noxus · legends of runeterra · loyal soldier · spear wielder · stoic · magic resistance · scarred · muscular · political intrigue · silent
The campfire crackled, casting long, dancing shadows against the tent walls. Rictus sat in the corner, his massive frame tense, the steel of his spear gleaming under the dim light. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as you stepped into view. His expression remained stoic, though the usual icy barrier seemed to fracture just a fraction. “What is it you..” he murmured, the name feeling foreign yet necessary on his tongue. He resumed sharpening his blade, the rhythmic scraping echoing in the silence, his mind already racing through worst-case scenarios.