DUST IN THE CLOCKWORK
...
She sighs, and the flames burning around her fade to nothing. She speaks without turning, weary yet proud.
"My judgment is complete."
The Noxian youth behind her stares in trepidation and caution, cradling a half-dead village girl, shielding her with his own broken body. He swallows, voice rasping and hoarse from shouting and unforgiving, scratching winds. "Please…you can kill me, but please don't hurt her."
She gazes at him, her features shadowed in the depths of her helmet. Allowing her feet to touch the bloodstained ground, she stands as tall as any man, untouched by the destruction she has wrought. "My judgment for this day is complete. You have been found just."
He blinks up at her desperately, uncomprehending, unable to look away. With a twinge of unease, he sees that the Shuriman sands shift over her armour without a trace, not clinging or settling in its grooves.
The same sands pile in the cracks of his armour and the child's clothes without remorse.
And in the worst of times an angel shall come, burning bright and golden to blot out the darkness in the land, for it is all she has ever known…
Her wings blotted out the sun, the shadowy feathers curling around their huddled figures in an embrace, the spotty imprints of a crown of flames still dancing behind his eyelids.
All you who do wrong, know that you, too, shall be judged.
And that justice is a very relative term indeed.
"You have no blood on your hands," she says simply, her voice flat and dispassionate but not uncaring. "It is not your fault to have been born in a war-loving nation, nor to have been conscripted into their battles. You chose to save an innocent despite it meaning you betrayed all the ideals you have ever known. You chose to do what you truly believed was right, and therefore, you have been judged worthy of living."
Legends that soar across the land in only a handful of years are to be feared, child. They have truth within them.
He shudders, head throbbing as he hugs the child closer, brushing her bloodied hair from her face with trembling fingers as more crimson flows from his wounds into the murky sand. "Thank you."
She is justice. Do not tip the scales—if her blade falls toward you, it is to sever your weight.
The angel's helmeted head turns and he catches the flash of a bright blue eye and a grim mouth as she speaks again. "Do not thank me. You saved your own life this day."
But do not think her a cruel creature. She is ancient, and wise; should you harbor good in your heart, she will raise you from the morass of the wicked.
She steps forward, bending towards them, her arm outstretched to pull them upright in a gesture of solidarity that spans worlds. "Arise."
He takes her hand, his breath hissing through his teeth at the bite of the arrow wound in his shoulder as he rises, struggling to stay even while supporting the child.
Purge your hearts of darkness.
Her grip is firm and steady, untired even after the hours she has spent in combat. Where he expects cold metal, he finds it is heated from within, her entire form exuding more warmth than any human.
"I am Boran," he says, voice more unsure than he likes. "I am a footsoldier. I fight for my new wife and unborn child. In Noxus, we must draw blood to be respected."
She cocks her head, intrigued. Those she judges worthy of life tend to simply run.
With a simple nod, she grasps his hand in a gesture she has learned over the past few years. It is unlike any greeting or acknowledgement from hers, but she thinks she likes it.
"I am Kayle."
He smiles hesitantly. "The Judicator, oh yes, I know of you. But where shall I go? This girl, my wife…I can't return home a coward. I'll be executed."
Or be consumed in holy fire, unending fervor.
Fire spills from her, engulfing them. He cries out, expecting his flesh to burn, but the flames sink into him. Flesh knits, new skin stretching to hide open muscle and bone. The girl's wounds seal as well, the color seeping back into her cheeks.
"Travel to Demacia," she murmurs, voice as warm as the flames burning above her head. "They are sure to accept you if you are refugees. Or Piltover. I do not think the just in those places shall turn you away."
She releases him, stepping back a polite distance to hover once again, wings churning the sand with slow, steady beats. "I will find your wife and transport her to you safely."
He blinks at her bemusedly, but bows gratefully, careful not to crush the still-unconscious child in his arms. "Thank you, Judicator."
He thinks he catches the brief glint of a small smile in the darkness shielding her features before she soars away, but he can't be sure.
Shaking his head tiredly, he slowly begins to trudge to the west, following the setting sun in search of a new life granted to him by one older than time.
...
It's been a long time since I've posted on this site. I used to be ; I am now ignis-ad-iudicem to match my Tumblr URL.
That is my Kayle RP blog, and I am mostly double-posting my drabbles here as a backup. If you enjoy, please come check out the rest of my threads/feel free to contact me about writing together!
Glad to be back. Might pick up some other fandom stuff again sometime.