truthsblade
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Ironeye’s chest rots but doesn’t bleed. The blood has left him long ago, but he can see the lining of his flesh, a hint of his bone, tendons and muscles loose with atrophy. And Wylder’s hand is curiously testing the waters, giving breadth from the cavity but still running along the fleshy lining of the opening. It is just that: fleshy. It gives Wylder the same impression as when he prepares raw meat: slightly slick, tender, fatty.
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Perhaps he could learn to adore Jhin’s blood, too.
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Jhin can’t tell where one of them ends the other begins as tendrils of paint manifest, curling around their extremities. Hwei mirrors the pose in their shared vision, settling himself atop Jhin. He can sense Hwei’s excitement through the link of his magic. “You allow me this, Jhin. An outlet to the darkness that lives inside me, and I must…” Hwei’s eyes shine, a sunset’s reflection in an oil slick. “Thank you.”
Hwei’s resolve is—beautiful, Jhin thinks.
Jhin and Hwei share their last night together in Koyehn.
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And, well, he doesn't run once he's outside. He wishes he did. Viktor grips the railing in front of him, wild-eyed and panicking. The door jostles behind him, because of-fucking-course it does, Jayce too curious and too much of an ass not to follow him. Never giving him any time to think by himself, his brain too big for his own head and spilling into everyone else's space.
“Leave me alone.” Viktor seethes, and he hopes his voice gets the sentiment across.
In typical Giopara fashion, Jayce doesn't. He steps outside and lets the door close behind him. The click of the door shutting should not be as damning as it feels.
Jayce cons Viktor into celebrating Progress Day with some drinks.
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“Must I explain?” Jing Yuan says, amused. “I'm sure you don't need me to spell what I'm implying to you. Your cover is rather weak.”
Jiaoqiu gasps, mock offense clear in his voice. “General! Speaking to citizenry that way…” His tail wags harshly. “Imagine the scandal if that gets out.”
Huffing out a laugh, Jing Yuan absentmindedly places the papers down on an entry table, and slowly makes his way towards Jiaoqiu. “Well, my friend?” His boots tap on the tile of the Seat of Divine Foresight, nothing to muddle the sound aside from the birds outside who haven't quite made it to sleep. “What sort of scandal do you think it will get?”