N.B. Hello, and thanks for reading! I appreciate all the positive reviews I've already gotten.
I'll apologize upfront for the inconsistent publishing schedule, as well as the potentially-low quality of the writing. Though I'm glad you guys are enjoying it, I'm not a creative writer by any means, and this is basically therapeutic. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm so happy you guys like it, and I'm sorry if I mess up!
Zandred flung the door to Ezreal's room open.
To the right, a few steps down, was the huge hottub the supports had promised. The wall next to it boasted a tiny waterfall, continually rushing from the ceiling to the tub itself. A smaller door next to it led to a private bathroom.
The walls were mint green and chocolate brown, pleasing to the eye. Delicate carved flowers hung around the ceiling.
And the bed to Ezreal's left was spacious enough for four people, covered in fluffy white blankets and inviting pillows. Next to that, a night stand. An open book - the only evidence of Michael's habitation thus far - rested on it. Ezreal squinted and made out the title: History of the Institute of Justice.
"Like it?" Zandred seemed amused by Ezreal's gaping mouth.
"This is my room?"
"You and Michael's, yes."
"I live here?"
"If you like it, then yes."
Ezreal scrubbed at his face. "This is five times bigger than my house in Piltover. This room alone."
"Well, hopefully you'll get used to it," Zandred said with a smile. "Even if it is a bit big for the Prodigal Explorer. Before I leave, do you have any questions? Anything at all?"
Ezreal bit his lip. One of the biggest questions was "Why am I so popular with the Summoners?" But he doubted Zandred had a clear-cut answer for that. He was strong, but surely that couldn't be the only reason. Maybe the Summoners themselves didn't know.
"Zandred? What's up with all the water around here?"
"Oh. You're in the Supports' area. Water is a healing and restoring force. The Summoners found that placing the Supports around such a natural source of energy and around nature in general helps them, you know, be more spiritual. That way, their healing and calming powers are even more effective. And we found that many of them simply enjoy swimming or bathing." Zandred shrugged. "Anything else?"
"What's Michael like? I find it strange that I've never heard of him."
"But you don't know much about the other champions, do you? The Supports had to introduce themselves."
"I recognize most of the other champs. I know some of their names from The Justice Review. We used to get it in Piltover. Never a word about Michael, though."
"You'll have to meet him yourself. I don't particularly like speaking for other people...none of the Summoners do." Weird, Ezreal thought. They're all so careful. "I think you'll like him, though. Most people do. Any other gnawing questions? I know you're knowledge-hungry, but I have a meeting to get to soon and -"
"No, nothing else." Ezreal tried to smile. "Thank you for showing me around."
"It's my pleasure! I'll be in touch with you again soon. Let any of the Summoners know if you need anything, alright?"
"I will."
Zandred slipped outside Ezreal's door. It shut with a soft thud, leaving Ez alone with his thoughts.
He didn't particularly mind. Silence was his natural state. He'd grown accustomed to it during his explorations, and during his solitary studies in Piltover's cramped library. He snorted to himself and ran a tired hand through his hair, removing his goggles.
The Piltover Library, which was really just four dusty bookcases and a couple of empty crates, probably looked like a baby's nursery compared to the one at the Institute of Justice.
I'll wait to check it out, he thought. The way Zandred and Merilyn were talking, it sounds like this might be one of the few times I get to relax.
Thinking this, he pulled off his grimy white t-shirt and threw it on the ground. Then he examined the array of brass knobs on the side of the tub and finally found the jets. His faded blue jeans joined the pile of clothes.
His glove stayed on, however. Years of experimentation led Ezreal to conclude that it was virtually indestructible. A little bathing might actually do it some good.
"This is the good life," he said to himself, dumping lavender salts out of a glass vial. The humming jets encased his body up to his neck, soothing sore muscles, washing mud out of cuts. Beneath the foam, the blue light on his glove shone like a submerged sapphire.
He leaned back into the pounding waterfall, scrubbing days of dirt out of his hair. The life of an explorer was never a clean one.
But a few nagging thoughts kept him from fully enjoying himself. He didn't want to be here - it wasn't really his choice. And he didn't particularly enjoy fighting.
And he had no real friends yet. The Supports seemed friendly but...that was part of their job.
His long eyelashes seemed to grow heavier and heavier. At last he got out of the tub, shaking himself like a wet dog. After digging around in a small bathroom dresser, he found a loose pair of white pants.
Not really my style. They'll do for now.
He flopped onto the bed. It felt like lying on a cloud.
I should explore more, he thought. I need to know my environment.
Who needs a map, he thought.
He passed out.
He didn't really wake up at the first intrusion. Some half-slumbering part of him noted that there were strangers in his room, but that they posed no danger. Two novice Summoners in blue robes were fussing over him and dragging in a dresser identical to Michael's.
"He looks so cute and undeadly when he's sleeping," one whispered loudly to the other.
"I don't know…after seeing him on the Rift, it's hard to forget how much ass-whoopin' he does. I saw him take down an entire team by himself once. They couldn't catch him."
"I believe it. Why's he finally here, by the way? Do you know?"
"None of the Novices do. The Summoners aren't telling us."
"Heh. Probably means they don't know either." There was a scraping sound as they drug the dresser to Ezreal's side of the bed. "What size is he?"
"Same as Michael, judging by the way he's wearing his pants."
"Pfffft. Michael's a little taller, isn't he? Ez's just a kid."
"Yeah, yeah, but these should do. And if they don't -"
"We have to tell the weavers. Which is your job."
"No! I told them last time Cho'Gath's bowtie and top-hat didn't fit!"
"I told them the last time they made the cup size on Katarina's Halloween costume too small! It's your turn!"
"I don't want to tell them. They always get so irate. One time I tore a hole in my robes and they made me scrub their quarters with my toothbrush."
"Let's hope we got Ez's size right, then. I'd double check but –"
"Touching him while he's passed out isn't really nice, is it? Let's get out of here. I'm dying of hunger."
"You're always hungry. I doubt the entire buffet for the Champs could feed you for more than two days."
"Hush your mouth. With all the work I do, I think I should get more food than the rest of the novices anyways…"
Their voices trailed off. Ezreal slipped deeper into sleep, twitching slightly.
His eyes snapped open. His heart pounded before he realized where he was. His body wasn't used to having such a soft bed, or a bed at all. He'd learned to find rocks fairly comfortable during his travels.
The light slanting outside the window was a burnt orange. Sunset. Far away, he heard the belltower chime out seven o' clock. He'd slept for over ten hours straight.
More voices sneaked into his room. Straining his ears he could make out Taric's low intonations and Lulu's high, tinkling laugh. He leaned against the pillows to listen.
"What I'm saying is, we wouldn't be that mean to you," Taric said. "We've never played tricks on you. Right, girls?"
There was a murmur of assent sprinkled with giggles.
"I can tell by the way you're laughing that you're playing a trick on me!" A voice Ezreal didn't recognize. Michael? "What about the time Lulu turned me into a cupcake?"
"It was only once," Lulu laughed.
"Or the time you changed me into a dragon?"
"You made such a CUTE widdle dragon, though, Mikey!" The sorceress chortled with glee.
"Or the time Soraka thought it was funny to make my musical instruments look like bananas? There was yellow paint everywhere."
"It was funny, Michael. Besides, I helped you clean it up."
Ezreal leaned back even farther into his pillows. I didn't realize the Supports hazed people. Thought that was strictly for the Noxian military. The gentleness of their tricks made him smile.
"Or the time Taric tricked me into making out with him?"
"Was that trick? How was that a trick?" Taric sounded bemused.
Michael sputtered angrily. "Moving on – Karma carved my guitar picks into fans one time."
"I have a lot of downtime," she said indignantly.
"Sure you do, honey. You spend an awful lot of it with that handsome Yi guy," Taric said smoothly.
"Hush!"
"Nami hasn't played a trick on me, but she hasn't been here for long. Neither has Thresh, but he rooms – where does he room?"
"The eternal darkness," Soraka said with a snicker.
"My point is, fellow Supports, that you've played multiple tricks on me. Thus, I highly, highly doubt that the best champion in the League is sleeping in my room right now."
The footsteps and voices were coming closer. "Michael – the jokes we've played on you were never cruel." Soraka was using her supportive voice, cool and calm like an ocean in August.
"What's your point?"
"We know how much you admire Ezreal, and how much you want to be a support champion in the League. So joking about that would genuinely hurt your feelings," Karma replied.
Ezreal could see the shadows of feet at the bottom of the door. They were clustered right outside.
Ezreal heard Michael hesitate. "But why would he room here? Why would he even come here in the first place?"
"Who knows? Maybe he doesn't even know. He came to our table at breakfast, I invited him to our area, he agreed, and here we are."
"So he's really in there?"
"I don't know if he's actually in there. He could be at dinner. But he's here at the Institute, yes."
"We'll see about th-" The door opened. Ezreal winced and covered his eyes. The light from outside cut through the gloom in the room.
When he could see again, he found himself face to face with Michael.