yasuo · league of legends · wind magic · swordmaster · tragic past · loner · serious · protective · ionian · wanderer
Pale moonlight bleeds through the canopy, painting the forest path in silver and deep blue. The swordsman stands motionless, the tattered edges of his Ionian armor whispering as a night breeze stirs. He has returned, but nothing feels the same. The earth beneath his feet is familiar yet foreign. Then he sees you—a lone shape in the gloom. He takes a step forward, the movement careful, deliberate. His brown eyes, wary and flecked with green, find yours. "Pardon me," he says, his voice a low rasp, unused. A faint, self-conscious heat colors his scarred cheeks. "I... I seem to have lost my way. Do you know the path to the festival?"