#solliium

[cryptbloomed]

from death, life.

cryptbloomed .

formerly solliium, revamped may 2024. an independent and selective multi-muse of original league of legends characters. maintained, with great inconsistency, by dismay. minors, dni.

➺  guidelines  ➺  muse list

character overview

primary

❥  misri, the oracle of ionia a soothsayer, a liar. a childhood stolen long before she could know innocence. an identity built on suffering and sanctuary.

❥  sarin, the spellblade a soldier, a charmer, an act of violence. the wrong thing said at the right time. an identity made of fallacies and bloodshed.

❥  ragni, the tundra's fury all tooth and claw, all bite and bark. the desire to protect as much as to harm. an identity carved by self doubt and passion.

❥  eydis, the cold touched sickly girl with her tired eyes and bird bone fingers. she would see the freljord crack apart in the search of something more. an identity unraveling with hope and hunger.

others

❥  tiphaine, the seamstress a checker in a game of chess. noxian strength and rakkoran resolve, undermined by her own bitter difference. an identity woven together by apathy and melancholy.

❥  anthelme, the possessed to want to pluck the bloodied pomegranate seeds from their husk without shame. a man who would grow bored of every life. an identity worn like a masquerade mask.

[moonlightviigil]

Aphelios felt a strange presence as he woke up from his sleep. Many eyes follow his every movement. Never had he felt so... off before.

@solliium

[withperfecttempo]

@solliium asked:  “I fear I’ll die a broken-hearted man. Or a hungry one, at the very least.” // from sarin !

[ Prompt list here ]

Amidst the bustle of the inn, chatter and raucous laughter of drunken men and women, shuffles of footsteps upon creaking wooden floors and furniture, Sona could hear the adjacent male’s voice quite clearly; much more so than his previous muttered ramblings. Audible grumbles would fly past his lips every time the keeper strides past him as if she was adamant on ignoring him; so Sona’s observations would tell her, it had been a lively night thus far and it would not die down anytime soon. Surprisingly, however, one of the cooks was quick to deliver Sona her meal despite arriving sometime after the other had based on his clear notes of agitation. She glances at her serving of vegetables and rice. A meager amount but enough she gathered would hold her for the evening and a part of the morning. 

Though she had journeyed for a time just as most patrons present, her observations make her uneasy that there is someone who had been waiting longer and who may have experienced worse hardships than she has. 

She turns to the stranger, her gaze shifting again to her plate. A reluctant hand reaches out for a moment before retracting, unsure if her contact would be welcomed at all. Still, her tapping against the wood closest to him seems as if it could easily be buried among the cacophony which surrounds them. Taking the plate in one hand, she inches towards the man with an outstretched hand and tapped his forearm. Once Sona confirms that he is aware of her approach, she extends the other arm bearing the food towards him. She nods towards him, the other hand now retreating to grasp the other side of the plate as she gestures for him to take it. Her regard towards him reflects an earnest yielding, holding to faith, alone, that he does not take it as a gesture of pity. Should he take up on her offer, she could ask for something else. The staff had been awfully attentive to her needs thus far.

[bismortem]

         ❛  there was a time we crossed paths with you over  &&  over  .  but you do not live on battlefields anymore  .  ❜  

              ❛    PERHAPS WE WILL MERELY PASS YOU BY AGAIN IF YOU HAVE A STORY THAT WILL AMUSE US THE WAY YOU ONCE DID  !!  ❜

                                       @solliium​            ( s.c. )

[legenddeathed]

starter for @solliium‘s misri as the kindred

Sometime in the future, someone dies. Someone always dies. Sometime in the future, the Kindred arrives. The Kindred always arrives. No matter the time, no matter the place, the Kindred is always. 

The Kindred hovers over the dead, Wolf’s maw stretching over the length of his face and Lamb’s fine hooves atop his chest. It is in the middle of guiding him on his hunt when, suddenly, its heads turn to stare. Inexplicably, Wolf grins wide. 

“Haha,” he says, voice like rumbling thunder, “ah, fleshling. You are peeking, yes? Is this what you wanted to see?” 

[ncumenia-archived]

has ernye or anyone else ever played connect the dots with her freckles or used them to make up or match constellations? when she was a kid, did she get told any stories (like why they appeared in a mythos sense) about her freckles? like "well u have a constellation under your skin and all those freckles are the STARS"

// In my hcs, among Targonians it’s believed those who have freckles, moles or similar have been kissed by the stars, and therefore it’s an appreciated feature among them, and I actually believe it’s pretty common some folks even “fake” them (Basically using the same method used by people like makeup artists).

It’s basically impossible getting bullied for having them (Rather, you sound like a misfortune bringer person), and Targonians really appreciate when they receive compliments for their freckles, and some of them even melt when you tell them they look like the night sky (Especially Lunari) On another note, it’s even believed they’ll be more skilled in subjects like math, astronomy, and clairvoyance, and more keen to take the priesthood/holy road (Nina actually studied to be a Lunari priestess since she was a teen, for example)

Regarding “connecting the dots”, some tattoos on her skin are actually some real constellations made by connecting her mole/freckles, this why they believe they will enhance one’s powers, and some freckled (?) people are used as a canvas by tattooists in order to practice even more, since it’s a very important ritual tattooing priests or warriors (They use temporary ink, in that case)

[vulpesse-arc]

A languid oscillation of fur-coated appendages, the jitter of large ears and the settling of aureate gaze ‘pon him whilst a thousand queries waltz on the edge of her saccharine tongue. How many boundaries can she surpass, before her PUERILE CURIOSITY turns into rude insolence  ?  Her previously relaxed demeanor thus partially stiffens, weight is shifted from one foot to the other whilst her hands come to graciously fold behind her proudly arched back  ;  the glimmer in her eyes cannot be hidden or extinguished and as her lips fall ajar, she ensures to varnish her voice with the sweetest of honeysuckle.   ❝  What’s your STORY  ?  ❞

STARTER CALL !  ♡  @solliium​​ ( Sarin ) . 

[lawfulbullets]

" goodness, o f f i c e r. didn't you know being so beautiful is illegal? " from verain too

“You are absolutely correct. However, I have a deal running with the Wardens.

You, however, are under arrest now. You have the right to remain silent.”

[clawleader]

@solliium​​:  ​❝ i hear you, loud and clear. ❞ // from ragni

❛   Good.   ❜   Sejuani  praises,  the  slight  growl  in  her  voice  an  indicator  that  she  is  genuinely  pleased.  She  juts  the  shovel  she  is  holding  into  the  snow  &  leans  a  bit  of  her  weight  down  on  it,  looking  at  the  other  all  the  while.   ❛   Go  help  over  there.  They  could  use  another  hand.   ❜   She  continues,  gesturing  towards  a  nearby  group  of  tribesmen  in  the  middle  of  setting  up  a  tent.

The  five  senses    /  /    Not  accepting.

[herbounty]

@solliium​:  “ have you no decency ? “ // from verain (  random questions : accepting )

standing before the other , the bounty hunter`s face was covered in ichor . a body is the only thing between herself and the man . sarah has always been someone that enjoyed seeing others faces to the mess she makes when hunting , and it`s always the same damn questions . ( have you no decency ? do you not have morals ? what if someone saw you ? ) cerulean optics rolled as a twisted smile came across her face . she became an infamous bounty hunter for specific reasons , and one of them is not giving a damn about the life of the people she hunts . there`s a reason why people place bounties on others , and she doesn`t give a damn about the background of why ; all she cares about is the money .

with her index finger , she wiped the blood from her lower lip and slowly licked the crimson liquid from the tip of her finger . she bared her pearly white teeth as her tongue licked over them . a wink was given to the other before she spoke .  ———  ❛    no , i don`t . would you care to teach me what having decency is like ?    ❜  her lips curled into a small pout before flashing a twisted smile again . sarah does not have a single bone in her body that can make her care about the people she hunts . does she understand that some of the have families ? yes . but does she really care about the damage she`s causing ? not really .

[blessercoeur]

‘ there will always be another day ’ // from tiphaine!

POETRY PROMPTS || (Accepting.)

She huffed. 

Typical, wasn’t it? To prolong someone’s wants and needs. She’d have stayed more neutral if this was indeed only about her, though judging by her scowl, it was clear it wasn’t. 

It frankly made her blood boil.

“ Another day will be one more day filled with suffering and no changes. It already has been too many days, and I’m sick of seeing people suffer and die for nothing. ”

[shantytown-haint]

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” // from verain, said with utmost sarcasm

“Verian, you sad, sorry, sack of shit, when I get outta this fuckin’--” Fucking what? Mangled situation she found herself in? Leg and limb scattered about to wherever gods know what direction from only gods know what cause?

“...When I get my leg back, I’m goin’ shove my boot right up your ass.”

[withperfecttempo]

@solliium asked:  " you can hear other people's - " sarin pauses, pipe tapping against the air as he searches for the word that fits " - souls. " he regards sona, waits for any sort of confirmation before he continues. " but what of your own? what does it sound like? "

It is not a question, rather, a statement. If there is anything that could describe how Sona connects and draws inspiration from the people, their emotions and experience, it is what Sarin had just spoken. A comment tied and anchored by the final, well-thought and placed word, souls. Every being emits a distinct aura. One can often pick up on the slightest hues of it when being within their proximity by doing something as simple as sitting next to them on a bench. Influenced by external and internal elements, the soul is in constant motion; perpetually fluid as it shapeshifts. Sona could only take in so much from a person, from any person; what they may tell her, what they do, how their expressions and voices fluctuate when speaking about different things, or how they take in the world which surrounds them. No two are ever the same. 

‘That is a way to place it,’ she nearly chuckles but an intrigued smile illuminates her visage. ‘Ah...no, I cannot. I suppose with my music, I wish to create something that everyone can enjoy along with finding comfort, something they can relate to in some way without too much. I cannot quite put it into words but I think that one can find joy in something such as watching a bird return to its nest at sunset.’

Sona’s face softens at the thought. She recalls how she would watch the birds so often come afternoon at the monastery. The sounds of children laughing at running about in the distance while she becomes lost in the warm, watercolored skies until she spots the birds tearing through her line of vision; gliding through the air as the day nears its end and they return to their families.Her brows lift and frame her widening eyes at Sarin’s inquiry. She blinks as she musters any bit of thought at hand she may have but could not come up with an adequate answer for she has not thought it of it, perhaps for too long.

 ‘Mine? Myself?’

Sona searches the heavens as her lips draw into a thoughtful pout. Her hands cup her knees, sliding upward towards her thighs against the smooth fabric of her skirt. With that, her gaze descends, staring ahead at nothing particular while she holds onto any idea what her soul may sound like to another. A matter of self-perception and overall reflection. Sona soon wonders if it is because she has always been occupied with looking for inspiration in others and nature that she does not delve too deeply into herself. 

Through war and prejudice, shifting tides that brought her from one home to another, it almost feels as though she has never had adequate rest. Through each struggle she endured, there was a likeness in what she had experienced in Ionia and Demacia. There was something familiar about these strangers, like her. Two worlds that had been overturned and transformed but they all were a part of her; one family and one home. The stark differences in language, cultures, struggles that each nation suffered, Sona has felt the hurt with them as well. And with every aspect clashing against one another, she still makes music that bring people together and steadily they become unafraid to listen; such were her hopes that they can find oneness in something intrinsic to the heart.

‘A cacophony that still tries to make sense of itself through harmony.’

[bladesurgence]

what kind of pastries or candy does irelia like? does she cook or bake?

Irelia prefers baked sweets over candy. In Ionia there’s this thing called ensaymada which is a pastry with butter and cheese, and curry pies / empanada variants that differ by region. Those are probably her favorites. Through trade with Piltover and exposure to their culture there’s also their fare share of danishes, croissants, etc, and if she’s going to be doing office work in the Placidium she’ll often buy any of these for breakfast.

Although she likes pastries, her little culinary experience is with cooking rather than baking. She rarely did much with bread during wartime - she’s more familiar working with meat and vegetables so she cooks simple dishes for herself.

[legenddeathed]

' One needs to find tiny acts of rebellion where one can. ' / from tiphaine, for swain

open meme

Beatrice caws ominously from Jericho’s shoulder and flaps her wings, displeased. Rebel, rebel, rebel! Jericho’s expression is unreadable as he grips the fabric in a bony fist for inspection. 

“I suppose the tedium of tailoring would indeed numb the unoccupied mind.” Beady red eyes sweep from the rich cloth to Tiphaine. “Even enough such that one finds rebellion in hemming.” 

Sharply, Jericho drops the garment back onto the table. “The trim and stitching will be done to my instruction without fantasies of rebellion or liberties.” 

[ncumenia-archived]

|| continuing from ☾ || || @solliium [Ragni] || The raspy voice of the young man made her leap on the place, not to mention his awkward joke about the ice which, ironically, was quite common on Targon. After all, the Peak had perfectly preserved so many people who attempted to reach for the Gods, only to brutally fail and meet their fate in the cold. «Uh... Yes. The ice preserves things very well, in Targon there’s plenty of it, especially on the sacred Peak. I suppose you know that place, right?» Ernye inquired the strange, now focusing on his attire and manners, wondering where he could be from. A Freljordian, maybe? It could be the possible answer to her query. Then, she slowly cocked her head to the left in curiosity. «Where are you from? You look like a mountain man, and you remind me of Rakkors.»