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╳┄▌ⓌαywαяD (ap.)

@breezeblade / breezeblade.tumblr.com

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@prodigall
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                                                         Piltover.

   A strange polis of innovation and steel, combustion and diversity; not a familiar environment by any stretch of the imagination for the wanderer. However, there was law here, law that had yet to be turned against the Ionian (the only change he welcomed, really).

   The air was thicker here than back at home, an ever mingling mix of byproducts created by modern emissions and the costal breeze from the gulf. It was tolerable (unlike Zaun’s atmosphere), though Yasuo couldn’t help but feel somewhat out of place in the presence of the foreign wind.

   That, and every street looked the same to him. Generalized architecture was all he could perceive: buildings here, roads there, signs and shops tossed everywhere else. A headache was starting to build as the ronin figured it was high time to seek aid. Anyone should do; they were likely experienced in the area if not a local.

                                          “Err... hey, kid -- got a moment?”

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reblogged
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lisicae
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                Nine vulpine tails whip silently through the dense forest thicket, the soft sound of         breathing masked by the nocturnal sounds provided by the wildlife living inside the        coppice in which the vixen calls home. Who was this stranger so close to her abode?        Was he an absolute fool? Did he not know the dangers of wandering so close to the lair        of the kumiho? Of course, the curious nature of the femme-beast spurred her actions,         and thus, she trailed the mysterious sword-wielding male.           For hours, the creature trailed him– intrigue dancing across her lips & limbs. Occasionally,    however, she made a foolhardy movement and gave sounds indicating her presence—-    a simple act that made her cringe internally each and every time such a slip-up was made.

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               As the stranger slowed to a stop, so did the huntress—- her body tensed, ears pressed             backtightly as she inhaled silently; carefully. Of course, inconvinience met her as the moon          shone brightly through the trees, and thus, face-to-face was she & the man, her golden hues          locked on to the wanderer, the scent of the human man hitting her nostrils with a sudden            slap. Desperately silent, the beast sat unmoving inside the very brush he was inspecting, and         thus, gave the faux humaness pause. Hunger was slow-boiling, a fact she chose to ignore as it           toiled inside of her, burning her insides but she would not feast. Not until she made judgement.       Silently, and delicately, she leaned forward, revealing herself to the man whom stood before her.             His previous silence was met with equality as she stood tall, leaves strewn about & tanged       in her capacious, long locks of satin-like hair, framing the features that stood out like a pale bone       in the crescent light of the lunar lit setting. Behind her, the white plumes of fur cascaded over the      brush, almost encircling her completely as she stood unwavering, eyes locked on his own.            .                                        …….

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breezeblade

         “--!

   The ronin was not easily surprised, but the sudden movement so close to his being prompted a swift backpedal. There was no aggressive followup to the rustling, but the creature did not flee either. Lifting his head, Yasuo saw neither an expected animal or assassin, but a woman strewn with loose nature and radiating eyes. However, as she reached full height, columns of white fur seemed to emerge around her. At first, the Ionian thought the moon’s light to be playing tricks on him, yet after consecutive blinks they remained. Could they be... tails?

  Tales of forest spirits were a common, but the swordsman never payed them much heed in his older years. Alas, before him, unmistakably, was one in the flesh: mentioned in rumor and story alike, the kumiho is to be the product of foxes which live for centuries. They supposedly have the ability to transform at will -- and hold a rather malignant taste for human flesh. Especially that of males.

   With a sharp exhale, the wanderer’s grip on the nameless blade remained, slowly rising to his full height in turn. If it really HAD been following him this whole time, then what other reason would it have to show itself other than attempt to kill him? Foxes were predators, so kumihos certainly were no different.

                              Was it possible to fight such a being and live?

   After moments spent in mutual silence, Yasuo would speak up, unsettled by the huntress’ lack of action.

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   “-Why do you follow me, creature? I have done nothing to disrespect you or these lands...”

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exfury

Who? A wary gaze sought the source of the voice, finding it in the person of an ionian with a peculiar style. A rapid observation finished to put her on her guard. Even though she estimated herself skilled enough to outmatch most of them if a conflict happened, ionian swordsmen weren’t people to take on lightly.

She’d straighten her posture, offering an icy look in return. Her tone was as cold as her eyes when she spoke.

                       “ I don’t remember ever giving my name to someone like you. ”

If a name had to be given she will certainly not be the first to drop it.

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breezeblade
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   “Hey, relax -- you never gave me your name, I’m just asking.”

   The Ionian squinted slightly as she changed her stance, not wanting to give the assumption he wished to fight. The female’s alias was muttered in undertones with the stories told, but Yasuo was never too keen on remembering random epithets. She certainly seemed as aloof as her demeanor was made out to be.

   “I’ve heard some mentions of an ex-Noxian soldier who roams these parts time to time. Seeing that shoulder-guard of yours, I’m assuming that old soldier is you.”

   Yasuo raised a brow, waiting for the other’s response.

                     He didn’t care so much about the name of the woman, but her identity.

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