[ Psychic. Silco knew little of them, beyond what fairy tales he'd read Jinx when she was younger, or what fantasies people spoke of. There were always tales of such things, but they did not exist on Runeterra. (Or rather, in Silco's limited scope, as a poor piece of filth from Zaun, he knew not of them.) He knew, however, to be wary, and it's clear, with the wry smile on his face, as he says: ]
Going to read my mind, then, are you?
[ He goaded him, taunted him. Dared him to do so as he thought of why children like this would deserve kindness over the children of Zaun. Silco had grown up mining, a child laborer in the fissures where he'd learned to smuggle, and grasped to someone else to support him -- supported each other -- as they fought to work themselves out of mining and working away for their betters above, smuggling, founding the lanes, and then -- betrayal hot and white, filled with seething anger and fury.
Why did he hate these children, who were simply handed a future they did not deserve? Why did he hate any of these individuals, these other Zenites, Meridian, and unharmonized who deigned to waste the opportunity they were given?
Silco wanted to burn it all down because he was jealous, hated it, because these children didn't deserve a future Jinx didn't have, a shard though she was. That this man decided his should have friends just spoke to weakness. Friends betrayed. A lesson this kid would clearly not learn, and clearly would have no hardness to deal with.
He could not imagine a childhood so soft, had not offered a childhood that soft to Jinx, either. She was too strong to be wasted like that. ]
Perhaps as the greatest psychic, I'll leave that as a mystery for you to find out. I'm sure it will not take long, hm? I have not been quiet about where I come from, or what my past was like.
Not all of us get the opportunity of a future, and have to fight for the mere possibility.
[ How long would he have lived, in the mines? Scrawny, and small? If he had been left to wither away under Piltover's thumb? His hands still held the scars from injuries and cuts, his face a patchwork of more scars all over -- excluding the most obvious, the one that rippled underneath a heavy coat of makeup -- the man had held a hard life, even if he used derision and honeyed words to pretend it was less so. ]
no subject
Going to read my mind, then, are you?
[ He goaded him, taunted him. Dared him to do so as he thought of why children like this would deserve kindness over the children of Zaun. Silco had grown up mining, a child laborer in the fissures where he'd learned to smuggle, and grasped to someone else to support him -- supported each other -- as they fought to work themselves out of mining and working away for their betters above, smuggling, founding the lanes, and then -- betrayal hot and white, filled with seething anger and fury.
Why did he hate these children, who were simply handed a future they did not deserve? Why did he hate any of these individuals, these other Zenites, Meridian, and unharmonized who deigned to waste the opportunity they were given?
Silco wanted to burn it all down because he was jealous, hated it, because these children didn't deserve a future Jinx didn't have, a shard though she was. That this man decided his should have friends just spoke to weakness. Friends betrayed. A lesson this kid would clearly not learn, and clearly would have no hardness to deal with.
He could not imagine a childhood so soft, had not offered a childhood that soft to Jinx, either. She was too strong to be wasted like that. ]
Perhaps as the greatest psychic, I'll leave that as a mystery for you to find out. I'm sure it will not take long, hm? I have not been quiet about where I come from, or what my past was like.
Not all of us get the opportunity of a future, and have to fight for the mere possibility.
[ How long would he have lived, in the mines? Scrawny, and small? If he had been left to wither away under Piltover's thumb? His hands still held the scars from injuries and cuts, his face a patchwork of more scars all over -- excluding the most obvious, the one that rippled underneath a heavy coat of makeup -- the man had held a hard life, even if he used derision and honeyed words to pretend it was less so. ]