Haven't really been in the mood to write... Almost done with this fic, in any case. Maybe two, three chapters left. I can do this.
-An Icy Storm, an Unspoken Farewell-
Sadly, Irelia didn't make it more than a few steps outside of Demacian territory before the wind picked up, howling like some caged beast and tossing huge drifts of snow as though they were wilted leaves caught in a current.
In fact, the warrior would have likely been completely buried had Riven not appeared out of nowhere and literally swept her off her feet, dashing forward—creating a cone-shaped shield of sickly green energy as she did—so that the world around them became a blur of white and gray.
When bright baby blue orbs fluttered open, they were standing in the castle foyer, the mercenary's shoulders rising and falling a bit more rapidly than normal, though she gave no other indication that she was winded. "Lux warned you not to leave."
She had been too stubborn to listen, of course. Karma was likely beside herself with worry.
Speak of the devil—
"Irelia? Where are you?"
The carmine-haired warrior shook her head, realizing in that moment that the action brought her face closer to Riven's due to the fact that strong arms were still holding her up princess style.
"Could you… put me down?" A hand was dangerously close to the curve of her buttocks and that fact was becoming more painfully obvious the longer she remained so close to the silver-haired fighter.
The Exile started—a response that Irelia likely wouldn't have even noticed had she not been in the other woman's arms—and her expression became abruptly neutral. As though she was embarrassed by their proximity—'Cute.'
It felt as though she had been thinking that word a lot recently.
"Omigosh, thank goodness! I thought something bad might happen to you, so I sent Riven."
That explained the intent gaze she had sensed trained on her earlier.
Riven deposited—read: basically dropped—her on the floor upon Lux's appearance and turned her back on the pair, announcing, "I shall be in my quarters if you require my services, Lux."
And the Will of the Blades watched as the taller woman walked off, a perplexed expression twisting her features. 'Just what was that?'
"What was what?"
"Wait, you heard me?"
"You thought it quite loudly. Is something wrong?"
Light blue orbs flicked back to the spot where Riven had last been and the would-be thief smiled slightly. "Actually, I think everything is perfect."
This was the first time Riven had left her alone—allowed her free roam of the castle without having to worry about scrutiny—since she had started visiting.
She couldn't waste this chance.
"Where're you going?" Lux questioned, tilting her head curiously.
"I need your help, Luxanna."
The blonde grimaced at the use of her first name. "Yes?"
"I'm looking for something."
The Will of the Blades slipped past the chatty guards outside of the vault, biting back the thrilled laughter that threatened to leave her.
This was child's play!
Her dear blonde mage was quite chatty and it was only a matter of using the correct sequence of inquiries to finally crack the location of her target: the royal family safe.
She could practically hear the clink of gold coins already.
"Karma."
There was a pause before the woman finally answered, "Mm?" her voice thick with sleep.
"I've located our target."
"Really?" All of a sudden, she sounded much more awake. "This is wonderful, Irelia! I'll gather a caravan and we can be there tomorrow evening at the latest. Just continue to play Luxanna's friend and you should be safe."
Sad thing was, the plucky mage had begun to grow on her. And so had—
'Stop that. No sense in getting attached.'
For the rest of the day, Irelia was in an excellent mood. As the sun began to sink past the horizon and the frogs that lived in the moat around the castle began to croak a song to welcome the pale crescent of the moon, her high spirits began to dim.
Her mission was drawing to a close. This time tomorrow, Karma would arrive with a platoon of freshly trained Ionian warriors disguised as simple travelling entertainers bound for distant lands. They would get in, get the jewels, and hopefully get out without a hitch.
The blue bloods wouldn't even notice their treasures were missing until it was too late.
Her mission was drawing to a close… and that meant that she wouldn't be returning to Demacia any time soon. Hell, it meant she would likely have to stay away from Ionia for a while as well, seeing as so many people in the castle knew her face.
But that—having to avoid her own home like a common criminal—didn't bother her half as much as the thought of never seeing Riven again did.
And that sentiment bothered her most of all.
This woman who had been the bane of her existence for the past two months had somehow managed to work her way under the red-head's skin. She had holed up in that little niche that Karma had carved out—a place where all of her care and respect just so happened to exist as well.
How?
It didn't make any sense.
-w-
Riven scowled, her eyes closed as she sat cross-legged on the thick pelt that cushioned the cold stone floor.
This was getting out of hand.
For some reason, she kept getting close to the red-haired Ionian—whether it was unconscious or not, the steadily developing habit was a horrible one.
She needed to nip this… whatever it was, in the bud.
The Exile inhaled deeply and forced her expression to become neutral, reigning in her chaotic thoughts and focusing them on her breathing. She had been meditating to clear her mind for the past few hours to no avail, but one more try couldn't hurt.
Inhale… Exhale.
The fire crackled quietly, its steady warmth combatting the pervasive chill.
Inhale… Exhale.
Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor, but the Exile paid them no heed. She wasn't expecting company, nor did she desire any. Besides, it was late and whomever it was was likely headed to bed.
Inhale—
'Knock, knock.'
Curses.
The warrior shook her head despairingly, but rose from her seated position and crossed the room, pulling open the door without bothering to confirm the identity of the person on the other side.
That was her first mistake that night.
The moment the door was opened, Irelia came bustling in, wrapped in a warm winter coat and muff that she had purchased during their earlier expedition into the shopping district. She had apparently gone outside again—which didn't make much sense because Riven's quarters were located at the centermost region of the castle. For what reason would she have braved the elements?
"You'll never believe the trouble I went through to get this," the woman was saying, smiling as though they were sharing some private joke. "I never drink the stuff myself, but I hear it's good for the chill."
"This" turned out to be a bottle of whisky—and quite an expensive one, if the label was anything to go by.
"Where did you—"
"Lux showed me the private storeroom," she laughed, kicking off her boots and shedding her coat. No wonder she had been bundled up like that: all she wore underneath was a gown better suited for the warmer months. Riven herself had stripped out of all her armor and was wearing the hooded, short-sleeved, skin-tight green suit beneath it.
"… You're in high spirits."
"I suppose I am." Irelia crossed the room and plopped down, crossing her legs at the ankles and looking expectantly towards her impromptu-hostess. "Drink with me."
"I don't drink." And yet, she found herself moving towards Irelia, pulled in by that intense magnetism that the red-head seemed to exude.
And that was her second mistake—perhaps she had been fooled like the Demacian nobles…
"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?"
Riven blinked, now aware that baby blue orbs were trained intently on her. For some reason, the gaze made her feel… anxious. "No."
"Somehow, I don't believe you."
"Believe what you will." The warrior lowered herself to the plushy hide and stretched her legs out. They sat in a companionable silence for a time, just staring into the fire.
Then, there was movement to her right: Irelia was cracking open the bottle. She took a swig before handing it to Riven, who hesitated.
'Her lips were just…'
Foolish brain. What did that matter?
The Exile reached out and took the proffered vessel, ignoring the thrill that went through her when their fingers brushed. "Why now?"
"Mm?" She seemed distracted.
"You said that you do not drink. Why now?"
Irelia's expression became more serious. "It just seems like a good time, I suppose."
What did she mean by that?
Before Riven could ask, the Will of the Blades swiped the bottle from her hand and took another swig, this one deeper. "Lighten up, Rain Cloud."
"'Rain… Cloud'?"
"Heh. It's what Lux calls you. She says you're a cloud saturated with the elements of a storm and you'll feel much better if you just let them all out."
Lux said that?
The mercenary averted her gaze. "And what do you think?"
The bottle was pressed back into her hands and Irelia waited until she took a sip, grimacing at the taste, before responding, "I think… That you're running from something."
"From what?" she asked incredulously.
"Yourself?" Her grin was lopsided, charming. "You're the type who thinks too much and feels too little, Riven."
"Perhaps," she grunted.
"There you go again. Honestly, what could be on your mind now?"
"You." The painfully honest answer was out before she could stop it and it lingered in the air between them, adding a new gravity to the situation that hadn't been there previously.
If the gods had mercy, they would strike her down right then and there.
Irelia tilted her head, but if she was surprised by the admission, she didn't show it. "Me?"
"Mm…"
"Why?"
If Riven thought too much, then Irelia asked too many questions.
The warrior shrugged, accepting the bottle without comment and taking another sip. The second time around was much easier and she could almost ignore the way it burned her throat as her entire body warmed a bit. She was feeling a bit more relaxed as well.
"Well?"
Her one-track mind would get her into trouble one day—it likely had at some point.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Irelia chuckled—the sound rich, warm—and Riven blinked. "Why are you laughing?"
"Cute."
"What?"
The red-head's gaze became oddly gentle and the Exile suddenly felt warm for more reasons than the alcohol. "You heard me."
Irelia thought… She had never been called 'cute' before and she'd be lying if she said that it didn't flatter her coming from the Will of the Blades.
"I… Thank you." She would have averted her gaze, but she found herself once again caught up in that inexplicable magnetism. Her heart skipped a beat.
"For what? I've only told you the truth." That silver tongue would be the warrior's undoing. "May I ask you something?"
A little red flag went off in her head, but she murmured, "Of course."
"Would you mind if I kissed you?"
Whoa, where had that question come from? Why would Irelia want to kiss her? She wasn't anything special—not like the fiery-haired Ionian.
She was so close now that Riven could make out every individual eyelash surrounding those beautiful baby blue orbs. "Irelia…"
"Shh." A gentle hand cupped her cheek and there was the slight pressure as soft, plump lips pressed against hers. The contact lasted for a small eternity and yet it was far too brief. "Sweet dreams, Riven."
With that, she rose and gathered her things, leaving the room without another word and leaving the silver-haired woman alone with her thoughts.
'Her lips were just—'
Foolish brain… What did that matter?
-End Chapter-