It's been a while, Janna.
The lights are blinding, even behind these custom-made goggles. Something hits her as she carefully walks to the front of the stage, steps into the full view of the audience, finds herself right above screaming fans with orange facepaint and beaming supporters with laminated signs; it's something delicate, warm, powerful. The emotions are making her teeth clatter, even as it fills her veins with static. It's been a while since I felt so sure of myself, so loved, while - of course. Nervous.
'Wow,' Jarvan murmurs next to her, a dazed admiring look in his eyes. 'Jan, are we really that good?'
'You bet,' she says, and suddenly feels a little like crying. Fnatic! Fnatic! The crowd has gone wild at the sight of them, a hundred iPhones and tablets going off at once; they're all smiling widely, but the constriction in her gut forces her to reach for her teammates, crowd them around herself for both that shared moment of glory and that need for affection in a moment of vulnerability. 'Fnatic Jarvan. You're the best, you hear me? You, Kar, Cork, Grag. I wouldn't have made it here without you. I - it's already a success more than I've ever dreamed of, being able to stand here.'
Karthus sings his signature Pentakill song, inciting thunderous laughter rolling through the entire stadium. She looks towards him fondly, squeezing tight Gragas' hands.
'It's more a privilege than anything else, though, to have come so far with all of you. We can do this. We'll win the whole thing. We must.'
The Zaun College of Engineering and Applied Science is not a kind place to live.
A morning: she rises, unwillingly, wanting to throw things out of the window. Drags herself to class. Falls asleep through the quantum mechanics part of physical chemistry, for nobody actually understands that shit anyway. Panics over the math homework, the orgo homework, the need to update her resume. Nearly has a meltdown over her financial situation, and wonders if she'd have to sell herself again, do something with the frat boys five blocks down that she might regret. A general sense of numbness: wanting to believe things will get better, trusting that the degree would be able to change everything -
But is this chemical engineering degree, this endless working with bonds of carbon and hydrogen and shifting perspectives in 3D, really what I want in this life?
A light breeze brushes over her brow. She sighs.
There is one redeeming thing in her life, she supposes. Well - it shouldn't be the redeeming thing, not at all. She should stop playing video games. She should stop spending hours of her life on a nonexistent field trying to shield and heal. She really thinks she's compensating. It's near impossible to be kind in real life, and doesn't she want, in some part of her conscious, for those she supports in the game to be kind to her back?
'I promise I'm only going to get first win of the day tonight,' she mutters, as she flips open her laptop monitor.
She met Jarvan in an ARAM, playing an armored Prince with a long spear.
The game was winding down; she missed too many skillshots, Jarvan wasn't tanky enough to soak up the damage, and the adc was cursing at her, telling her that women were pussies that had no idea how to play the game and she was a piece of garbage that should just go fuck off. She told him to stop, politely; he laughed at her again, and she decided to just mute him, although the words that had already been said stung her more than she was willing to admit.
Jarvan (the Exemplar of Demacia) [14:23] : Leave the girl alone
Jarvan (the Exemplar of Demacia) [14:26]: Jesus Christ you have no human decency
Jarvan (the Exemplar of Demacia) [14:27]: This is why no girls play this game
Jarvan (the Exemplar of Demacia) [14:28]: You're playing fine, Storm. Shield me next time instead of him, will you? :) I'm gonna go in once my ult is back up.
She added him after the game. He's attending college on the other side of the country and had served in the military. An unfaltering gentleman, that's what he is. Probably a bit naive about how the world actually works, but man. There's a dignity in him that makes her think that in some world he's probably a real king. Had she also been in the military, she would have gladly followed him into war - if he was going to be the only one who believed in the ideals of chivalry on an entire battleground of hypocrisy and death, she was going to support him.
Karthus was the second real friend she made over the internet.
He's eccentric, that one: sometimes he would farm for 40 minutes and wait for lategame, but other times he'd cackle up in champion select with that troll of a teleport/revive combo and she'd know they are fucked. In the end, though, he is the powerhouse, the one that carries her to victory during those sleepless nights when she can't bring herself to look at her math homework without wanting to cry; she will always follow his flashes, his requiems, stand next to him in the teamfights waiting for him to come out of zhonyas. He builds up his power over time, turning from someone easily bullied in lane to an unstoppable monster in the lategame, going from saving himself with that exhaust to killing the enemy carry with it all in the span of one game; she wishes her life can also work like that, that if she lives through it all - brushes away the cat-calling and sits through the exams and waits for her bruises to heal - there will be a happy ending.
Karthus (the Deathsinger) [36:42]: Janna are you being depressed again
Karthus (the Deathsinger) [36:45]: You like life, don't you? The sun. The sky. Laughing and running and all that
Karthus (the Deathsinger) [36:47]: See, you're not like me. You crave happiness and actual affection
Karthus (the Deathsinger) [36:48]: But that also means you shouldn't be afraid
Karthus (the Deathsinger) [36:49]: Walk out into the sun and tell it just how much you love it. Embrace the wind. Do what you love. Your life is yours, make sure you use it well
Gragas is always there to stuff Karthus away and tell him to stop being so obsessed with death.
Gragas (the Rabble Rouser) [26:21]: I almost think his obsession with that is purely philosophical
Gragas (the Rabble Rouser) [26:22]: Karthus, plz, if you could become a lich, I'm sure you would
Gragas (the Rabble Rouser) [26:23]: Your collection of lich-related cards in Magic the Gathering is quite legendary
Gragas (the Rabble Rouser) [26:24]: I'm just depressed I'm sober
Gragas (the Rabble Rouser) [26:25]: Yo Janna, after this game, you should come over for a drink
He lives three hours away, four hours closer than Karthus but still three hours too far; she's visited him exactly once, buying a 3:00 am bus ticket to his city off a pure rush of impulse, but his living room was the epitome of cozy, all beer mugs, honey ale packs and too many servings of vodka. They both drank themselves to a fair amount of drunk, but when she hopped on the bus back to dorm the morning after, she sensed homesickness for the first time.
Corki is as different from her as he is from everyone else: while Jarvan enjoys giving speeches in student political unions and Karthus routinely administers CO2 euthanasia to his lab group's rats, Corki actually loves physics and calculus formulas. He's as mechanical as she is not: they rarely get through a game without hearing him rave about the new thing he has learned in 'The Intro to Flight', and he has never stopped questioning Jarvan about his military exploits, always wishing that Jarvan had served in the air force instead of the army.
Corki (the Daring Bombardier) [6:05]: oh come the fuck ON
Corki (the Daring Bombardier) [6:07]: not even an airborne division?
Corki (the Daring Bombardier) [6:08]: gg
Corki (the Daring Bombardier) [6:09]: Janna wouldn't it be nice if you actually have wind powers
Corki (the Daring Bombardier) [6:11]: You'd help me fly and I'll be able to report to ground control
They became better slowly. Karthus had to carry Corki through his plat promos, but Corki soon figured out a key combo to make plays with, and it was a smooth ride from there. She found it all comforting, really: even if she wasn't acing her Maxwell Equations and her gas phases, she was good at something. The game was very enjoyable. And she had made friends.
She mailed boxes of chocolates to Corki and Gragas on their birthdays, trying her best to make her handwriting pretty. It felt floaty - like it always did - but she reasoned to herself that they were keeping her grounded, her friends' voices convincing her to keep going to her classes and actually finish all her papers.
Corki: do you want to start a pro team?
Janna: Wait, what? Who?
Corki: You, me, Gragas, Karthus, Jarvan.
Janna: I really don't think Gragas is into that kind of thing...
Corki: For free beer, yeah, he would be.
Janna: They serve free beer at LAN events?
Corki: ... I'll tell them to use our prize money towards that.
Janna: ...
Corki: Come on! We'll rekt them. We'll rekt everyone. You don't really know just how good you actually are. We'll blow everyone up, just watch.
She sat outside of her student advisor's office, too nervous to even knock on the door. Her client was open and all her teammates were online, shiny golden Fnatic icons next to their names.
Someone help me do this.
A sudden sound; she nearly fell out of her chair, before she realized that it was Jarvan. God, Jarvan. She contemplated logging out of the client for a second, but ultimately couldn't bring herself to press the key: they had done too much for her. All the nights, all the competitive games, all the consoling things and gifted skins: they were the dearest people to her in the world, and she would never want to let them down.
Jarvan: Jan?
Jarvan; Janna, just do it
Jarvan: It's gonna work, I promise
Jarvan: We're a top-tier team. We could still do well at Worlds. If you can get this gap year, we'll be more dominant than ever. If you're so good already without spending as much time as everyone else...
Jarvan: ...
Jarvan: Janna, are you there?
Jarvan: Don't tell me you're still traumatized by that last game
Jarvan: It was terrible, I know. One auto-attack, right? All on me.
Jarvan: It's not your fault, we all could have done better
Jarvan: Did you see Gragas? He was as devastated as all of us, and have you ever seen him like that
Jarvan: But we can win if you would just come back
Jarvan: Keep playing with us
Jarvan: It may look like a long way up, but I've always had faith
Jarvan: I've had faith in us since the first tournament, back when nobody played this game
Jarvan: We won that pretty hard, remember?
Jarvan: It was glorious
Jarvan: Jan, trust me, trust us
Jarvan: Fnatic, now and forever.
She stood up abruptly and walked up to the door. The advisor smiled when he saw the trembling in her hands: 'I'm a Fnatic fan too, you know,' he said cheerfully. 'If you're sure this is what you want to do, we can try to work something out...'
Gragas: Janna
Janna: Yes?
Gragas: This stage makes me feel more intoxicated than when I'm actually intoxicated
Janna: Pls.
Janna: Drunk Gragas ults are the shit.
Gragas: Well you seem to be feeling better than me
Gragas: Do my champion select for me in a minute, would you
Janna: You'll be fine
Gragas: Keep rocking
Janna: You too