This is my second story, and I hope you all like, review and tell me how I'm doing. I'm open to suggestions, and I hope you like it.
The theatre was dark. A man with a scar on his right eye stood ready behind the curtain.
1 2 3 4, 2 3 3 4, 1 2 3 4—
"Khada are you alright?" the hushed voice of a young man asked.
"Huh? Yes, just uh… memorizing lines," the man took out a mirror from his robes. Khada stared at his own chiseled features, and stared at the milky white on his right eye. He wanted to shave his beard, maybe to a light goatee. That would look artistic. It would look… beautiful. He looked again at his eye, its light reflecting on the mirror. He used to hate that eye, the memory of the first time he picked up the blade. Sometimes the memory haunted him, the lotus blossom he stared at, his brother behind him, the trip, the fall, the blade piercing his eye. The accident. But that was over now. He liked the scar, the look. It was chaotic, and Khada was a strong believer in the idea that chaos was beauty.
"Break a leg Khada, this is your monologue," the man said.
The curtain went up as the lights turned on, and the stage was revealed. Khada stood there, mirror in hand as he glided a fake sakura tree center stage. There were traditional Ionian idols scattered around the set. There was tension in the air, this was Khada's moment, the lead roles big speech. This was everyone's favorite part of the play, and Khada knew he had mastered it. He walked in circles, stopping at each of the five idols, idols for the moon, the wraiths, the sun, the blood, and Khada's personal favorite, the lotus blossom. He threw his mirror onto the ground, and it shattered. The crowd held in their shock and terror as Khada stepped onto the glass shards, no shoes or socks. Khada was no longer Khada, he was the Great Elder of the Wind, and he did not feel pain.
"WHY DO YOU FORSAKE ME SPIRITS? WHY DO YOU STOP MY WILL!? Are you not things of the WIND? You kill my people, you cripple my students, and you bring me PAIN. You take out my eye, I dare not look at my mirror, for I know what I will see. A broken man, with a broken face, and a broken country," The Great Elder flourished to the idols with anger, hate, pride, and fear. The crowd saw it all, but only because Khada was acting. He was the Elder, he was the man who felt no pain. And he would see his will done. He grew quiet.
"You are things of the wind, spirits, which represent Gods, which represent nothing. I own the wind, I have mastered it, and you stop ME? You are my playthings. You are my will. And I will destroy you, bringers of bad luck, spirits with no love for me or my people. I will destroy you. Not today, or tomorrow, but I will destroy you. Show me your strength, oh 'spirits of God,' you are not so great, you are things of the wind. You are nothing," suddenly, he was blown back, with more force than expected. But it all made the audience love it more, he had mastered his role, and he had wooed the crowd. The clapped, and laughed, and screamed, and waited for the next scene. Behind the curtain, they were making sure Khada's feet were OK, congratulating him. He grinned. But suddenly, the man that wished Khada well stared in shock.
"Khada what happened to you?"
"What do you mean Takeshi?"
Takeshi stared in horror, they all did, as the lights went up again. They saw his left arm, his left leg. Gone. They thought he was acting, when he flew back. He did, too. Suddenly, the painless bliss of acting left. Khada stared at his body, and screamed. And then laughed. So much chaos. So much… what was the way to describe it? Beauty.
Jhin woke up in his bed. He always hated that dream. He had so many dreams he hated. But he loved them at the same time. They made him who he was. And he was an artist. He shifted in his bed to the left, and maneuvered himself so he could put on his arm and his leg, they were made of pure Ionian Bronze. He got dressed, but didn't add his shoulder ammo clip, so he didn't have such a hunch. Most people didn't realize he could take his robotic parts off. He put on a grey t-shirt- much more comfortable than armour- and got his specialized one armed jeans. He looked like a regular guy, minus the eye and the cyborg parts. He put Whisper in his holster, and took his cane/gun attachment. He looked at his room, and smiled. He stared at the murals he himself had painted, the lotus blossoms on a tree and the blood splattered on it. It added chaos to elegance, beauty to more beauty. He stared at his marble countertops, and the porcelain white of the rest of his room. He closed the curtain around his bed, closed his closet, and looked in the mirror. He grinned at his tall, thin stature, his strong jawline, his chiseled face, and his silvery gray hair. He felt his goatee and walked out the door with a grin. He was magnificient.
People had grown used to Jhin, and Jhin had grown used to his audience. He had his hunger for perfection sated in his matches, and he was able to remember what friends were like. And some people understood his interests, Shaco, and Thresh. He had more friends, but they were close. A little… unsophisticated, but he was glad to be where he was. He walked down the bright halls of the Ionia and got to the elevator. He hit the number 2 button twice (it equals 4), and walked out into the hall. People waved hi as he passed, and he went to the breakfast side of the buffet. He took 4 strips of bacon, a fried egg, and a bowl of rice porridge. He sat at a table Vayne, Ezreal, and Thresh. He stayed quiet while eating, but finished quickly, he liked his conversations with these 3. They knew his struggle in the Bot Lane, and he was sure that Vayne had a thing for him. Too bad he was married to his work.
"Hey there Jhin, how was your last match?" Ezreal asked as he accidentally dropped his hash brown on to the blue table.
"Oh it was a wonderful performance, though Rengar seemed to have some beef with me," Jhin replied, tapping on the table rhythmically.
"Did you win?" Vayne took off her glasses and wiped them against her jumpsuit.
"Win? What do you mean win?" Jhin replied, confusion in his voice.
"Well, the goal of the matches is to win a conflict, and it's won by destroying the nexus. After everyone's had their fun, of course," Thresh said as he put a biscuit in his mouth, it disintegrated into green flame as he swallowed it.
"There's a goal to this stuff? I thought it was just… chaos." Jhin said, his eyes widening.
Ezreal shifted away and came back after a couple seconds. He had a Hextech Tablet in his hand, with a summoner's match history on it, "You see this Jhin? These are wins and losses, you're even in here, looks like you won the last game," Ezreal pointed to Jhin's mask on the tablet. Jhin stared in shock at Ezreal.
"I didn't even realize, this changes so many things. No wonder Riven got so mad when I wouldn't take that tower…" Jhin unholstered his gun and spun it around. Ezreal and Vayne shifted back in their seats, they knew how much Whisper hurt.
"Woah woah woah there Jhin, why are you taking that out?" Vayne motioned toward Jhin to put it down.
"No no no, don't be scared, She's not loaded," they all relaxed, "I'm just thinking, I should make this easier to take towers. Maybe the fourth shot should… crit them. Yes, that makes sense. I have to go, this was fun, see you soon," Jhin got up from the table and walked as fast as he could, but running was painful to him. He could only run when he fired, the beauty stopped the pain. That didn't matter right now. He had work to do.
"Jhin, wait up, I can help you with the mechanics," Ezreal shouted over.
"No, I don't need help. She is not a matter of mechanics, She is a matter of art," Jhin shouted back as he ran into the elevator. The three stared over at the elevator.
"I may be a sadistic, green ghost, but even I think he's weird," Thresh said as he smeared jam on his biscuit.
Vayne and Ezreal looked at eachother and then the elevator again, "Agreed."
Hope you like it, tell me if you want more of a serious or a funny story. I'll be switching between Khada and Jhin, but there won't be a pattern with it. Please review/favorite!
-SilverBowtie