Hallo All,

Thank you for the kind reviews and encouragement. I had a bit of trouble with this chapter, some writers block. Please let me know what you think!

-Stormy

Yasuo shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked around the room. She had led him to an Ionian serving house; a fairly popular one. The first floor was dedicated to an accurate recreation of an Ionian bar and the second floor, where they were seated, had the theme of a teahouse. This seemed to be a popular destination for those seeking a piece of Ionia without traveling too far. There were silken curtains lining the walls and dividing the room so that each table was isolated from the others in a fair approximation of privacy. The curtains were sheer, however, and the profiles of people were easily discernible.

The proximity to people set him on edge. He was not used to being in the company of other people, hasn't been for a long span of time. Even his school, back in the former, brighter days, was isolated - sitting in a valley between two mountains where visitors and travelers were sparse. After the war, or after his piece of the war, he learned to shun civilization. There were too many opportunities for ambush; gossip flamed like grease in fire before his arrival and he learned to expect a gang of warriors intent on being the first to capture him as a welcome committee. Cities, towns, popular places, like this Ionian serving house, implied crowds. Crowds implied people, and people brought with them judgement and greed for reward and fame. Both would be had from taking him down.

Yasuo tried to disguise his unease by making it seem as if he was just studying and looking around the room and the curtained off section they were in. He noticed that she had already served him tea and that seemingly out of nowhere, assorted trays and dishes had appeared on the table before them. She smiled at him encouragingly as she gestured for him to help himself. His face flushed with embarrassment as he realized that in a twist to tradition, she was hosting him. The warrior side of him chided for not being chivalrous enough to make her comfortable.

Sona patiently sipped her tea and nibbled on the Ionian delicacies the proprietors had prepared for her while Yasuo took in his surroundings. She had discerned that he was a bit anxious, and perhaps he was unaware of it, but his hand had clenched around his sword as if it would give him a sense of security. She strummed her fingers over the strings of her instrument, and the gentle lull of a melody slowly eased the death-grip he had on his sword.

Yasuo glanced to his hostess bowed his head to her politely in thanks. Instead of sampling the Ionian delicacies, some of which he had not tasted since he left his status as the golden boy a the school, Yasuo tasted the tea she had poured for him. It warmed the clay vessel and it tasted bitter as it splashed over his tongue. It was bitter but smooth and it was familiar. For a moment, he was seated in a temple and an Elder droned about duty and obedience and chivalry, where his body and his mind were nourished simultaneously. Yasuo blinked and the spell was broken. He studied the curious woman before her as she left him to his thoughts.

"You are Ionian?" Yasuo asked, setting the tea vessel down. His voice was low so that it was contained within the gauzy curtains that surrounded them.

Sona nodded.

"And you don't talk?"

She nodded again, a hint of a smile dancing within her eyes. They were blue, Yasuo noticed, not unlike the color of the sky, deep in the valley he called 'home'.

"Vow of silence?" He tried again.

Sona shook her head with an amused grin. She sipped her tea and nudged a plate towards him to eat.

"So how do you talk?" Yasuo had to ask as he obediently raised a morsel of food to his lips.

Sona dipped her finger into a shallow dish of water and drew the Ionian character for "Don't" onto the table.

That much was obvious. "Summoner Eiko says you fight for the Demacians." Yasuo tried again. The food was delicious. He had not tasted true Ionian food for a long time, and the proprietors seemed to have made authenticity a goal. He sampled the other Ionian delicacies; they succeeded in every turn.

Sona idly wiped the character away with her hand and dried her fingers on the edge of her tunic. She looked to Yasuo and nodded again.

"Why? You are Ionian." He wasn't sure what he was expecting in response, but the surroundings, the tea, the food - it all reminded him of a home that no longer welcomed him. Like a mother whose love was extinguished as instantly and readily as a faucet; instead of warmth and welcome, he was set with warriors and assassins and accusations. Despite all that, he still fought for the land that shunned him and hunted him. Isolation and derision was his reward for faithfulness. Before him sat a daughter of the same mother, Ionia, and she chose to fight and serve another land. Why was she so beloved and embraced?

Sona's blue eyes studied him, noticing the hidden devastation that lined his features, and thoughtfully sipped her tea. She was silent as she composed her thoughts while Yasuo sank deeper into his own thoughts. The Ionian morsels tasted mocking to him now. After a few moments of silence, Sona raised her hands to her instrument and strummed softly, stirring him from his brooding.

I am Ionian, she played, softly so that the sounds reached no further than him. The sounds conveyed images, showing in his mind's eye, and at times, emotions that tugged his heartstrings. He was beginning to think that the strings she played and the strings in his heart were one and the same.

I was born there. I was also abandoned there. I've never known a family there. I lived there, in the orphanage, hoping and hoping that one day, to have a family and not be alone anymore, … Sona paused, her hands hovering over her strings to look out the window as she mused. … I was there in the orphanage for years, with hope slowly dying and unable to communicate. Ionian after Ionian passed me over; in a society where boys were prized to be warriors, no one wants a girl, especially a mute one. Yasuo startled as he realized the truth to her words…thoughts…sounds. Many of his friends in school came from orphanages. They showed the strongest promise of becoming warriors and they had greater drive, with nothing holding them back. … And then one day, a woman from Demacia came to find me. She had heard stories of this instrument, you see. Yasuo could see the Demacian woman that Sona strummed about, see the travels and the journey. She became my mother, gave me a voice by teaching me to play the instrument, and she gave me a family … Everything I have now, I owe to her. So I fight for her home, my new home too - the only home that would have me.

Sona rested her fingers over the vibrating strings to stop the low hollow sounds. She was welcomed by the proprietors because she often performed here. Her patronage drew crowds and the expense of serving her tea and Ionian delicacies were more than offset by the people who frequented the establishment. Now, however, was not the time to attract attention and draw a crowd, not with Yasuo finally relaxing.

"How," Yasuo was unsure of how to phrase the question. Conversing with her, through that instrument, could be taxing. It is one thing to hear words and feel emotions in response. It is something else altogether when the emotions were felt first and then rational thought followed second. He realized she could fuel fire or dampen passion on whims. "How do they accept this?" He tried again.

Sona beckoned him to eat again before raising her slim fingers over the strings.

… Practically speaking, I am pretty neutral in the grand scheme of things. I play a support role in these matches, and it is not a position that makes or breaks the match. Sona paused to smile brightly at him, … Unlike you, where you do exert a great deal of influence into the outcome of the matches. I am easily replaced with another who can support.

Yasuo frowned at her. "It would be hard to replace you," he said sincerely. Yasuo tasted more of the food before them, appreciating how refreshingly normal and good it felt to eat with company.

Sona's smile intensified and she plucked a string in appreciation. … But ultimately … Sona conveyed with an indifferent shrug, …They have no choice. It's my decision after all, and no amount of bullying will change it. Besides, its not like Demacia is totally evil.

Yasuo rubbed his face thoughtfully as he considered her sentiments. Not words precisely, but he could instantly understand her.

She smiled at him and gently rested her hand on his wrist for the briefest of moments. The move startled him, since her touch was warm through the cloth bracers and he had seldom been touched by anyone for far longer.

I would not be too concerned about the opinions of others if I were you. It is always hard to come into an atmosphere like the Institute. It is not unlike joining a new family - with pre-established rivalries and ties. Things will settle.

Sona radiated the gentle calmness of her nature and smoothed her hands over the edge of her instrument, thoughtfully rubbing a dusty spot. Yasuo felt her sentiments and it warmed him from his stomach outward, spreading as if he had swallowed pure sunshine.

"So why here?" Yasuo asked, unsure of what to say in response. Looking for a diversion, he gestured around the room. "Why Ionian?"

Sona's fingers scraped over the instrument's strings again. While I have a home in Demacia, I cannot escape or forget the past. I am Ionian. It's part of who I am. I cannot change the blood in my veins and now and then, it calls for a reminder of what once was...

Her fingers stilled on the strings and she looked out the window, where a commanding wind was picking up and dark clouds started roiling. …Would you care to accompany me back to the Institute? She asked, I think that it will soon rain and I have matches this evening.

Yasuo offered her a hand as he stood up, gently aiding her to her feet. "How does it stay up?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow at her instrument.

She smiled and shrugged. After he had helped her to her feet, the instrument had raised obediently as well, waist high and seemingly of its own accord. It always had, after my mother showed me how to play.

Yasuo led her down the stairs and to the front. The elderly proprietors smiled when they saw them. "Please, mother," he said in Ionian politely, "allow me to get our meal today."

Sona made to protest, but he quelled her hands before they reached her instrument. "It has been a long time since I was able to sit and eat and converse with a friend. Allow me this favor please."

Apparently Sona never paid, but received a bill once a month to her quarters at the Institute. With her subdued and her thanks echoing on the strings, Yasuo mimicked the same, giving the details of his residence at the Institute.

Hi All,

Please let me know what you think of this chapter. It's a bit shorter than I originally intended, but I got stuck with writer's block. Hopefully I'll clear that up soon and move the story along.

-Stormy