illtakethat-yoink‌:

“If you want me to stop insulting you then at least take the time to learn my name. Also I’m not a kitten.” She narrowed her eyes on him, pushing his hand off of her shoulder.

"You got big ears though," he answered, an attempt to be light hearted. "If not a cat, are you a fox, Au... rosa? Is that right?" Draven's face had a most confused look.

“Draven does fancy a good peach, that’d be nice. Wouldn’t recommend a white outfit, my parties tend to get…. too wild.”

@vastayanmom

“Aww! But I don’t have much else to wear…but I’m happy you’d love some peaches, they are my favorite!”

“My dear, you are a peach yourself. You’re always welcome in Draven’s house.” He hands her a glass of champagne. “Stay away from Darius when he get’s drunk. He likes to throw things.”

Amelia blushes at the comment, taking the glass of champagne she was offered to drink. “Thank you that’s sweet of you and I’ll be wary of this person..but who is he?” the vastaya would whisper to Draven, looking around her surroundings.  

Draven gasped loudly as he took a defensive pose, hands out in front of him like knives. He instantly recognized Riven, and slight confusion set in.

“Tryin’ ta sneak on Draven? You know that’s a bad move, Riven. Explain yourself…….. and no, I was not singing.”

Riven’s own arms sprung up in response to Draven’s moment of panic. “No, not trying to sneak up on you. I’d been doing some meditations for about the last half hour. Was just about to leave until I heard you….not singing.”

The exile shrugged. “So, what…brings you to these parts?” The thought was repeating itself in her mind that, she hoped it wouldn’t click in Draven’s mind that she was an exile, that she was officially listed as KIA.

He relaxed his stance, arms crossing in front of his red jacket and a smile crept from under is mustache. He recalled her being dead, he didn’t really care, politics was never his strong point.

“Draven’s on his way to Piltover. My son is there and I need to visit him.” He stroked his mustache in thought. “He never seems to accept my love though.”

“Piltover?” That was definitely not a destination she’d envisioned for him. At least, not one that he would be so care-free about. His son? Thinking back, she vaguely recalled him claiming parentage over an explorer from the city-state. And while she’d never exactly met him, she had heard a little bit about his reputation. And she didn’t see him the type to associate with Draven in the first place.

“Hm, I see.” She tilted her head, regarding the executioner, the doubts and panic rising in her mind, yet she refused to betray any of it in her expression or her voice. “Ezreal, right? Well, er… I wish you luck in his receiving you?” Riven really wasn’t sure what to discuss with him that wouldn’t make him put two and two together regarding her position. 

“Yeah, Ez, that’s the little boy. Was visiting some old gambling friends of mine when l ran into him. That’s a story for another time.” Draven crossed his arms and an excited smile grew on his face. “Draven’s got a proposition for you. Come.”

He turned and began walking in the same direction he was going, unsure if she was going to follow. There was a tavern he frequented on the way to Piltover they could stop at. “How about a game of darts? Loser buys drinks.”

Riven nodded slowly. She was…well, happy to see that Draven was pleased, at least for anything that didn’t involve killing others. Yet she tilted her head at Draven’s proposition. Darts, and drinks? Every warning siren in Riven’s head was blaring, warning her to get as far away from the other Noxian as quickly as possible.

Yet…she couldn’t. That would definitely cause problems. At this point, she didn’t see any way out of this that involved getting away without raising suspicion. She knew she’d still have to play it safe, though. “That…would be nice. I might pass on the drinks, but it would be good to catch up to you.” Hopefully that’ll just mean listening to you talking about your own times without asking about mine…

Draven led them both through the wilderness for two days. They traveled almost entirely north the entire time, tilting a small amount east just at the end. Their destination was a small town, just a few hundred people in population.

They entered into a secluded tavern that was adorned with banners with large white roses as center pieces. "Ya know, Swain would execute Draven for not bringing him your head... but that don't interest me." He ordered a round for each of them, "just wanna know why the second best performer left the Reckoners just before her prime."

"Can't be as good if Draven's already better. Thought what was obvious."

illtakethat-yoink‌:

“I hardly doubt that is what you said, you’ve got your head so far up your own ass that I feel like you execute anyone who you feel like doesn’t like you because I can already tell that you’ve got a fragile ego.” She huffed, turning on him and jabbing him in the bare chest with a clawed finger, her eyes blazing with her annoyance.

"You've got passion, kitten. Draven respects that." Still smiling, he place a hand on her shoulder. "We could use that and your obivious smartness in Noxus. You could be a most valuable spy."

"And stop insulting me. Was only being nice."

illtakethat-yoink‌:

“I hope you wipe your ass with poison ivy you insufferable moron! If someone is nice to you the least you could do is remember their name and not threaten to kill them. I swear if I was your brother I would’ve beat your ass long ago! I mean why would the gods waste such an attractive body on someone with the personality of a territorial badger?!” She rambled, angry at the man following after her obviously.

A compliment? Not surprising, but always welcome. “Of course Draven is attractive. That’s the second best part of him.” He was walking quickly, trying to catch up. “Why would I want to kill you? I said I’d make you drink until you regretted telling him.”

As he walked, flash backs played in his mind of his brother finishing fights Draven started and then turning around and hitting Draven. Some, if not most, of his scars were probably from Darius. “As if Dar could even hit Draven,” he half stuttered and laughed.

Draven gasped loudly as he took a defensive pose, hands out in front of him like knives. He instantly recognized Riven, and slight confusion set in.

“Tryin’ ta sneak on Draven? You know that’s a bad move, Riven. Explain yourself…….. and no, I was not singing.”

Riven’s own arms sprung up in response to Draven’s moment of panic. “No, not trying to sneak up on you. I’d been doing some meditations for about the last half hour. Was just about to leave until I heard you….not singing.”

The exile shrugged. “So, what…brings you to these parts?” The thought was repeating itself in her mind that, she hoped it wouldn’t click in Draven’s mind that she was an exile, that she was officially listed as KIA.

He relaxed his stance, arms crossing in front of his red jacket and a smile crept from under is mustache. He recalled her being dead, he didn’t really care, politics was never his strong point.

“Draven’s on his way to Piltover. My son is there and I need to visit him.” He stroked his mustache in thought. “He never seems to accept my love though.”

“Piltover?” That was definitely not a destination she’d envisioned for him. At least, not one that he would be so care-free about. His son? Thinking back, she vaguely recalled him claiming parentage over an explorer from the city-state. And while she’d never exactly met him, she had heard a little bit about his reputation. And she didn’t see him the type to associate with Draven in the first place.

“Hm, I see.” She tilted her head, regarding the executioner, the doubts and panic rising in her mind, yet she refused to betray any of it in her expression or her voice. “Ezreal, right? Well, er… I wish you luck in his receiving you?” Riven really wasn’t sure what to discuss with him that wouldn’t make him put two and two together regarding her position. 

"Yeah, Ez, that's the little boy. Was visiting some old gambling friends of mine when l ran into him. That's a story for another time." Draven crossed his arms and an excited smile grew on his face. "Draven's got a proposition for you. Come."

He turned and began walking in the same direction he was going, unsure if she was going to follow. There was a tavern he frequented on the way to Piltover they could stop at. "How about a game of darts? Loser buys drinks."

reblog if you respect ships you don’t like. 

illtakethat-yoink‌:

Did… Did he just threaten her? Oh hell no. “Did you just threaten me?! NO, SCREW YOU, Find your own way back to your brother you stuck up ass!” She yelled after him, deciding that she was just better stomping off, but she wanted to set his clothes on fire as well now.

Draven was insulted. Stuck up? Him? The audacity. He scrambled back from the stream only to find his nice suit on fire. Luckily there was a nice thin vine and a few large leaves nearby.

"Uh... A... Hey don't leave Draven behind!" He, in all his narcissism, had already forgotten her name.

Reblog if I'm allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.

Draven gasped loudly as he took a defensive pose, hands out in front of him like knives. He instantly recognized Riven, and slight confusion set in.

"Tryin' ta sneak on Draven? You know that's a bad move, Riven. Explain yourself........ and no, I was not singing."

Riven's own arms sprung up in response to Draven's moment of panic. "No, not trying to sneak up on you. I'd been doing some meditations for about the last half hour. Was just about to leave until I heard you....not singing."

The exile shrugged. "So, what...brings you to these parts?" The thought was repeating itself in her mind that, she hoped it wouldn't click in Draven's mind that she was an exile, that she was officially listed as KIA.

He relaxed his stance, arms crossing in front of his red jacket and a smile crept from under is mustache. He recalled her being dead, he didn't really care, politics was never his strong point.

"Draven's on his way to Piltover. My son is there and I need to visit him." He stroked his mustache in thought. "He never seems to accept my love though."