HELLO SORRY ALL I HAVE BEEN AWAY BECAUSE I COULDN'T WRITE LMAO.
I own nothing, only the story and my OC- Everything else is Riot's. (Hate you stupid company stop being a relevant game, I'm addicted.)
So yeah, I rewrite this chapter since I was greatly inspired by the new Runeterra map and League lore, it really opened my imagination and I got plans to one day scrap the whole Institute idea and catch up with the recent lore.
At first I was very afraid of posting a romance of Darius x OC since a lot of authors do it way better *cough* Prisoner of War *cough* But then I thought why the hell not. Enjoy!
O
He watched as the head dropped, bouncing upon the Captain's knee, it rolled with its eyes drawn upwards, bloody and clean-cut neck glazed over already soiled ground. Darius gripped his axe in rigid might, his teeth seethed in anger. The air cooled momentarily about him and with a war cry his fervour infected soldiers in the vicinity, entangling with fear, bewilderment – or both.
The tide of the battle turned ravaged in Darius' swift command, leading an imbued hundred double on a collision course into Demacian fray.
Under the monotone dusk of battle, a newly formed Captain and unit belted blood curdling roars as axe to sword clink, flesh and bone rip, they moved savagely as a newly formed elite force.
Demacian blood spat rightfully on the Legion's dark grey armour, the acting augment of their brute strength.
Darius' face was stern, in closer vicinity you could feel the emanating heat of his form. He wished to mirror the same scalding heat of the day he ascended as the commander of the elite Trifarian Legion. Where a Demacian's mouth moved in dislocated 'O' shapes and not blathering at him about petty Institute rabble. Minuscule round spectacles bounced between scrolls, its owner in constant murmur and mutual neglect of the Demacian scholar. Who, by size and voice alone, Darius fully dwarfed.
The Commander's fingers began to tap incessantly on marble table, a digit also pressed his temple. Irked as he was, Darius remained attentive to the council's discussion.
"-I respect the Institute's intents… Yet my voice still stands. Demacian healing wards are to remain in great distance of opposing factions." The scrawny councillor concluded. Darius now willingly listened.
He scoffs at this, drawing the attention of the councillors, "Respect you will, councillor. The Institute do not play favours on their grounds." His musky voice lingered in the chamber, prompting a young woman to clear her throat.
"Favours or not, current resources are devoted to the fortification of the Fields of Justice." The Institute councillor started, "Healing wards are underway for extensions, thus- All city-states rest under one roof subsequently." The stoic man finalized, stood and left without further regard to the council. Darius followed with similar disregard and briefly observe the persisting city-state emissaries who stood defeated, though bound for their respective exits.
Stepping out he is met by a member of his elite Legion, whose thinner and longer axe thrummed at the butt. Formalities aside, they began to pace past the council's meagre audience. Past the Healers of the Institute, the trio of champions whose healing abilities are sought out faithfully by both the netizens of Runeterra and residents of the Institute. Many have come far to visit the Institute solely for their healing prowess.
Amongst the trio is the Rune Mage, his lorn appearance quickly interrupted by a woman hooded and half a step behind the mage. A quick whisper exchanged between them and Darius could have sworn the Mage glanced his way. Before shadowing the Mage, the woman took care not to collide with the burly Noxian in her path.
For a moment, her head turned to Darius. As though curious of the Commander, she revealed more than she needed to when he catches a quick glimpse of her brown orbs. An action which she reacted to, and unbeknownst to him, pushed her faster on Ryze's heels.
Darius grew accustomed to the alarm emboldened by his stature both politically and physically. Such a fruitless interaction should not permit second thoughts. But as he contemplates, has the Rune Mage ever bore a second glance? After all, he exhibited raw human power. Devoid of magical interest for the Mage. These fleeting actions were mundane, yet even he could not reign a feeling of unease about the Institute just from a small exchange of looks.
Scowling to himself, Darius wondered how much he had pondered over nothing as the entry to the battlegrounds appeared a stride or two before him. Without further reflection, the imposing Darius enters the battle through towering gates.
Eventually, the five champions launch in quick blurred flashes to the battlefield. Then tremors follow, slight and unnoticed quick succession of pulses emanate, from below and at the walls that harbour powerful magic in containment of the Rift.
O
At the Institute's archives stood Nasus, suddenly attentive to his surroundings. "Something is… amiss." Said Nasus, ears twitched to every rumble only he could hear from afar. Across his lunar shaped desk, Ryze rose as the Curator did. He exhaled, then inhaled, honing his perceptive ability, to compensate what he lacked in good hearing, with arcane magic.
Alarmed of his discovery, the runes that clad the Mage responded with equivalent pulses. Trickles of bright-purple auroras travelled his body, eventually they fizzled outwards- leaving Ryze in grimace.
Hope you guys liked it, I still don't know much about how things work in the Institute so I'm just eyeballing it lmfao. LIKE WHO CARES I WANNA WRITE THE DAMN STORY I CAN JUST CLEAN UP LATER RIGHT HAHAHAHAHA