The Show Must Go On

((So, I was listening to Jhin's theme on repeat (because it's goddamn amazing) and I decided to get inside his head a little. This is the result from that. My friends liked it so much that they convinced me to put it up here. So, I hope you enjoy it!))

Step after step I take down the path of stone that lies before me. I see the world around me through the filter of truth; the mask all wear. This world is so bleak, so colorless. The silence is deafening. My fingers brush against my instrument. I must perform. The stage is set. The script is written. Yet I have no performers. A burst of color attracts my gaze. There. A woman. Her face etched a mask of tragedy. Pearls cascade down the mask, shattering into millions of tiny pieces as they strike the stone beneath her. I have found a partner. This tableau is so tasteful that I shudder. I must immortalize this illustration. Bang The woman collapses, her mask frozen. The pearls continue to fall. Rubies intermingle, and join the deluge.

Beautiful.

She lies, reaching for the heavens. I stand above her. I complete my masterpiece with a final stroke of my brush. The show must go on. I must find another partner. The bleakness of this world disgusts me, yet it is the driving force behind my work. I need it, as it needs I. Another blank canvas catches my eye. A nobleman, serene and silent. This particular melody will have to end in a crescendo. I assemble my tool of artistry. I look through the lens of creation, and the picture forms in my mind. I pull the shutter. Bang _My Whisper finds his ear. A rose blooms on his head. Its petals scatter onto the stone. _

Perfect.

I take a moment and bask in the glory of perfection. A sour note ruins my enjoyment. Ionian officers. They do not appreciate my art. Their simple minds only witness murder and chaos. I laugh at their allegations of illegality. True art is bound by no laws. They cannot see. I will open their eyes. They draw their own sad instruments. We dance. Their movements mimic virtuosity, but they have no soul. This dance is my forte. I know every step. I take center stage. My wrist purls. The explosive dances in the air. A symphony of light and sound are a blessing to my ears. The officers’ scream is a harmony. I will make them hear me. I Whisper. _ **“I will make you know true art.”** Bang Scarlet desire bursts from an officer’s heart. **“I will make you a masterpiece.”** Bang Another officer performs an elegant arabesque and ends his ballet forever. **“I will make you beautiful.”_** Bang I paint the third officer’s canvas a vivid red. The last officer turns from my performance. He tries to abandon his role. Little does he know that he is still playing his part. It is time for the curtain call. A stroke of my finger ushers in the grand finale.

“I will make you perfect.”

Bang