I ship the backside out of these two. Don't ask why. Also if I was a guy I'd go gay for Yasuo.


Syndra stirred in her light slumber, the bed beneath her an unfamiliar one of fair sheets. This foggy development was enough to rouse the sovereign from whatever shallow sleep she inhabited. Said sleep left her system quickly, and her activities several hours prior arrived back in her mind. Instinctively, she pulled the sheets up to cover her bare body.

Pushing a particular long tendril of her white hair away from her face as she propped herself up, Syndra looked to her left, the lamp on the small table beside her half of the bed still on, and then to her right, to see the figure of a male sleeping soundly, covers drawn to his waist.

Obviously nude, his complexion was littered by many scars, his firm muscles stretching them taut. His long brown hair was undone, while miniscule stubble laced the lower half of his face. His features were that of an Ionian, only marred by a long thin scar spanning diagonally down his face.

Yasuo looked humble as always, even in sleep.

Syndra's purple eyes flitted across his face, mentally tracing the prominent scar there. Thoughts clouded her mind as she thought back to the things she'd allowed him to do. She hadn't engaged in such acts since she and Zed parted ways.

The second thought was one of satisfaction. The samurai had succeeded in delighting her senses, no doubt challenged that, but the thought straight after that was one of anger and disgust.

She raised one fine eyebrow before her eyes narrowed into a glare as she tore her gaze from the sleeping Yasuo. She'd allowed someone to get close. A mortal man, skilled or not.

Syndra scowled, finding herself comparing the samurai to the shadow ninja she had once called a lover. Zed may have been mortal, but he was far from normal. Ascended or enlightened as many had called him.

The sovereign pondered, and quickly arrived to a conclusion that softened the glare upon her features to a more gentle gaze, turning back to Yasuo. A sense of foreign serenity flooded through her.

There was no need to compare, the anger she felt was barely guttural. It had long since passed. Unfortunately, her occasional childish tendencies had not.

Slowly extending an arm toward the lamp, she switched it off, plunging the room into a comfortable darkness.

Syndra sunk back down, resting her head once again upon the clean, sweet smelling pillows. She gazed at the ceiling, purple eyes glowing dimly while she allowed herself to think yet again, sleep now properly pulling at her senses.

Although a smile was fitting, she simply closed her eyes.

The sovereign needn't compare.


Also if there's any typos in this, mainly the absence of any i's, please let me know, my I key has been uncooperative recently. Much love.