushi?” someone called, and immediately he felt his soul be doused by a torrent of grim realization. Suddenly he was all too aware of the openly broken bones he lay hands on, and the sound of a body thudding to the ground from height made him tear his gaze away. Even if the sound imagined, these things marked the end of his visits, “I have a hunt. I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”

“I’m coming.” He called back, and his own robes, mirrors of the deceased at least in style, billowed about himself as he turned on his heels, “… Hopefully today, Master.”

The catacombs had a well walked track throughout their halls, carved, no doubt, as the creator of the place heaved excess stones out and away. Glowmoss lit his path up hand sahped steps, and even in it’s absence showed him where his own digging efforts had taken place. Rocks were hardy, but his stone tools, perseverance, and able-bodied students were hardier. All their efforts would be repaid when they got to rest here, after all.

Up and down, twisting around. Voices carried much faster than steps in this place. Perhaps that was why whosoever had inhabited this mausolea over the millennia decided to inscribe the walls with deep set carvings and written works. Cleverly, some of the wall tales made sense walking both ways, though he had long since grown disinterested in them as an art form. Instead he liked to mindlessly run some fingers along the carvings as he walked, as if somehow the sensation would translate their meaning for him. He’d been doing it for so long that the wall had notably smoothed over time.

Eventually however the caverns opened into a great hall, carved to Wuju specifications. Seldom stone pillar -- that had amazingly been carved and not placed there after the fact -- sometimes got in the way of training, but they also stopped the mountain from collapsing on their head. Today it seemed no training was going on though. Instead, contrasting the dark, cold stone with it’s red life’s essence, the corpse of some goat like creature lay upon the floor.

“Da-Kahd?” His tones were distant; to anyone who heard him and to himself. Stern. Authoritative even in a single word, “What is it?”

“I don’t know, Master.” The man’s tone was equally as stern, though he had an astutely learned quality to his voice. Just as he demanded of his own, “But it is meat, a lot of meat, and it should feed us until Da-Shei returns with supplies. I’m happy I was even able to slay it. Once again, I hope we all feed well from it.”

“Meat? You don’t know what it is? What if it is toxic?”

“I—”

“--And I am not impressed.” Was how Heng chose to say, ‘Well done,’ “You should be able to identify your hunts. I am sorely disappointed, but prepare it anyway. I will decide if it is to my satisfaction when the three of you eat it.”

“I… Yes Master…”

“Da-Zhy! Da-Izu!” He summoned them with a bellow that reverberated with such satisfying tones, and the man tending to the meat knew better than to flinch. Two other men ascended from the crypts, and though urgency was apparent in their eyes their steps were locked in rhythmic sequence. As they presented themselves to him, he chose to turn towards an ornately carved slab on the northernmost face of the hall. He ascended the thing without any care for the men who waited for his command, even taking his time to sit before them upon the raised rock. They had to wait until his back was appropriately arched before they could bow before him.

“Yes Master?” They both said in tandem, to which he idly waved a hand towards the carcass,

“Prepare that meat.”

“Yes Master…”

And so they did. Meticulously under his silent vigil, they disembowel the animal. Though this place wasn’t meant to be sullied with waste such as this, he’d allow it so long as he watched them clean it afterwards. Children surely only became useful once they reached eighty or so. That was something this time in ‘exile’ had taught him.

Gradually, in a gratifying way, cuts of meat were presented before him like offerings, and the three men with their bloodied hands came to prostrate before him when they were through. He smiled internally, but externally his expression was the same as always. It wasn’t yet time to let his smile show. His empire would surely be bigger than cuts of unidentified meat and three men. One day…

“… Would you all die for Wuju?” He asked. Not a soul flinched. Good, “Da-Zhy, would you die for Wuju?”

“This day, and every other day in this ageless life you have given me.” The man kept his stance firm, speaking into the stone as he replied, “I would die for Wuju.”

“Da-Izu? Would you?”

“This day, and every other day in this ageless life you have given me.” He had trained them so well since their childhood days that their voices almost sounded the same, “I would die for Wuju.”

“Da-Kahd, what say you?” But the silence that followed was disgustingly offensive. The third man, the hunter, did not answer, “Da-Kahd?” He kept himself bowed before his Master, but he seemed to refuse the man, “Da-Kahd! Would you die for Wuju?”

… The man began to cry. Heng wouldn’t stand for it.

Though he should have struck the other two men for shuffling when the tears slowly crept into the echoing space, he let them be this time. He rose and descended as if flying on the motions of his regal attire, looming over his student as his wails intensified. There were no punishments when he stopped between the man’s butchered kill and himself however. Not yet, “Why are your crying, Da-Kahd?”

“I don’t know…” His tone was earnest, but the sobbing still prickled his ears in a way he detested, “Master, I don’t know, but… B-But this day, and every day of my—”

He kicked the man in the head, point of his metal boots to his temple. Da-Khad fell to his side,

“You don’t get to say it to me now.” And again. He kicked him again and again in the stomach. His words were calm, “Tomorrow you try again, do you understand?” All his student could muster was a wet splutter, though before he could lose the contents of his gut Heng turned his gaze to his still bowing students, “Gather the meat. Store it away. Cook it at your leisure. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master.” They said. Good boys.

He ensured to keep at his assault until all the meat was carted away, turning the man over and over as the force of his blows hit his midsection. When the other men were gone from sight was only when it was over, “… Do you understand what you have done?”

Da-Kahd took his time, but the Master gave him this one leave of anxiety, “… Yes Master.”

“There will be no food for you this night.”

“Y-Yes Master…”

“Gather yourself, meditate outside, and when you recover your Awareness, come back before me.”

“Yes Master. I’m sorry—”

One my strike, for good measure, to his head. He stopped speaking after that.

“There is no room in this world for sorry. You merely do as I say, and you recognize your mistakes when I point them out to you.”

Once again, he was up upon his perch, though he’d much rather be back down in the depths of the crypt. He found so much better company with the dead than he did the living. It was a shame he couldn’t join them any time soon...

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#tw: dead body #tw #trigger warning #just in case yi's grandpa being a weirdo is somehow too weird #also #tw: abuse #for... him being him #bleh #good to get these vibes out of my system get outta here yi grandpapapapapa

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

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//Late Wuju Wednesday drabbles, about Ionia’s favorite plotting and scheming Wuju Master, Yi Shi. Herein lies the culmination of one of his greatest schemes.

Sorta context I guess?

Memory was a funny thing, when you’d lived so long you couldn’t remember how old you actually were. Shi lived with what he liked to call transient consciousness. He existed in the moment, talked to people, did deeds, made plans, but as soon as these things were done they were gone. It made sense though, when he thought about it in his moments. Why should his mind remember every breakfast he’d ever had?

But then he cast his focus backwards, and some memories stuck out so clearly despite the fact they’d happened generations prior. The drowning gurgles of his exhausted father seemed to emanate from the river as he walked along its bank, and no matter where he looked he still saw the bloodied face of his brother as he dug his fingernails into their Master’s throat. And he remembered watching with complicity, more clearly than anything else in his life, as the water dragged the lifeless body of the legendary Wuju Practitioner down river, and he felt his hand sting when he remembered what his brother had done to it soon after.

“I’ve made it come to pass.” His brother Bo had said, a fire in his eyes so distant he seemed daemon possessed, “Isn’t this what you wanted? We’re the Masters now. I’m the Master now. All of it is ours. All of it... mine…”

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t eaten breakfast today. He wanted to remember this day as clearly as he remembered that one.

In time, he came to settle on the pier the village folk used to sail out and away, fishing boats docked calmly atop the soft current. The sun was high, and he made sure to stare at its reflection upon the water until he wept and the rippling patterns were burned into his eyes. And to make it easier to remember the whole scene, he eventually looked over his shoulder to the proud stature of a fellow Wuju Master. The diagonal scar across his face was older than the most elderly Wuju tribespeople, and his expression seemed to scrunch it up with faint concern.

“Hey, Papa.” Tsu said, and Shi motioned him to come sit. The son complied, though he approached as if approaching some sort of wild animal. Appropriate, the old Master thought. “So… It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” He went on, and still Shi was silent. He at least inclined his head as if to say the day was neither here nor there, and that seemed good enough, “I almost thought… about taking a swim, but you know. It’s… not really appropriate.”

More nothing. He’d never seen his son so unnerved, but it was as if he really had no words to give to the man. He just wanted to focus on everything. Remember everything, “What’cha thinking about, Papa? You’ve been acting weird all day. Would hate to think something’s… bothering you?” Shi just shrugged, and picked up some debris from the pier. He watched them sail away as he threw them into the water below, “Would hate… to think you’ve done something that you’re going to regret later, you know? Or, if you have done it already, I think… I’d like to know about it.”

Even the wind was still, meaning he couldn’t even mishear or misinterpret anything Tsu said. It was either that, or the man took on a serious tone for the first time in his life, and he felt obligated to listen, “… Where’s Uncle Bo, Papa?”

“…What do you mean, where is he?” He finally responded, leaving a good pause just to keep up his visage, “He is where he always is, sitting upon his throne in the temple, presiding as eternal king of these lands.”

“He’s been missing for days.”

“What is a day to you, me, or he? If he isn’t there, then he is elsewhere--”

“—He informed no one. He sent no letters. He’s been feuding with those… Eastern warmongers for months now. I saw them go with him, but he has yet to return like every time before.”

“Then you’ve answered your own questions, haven’t you Tsu?” Suddenly parchments were in his lap. To touch them sent ice through his blood, “What is this..?”

“Letters, from the leader of the Warmongers to you.” Tsu rose, hands balled and placed on his hips, “Promises of bribes. Correspondences on his continued escapes. A thank you for describing how to kill a Wuju Master? This came today. This is from today!”

He picked up the most recent letter in his grasp, silently fiddling with the thing. He almost thought to cast it away into the river too, but he needed all the things he could get to jog his memory. Tsu’s voice continued to rise its steady, irate gradient, “Read it, Papa. I’ve taken chalk to the words. Read what I’ve highlighted. Read it with a steady tone as if you’re able to deny it.”

“…We never thought it could have been as simple as a blindfold.” He said it, direct to his son’s face, not once consulting whatever the man had marked on the parchment, “But, by his own hubris, he fell down the mountain, and has died.”

“That’s… That’s not…”

“And now, we wait for them to produce the body. They should be here any time now.” He murmured, head falling upon clasped hands, “His blood is not on my hands.”

“You conspired to murder him!”

“The feud was already standing. I accelerated things so that they would come to pass in my damn lifetime. This is nothing that wouldn’t have happened on its own.”

“You conspired to murder him…” He said again, as if all his breath were gone, “Papa… It’s one thing to do all the silent protests we’ve already done. But this? Hostile takeovers aren’t how we help our people…”

But a steady paddling became apparent to the pair, and both Wuju Masters looked up river. On makeshift boats a stern group of men rowed ever closer, and when they caught the men’s eyes they let out a roar in tandem. And certainly, he only hope, he’d never forget the limp, broken corpse of his brother as a mountain of a man heaved his body up with a cry. Naked, mutilated, and clearly once a boastful sociopath. Surely it was him, and a grimly satisfied smile crept upon his features

He never wanted to forget. Not until his last seconds on Runeterra. Not until he died, and then his ancestors judged him. Perhaps he could get away with it all if their memories were as faulty as his own. Maybe they’d understand the centuries he’d waited for all this. Maybe he wouldn’t be damned as a restless haunt if he could make plans enough before he passed on.

Though maybe it’d be worth it if he just remembered that bloodied blindfold and bruised face.

“Bo!” Tsu cried, though Shi didn’t stay to see him whip a blade off his boot and jump expertly from boat to boat in order to reach the warmongers. He simply turned on his heels and walked away, even as the sounds of violence and screeching took to the air, “Bastards. All of you!”

“I’ve made it come to pass, brother.” He said, pondering how red the river would run today, “All of it... is mine now.”

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#IN ME WUJU LIVES ON . . . 『Wuju Wednesday』#bleh this is a p-p-p-public transport drabble that I don't like #but it's kept me distracted for the 2 hour bus trip #my least favourite boi #yi shi #... and i like how the tag that comes up when i type yi shi is #'yi shi plants a tree'#thats a whole other story I am sure you could find if you search that tag on my blog XD

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

Text

The 856th Annual Day of Blades: Part 1

//I wrote the first draft of this drabble a while back when I was doing p-p-public transport drabbles. I’m going to throw it up here again, faults and all, because I really wanna motivate myself to write cool stories (at least cool to me) about the last Wuju festival Yi attended before he and his students headed off to war.

If there was anything Yi was good at, it was drawing the attention of a crowd. With a piercing whistle that quietened all the chattering of festival goers, all turned their attention to his amethyst eyes as he shielded them from the light of the day. Casting his gaze upwards, he considered the barely visible sun. It was a slither behind a totem he’d dragged himself up at dawn to erect, almost so much that he wondered why he protected his eyes at all.

Day of Blades was about to begin.

“|The totem’s shadow will soon fall upon us.|” He shouted out to all those present, looking about after he’d regarded a tall, expertly carved log, “|If you wish to enter in this year’s Day of Blades competition, please come and see me. If you are a betting sort, then that will be available to you as soon as we have sorted the bracket. As always, if you want to bet your goats on someone to come first, I suggest you bet on Yi Hui. Just because that happens to be me does not mean it isn’t sound advice!|”

He bowed when chuckles sounded from the festival, and he pointed happily at the unknowable person who shouted, ‘I’ve betted on you for twenty-four years and you haven’t won me anything yet!’ before he sat back down behind his table of various parchments and a reasonably sized barrel. He wouldn’t admit it through his showmanship, but such a cry hit him in one the most tender spots of his ego. Some years by quirk of the draw he might have come second in this contest of swordsmanship, but that same draw would place him against his Master in the first round, and it would be over. This was all fun and games for the people who attended the festival though, so he intended to make it fun when the time came. Even when everyone competing took it all too seriously.

This was, after all, the only chance other swordsmen got to square off against Wuju Practitioners in fair combat.

A few late stragglers came up to his table, and he did as he always did, “Write your name, however you fancy, on a piece of paper. On the back, where you come from. Give it to my mother, and she will put it in the barrel. You can even mix the barrel around for good luck if she lets you, and then hope you don’t draw me first round.”

“May this be your Blade’s Day.” Said some of them, and that’s how Yi knew they’d done this before,

“May it be so! May you be the first not of Wuju schooling to take this day with your blade.”

But as it drew so close to the traditional closing of entries to the contest, Yi’s brow creased. An awkward number of people had shown up, and this could only make his eyes roll. People would complain no matter who got the free passes to the next round, whether it was some unknown upstart swordsmen or Wuju’s own Masters. Even if it were the fairest possible draw, and even if the prize for the contest was literally ceremonial, someone would challenge the bracket.

He was so busy grumbling to himself and scribbling random notes with his charcoal that he almost didn’t notice a petite but calloused hand slam down on the table.

“I want to enter this Day of Blades.” Commanded a familiar squeaky voice, and he found himself rolling his eyes again,

“Da-Ren…”

He looked up and through the young teen, her blade slung proud over her shoulder. While she lacked the full musculature of her male student counterparts, he’d come to know that women seemed to get their power from elsewhere. She was tall, spindly, yet stern, and she brushed her square, half fringe out of her eyes as she did when nervous.

She was also only fifteen. Such a stern face for a child.

“You are not old enough to enter.” He continued, his face falling like putty in his hand, his words sounding equally mushed, “I have told you this so many times.”

“Yi Dashi!” She pouted, “I can do it. Even if I fall down in the first round, I’ll do it!”

“Ren, it is the principal of it all.”

“I’ll be sixteen soon anyway. What difference does three months make?”

“If you aren’t sixteen now, then you’re not old enough. That’s just how it goes. I begged my Master to let me fight when I was your age, and much like you now I had to wait until the proper time.”

“But…” Her resolve quivered a moment, but she firmed herself up again. He’d give her credit for that, though not for what she said next, “… what if I don’t get the chance?”

“Come on now…” Yi let out a hefty exhale before he straightened himself a little. At least enough for the sun to catch one eye with a purple shimmer before the shadow of the looming totem threatened to engulf the rest of his face, “Don’t speak like that. This sort of talk does not bode well with me.”

“It’s a real possibility, Master! Don’t you always tell us to be realistic—”

“—Spare me from parroting my teachings. It will do you no good.”

He would have said there was silence, but there was a festival going on. People were chatting, dancing, singing, eating; and the two of them were there staring. Thinking. He certainly didn’t have to think long though. He knew her better than anyone, so his response was already prepped when she took in her own to say,

“… Papa?”

“Don’t start with this.”

“But Papa, please…”

“Oh, alright. Okay. This is what you want to test now? Do you think that you have more luck asking your father than you do your master?” He pivoted in his seated stance so that he could lean his face on his opposite hand. The now free hand flourished in front of his face momentarily, and behind it his expression snapped from annoyance to dire seriousness, “I am now your father. I now have less of a reason to let you enter this Day of Blades. You’re going to get yourself hurt. Just because it’s a contest to knock someone out of a circle doesn’t mean you won’t get injured or killed. That’s not to mention someone will find out you’ve seen only fifteen years and they will make an example out of you. People will do anything to put off other competitors. I am not sure what some of your brothers will do if you come to harm. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“—Go and buy yourself some festival treats and enjoy the contest.”

“But—”

“—Did you not hear me? It’s no. Two no’s, from both your master and father.”

“Papa!” She let her sword drop to the dirt of the soil so that she could slam another hand down on the table. He gladly met her gaze as she leaned forward, though it might have been his downfall, “So you are the father who would let his daughter go away to war, go away to kill people at fifteen, but you won’t let me enter myself into a foolish contest where no one has to die? You don’t make any sense! Your priorities are dumb.”

Yi bit through his jaw. That’s all he could muster as a year of prep work came back to crush him into his seat.

“Just let me!” She snatched at the discarded charcoal, and ripped a scrap of paper for herself. She even managed to write her name without breaking her pained stare, “It’s the one thing I want to do before we go. Can’t you just let me? If I die, I won’t get the chance again.”

Even if he felt like his face was shivering, he made no attempt to relax. He had no response, because he physically could not speak. And, so consumed he was in it all, he’d totally forgotten about the older woman to his flank. She put a hand on him in such a way that it made him jolt, but the Wuju Matron’s words were calm and soothing regardless. At least she could speak when he felt like his words were acid in his throat,

“Ren?”

“… Y-Yes, Yi Mumu?”

“Just… leave your name on the table. You will know of the decision when the bracket is made, alright? For now, let us not talk about these things.”

“But—”

“—No more buts, please. He and I have heard your case. We will consider it. There is nothing more to be said. Please just go and enjoy yourself for a while.”

“… Alright. Fine. I’ll go get my sword polished.” With that she scooped her sword off the floor, not even noting as her Master sunk further behind two clasped hands. Even the cold of the totem’s shadow couldn’t snap him away from his internal thoughts, nor could the shaking of his arm by his mother. At least not at first. Thoughts became static eventually, and he felt them easier to speak over in that form.

“Hui..?” She offered softly, “… I think it might be best to let her. Her entry would make thirty-two, and that alone would make my job much easier.”

“I…” He ran his hands down his face, as if that would hide the fact he was about ready to weep, “… Does she take after me, or no?”

“I think you’ve done well for her, in spite of her circumstances…” Huan replied, still trying to sooth him with motherly touches, “… but I understand. You don’t need to say anything. It’s difficult...”

“And I don’t need to be told that.” Slowly, Yi’s eyes slipped away from the nothingness he stared at, and they crept to the table he used as a crutch. Amongst all the administrative things that came with organizing such a competition lay the young teen’s entry into the competition:

Yi Ren – of the Wuju School

“By the Stars…” He basically spat the blasphemy, “This girl is going to end me.” Without even much consideration for his mother trying to take a breath to speak, he kicked his own stool out from under him and thundered to his feet. Though it was hard to pelt a piece of paper, he still managed to fling it into the bucket of combatants as he stormed off towards the crowds

“Hui?” His mother called after him, though all he offered to her was,

“You sort the bracket alone. I need to clear my mind before the fights.”

Truly, Day of Blades had begun.

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#WHY DO YOU FIGHT 『Memories』#uhhh what tag for this #the hobby project 2.0 #???#haven't even finished the first on aaaauuugh #dad yi feeels gives me feeeeeeeels

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

Note

For the memories meme/prompt: something of war and death.

Your character has full access to all of my character’s memories. Which memory does your character force my character to recall?

//always accepting this, for real

Battlefields were strangelyserene, if one could ignore the smell. For there to be so much action, and thennothing. For the landscape under foot to be redefined by the carcasses of thedead, and for the colors of either side to be stained deep red. There was auniformity to it all. It was the end of a story, the hard cover of the back ofa book, a finale…

Or at least that’s how Yi remembered coping with a scenesuch as this one. How he wished he had just forgotten things like this.

“Luo…” Said the exhausteddisciple Gai, his dao still crusted with the blood of battles gone by. Despitehis short stature he was bulky beyond his years, though that didn’t help muchto carry the weight of the war, it seemed, “|We’re wasting our time. We don’thave much of it.|”

“|Keep looking…|” Luo replied.The eldest of them all had seen better days surely. Though the exertion of theInvasion should have kept them all fit, he instead had begun to waste against rationsignored, “We can’t move on yet.”

“Seriously, Luo! We are wasting our time.” Another bruised man,Kang, butted in, cruelly kicking over corpses of Ionians and Noxians alike ashe scanned the ground, “How many have died here? Hundreds! If I have to lookinto another decapitated head’s festering eyes I will just take off on my own.The war’s moving on without us.”

“Calm it down, Kang…” Shaungsaid, but the true intent to diffuse the situation wasn’t present in his voice.By his side, the butch woman known as Zan made up for his half efforts,

“Yeah! Come on, Kang. We’re justtrying to do what’s right.”

But as all the young adults bickered amongst themselves, theYi of the present’s gaze slowly panned from them to another lonely soul. He satalone, on a rock in the sea of destruction, staring off into space. It wasalmost difficult to recognize himself with his full beard down to his chest,and the bloodied rags of Ionia’s war regalia clinging to his form. But therewas himself, looking like a statue but listening intently. How else could he berecalling this memory so clearly now if that man hadn’t have been paying woefulattention?

“You think I’m being unreasonable? What about you guys? Shu? Yao? Oh yeah!Wei, you got an opinion on this?” None of the other three men gave any sort ofanswer, simply grimacing as they kept to their combing of the ground beneaththeir feet, “By whatever Celestial you want to thank for this mess, this is fucked.”

“Kang!” Zan cautioned, but itdidn’t stop the Wuju Practitioner and his unkempt, muddy locks of hair fromstreaming up about him as he marched up to the trembling Luo,

“It’s fucked! Fucked as fucked. You’re fucked, Luo.”

“Please…” The once proud standingwarrior seemed to crumple up as his comrade grasped at him by the rags of hisrobes, “We have to keep looking–”

“–For what? For a corpse among corpses? Why now? We didn’t fish Tehn or Jheiout of the sea, did we? We didn’t hold prayers for De. But yet, when it comesto the kid you just want to stick yourcock in, we have to spend all this time looking for her and ‘doing thingsright.’”

“I never had sex with her…” Luowhispered, but it was immediately overpowered by the bursting in of a scratchyvoiced man with two pairs of swords tied to his legs,

“Quit it, Kang! You’re going toofar.”

“Ah! Wei! Here you are with youropinion. Guess what? I don’t care! It all comes out now.” His focus returned squarely to letting his irate spittle landupon his fellow student’s face, “What were you two always doing out in thestableyard then, huh? She was fourteen when I first saw you two sneaking off. You were a grown man!”

“I was nineteen, and I never had sex with her.”

“What the fuck difference doesthat make? You were still a damn man. I hate you, Luo!” the proclamation seemedto make the man finally go limp, his legs barely holding his weight, “I’ve alwayshated you. Always so serious. Kissing Yi Dashi’s feet. And Ren was like a sister to me, yet you drummed it intoher head somehow that she was old enough to know what loving someone even was! Always with her, I love Luo. I love him! More than anything. You disgust me…”

The speaking of her name did something to the air. It madeit double in thickness, not just for he but seemingly for everyone. No onecould look at each other, not even Kang to Luo as he dropped his head and beganto spontaneously bawl. Even himself in the past, on his solitary perch, finallyroused from his trance, getting to his feet and making his careful way to hisdisciples.

Yet even if breaths were hard to take, the Yi of the presentstill took them. Maybe it was somehow a protective measure he didn’t even knowabout, his mind wasn’t properly digesting the direct memory before him. It toldhim to space out, to just let it be, and so he did.

He too hadn’t heard any of their names in a long time, yet hismind wanted to keep it that way.

“I can’t find her!” Kang cried, dropping hisWuju brother and not caring as the man all but fell limp to the muddied,bloodied ground, “We’ve got to go. I can’t do this anymore…”

“She was… is my best… friend… Kang.” The broken-downman mumbled to the mud, “She thought whatever she thought. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Enough.” Though more gravel gathered in his throat by the day, Yi’svoice still boomed in the space. All were attentive to his commands even thoughtheir varying levels of hysterics, and the Dashi dipped his head as he spoke, “Da-Renis here, somewhere. If not, then she has escaped, somewhere. But if she ishere, she has died in defense of the country.” The man, the foster father tothem all, warbled in his convictions a moment, but cleared his throat to speakon, “If she is here, her sword is here, and even if she’s not put to rest itwill at least mark her sacrifice when we cannot. Da-Luo?”

He said nothing, almost not evenseeming to breathe.

“Wu-Shu?” He called instead, andthe young man rushed to his call, “Pick up Luo. Everyone else, we’re going. It’snot a waste of time what we’ve done here… but we’re going. The war rageswithout us.”

And Yi supposed he wasn’t so different from the man whoshushed all screams and cries, organized the marching order, and set off withhis dwindling squad once again. He knew his own face, even behind the scruff ofwar, and he knew when he was concentrating on being distant. One of hisgreatest talents was to remove himself from body, and just let his Wujutraining make the rational decisions.

The man would cry about it though. The memory wouldn’tpersist long enough to show that part, but he’d cry the heaviest tears he’dever cried up until that point. He’d even feel guilty about it after, and heknew that because he still felt guilty to this day. Crying more for some students and less for others wasn’t something he could control, yet somehow his mind still thought torank his woe as if it meant something more.

“… She’d want us to continue,Luo.” The Master said to his student, “She’d hit you for falling down now. Youknow that, don’t you?”

“Don’t fucking say it’s okay whathe’s done, Master!” Kang replied in the man’s stay, though Yi would at leastlike to think he saw a little nod from the exhausted disciple. He and Yi both knew the true extent of it all. Perhaps he’d have to have a talk with Kang about it later…

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#WHY DO YOU FIGHT 『Memories』#tw #trigger warning #for uh #accusations of having sex with a minor #though purely from one character's perceptions and not actually a thing that happened in headcanon #so don't lampoon me T__T #this has been sitting in my drafts for a while because I knew I wanted to write this #but I never wanted to bite the bullet #but then i did #I just want to write the wartime dramas pls #lombra dalla

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

Text

The 856th Annual Day of Blades: Part 2

//More pre war drama? I don’t feel inspired for much else, so you get this instead. I better give a blurb for anyone coming into it without headcanon context from my tag. I feel like my weakness as a writer is assuming people have context.

With the Invasion looming over Ionia’s head, having been active for only half a year, all those under Wuju influence had their own reasons to be on edge. Star Practitioner and Teacher Yi Hui, known now as Master Yi, was surely not excluded. Declaring the Wuju celebration Day of Blades to be the last he’d attend, he hoped his young disciples would get one last lesson before the horrors of war consumed both he and them

Fittingly, Day of Blades is a swordsmanship contest where no holds are barred. All one needs to do is draw a single drop of blood from their opponent, or make them step outside of a fighter’s circle whether by force or debate. Even in spite of the Invasion, warriors from all walks arrived to test their blades before they too commit themselves to the defense of the country. So join me over the no doubt months it will take me to write this as I try and condense a 32 person tournament into a readable format.

“Yi Dashi…”

Almost instinctively, Yi put on his festival face when someone called for him. People had been clamoring for his attention ever since he left the proceedings, when all he wanted was some food, the fresh air of his school, and perhaps a secret drink to take the head off his nerves. But the man who approached couldn’t be so easily turned away. He commanded attention, if only because of his gait.

“Oh, do you need something, Master? The festival is back towards the village last time I checked.”

Despite being close to decrepit with his declining health, Master Yi Chao still clung to the agility of his form. His hair was unkempt yet simply bunned, and the grasp about his cane was shaky, but still he ambled up to his son with the remaining tatters of his pride shining through. There was pain behind his expression certainly, but he wore it about as well as he did his stern eyes and subtle wrinkles. Eventually he offered a nod of acknowledgement, and joined Yi in leaning against his hiding spot that was the outer temple walls.

“I’m here to check on you. Your mother’s worried, and last I saw you were storming off to who knew where.”

“I’m fine.” He scoffed, “I’m just waiting for your Master to show up, so that we can have the same conversation as every year.” He put on a voice he hoped his Master would find amusing, “Did you put my name in the draw, Dahui?” His impression mustn’t have been good enough though, “Yes! Yes I… did…” A sigh escaped him, “Do you want to be around when he gets here?”

“I’ll… manage.” The father frowned, “I’m going to have to spend the day with him, anyway.”

“It’s your choice.” Yi replied idly, his thoughts focused more on trying to think of idle conversation, “So… how is your back?” Perhaps not the best place to start, he thought. At least not with the way the man winced,

“… I haven’t smoked since the night before now.” He admitted, bracing himself somewhat against the grand school he resided in, “So I’m… as well as I am expected to be.” Though as soon as he said that outwardly, his telepathy bubbled into Yi’s mind, ‘I’m in pain, student… but I’d much rather be lucid for this day than lost to time and free of ills.’

“I see…” Not usually one for sour expressions, the frown on his face almost felt foreign when it hit him, “Well, there’s no shame in forfeiting if you need to. I’ll support you if you do.”

“Thank you…” Chao offered, almost distantly, “… Good luck today, with all of your disciples,” He looked almost ready to ponder something else, but instead watched his words drift away as his gaze traveled past Yi and up the path that wound behind them. With the backdrop of the mountain from which the Highlands gained their name, five men distantly strode towards the Wuju village, “… and good luck with them.”

The Wuju teacher did a double take over his shoulder before digesting the scene properly. As soon as he did, however, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted,

“Hey, Swordsmen. You are late! By the time you get here the bracket for the fights will already be decided.” But as was expected they took their calculated time, walking almost in lockstep as they made their way along, “By the Stars, I don’t want to have to deal with Grandpapa. Not on top of everything else…”

“Just entertain him and be done with it.” Chao shrugged, “Your mother told me to babysit, so I have to suffer with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Master.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that sometimes.”

But closer and closer the men drew, ordered by height because of course the old Wuju Master would deem it so. The four souls, two pairs, who flanked the shortest man did so with their faces obscured by conical bamboo hats, leaving everyone to focus only on the stern faced powerhouse that was Yi Heng. He always kept his hair loosely tied, with no adornments to his beard either. His robes were unmistakably Wuju however, as was the way his silvery dao hung over his shoulder. He also wasn’t a man for hellos, instead stopping at distance to offer his own form of ‘good to see you.’

“Are our names in the draw?”

“Yes, Grandpapa.” Yi said on a hefty sigh, “Like every year, my mother, you hear that, mother has already placed all your names in the draw before you arrived.” Heng’s brow always creased at that. Yi would have laughed if he thought he could defend himself after, “Though we wouldn’t have to have this discussion if you actually arrived on time, and before the bracket draw was closed, now would we?”

“Wuchao.” Heng’s focus immediately shifted, and Yi slapped a palm to his face and near slid down the wall. The man was as unshifting as the temple that loomed over them, “… Do you intend to fight today?”

“Yes Master.” As if it were a force of habit, Chao dipped his back as much as his damaged spine would allow, “I hope you don’t cause any trouble.”

“I have no intentions of doing anything that isn’t right.”

“Sure…” Yi scoffed, but once more he was ignored. Heng turned his eyes towards all his students in sequence, each bowing their head when they felt the sting of his gaze,

“Kahd, ask about the witchwoman and the draw.”

“Yes Master.”

“Shei?”

“Yes Master?”

“Scope out the competing schools and tell me what you find. Information about the war is also key. Zhy? Izu? Keep following me.”

“Yes Master…” It always quirked Yi’s brow at how eerily in step they could speak. But at the end of all his commands, the grandfather’s attention was back on his son’s,

“I’m going to pay a visit to my other grandchildren… if I am so allowed.”

“If they wish to see you then they will entertain you, Master.” Once Yi might have heard spite there, but Chao’s words were hollow, “I have no way of stopping you.”

“Good…” And just like that the men dispersed, splitting off to perform their assigned tasks. The one known as Kahd, however, seemed to hover about the pair instead of taking leave, stealing even a dangerous looking glace from over the shoulder of his Master.

“Where might I find the witchwoman?” He mumbled in time.

“That’s my mother you’re talking about, you know.” Yi growled back, “And she’s where she always is when she sorts the draw. You get told the same things every year. Are you going senile?”

“Where...” The pause was subtle, but it was long enough to draw attention to the Swordsman and his particular actions. He turned up his conical hat slightly, staring directly eye to eye with Yi’s father. As he continued to speak, he tapped a single finger to his temple, “… is the witchwoman?”

In it all Yi saw antagonistic goading, and he would have begun off on a tirade if his Master hadn’t taken it in a different measure.

“She is in the temple. In the main hall.” He said outwardly, but his expression spoke of something else. The men took a pause seemingly just to stare, but Yi hadn’t been practicing Wuju for nothing. His perception was keen. There was telepathy going on that he wasn’t privy to. All the same, Kahd and his raspy mumbling left swiftly, bowing to the pair before following the wall’s perimeter. But Chao’s stare was still affixed on the air, his forehead creasing all the more over time.

“Master..?” Yi offered outwardly, but to no effect. The man began to walk, but it wasn’t the stride of a confident man. He was intently focused as if analyzing something in fine parchment print, his posture hunching as his reading efforts grew more frenzied, “Master!”

“Let us go back to the festival, Pupil.” He grunted externally, before his words boomed with a lording presence in Yi’s mind, ‘Don’t be stupid. Don’t shout, or I won’t let you be privy to this later.’ With a tug to his long sleeve, Yi was all but dragged along as he still tried to digest any implications of the his Master’s words,

“What is going on?” His voice warned, but his reply was given from an unusual place.

‘Chao… I trust him.’ The distant, warbled voice of his mother sounded out. ‘Of all of them, I trust Kahd. If it was Shei then I’d know him to lie, but Kahd is about as reasonable as any of them can get.’

‘Mama?’ He thought, only to feel the hand about his robes tense.

‘Huan, shush—'

‘ I see the draw in front of me Chao, and I can’t change it without being observed. You have to forfeit.’ As they continued on their way, the festival began to reappear around them. How Yi wished he could get lost in the smells and sights of it all now, ‘You have to! I can’t stand the thought, Chao. Please! You—'

‘--We have appearances we must keep up, Huan. You as well, Pupil.’ He thought his words as if it were nothing but a calm, internal exchange, and he made sure to offer a, “Good day. Thank you for attending.” to a random passer-by for good measure, ‘Just be calm, and if we all need to convene we shall. For now… I’m not panicking. We just wait for the draw and we go from there. Especially you, Hui. Listen, just put on a good face, and when we get the time I’ll tell you what I’ve been told.’

“Master…” His spoken word was barely a whisper. A tense, wary vocalization. His own name seemed to just deflate his whole persona. It was as if the single word signified an end to two-way conversation.

“Yes, Student?” Chao replied, his face still betraying not a single one of his thoughts. Yi took his time, though, to think of something appropriate to speak ‘in character’ that also reflected what he thought within,

“… You’re foolish old man.” He turned on his festival goer’s grin, “Do you know that?”

“Perhaps I am, perhaps I’m not.” The man shrugged, “If you are to prove me one or the other, you must debate me on it later, when we have the time.”

“I’ll make time.” He laughed humorlessly, “Though for now, we have to wait on this draw. I can’t begin to digest more… debate than what has already happened today. It’s… exciting!”

Stressful.

It was stressful, and anyone still listening in on his thoughts knew it.

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#the hobby project 2.0 #I guess this is the tag now #Idkkkkkkkkkk #just trying to wriiite #so I don't ruuust #sorry for bad writings I just #bleh

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

Note

Flashback

The water ran fast in the river, always eager to reach theocean from the not so distant mountains. And Yi had to wonder, as an over exuberantteen catapulted himself from the dock, if the ripples from his students wouldbe felt all the way down to the Lowlands.

“|Ow! My balls!|” The Student cried as he stood within the current.

“De!” Another stern teen pouted, hands upon her hips, “|What did I tell you? Did you break yourtailbone on the bottom of the river?|” But to that, the boy’s only responsewas to kick up the water all the more, soaking anyone who hadn’t been gameenough to submit to the chill.

“|De, stop!|”

“|The river’s mine,idiots. Try harder if you want to claim it… even if it hurts your ass.|”

“Yi Dashi!” Called a shorter boy with the beginnings ofscruff to his chin. Yi himself only paid a passing glance with his shimmeringlavender eyes, the uncanny parting of the water slowing the flow just enoughfor him to sit cross-legged in the shallows.

“Shuang, don’t complain.” He called mindlessly, “Sort itout. Da-Zan?”

“Master, c’mon!” The girl shouted, but before she could getanother word in edgewise he raised his hand,

“Zan. Sort it out. De? Do you need to speak so rudely toyour peers?”

“Fight me for the river, Master!” He sighed, hearing the boy’sshuffled approach through the water for miles, “Or I’ll be forced to call you Papafor the rest of my days here—”

Without even a flinch, Yi’s hand darted through the waterand directly for De’s ankles. Though a Wuju Disciple of note even at seventeen,maybe the bruise to his rump or the ambition in his eyes had him unprepared forbeing upturned into the water, and held a moment by his foot.

“I am not your father, so I really don’t have any reservationsin drowning you right now.” Once again, De gasped for his breaths when emergingfrom the waters below, floundering a moment as if he expected the water to bedeeper than what it was, “Everyone behave though, else we are going back to thetemple and training for the rest of the day!”

“Jeez Yi Da-Hui. I’m sorry.” Said the boy, but he wasn’t sorry.Not at all. Yi’s own guard fell, and instantly he found both mud and waterbeing kicked up at his face, “Aha!Come and swim in the deep water already, Papapa.”

“By the Stars, boy.”Yi sighed, wearing the muck rightly for a time before washing himself clean, “Youare lucky I don’t beat your ears in!” But his student was already preparing tolaunch himself from the dock again. He readied his stance to use his Wujutraining for such a minuscule thing… but stopped. There on the dock was anotherof Yi’s students, and all eyes who cared to focus on De eventually followed hisgaze towards his companion.

He was a complicated boy, the one who held the title Da-Luo.At eighteen he was the oldest of all the disciples, and wore his facial hair asproud as he held his sword. But his expression was notably meek behind hissharp features and general aloofness, so much so that even the cocky De thoughtto put a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s up, Luo?”

“Master..?” His low tones called out, his posture tensingwhen Yi gestured for him to speak freely, “… Do you not care that we execute people in this river?” Even thefisherman prepping for their day’s catch arched their eyebrows as the young manspoke. The rest of the disciples, too, stopped in their swimming to truly keeptheir focus, “Master, do you not care that we tie people down and drown them in this river? I don’t understand why you’deven joke about it, and I don’t understand why we can’t just be training rightnow.”

“Luo…”

“Master. We’re wasting our time. I can’t train on my own.”Yi shook his head softly as his student grew more agitated in time, “I don’twant to swim here. I can’t.”

“Da-Luo, hang on.Just wait a moment…” It was as simple as a thought, and he was up and out ofthe water. His levitation brought him gracefully up and onto the pier, one soft foot after the other, thoughit did a good job of scaring off some locals in the process. He payed them nomind as Luo expression darkened, and he wore his most charismatic smile to contestthe gloom, “… Sit a moment, alright?”

“If you wish, Master.”

“Come on now…” The man let out a half sigh, but came to situpon the rickety wooden structure anyway. He hung his legs clumsily over theedge of the thing, though his student chose an unfaltering posture instead, “Listen…You’re not wrong. This river holds a lot of significance to this place. It’sthe way we get down to the Lowlands quickly, and it’s the place some of the best fishcomes from. It is also the most honorable justice in these lands, and I willnot deny you if you find this unsettling. However,” A hearty hand slapped tothe younger man’s shoulder, though he flinched not an inch, “what is the mostimportant principle of Wuju? What is the underpinning foundation of this art?”

“Absolute spiritual Awareness…” He parroted, as he had somany times before.

“Indeed. Awareness.We must be Aware of all things, correct?”

“I’d like to think I am the best a human can be.”

“What is a river?” Luo’s brow furrowed, so Yi continued instay of an answer, “A river is a body of water, sourced from the mountains thatcarves through the land. Unless we were executing someone today, the river’swater washes away to elsewhere. The blood of Master Qiu is long gone in any event. The river, as a construct in this world, isnothing more than that. It’s water, rocks, mud, and a few boats here or there.”

“O… Okay?”

“So, while I understand that you might feel somereservations,” His smile lost it’s goofy beginnings and warmed somewhat as hetilted his head and looked into the Disciples deep black eyes, “you need to askyourself why you ascribe these meanings to something that is nothing more than…”

“… Water, rocks, mud, and boats.”

“You don’t need to swim, but you can’t let this associationstop you from swimming in all rivers, do you understand what I’m saying? Even if you think this of only this river, you’re stepping down a road of making associations where there might otherwise be none. There’slessons to be had even here, whether you swim or no.”

“I… I-I’m going to have to meditate on this, I think.”

“Truly, I encourage it…” He said as if it were the end ofthings, but his smile warped back to its old ways, “And I’m going to push you innow, like it or not.”

“Wh—”

The look of abject betrayal almost made Yi feel bad for Luoas he hit the hip high water below, but he stuck to his jesting ways and stoodtriumphantly above all his students,

“Another lesson, just take the day off when I give it toyou, Luo. You need to rest, else you will grow into my Grandpapa—”

It seemed to be a day for cutting people off, because beforehe knew it a blunt force took to his back. De’s open arms clamped around him athigh speeds, and sent both of them tumbling into the river as well.

“River Lord!” He proclaimed when Yi’s ears emptied of water,“River Lord, River Lord! Don’t wastemy time with all this Wuju on my one day off, Da-Hui.”

“Oh no. You don’tdisrespect me like that!”

The water fight that ensued was great enough that Yi almostthought to immortalize it as ‘The Balladof the River Lord,’ though the continued glares from Luo when he driedhimself off and stormed away from the river bank had him decide against it.

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#WHY DO YOU FIGHT 『Memories』#Yi has fun with his students while also scarring one for life looooooooooool #this is my content for today #hope its okay because I can't type well #muh fingertips are numb >.<#long post #ironinquisitorr

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yi-dashi-a · 6 years

Note

//Flashback oh yess

“|By the Stars. It’snoon and I’m not nearly drunk enough…|”

“Hui…”

His quarters within the Wuju temple were quite understateddespite his roll in the Institution. He had his sleeping mat, stands for hissword collection, a thatched basket for his various outlandish outfits… and afloor littered with various bottles of different wines. Expensive wines. Wine’she’d procured for special occasions, yet he’d sucked them down for noparticular reason. And he was barely decent too. Only just did his blanketscover his form, even as his aging mother parted the curtains in his doorway. Hecared not for anything as his tired eyes looked her up and down before hishair cushioned his slump back to his sleeping mat.

“Don’t Hui me.” Heslurred, “I’m Yi Dashi. Master ofthis house…”

“Why have you done this?” She asked, trying so hard to hidethe warble on her voice. She wasn’t very good at it. Even he, in his stupor,could dissect her tone, “What’s the matter? Pleasetell me.”

“I’m just trying, you know, trying to escape from my perfectlife. Great, perfect life!”

“Mama?” A feminine voice sounded, he couldn’t say who, “Ishe—”

“—Make sure none of the disciples come by here.” She orderedwith strength enough to compel him to prop up his form, “Tell them he’s sick. Noclasses today.”

“Y-Yes Mama!”

With that, the matron of the Yi Clan hid her arms in the expansivesleeves of her robes, probably so she could twiddle her fingers away from his amethysteyes. His eyes shone even then, as if his resolve transcended even this mild leaveof his senses.

“Now…” She took steps closer, letting the heavy curtain fallbehind her, “Surely you’re being sarcastic.” She wasn’t even subtle as shebegan picking up bottles from the floor to stack them neatly side by side, “Howmuch of this have you actually drunk?”

“Enough… that I want to throw up.” He said that, but stillsomehow managed a crooked smile, “But I can’t, ‘cus I’ll… ruin my clothes…”

“You’re not wearing any clothes, Hui.”

“I’ll still ruin everything…” Some power ordered him to stand,and he tried to oblige it best he could. The mother of the grown man seemed totense with panicked energy as all of him came to bare, before channeling hermotherly resilience and wrapping his blanket around his hips before she had toavert her eyes for too long, “… But does it matter? Nope… Doesn’t matter. Icould ruin this whole Stars’ Damned Wuju and it wouldn’t matter. Nothingmatters. I don’t… don’t even get satisfaction in being scolded anymore. No one dare challenge me.”

“Sit down, Hui.” She cooed, but his continued grinning onceagain summoned the mother in her, “Now, Hui. Sit back down.”

“Fine! Don’t…” Don’t pity me, he wanted to say, but the words just didn’t come out as she all but forcedhim back to his bedding. But even if those words didn’t come, he had others justdesperate to leave his lips.

“I’m your mother.” The woman put hands on both his shoulders,caressing them lightly with her thumbs, “You must tell me all of your troubles.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t already said.” He replied, mindlesslylulling his head from one side to the other, “I just want to get out of thisplace. Leave me be to leave my senses, and fetch… fetch me more wine if you please…”

“No…” She breathed, before shaking her head, “You can leavehere whenever you fancy. I don’t see what’s the matter.”

“Hmph.” He lurched forward as the twirling of his headbecame too much for him to manage, and the matron caught him without a secondthought. His words dribbled out his mouth regardless of his orientation in space though,“You know that’s… it’s not true. I haveto stay here. Too much is here. I have power, holdings, a school, a people, a…land. Lots of possessions. I have people who… they stay with me here without…you know. But! But…” He laughed, andyet for whatever reason the act was accompanied by hot tears, “It’s Master whogets to go kill demons… not me. It’s Master who gets to go see all the world,not me. Not me. Always not me. I have to stay and keep house. I’m trapped here. Trapped with my stupid, dumbchildren—”

That was a feat. He managed to cut himself off, biting hisown tongue so hard that he feared he’d chomp the thing in two. None of thismade sense once it left his mouth, he could only feel like, yet it all felt so passionatelyreal. How he wish he hadn’t drunk the last of his wine.

“… I love my students.” He wept, for some reason, “By theStars, I’m drunk.”

“Shh…” His mother soothed, her caressing of his back softeven though her hold on him was like a vice, “You want to see the world. Iknow. I know you do. It’s okay, Hui.”

“I love my students.”

“I know. And when your father returns from his time away, Iwill surely organize some sort of trip for everyone far, far away from here.Just please tell me first when you feel this sad, because I don’t want to seeyou indulging in things that are going to hurt you.”

“I… love my students…” He said again, as if it were an apologyto all of them.

“Shh…” She responded with again, pausing only in hercomforts to wipe the tears from his eyes, “It’s okay. It’s okay… Just rest,Hui. Go to sleep. Sleep this away, and talk to me about it when you have aheadache after. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here…”

But she wouldn’t get out of it that easy. He’d take his timeto cry himself into unconsciousness before he lay his own head to rest. Noteven in the depths of liquor could he find any release for his quiet angsts.

#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#WHY DO YOU FIGHT 『Memories』#yi's alcoholism: the musical #riip #back when he thought his biggest problem was that he didn't get out of the house enough #now the house is gone and he can go anywhere but there #riiiiiiiiiiiip #legacyofheart

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yi-dashi-a · 7 years

Photo

-- Eternal Sword Yi

“|Will you ever be satisfied, young man?|”

“|Probably not.|”

“|But you have near twenty swords in front of you now. Last time it didn’t seem like that many.|”

Meticulously, almost with obsessive detail, did the masked man lay his collection out in front of him. All swords were ordered by their length, creating a circular wave about his seated posture. He regarded the merchant before him with a flourish of his hand, lazily brushing his styled forelock away from his face.

“Actually, it is twenty-seven.” He replied, smirking, “Why do you think a man would sit here, every day, seasons in and out, if he was satisfied with the size of his sword collection?”

“It just astounds me,” The man inclined his head with a hand upon his chin, “firstly that you’d want so many blades. Secondly, it’s how you must carry them all around. I never see you do it. I’m intrigued.”

“I have my ways.” The swordsman laughed, “And always more room for more swords. Especially named ones. Always named ones.” But even if he kept his outward jocularity, inwardly his mind trended towards one single thing. One single fascination, “… You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the Sacred Sword, would you?”

“The Sacred Sword.” He puzzled a moment, “It’s a myth, isn’t it? Something from mythology?”

“You would think that, but it is quite real. Very real. It is the keystone to this world. The thing that keeps it from tearing asunder. Without it, the gale would blow unchecked, and the mountains would crumble into the lakes. It is metal, forged from stone hard and ancient -- A thirsty blade quenched in a river of stars.” He spoke the verses with great bravado, using his hands to liberally explain his points. Yet the merchant, one of a few faces who had gathered about him, seemed to frown at his story,

“And you speak of it like it’s a fairy tale.” Crossing his arms, he huffed, “What evidence do you have that it’s real at all?”

“Once again, I’d offer that no sane man would spend his life chasing fantasies.”

“Then that just means you’re insane.” The growing crowd gave a chuckle, “Insane enough to carry an armory around with you. Once again, I’ll ask you if you’ve ever seen it. Touched it.”

“I wish I had…” The masked man gave a hefty sigh, slumping his head into his hands, “I would love to hold it. Just once. Just to feel the power, and to examine the metal. To know that everything I’ve been able to gather about it is true, and that the techniques I develop in the wake of the Sword gain their power from the cut in reality it leaves behind. I would hate my techniques to be just my own strange martial art. If it were a woman, I would make it my wife -- a perfect match we are -- and I would love her for all of my days. She would be beautiful like no other, and powerful beyond measure. A beautiful weapon. How I’d like to hold her…”

“Insane, then.”

“...Maybe. But you feel the wind upon your face, don’t you? You see the clouds move in the sky? You feel the dead quiet before the storm. And even more so; you don’t see the wispy forms of ghosts walking this world freely, do you? Are your nights marred by the wailing of the dead? That is the Sword that makes these things. The Sword protects Heaven from Here, and Here from Heaven. That is it. Do you have another explanation for these things?”

The crowd was unamused in their entirety. Maybe some of them sat in awe of his statements, but many began to amble away. Like a street preacher amongst heathens, he was cast aside. The merchant man still remained though, bless his heart.

“… Were you dropped on your head as a babe, young man?”

“I don’t know.” Yi shrugged, “I of course can’t remember when I was a baby. But I know I speak truths, and I will trade blades for blades, or blades for information. That’s why I’m here. Secret seeking, you might say. Trying to find out how I can get to the edge of the world, so that I may gaze upon the Sacred Beginning and End. But the winds blow me betwixt here and there, and it is fate that decides whether or not I get to see the Revelation.”

“You’re… at least some sort of street poet.”

“I’ll take that as a…” Before he could finish the thought with a bow of his slouched back, upon the bare features of his face did he feel the winds shift somewhat. Out of nowhere the breeze snapped to the opposite direction. No one else reacted, but he was alert, casting his mauve eyes from place to place. It may have been nothing, but he’d grown so attuned to the presence of unusual winds during his years long search for the Sword. Even if it pained him to leave just after he had settled himself, his quest wouldn’t complete itself. The merchant cocked a brow, but he wasn’t to keep his bemused expression for long, “Do you feel that? I have to go. It was nice to talk to you, though!”

“What?”

“Buh-bye!”

He kicked his legs out and upwards, his levitation taking him up in front of wide, amazed eyes. The swords that circled him rose along with his form, their metal features flashing into vibrant golds as they merged into six similar weapons, surrounding the centerpiece that was his own personal blade.

He whipped his mask away with a half smirk, fastening it to his belt with its yellow ribbons. With that, and he did it only for show of course, he did a mighty jump that hurled him into a back flip beyond anything a normal man could accomplish. All of his swords melded into one, and on a single foot did he land upon his blade as it floated a good meter off the ground. With a brisk wave of his hand he was off, smiling with child-like glee as he followed the currents of air atop his flying weapon.

“I-Is he for real..?” He heard someone comment as he took to the sky, the yards of silk to his costume billowing out behind him, but he wasn’t of any mind to hear a response.

#ETERNAL 『AU』#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#its been a while since I did one of the AU drabbles #mostly because IDK WTF to do with Cosmic #and he's the only AU square I still need to do #its debatable if I have not done HH or Samurai but i have done other art for them #bleh bad art tho #i feel dirty drawing this art but i'll live #its what he looks like

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yi-dashi-a · 7 years

Text

Whispers from Ionia - A Fortune in Misfortune

[Previously]

“What?” The Demacian took a swig of his drink. A simple act, but the pause in their conversation somehow managed to boil and freeze Yi’s blood. Death… The word could mean so many things, yet all of them were terrible, “Stop it, Terrius. What do you mean? What death? Who?”

“They seek execute her. Not sure how yet. Hung probably? Maybe a beheading…”

“Wh… Why?” Then the man basically downed the whole mug. All Yi could do was watch,

“Because people are stupid. This whole thing is stupid. I petitioned for exile. That’s what this would usually call for… but every person I’ve ever spoken to doesn’t want that. Everyone who’s seen this case thinks she deserves to die for stealing bread and coin? That’s not justice. That’s just cruel! I serve Demacia for fair justice, not to just execute people under false pretenses and suspicion of magecraft.”

“I…” Yi thought to indulge in his own drink, and his darting eyes between it and the archer might have ceased if he had obliged himself. However, he let the wine be. For the moment he was strong enough, “… I am calm. It is okay. They think she is a mage. This is what you say to me, yes?”

“Yeah, even though it’s clear she isn’t. Annuller investigators have already been and gone because they’re their own damn matter entirely. While they said nothing either way, ‘course they’re not going to waste their time on a damn outsider if she’s going to die anyway, people are quick to cry mage.”

“But why Terrius?”

“Why? Do you know how many people saw what you did on that day, Master Yi?”

“What I… did..?” That wine once again looked so inviting, “… I am aware there were people who witnessed me take a hold of her that day, if that is what you mean.”

“That one act. All your Wuju, or whatever it is…” Terrius hissed a breath through his teeth, “… is the reason she is being put to death.”

Yi’s gut flew to his throat, but he tried his best to steady his mind as the emerald eyed man spoke on. It was a wasted effort though. His nerves were always so powerful once his reason left him, “But I know that was you and not her, yet everyone saw you and immediately thought her. I let you go, and maybe you would’ve been executed if I had arrested you that day. Instead you walked free, and in your innocence everyone was left to assume it was her who did the magical feats everyone saw. And people want reassurance. They want comfort that there isn’t foreigner mages among us. That leaves us where we are now. She’ll be dead by the end of spring if nothing is done about it…”

And then Terrius sat there, simply waving down someone to get him more alcohol. Finally, Yi felt the tug of his own drink take shape, and he was hard pressed not to gulp some down.

Sour relief. He’d relish that for a time. He could drown his troubles in the red of his wine so easily.

What a weak, foolish man you are, Hui… Said something, somewhere in his mind.

“They think Wuju is a mage work…”

“Even I think Wuju is mage work, Yi. I don’t have any other explanation for what I saw…”

“Your fellow guardsman saw me heal before their eyes!” Yi proclaimed, caring little as he almost spilled his drink upon the table as he slammed it down, “If they must take anyone, then they should take me.”

“I know.” Terry shouted back, before the stares of tavern revelers had him reign his voice in, “No one should die for magecraft though. I’m terrified of it, yet even I know better. Demacians shouldn’t in the business of murdering falsely accused mages when there are honest to Gods demons outside our walls. You shouldn’t have to die either, but… I still let you go. It’s lost me my job, no doubt…”

“Now what is it you mumble about?”

“My job! My everything. You’ve taken everything from me.” Now it was Terry’s turn to lean forward, and Yi found himself hiding behind his tankard, “There are questions about me too. If I’m a mage sort. If I had anything to do in a conspiracy that doesn’t even exist! Why did I shoot? Why did I let you go?” He slumped back down, audibly cluttering into his seat, “… And I don’t even know the answers to these questions myself. All I know is that I’m… relieved of my duties as of now. All thanks to you, that girl, and my damn twitchy bowfinger.”

“Do you think I will weep for you?” Yi offered in response, voice cold with his monotone. He took another drink to keep his nerves in check, “You are mistaken.”

“I know.” The Demacian sighed, chest seemingly heavy, “But that’s… just the lay of the land right now. I’m kept around because I have connections to you, and as I said all those months ago…” He flourished a hand as if he expected Yi to fill in the blanks. Yi did not obliged him, “… no one speaks her language! Fancy that. But she’s in talking spirits now, even if we don’t know what she’s saying. We don’t even know how to ask her name…”

“So what would you have me do?” The Ionian’s voice had finally settled, and he felt safe behind it’s indifferent barrier. The night was lost to him anyway. Surely he’d drink more than just this, and then he’d forget everything that occurred. But such things were not apparent to the archer, with his conviction bubbling on even as he seemed to be pained by his own position in these events,

“… You want to ask her questions, right?”

“I do.”

“Then we need you. Or… She need you. One of my friends is leading the investigation now, though that doesn’t give me room to do much. But this is what he’ll offer you. You get to ask what you want so long as you ask what they want, alright? Someone has to speak on her behalf, and if it isn’t you then who else is it going to be?”

“As if I have the choice to say no…”

“Do you want her to die, Yi?” As much as that simple quip strained his posture and broke his expression, he forced himself to remain quiet. Agitating all the more, the man seemed to tremble with his conviction, “Because I don’t. I shot you. Okay! Be angry about it. Hate me. Hate this whole damn country and hide away with your estranged nobility. You and I both know there isn’t a word I could say that would make you any less bitter, so why even bother with this?”

Yi drank onward in silence, but his companion hardly took pauses for breaths, “But this is beyond you and me, Master Yi. There’s a woman who spends her days in agony because we both messed up. Me, and you. I wanted her off the streets and in prison for her harassment of the people. That’s it. She’s paid a fortune in misfortune for her crimes, and yet they want to kill her without a second thought. You have to work with me now. This is the last time I’ll ever ask you. We can find a way to at least get her out of this country. At the very least she needs a proper punishment for her crimes. We both want the same thing now, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”

Silent all the more, Yi chose to take his time as Terry had in finishing his drink. His body somehow expected an instant numbness, but there was nothing then. He was still lucid, and still bombarded with all the thoughts of this terrible situation. In time he grit his teeth, turning his cataract eyes downwards almost instinctively. Why did he feel like crying, all of a sudden? It was a good thing his hair hung thick like a curtain about his face.

“… I do not want her to die.” He said in time, trying to take a deep breath against his crumbling resolve, “You perhaps underestimate the distance I would go to protect this woman. I do not even know her name, and yet I feel well equipped to fight for her.”

“You don’t have to do anything stupid if we work together.” Without looking at the archer, it was almost as if a different person was speaking. His tones were steely and resolute, with the timbre of his accent sounding out with that Demacian flair, “Please trust me. While I won’t ever know the context from your end, I know that for both of our own reasons we don’t want to live with this guilt.”

“Even if us deciding things for this woman already placed her in this position.”

“We’re dumb men. Maybe we’re separated by country, class, and age, but we’re still dumb men.” Yi found himself chuckling at that somehow, even as tears fell into his tankard.

“When is it you will need me?” He asked, and the man’s response reeked of his relief,

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, even.” Terry replied, “Which means… I probably shouldn’t drink much more. You probably shouldn’t either, yeah? I don’t want to push you off your horse like this…”

“It was my choice.” He said, as the ramifications of his choices washed over him with a sickening guilt “And I do not think I am done drinking yet. I certainly cannot return to my home, even after this one drink. The Lady of the House will know what I have done…”

“Lady Buvelle, right?” Without even thinking Yi wrenched his gaze upwards and out of his protective barrier of hair. His face was twisted into some form of melancholic snarl, and it was enough to have the Demacian jump in his seat, “Woah… Okay, uh… Won’t press that button, then. But I think it’d be better if you were less hungover come morning. Do you have a place to stay?”

“No…”

“Well, it might seem dumb to ask but you’re welcome to stay at my home. It might be easier too. I’m honestly… quite afraid to venture outside of the city proper just to ah… knock on a noblelady’s door. If we’re in the same place come morning, then we can just get it all finished within the early hours.”

To that, all Yi responded with at first was to push his empty tankard out towards the other man, letting his soft tears fall upon the table. After eyeing the quizzical look from Terrius, he sighed and mumbled,

“… If you buy me a few more drinks of this size, then I will have no choice but to stumble home with you.”

And that was just about the last thing the Wuju Bladesman could recall. The guilt of a man was an effective way of opening his coinpurse.

#WHISPERS FROM IONIA 『Event』#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#badabing badaboom gotta wrap up this event real soon yea yea #forgive bad writings I'm kinda pushing out drafts rn #long post

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yi-dashi-a · 7 years

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ladybuvelle replied to your post:

// Is raking leaves romantic? XD

Is Raking Leaves Romantic?

Autumn was afoot in the Kingdom of Demacia once more. What was this, his second? Third? Time was beginning to escape him in this land that would rather see him gone, but he was in good company. The one he called to -- like it was a simple passing pleasantry despite his shouting -- at this point surely could relate.

“|I’ll be outside!|” He said, brandishing a familiar rake in his familiar tongue. It was a blessing he got to use the language at all, but it seemed as if Ionians were good at finding each other. It wasn’t even that he needed to address her upon getting up to go anywhere, but he knew there might be heart attacks if he was suddenly outside doing semi strenuous labor. Even if some worries had long since passed, the Lady of House Buvelle was slow to forget.

Barely the first leaves had fallen when he strode about a noblewoman’s property. Autumn was young, but so was he… at least in spirit. If there were jobs to do, and they wouldn’t aggravate any longstanding injuries that still grumbled from time to time, then he’d do them. He’d brandish his rake as expertly as a sword, and he’d use his Wuju precision to make meticulous piles of oranges and yellows. It was almost ritualistic. An annual remembrance of just how lucky he was to be alive, and how feelings were best spoken of after some seasonal cleaning was done.

Granted on that certain day, so long ago, he had hardly raked a single leaf into a pile, but he was making up for it now.

He even hummed as he went about, though he was as in tune as a cat yowling to the moon. Still, he kept some spring to his strides as he dealt with the fall, happily seeing to his busy work. But not one to miss a melody, or the lack of one, he caught the familiar wefts of blue hair at distance from him. She kept it all so short now, shockingly so at times, but her reasoning was sound. Past the shock there was a certain style to it, he supposed. There was some aesthetic value, though in reality she could wear anyone’s hair and she would assuredly wear it with comforting elegance.

The Ionian sighed softly. Such pretty hair, and a beautiful face to go along with it. All of her features reflected a beautiful, though tired, soul. Someone with an ear for the downtrodden, but a wisdom worth listening to in return. Even if she hadn’t spoken a word in her life, she was more well spoken than most he’d encountered. Her telepathy was defined by a tone most soothing. Smooth, echoed reassurances. Deep in some aspects, though certainly womanly. He had always found her voice pleasant and noble-like, yet she must have surely sounded this way long before she came to Demacia.

Where must she be off to today, in this land of hers? Though they lived in the same home, and surely he could call it a home by now, their affairs were still so separate from one another. Perhaps she was off for a run? He had to laugh at that thought, though not in any spiteful way. As a friend, he might chide her for her disheveled appearance after the fact, but as a teacher, and just as Yi, he deeply respected her attempts to better anything about herself she could. It was all the more reason to adore the woman. Though she could think so poorly of herself, when she set herself to a task she would at least try. Not everyone could say they had a will to pick up and keep going. When would she realize she was so brilliant?

... Though he had to backtrack, with a furrowing of his brow. Did he just say he adored her? Had he been singing her praises in his mind, all the while leaning upon his rake and letting his cheek be like putty against the wooden end? Had he been staring this whole time? Sure enough, when he focused his lenses, the accent of blue was still standing there, still at distance, and supposedly still looking his way. He near slipped off his rake, taking fumbled half-steps in order to right himself.

The Shon-Xan native tried to play it off like it was some sort of joke, or some sort of Wuju technique. He swept the rake through his stumbling motions with what someone might have called grace, taking one of his feet up in a crane like stance. Then, he sought to spin the gardening tool around like a training staff, and for a time he managed that with some form of expertise. Spinning it before himself, and above himself, he almost felt as if he’d recovered. But, like most things he did when caught off guard, it wasn’t to keep on impressing.

Somewhere in his display he felt his balance go from perfect to non-existent, and before he knew it he was falling towards his day’s work. As he turned his head mid-fall, the only thing he noted was the iron rake head flying free of its wooden handle and off to who knew where. The next thing he felt was the subtle damp of rain from a day ago as it clung to the leaves and the grass, and through those fall colours the blue he’d noted was suddenly not so far away.

He smiled a crooked smile, because what else could he say? He was a silly man with conflicted thoughts, and in the end he was just thankful there was another human around to offer him a hand.

Both past, future… and in this current present.

#ladybuvelle #WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#i usually dont like writing about other people's muses but this is inoffensive enough #have some yi swooning over his bab #because raking leaves is special and important did ya kno

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yi-dashi-a · 7 years

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Whispers from Ionia - Interrogation: Part 1

[Previously]

When Yi awoke upon a wooden bench pretending to be a couch, the first thing his damaged eyes adjusted to was the round face of a small girl. With her green eyes and blond hair, the Ionian almost thought he was staring at his host from the night prior, but her spoken words were squeaky and simple. In another language too, though he wasn’t sure he could digest any spoken tongue with his headache. Rolling onto his back, he placed a hand upon his eyes as he called,

“Terrius. Where are you..?” He at least remembered that much. He’d drunk his bottle’s worth of wine in front of the man with archer eyes, and then wept himself to sleep.

“You’re finally up, Master Yi?” The Demacian called back distinctly, his voice distant, “Adralla? Où es-tu?”

“Je suis là Papa!” The little girl seemed to toddle off then, at least by the sounds of it, though Yi found his ears were better at digesting language than he thought. He furrowed his brow and echoed,

“Papa..?” Before he propped himself up as best he could against his old gut wound. The room spun for a moment, but memories of the sensation reassured him that these things could be fixed with more alcohol. Before that though, he scanned the simple surrounds before his eyes finally found the man he was searching for. Dressed spiffily in his leather armor, he scooped up the small child with careful ease and gave his trademark smirk,

“Sleep well?”

“Barely…” Yi grumbled, “… But may I ask a question before we get onto more serious matters?”

“Sure?”

“How old are you?” The man seemed to laugh, before shaking his head,

“I’ve seen twenty years, why?”

“Only twenty? That explains a lot. It is no wonder you let a child stare at a sleeping drunk…” Carefully Yi endeavored to rise, though his altered state almost had him falling to the floor again, “How old is she..?”

“U-Uh. Well…” He whispered something into the child’s ear, before setting her down. Her wide eyes set upon Yi’s once more, where she seemed to courtesy softly before saying a heavily accented,

“Sorry, Sir.” With that she bolted, running to another room. Terrius focused his caring efforts on Yi then, coming to his side and ensuring he wouldn’t spill to the floor,

“It’s a long story. She’s six, and my kid sister, though she knows me only as her papa. My Papa’s kid, but not my Maman’s kid, you know what I mean? It really is s a long, long story. Are you alright though? Do you need some warm milk to sober up?”

“I am allergic,” Yi began with a glare, “to milk, and to the thought that there is only you and that child in this house, yes? By the Stars, what was she doing when you were running around after the thief?”

“I… have a lot to feel guilty about.” The Demacian’s smile was gone, wiped away and replaced with his other trademark. Determination, “She’ll be fine though. My Maman looks after her during the days and the nights when I’m not around. That’s the least of my worries today.”

“Indeed.” Though his rational mind wished to press the issue, his hungover one was mono-focused, “What is the plan for this… day?”

“The plan is making sure you can stand on your own two feet, first of all.” Tentatively, Terrius stepped away from Yi with his palms ready to catch the man. It was perhaps only Yi’s Wuju training and his general alcoholic apathy that kept him standing so tall, “Second of all, it’s as simple as going to where she’s held. We’ll meet there with her, and you’ll be briefed by whoever’s handling the case today. I’m not sure we can do much for her today. We just need to know the basics first”

“This sounds easy enough.” Yi remarked, as if he could comprehend the ideas. He used his ears to feel out the location of his true pair of eyes, and swiftly he scooped up his helmet from some place on the floor, his vision seeming to instantly clear when they settled in front of his face, “Let us go, then.”

“If you say so. You sure you don’t want an hour or so to wake up?”

“I wish only to get this done. You must understand this, yes?”

“Not really, but I guess you’ve got a better work ethic than me…” With a meek sort of smile, he turned and called out to the girl he figured was named Adralla. She presented herself again in time with a rough hessian carry bag over her shoulder, filled with various clothes and wooden toys. He eyed the small creature as if she were just that. A creature; filled with youthful hope and curiosity, that would grow into something no one could protect. He cast his lenses away before long, ignoring her foreign language questions of him, and her father’s answers echoed in Common and his Demacian tongue.

“I hope you’re ready for this, Master Yi.”

“If I am not, I will simply drown my fears later on.” To that, the man bowed his head. His anxieties he wore like badges proud, though Yi put no stock in such medals.

The walk was short yet tense, with no words shared between the pair once the child was left safely away from all the adult situations. Yi was reminded of that fated day, in the winter and snow, where they had walked in step respectfully for a time. Terrius had said much the same things as now, in reality. Petitioning for help. Petitioning to work together. He could only ponder the multitude of branching paths that would have resulted from his cooperation then. The Demacian was very silent now though. Not even his breaths rung heavy on the air as cobblestone paths wound about granite constructions, loomed over by the distant visage of the Citadel of Dawn.

Yi had to wonder if the King of this place even cared, as he eyed the domed construction. So far away, sitting upon his throne, fretting for his life at the slightest mention of magic. Or maybe he was blissfully ignorant, his palace certainly constructed of the purest petricite. Perhaps he’d known no other life, and as such had nothing to fear. He couldn’t ponder on such things for long though. The skyline was obstructed by an imposing looking structure with slit like windows and the sounds of wailing echoing from within. Terrius looked over his shoulder, before motioning with his head to follow him. As if he hadn’t been doing that all this time…

“Oh, Terry!” The jailer smiled from behind his hefty book of prisoner records, “Haven’t seen you in a while, my friend. How do you fare?”

“I’ve been better.” The archer offered with a overproduced smile, “I wish they’d give me my longbow back already, then maybe I’d be in better spirits.” The guardsman laughed, closing up his book and fishing some keys from a small wooden box,

“I’ll get Kristoph. I assume you’re here for everyone’s number one criminal.” Both Yi and Terry winced in tandem, stealing some playfulness from the third man, “Hopefully… all this gets resolved soon. The garrison isn’t the same without you there.”

“Thank you.” Was all the bowman could offer, before turning to Yi. As was his way, the Ionian made sure his expression was as even as he could muster in the circumstances. He was internally prepping by counting his breaths. With every in and out he felt at least somewhat more prepared to face the woman. He had to wonder what she thought about all this too, though he couldn’t force himself to inhabit her shoes.

In time, the vaguely familiar tank of a man entered the room, his expression stern. Though he was more like a turtle then a man, Yi was attentive to his every word. His presence was commanding, despite the ridiculous cut of his plate armor.

“Terry.” He began, to which Terry just averted his gaze, “And Master Yi. Partners in crime, according to some people.”

“It has been quite some time since we have last spoken.” Yi offered, bowing as deeply as he could, “Though I do not wish to dwell on pleasantries for too long. You must know why it is we are here, yes?”

“Indeed, though I’m hesitant to let the likes of you see her. If I’m honest, all I’ve ever heard about you makes me think you’re the scheming sort.” The Demacian Swordman’s eyes narrowed, “But I can only trust that you’re not here for ulterior motives. Without you, she’d go to trial with not even a name attached to her face.”

“I am not sure what you imply in your words.” He straightened himself once more, “But I assure you I am in no state to cause trouble. I am still…” His lenses trailed on Terrius’ stiff posture, “… recovering.”

“I see.” For a moment the man flicked through the various parchments in his grasp, before handing a particular one to Yi with his bulky hand. It was a formatted list with multiple questions, though he wasn’t of a mind to read them all then, “Then I’ll assume Terry has already been through what we need from you. It’s going to be like this: You will read off all the question, in Common first, and then in your language. She will answer you, and then you speak what she spoke in Common. Is that clear?”

“Do I get to ask my own questions?” Yi firmly retorted, his words stealing some formality from the Demacian.

“You will, so long as you follow the procedure. Ask them in Common, then your tongue, then speak the answer in Common again.”

“That…” Was not fair, but Yi had no other choice but to sigh, “… is fair. I will do as you say, Kristoph.”

“Good. Follow me, then.”

It was then, as if so suddenly, Yi became aware of his heartbeat. The muscle was strong, and thudded against his ribs with the power he’d trained it to have. But it was noticeable. Every beat felt like it would throw him off as he put one foot before the other. The two Demacian’s conversed tensely, but he couldn’t hear them over the flow of blood through his ears. He thought for a moment he might pass out, or that he was still a drunken mess, but somehow he persisted without visions or hallucination. The hallways turned at sharp, ninety-degree angles, and he navigated them as if there was nothing wrong at all.

And in a corner tucked away, with one of the few cells that got direct sunlight it appeared, was a small tan soul curled up on a straw mattress. She faced the hallway, the bags to her eyes visible even at distance. Her hair lay sprawled upon her bedding, its ends frayed like poorly kept fabric. Yi’s lenses immediately locked onto her resting posture, and he couldn’t comprehend a force that would rip his focus away. The heavy footfall of men roused her too, and one heavy eye fluttered open to observe the trio. It seemed her eyes were also glued to him too, though her expression was notably more fearful.

“Yi Hui…” She whispered to her raggedy blanket, the name striking him like a dagger to the heart. But still he persisted. Somehow even such an injury was numbed by simply looking at her.

“Welp.” Said Kristoph after he inclined his head towards the woman, “You know what to do. Speak her answers slowly, so that I can write them down, “And you don’t say anything, Terry.”

“I’m not going to…” The man mumbled.

#WHISPERS FROM IONIA 『Event』#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#Even though readmores make people not read things I'll be spamming text walls #so these will be readmore'd #hence the links to previous parts #so that people who stumble across this later know that its not the first part I've posted tonight

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yi-dashi-a · 7 years

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Whispers from Ionia - Drinks Amongst Friends

Last time on Whispers from Ionia (what is this a TV Show now?)

Yi had grown accustom to Demacian places of commerce giving him an evil stare when he entered. Always judgemental of his strange technology, sometimes to the point of turning him away. He understood it without a doubt, but he’d still wear a grim expression when a barkeep locked his two eyes with Yi’s seven lenses and motioned for him to remove his goggles. His hair, for once in a state of lustre given his cleaning rituals, fell to either side of his face, and he rubbed his tired eyes of pale honey,

“We are already attracting attention to ourselves.” But the archer who had lead him here was stern as he politely set aside his bow at the door. Truly a Demacian to his core, at least in his rigid standing posture. He gave a soft shrug, endeavouring to find an empty table among the evening drinkers. The thing was small and round. Too close for Yi’s comfort, but again what choice did he have?

“It will be fine.” Terry said, “All I see are drunks and merry folk. We can talk here.”

“Merry folk like to spread rumours.” Yi sat himself upon the rickety stool, testing it by rocking his weight back and forward. Though he felt as if he’d fall at any moment, he figured it satisfactory for some unnamed tavern, “I still do not understand why we needed to come here.”

“Because I need a drink.” The Demacian was all smiles, but the act dropped right off his face as he considered the Bladesman’s piercing stare as the Ionian brushed his hair behind his ears, “… A drink with someone worth drinking with. Despite it all I still don’t hate you. Just talk with me though. We don’t need to make quips at each other anymore.”

“You are the one who must talk.” Yi said, discarding his helmet at his feet and leaning his chin on woven hands, “She lives?”

“Yeah, she does…” The guardsman sighed, finally taking a seat across from his rival, “It’s not a happy life for her right now, but it’s a life. Breaths and all, though she’s basically... debilitated by her wound. By all accounts the arrow should have destroyed all her insides, and maybe it has. But… I don’t know. I don’t like to—”

“—If you do not like to think about it, then you should not have shot us.”

The man seemed to chew on those words a time, before soundlessly raising a hand and motioning over a woman who worked the tavern. She hopped over with an expression happy enough that it managed to insult Yi somehow.

“… Got anything in the way of food.” Terry asked her, “Any pottage brewing?”

“Just ales and wines, Sir.”

“Ale will do, then.”

“Cheap wine?” Yi interjected, and he didn’t even regret asking when the barmaid nodded, “Then this for me, please.”

“Yi…” Terry offered, almost as if the Demacian should have given a damn. Yi felt his blood pump directly from his heart to his fist, but the archer’s jaw wouldn’t feel his strike. He instead spat some words with the same intended force,

“If I must listen to you and your misplaced regrets, then I do not wish to remember much of it after.” With the barworker dismissed, Yi’s tired brows firmed up all the more, “And you shall pay for this, and you shall tell nobody of this after. I need not rumours of myself spreading outside of Demacia City.” The sad face of a certain adopted noblewoman flashed in his mind, but as her worst fears might have affirmed he was quick to push thoughts of the Lady away. “But to important things; if she lives, then what is her state? Both physically, and in the eyes of the law? Who is she? What is her name?”

“I…” The Demacian’s shoulders slumped, and Yi would revel somehow in his uncertainty, “There are things I know, and things I don’t know. I don’t know her name, and I don’t know why she’s here. We can’t get information out of someone who doesn’t speak a word of Common. For the most part however, she hasn’t been fit enough to stand trial. Though everyone’s minds already seem made up; we Demacians are stubborn people I guess. Everyone’s opinions are aligned, damn idiots.”

“What..?”

“She’s already been sentenced by most people’s standards, but they want to run her through the motions when she’s well.” Even if he didn’t realise it, Yi was leaning forward upon his hands. He didn’t even care for the tightness that radiated from his old arrow injury as he listened intently, “… Don’t blame me for the things I say, Master Yi. This is really all beyond me now. I don’t have any say in what the law does to her. All I did was arrest her. That’s where this should have ended for me, but instead I’m caught up in this Godsdamned stupid controversy.”

“What do you mean? Just be direct with me, Terrius.”

As if on cue, the barmaid placed down two tankards, one of grain and one of grapes. Terry picked his drink up with a tremble to his otherwise perfectly poised archer hand, though he did not indulge himself as of then. He merely sat there, taunting the Bladesman in his silence. He wasn’t so far gone that a palm to the table didn’t summon a jump from him though, “Terry! Answer me.”

“Do you really want to know, Yi?”

“Yes! Do not toy with me. Not right now, or ever.”

And in response to Yi’s request, Terry offered a single word as he eyed his drink. So simple, yet it stole all sensation from his body when it entered his ears,

“… Death.”

#WHISPERS FROM IONIA 『Event』#WUJU THRIVES IN STORY NOW 『Drabbles』#something small to get my brain back in gear for this dumb event #I'm very uninspired but i just want to get it doooooooooone #so you get like #a half drabble #pft #end me

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