𝙉𝙖𝙨𝙝

- had arrogance but this is a new low.”

“No legacy. No legacy. No legacy, is that it?”

Each repeat echoes with a louder intonation.

“You are truly no brother I recognize. ‘𝘕𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘤𝘺.’ You spit on our heritage and values with a smile on your face?

You’d burn down everything you worked for your ego? The brother I knew -

“And yet every day, I see more and more topsiders venture down here and insert themselves in my city. What gives you that right?”

“Do you recall us asking for your help? I certainly don’t.”

The mechanical iris flashes yellow.

“If memory serves, you came to us.”

"I don't care who you bed. I've seen it plenty of times. Topsider finds a lowly Zaunite to fawn after because they have such a big heart.

The sympathy rarely extends past their bedmate. Don't confuse the feelings. We don't need saviors."

ooc.

Sorry that Nash is such an ass. It's all ic. If it's ever too much, feel free to shoot me a DM.

"When some melodies and ivory keys start to grant sovereignty, I'll know where to go then."

"Unifying out of necessity is not the same. Do you think just because you saw some people die that you can understand what my people have gone through?"

"Oh, you regret it. That makes everything better then. Foolish me. Thanks."

"Bold words for someone who's donned the uniform."

"Trading one set of shackles for another. How revolutionary."

"I don't recall the Chem-barons getting into the market of community security."

▪︎ Head of House ▪︎
• Lady Kiramman•
— ~ An Excellent Shot ~ —

- didn’t even leave me a spot to even consider taking.”

“Your spot? What spot?”

There are no graves in Zaun. That’s the closest “ spot “ for his brother.

“You left nothing but a feast for scavengers. The Slickjaws hardly survive as even an afterthought. Divvied up amongst the remaining barons. Do you know how embarrassing that is? No legacy. You -

“Call a pig a boar. It’s still the same beast.”

“A broken clock is still right twice a day.”

“So desperate to be holy martyrs.”

“Stitches for a broken bone.

That’s what you all do.

The wrong solution for the obvious problem.”

“The brother I knew didn’t know how to pick the right fights either. Maybe you are him,” Nash scoffs, unperturbed.

“Your goading is as subtle as an earthquake.”

“You still have that punchable face of the brother I knew,” he shoots back.

“With the arrogance to match.”

“What friends in Piltover?”

Nash’s voice is incredulous; offended at even the concept of the idea. All it does is help cement the idea that whoever this person claims to be, it’s no one Nash recognizes.

“Surely not for Topside’s golden boy.”

His upper lip twitches. “That is what they say…isn’t it…”

“Parties? That’s all you do? Just drink your minds away to pretend like nothing has to happen? Is that it?”

“You’re saying magic brought you here?”

A skeptic scoff is the only reasonable response for that.

Behind long bangs, the light of his left eye flickers yellow as the eyelid over it narrows. The form of a heat signature makes him chew his tongue. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“I guess Mother was right. You do become an Azakana after death, brother,” he mutters.

“How’s demon life treating you? Would you happen to know what hallucinogen I took? And who did it to me?”