#Garen imagines

[goldnhourwrites]

just had a dream i was dating shieda kayn. should i start going to therapy

[hextechmaturgy]

arcane season 2 is only out in like 8 months but i'm already seeing content for it and it just reminds me how nervous i am for what's to come. i know they're butchering my favorites oh i just know it man

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 15 - The Chariot

summary : fiora hosts a party during which reader starts feeling all sorts of new things. between game strategies and open heart conversations, things are starting to look brighter

content warnings : none, werewolf (aka mafia), seven minutes in heaven, heart to heart conversation, omg they're touching hands, jealous viktor if you squint

word count : 14.8k

author's note : oof, biggest chap so far! we've officially exceeded the epic length in terms of wordcount, and the slowburn is finally starting to spark a bit hihi. i'm scared y'all will get bored with the game parts OOPSIE but yea i hope y'all will like it nevertheless!

proofread the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

masterlist．．discord ．．playlist．．my ko-fi

The rest of your stay went much better than you could have imagined. You were undertaking visits, each more friendly and educational than the last, discovering customs and foods, and having a great time that would leave good memories in their wake.

Like when Sky recited phrases in a strong Demacian accent to you, giving credit to Demacia and its imposing stature, or when Jayce made a fool of himself by pronouncing ‘croum de la cram�� wrong again while eating a cream puff in front of a waiter.

Fiora had seemed to slow down her charms towards Viktor on a grand scale, although she still gave him the nickname ‘Vikkie’, which made him roll his eyes to the sky as he searched for you and uttered ‘kill me’ with mute lips.

You always smiled at him when this happened, amused, his eyes resting on you, making you feel all odd. As the days went by, despite the fact that Fiora stayed largely with him and you with Garen, you couldn't help looking for him, lowering your gaze or pretending to look away whenever his eyes crossed yours.

As another day out came to an end and you found yourself in bed, lights out and ready to sleep, you were thinking about it for a long time.

There was this strange urge growing inside you, and you couldn't work out what it was. You kept feeling the heat on the back of your neck as well as on your cheeks as you thought back to all the moments of your close proximity. And that warmth in your belly, that strange, light, fuzzy sensation that persisted in his presence. Why did you feel that way?

Perhaps you were allergic to something Viktor had on him, and you were having a physical reaction to it? 

When you had drunk his coffee where his lips had rested, your whole body had warmed up in the same way after all. He didn't seem to apply any lip balm or add anything to his coffee that might have caused you to have such a reaction, so you ruled that out.

Did he have a particular perfume whose ingredients made you react badly? You remembered the masquerade and his coat, and although it didn't leave any physical traces on you, it did leave slightly stronger inner impressions.

In the wood of his cane, perhaps? Maybe the varnish of the wood or the metal of the knob gave you a bad reaction. But you'd hardly ever used it, the rare occasions being when you'd hit Tyler with it, and when you'd handed it to him after he'd picked you up from your fall in the library - even if some of your symptoms had started at that moment.

Or maybe you were just homesick, maybe the air or the food made you react badly, maybe the petricite was more unpleasant than you thought. However, this idea would have meant suggesting that you had an arcane source inside you, and if that were the case, it would have been pointless since it had never saved you from anything where it could have proved useful.

You replayed the moment of the museum over and over in your mind, the feeling of realisation that he had drawn you towards him with a deft movement of his cane going to your head. You could still imagine the warmth of his hand on your hip, of his eyes on you as they rested on your lips.

You turned in your bed with a grunt of frustration as your chest warmed at the thought of it, burying your face in your pillow. What was happening to you? He wasn't even in the damned room, and yet these symptoms were perfectly awake and persistent. Yet you didn't see him any more than that. 

A routine had set in. Whenever you came back from a class trip, it was his custom to go and rest in his room, away from more walking and to escape Fiora's presence.

Demacia, all white and glorious, didn't seem to have any great inclination towards accessibility. Its cities were built on mountainsides where bridges and domes overlapped over vast, empty, flat expanses. You never got lost, though, as the streets were never narrow and the view was always unobstructed.

It was almost a little frightening, leaving no room for anyone to hide or escape, whatever the situation.

From most angles, Demacia wasn't suitable for everyone, and the lack of benches in the streets for people to sit on, for example, was backed up by the need for an athletic society and sporting encouragement.

So it wasn't surprising that Viktor was keen to get some rest, as you yourself would end your days out on the town tired beyond belief. You hoped his naps were restorative, even if sleep couldn't cure all ills.

Your own sleep came late that night, your thoughts returning incessantly and inevitably to him.

In the early hours of the morning, what finally woke you up was someone knocking on your door. With a grunt, you rolled over in bed, hoping that the idiot who had just knocked would go away.

The knock came again, a sigh from behind the door. "You in there Piltie girl?"

Why did the first voice you had to listen to this morning have to be Fiora's? You turned to face the door, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Come in," you replied in a voice all hoarse with sleep.

So she entered, energetic and judgmental as ever. The room was dark except for a small nightlight on your bedside table.

"You're still asleep?" she asked, almost mockingly, as she strode over to the blackout curtains in the bedroom and yanked them open.

You pressed the heel of your palms against your eyes, clearing the sleep crusts and sniffling as the sun penetrated your room and slapped your body with its light.

"Why, did I oversleep?" you questioned as you finally lowered your hands to your legs, crossing them.

She squinted her eyes at your face. "You're so ugly when you wake up."

"And you're an asshole all day long, to each his own," you winced as you planted your feet on the floor, the fresh flagstone floor unpleasant and just making you want to crawl back under your blanket and fall back asleep in the warmth of your bed.

"Look at that," Fiora chuckled, "Miss Phathe's not a morning person, who'd have thought it."

The mere mention of Selene's name between her lips made you want to strangle her. "Continue putting dirt on my name and you'll end up at your own funeral," you replied before heading for the bathroom. "You're just one bad day away from being me anyway."

"You know," you heard her giggle as she followed you, leaning in the doorway as she watched you go through your morning routine, "for a Piltie, you sure have a way with comebacks."

"That is because I'm not a Piltie," you replied as you tended to your hair.

"Really?" she questioned, surprised. "What are you then?"

You considered answering her for a moment. There was only today and tomorrow left when you would leave in the evening and arrive in Piltover the following night.

"Zaunite," you finally replied as you picked up your toothbrush, squeezing your tube of toothpaste mechanically, "but from where? Not sure."

She arched an eyebrow as you began to brush your teeth. "Explains the poor taste in everything."

"Explains the sword up your ass," you managed to articulate.

She giggled, smiling into the mirror as she watched you for a moment. It wasn't a look of expectation that you'd screw something up, more a look of consideration.

"You know," she began, "prettying yourself up wouldn't be that complicated."

You huffed, spitting into the sink. "Why would I need it?"

"Not saying you need it," she corrected, "I'm saying it'd be fun."

"Never took much attention to it anyway," you sighed before returning your toothbrush to your mouth, "I'm not trying to charm anyone."

Her eyes rolled up to the sky as if you'd just said the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "It's not about charming anyone you idiot," she shook her head, "It's about doing this for yourself."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your tired eyes watching you as she continued.

"If you're applying makeup and pretty dresses for anybody else but you in the first place, that's a bit desperate."

You spat into the sink again, rinsing the bristles from your toothbrush. "Making yourself pretty for someone you like would be desperate?"

"In some cases, no," she admitted, "Like wearing something someone offered you." 

You grabbed one of the glasses of water on the sink, filling it to rinse your mouth.

‘"But I can tell you're negligent of yourself," she continued as she moved forward to stand next to you, "and that's what's bringing you lower than zero." 

You turned to her, thinking the conversation was going to turn negative and immediately demeaning, but her tone wasn't condescending.

"This doesn't just apply to your physique, Zaunite girl," she pointed out, marking the new appellation with her tongue, "but to the way you consider yourself. You want to be number one at all times, but you forget to put yourself first and that is the very reason you're losing."

You sighed - she wasn't wrong. You weren't taking care of yourself, weren't giving yourself enough of the treatment you deserved or simply needed to live. The memories of your fever during exam week and of all the deviations you had made out of greed to win also came back to mind.

You'd put your primary needs to one side, neglected your friendships by walking away from them as soon as you thought you'd done anything remotely negative, and ended up in situations where your health was in danger simply because you unconsciously thought you deserved it or that it was the norm.

And every time, Viktor intervened.

He stayed by your side when you were seriously ill, passed you his coat during the masquerade, persevered in wanting to be your friend and assured you that he didn't think badly of you.

You took a sip of water from your glass to keep it in your mouth and spit, hoping that its coolness would contrast with the heat you felt just thinking about it.

"Any reason for this early morning motivation class?" you asked as you came out of the bathroom to find something to change into,"Or are you about to bring me outside barefoot in the grass while we do some flowy movements for better harmony in our bodies?"

She stood by the bathroom frame, giggling. "No party of mine happens barefoot."

You turned to her, frowning and giving up the search for the day's clothes for the moment. "Party?"

"Yup," she confirmed as she walked over to you, observing the contents of your suitcase. "You guys are leaving tomorrow evening, so I wanted to make sure we'd all have our fun one last time." Her eyes returned to yours. "Tonight, I'm hosting a party in one of the apartments under my name, not far from here. Everyone's invited."

You turned to your suitcase, Fiora's earlier questions about your appearance taking on a second meaning. 

"I've never been to any party before," you admitted as you found what you were going to wear for the day and headed for the bathroom so you could change in privacy, closing the door behind you.

She approached the door, leaning against the wall next to it. "Have you been that much of a fun killer all your life?" she giggled.

"Just never had the opportunity or any invite, alright?" you sighed, tired of her answers which you found a little too dramatic as you undressed. "My first party of the sort was a masquerade I attended this very year which, apart from a few exceptions, had guests that were all toffs twice my age."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," she argued. "It's not going to be anything wild or club-like unfortunately if I have to fit Lolanthe and Heimerdinger's policy of moderate drinking or fun with a capital F."

You'd never really liked clubs -they were too noisy, too dark with lights only provided by neons and drinks that were far too expensive for how they tasted. Zaun's clubs were quite an attraction themselves, but nothing could have convinced you to end in one of them willingly to party and have fun.

"You know," she continued, "that might be an opportunity for you to get closer to Viktor."

The mention of his name stopped you putting on your trousers and nearly made you lose your balance.

"You're still on this," you whispered as you accelerated your dressing. If you wanted to escape this conversation, or her in general, you had to get out of this room.

"Come on," she sneered from the other side of the door, "have you never ever thought there could be something between the two of you?"

You stood there motionless, your eyes landing back on you in your mirror. Could anyone fall in love with this reflection you saw? Could anyone be charmed by it?

You'd never really had time to think about the possibilities of having a relationship with anyone, since your attention was mainly focused on your studies, but could there really have been a possibility of someone falling in love with you and you being able to return that love?

"You're taking an awfully long time to answer this," Fiora toned from the other side.

You opened the door, not even glancing at her as you walked purposefully to your suitcase and arranged it a little. "I never wondered about it."

She huffed exaggeratedly. "Viktor didn't answer like that."

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to face her. "What?"

"A-ha!" she exclaimed, pointing at you as you realised her little trap. "See? You're interested in him."

You huffed, trying to calm your mind and your heart. She was only trying to elicit a reaction from you, nothing more, nothing less. Wasn't she?

You caught yourself thinking about the possibility that she had actually asked him the question, and wondered whether her remark was a complete lie or whether there was some truth in it. Your heart felt cramped in your chest.

"Whatever," you sighed as you set your suitcase down on the floor again, the box of your tarot cards sticking out slightly from under one of your T-shirts, and you decided that you would wait until evening to read your card.

She didn't press the point any further, realising that she probably couldn't get any more information out of you at the moment. "Have you ever played Werewolf, Zaunite girl?"

"Werewolf?" you questioned.

"You really have come out of a cave," she remarked, "I feel like I'm babysitting."

"Well why are you doing all this effort for me then?"

"Because I want us to find a way to get along at least once, alright?" she finally admitted. "I'm trying to make up for what I pulled on you. Is party-fun forbidden in Piltover?’

You sighed, she was doing it very awkwardly of course, but that didn't stop her original intention from being almost touching, honourable.

"It's not forbidden to me, just... foreign," you admitted.

"Would you like to try it, though?" she asked.

You chewed your cheek, considering this most unusual offer. Was there any harm in trying? You wouldn't gain anything but the usual if you refused this offer and stayed in your room reading a book. You already did that every night, after all, so why not give it a try?

"Come on," she hummed, arching an eyebrow with a playful little smile, "I know Viktor will come if you do."

Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling, although the idea seemed strangely intriguing. Viktor wouldn't come to a place just because you were there, that would sound ridiculous.

"Fine, I'll come," you finally agreed, placing your index up in front of her to impeach her from saying anything. "But it's not just because of Viktor, don't get any ideas."

"Sure, whatever floats your delusion boat," she smiled before leaving the room.

You followed her into the hotel restaurant, which was already packed with students and other guests. You had indeed slept longer than usual, and if Fiora hadn't come to wake you up, you would probably have ended up receiving a remark from Heimerdinger about your absence to his lesson.

Unless perhaps one of your friends had come. It could very well have been Sky, Jayce, maybe Garen.

Maybe even Viktor.

As if searching for the beam of a lighthouse on the open sea, your eyes landed on him, sitting at a table in a corner with Jayce, as usual. Fiora joined them, and you helped yourself to breakfast, turning back to their table as Viktor's gaze fell on you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you gripped your tray tightly, hoping not to make a fool of yourself by dropping it if your body decided to act like this again against your will.

You walked towards them, Fiora sitting next to Viktor who only seemed to be partially listening to her, while Jayce seemed genuinely invested in what she had to say.

"Good morning," you greeted as you placed your lunch tray next to Jayce's. 

"Oh hey!" he said as he turned to you, "you're up later than usual."

"Yeah well," you sat down and took a slice of your lunch in hand, "couldn't find sleep."

Your eyes rested on Viktor, his own already on you and seemingly unchanged since he'd seen you come into the room. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, that stupid allergy. 

"Oh? Why?” questioned the golden boy.

Surely not because I couldn't stop thinking about your best friend and that kept me up all night.

"Couldn't drop my book," you offered by way of explanation.

You felt Viktor's insistent gaze on you, and you swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, glancing at Fiora next to him who gave you a knowing little smile. Couldn't you look anywhere?

"What were you guys talking about?" you asked, turning to Jayce, who at least didn't seem ready to extort any information from you.

"Fiora was just explaining to us the rules of this game called the Werewolf," he smiled, turning to her.

You did the same, offering him a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘see, I'm not the only one who doesn't know about it’.

"Oh you're teachin’ them Werewolf?"

Garen, tray in hand, took a seat next to you.

"No, I'm visibly showing them how to use an iron curler," Fiora huffed heavily.

He glanced at her perfectly straight hair. "You're a poor demonstrator if that is the case," he replied before lowering his gaze to the contents of his tray and starting his breakfast.

"So," she continued, deciding to ignore him openly, "the game is simple. A narrator, players; two sides, one objective: may the best player win."

Your eyes met Viktor's again, a playful flicker crossing his gaze as your lips quirked with nostalgia for the beginning of the year.

"The players are either villagers or werewolves," continued Fiora. "The villagers' objective is to discover who the werewolves are and eliminate them, while the werewolves seek to eliminate the villagers without being discovered."

"Is this a board game?" questioned Viktor without taking his eyes off you.

You could sense that he was intrigued, and that for some reason he was intrigued because you were potentially going to play it.

Had Fiora just told them about the party? Had she arrived at their table to proudly wave a flag with the words ‘she said yes’ after your conversation?

I know Viktor will come if you do.

You brought the cup of your morning drink to your lips, trying to banish the constant replay in your mind of memories of that infamous shared cup of coffee.

"More like a card game," Garen replied, "all players start the game with a card that determines their role until the end of the game."

"The game is played in two distinct phases - night and day," continued Fiora. "At night, the leader calls out the roles one by one so that they wake up and take their actions. During the day you learn the results of what the night has sown, and you can eliminate a player by voting. And the cycle continues until the end."

"Wait," Jayce finally asked, beginning to really get into the game, "you said there were two sides, villagers and werewolves. But then you said you were calling out the roles one by one during the night."

"That's because some of the villagers have special powers," Garen pointed out.

"Powers?" you chuckled, finishing your mouthful before resuming. "I thought you hated anything to do with magic, isn't it strange to incorporate it into your games though?"

"It's a game, not real life," Fiora informed, and if she could have added 'you stupid cunt' to the end of her sentence, she had the perfect tone for it. "These powers are more special abilities than anything else."

You decided to keep quiet for the moment, Fiora explaining the roles one by one. 

"First of all, cupid."

Your eyes rested on Viktor for a moment, his glance never shifting from you but never losing the thread of the conversation. Your gaze fell on his cup of coffee for a tiny moment before you redirected your attention to Fiora and listened to her.

"He points at two players who will fall in love with his arrow, and if one of them dies, the other will kill themselves out of love. The aim of the lovers is to survive the game together, even against the village if one of them is a werewolf."

You understood more and more that the game would be based on strategy and theory, and you found yourself genuinely interested in it.

"Next up," Fiora continued, "is the card reader."

You frowned, but seeing as you'd been rebuffed the moment before for your question about magic, you weren't about to be taken back twice by asking her a second time.

"The card reader can observe a card of her choice, and keep the information for herself."

"Why not say in the morning that she knows the identity of a player?" questioned Jayce.

"Because the point is to manage to keep her role secret, or to bluff," explained Garen, biting into a green apple. "Someone might well claim to be able to tell that a player is innocent when they're not."

So it was a game of lies and trickery... strange coming from the Demacians, unless in the end it was an outlet for them to compensate for the lack of daydreams crushed by the constant oppression of justice and absolute truth.

"Finally, come the werewolves who, still in silence, consult each other to decide by pointing to their next victim. Once agreed, they go back to sleep - however," Fiora arched an eyebrow, “the role of the little girl can spy during the wolves' turn by discreetly half-closing her eyes, or by finding a better way to hide her spying."

"If you knew the possible strategies," laughed Garen, accidentally pressing his knee against yours, the latter turning towards you, "sorry."

"It's fine," you assured him as you shifted slightly to give him more room, it must be said that sitting between Jayce and Garen made you feel a little small.

"The penultimate, the alchemist," Fiora continued, "the narrator shows the alchemist the werewolves' victim, and asks him if he wishes to save them with an elixir," she held up her thumb, "do nothing," lowering it to the side, "or kill them with a poison," placing her thumb downwards.

"So there's another way of eliminating werewolves other than by voting?" questioned Viktor.

"Of course," confirmed Garen, "not only could the alchemist use a poison very carefully, but an eliminated player in love with a werewolf could very well take his love to his grave. Then, of course, there's the hunter."

"The hunter?" you repeated.

"The hunter is the last card," confirmed Fiora. "If the hunter dies, he can choose a target to kill with a bullet from his rifle before he dies."

"That's a lot of roles to remember," sighed Jayce, looking up at the ceiling of the restaurant and wishing he could keep all this information in his head.

"It'll come as the game goes on," Garen assured him, "I can always give you tips, by the way."

"It's cheating if you give them the keys to the game," Fiora grumbled as she slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"They barely know the rules of the game," sighed Garen, "they're going to find themselves up against werewolf war machines without having a great idea of all the different strategies we know."

She said nothing, simply rolling her eyes as Garen turned to you and put his mouth to his palm to whisper in your ear, your eyes resting relentlessly on Viktor's which seemed to narrow under his frowning eyebrows.

"Werewolves can vote on each other, and if they agree on that, it means that when it's the alchemist's turn, they can get a werewolf resurrected and make the village's only saviour lose his life potion to prolong their chances."

He leaned back from you, and you let out a small laugh from your lungs as the confusion grew in Viktor's features.

"The Noxians have a lot to worry about if the Demacians are playing this game as a hobby," you smiled before taking the last of your breakfast into your mouth.

"Great," gasped Fiora, "now Zaunite girl is going to shamelessly try to tear us apart."

"Afraid of a debutant?" you pointed out with a mocking smile.

"I don't have anything to be afraid of," she articulated, her own smirk emerging, "since I will be the narrator."

"Pfft, coward," you huffed.

"I'm just out of this game because I would make it too hard for you to win anything," she countered before standing up. "But if your determination is as fierce as your fists, I think tonight's game is sure to prove interesting."

And with that, as she made her way out of the restaurant, Heimerdinger quieted the room to tell them all about the day's programme.

For the penultimate day, you were entitled to free time. You were allowed to visit any monument, street or other event taking place in the city.

Your day consisted of long walks through the streets, shopping for souvenirs along the way, taking part in street attractions such as a portrait drawn in ebony ink on a stone as white as the cliffs of Demacia, or a small café that gave a personality quiz at the entrance and offered you a coffee to go with it afterwards.

Viktor had left you again when the afternoon came, wishing to rest before the evening in case the Demacian flats reflected their streets by removing any sofas and chairs.

"If there was a way for them to sleep standing up, they wouldn't have any beds," he sighed before leaving.

You took advantage of this little trip back to the hotel to start packing your suitcase. Fiora's remark about your appearance and your neglect of it still lingered slightly in the back of your mind, even though you eliminated the possibility of buying a dress or some make-up soon enough.

As you packed your things, your fingers inevitably landed on your deck of cards. There were two decks today, and you had a feeling that they would be revealing.

After your usual shuffling ritual, the deck offered you the Chariot card.

Advancing towards a chosen goal. Confidence and certainty. Movement and adventure. The city wall behind the Chariot reflects the barrier between you and others. You are freeing yourself.

You huffed as you sat on your bed, could you honestly follow the advice on this card?

The description continued: The character is protected by his armour and all the celestial bodies are reflected on the canopy. Two sphinxes line up on the black and white pillars of the High Priestess. They reflect duality and the outer pillars of the Tree of Life. The Magician has channelled energy through his body to transport it here and push the body into action. Nothing can stop you. You are literally in the driver's seat.

Your fingers ran over the smooth varnish of the card, your eyes searching its details. Could you be so certain? Could you sincerely free yourself from all those cycles and ideas that were needlessly handcuffing you to behaviours linked to the past?

If Fiora's advice was sincerely that you put yourself first, you were going to choose what you wanted for yourself and not someone like Fiora who wanted to tell you how to act and react. But you kept her advice in mind when it came to the physical side of things.

You had to move forward, make up your mind and not look back.

That evening, you met Sky in the hall to go to Fiora's house. Outside, the air was fine, and other students were already on their way to her address. Viktor and Jayce would arrive later, no doubt to avoid the social rule that arriving too early for a party was a waste of time.

"I'm surprised you're going to her party," Sky admitted as the two of you walked side by side. "After everything she's done to you, it would almost be doing her too much honour to come."

"I'd be doing her a favour if I stayed in my room on my own," you sighed. "If I didn't come to her party, I would have admitted defeat and needlessly deprived myself of an opportunity to have a good time."

"I can understand that," Sky conceded, "but don't you think she'd risk a public toast to you again by revealing anything else you'd have preferred to keep secret?"

"I don't think that even with all the effort in the world she would come to any further conclusion about me that she could reveal," you admitted. "But the holiday is coming to an end, and I'd rather leave on good terms with good memories. Something tells me this evening will be a perfect example of that.’

It wasn't long before you reached the address. It was more a large house than anything else, three storeys high with multiple balconies where you had a feeling that some people were going to end up in a counterparty.

When you entered the hall, warm colours cut through the generally cold exterior. Sofas covered in red and magenta cushions were placed in the living room, where some of your friends were already sitting and chatting, a large kitchen with a massive island on which various glasses and snacks were sitting was at the back of the room, while Fiora was chatting with some of her other friends.

You met her gaze and she abandoned her discussion to come towards you as Sky found Orcelyia.

"The pipsqueak and the muscle-bound one aren't here yet?" she asked, looking around the room.

"They won't be long," you confirmed, imitating her gesture. "So that's your place?"

"In part, yes," she confirmed, observing the decoration in turn before turning away towards the island. "It's under my surname, and therefore mine in a way."

You moved forward to follow her, observing the petit fours ready to fill all the stomachs of the evening. "You truly do live like a princess."

"I hate it as much as I love it," she admitted before taking a goblet, uncorking a black felt-tip pen with her teeth and keeping the cap between her lips as she wrote on the cup. 

"Too many dresses in your closet?" you questioned as you leaned back against the worktop.

"Too many expectations about me wearing the dresses," she explained before handing you the cup with your name on it and taking another in her hand. "What is wearing me down is the need to honour it."

You watched her elegant handwriting and the way she had added an exclamation mark to the end of your name. "I think you can honour them well, otherwise you wouldn't get the guilt from it."

"I wish I didn't need to honour anything at all," she confessed, writing her own name with little flourishes and other little drawings on it. "All I want is to cut the air with my blade and be considered as someone other than Fiora from house Laurent. Want something to drink?’

If you wanted to be able to stay alert later on during those famous werewolf games, alcohol was probably not a wise choice. So you asked her for a simple drink that you could enjoy without worrying about the side effects it would bring.

You watched the rest of the room, the background music loud enough to set the mood without anyone having to lean over to their conversation partner to hear. You wondered when Viktor and Jayce would arrive.

"So," Fiora continued as if she could read your mind, or was once again far too curious, "you and Viktor."

"Not this again," you sighed, taking a sip of your drink.

"Come on," she lengthened her sentence lasciviously, "I want to know where it all started."

You chuckled slightly, thinking back to all the things you'd been through about him so far.

"Well," you began, looking around the room, your eyes resting on Sky for a moment, "the day I returned to the Academy after the holidays were over, this homo-idioticus, in one single day, refused my help coldly and managed to overtake me in the Academy results."

"Off to a strong start," she smiled, intrigued.

‘’Don't remind me,’‘ you continued, ”there followed weeks and weeks of childish bickering, leading to Heimerdinger eventually pairing us up for a team project and us working together.’’

"Heimerdinger is decidedly well versed in what he needs to do."

"He made me want to rip his moustache off," you sneered, "I even ended up in detention because of it."

"You, in detention? I'd have liked to have seen that," she smiled, "did you hit another pupil to achieve the same result?"

"Well..." you let your sentence fade for a moment as you moistened your lips, "there's a chance Tyler's face might recall that."

Fiora's smile faded in an instant as shock passed seamlessly over her face. "I was joking, but..." she seemed to consider the situation, chuckling as a mocking smile settled on her face. "Gosh he is pathetic."

‘’Tell me about it,‘’ you observed as you searched the room for him with your eyes.

"He's not invited, if that's your concern," Fiora informed you before taking only a sip of her drink. "What happened next?"

You were trying to put the pieces of the story back together. "Then came the exams, and my unforgivable desire to win got the better of me enough that I flirted with death for a moment while the illness confined me to a bed. He…” you breathed in, thinking back to the sun caressing his hair, the crease of his eyebrows in his sleep, “he watched over me.”’

She was silent beside you, and when you turned to her, she wore a small, knowing smile as her eyebrows rose suggestively. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes. "After that, when I finally realised that our goals weren't common and there was no reason for me to hate him, we decided to call a truce."

"And I suppose he came up with the idea?" she questioned.

You nodded, bringing your cup to your lips in the hope that the heat would subside in your cheeks, your eyes resting on the entrance to the room, waiting.

"You're so blind," Fiora whispered.

You turned to her. "How so?"

"I can't say yet, not when your wit is as sharp as a butter knife," she smiled as she walked over to the counter to get a refill. "But when it hits you, it's going to be like a brick."

“Viktor's my friend,” you repeated once more.

"Yeah, right," she smiled, her eyes settling on a point in the room as her lips stretched into a sneer, "speaking of the devil."

Your eyes inevitably fell on Viktor and Jayce who had just arrived. Jayce was elegant, with a black shirt that hugged his muscular frame and jeans of the same colour. Viktor, on the other hand, was dressed simply in a brown shirt with rolled-up sleeves and simple black trousers, his brace covering his leg. Of the two, you could tell who had spent more time in front of the mirror.

"Finally here," Fiora called before moving towards them and you following.

Jayce had simply taken an inordinate amount of time getting ready, as usual, even if he had seemed to cut back on certain parts of his routine. This was no doubt due to the little teasing you and Viktor had given him, and poor Jayce was probably having an existential crisis about his tastes and appearances.

"This is your place?" questioned Jayce as he observed the architecture and interior decoration.

"I know," whispered Fiora, "it's a bit too big, but for these kinds of occasions, it's perfect. Bathrooms on each floor, a few bedrooms as well as closets, balconies for a smoke if wanted - all we need. Now, let me bring you your cups.’

As she disappeared towards the counter again, you turned towards them. Viktor looked at you while Jayce observed the flat's decorations.

"Thankfully this is not another masquerade," you smiled.

"I think I'd prefer a masquerade," Viktor confessed, "it would help me hide my boredom with a conversation if I find myself stuck in it."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Jayce encouraged, "we're going to spend most of the evening obviously playing games anyway."

He pressed his hand on his friend's shoulder before leaving to see other students. He seemed to find Garen, who smiled at him as they began a discussion. Perhaps the latter would also offer him a strategy for this evening's game.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a long one," you admitted before taking a sip of your drink and observing the rest of the room.

"I was going to go out and look for a balcony to claim as my own for the evening," Viktor conceded, "but I have a feeling it won't be that unpleasant."

"Really? What makes you say that?’ you questioned.

He shrugged, his eyes settling on the armchairs and sofas. "The fact that I don't have to stand."

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, and he smiled. There was something soft in his eyes, and you couldn't make out what it was, but it cradled your heart in its arms.

"So you're the lady that kicked Fiora's ass!"

You turned towards a cheerful voice that sounded foreign to you. A young lady with blonde hair and eyes sparkling with wonder had arrived at your level.

"I..." you exchanged a glance with Viktor, wondering if he knew the young lady, "I am."

"I wish I could have been there for that," she mused with a charming euphoric smile, "it's all anyone's talked about for a week. It really makes you want to come to the training ground more often."

She hardly seemed to contain her excitement, and you were genuinely surprised. She looked to be about fifteen, and not one of the students at the party.

"Lux, please don't harass her in one go."

Garen reached your height, placing his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Forgive my sister," he smiled, "I told her a little about our days and I do believe she has developed an adoration."

"I didn't know you had a little sister," you remarked before turning to her and introducing yourself.

"I already know your name," she smiled, "I've heard a great deal about you." She turned to your friend. "And you must be Viktor, right?’

"Himself," he sighed.

She leaned forward to whisper for him. "Sorry about Fiora's behaviour and the way she glued herself to you."

"Now," Fiora rightly interjected as Lux jumped slightly from surprise, coming back over to you and handing Viktor a cup with 'Vikkie' written on it with a little heart over the dot of the i's, "we have games to play. Lux, you're joining us little one?’

When enough people volunteered to play, everyone took their places on two sofas facing each other and an armchair to one side. You found yourself sitting on a corner of a sofa next to Sky, who was sitting between you and Orcelyia, while Jayce and Garen were sitting next to each other on the sofa opposite, and Lux was sitting next to her big brother. As for Viktor, he was sitting in the armchair.

This was a warm-up game so that the new players could get used to the game together - and possibly play with more players in future games. Fiora shuffled the cards for a moment, explaining the rules of the game and the process. She showed you the cards one by one, reminding you what they were, and soon enough she dealt them out.

You took yours and looked discreetly at its symbol: Werewolf.

Great, already an enemy in a game. It would be all right, it would be simple, wouldn't it? There were two werewolves present in the game, and you were wondering who would be the second participant.

"Now that everyone knows who they are," began Fiora, "the village is going to sleep for its first night."

Everyone closed their eyes, although it took Fiora's clarification that ‘you sleep with your eyes closed’ for Jayce to finally understand that he couldn't keep his eyes open at the moment.

"I call Cupid."

Having your eyes closed made for a strange experience. You found yourself trying to work out every movement of the more or less close players to try and work out who had what role.

"Designate two lovers who, at first sight, will fall madly in love with each other."

Despite the music, you tried to guide your ears towards the players and the reaction time. 

"All right, cupid, you can go back to sleep," said Fiora. "I'm now going to touch the heads of the two lovers, who will see and recognise each other."

The idea of having to be associated with anyone and that one of these players might be your partner displeased you at the time: what if they made a mistake? What if they were targeted and you ended up dead because you had to commit yourself?

You heard Fiora start to walk, and you feared that your head would be hit. She passed by Orcelyia and Sky, and her legs brushed against your knees without you feeling anything on your head or her continuing on her way.

Saved. All you had to do now was kill one of the lovers to kill two birds with one stone and speed up the game. It didn't matter who your furred partner was, if you could kill one of the lovers, you were going to seize the opportunity.

"The lovers wake up, to recognise each other," Fiora continued, leading the game with finesse and constantly moving around you to mislead the players.

Near you, however, you felt movement to your right, towards Sky and Orcelyia. Could they be the lovers of the evening? A player like Garen or possibly Lux, who already knew their way around, wouldn't have made the simple mistake of not being sufficiently quiet.

If that was the case and Sky was one of the two lovers, you could certainly try to silently convince your sidekick to come to terms with it - even if the thought broke your heart.

"Lovers go back to sleep," sighed Fiora. "I call the card reader. Point me to a player's card you'd like to see."

You concentrated hard to try and hear anything, but it seemed impossible to ignore the slight stirring of Sky next to you. Perhaps she was the card reader, perhaps she was just fidgeting to reposition herself.

When Fiora came round to move the cards and make you doubt, you dreaded your card being shown. What if you were eliminated from the start?

"The card reader can go back to sleep. I'm now calling in the werewolves."

You opened your eyes and lifted your head, looking around until your eyes landed on Viktor to your left. 

He looked back at you, cheek pressed lasciviously to the back of his hand. You were the two werewolves.

You couldn't help your lips from stretching into a smile as he winked at you, your cheeks heating and your heart missing a beat.

"They recognise each other," Fiora confirmed with a wry little smile. Had she intentionally dealt the cards so that you'd end up together like this? "The werewolves are now going to choose a victim for the night who will be their meal."

Your eyes roamed over the small group of closed eyes, apprehending to point with your thumb to the right towards Sky, but Viktor pointed without hesitation to Jayce. When your eyes landed on him, you noticed that his fingers were spread apart, barely hiding his open eyes.

The little girl, of course, barely concealing his identity as he tried hard to hide behind his thick fingers. You stifled the little laugh that rose up inside you before pointing to Jayce.

Fiora rolled her eyes. "Well, the werewolves have made their choice and can go back to sleep."

You exchanged one last glance with Viktor, who smiled at you before his eyes gently closed and you did the same.

"The alchemist's waking up."

You couldn't hear anything coming from the opposite sofa, and if the alchemist was on yours, they were very quiet.

"This person has been named as tonight's victim," you imagined her pointing at Jayce, "what do you wish to do? Save this person, do nothing, or kill someone?’

You could hardly hear anything, until Fiora spoke again. "Alright, alchemist, you can go back to sleep." She paused for a moment, then resumed. "The village wakes up."

Everyone raised their eyes, opening their falsely tired eyelids. You watched everyone, examining their faces and the way they acted.

"Dear villagers, last night a victim was devoured by werewolves."

You tried to remain calm, observing the rest of the participants, trying to gauge who might have what role. You met Garen's eyes, who was also watching you, followed by Lux, who seemed to be smiling in satisfaction. She could be a target for the vote, but you were counting on finding a way to cut it short by killing the two lovers.

Fiora turned to Jayce, pointing at him. "Jayce was found this very morning, jugular ripped out while he was out last night," she stepped forward to pick up Jayce's card, which until now had been lying like all the others on the coffee table at the centre of this affair. "The little girl died last night."

You feigned surprise, watching the other participants until your eyes fell on Viktor. It would have been more than suspicious if you hadn't been looking at him, and as you watched he seemed serene although falsely intrigued by who could have committed this murder.

"I suppose I can't say anything of what I saw?" questioned Jayce with a frustrated pout.

"Do dead people talk?" questioned Fiora in return, and Jayce crossed his arms, slumping back on the sofa as he stared into space followed by a long sigh.

"Wasn't so subtle about being the little girl I guess?" remarked Orcelyia.

"You guess?" underlined Garen. ‘Were you awake when this butchery happened?

Orcelyia abandoned her small smile for an expression of shock. "Of course not!"

If Orcelyia could become the target of the day, that was fine with you, and you intended to make sure that the day went in your favour. But you still had to pretend you were a villager and invent fictitious concerns.

"What's troubling is that the Alchemist did not use a life potion, Jayce is," you turned to him for a moment, "sorry, was not a threat."

"Hey!" he shouted indignantly.

"The dead don't speak," Fiora pointed out, Jayce grabbing a cushion from the sofa, putting it on his stomach and wrapping his arms around it to steady himself.

"She's right, though," Sky resumed. "The Alchemist kept his life potion. Now, who wouldn't want to save him?’

With a strange unanimity, everyone turned to Viktor. The hitherto silent man looked at you all, frowning.

"You really think I wouldn't have used some magic potion to save my friend if I had the opportunity?"

Viktor was playing the ‘it would be suspicious for me to target a friend’ card, and he played it wonderfully. You dreaded the possibility of Garen pointing out that it was precisely because Viktor was his friend that he had an extra chance of targeting him, but he did not.

You refrained from emphasising this idea, not wishing to eliminate your partner in crime even though this possibility could have given you undisputed immunity. No, you wouldn't do that to Viktor even if you could, and that idea made you feel all weird.

"Orcelyia," you resumed though, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further ideas about Viktor, "how did you make that assumption about Jayce?"

"Well, just look at him," she gestured broadly in the air at him.

You knew that Jayce wasn't the most discreet man in the world, but that didn't stop the remark from seeming like a perfect opportunity to pin her down.

"Excuse me?" you almost choked out. "Would you have attacked him on the logic that he was an easy target?"

"No don't take it this way," Orcelyia hastened, "you know what I meant!"

"You seem nervous," added Viktor calmly, the difference between his calm demeanour and Orcelyia's provided a convincing contrast - who would believe someone who looked guilty?

"Indeed she does," Garen remarked.

"I'm not a werewolf!" continued Orcelyia.

"You're not putting up anything to defend yourself though," Lux remarked, taking a slight dig at Garen's attitude.

"Because you don't give her time to defend herself," remarked Sky.

The two of them were in love, that was for certain.

"Are you defending her because she's your partner in crime?" you questioned.

You were insinuating a doubt, and the others were starting to hang on to it. You weren't seeing Viktor at the moment, trying not to let on that you had a more than dubious connection with him.

"Absolutely not," continued Orcelyia, "isn't my truth enough?"

"The truth will be what we make of it," you remarked.

"I think it's time for the village to vote," Fiora observed. 

You had prepared your target, Orcelyia perfectly in the lion's den as the others would follow. Even if your target was originally Sky, the possibility that the latter two were in love meant you could hope for a big score. After their elimination, only Garen and Lux would be left to foil, and one against two, no matter how it ended, would be gifted to win.

"On the count of three, you will point to the person you wish to consider as the target of this day's vote. One, two, three."

The count fell, and so a majority of hands turned to Orcelyia, besides her and Sky pointing one to you and one to Garen. You won.

"Well, the vote is almost unanimous. Orcelyia, today the village has chosen you as its victim. Offer your card."

She grumbled, taking her card and turning it over on the table.

"Orcelyia was the Alchemist," confirmed Fiora, showing the card to the players.

"Why didn't you save Jayce?" questioned Viktor.

"Because she was in love," you said, turning to Sky.

By making this remark, you were allowing yourself to be seen as the cupid left in the two villagers, even if after tonight you were going to win.

Orcelyia sighed as she turned to your friend in turn. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she smiled, "they had already made their choice."

Fiora stepped forward. "Sky, pierced by cupid's arrow, was madly in love with Orcelyia. And following today's vote, she has decided to join her lover in the grave" Sky grabbed her card, turning it over for all to see. "Sky was the card reader."

"Damn," you breathed, falsely shocked, although there was very little left to pretend given the rest that remained to be eliminated.

"So the reason you kept your potion close was so you could save Sky in case she was in danger of dying?" questioned Jayce.

"Yes," she breathed, "sorry Jayce, I had to make sure she stayed alive."

"Is the village ready to go back to sleep?" questioned Fiora, watching your heads nod. "Well, the village is going back to bed. The dead, meanwhile, can watch."

All those remaining - you, Viktor, Garen and Lux - closed their eyes or buried their eyelids in their palms.

"I'm calling the werewolves."

Viktor and you raised your heads, and Jayce opened his mouth wide, silently articulating with his lips ‘you two?!’

You shrugged as your lips pressed into a thin line, Viktor smiling shamelessly.

"Werewolves, from now on choose who will be your victim this night."

Any one of them could make the choice, but the hunter remained, and something told you that Garen hadn't been the one to make Sky and Orcelyia the lovers. So, if you devoured him tonight and woke up in the morning with one of you dead, you'd end up with a tie. No, you had to win, take this first victory proudly and handily to show the other players that even if you were just beginners, you were formidable.

So you pointed to Lux, and Viktor exchanged a glance with you before following you with his finger. He trusted your instincts, just as you had trusted him with Jayce.

"Right, the werewolves can go back to sleep," she indicated, waiting a final moment before saying, "the village wakes up."

The four of you opened your eyes, the other two seeming to understand the fate that awaited them.

"Tonight, a new victim has been taken," she moved towards Lux, "between the white feathers and the blood, Lux has been devoured." She grabbed her card, showing it for all to see. "Lux was the cupid."

Sky and Orcelyia smiled at her, while Garen understood the situation.

"Of course it had to be the both of you," he smiled, "it's always you two."

"You don't change a winning team," you grinned for a moment, your eyes settling on those of Viktor.

There was a glint of quiet, dark amusement in his eyes, nodding. 

"She called you an homo-idioticus," Fiora commented as if reading a line from your lecture notes, or a post-it scribble you'd put on Viktor's forehead to make him guess what he was.

"It's a pet name," he remarked, chuckling slightly at the appellation as he turned to you.

"Birds of a feather flock together," you tried to clarify at least.

"Right, could the two cubs finally name their voting victim?"

You both pointed at Garen, who sighed as Fiora picked up his card. "Garen was the hunter."

He huffed, slumping down on the sofa next to Jayce before pointing his index finger at you like a pistol, pretending to aim at you. 

"Poof," he pressed as with that imaginary trigger he winked, to better aim for a moment.

"And so the werewolves win with Viktor," Fiora pointed out before starting to pick up the cards again.

"You killed me?!" Jayce finally exclaimed in your direction.

"You were hardly discreet," pointed out Viktor.

"You were spreading your fingers a lot," you confirmed.

"I was doing my best! Why did you kill me straight away?"

"You were going to reveal who we were if we let you live until tomorrow," you continued, "and knowing it's you, everyone would have believed it."

Other students from the party eventually wanted to join in, and just as you were expecting to start another game of it, Fiora had other ideas.

"We're going to try a new game, but with a different layout," she indicated as she stood up, turning to some of the rest of the students, "you're doing seven minutes in heaven?"

"Yeah, we've just cleared the dressing room," grinned one of them as he nervously scratched the back of his neck while his other hand had a thumb busy pressing against his red lips. Another girl behind him was redrawing her own with a red lipstick. 

"What's a seven minutes in heaven?" you questioned, mixing curiosity with slight concern.

"You really do live in a cave," sighed Fiora, turning to you and Viktor, "you two, follow me."

You exchanged a glance with Viktor, himself looking confused, before you both stood up and followed her out of the room.

"Seven minutes in heaven is simple," she began to explain as you headed down a corridor, "we choose two people to meet for seven minutes in a closet."

"To do what?" asked Viktor.

She turned to the two of you once she'd reached a door at the end of the corridor. "Make out."

Your heart leapt into your throat as your mind raced. Make out? 

The idea seeped into your mind like sunlight through the cracks of a cave. For a moment you imagined the scene, how close you'd be, how his hand would rest on your waist like you'd tattooed your mind with it in the museum, how your lips would have no cup to separate them.

But you pulled yourself together. The idea should have repulsed you, or made you feel more unpleasant than anything else - not possible.

Why had you even considered it?

You turned to him, who seemed just as surprised as you were as your eyes fell on his.

"What?" you finally asked nervously, turning to Fiora.

"Relax, I'm kidding," she reassured, and your shoulders slumped as you realised Viktor was doing the same, "although most people in seven minutes in heaven do make out. You can just talk in there, do absolutely nothing at all and wait for the time to end, or engage in further than just kissing.’

She wore a naughty smile, and you hoped your cheeks would miraculously stop heating up.

"Although I don't think you'll get to that stage, I suppose it's always good to know your options," she pointed out as she opened the dressing room door and grabbed what looked to you like an alarm clock. ‘Here, no one will come and spy on you or hear you. Please enter your palace for the next seven minutes."

You exchanged a glance with Viktor, who seemed to be gauging the situation just as you were. You didn't have to kiss him or anything, and you obviously doubted that Viktor would want to engage in such an activity. You were reassured by the fact that simple conversation was a possibility, but the closeness would no doubt trigger this allergy even more.

"Do I have to push you inside or are you going to go in?" Fiora was getting impatient.

‘’All right, all right,‘’ you grumbled, finally stepping into the room.

You stood there for a moment, arms folded as you looked at Viktor, who seemed surprised by your choice.

"It's not like we're going to make out or anything," you shrugged.

He was silent for a moment, a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite work out was there, before he finally nodded and walked over to you. The room wasn't so small, at least not small enough for you to feel claustrophobic.

Fiora placed the alarm clock on the floor, then grabbed the door handle to close it on you. ‘’Good game!" she wished, the door closing and leaving you both in a room illuminated by a small orange nightlight that kept most of the room bathed in darkness.

Her footsteps faded into the echo of the corridor, leaving just you and Viktor, silently alone, just the two of you. Just goes to show, you didn't need a balcony to have a contre soirée.

Your eyes inevitably met, drifting slightly to one side but surely out of embarrassment or nervousness at the situation.

"So," Viktor broke the silence, "I'm a Homo-Idioticus?"

You laughed, your head falling back as you closed your eyes with a smile before your head fell lazily forward again. "Not you too, please."

"Under what context was I called such an endearing nickname?" He smiled, seeming in no way offended as he teased on.

You sighed, leaning against the wall adjacent to your exit door. "She asked me how we met."

"Ah," he realised, "yes I suppose a Cretinus Totalus would have been good for you too at times."

"Are you tired of calling me Miss already?" you joked.

He took a small step towards you to face you. "It's going to take a miracle for me to get tired of ever saying it."

The memories of your discussion at the museum came back to you just by your mutual position. You remembered his jaw, your proximity, the feeling of his hand on your waist keeping you in place and waiting for Fiora to leave. The situation mirrored itself in a new angle.

And the way you had to leave things only underlined the need for a continuation to it. You were well aware that you hadn't come to the end of that conversation yet, and he seemed to think so too.

"That day," he said as his eyes pierced you with their questions, "why did you leave?"

You knew instantly of the moment he was speaking about. You replayed in your mind the fight against Fiora, the disgusting feeling of the blood on your hands, and Viktor's shocked eyes on you that you tried not to think about if possible.

"I felt like..." you lowered your eyes to your hands, nervously fidgeting with them, "I disgusted you."

It was his turn to giggle and for your gaze to gain back his level. "So you used to be disgusted by me and now you're the one scared of me being disgusted by you?"

"You never disgusted me, Viktor," you articulated firmly as you met his eyes, your jaw tightening for a moment as he seemed a little surprised by your seriousness and the mention of his name. "Never have, never will."

His lips parted for a moment in astonishment.

"And I'm sorry that I ran away, but," you tried to hold your breath and not let your heart get the better of your words, "I really needed to get it all off of me."

Your fingers were almost itchy, and you tried in the moment to distract the sensation by bringing your hand to the back of your neck, which felt like it was burning, while your other hand hung down your body.

The muscle in Viktor's jaw tightened, the orange glow of the nightlight lingering on it for a moment before he relaxed. He didn't look angry, disappointed, or disgusted.

"I," his own hand gripped his cane differently, "wanted to find you then, to talk to you, to..." his amber eyes met yours, concerned, "make sure you were okay."

Your heart almost sank to its knees in the hollow of your chest - Viktor cared about you. Of course, that's what friends do for their friends when problems arise, but it didn't change the fact that the idea made you feel strange.

"Fiora was in a worse state than me," you mumbled.

"I do not care about Fiora," Viktor pointed out, shaking his head to clear the idiotic idea, "she is no friend of mine."

You inhaled harshly. "You stay friends with violent people?"

"I stay friends with people that I admire."

The lack of hesitation in his voice and his words left you almost speechless. There was this easiness about the way he said it, like it was an evidence, like it couldn't have been otherwise.

"Admire?" you repeated, as if to make sure you hadn't misheard what he'd said.

His eyes on you made you burn, eradicating everything in their path and revealing only truths you thought impossible to be seen. He took a step forward, and it seemed to you that their heat was setting you ablaze.

"Yes," he resumed, "admire."

"What is there to admire about me?" you chuckled, feeling like a lost cause.

"Do you want the chronological or the alphabetical order?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You have both these lists prepared?"

"If you can have our clauses numbered at the top of your mind, I don't see why I wouldn't have my own list prepared for the reasons to be your friend," he confirmed.

You blinked rapidly, amazed at the immediacy with which he responded. He cut short any possibility that went against his reasoning, and if you were coming up with anything that would try and rival such comebacks, he already had two prepared in advance. You breathed in, but ended up huffing out a sigh.

"No need for this list," you chuckled, a small pause taking the air before your grin left your lips. "I feared the way you would see me after," your eyes fell on your fingers again, "what I did. There was just something that..." with your fingernail, you were trying to scrape off a flap of skin sticking out near your thumb. "I just couldn't get you to be disappointed in me."

He frowned, his head jerking back in disbelief. "I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that."

"What?" you questioned, confused.

"Disappointed?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. "In you?"

You shrugged. "Does it seem that surprising of a concept?"

"Yes," Viktor confirmed with an incredulous grin, "or maybe do I have to remind you of your number one spot at the academy?"

You turned your head away, his eyes becoming an annoying mirror of what you were as you fled your reflection. "Not needed."

"Then why think you'd disappoint me?"

But you regained his gaze in the moment, he deserved to see the fear in your eyes and the uncertainty that stalked you. "Because who would want someone that is violent to hang out with?"

He shook his head. "It was legitimate defense."

"If it was legitimate defense, why did I end up with her blood on my hands, Viktor?" You almost raised your voice.

"Violent?" He frowned, taking another step towards you, leaving only a metre between you. "Don't you think I would have wanted to know how to fence with my cane to go against anyone that would have dared say what she said aloud to me?"

There was a firmness in his tone, his accent snapping across his teeth and lips. You parted your own, inhaling heavily. Had you pissed him off? Had you finally pushed him too far?

Noticing, however, the way you had tensed up, he let out a long sigh, his eyes softening as they roamed over your face and came to caress with the tips of his lashes where Fiora had struck.

Your back was pressed against the wall, you couldn't escape him. But would you have escaped if you'd had the chance? If the wall didn't exist, would you have backed away?

"We all have our angers," he continued, his voice softer, "and our reasons to fuel them. All different, all tailored, and that is what makes it so much easier to feel." He moved a little closer, and your chest swelled with warm air. "But in no way shape or form does it define you."

You swallowed, trying to force down the knot that was trying to form in your throat. Your eyes lowered to your hand, to your fingernail, still trying to tear off the cursed skin that kept sticking out. 

"Anger has left a gash in me that never wants to heal," your voice had grown small, a tiny light emerging in the darkness of the room, "I'm doing everything I can to make sure it never spreads again and closes."

You didn't meet his gaze, head down, continually scratching your skin to eradicate this weed growing on your skin. For as long as you had tried fighting all of this, it seemed as if you could never truly run away from it. Living with yourself had become a luxury through time, a possibility to move on with your life. And yet this clingy, sticky sensation clung to your fingers and mind horrifyingly.

And then, silently, Viktor gently moved his free fingers towards your hand without touching it. He just hovered over it, considering the situation, hesitating.

Then, his fingertips brushed against yours, sending sparks all over your arm and igniting your heart before he pressed his thumb against the skin you were trying so hard to rip off. 

His hand was warm, more than you would have expected, slightly calloused but soft and reassuring. He caressed the skin next to your fingernail, providing it a care your own treatment vould never have offered.

"To heal a wound, you have to stop touching it, Miss."

His voice was gentle, what little warmth there was in the room coming to lodge close to your heart for a moment. You inhaled harshly, the touch of his thumb on your skin washing away your worries like waves on sand.

If this allergy really was an allergy, why weren't any of the symptoms unpleasant?

"I know," you murmured, your thoughts slowly drifting away as the simple sensation of his skin on yours anchored you.

You could feel his eyes on you. "Then why do you keep letting it open?"

You tried to regain his gaze, to let yourself be seen, to let him see you. You inhaled sharply, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked up at him.

"Because it's the only thing I've ever known."

He tilted his head to one side, your heart missing a beat as his eyes showed no embarrassment, no fear, no disgust. His thumb pressed a little closer to your skin, moving ever so slightly along it.

"You don't have to live in it anymore," he murmured, his eyes resting on yours.

You lowered your gaze to your hands, Viktor's thumb sliding along the length of your index finger towards the inside of your hand, undoing your clenched fist in the process as his fingers barely covered the back of your hand.

"It'll take time," you whispered, letting the tension fade from your body.

You were close, only a small space separating your shoes from each other. There was something almost hypnotic in his caresses, in the fearful slowness with which he moved. There was something inside you, something that seemed to wake up a little more each time you were in his presence.

"All the time it needs," Viktor confirmed, his thumb continuing its journey to your knuckles, still darkened by the force of your strikes.

You watched, feeling his fingers pass under yours and support them as if you'd just given him a dance. 

His eyes watched your hand, yours raised to meet the serenity on his face. "Has your anger ever calmed?" you asked.

His chest swelled with air before he let out a long sigh. "It had," he confirmed.

"Had?" you questioned.

"Lately, I can't lie about the fact that a certain frustration has taken hold of me," the tip of his thumb brushed against the knuckle of your middle finger, the latter particularly dark compared to the others.

"Why?" you questioned, your fingers clasping his for a moment to gain his attention on the subject. "What happened?"

He straightened up, his eyes setting on you for a moment before letting go of your hand gently to rest it on top of the other one on the pommel of his cane. You were already strangely missing his warmth, why were you disappointed that he'd let go? Why had he held on to it? He could have let go of it a long time ago, so why did he go on? And you, who hadn't withdrawn it, why was that the case?

"Well," he continued, "a certain friend of mine started spending more time with a Demacian and neglected help from me but not from him."

You frowned, "Garen?"

"Unless your wounds were magically treated by air the day after the fight, I don't see anyone else," Viktor confirmed.

You remembered the morning itself, the alcohol stinging your lips as your eyes found Viktor. Was his frustration due to the fact that you hadn't come to see him instead of Garen?

"Well," you began again, "that was because my friend was monopolised by another Demacian that hated me."

He nodded. "I could have used a little help on that one too, I suppose."

"Sorry, your guard dog had a bit of trouble against the Demacians," you joked before gesturing vaguely to your face to show the area where you'd been injured.

He gave a small, amused smile. ‘’Damned Demacians, all bark no bite."

"Well, they do bite, just not as hard as Zaunites." You remembered what Eris had said just before you met Viktor, and found it ironic that you'd gone from lone wolf to watchdog. Were you that dedicated?

"The underground brings out the best underhounds," he confirmed, "we have a way to claw our way up to success that remains unrivalled."

You smiled, and he returned the gesture. There was an ease in the air, a comforting return to normality. But did normal include him taking your hand again? Or were you just going to go back to being a simple classmate? The second idea seemed more bitter. You would have liked to stay like that, in the softness of a room where, even if it was full of clothes, you were naked in the eyes of the heart.

"It's a good thing the trip is coming to an end," you admitted reassuringly, the impatience to know what the year's continuity had in store for you residing close to your soul.

The alarm went off, and you gasped before bringing your hand to your forehead to sigh. Time was just up. Viktor laughed as you recovered from your disorientating shock.

"Let's go," he offered as he opened the door and held it open for you, "before Jayce ends up martyred to the Werewolf."

You laughed lightly, breaking away from the wall to step out into the corridor as he followed you. Your heart was still pounding in your ears, and you couldn't decide whether that was a result of your surprise at the alarm, or whether it was due to the phantom feel of Viktor's fingers on your skin.

How lucky, you thought, that his digits hadn't wandered up your wrist to discover the erratic rhythm of your pulse.

The two of you walked back to the living room, another duo designated to take your place as you appeared.

Fiora seemed deeply disappointed that your lips weren't mutually swollen or your hair a mess and that you were returning as she'd left you.

"Joining us for a new game?" questioned Lux excitedly.

"Absolutely," you confirmed as you sat down on the sofa and Viktor, unable to get back his place on the armchair, sat down next to you.

Fiora redistributed the cards, promising one last game before adding more players so that the games would last longer and not end as quickly as the previous one, which you and Viktor had won hands down.

You picked up your card, bringing it discreetly to your eyes: hunter.

After finishing a game in which the hunter had killed you, you were taking on his role. You put your card down in front of you, and Viktor did the same. You wondered whether he was a werewolf again, whether he would target you if he was, or whether he too had a different role.

"The village falls asleep," Fiora began again.

You closed your eyes, happy in the knowledge that you would only have to be attentive and not active, given your sleeping role.

"I call upon Cupid," Fiora proclaimed, "designate two players who will love each other until death do them part."

You waited a moment, feeling Fiora move slightly in space. "Good, Cupid you can go back to sleep. I'm now going to touch the heads of the two lovers, who will wake up and recognise each other."

You could feel her moving, hearing her footsteps on the carpet, until you felt her hand press down on your head. Brilliant. You thought you could play a game without having to go through debates and stuff, but here you were, having to watch someone's back.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see who might have been your love for the game. Everyone in front of you had their eyes closed, and you frowned before turning to Viktor.

He was awake.

You were the lovers of this game.

The lovers' card came to mind in Eris's draw, and a wave of heat ran through your body.

You arched an eyebrow, eyes half-closed and chin high, offering a wink in response to his gesture from the previous game. His eyes darkened for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across the corner of his lips.

"Lovers can go back to sleep, or do what lovers do," Fiora smiled, your eyes rolling up to the sky as you closed them.

The rest of the night went on, you paying little attention to what was going on, though your thoughts kept returning to the feel of his hand on yours, his warmth, his tenderness. The more time passed, the more this idiotic allergy theory crumbled. You wouldn't look for symptoms of an allergy to happen again, so why did you feel so drawn to his touch? To his words? To him?

What would happen if you engaged even slightly physically? Would he be disgusted by it? Would he be embarrassed? Would he move away like he had ended up doing?

There was only one way to find out.

Gently then, tentatively, you pressed your knee against his. Your heart was racing, so much so that it was difficult to hear anything other than the rapid rhythm of its drumming in your eardrums.

A second went by, then another, and another, and you wondered if you shouldn't have withdrawn your leg after such a ridiculous gesture.

But just before you pulled away after a good ten more seconds had passed, he pressed his knee against yours, not as a request to pull away, but as an acceptance.

You tried very slowly to let out a sigh of relief, the air escaping in bumps as your heartbeat cut it off slightly.

"The village wakes up," Fiora finally announced.

You hadn't thought about the fact that eventually you'd have to open your eyes, and the idea of meeting Viktor's gaze again after that attempt, from which you still hadn't moved, scared you a little.

But you had to open your eyes, and so you put them on Fiora to listen to what she had to say and concentrate.

"Last night, the werewolves claimed a victim." She moved towards Orcelyia. "After firing her arrow, it seems she didn't use it to defend herself." She picked up her card, showing it to everyone. "Cupid died last night."

So Orcelyia, who had previously died because of your relentlessness against her, had no doubt decided to take revenge by putting you two in love.

You met her gaze as she slumped back on her sofa.

"Another alchemist who didn't save a victim," Garen remarked.

"So maybe an alchemist who's in love again," theorised Sky.

You were perhaps realising this pattern. Was Viktor saving his life potion to save you in the potential event where you'd be designated a victim?

As the others began to put forward their theories, you let them do so without saying anything, your thoughts too busy on the contact that you and Viktor had.

It was just two knees, two limbs from two different bodies, bones covered in muscles covered in skin and then clothes, nothing more and nothing less. So, if that's all it was, why couldn't you stop thinking about it?

Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that you had thought about doing it? Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that you'd done it? Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that he had returned the gesture and hadn't moved back?

The conversation passed without you paying much attention, except that Lux and Garen seemed rather devious. Maybe it was just the brother and sister effect, you thought. So the vote of the day came, and Sky was chosen, the theory being that since she had been linked to Orcelyia in previous games, she would have tried to make herself feel safe about being a werewolf by killing her to prove that she would never have done that. But the verdict was in: she was the little girl.

The village went back to sleep, without you meeting Viktor's eyes, but without forgetting him. It seemed as if every light and reflection that had lit up his eyes so far came back to you under closed lids.

The night of the power cut, when the almond of light from the candle had been lodged in his pupils, the morning after passing out when he'd slept at your bedside before waking up for the sun to settle in his eyes, and just then when his eyes were reflecting the little orange glow.

You had been used to cold lights, to the Safphire burning in Selene's hearth, to the darkness of the night, to the depths of a neon-lit city. 

And he had come to illuminate all this, as the day set to let the night live on, the two coming together in a single colour that proved to be his favourite - the one he preferred.

Fiora called out to the players one by one until the village awoke.

"Last night there was a real massacre," Fiora exclaimed theatrically. "Not one, but two people died!"

"Did the lovers die?" questioned Garen.

"The Alchemisy used his death potion?" exclaimed Lux.

"You'd better believe it," smiled Fiora. "Last night, found amongst her incense and candles, Jayce was killed," she uncovered his card, "and Jayce was the card reader."

"I was going to make it all right!" he exclaimed as he brought his face into his hands.

"Don't worry, Jayce" Fiora comforted though, "because out of your two killers, one died last night." She turned to Lux. "The alchemist had concocted a deeply devastating elixir that very night, capable of taking out any man..." she grabbed the girl's card and turned it around for all to see, "or any beast."

You smiled, Lux sighed and tilted her head back in disappointment. Now there was only Garen left.

"It seems it's always the two of us against everyone, Miss," Viktor smiled, his knee pressing ever so slightly against yours as a small sign of victory. 

"You..." Garen opened his mouth into a smile as a unique burst of laughter rose up his throat, "of course you were the lovers."

"Hmm," Viktor hummed, frowning with a thoughtful expression. "What are we going to do with him?"

"Well," you pressed your lips into an inverted smile as you watched Garen, "if you live by the river, I got a bag."

"Just finish this already," Garen sighed, pointing at you again for his vote as the two of you pointed at him.

"And just like that," Fiora walked over to Garen and picked up the card, "the reign of the werewolves ends with the union of two lovers."

You turned to Viktor, a victorious smile tugging at your lips as you offered him your hand to shake. Was it a simple desire for politeness in the gesture of having played so well as your sidekick, or was it another unconscious desire to feel his hand close to yours?

He smiled back, shaking your hand. The handshake wasn't very long, just to seal your victory in everyone's eyes, but you couldn't help noticing the way his thumb lightly caressed your hand before withdrawing.

"Another game?" suggested Fiora.

And so the evening continued, the group of students growing in size as roles were added and debates sparked. You laughed when Jayce let out an ‘ouch!’ when Fiora touched his head to determine who the lovers were, or when Orcelyia almost grabbed Garen by the collar when he referred to her as a werewolf even though she was a villager.

The strategy Garen had given you ended up coming handy when you both were werewolves, and it became evident that you’d bring this game back to Zaun to teach it to some kids.

When those who closed their eyes during the night part of the game finally really felt actual sleep taking them, the living room began to empty little by little, until there were only too few students left to play games. Some had returned to the hotel or to their homes, others had taken free rooms to sleep there. What about you? Well, you were helping to tidy up a little.

Fatigue began to pull you as you put the few remaining cups in the trash. Your eyes rested on two of them, sticking close to one another - yours and Viktor's, near each other.

Your shoulders sagged, his name next to yours now seeming to you more than simple letters, more than simple black strokes on plastic, more than two names on a list of league tables.

You pressed your thumb against your fingers, remembering the feeling of his hand on yours, and your two knees joined on the couch, and his eyes…

You shook your head, turning away from the kitchen to leave the apartment. Jayce had already accompanied Viktor home earlier in the evening, Garen and Lux had left earlier, Sky and Orcelyia were probably occupying a room, while Fiora was probably sleeping in her bed very comfortably.

You were leaving the house, the morning freshness making you regret forgetting a jacket. You didn't expect to have so much fun, to stay so long, or to experience all this. The delicate sunrise was your morning caress, accompanying you alone until you reached the hotel. 

Even if the outside was profoundly silent and was barely waking up, your thoughts were all jostling in your head as you went over each event of the evening, catching each one like fireflies in your hands and delicately observing their light between your fingers.

Inside, the personnel were already busy preparing the buffet – today it was hotel brunch and therefore was open until noon. You felt that after a meager sleep, you would find great comfort in a cup of coffee.

You walked mechanically to the end of the corridor leading to your room, inserting the key with a lack of energy, but you stopped in your gestures. You turned to the door facing it, Viktor's.

If you opened your own door, it would have been like leaving again for seven minutes in the paradise of memories, ready to recast your entire conversation, for your eyes to annotate your thoughts by rewinding the track, your heart making close-ups on the most important passages. His eyes, his hands, your fingers tied. No element would be forgotten.

You pressed the handle of your room, not finding there the dimness of the orange nightlight, but the blue of the mosaics and slabs. You closed the curtains, pulled yourself out of your shoes and pants with great fatigue, and collapsed on your bed.

Your eyes rested on the ceiling, stinging with fatigue as you fought a hard battle with your lids. Your hand rested on your heart, the latter beating under your t-shirt, covering your skin covering your muscles covering your bones.

You inhale gently while closing your eyes, and it's as if you were breathing him in.

All these sensations that were turning upside down in you, you didn't know what they were. But one thing was certain, you didn't want them to stop.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

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[maacbrem]

The level of tension Brennan is able to build in so little time and then maintain is both impressive and deeply distressing. Some Divergence episode one/character thoughts:

Erro!! Sad old mapmaker dragonborn who I love immediately. “Give and take and take and take…” A man who’s too tired for optimism but appreciates it in others instead of miring them in his own darkness. Liam once again bringing that ‘irrevocably changed by loss and being so brave about it (or am I)’ energy to the table and I’m THRIVING.

Nia is so good, there’s an edge to her but she so obviously wants to choose gentleness - but the kind of gentleness that sends a dying man off to rest, sweet but not saccharine. Is this really Celia’s first time playing? They’re doing amazing and I want them in more games immediately.

Crokas is my son in real life actually, I raised him and keep him in my pocket and feed him little treats. Monitor lizard carrying the kids on his back is such a good visual I’m weeping. I think dragonborns should nuzzle as a show of affection and also nothing bad should happen to any of them except that bronze asshole. Alex kills it with the creature sounds and physicality (I need to revisit la by night at some point…). Imagine making eye contact with a lightning strike and making it laugh.

Garen’s introduction set him up to be the naysayer, the pessimist, broken and tired, but the moment it became an option he wanted nothing more than to look for survivors and rebuild. He believes that there will be a future worth living, one worth fighting for, even after the end of the world. He got exactly one (two?) good rolls all night and we’re all very proud of Matt.

Fiedra is the hardest to read, but I was immediately obsessed with her crew and the dynamic she had with that guard. The dice undermined her but she seems to be a sharp, capable person who figured out how to assert control over her life while a prisoner, if only in small ways. I want to know where she came from and what she wants beyond pure survival - I want to know if she can even conceive of something beyond survival. The RP chemistry between Jasmine and Brennan makes me want to see her play in a more light-hearted game with him, they’re a great match in terms of humour from the little bit we got to see.

[julietwiskey1]

Thinking any timebomb or lightcannon with Isha, taking care of her alongside jinx, loving her just as much as jinx does...

Both Ekko and Lux absolutely adore Isha. But it’s a bit different for both of them.

Ekko has known Jinx for a long time. Seeing her with Isha reminds him of her before everything went down. About how happy and care free she used to be, how she can be that again. Just older and more mature.

Lux meets Jinx and knows from the start Isha is part of the package. This is a woman who would do anything for their child/little sister. How Jinx is accepting of Isha and tries her best to light up her world makes Lux wish that her parents would have done that for her. Instead it reminds Lux a bit more of Garen and how he treated her.

I think both Lux and Ekko take differently to Isha. Ekko has a lot of experience with kids, if it’s firelights in canon or community groups in fiction he’s been a role model a lot. A cool older brother figure to more kids than he could count. He’s comfortable and confident around Isha. What he isn’t used to is being the boyfriend or having a kid who’s his.

For awhile Ekko seemed to be kind of dismissive of her. Trying to push her towards other friends her age. It’s good, but it sort of made him seem overall uninterested in her, like she was just another kid in the community. Jinx kicks it into him one day that Isha is important to her and that he needs to give her special attention if he wants their relationship to work. Because Isha is now his daughter too.

Lux herself is low key kind of terrified of kids at first. Children are not her strong suit, she didn’t have much of a chance to be one herself. But she is quick to try and make up for her shortcomings. Often caving to any of Isha demands, and look if Jinx said no to something imagine how out there it has to be. Eventually Lux regains her confidence in the dynamic and puts a stop to both Jinx’s and Isha’s plans when they go too far.

Lux though loves to teach. With someone so spirited as Isha she teaches her sword fighting and wrestling. Lux shows her magic and is someone else that lights up Isha’s world. Lux is glad to see Isha as her little sister.

Jinx for her part loves to watch both of them with Isha from the shadows. Watch as they play or teach her something new. Knowing that there is someone else in Isha’s world for her. Someone who will take her in if the worst happens to Jinx.

[renatogpadilla]

After "Arcane" ended, I fell into a bit of a LoL rabbit hole (I know, I know, TERRIBLE idea!) and came upon the friendship (crush? 👀) between Jinx and Lux, which I believe we'll be seeing in the inevitable Demacia show, but I also realized something while looking into it.

In Episode 7 of Season 2, Ekko and Powder have that wonderful dance scene to "Ma Meillorie Ennemie" which means that, canonically, the French Language exists within Runeterra, and the only character with a French accent in LoL, to my knowledge, is Fiora, from Demacia. This leads me to believe that "Demacian" as a language is spoken by born Nobles of the kingdom, like a symbol of status. Since Lux doesn't have an accent, I like to believe she hides it and she and her brother Garen can speak it fluently if need be, but they keep their neutral accents to show they're "staying in their lane", but drop back into their accent when speaking normally among themselves... As an aside, I also headcanon that Caitlyn can speak it, or at least understand it, because she's just posh like that, though that's neither here nor there.

But back to "Arcane", this led me to two conclusions:

Number one: For a kingdom of medieval mage-haters and being the sword-and-shield fantasy stereotype, Demacia has some unexpectedly modern club bangers. (Something about a Timebomb love song being in Lux's native language tickles my brain in some good way.)

And number two: If their friendship is as close as it seems, Jinx is gonna come back knowing AT LEAST a few insults in French...

But moreso than that, I can't help but imagine a moment when someone in Demacia talks shit about Jinx being criminal scum or some such, which Jinx can't understand, and it's Lux (sweet, innocent, just delightful, Lady Lux!) who proceeds to go FULL MEROVINGIAN and unleashes the most SCATHING, vulgar and absolutely career-ending string of perfect French Demacian anyone has heard in recent memory, just absolutely COOKS the guy to the point that she has to consciously stop herself from lighting up and ACTUALLY cooking him and then turns around with Jinx in one arm (that's just her bestie, she swears!) and walks off in a huff, red in the face...

And Jinx can't understand what she said, but she finds it INCREDIBLY hot.

Just the thought of Jinx finding out her new friend has an accent for the first time by her defending her honor sounds absolutely wonderful to me. And after "Arcane", she deserves a bestie (👀?) like Lux to help her heal before going back home for her man and her sister...

[xi-xi-chen]

About the kid idea: I kinda imagine Kid Vi, Claggor, Mylo and Powder breaking into the house where the Crownguard are temporarily staying in Piltower in order to steal some shit and Pow ends up accidentally meeting Lux.

The two of them ends up having fun playing together while the rest try to escape from Garen who is chasing them.

In the end they escape but:

They realize that they forgot Powder inside and they have to go back in the mansion to recover her. When they go back Garen, covered in paint, opens them the door and tells them to take Powder back… and bring her back tomorrow because he has never seen his sister so happy.

Powder goes back to the Lanes by herself… but she brought Lux with her and the rest of them have to try to convince her to send her back home while Powder is like “But she wasn’t happy there and they didn’t like when she does the sparkly stuff with her powers!” Meanwhile Vander is split between sending Lux back home or keep her.

Oh my goodness, I know they're kids, but of course they'd forget Powder in the buidling haha. I like this idea and it's so cute, and I wonder what troubles would happen towards the investigation and such.

[marcussour]

EXU Divergence E02 random thoughts and bits

Liam's Time Cop's back again

Time Regulation 420.69 NICE

STR 21 at LVL 0, damn

Also, is just, here's a vestige, thanks Stormlord

Crokas just entered, fullthrotle, into the CR Pantheon of fav characters

"I was foolish enough to believe I understood this world"

How on earth both Liam and Jasmine manage to repeat their rolls, and these are nat 1 and 2

3 Nat 1s Liam, come on

"You succeed and do not die"

Seriously, coming out of a campaign that ended with literal legends like VM and M9 at lvl 20 fighting massive world ending threats and Bells Hells at a really high level fighting a literal god eater, and also how both Calamity and Downfall went, the fact that here, like Brennan said, a hike through the woods (and massive rainfall and ash, and the risk of starvation) might as well caused a TPK if it wasn't for some good rolls now and then, that's a change of pace if I've ever seen one

We love 2 lesbian matriarchs (halfling and goblin) who run a woodland community

Fiedra, the original elf on a shelf (or halfling in this case, but y'all get it)

Crokas my beloved, you absolute legend

Garen using all that dwarven know how to find the best booze, I feel seen

Incredible find by Garen

I said it before, in a Candela Obscura maybe, but they really should adopt the closeups for personal 1 on 1 conversations for the main campaign. I know it's way more people on the table and maybe that makes it more technically difficult, but I think it really adds more depth, especially when it's people on oposite sides of the table

Congratulations, heroes of the Divergence. Loved that D20 like interjection before the time skip towards the next day.

Fiedra one day: almost dies. Fiedra the next day: back into mischief. What an icon.

It tells a lot about Fiedra that she tries to keep Crokas kinda a bit at arms lenght with the whole "bodyguard". Like, babe, those are attachment and trust issues from *gestures everywhere*, I get it, and its really interesting

Great to see that the Roaches survived... also Keph, what the actual fuck

Oh, who's gonna be the one to take out Marlath eventually, because there's no way that piece of shit's gonna survive the campaign. Look, I'm a lawyer, I've seen motherfuckers like him for years, no loss there

Hey look, a tiefling, long time we haven't seen one -not counting Jester-.

A cleric named Luz, again, not subtle, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Was it Snowvale or Snowgrave pass?

What's a bureaucrat without a bureaucracy.

This whole little vignette of the construction of the wall and the bridge, and the difference between a ruler and a leader? incredible

I can imagine that the soldiers are actually like, level 1 or 2, maybe 3 or 4 the leader, but since our PC's are level 0, I can imagine what a challenge this will be

Great move by Erro

Love the excitement of everyone seeing their minis. I wish they would've shown them more on camera

Wonder if the exhaustion points are gonna matter in this battle or not

Oh no, just 1 point of damage for everyone

So that's were the title of the episode came from

They're so fragile at lvl 0, a couple of hits and Erro's already down

That kenku's another certified Brennan's little guys

Love that we already entered into "Seven Samurai" territory

Crokas becomes a storm avatar??!!!! Again, what a legend, going full Godzilla against the Strife Emperor's soldiers

RIP Luz (or maybe not?)

"To respect the free will of all beings means to respect when one has made themselves an obstacle to a kinder world"

WAY TO GO NIA! LVL 1 MOONWEAVER CLERIC!

There's my zoom for the minis!

"Change is coming... AND I AM CHANGE"

Both dragonborns are down now

FIRST LEVEL ROGUE!

Nice detail the portraits of the characters gaining color the moment they level up

Crokas with a nat 20 on the death saving throw, see, already a CR legend

Oh, interesting, Crokas is a monk, I though it was gonna be some kind of barbarian (also, he's level 1 and already doing badass monk shit)

Also, from the way they all reacted to Alex not remembering that Crokas was a monk, I assume that all of them settled for a class before the whole being level 0

Brennan and his love for British Bake Off

And Erro's a ranger (which I guess now makes sense of Brennan saying at the beginning of the battle that Erro approached the soldiers like a ranger)

Poor Garen, the only one that didn't level up

Oh, so that's why Matt's reacted with a "WHAT???" to that Nat 20 by Alex

Look at those babies calming Crokas

I know that it's just how the dice rolls, but the fact that it's Nia the one that has lost people dear to her in both episodes.

Oh, Fiedra making an appointment behind Torm's Hill in the forest, I think she's really gonna kill Marlath.

Fiedra raised Crokas? wow

Now it's Snowgrace pass

GIGANTIC MONK SHIT

Marlath's not only a bureaucrat and the worst kind of layer, he's also a fucking capitalist

"You have to beat a 6", "That's a 23"

Oh, that's amazing, I thought that they were gonna kill him, but they "just" cut his tongue.

So interesting that Matt took the option of not gaining a level.

Well, we're halfway through the story, and it's a clean break as any, even though we have the goal of finding Nia's family. Wonder how things will continue.

[arcaneconfessions]

Look I know that not every bad thing popping up about arcane "fans" is what the actual general fans of arcane are like, but damn.... I fear and would hate if any of these "fans" get a hold on to other champions of league. I say this now because of the current thing happening after the "Welcome to Noxus" cinematic.

Way before I knew of league, I came across storyboard for a cancelled movie of league featuring Katarina and Garen. I love that draft animation, it became the first lol content I consumed and the first league ship I actually like. I'm not a league player, I just love animations in general so I watch complete, wip, or abinded vids in youtube. I just found the pairing interesting after reading all the comments in that video, which was posted before arcane.

I'm all for fans shipping characters, but what's happening currently is quite sad. For any of you can't understand my dissappointment with what's happening, imagine: CaitVi has been hinted and has interactions that they're in a relationship for years, other champions know it. Now, still follwing along? Good. Now, the moment one of them are introduce to the general audience (let's say it's Vi), people latched onto to them because they look cool (understandable). Then someone asks, are they for the guys? IMO, it's fair question especially if you didn't know the character at all. A veteran fan comes in and answers, " No, she's lesbian and in a relationship with a Piltover Cop : Caitlyn kiramman". Then suddenly people who never knew these characters lores, hates on Caitlyn even if they don't know anything about her and made judgements as well as starts attacking fans of the CaitVi ship, just because Vi is in a relationship with another woman. Like I get it you don't like the ship because of actual criticisms, espcially if you actually know the lore of these characters but to hate a character because you want them to be for the guys only.... it sounds fucking terrible right? RIGHT?

Look, I get that the amount of wlw ships we have are still lacking, but please for the love of whatever or whoever you respect, please don't start attacking fans of hetero ships. KatGaren is the first ever relationship league of legends, and league have created comics about them for years and other characters from different regions also knew about it. (This is not some fanon interpretation.) It might not be as toxic as toxic yuri and yaoi we all grown to love but istg, a cliche, Vanila and bread straight ship are still good. Please 😭.

Some of ya'll are making me understand why people are annoyed then starts saying the "Not everything is gay" phrase Garen is not even my and otther people's favorite champion (because he is seen as boring, plain, or bland), but ya'll got people defending him. Heck, even haters of the KatGaren ship is defending it now because of how much ya'll start attacking the ship just because someone said Katarina is not for the gals only.

I thought ya'll clowning on Jayce is already bad, but ya'll attacking Garen despite not even being introduced, animated or even alluded to is insane. Please give this spin to win, by the books, himbo a chance guys. I sincerely fear what happens to this fandom when we get a Demacia focused series. I'm hoping that by the time they announce it, we all became chill and not become a mirror of what the game community of league is like and became known for.

- sincerely from a league lore and arcane fan

.

[our-hextech-dream]

just imagining ezreal thinking he's successfully pulling off his first, most meticulously planned heist in noxus because everything is going so smoothly, he's not seen a single person in the whole castle, like wow for the War Country these guys have really shitty personal security! in the capital even! this is way easier than trying to steal anything from demacia, garen would be scruffing him like a kitten and throwing him into a jail cell by now.

like, there's a group of ravens watching him teleport from room to room to rampart to wet creepy dungeon while he's looking for the ancient artefact he heard was kept here somewhere, but honestly a bunch of creepy birds isn't even the weirdest thing he's seen on a job. (well, presumably it's a bunch, even though he only sees one at a time. it's not like it could be the same bird following him around, haha.) the rulers of noxus must be really dedicated to the aesthetic to keep that many weirdo birds in random places in their own homes - but he gets it, he was raised in a clan in piltover. people with too much money and power always turn out like that eventually. at least the birds are quiet, just watchful.

[mrjgain]

If you like league, imagine how hot it'd be to be Tahm Kench, Gragas, or Udyr ;) I'm sure you've thought about it

Darius is absolute peak💯, but also really like Graves/TF, Garen, Sett, and Udyr.

[arclundarchivist]

So, we’re heading to Vasselheim following a meeting with yet another deity and the acquiring of half a dozen vestiges.

With some of the Betrayers still free…

I sense I know where this is going.

I do wonder if the party will have gained more levels by the time we see them next because I imagine a fair bit of time is going to pass for them to be at Vasselheim next session.

The revelation that Nia and the Moonweaver are sisters was fucking crazy.

But I’m starting to fully believe that Garen is the Allhammer. Odd connection to Dwarven kind as a whole, lack class level still, muddy memories.

Aeor fell some time ago yes, and Garen is old, but their plot to become mortal required them to grow to adult hood and come into their own, but what if Garen just never got the revelation.

But since we know some of the Betrayers refused to go along with the plan what if the Strife Emperor sought to imprisons one of his kin in a mortal body, breaking their spirit and mind to do so, and as such Garen doesn’t have any inking of who he actually is.

Seeing the world begin to take the shape of what we’ve known Tal’Dorei to be was really cool, from the Mornset to Rifenmist and Byroden, but what I was not expecting at all was the reveal of the Agrupnin’s and Patia’s orb.

The Orb of Avalir, which clearly has become part of the Knowing Mistress’s purview, likely setting forward the idea that the Cobalt Soul emerged from Avalir’s Eye and Archivist.

Crokas… is a monk, which would be kinda wild lol.

But then I have to ask, how did it know about what befell Aeor, how were those thoughts within it?

And building off that, would that not mean if Orb is within the hands of the Soul, they knew about what transpired in Aeor, better than most??

Lot of questions, likely won’t get all the answers. Very curious to see what the final episode holds.

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 13 - Five of Swords

summary : your first day spent in Demacia doesn't bring out the best of you.

content warnings : angst. like pull out the tissues angst. no comfort. also some flirting shit? oh and tension. a good meal overall i hope

word count : 8,2k

author's note : okay so i'm trying to survive classes and i tried writing this baby during the week while on the metro. it's quite a pain in the heart but hey dw it'll get better i promise.

proofread the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

masterlist．．discord ．．playlist．．my ko-fi

The short journey to your place of residence prepared for the students had been deeply unbearable.

Demacians seemed to have a majority of water-related transport. You weren't really surprised, given that Demacia was known for its beaches and its inextricable links with the water that surrounded it for trade and tourism.

However, after that rather short night in a bed that wasn't very pleasant, you would have liked to have had a moment to settle down and enjoy a brief trip in a transport to observe the landscapes.

But walking was unavoidable. A horde of suitcase rollers were catching up on the white flagstones of the streets of the great city of Demacia. 

It was almost impossible to imagine the city as anything other than sunny. Its great white walls seemed incorruptibly pure, the sun bathing the sides of the citadel in resplendent light, while its blue slate domes gleamed in the sunlight like fish scales. 

You expected the city to have a cold atmosphere, an overly wise and tense staticity brought about by the strictness for which it was famous. But the markets were full of colour, crates full of exotic goods with colour combinations you only thought possible on paintings, rich fabrics and tourist attractions of all kinds bundling up in certain streets.

It was a city that combined the marine fluidity of its airs and waters with the formidable stability of its rocks and swords. It was almost impossible not to find a guard at every turn, to the point where it was almost more oppressive than reassuring. The sight of so many passers-by crossing the streets and their safety, however, softened the sensation.

And although you couldn't wait to take a shower and relax, the desire to wander the streets of this new place grew with every step you took. What a thrill it is to explore.

All this could have been superb, of course, if it hadn't been for a single factor that splashed mud all over this first immersion: Fiora.

Clinging to Viktor like a mussel to its rock, she had never stopped monopolising him and imposing her continuity. She pulled Viktor's suitcase like she was pulling a bin bag, pressing herself against him and laughing much more than necessary at every little interjection he made, often punctuating it with "What an interesting thing to say" or "Vikkie you're so funny!"

Vikkie, the nickname made your skin crawl with embarrassment. But what probably bothered you most was the fact that Viktor didn't do anything in particular to stop it. Was he just being polite? Or did he genuinely enjoy her company?

"Yes, she's always like that," Garen finally added with a sigh, his eyes visibly attentive to where yours were resting.

You sighed. "How long have you been handling her?"

He chuckled. "I think we're about to hit the second year in a row of a dreadfully thorny situation."

"Two years," you huffed, imagining what it would have been like if you and Viktor had carried on with that litter of stupid nemeses for so long.

"Yes ma'am," Garen nodded, himself seeming slightly surprised by this realisation.

"And has it always been like this?" 

"It gets worse when new things arrive and she wants said new things," he informed. "She needs to have her hands on the new, shiny toy."

"Is she a princess?" you questioned.

"Akin," Garen's gaze rested tiredly on Fiora's figure, raising his eyebrows, "she is the heir to one of the biggest families of Demacia."

"Damn," you whispered. "And she bites, I take it?"

"She is a fierce duellist, best one around here," grimaced Garen. "I wouldn't advise making any waves or tormenting her, she has a tendency to start useless gossip behind your back."

You nodded, taking in the information Garen had so graciously given you. "Crowns have strange effects on the heads they adorn."

He nodded, obviously finding your words accurate.

It didn't take you long to arrive at a building of at least six storeys, seemingly the same length as the point separating Zaun from Piltover and as wide as the length of The Young Prince. 

What had struck you so far was the geometry of the city. All the architecture of its streets was millimetre-perfect, everything mirroring each other almost impossibly perfectly like a surface on clear water. Arches of white stone criss-crossed in the air, no pillar was odd, and even the clothes of the residents were surgically symmetrical. It was almost disconcerting.

"The Hôtel Félixérie has graciously approved your accommodation as part of your stay," informed Madame Diane, turning to the group of students. "We'll leave you to drop off your belongings and take a moment to relax and get to know your room-mates a little better."

You'd imagined that the dormitories would be paired up again, and you'd probably expected the Piltover students to be with each other once more. However, Diane interrupted this train of thought.

"For fairly obvious reasons, the rooms will not be mixed. If your duos involve sex and gender differences, we will assign you to different rooms."

Their restrictions were totally acceptable, however, if the little gears in your brain weren't wrong, a terrible revelation took over.

You would have to share your room with Fiora.

You turned towards her, the latter already looking at you like a vermin to be eradicated, or the most useless thing this earth could have borne.

"Come forward, so we can allocate your rooms and take it into consideration."

So the group of students moved towards the teachers, your quartet staying back, Garen following to collect your room numbers. You reached Fiora, who was about your height, if perhaps a little shorter - which didn't stop her looking down on you for anything in the world.

So you watched her stature, her arm still firmly wrapped around Viktor.

You chuckled, observing the situation. "Are you going to sleep with him like he's your teddy bear? Or are you big enough to sleep without one."

Viktor turned to you, half surprised and half grateful. She arched an eyebrow at you, blowing out a laugh from her nose. "Scared of a child?"

"I'm not as spoiled of a kid as you," you replied.

"What is the ugly little thing saying?" she questioned.

"She's saying that you've got looks, and money," you remarked, "one of them is bound to run out."

She gave you a petty little smile. "Guess I'm rich in all cases. I still have twice more than you own."

"And twice more to lose," you pointed out, frowning, "and I don't lose."

She giggled, her upper lip rising in frustration. "So confident."

Your eyes looked her up and down, two thin slits under your eyebrows. "So ignorant."

"Viktor?" inquired Garen to cut short this obviously mindless discussion once he'd come back. "We're sharing the same room, do you need help with your belongings?"

The Zaunite's suitcase was still in Fiora's hand. She said nothing, ignoring you as she straightened her chin and let go of Viktor's arm as well as his luggage, exchanging a glance with Garen who seemed impassive to her attitude.

Viktor exchanged glances with you and then Garen. "No need," he confirmed politely.

"Alright," smiled Garen, turning to your little group, "we're all on the ground floor. Room 020 for Viktor and me, room 021 for you two,’ he explained as he handed you your keys, Fiora not even unlocking her arms from her chest to take the ones Garen was handing her.

"As if I was to share my room with someone like you," Fiora almost choked out.

"At least something we agree on," you breathed before pulling your suitcase towards the building.

You had only one thing on your mind: taking a shower and putting on clean clothes. Demacia had a warmer climate than Piltover, and although the sun wasn't high in the sky, the air was already hot, and your walk to the hotel didn't help the feeling.

The interior of the hotel was charming, managing to bring warmth to its ambience despite its cold bluish tones. It didn't take you long to find your room, shoving the key into the lock more hastily than you would have liked.

You pulled your suitcase onto a tiled floor with hexagonal stones alternating royal blue and creamy white, two thick beds next to each other already making you regret coming here just from the perspective of who would take the second one. You placed your suitcase on the side of the bed you'd settled on taking, removing your coat, which was already far too warm for your back and shoulders.

There was a knock at the door, and you turned to see Garen, his stature taking up almost all the light in the corridor in the silhouette of the door.

"Got the word from Madame Lolanthe," he began, "the Piltover students get a one hour break in their rooms before we come back to get you ready for the Academy visit."

"Okay," you nodded, getting rid of your scarf, "thank you for telling me."

"No problem," he smiled, leaning against the doorway, "You hold up to her well."

"Hold up to her?" you repeated, almost confused.

"That talk about the looks, and the money," he noted, "I know who's words I'll repeat whenever she gets on my nerves again."

You smiled. "One will buy you sympathy, the other will buy you the rest. Unfortunate that with her great wealth she can't buy me," you sighed, folding your scarf to lay it on the corner of your bed. "She doesn't seem to like it very much."

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's because she's never had someone come on her territory and impose themselves so easily."

You arched an eyebrow, a small sneer tugging at the corner of your lips. "I'm imposing?"

He chuckled. "To her? She won't ever admit it, but you're terrifying."

"And to you?" you questioned, "Am I any threat to the sublime of a Demacian student like you?"

He considered you for a moment. "That remains to be seen."

You smiled at him one more time, placing your suitcase on your bed to open it. 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to engage in verbal fencing with you. So far at least you've given me no reason to do so," you explained as you took out your toiletries.

"I shall do everything in my power for it to remain as such," he confirmed, placing his hand on his chest solemnly and bowing his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your rest, see you in an hour."

"See you in an hour," you repeated simply as he disappeared from the doorway. 

He reminded you of Jayce, but wiser, more chivalrous than naive, more observant than questioning.

So you finally grabbed some new clothes and headed for the second room in your bedroom, which was undoubtedly the bathroom. Were you all so stinky that the Demacians urged you to shower at all costs? It would have been funny, an unnecessary rivalry in a programme that encouraged the exact opposite.

The bathroom was an elegant composition of blue, white and pearly grey mosaics. Two wash basins carved from rough white stone stood next to each other in front of a large oval horizontal mirror. In the corner to your left was the toilet, and in the corner to your right was the ivory-white bathtub.

You were almost tempted to pick up your suitcase and put it in the bathroom with you while you showered, just to make sure that the bratty Fiora didn't come poking around in it or doing anything stupid.

After all, in your belongings was an object that could potentially get you into a lot of trouble here if it were found: your tarot deck.

Demacia's little worry in this instance was a deep-seated aversion to magic and all that surrounds it. Who wouldn't be when the history of its people was rooted in magical wars and the terror that ensued? Petricite, the material from which their protection came from the trees of their forests, was undoubtedly in abundance in the walls surrounding you. It was almost oppressive, as if the air were less breathable, more contained than ever in a box.

You stripped off your clothes and slipped under the water, which must also have been filtered specifically for petricite. It seemed almost dry, leaving an unpleasantly light sensation on your skin as you soaped yourself up almost furiously.

Your thoughts returned to your Tarot deck. You just hoped that the energies wouldn't affect it, and that you wouldn't be caught red-handed. You would have to be discreet about this activity, however naive, to avoid any lightning strikes.

You took your time to prepare yourself. You put on some simple clothes for the rest of the day, something comfortable enough to move around in and not suffer from the heat, and rearranged your suitcase, making sure you looked perfectly presentable.

You left your room after slipping your suitcase under your bed, knocking on the door of your comrade to whom you hadn't been able to speak since you set foot on Demacian soil.

"Come in," answered the familiar accent behind the door.

You turned the handle, opening the door to find Viktor sitting on one of the two beds. He seemed to be busy placing a particular mechanism on his bad leg, a strap running from his lower thigh to the sole of his shoe. He was bent over, arranging a sort of screw-on part on the side of his knee.

The system seemed to be complex, an orthopaedic support made of metal and leather for better stability, no doubt, in the same way that corsets were worn for scoliosis.

You'd never seen him wear it before.

"Is it in preparation for the walk we're about to go on?" you questioned.

He sighed heavily, rearranging a belt against his thigh and trying to smooth the creases in his trousers under the pressure. "Mademoiselle Laurent's brisk walk doesn't seem to have been very kind," he raised his amber gaze to yours, "I fear the upcoming days might be more difficult than what I expected."

You sighed, taking a step forward into the bedroom. "Yeah," you nodded, "not sure how I will handle the whole Fiora thing... At least Garen's nice so far."

His eyes moved from yours to his thigh again, tightening another bolt. "Mhm."

"You guys got cool rooms!" Jayce's voice made you turn towards him, coming from the other end of the corridor, poking his head through the doorways. "Ours is all..." he grimaced, his eyes crinkling as his upper lip lifted to the side, "green."

"Got something against the green of nature, Talis?" you remarked, arching an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not!" he snapped, raising his hands in the air to clear his throat. "It's just that ours is... ugly."

"Do you miss the gold of Piltover already?"

"A bit."

"Have the Kirammans changed you so much? Unless... has Mel got you used to luxury?"

"I-" he almost choked, but before he could pull himself together and resume his sentence, he frowned, mouth open. His eyes flicked to a point in the void before turning to Viktor, with whom he exchanged a glance. "Do you think what she thinks?"

Viktor breathed in, holding his breath for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and sighing in agreement. Jayce looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Am I... a high-class hooker?"

You grinned, putting your hand on his shoulder and patting it. "I think there are worse realisations in life than this."

"True, but... how do you know for sure."

"It's not a wildly complex diagnosis," Viktor remarked as he grabbed his cane and straightened up. "First the bottles of champagne with more than one zero."

"Then the petits fours," you pointed out.

"And the new shirts piling up in the dressing room..." Viktor continued.

"Fine!" stopped Jayce. ‘Fine, I see your point,’ he straightened up, trying to puff out his chest as he pretended to deconstruct the image you'd given him, sighing in vain as he watched you with plaintive eyes, "this is so bad isn't it?"

"It's the end of the world," you grinned.

Viktor shook his head, playing disappointment. "What happened to my work partner?"

"Hey!" squeaked Jayce.

Viktor turned to you. "Did you know he leaves the apartments three nights out of four to go see Mel?"

"What?" Your mouth opened in a terrible mock shock as you put your hand to your chest comically, "that's heartbreaking."

"I know," sighed Viktor dramatically, "I end up starring at the pile of his new shirts in the corner while I kill myself on work."

"Jayce," you huffed, "how could you?"

"Stop this! You two!" begged Jayce.

You finally smiled and gave up the act. "Relax, gold suits you anyway."

"You guys are the worst," grumbled Jayce as you and Viktor exchanged playful glances.

You headed out of the hotel, meeting up with Sky who instantly came over to you.

"That Fiora's already got you in her sights," she muttered.

You sighed, looking around as if to see if she was spying on you, but if she was, she wasn't within earshot. "I know, it's like I'm attracting them all like a magnet. Let's hope it doesn't last any longer than that, otherwise this trip may quickly be robbed of its holiday quality."

When the rest hour came to an end, Madame Diane finally showed up again an exact hour as the time she had left you. Their organisation was finely measured, timed and unforgivable.

Fiora couldn't help but regain her position as the cling-on next to Viktor.

"Pulled out your fanciest shoes for me?" she giggled as her eyes roamed Viktor's aid.

He sighed, "If I have to keep up with you, this is more than needed."

She gave you a dark look, though it was different from the one she'd previously thrown at you so far. There was a sort of flash of malice, an unpleasant aspect of that of a chess player with a sick and evil strategy.

You took no further notice as the walk to the Demacian Academy began.

You passed various buildings, Diane telling you a few little facts about the history of the streets and specific places. Jayce made comments here and there.

"How do they build such edifices?" he asked, amazed by the city's architecture and its intricacies.

"By piling stones on top of each other," you replied, Garen smiling beside you, your eyes witnessing Viktor's cheekbones rising at your remark from your view of his back.

You finally reached the Demacia Academy. Its campus formed a pile of wings of buildings of varying sizes and architecture. 

"Each study environment," as Madame Diane pointed out as you walked through the Academy's gardens, "is separated into its own buildings. We are privileged and proud to be able to welcome all kinds of cultures and knowledge within our walls. Humanities, Engineering, Art, all forms of wisdom are welcomed without any hierarchy."

Your eyes roamed over the bluish domed roofs, wondering if from the inside these same tiles covered all the light or if their material was transparent like sunglasses.

"A single point joins the students who wish it," she raised her long index finger in the air, pointing to the sky as if the almighty sky bequeathed to her every truth about the globe.

Garen pressed his palm against your shoulder, your eyes resting on it as he whispered into your ear.

"See over there?" the index finger of his hand on your shoulder, seemingly engulfing you by its size, pointed in a direction you followed.

"Mhm?" you hummed, observing a flat area that wasn't concreted over and seemed to be covered in a long, black, loose carpet.

"That's the training area," his warm breath brushed against your ear, "me and Fiora meet there every morning."

"We want our students to stay healthy and to help each other," Diane recited aloud.

Garen huffed, continuing to murmur. "If you'd like to see her lose eventually, this is where the show's at."

"Lose?" you repeated in a whisper, your eyes drifting to Fiora next to Viktor, who just seemed to have turned his head away.

"Mhm," said Garen before straightening up and letting go of your shoulder, "I've heard that it's something you don't do."

You smiled, a little laughy breath escaping from your lungs. 

"Thus, we have a training area dedicated to this," Diane continued, "our students can go there whenever they like, it's a free field. Now, if you don't mind, we're going to continue..."

But you could barely register another sentence at the moment, your eyebrows furrowing as you began to move forward with the rest of the group. 

One thought remained in your mind, however. Something that had struck you suddenly, something that surprised you more than you would have thought: not a shiver had been born under Garen's breath on your skin.

It was strange, not a single hair standing on end, no heat rising to your cheeks. Nothing. 

It was only when the memory of Viktor's breath hit the back of your neck that it began to heat up.

You tried to pull yourself together, to ignore this information, and to ignore the warm sensation in your stomach as your eyes found Viktor's combed brown locks.

It's probably nothing,’ you tried to convince yourself.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, exploring the library and some of the historic sites on campus. You had eaten in a charming restaurant near the hotel, while the Demacian students returned to their cafeterias and afternoon classes and Heimerdinger gave you a lesson on Demacia. He had preferred to postpone his lessons on Demacia to save them for the trip, for a better immersion and to truly submerge you in his lessons.

Fiora was glued to Viktor like a leech, as if when he let go of her arm he was going to fall face first onto the pavement. She kept sending you these petty little smiles, and you kept giving her a deeply neutral expression.

The night came earlier than expected, and you dreaded the idea of having to share this room, which was supposed to be so pure and perfect, with an oddball like her.

You were already strangely regretting the night you'd spent with Viktor. Admittedly, you hadn't always had the best of times when you were forced into close proximity, but that didn't detract from the fact that you had common ground and mutual respect.

Up until now, Fiora hadn't earned your respect.

And to your surprise, as the hours passed and you read in bed, she never came.

Many thoughts raced through your mind, tirelessly changing subjects and possibilities.

Was she with Viktor? you wondered.

No, Garen and Viktor went to bed together.

So where is the viper? Perhaps it's in its burrow, at home in who knows which grand Demacian mansion, in a bed with silk sheets and canopied curtains. Madame's sleep must not be damaged or altered in any way.

And that breath on your skin, that hadn't done anything to you? Why did it?

Sleep overtook you quickly though, overpowering your fiery spirit, Demacia's jet lag catching up with you faster than you thought possible.

When you awoke, it was early enough in the morning that the horizon was still a gradation of night leading towards the bright pearl of the sun. Your eyes found Fiora's bed empty and perfectly tucked in just as you had found it.

You took advantage of the fact that the city was still a little asleep to get out your tarot deck. You knocked on both sides, hoping to release whatever energy the petricite could have brought.

You performed your usual little ritual, and the card of the day turned out to be the five of swords. The little booklet provided you with the following information: 

Cruelty. Think about your actions and words. False accusations. Cowardice. Inflated ego at the expense of others. Taking advantage of others.

This is a warning card that reminds you of the power of your words and actions. An argument has ended and there is a winner, a loser, and a mediator. Who do you identify with on this card? Which character represents you at this precise moment? If you don't recognise yourself in this card, who or what does it remind you of? What lessons can you learn from this image?

You were sighing, an argument? It was probably because of yesterday with Fiora, because of what you had to learn from it.

So you got ready for the day, looking forward to meeting Garen on that famous training area. You had discussed the time at which him and the pretentious one would meet, deciding to join them a little later to let them do their training but above all to go there with a small group of students who intended to visit more of the university with their Demacian duos.

The days were to be split in two. In the morning, the Demacian students would be in class, while the Piltovian students would have their history lessons with Heimerdinger. The afternoons would be devoted to visiting Demacia, its monuments, museums and so on.

So you went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. There you met Viktor and Jayce, sharing their table. You helped yourself to the buffet in this luxury self-service restaurant before coming over to them.

"Good morning," greeted Viktor, sipping his coffee as his eyes were riveted on what appeared to be the local newspaper.

"Morning," you replied as you sat down at their table.

"You know," Jayce began with his mouth full, "I'm not usually a fan of switching foods but," he twitched his nose as he chewed energetically, "I gotta hand it to them, it's really good."

"You would eat flowers if they were edible," you remarked before bringing your own breakfast to your lips, nodding at the taste, though.

"Ah ha! See?" Jayce remarked at your expression.

You shrugged. "Not bad."

Actually, what you were chewing was delicious, but it wasn't hard to reach that level given your diet of mostly simple pasta and stir-fry in your flat.

"Come on," Jayce tried, turning to Viktor, "their coffee's good too."

The questioned man abandoned his reading of the newspaper, taking in hand a pastry covered in icing sugar. "I'll admit that it's not bad."

"Not bad?" you remarked, arching an eyebrow. "Better than mine?"

He chuckled. "Not possible."

You nodded. "Huh, I guess I'll just have to check for myself," you remarked, pressing your palm against the table as you prepared to get up and help yourself to the drink area.

"You can just drink from mine," suggested Viktor.

The pressure of your weight on your palm eased, turning your head towards him. "From yours?"

He watched you for a moment, then picked up his cup and placed it in front of you. "I don't know if I'll be able to finish it in one go," his back found the back of the seat, "so, we can share."

You considered the mug for a moment, observing the ring of foam that had dried and marked the inside of the cup, waiting to be drunk. It seemed sweet, like what Viktor used to drink.

You curled your fingers around its handle, the round, slightly flattened cup feeling pleasantly heavy in your hand. You brought it to your lips, blowing gently on its contents and noticing the previous mark of the sip Viktor had taken.

Your glance met his, moving from your mouth to your eyes, your lips resting where his had been moments before, before you took a sip without your gaze ever leaving each other's. 

His jaw seemed to tense for a moment as your tongue passed over your lower lip to catch the last few drops of coffee before placing the cup back on the table.

You nodded, raising your eyebrows. "Not bad."

Viktor's amber eyes had a strange blackness in them, pierced by a dark glint you couldn't make out that brought more warmth to your cheeks and neck than the coffee.

"I told you!" Jayce exclaimed, bringing you back to reality almost brutally.

What was going on? Why was the air suddenly so thick and tense?

Your eyes lowered to your breakfast, taking a small bite as you returned to Viktor gently through your eyelashes. His gaze was still on you, his long, slender fingers wrapping around the waist of the cup and bringing it to his mouth.

His eyes lit up with a strange satisfaction as your lips parted and his came to rest where yours had been only seconds ago. 

Your heart leapt in your chest as you engulfed your entire meal in one mouthful, preferring to find an excuse like this to the suffocation you were beginning to feel from the pounding of your heart against your ribs, which were suddenly too narrow to contain it.

Viktor looked at you, as surprised as he was amused by the suddenness of this behaviour.

"You look nervous," Jayce pointed out, "are you alright?"

You met his gaze, your eyes drifting over Viktor's for a moment as you swallowed your mouthful with difficulty. Quick, an excuse, or something.

"I'm going to try and train with the Demacian students," you explained.

Jayce's eyebrows rose, Viktor's frowned.

"You're about to try and train with them?" the taller one repeated, wiping the crumbs from his sweet tooth with the back of his hand, "the same students that have a training area and some of the best fighters in all Runeterra?"

You stuffed your mouth with another part of your breakfast, trying to take some strength for what would await. "Yes."

Breakfast continued simply until you finally decided to go to the Academy campus. The sun was higher in the sky, already warm as you made your way to the training ground.

A group of students were occupying various parts of the large area, a variety of wooden weapons clashing against each other in a waltz of energetic movements and grunts.

The small group of Piltovian students approached this area, some coming to meet up with their duet mates, others standing back to observe the scene.

You finally caught sight of Garen, busy at the moment against a mannequin, his stature seeming even more imposing that way. Dressed in a navy blue t-shirt with sweat stains on the collar and back, baggy black trousers and combat boots, he looked perfectly military.

When he met your eyes, he smiled at you, indicating with his fingers that you should come closer. You pointed your index finger at yourself, exchanging glances with Jayce and then Viktor.

"Don't look at me," the latter pointed out, "if I've got any place on this field it's as a training dummy."

You shrugged. "I'm sure you'd make an amazing fencer with your cane," you said before stepping forward when Garen came your way.

You reached him on the pitch, the feel of the ground softer and smoother than you would have thought. No doubt to reduce the damage of falls, which were bound to be numerous around here.

"Good morning," Garen greeted you when you reached him.

"Good morning," you pressed your lips into a thin line. "I think by coming here I've voluntarily signed my death warrant."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," he confirmed in a soft laugh, starting to move forward.

"Fiora isn't here?" you questioned, anxiously.

"She went ahead to get herself some water, she'll be back soon," he explained.

"Hope she takes her time," you sighed, "I'd like to... try training."

He turned to you in surprise. "Try training?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, "gotta get the full experience of this trip, I guess?"

He chuckled, nodding finally. "Alright, what would you like to try?"

"What's on the menu for bruises and sore muscles today?" 

"Hmm," he glanced at the few remaining wooden weapons, "let us try with a staff."

Your eyes followed his gaze, settling on one of the weapon bearers. A row of quarterstaffs was there, waiting to be retrieved. 

Fighting with wands, the joke was almost ridiculously simple if you thought back to the five of wands.

He picked one up, throwing it at you as you caught it in the air.

"Good reflexes," he remarked as he took one in turn, "it's going to be needed." He twirled the staff in his hand with ease, positioning himself in front of you. "Show me what you know."

You had distant memories of using a staff, of parrying, of attacking, even if you weren't an expert and wasn’t sure about your capacity on bringing them back to life.

You had to get it into your head that you weren't there to win, but to learn, to take in new information and rediscover what it meant to learn through interest rather than obligation.

You described a swing in the air, the wood hissing as Garen easily parried the blow, coming into your game. All he had to do was push a little harder against you so that the pressure made you tilt your balance and he took advantage of it to try a blow that you still managed to parry before stepping back and almost losing your balance.

"You're smaller than me, and probably faster," commented Garen, "use it to your advantage."

"How am I supposed to do that?" you questioned, tightening your grip around your staff in the hope that your muscle memory would do the job.

Garen repositioned himself, smiling slightly. "Surprise me."

You chuckled, tapping the tip of your stick on the ground twice before repositioning yourself, bending your knees and tensing your shoulders.

You trotted towards him a little, raising your staff in the air before deviating and giving a kick with your foot on his at the last moment to shift the balance. His grip was firmer on it than you thought, but the blow was enough to divert his attention to the gesture and you drove your stick into his foot, causing him to grunt as you tried to go around him to hit the back of his knees.

Realising your trick though, he changed his stance, pivoting towards you and swinging an arc through the air that you stepped back from in time, dodging his next blow by placing your palm on his staff to squeeze it and pull it towards you to bring him down.

But his weight of muscle won out over yours, so he used your initial idea to his advantage by pulling you towards him until your back was against his chest and he was holding his staff under your chin.

You felt his warm chest under the fabric of his T-shirt, his chest expanding and sinking against you as you felt the wood of his staff push your chin up until your eyes met his. He huffed, cracking a smile.

"You did good," he breathed, cracking a smile before the grip on your chin eased and he released you.

You took a step forward, turning to face him. "Just good?"

"Not satisfied with good?" he pointed out.

"No," you chuckled as you grabbed your staff with both hands, ready to attack again.

He smiled, changing position again. "Then do better, Piltie girl."

"Would you look at that?"

Your eyes rolled heavenward as you recognised this insufferable voice and turned to Fiora.

She was wearing a uniform similar to that of Garen. A dark plum turtleneck t-shirt with short sleeves, trousers less wide than Garen's, and perfectly polished boots.

She was equipped with her most mocking smile. "How did you end up here?"

You shrugged, letting one hand fall away from the staff before your arm dropped to your side. "I thought I'd come here for a holiday camp, but too bad the activities and organisers aren't great."

She giggled, her eyebrows arching as she turned to the remaining staff to pick one up. Some students stopped practising, observing the scene. Fiora undoubtedly had her own little reputation which she maintained proudly, and to see someone standing up to her must have been a novelty for many.

"Let's see what you're made of," she said, putting herself on guard against you.

You sighed. "I don't want to fight you," you remarked as you moved towards the receptacle to lay down your weapon.

But she prevented you from doing so by sending it flying further away from a single hit. You glared at her.

Her smile was evil, her eyebrows low over vicious eyes. "You're gonna have to pick it up if you want to put it back there."

"Fiora," Garen warned, "stop."

"It's fine," you assured him, watching Fiora's face change between satisfaction and impatience.

You knew she was trying to push you, to build up your frustration to get a reaction out of you. You didn't want to give her the pleasure.

You breathed a sigh, walking over to the staff on the ground before picking it up. But as you turned, you barely had time to reflexively place the staff in front of your face as a parry.

Fiora had just tried to attack you, and violently at that.

"Fight," she insisted as you took a step backwards. "Don't they teach you how to fight in Piltover?"

You huffed, trying to get round her as she circled after you like a predator around its prey. "Guess we swapped war for intellect," you pointed out, feeling more in the mood for a verbal joust than a physical one, "I can see how the lack of it is visibly affecting you."

Fiora frowned, pointing the end of her staff at you. "What did you just say?"

You smiled, getting caught up in the game. "Do I have to repeat it for you? Or break it down into digestible pieces for your little brain?"

She grunted before drawing rapid attacks in the air that you managed to parry and avoid until you crossed the wood and found yourselves close. 

"You are so lacking in intelligence that neither education nor experience has helped you to fill this gap in your nature," you taught her.

She punched you in the stomach before hitting you in the thigh with her staff, forcing you to your knees. You felt the tip of her staff under your chin, firm and raw as she looked down at you.

"Look at who's kneeling before me," she sneered as she exchanged smiles with the surrounding students.

You didn't let her get to you though. "Simply tying my shoes, your majesty."

The nickname seemed to irritate her in a less visible way than the others, but you could still make out the little muscle near her eye tense up.

She offered a simple blow of her nose in laughter, leaving you on the ground as her stick dislodged itself from your chin.

She then turned to her audience, rounding on you. ‘What a fierce little thing she is, isn't she?’ she quizzed.

You turned towards her, straightening up as you frowned.

"By your words I believe you called me ignorant, so I did a bit of digging." She wore a smile that was about to cause some serious errors. "You will be surprised to learn that," she turned to you with a wicked smile, "she's an orphan."

Your lips parted as your chest began to tighten in anger, the other students around you all glaring at you like a freak show.

"No one ever wanted her," Fiora went on as if she were presenting a tragic two-bit story, "until she got taken in by pity."

You wanted to rip her tongue out. How could she know? How dare she put it out there for everyone to see?

She hovered around you, addressing her audience to paint a pitiful picture. 

"Got a failure? Get another for half the price!" She sneered as she described dramatic gestures of demonstration, calming down on the theatrical though as she turned back to you, eyes half-closed with pretense and pointing at you with her staff. "So now," she resumed, tone condescending, "she tries to remove that tag off herself by being first everywhere!" She turned to the other pupils as if they were little children learning a lesson. 

Your knuckles had turned white from squeezing your fists so tight, your breathing quickening as your anger built.

She turned to face you. "As if that was going to change her nature."

"That's enough!" Garen growled as he approached her.

"What's wrong? I am simply stating facts," Fiora pointed out falsely, innocently.

Their conversation faded from your mind, however, as your frustration rose inside you. 

Who was it? Who was it that could have given her this information?

There were only three people who knew about this matter. Only three. Jayce, Sky...

And Viktor.

Viktor, who had spent his time in Fiora's company, who was always glued to his arm, who had had to give in to the fatigue and frustration of her questions by answering her about you while she was scheming against you.

There was only him.

Your body seemed to you like a suit of armour in a garden of white statues of purity, where the ruby-red roses of anger were allowed to overtake the metal covering your rage.

Clad in armour. 

Ready.

"You said you wanted to fight?" 

Your voice echoed through the air louder than you could have imagined, but loud enough that all heads turned towards you. Fiora smiled, having finally achieved her goal.

"You've changed your mind?"

"Yes." Your tone was firm, rigid.

"That is most delightful to hear," Fiora smiled, turning to her audience and raising her arms before regaining your gaze, "I'll even do you the honour of choosing your weapon."

"No weapons."

Your whole body tensed, your fingers twitching as your muscles seemed to prepare themselves for what was about to happen.

Fiora raised her eyebrows. "Fists? How barbaric.’

"Scared your fancy manicure can't handle it?"

It was asking everything in your power not to let your voice explode in the air, to remain calm and articulate.

All the same, Fiora seemed fascinated by your determination to continue to stand up to her, to refuse to give up, to abandon in the face of her.

"Careful Fiora," shouted one of the students, "I've heard she's a witch."

Had she finally infiltrated your room? Looked through your things while you were asleep? Or had she managed to hear about Selene and had already started to do her viper's work of spreading rumours? Either way, she was already on to you.

"Glad to know we're on the right territory to get rid of this kind of waste," smiled Fiora.

"You can't beat me," you put the staff back in its receptacle, moving away again to get ready, "only one person gets to have that honour."

Your eyes landed on Viktor, who was watching the scene with furrowed brows.

You readied your breath, stopping your heart from getting too big in your chest as your legs prepared to hold your balance.

"So eager," Fiora sighed with a stupid grin, stepping forward to place her staff, "I didn't know you would-"

But as soon as the staff was placed, your knuckles made hard contact with her cheek, sending her to the ground.

A wave of shocked murmurs took over the crowd as you stood, eyes lowered on Fiora as she leaned back to straighten herself on the floor, her perfectly smooth fringes slightly dishevelled revealing her wide eyes as she brought her palm to her cheek still warm from the blow.

"Get up," your voice was cold, trying to remain unwavering while your fist trembled. "You said you wanted a fight, so," your lips were full of rage, "fight."

Fiora snarled, springing to her feet and running at you with the breath of a bull seeing red. She tried to land a blow on your face to return the favour, but you dodged it and punched her in the stomach, her curling up as you grabbed her hair and she started screaming.

"You fucking bitch!" she cried.

She slapped you on the shoulder and you let go, throat rocky with wrath. "Yell at me again and I'll give you a proper reason to scream."

There was a dangerous growl in your voice, a grinding of a gear powering an old machine that was starting up again.

She came back at you, landing a blow on your leg in the hope of making you kneel again, but she was only marginally successful. She hit you in the jaw, causing you to back away slightly, before delivering a second blow to the cheekbone.

You didn't give her the honour of adding a third strike, offering her a violent punch in the throat that took her backwards as you took a slight leap and slammed your hand hard into her face, her grabbing your clothes and dragging you backwards as she fell.

Sitting on her abdomen, your two knees blocked her arms as you gained free reign over her guard.

You hit her once, twice, thrice, her cheek beginning to swell. Your blows increased in intensity, the tension in your fist not stopping you even if the bones in your hand broke.

"Stop this!" 

Two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you out with difficulty as you struggled in vain.

Garen pulled you away from the body of Fiora, who had turned to spit a cloud of bloody spray onto the floor. Your eyes never let go of her, as if you were obsessed with your real aim of seeing her admit defeat.

"You," you snapped at her, regaining some calmness though, "you're the one that started spreading gossip about me behind my back aren't you?"

Fiora turned to you, breathless. "What?" Her voice was hoarse from your blow.

"Don't make me repeat myself," you threatened, fully aware that you hadn't hit any of her eardrums and that she could understand you perfectly well.

She breathed heavily. "Why does it matter?"

You approached slightly, fists still clenched as you watched her on the floor, pathetic.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew your place."

Fiora shook off the hands of the students who had just tried to help her off ofto the floor, her furious eyes finding you as she struggled to get to her feet.

You realised the extent of the damage your fury, your uncontrollable anger, had done. Fiora's face was red, one of her eyelids bulging as blood poured from her nose, joining the red on her lips and gums.

You could have gone on, made things worse. Who knows how far you could have gone? What irreversible damage you could have caused? What life you could have taken in your own anger?

The realisation hit you like an anvil.

Your eyes roamed the crowd, the faces of the frightened students.

I... I did this? you thought.

I made them look at me with... fear?

Your eyes found Fiora still on the ground, grunting in pain and coughing.

Monster.

That's all you were. A being incapable of overcoming the violence that had nourished her, of abandoning the bosom of this bitter mother who had cuddled her so much and made her grow.

Your gaze wandered over the rest of the pupils, until it met his.

Viktor's face was shocked.

No, please...

His lips were parted and his eyes wide as you felt your hands impossibly sticky with the hot blood they had spilled.

Please, don't look at me like that... Your heart was trembling. 

Not you.

You had to get out of here.

Hands clasped to your sides, you strode across the pitch, the few students even two metres away from you moving away as you passed.

I made them like this. Although this thought might have given some people a feeling of pride and power, you couldn't help but feel covered in a terrible shame.

You couldn't meet anyone's eyes as you made your way to the nearest water source, away from any eyes.

You turned the crank on a fountain to turn it on, your breath quickening with anxiety.

I have to get this off me.

You ran your hands frantically under the water, rubbing the reddened skin of your knuckles and trying to get rid of the blood that was already starting to dry.

You returned to the handle as the water subsided, your hand coming into contact with the blood you'd left behind when you turned it the first time.

You make everything dirty. Everywhere you go there will be blood if you go on.

You swallowed a sob as you tried to clean the crank and your hands again.

But nothing would wash the feeling away. Nothing could extinguish the fire still burning in your fingertips. Nothing could make you forget the warm, slimy sensation of the pain you'd committed, of the violence at the edge of your skin.

It's what you're made of.

You sat against the wall, banging both wet fists against your skull as if that would stop those thoughts from ruling your mind.

And he'd seen you. He saw you like this. Your violence coming to life before his eyes, reflected in an indecipherable Iris.

You put your head between your knees, tried to take a deep breath before you got up, your legs weak and trembling as you made your way back to the hotel.

Stupid, stupid crown.

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[demon64]

So... since it has been on my mind for a good chunk of the day, I want to go over what classes I think Darksiders characters would in different MOBAs. This post will be starting with what classes I think they would be in League of Legends, and maybe in reblogs I will go over SMITE and then Heroes of the Storm. I'm going with League because that is the one I know the most about.

FURY: I have mentally gone back and forth between Skirmisher and Diver, leaning more towards Diver with the moveset I gave her in a previous post, it feeling more leaning towards Diver territory.

DEATH: I have also mentally gone back and forth between Skirmisher and Diver for him, leaning more towards Skirmisher, also just based on how I built his moveset.

WAR: He's a Juggernaut. He's big, he's strong, but not the fastest out there. He's hanging with the likes of Aatrox, Garen, and Shyvana.

STRIFE: He's definitely leaning more towards Marksmen, but I personally feel his abilities could potentially, even if very unlikely, land him in Specialist.

ULTHANE: Vanguard. He's an offensive tank like Ornn, one of my inspirations for his Passive.

SAMAEL: He is another I think could go for Diver. Either that or maybe Juggernaut. So either of the two subclasses of Fighter. His ability of lifesteal I gave him is similar to that of Warwick's, who himself is a Diver.

URIEL: Skirmisher. Her overall almost Riven-like moveset is why I say Skirmisher.

The ARCHON: I'm thinking maybe he could be a Catcher, considering one of the abilities I would give him is to root someone in place, akin to the likes of day Morgana. Either that or maybe a Battlemage akin to Swain.

The DESTROYER: I'm torn kinda between Juggernaut and Vanguard. Considering he is a big dragon, the final boss of Darksiders 1, I'm leaning a bit more towards Vaguard for the high-end tankiness, but, to me at least, he also feels like he should be a Juggernaut due to thematic connections to War and how it feels like he shouldn't be too tanky.

WICKED K: Considering my two inspirations for his moveset, Fiora and Jax, are Skirmishers, it feels fitting that our favorite zombie is a Skirmisher.

ABSALOM: I feel like Vanguard works very well, especially as a contrast to Death, his brother, his killer. If Death is a Skirmisher meant to shred through enemies, then Absalom is a Vanguard meant to tank as much as possible while disrupting enemies.

WRATH: Another Vanguard or Juggernaut. I want to lean towards Juggernaut, mostly because if I do basically give him the same Ultimate as Sion, I don't want to just make the guy a straight-up copy of the Champion from League.

AVARICE: I think that since in his boss fight in Darksiders 3 he is quite mobile, and despite me in a previous post saying he could have a similar moveset to Fafnir from SMITE, I do think Avarice as a Assassin could be fun. So if I do make him an Assassin, I think I gotta change up his moveset a bit.

SLOTH: I think he's one that could be fun to make a Warden, where a good chunk of his game plan could be essentially causing his enemies to exhaust themselves, hopefully allowing that he and his team survive.

LUST: I'm kinda torn between Enchanter and Diver, as I took some bits of inspiration for their moveset from Renata Glasc, who is the former, and Wukong, who is the latter. So, maybe with Hybrid champions like Yone and K'Sante, Lust could be a hybrid champion potentially?

GLUTTONY: I'm thinking another Warden, as I believe Gluttony's moveset I gave him could work quite well for a defensive tank. Or maybe Gluttony could be a Catcher instead?

PRIDE: I guess you could say fitting for a Pride, I think they would be a Specialist. The moveset I gave her, especially with the small bit of inspiration from Kayle.

ENVY: I'm thinking Specialist, mostly because with three of her moves being copies of three of the Horsemen's, her game plan in a match could be a bit odd, in a sense. Like imagine combing Teleport Slash, Stoneskin, and World Ender for maybe something akin to going into a fight as Graves, who himself is a Specialist. Or imagine combining any of those with the Ultimate you copied.

AZRAEL: Enchanter. I imagine he would primarily be in support, so making him an Enchanter just feels fitting.

Alright! That is it, for the time being at least. I noticed as I typed this out that as I got to non-player characters, it became a bit easier to put them in certain classes, as well as it feeling like I leaned heavily into Vanguard despite me probably not even deciding all that many fit that classes. Next time I talk about the idea of Darksiders in a MOBA, I'm probably going to go over other characters that exist and some I probably gotta get really creative with for their moveset.

Also! Do any of you agree, disagree, have any different ideas for what classes these characters could fit in? Don't be afraid to share your thoughts if you so wish!

[octahedral-chaos]

(SPOILERS CONTINUED)

Valorant loved a good fight. She loved how the rush of adrenaline made her feel more alive than anything ever since the end of Runeterra and even coming back to the past. How grounded she felt in the pain and ache of a good spar. How she felt so, so real. 

And most of all, she loved how violent she can get away with in battle. 

She was born of blood. Blood that was spilled for war.

 There will always be a calling back to battle in her heart, no matter how content and peaceful she is.

But just as she was violent, people never really came to her for any purposes other than official or professional reasons.

So imagine her surprise when Garen Crownguard of all people approached during her time with a practice dummy.

The poor life sized doll was already missing multiple limbs from the sheer strength of Valorant’s blows. The left arm was torn off, both legs were broken, and the other arm was barely hanging on to the main body. The cloth and wooden body was in tatters, a very concerning hole was in the part where Valorant ripped it out with a brutality only seen in the thickest of battles. A very dented and caved in mageseeker mask was tied on to the head, the mage’s fist still in the crater it made.

“Lady Val.” He greeted her, though his voice was even, she can tell how much of his self control is being tested right now. She sensed the conflict under all the layers of metal and walls he built himself over the years.

Valorant slowly turned her head to the Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard. The glass beads that made up her ‘hair’ clinked softly. Under her dual masks, there was a type of feral madness in her nonexistent eyes of her paper and glass body. The glass hand unfurled from a fist and into a claw, digging into the wooden head, and tearing it off with a sickening crack of wood followed by a shower of splinters.

Underneath all of that armor, she saw him flinch. She also saw everyone that decided to watch flinch as well.

“Sir Crownguard.” She replied indifferently, tossing the head to his feet. Rolling pitifully before it stopped at his toes. The glass hand crushing the mask into useless scraps of silver and gold. “What message do you bring?” She asked, tilting her head. Is this about last night? How she managed to smuggle in a claymore into her own debutante ball? Or is it how she absolutely demolished the wall with her first break in? She fixed it!

“There is no message.”

What?

“I came to…” He seemed reluctant to be here. “Take the Crown Prince’s place as your sparring partner today, as he is busy with matters of the state today.” He finished. 

She sees Luxana in her peripherals. Hard not to. With all her light shining.

Ah. So Father is busy today? Well… let’s see how much she can get away with.

“Alright,” She chirped cheerfully, he recoiled, clearly not expecting her to sound so happy at this prospect. Then her voice gained an edge as she said: “I would like to challenge you in a phantom duel!”

Garen’s eyebrows furrowed. “Excuse me?” What in Runeterra did she mean?

Valorant kicked the dummy out of bounds, walking to the racks filled with the training swords. Taking a sword and a shield with her.

She started to etch runes into the sword, “A phantom duel is a duel where you aim to fatally harm or kill your opponent.”

Before anyone could protest, she continued. Finishing the runes of the first sword, the wood shifting into a thinner and lighter sword that looked more like an enlarged knife. No crossguard attached to it, only the handle connecting to the short end of a diamond shaped blade that was elongated on the other tip. “But the weapons are enchanted to leave no physical harm, only a lesser and phantom pain of the blows made.”

She moved on to her shield, “ Upon the fatal or killing blow, the weapon will shatter.”

She picked both of her chosen equipment up. She turned to Garen again. His hand is on his own sword. Unsurprising.

“Since you obviously don’t trust me in any capacity, I’ll allow you to use your own sword.” Turning her shield over to make sure the correct enchantments are on it. 

Valorant leisurely walked over to her side of the first field, twirling her sword as she turned back. “A bit of warning,” she added, “I will change between weapons and fighting styles, so if you wish to, you can cheat.” 

The Captain looked appalled at her, even suggesting he take an advantage in battle.

“This is a fight to kill, no rules of formal combat apply if you want to stay alive.” She reminds him. “So, if you want to avoid being clobbered, I suggest you take what you can.”

He looked reluctant to follow her into the field, but he did anyway. 

Valorant rolled her shoulders in preparation, twirling her sword on more as Garen drew his own sword from his back.

She teleported to him the moment his sword was in both of his hands. If this were a real battle, she would have teleported earlier.

The clang of wood on metal rang out as he managed to block her first attack. Valorant grinned, knowing the cards she hid up her sleeves.

Garen pushed her back, charging towards her with a strike of his own; she responded with her shield raised to block it, prepping a lighting strike that would have run true if he didn’t parry it with his sword. Taking the opening, she started to push him back with slash after slash. He had no choice but to keep his guard up. She took a gamble and charged up her heavy attack, sweeping her sword in two wide arcs upwards. It collided with his sword, but the blow forced it away, letting her second attack strike true. The pure force of it sent him upwards. She teleported up and continued to take the opening with three successive slashes before she shoved her sword into the grain of the shield, the wood shifting to make a battle ax. In a single devastating arc, she slammed it down on him. Sending the both of them back down. A crater had formed from where she slammed him down. In two more spins, her ax fell with two more blows of blunt force on the Captain. Knowing full well of the phantom pain he is feeling. She jumped away, waiting for him to recover. It took a moment, but soon he was stumbling back on to his feet.

“Your turn~” She trilled in a sing-song voice. A madness coating it.

He spat out a wad of blood, wiping away the residue before charging back at her.

She parried every blow he threw at her. She even stood against his spinning attack! Worlds, she was a bit rusty. She hasn’t executed any perfect parries in a while. But her shield held. And it started to glow. Good, her Guard Impact is charged enough, and she has two techniques stacked. She just needs to switch. 

Wood and metal clanged against each other once more, Val pushing Garen away by surrounding herself with an ice field. As the ground around her feet glowed slightly with frost blooming at each step, she proceeded to shift. Dark glass was revealed as her paper husk folded itself back, vanishing along with her wooden equipment as she ran towards the Crownguard once more. Now a black body of glass instead of pristine white paper.

This time, her dark claws and kicks struck steel. She followed up her attack with a barrage of seals made to sap away at strength. Then her glass whip, each painful strike added to the sapping effect. Soon after Garen struck back, this time, she didn’t even bother to whip out her shield. Opting to block every attack with her bare glass hands. Though, the cracks in her body would fracture even more with each clang. 

Soon her hands were glowing, one orange and bright, the other dim and blue. 

Almost. Just wait a little longer.

Just until…

She sees the magic gathering. She sees it growing.

Finally. 

Drawing her hand of blue back as she watched Garen raise his sword to the sky, calling down Justice.

She scoffed as she watched the magic fall above her in the form of a fiery sword made out of a piece of Kayle’s magic. 

How fucking, pathetic.

Time seemed to slow for her as she waited.

And waited.

There.

It started slow. Like how it always does. She just pushes the magic away, just a little. Then she lets her momentum from her body pass to the sword, letting it turn away from its course to the earth as she spun it around. Again and again.

Until the magic turned blue and healed her willingly, flooding her with so much magic. But she needs more. More and more. It’s never enough. Not like her Runes. She sighed as time seemed to catch up to what she had done. And changed up her counter strike.

As soon as her mind decided to break free of the timelessness, she immediately ricochet the blast of blue and black magic back at Garen–

Only to be blocked by Jarvan. Shattering the shield he picked up.

“Enough Val!”

She yelled at him with a hard edge to her voice, “This is between me and him! Stay out of it!” For how can Jarvan understand? How can he understand that the lies and violence she sows is the only way to make the blinded see?

Lunging at Garen again, ignoring the cries for her to stop, Valorant shoved her sword into the grain of her shield again, swinging her axe down on him. Both Captain and Prince dived out of the way.

“Duel’s not done yet,” She hissed.

“I’m not done yet.”

She launched herself back at them with the movements of an Eldritch Horror, adopting her Demon’s style of battle. Swinging her sword wildly at the both of them as the scream from her throat turned feral. A glass claw shot out to snatch at their weapons as Valorant manifested her paper arms, adding to her already terrifying appearance mimicking Fiddlesticks. 

“Enough of this!” Jarvan bellowed against her screams. Raising Drakebane in retaliation. He threw it at her with all his might. She braced for it. There! When the spear collided with her shield, she knocked the spear into the air with it. Dropping the large buckler as she jumped up and caught the spear by its shaft. Throwing it back at Jarvan. Close enough to give a small cut in his side, but far enough that it did little to no damage to the Prince. She sees him frozen in shock at her counter. Afterall, he was one of the few that can actually use Drakebane. Valorant took this time to lunge at Garen one last time, screaming profanities in all of the languages she can think of. Manifesting her shield back into her hand, she pushed her left shoulder back and called down a crash of lightning on to the Captain. She sees him roll out of the way as she charges up another blast of lightning much to her growing temper. What she didn’t see is Shyvana and Jarvan tackling her from the behind. There was a brief surge of panic before the annoyance settled in. She’s gotten sloppy. A few hundred thousand years would do that to you if you were one of the few that existed in emptiness. With a growl, she briefly disappeared. Materializing back into the world after a moment. Jumping away, she retaliated with her whip, which was almost pulled out of her hands by Shyvana. The Dragon yanking it forcefully, Valorant holding on to it in a tug of war. It would have cut her if she was in her original body. For she never made a handle for her whip of glass and string. But it will never cut her. Not in this body. Valorant snarled as she used the momentum of Shyvana’s pull to close the distance between them, ricocheting to her. Narrowly dodging Garen's strike for her back, only a few glass beads from her ‘hair’ falling harmlessly to the ground. She returned her focus back to Shyvana, clawing at her, tearing a scale from her arm as the half-dragon grunted in pain.

A sudden collision of her face to something relatively flat forced her to back off when Jarvam struck her face with the flat of Drakebane’s blade. The paper mask was already in shreds as her metal one held through the force of the blow.

She stumbled back, absentmindedly bringing a hand to her face, a habit she made to feel human, before realizing that she felt no pain in this body of glass and paper. Dropping it back to her side as she stood back up straight, discarding her sword and shield. 

“Enough of this!” Shyvana yelled, Valorant sees blood dripping as the fire in her hands grew.

“Enough of what, Shyvana?” Valorant whispered. “Of this spar?” She scoffed, “Of this oh so simple misunderstanding?” She spat out, raising her arms to gesture at everything, “Or of this fucking genocide this kingdom is doing? Commending?” “You know full well that isn’t what I’m talking about.” Shyvana snarled back at Valorant as Garen and Jarvan flanked her. Valorant only glanced at them, keeping note of where they were before turning back to Shyvana. “And you know full well that they’re gonna kill us both the moment they see we’re the monsters they think we are.”

Shyvana froze. Jarvan flinched. Valorant only leered behind her mask as she jumped away from the three of them. “What do you see before it’s all over?” She screamed, letting her voice change. The Runes in her chest echoing with the music not yet from this era. As she let an illusion slip. One of her Nightmare Realms. Where the sky was eternally red as everything was simply flooded with blood and charred with burns.

“Blinding flashes getting closer!”

Just as it was seen, it was contained. Hidden away in her memories.

“Sacrificing everything I knew.”

Looking up to the sky, she reached for something so far from this world, but so, so close to her. A Star.

“This could be the day I die for you.”

And the Star fell.

_____)(_____

The transformation was a spectacle, for Val called down a star. The light blinding all those who looked

And in Val’s place, was a dragon. The color of emeralds as she unfurled her wings from her face, a singular point on her skull remained unblinking. As if the star that fell, became her eye in this form. She was… also incomplete as well. The dragon was more like a skeleton held together by an invisible force, her ribcage for all to see, empty of anything worldly. Anything … real. Except for the five Runes beating like a heart in her chest. The same Runes she kept in her chest cavity. Her Heart.

Then she raised a claw, and reached for Jarvan. Black and white specks of shards blacking out everything he saw.

When Jarvan had awoken again, he was holding his own spear to his throat.

AY!

Valorant and her mimicking Worldless abilities... love her.

Also Summum jumpscare /jk

No but genuinely, I love your writing style and EVERYTHING about this.

[renatogpadilla]

Light-Bleed.

It was supposed to be another patrol.

Lux and her Illuminators were supposed to be the scouts. That was the point of the name! Illuminate where the threat was and then Garen's men would take care of it. To the Demacian commoner, they were a charitable order of pious men and women who gave charity to the poor and downtrodden, but they could hold their own if push came to shove. Of course, that was only until backup arrived... At least without Lux outing herself.

So when they realized the little mage camp they were supposed to scout out was the current acting base of the Sylas of Dregbourne, saying they were in over their head was the understatement of the century.

Care to imagine what happens when you send a closeted Demacian mage-noble to a camp with a guy whose main superpower is to literally detect and absorb magic...?

What happens, as Garen Crownguard would discover that day, was a massacre.

When the Mageseekers arrived, there weren't many enemies left to fight. Just the marks of a long pair of magical chains, lining the split remains of the members of his sister's squadron.

If you're an older sibling, you might be able to imagine a fraction of the fear that Garen felt. All these bodies, of Mages and Illuminators alike... They could have all been killed, but they'd fought to the last man... They'd actually forced a retreat from Sylas from his own base. For all intents and purposes, they'd won the day!

But they weren't here to celebrate. They weren't here to cheer and rejoice that that monster had one less foothold in their home... They were dead. Splintered. Chained to death.

And his sister was nowhere in sight.

There was never a more panicked man than Garen Crownguard as he was in that moment. His men could handle the stragglers. He immediately started looking for survivors, but the big brother in him really only looked for one.

He caught the little flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Dim as death, but it was there. And he started digging under a small mound of bodies, once men and women of the Shield, like himself. And below the remains of about ten dead Illuminators, barely clinging to life, with a cracked breastplate, and a bleeding out of her side, her hands aglow, agonizing, but alive, was his sister Lux.

He picked her up as gently as he could in the state she was in. She'd hidden under the bodies to live. Or had they hidden her in the end, even knowing what she was? Gods, she would hate herself for this forever... He would make sure every single one of them had a hero's burial. He tucked her hands close to his chest so nobody could see, and his men understood. They took one look at him and told him to go. Normally, he would be the one staying above everyone else... Since when do his men give him orders? But this was Lux, and if there was one thing that had been abundantly clear since he day Garen had become a member of the Dauntless Vanguard and of the Mageseekers, and all of the men and women under him knew it, was the unshakeable faith and insurmountable love the Lord Commander felt for his little sister, and her for him. The few people that knew them personally would swear upon the Spirits that Lux was the only real weakness Garen had. The only thing that could cause him true damage.

And now his sister was dying.

The Mageseekers knew two things for sure as they saw him carry his sister away, running to where he knew she would have leashed her horse, Starfire, to a tree far enough away from danger: The first was that the pain he was going through right now was the most broken they would ever see him.

The second was that the reckoning that would befall the man that had dared lay hands on his little sister would be so righteously terrible, so incredibly brutal and visceral, that the Protector herself would look away in disgust.

But right now, Garen was running... and he was panicking. His sister winced in pain and her hands lit up brighter. She was glowing! He couldn't take her back to the Garrison! They'd know! He couldn't-!

"B-brother..." She could barely form the word. "Star..."

"I know, Lux, I know! I'll get her! I'll get you! You're going to be fine, I swear!" He rounded the corner and indeed, there was Starfire, whining like crazy. There had to be someone he could take her to...! All the healers were under the Crown, and everyone that wasn't was not going to keep their mouth shut about a Mage noble! Who else, who else...?!

He got close to the horse and his sister put a weak, glowing hand to her nozzle and whispered a name between whimpers.

"Isha..."

The horse got it immediately. As soon as she was free and Garen and Lux were on top, she bolted faster than Garen had ever seen her. Isha...? Garen hadn't seen her since the talk they'd had on the balcony a few months back... But she and Lux were close. She already knew... Whether she could help...

He'd trust his sister.

If she thought Isha could save her, he'd put his faith in her too. He let Starfire guide him to the woods next to a little town he'd never heard of before. Into the woods she galloped, fast as lightning, and dodged what Garen would later know were small metal plates on the ground. Traps, for intruders that got too close. Star knew the pattern by heart now.

His sister's whole skin was glowing. No. Not glowing... Flickering. In and out and dimmer every time.

The mare stopped in front of a ramshackle hut in the middle of the woods. Garen didn't have time to appreciate the decor. He patted Star on the head and carried his sister off.

"ISHA!!!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "ISHA, SHE NEEDS YOU!"

He didn't hear the door unlock over his own heartbeat. The girl with the blue hair basically pushed the door down, her hand clutching something on her thigh.

"Garen? How did you-?" She managed. Then she saw her... Lux bleeding in her brother's arms, her glow wild and uncontrollable, barely clinging to life.

Her world came crumbling down all at once.

"Please..." Garen barely managed it.

That snapped her out of it. "Get her inside." She whispered, almost to herself, and then louder. "GET HER INSIDE, NOW!"

Whatever was on the main table was thrown to the side before Garen could lumber through the door. He put his sister there, in the middle of the room and gave Isha some space. At once, the raggedy woman started patching her up, taking whatever supplies she had on hand. And cleaning up the wounds.

"There's a lot of blood... I can't... There's gotta be SOMETHING!" She'd dressed the wounds and cleaned them up. She'd tried every ointment she could think of that would be safe and even removed pieces of metal from her wounds, but now Jinx was fully panicking. Lux was twitching on the table... What the hell could she do?! She'd not seen wounds this bad since... since...

"Stay awake, baby, stay with me!" The girl said, repeating it to both his sister and herself. Her hands moved so fast Garen couldn't keep track... He thought he saw a flash of purple as she moved from time to time, but that was probably him hallucinating out of stress. Little by little, a bunch of bandages and rags got tinted red...

Too red... Too much...! She could fix the lesser injuries but...

Oh. That's what she could do. What she and nobody else could.

She leaned over Lux's face. "Lux? I need you to listen to me... There's something I can do. And I don't know if it'll work, but if it does, it's going to hurt like hell. It's risky but it's all I've got, okay, love?"

Lux managed to lock eyes with her and Garen saw a softness - a love - he'd never seen in his sister before, even through the pain. She nodded. "Trust y-you..."

That was all Jinx needed to hear.

"I love you. Whatever happens, I love you, Luxanna." She kissed her like there was no tomorrow, and for a fraction of a second she was afraid there wouldn't be... "Garen, get her on the bed!" She said, and she ran to her workbench.

Garen didn't have to be told twice.

"I have you sister! I'm here, we're both here! We're not going anywhere!" He carried her to the room in the back and laid her on a comfy thatch bed. "What now?!"

Isha came into the room, rubbing a wet cotton furiously on her arm. "Now, you hold her down. This is going to be bad."

Then she pulled out a syringe and started drawing her own blood without a second of hesitation.

"What are you-?"

"My blood's not all normal. There's a drug in there that saved my life before. I'm hoping it saves her's too."

"Hoping?!"

"I'VE GOT NOTHING ELSE! YOU WANT HER TO LIVE OR NOT?!?!"

As she said it Garen could barely notice her eyes glowing, a small flash of purple, and then a brighter glow, not from her eyes, but from the syringe. A mix of crimson and neon purple that Garen could feel went against everything he once believed in... Blood Magic, in the most literal sense.

Isha got closer. "Okay, Lux, here goes. Whatever you see, it's not real. We love you!"

She stuck the syringe in the biggest wound she could find and pressed, trying for the life of her to focus on her job and not on Lux's screams of agony as the Shimmer entered her system.

Garen held her down on the bed as much as he could...

And then the lights went crazy.

One moment, her skin glowed like she was about to burst, a mix of gold and purple as gorgeous as it was terrifying. Her eyes, her hair, everything in the room changing colors wildly. The daytime seemed to turn off at one point. The sun outside looked blue, the shadows on the corners of the room felt brighter than any torch and the mirror reflected nothing but a black void where the light should have hit.

All throughout, Luxanna writhed in pain, and all throughout Jinx and Garen held her. And at some point, Jinx put a hand on Garen's shoulder, and he returned the gesture...

One last, massive scream of agony, Lux, lurching forward with almost enough force to push Garen off, and Jinx could swear she lifted a few feet off the bed, the light of her and Garen's own bodies dancing haywire as the Bright Lady fully lost control... and then...

Darkness. Pitch black darkness.

And little by little, the colors returned to the room. The right colors. Dimmer than before, but slowly returning regardless... Like the saturation was coming back to an old photograph.

Lux didn't move. Garen didn't move. He just held her, like a broken ragdoll he couldn't - he wouldn't - live without.

Isha didn't let go of Lux's hand as she sprawled herself and put her ear to her chest... Jinx had never prayed honestly in her life until now.

Nothing.

Nothing...!

Terrible, unreal nothing...!

.....

And then, faintly, weakly, almost imperceptibly, but there...

A heartbeat.

And now Jinx let the tears out.

"Oh, Lux!" She held her so tight she might've crushed her if she wasn't careful. "Oh, love, you really had us going there, honey! You'll be okay, you'll be okay...!"

She was alive. Garen looked at the gaping wound in her side and... He couldn't believe it. It was a small change, but the wound wasn't bleeding anymore! In fact it was... closing. Not super fast, but fast enough to notice.

His sister would live.

He finally allowed himself to breathe as he dropped on the corner of the room.

And very faintly, because his voice was still gone, he laughed. A nervous cry-laugh, like only a big brother could. And his tears began to dance in his eyes and off as well...

*****

It took a few minutes for them to catch their breath and Garen left the room to let Lux recover. He had taken off his armor. It had felt heavy for the first ever time today.

He sat on the couch outside the room in his slacks as Isha came out of the room, pacing.

"She's stable." She said. "Might not wake up for a while, but she'll live..." She had something folded over her shoulder...

She went over to her workbench and picked up a huge backpack and dragged it to the door. Then she sat on the floor, leaning on it.

Garen finally found his tongue.

"You saved her life." Whatever else he had to say would have to wait. That mattered the most. "Thank you."

She just gave him a look... He knew where she lived now. She thought that might be less of a problem than she might imagine, but time would tell...

"Who?" That's all she said. And from the venom in her voice, Garen knew exactly who she meant.

"Sylas of Dregbourne. I take it my sister told you who he is?" He didn't give a singular shit about protocol right now. Isha deserved to know.

"She's mentioned him." She'd done a hell of a lot more than mention him. Somedays, when they weren't... active at night, Lux would wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare the memory of 'Sylas the Unshackled' had caused. "Where?"

"Near the Hinterlands. The border between them and Demacian civilization proper... Just a forward camp, though."

"It's enough." She got up and stormed into her room. She leaned down over the bed and gave Lux a soft kiss before turning to her nightstand and leaving a little contraption there. A tiny toy monkey with a pair of cymbals in its hands and a crank in its back.

She looked at her. Her Light. Her Lux. Barely alive, having survived an agony few but Jinx herself would ever know...

"What are you doing?" Garen asked as she left the room in a huff.

"When she wakes up, she's going to need you." She said. She was in a place she hadn't felt herself in in a long time. "When this happened to me, I started hallucinating. I lashed out. Couldn't think straight. God knows what that means for a girl with Magic at her fingertips. You might have to restrain her."

Garen didn't think she could be mad enough to try what he thought she was going to try.

"And where are you going?"

"Hunting." She answered, and she took out a giant... Godesses, what was that thing? It took Garen a minute to comprehend it. Eight metal tubes strapped together to a massive chamber with a handle and a trigger. Scattered paint littered its surface in intricate patterns. She opened the bag with one hand and fed a bunch of scrap metal where she kept the back of the contraption open with the other. An absolute metal abomination of a weapon. "He went too far. Never again. Stay with Lux. Don't go anywhere. More importantly, don't let her go anywhere. If it's anything like what happened to me, she'll try to leave. Hard."

"You can't just take on Sylas by yourself! He's got gods know how many mages guarding him at all times, and even if you could find him, he did that to Lux! Lux had Magic!" Garen was one to talk... Like he didn't want to go himself! But she had just saved Lux's life. He wasn't going to let her throw her own away!

"Exactly. Magic he would steal. Magic he could use. He's so used to fighting your way... He won't be ready for me." Another weapon left the backpack. A single tube this time, thick as hell, almost as long as Isha herself. A metal shark head adorned what Garen assumed to be the nozzle, painted in blue, pink and gold. "Nobody ever is."

He couldn't stop himself. He got up and grabbed her by the shoulders. "And when he kills you? When Lux wakes up and you're dead? What then?! Why save her life if you're just going to make living it miserable?!"

That actually gave her some pause. Good, some common sense! Finally!

"You got somebody, G?" She sounded different... Darker. She was hurting just as much as him. "Somebody you love? Not like you love your sister... Someone you would die for if it meant they got to be free for a day at least... Someone like that?"

"I do. She... Disappeared during the first revolt Sylas started. I haven't seen her since." Garen had to stop himself from wondering the worst.

"What's her name...?"

"Katarina."

"Sounds pretty." And Jinx got the tiniest smile from the Lord Commander. "If it was her on that bed, and I wasn't here to save her... If you knew who did it. Would you stay your hand?"

The thought alone made him sick to his core. "I KNOW who did it! And going at him like this is not the play! He knows how this works!"

"Sylas knows how you work, Garen. He'll be expecting Mageseekers and Illuminators. A grand show of force, scorched earth, the works. That's why I can do this and you can't. Because I don't need Mageseekers and Illuminators to burn everything to the ground. Because he can't plan for me."

"I won't let you." And he meant that shit. He admired the hell out of her now, but he would not let her be killed by that monster too.

"Lord Commander." She said as that purple glow came to her eyes brighter than ever. Those eyes that were like daggers. Bright, glowing daggers that stabbed deep into Garen's soul. There was a rage in those eyes he had never seen on a human before. "With all due respect... You don't have a choice."

And then she pushed him. Harder than he'd ever been pushed in his life. He'd fought the trolls of the Freljord one on one and he'd not been pushed that hard! He flew over the table and landed back on the couch, pure shock in his face.

He saw her in full now. Her veins glowed purple for a second, her eyes a rabid animal's. She unfolded the thing on her shoulder at last, a dusty, dark green hoodie with fangs at the rim, the inside lined with so many toothy grenades Garen couldn't count them all. She readjusted that contraption strapped to her thigh (because of course that was a weapon too) and lifted both of those insane machinations of hers in one hand each as she turned to face the door.

Still in shock, Garen could only form one question.

"Isha... Who are you?"

The girl at least graced him with an answer.

"Not Isha." She said as she pulled the toothy hood over her head. And she sounded like a demon. Garen would know. He'd fought demons. "My name is Jinx of Zaun. When Lux wakes up, ask her who that is."

And in a flash of purple, she was gone.

*****

Jinx unstrapped Starfire from her tree. The mare didn't whine or step back. She knew what time it was too.

"Take me there."

And Starfire did. She carried the Witch of the Woods, weapons and all, like it was nothing. Almost flying through meadows and forests, ever onwards towards the Hinterlands. Towards their prey. She thought of the kind of monster she was hunting....

And a voice in the back of her mind said "Kill", and Jinx didn't have to be told twice.