"Are you sure about this, Zandred?" Michael looked into the full-length mirror, nonplussed.

"Absolutely, Michael. Every champion on the Rift has to have a costume that differs slight from, ah, every day wear."

"Ezreal gets to wear a hoodie and I'm stuck in this," Michael muttered. Ezreal snickered.

"I thought you'd be more excited to get the chance to prove your worth at last. I suppose I was wrong," Zandred sniffed.

"It's not that. It's just – I'm going out to dinner with Katarina, and I look like a low budget version of Talon."

Zandred's eyes widened slightly. Michael didn't notice, but Ezreal did, and frowned in thought. " Did you say Katarina? As in the Noxian assassin? What will your mother think?"

Michael scowled.

"He's going with me and Lux as well, Zandred. It'll be fine. He's trying to get me to socialize with the champions. All for the good, right?" Ezreal offered, along with a bright smile. "I mean, surely I'm more likely to stay at the Institute if I make friends, and that's your whole goal, right?"

Zandred smiled back uncertainly. "I and the rest of the Summoners would love for you to remain. I suppose I'll meet you and Michael at the entrance of the Sparring Grounds at 6:45."

"We'll see you then."

Zandred bowed deeply and hurried away, doubtlessly rushing to report Michael's dinner-date to Merilyn.

Ezreal waited a beat, then said, "I actually kinda like it."

"I suppose." The costume that the clothiers came up with for Michael was so dark it hurt to look at. His chest piece and shoulders were covered by muted silver on plates of blackest ebony, emphasizing his tall stature and broad shoulders. All the black brought out Michael's gray-green eyes, drawing attention to them. They were the only spots of color that weren't black, white or silver.

Ezreal was sure of one thing – he would hate to encounter a champion looking like Michael on the Rift. He looked scary.

Noticing Ezreal's avid gaze, Michael said, "This would be more fitting for you, honestly, as a carry."

"Why's that?"

Michael chuckled. "I'm going to look all badass on the battlefield, like Darius or something, then I'm going to whip out my clarinet and start playing music at them. The image just cracks me up a little."

Ezreal paused, then added, "I can sort of understand what Katarina was talking about."

"Do I look Noxian?"

Ezreal looked at him from head to toe. Look Noxian? No, more than that. Michael looked as if he'd stepped out of a book on the Dark Knights, one of Noxus' ancient factions. In fact, Ez remembered the exact book he recalled the illustration from – Of Bloodshed, by Casteel White, a Noxian historian. The armor, the intent gaze, the dark hair…

"I think they wanted you to."

Michael groaned. "But why?"

"I'm not sure," Ezreal said slowly. "But at least you look cool. Let's go to dinner."

Michael could feel peoples' reactions to him. That was, perhaps, the worst part.

Today should have been so happy. Ezreal walked next to him, excited to eat dinner with Lux and to duel with Michael.

As for the costume, it was quite comfortable and fit him well. His Ionian clarinet was tucked behind the breastpiece, next to his thudding heart. As he walked by, the eyes of the Summoners invariably shifted first to Ezreal, then to him.

Still he felt out of place, impossibly tall. People bowed as he and Ezreal passed, and behind them, whispered rumors began to circulate. Ezreal…Noxians…He sensed dread, as mottled and red as dried blood.

They were scared that the boy by his side had deserted them. Even though Ezreal was entirely unaffiliated, people pretended he was Demacian. After all, he was blonde and perfect. Why would side with Noxians? The race of outsiders, of hate?

The fear saddened him. All he wanted from life was to make people happy. He had failed there, he knew.

His parents. Darrigan found his son confusing, unknowable. Michael's gift for music baffled the jolly Summoner, who couldn't carry a tune any farther than a thousand pounds of concrete. Darrigan was always loud and smiling. Michael's reserved nature worried him.

And Merilyn. He didn't know why he couldn't make her happy, but he never could. He remembered bringing her a flower when he was smaller, determined to win her approval. She had been sitting at their kitchen table in Demacia, staring into space, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and fluffy slippers.

Michael timidly pressed the blossom into her hand and bowed, waiting for a reaction. A small smile, a thank you. Anything.

Instead, she ripped the petals from the bloom one by one, then crushed them, then flung them into Michael's face. She hadn't said anything, but the hatred smoldering in her eyes was eloquence enough.

By the time the pair arrived at Central Fountain, Michael was thoroughly depressed.

Central Fountain was not actually a fountain at all. Resting in the middle of the Institute, it was a three-story building akin to a shopping mall. A few enterprising business owners had opened food and clothing shops for the Summoners and champions. Though the food wasn't quite as good as the homecooked meals outside of the Institute, it couldn't be beaten in terms of cheapness and convenience. Lux and Katarina were standing outside, away from the bustling crowd.

The atmosphere was a great deal nicer than the shops outside as well. The Institute's tasteful decorating could be seen throughout the building, which had high arching ceilings, many fountains, and more statues. The oil lamps were supplemented by experimental electricity, creating a warm, cozy glow.

"Ezreal! Hi!" Lux dashed to him and hugged him tightly. The aroma of violets and sunshine wafted up from her hair. "Glad you could make it. Ready for dinner?"

"I'm starving. Haven't had a thing to eat today."

"Too busy kicking butt, I see." She beamed at him and he felt his heart melt a little. She was prettier than the Avarosan murals in Freljord. She reminded him of the painting of daisies blooming on a sheet of snow.

"I should've come to the Institute sooner. I would've if I'd known I'd get such a warm welcome."

"I wish you would have showed up when this whole thing started. Maybe the other carries would stand a chance." Her blue eyes sparkled merrily.

"I don't know." He jokingly flexed a muscle. "I doubt having a few more years to play against me would help them."

"Probably not." She smiled coyly and kneaded his forearm. It tingled with warmth. "Though you have some working out to do before you fight the top-laners."

"I could probably fight Jayce," he said, jokingly. "It's not like he's twice my size or anything."

"Not like he has a hammer that's bigger than you, too."

"Renekton's not that bad. Oh, and Irelia. Her constant stuns don't counter me at all."

"Neither does Taric, right? Or my Light Binding."

"I'm so overpowered, your cage doesn't even stop me." He winked at her. "I'm kidding, of course. I'm definitely not that arrogant."

"I think that's part of why you're so good," she said. "You know your limitations. Now, if you talk to Vayne, all she wants to do is 1v5."

"Ugh." Ezreal shuddered. "Vayne. She hits so hard."

"True that. And she's about as hard to track down as Katarina…" Lux's eyes grew distant. She was doubtlessly recalling games against Vayne. They were often memorable, painful experiences. "Enough of that, though. Let's get some grub." Ezreal followed her inside, leaving Katarina and Michael to their own devices.

"Nice costume," Katarina said with a smirk.

"Thanks. It was all my idea, as you've probably guessed." Michael sighed. "Go ahead and say it – I look Noxian."

"You seem saddened by that. Why? We are a proud people."
"Wouldn't you be sad if you suddenly discovered that everyone thought you were Demacian?"

Katarina laughed out loud, then lowered her voice. "Of course I would! Demacians are stupid!"

"It's the same sort of feeling."

"But it shouldn't be. Noxians are superior."

"Of course you would think that. You're Noxian."

"My poor child." Katarina stroked his cheek. She found touching him irresistible and wasn't sure why.

"It's because I'm telepathic and telempathic," Michael said. His green eyes lightened slightly. "Touching me creates pleasurable sensations."

"You can read my mind?" Katarina shrank from him. "Since when?"

"I can only read thoughts occasionally, but I can tell how you feel all the time. Did no one tell you that that's half of my powers?" Michael laughed humorlessly. "It's not like I'm joining the League because I'm super strong."

Katarina ran a finger down his cheek again. He touched her wrist and held it softly. To both of their surprise, she blushed, hard.

He looked like a knight from years gone by. But he was a musician. Such a strange combination could only be Noxian.

That was the truth, then. There was no other way that anyone could be his father but –

Almost too late she threw up mental shields as impenetrable as the armor he wore.

"What?" The hold on Katarina's wrist grew tighter. "What were you thinking? My father? What about him?" He released her hand, shaking his head. In part of him, white-hot anger erupted. He wanted to crush Katarina's wrist, smash her shoulder blades, lash her with a thousand whips.

But the other side of him subdued the anger. The Support meditation helped him quiet and focus his mind. He would never hurt a person outside of the Rift, no matter what his heritage was.

He realized that he was not angry at her, but at his parents, and at the fact of his own birth.

Ezreal was pleased to discover that, not only did he and Lux have a lot in common – she was the easiest person to talk to he'd ever met. Despite her pretty appearance, she wasn't high maintenance or uppity. Ez found her relaxed demeanor attractive.

"You're pretty brave for ordering a messy sandwich on a first date," he observed.

"Is this a date?" Lux looked surprised. "Had I known that, I would've taken you somewhere fancier." She took an enormous bite of her cheesesteak sandwich, another Piltover classic.

"I think you mean that I would've taken you somewhere."

Lux laughed. "I'm a general. I'm plenty rich enough to pay for dinner."

Mimicking Graves' drawl, Ez said, "It wouldn't do for a purty little thang to go payin' for a man's meal."

Lux dissolved into giggles. After a moment, Ezreal joined in. The tables of Summoners around them were watching them, but neither of them noticed.

"So anyways, what do you think of the Supports?"

"They're amazing. I love living with them." Ezreal gulped some of his cream soda. A little too sweet, but Lux made it seem just fine. "I'm not used to having a roommate, but Michael's awesome."

"Is he? He seems a little weird."

"He's just going through some family stuff right now. You know how that is." On the outside, he appeared relaxed and confident. But his palms were sweating slightly. "Say, uh, do they show movies around here?"

"Oh yeah! There's a theater right outside of the Institute. Why?"

"I was just thinking…even if dinner's on you, I could take you to a show after Michael and I's sparring match."

Her blue eyes lit up and Ezreal felt a wave of relief wash over him. She did like him. A lot. Knowing that somehow made the world seem brighter, more worthwhile. "I'd love that. Though you'd have to pay for popcorn too, and that stuff costs an arm and a leg."

"I like a woman with an appetite," Ezreal said.

"I probably eat more than you do." Lux sipped soda and smiled at him. "Just tell me if it gets excessive."

"You're so skinny, though." That was probably not the right word to use, Ezreal thought. Lux, seeing his distress, chuckled. "I mean that in a good way."

"I know you do. You're a sweetheart, Ezreal."

"I'm glad you think that. It's nice to have someone to hang out with. I-I don't tend to make friends easily."

Lux nodded over her sandwich. "I can understand why."

"I'm glad that you do, because I don't know why." Ezreal leaned forward. "I try to be nice, but people have a difficult time liking me as a person. Like the other carries."

Lux nodded again. "We have the same problem."

"Which is?"

"Intimidation. People are afraid of us. People view us as a threat even when we're friendly. They think that, because we're smart, that we can't be nice to them."

Ezreal shook his head in wonder. "Is that really all it is?"

"Well, in your case, it's your status as a carry. If I were a carry, I would feel weird about being friends with you if I knew that I was going to be stomped every time I faced you."

"I suppose that's true." Ezreal sighed. "I just wish they didn't hate me. Graves won't even say good morning to me." Lux's blue eyes reflected her sympathy. She clasped Ezreal's gauntlet in both of her hands. Even through the rough fabric, he could feel the soft warmth of her touch, like the sun in early March.

"Not everyone hates you. That's all that matters." Their eyes met intently. Ezreal felt he could lose himself in that pure, crystalline blue. Their compassion was enough to make up for years and years of solitude. But Lux had to break the moment. "Anyways, we've got to hurry up. Your duel's soon."

Ezreal drained the rest of his soda. "Man, I hope I do well. I really want Michael to get into the League."

"Yeah, I'm not sure what's up with that. He should've been in a long, long time ago." Luxanna shook her head, mystified. "You'd think that with his mother at the top, pulling the strings…"

"I'm not sure what's going on. Maybe we'll find out. But first, dinner, a duel and a show. Hopefully you don't like cheesy romance movies…"

"Heck no. I'm all about the action." She flashed Ezreal a seductive smile along with the obvious double entendre. Ezreal blushed and looked into his soda cup. When it came to women, talking was hard enough. But the other stuff? He had no idea. Not the slightest. "It's funny to watch you freak out, Ezreal. I won't even lie."

"That's not very nice."

She laughed wildly. "One doesn't become a general in the Demacian legion by being nice all the time."

"Speaking of which, I can't wait to do those interviews."

"Me neither. As long as I get a piece of the pie." Lux smirked. "I'm kidding."

"I don't care. It's not like I need the money. I do it for the same reason most historians do their jobs – to preserve the past for the future."

The two stood up. A novice Summoner eagerly scampered over to clean up their trash. Lux flipped him a coin and watched his mousy face light up.

"I love this place sometimes," Lux sighed. "Sometimes it gets on my nerves."

"I can totally get that. I feel watched all the time."

The two moved towards the exit. Lux put an arm around Ezreal's shoulders nonchalantly. After a moment, he did the same. "It's hard to walk like this," she commented.

"Worth it, though."

"I didn't realize how cuddly you'd be in real life. You always looked like such a hard-ass in your magazine pictures. Sorry if that sounds weird."

"No apologies necessary. Also, it's not that weird compared to the rest of my life right now. It's not like I have to go fight a duel to get someone else into a League that I didn't even want to join. Someone who has a major crush on me, who may or may not be Noxian. Cuddliness seems downright normal compared to that."