Chapter 19 : Sunrise

The haze cleared bit by bit yet the strong alcohol still dulled his senses. It was a stupid thing to do; kiss his rival. Yet the warm sensation of her skin had been a temptation the moment their hands touched. Was it also the sweet spice that wafted along her persona? He couldn't tell.

Slowly he pulled himself away, acutely aware of how the merriment around them had subsided. Perhaps hoping to see the development of their intimacy. Or perhaps the buzz of the alcohol still tickling his nerves. His hand fell away, leaving warm trails along her skin. In her inebriated state, the scout hummed in appreciation at the way his fingertips grazed down her cheek.

What was to come out of this? The sheer thought wove around her dizzy mind. She shouldn't really be thinking this hard but the way his warm lips felt against hers was a sin in itself. What was a sin? Was it truly something so vile as to enjoy kissing your rival? Kissing a Noxian? This same man who had countlessly pulled her back from the brink of death.

Golden eyes shifted from the pursed line of his lips to the soft dusting of color on his cheeks. Was this the effect of the drink as well? She was so tempted to touch his skin, how his scars would feel beneath her fingertips. Stop. These thoughts should never enter her mind.

Her arms felt heavy beside her, eyes studying him in every detail with the fire's glow.

He watched her in return. Sepia eyes trailing down the crown of messy dark locks to the inquisitive glances of her odd eyes. It had been startling when he first laid on them. What was it that he felt? An odd sense of protectiveness whenever this blasted scout would walk into danger. Had it started when she had stumbled upon him in Freljord? He could not really tell.

This won't do. The words echoed in his mind, creasing the skin between his brows. This won't do.

He had no qualms on ending relationships, his blade had fell countless men and women. He was a man destined to walk life on his own. It was pitiful how he let this Demacian get between the cracks of the armor he swore he wore too tightly. There was no need to prolong this dalliance.

He swallowed the rising bile, appreciating the way it burned inside. What was happening to him? What spell had this woman cast on him that he had gone out of his duties? Of all the women, it had to be a Demacian. A kin he had vowed to never meddle with; and now this, kissing a woman of ranking from the said nation.

Gods, what was becoming of him?

What was wrong? She couldn't help but wonder. First he was emotionless and now he had his trademark scowl painted on his features. She reached out to him, her fingers a breath away from him. His larger hand caged her wrist, eyes directed to her own. There was turmoil in them, a storm brewing to be let loose.

What was wrong? She wanted to ask him, wanted to know more of him; take in the very poison that was Talon. Had he not engulfed her already? The alcohol was making her quite courageous. "Talon, wh-"

He let out a soft sigh, cutting off her words. What happened? His fingers unfurled from her wrist and no sooner the assassin excused himself from the table. A joined well wishes of good night joined the noises and the assassin fled the night.

The marksman fell herself break apart. She had no right to feel this way but why? Why was it that each step he took away, it left a fragment of herself in his wake? Valor pecked on her numbed fingers. His worried tone bringing her out of her depressed stupor. His tone was reassuring, they should not dally with such a man. He was a Noxian, these scum were not meant to be allied with Demacians in the first place.

How can she keep on convincing herself that when his actions always denied those claims? Why had he chose to keep her alive? He could have dumped her anywhere, leaving her to her fate in the desert. He didn't. He could have cared about showing her the little cave he had stayed looking for Marcus. Yet he did.

His words were always bitingly cold and yet his actions were warm.

The thoughts buzzed around her head, summoning a headache she'd hate by morning. She reached out to the cup he had previously held away from her. Calloused fingers wrapped around the object and despite Valor's disapproving tone; she threw her head back and drank.

…

Morning.

He almost dreaded waking up. Almost.

Had he slept? He could not really recall the moment his consciousness lapsed into the warm embrace of sleep. Dreams evaded him in the desert, not that he needed them. It was easier to wake without dreams plaguing one's sleep. Yet, this sleep was not a restful as he previously had.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, dulled only by the buzz that the alcohol provided. But now that the toxin had been washed out in his turbulent sleep, his thoughts were much clearer.

Sepia eyes shifted to the open window of his little shack, it was still a little dark outside. Should he sleep a little more or walk the petulant thoughts off? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pushed himself off the cot.

He blinked the last tendrils of sleep, stretching his scarred body to rid off the kinks from his fitful sleep. Donning a simple cream top that Teva had provided, the Noxian made his way out of the house. The wind was cool, enough to calm the warmth of his skin. He shivered lightly, cursing at how thin the fabric of his clothes were.

He wrapped his arms around himself, a feeble attempt to ward off the cold but something to cope with. His body was trained for such harsh conditions, maybe the reprieve had rusted him. The calm was so off-putting, so foreign to his normally chaotic life. How long has it been since his last reprieve? He was provided with the rest, food and clothing from people who allied themselves to the Demacian flag.

Had it not been the familiar designs of her clothing, he was sure they would not welcome them. Her. His thoughts always went back to the woman. She was infuriating, always a step behind him. Her eyes were curious, motives he always tried to hide from everyone even from those close to him. Yet, here she was, a woman from Demacian, someone who had trailed him to Freljord and back. What was he to do with her? Her task was done but she chose to stick to him, like a lamb delighted by the presence of a wolf.

Perhaps he should be thankful of her presence but he could not help feeling annoyed at the delay she had provided. Was it really? Another emotion came to mind but he quashed it before it grew in volume in his thoughts.

His feet brought him back to the tables, now empty of wine and food. The once burning pyre was snuffed out and the cold winds cooling the embers of the once roaring flame. Drunk men littered the sand, covered in a thick fabric as they snored their worries away. He arched a brow at the individuals littering the ground, they were a number but he didn't dare disturb their sleep.

He trailed his fingers along the weathered wood of the feasting tables, some parts still damp from spilled wine. It was here he found her. She slumped on the table, her hair matted to her skin. An empty goblet toppled beside her hand. Thick blankets were piled on top of her, shielding her from the cold winds of night. Valor was beside her, asleep as he perched on the table's edge.

There was a blissful smile on her face; he hardly saw that kind of expression on her face. She always tried to guard her emotions; useless as he can read her so easily. It was if he could piece some of her thoughts before they appeared on her face. Maybe, it was her eyes, they always spoke volumes. He shook the errant thoughts, damned mind.

He bent down towards her, his long tresses touching the soft flesh of her cheek like a curtain to shield her expression from the world. Right now, he felt like he was the only one deserving to see this face. She stirred in her sleep, brows crossed in annoyance.

He stood straight, gaze shifting to Valor who was now awake in suspicion. Talon can never be in fond terms with this avian but they were in mutual respect. This Demacian was quick to pacify any quarrels the roc would start, he was thankful for that.

He settled down on the seat beside her, the sun slowly rising to the horizon. No sooner the cold would be warm and the shadows be bathed in light. He was thoughtful today, a trait he hardly nurtured in his profession.

The scout shifted once more in her sleep, her lips murmuring sweet nothings he hardly cared to decipher. What had come upon him to kiss her? Surely, it was not only of the liquor. He shook the pathetic thoughts away.

There was no use in mulling over spilled wine.

He let out an exasperated sigh, his arms came around the Demacian. With little effort he hefted the woman plus the layers of blankets into his arms; it was the least he could do for the mishap. Valor squawked at the audacity of his actions but he didn't care.

Adjusting the sleeping bundle in his arms, the Noxian made his way back to the scout's shack. Valor flew beside him, the roc's steel eyes keeping close watch. "I won't do anything." He muttered but it did little to lessen the intensity of its gaze.

He found himself in front of her temporary home, and stepped through the covered entrance. With a gentleness he never thought he was capable, he settled the marksman down. His calloused fingers tucked the blanket around her. Valor quickly perched on the foot of her bed, shooing the man out.

"All right, I'm heading out," He muttered in annoyance, "Blasted bird." At which Valor replied in an annoyed cry.

It was much brighter now. A distant sunrise enveloping the world in light. He cringed at the prospect of wading under the heat. He'd have to wake her up early so they can leave before noon. He made his way back to his own little shack, eager to get things packed up.

They?

He paused.

Perhaps it can just be whittled down to a 'he'. He could leave her here, along with whatever bubbling feelings she brought in each stride. He would not be burdened to watch each step she made on the sand or how the strong gusts had blinded her during their trek. She was not needed, he already had the information.

Her words were a mere bluff, claiming to withhold information when there was none. She was a terrible liar. He knew she was lying but his better nature had caved in. And what did it lead to?

He hastened his steps and pushed aside the fabric to the entryway. If he wanted to be rid of her, he'd have to go now.

...

Pain.

Thundering pain; pounding her head like jackhammers.

What was the source of this atrocious headache? Bleary eyes opened to greet the golden glow of morning, shutting immediately once the light caused more harm than comfort. She should have listened to the locals; the beverage was potent.

The scout rolled to her side, burying her head into the cushion provided for her. Despite her effort to drown out the light, the sun was a worthy enemy- spilling into her little house from the wretched window. She mumbled a soft curse, wishing for warm soup from the tavern and chastising herself for drinking too much. She could hear Valor's chastising noise beside her bed. Never had she drank this much in Demacian, it was an odd change. She never liked the buzz of alcohol and how courageous she was in such a state.

Talon had kissed her.

The mere thought has caused the pain to dull, a little. She lay frozen at the clarity of her thoughts and how she had let such an occurrence happen. Her fingers rose to her chapped lips, feeling embarrassed at how little she cared about appearances. They hardly helped in the battlefield.

Which remided her, they needed to leave early today. Groaning at the prospect of dragging her pain-stricken mind across the desert, there was little else the scout could do. With as much grace as she could muster, Quinn pushed herself off the wonderful beddings. The strength of the headaches intensified; she cursed out at the onslaught.

"Quinn?" A gentle voice called out, causing her gaze to fall on the entryway. Dalal held a steaming cup, a sheepish look on her face. Valor appraised the child, his tone welcoming. "Dalal? Come in." The desert child smiled at the scout, shuffling towards the cot. With caution, she transferred the steaming drink into Quinn's tired hands.

"Teva told me you'll need this." She beamed at accomplishing her task. The scout eyed the caramel colored liquid but she couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped her lips at the scent. It was heavenly, enough to ease the headache that burdened her morning. "It's a concoction the ladies brew after festivals."

Quinn sipped her drink, and could not help grimacing at the atrocious taste. Dalal's bell-like laughter was a soothing balm to the experience, "It tastes bad because it's good for you."

"Do you have any idea what it's made of?" The Demacian was too reluctant to gulp any more of the concoction down.

"Karam said that it's made out of the cacti and desert sages they harvest." Dalal bent down to pet Valor who looked quite smug at the scout's predicament. "Teva told me not to let you out unless you finish all of it."

"All of it?!"

"All of it." Dalal stood her ground as Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. There was just no way out of it. With as much finesse as she could muster, she gulped down the mug. The hot liquid scalded her tongue but it was better than slowly sipping the concoction. She'll need some water to wash the taste away.

"Good. You drank all of it." Teva's deadpan voice emerged from the entryway. Quinn had jolted in shock, almost dropping the container. He looked quite disheveled, a stark contrast from yesterday. "The headache should go soon. You need to hurry."

"Hurry? Is Talo-Talim ready already?" The headache was slowly receding but it wasn't enough of an excuse to almost slip his real name. An odd expression crossed his eyes but he schooled his features in a was looking at Teva and Quinn, a concerned look on her face.

"Just hurry. I'll leave Dalal to help you." Without further ado, Teva disappeared behind the flap. Valor made a quick exit of the shack, leaving Quinn in Dalal's capable hands. She was to hurry; noting how Teva had left the question unanswered.

"I brought some warm water for you." Dalal meekly spoke and ushered to the basin by the table. She didn't notice that earlier, or maybe it was due to the atrocious headache. It was gone, thankful for the concoction. She was thankful for Teva's quick thinking or was it a product of his ability? "Thank you Dalal, I'll clean myself up."

"I'll help you wash your back." The youth chirped, eager to be of assistance. Quinn flushed scarlet at the suggestion. Only Talon had done the act, and she in return. She felt a little self-conscious at letting someone see how scarred her body was.

"No need to worry, I can do it."

"It's all right. There's no need to hide." Dalal's voice was comforting. Quinn turned to the warm set of green eyes, "It's all right."

The words were comforting, yes, it's all right Quinn. It's all right for women to scar, for soldiers to live with wounds of their battles. It was all right to be broken.

"All right but I'll clean myself first before you wash my back. Okay?" The desert child nodded and exited the little shack.

Quinn made quick work of the light shift she wore; tugging on the fabric off her body. She dragged the washcloth over her body, relishing the sensation of cool water on her dry skin. She wiped the dirt and saliva from her face, embarrassed at the state she had been when she woke up. She dunked her head unto the basin, appreciating the trickling liquid on her scalp. A spare cloth was folded nearby and she wrapped her hair in the material.

Her golden eyes focused on the scars on her abdomen, slated around in gray lines. Her calloused fingers traced on the ones inflicted from Noxus. "It's okay now. You can come in." She spoke loudly, letting the young girl back in. There was silence as she worked but Quinn could tell how the eyes bore on her back. She could almost feel each caress the emerald irises gave on each scar. Tanned hands made efficient work on her back before she exited with the half-empty wash basin.

The marksman turned to the folded clothes upon the table, appreciating in a familiar set of weapons and accessories. She shimmied into the her clothing, delighted in the familiar touch of her traveling clothes on her skin. She strapped what little armor was left unto her body, adjusting the fit on her much slimmer physique. The travel was harsh on her body but it was too late to go back now.

She hefted her heavy pack onto her back, grunting at the weight of her necessities back on her shoulders. She tapped on her boots, adjusting her feet within its confines. She needed all the comfort it can give in the upcoming journey.

At last she clasped the belt along her chest, fixing the quiver to her back. The weight of her crossbow was enough to get her started for the journey. She will miss this comfortable peace, this solitude once they trek the dunes.

She shook her purple tresses; there was no need to hold to depressing thoughts at the start of a journey. Valor called for her from outside the shack and she quickly stepped out. Men were assembled dressed in flowing clothing, to hide from the sun's onslaught perhaps. They held on to some odd creature, its two humps an odd place to situate in.

"They're called camels." Teva's voice came from her side. He was dressed in the same manner, numerous layers of brown and cream. He was to ride with her today.

"You're coming with us?" He had expected her astonished tone as he merely climbed on top of the camel. He held out his hand towards her, there was some space left for a second rider," Yes, now, quickly. We need to make haste if we catch up to him."

"Him?"

"Talim."

He left her.

That was something she had expected from the Noxian but, not after what had happened. She felt herself break a little inside, betrayed by someone she had trusted. He must have his reasons but it was an insult to leave without even a goodbye. He never owed her anything but she owed him her life, twice and more. She couldn't help not repaying that debt, couldn't live living her second life without repaying her savior. With renewed vigor, she clasped Teva's outstretched hand as she ascended to her seat.

The men around them mounted their camels and began to steer out of the village. Women waved colorful strips of cloth, those identical to the ones wrapped around the rider's wrists. Some of the women were sobbing, some others held grateful smiles. She would have to ask that but now, Teva was keen on making each step as quick as possible.

…

It was a little over an hour since they journey out of the village. The sun was now at its highest peak, burning so brightly in a cloudless sky. Valor perched on her aching arm as Quinn drank water from her canteen. She was covered in earthen colored fabrics, warding off as much of the heat as possible.

The older men had followed a set of footsteps but they were wiped away by the winds. What was he doing? Teva hardly spoke a word since they left, he was shifting in his seat. From her peripheral vision, the youth was busy scouring the sands.

"Teva," she was eager to break the silence, "why did you come with us?"

"I can't rid the visions. They usually do when they've accomplished it's path but, " He roved the horizon with his bi-colored eyes, "they keep repeating. It doesn't move forward and you need to be there." He steered the camel forward, the Demacian noticed a few disruptions on this path.

"He passed by here." She pointed to the cactus that lost its flowers, they had been told it held some medicinal properties. "Why Teva?"

"I can't tell you. Just that he'll need you." He spoke with such conviction, she could not doubt him. "It doesn't stop unless we find him." Was it revolving the missing general? Perhaps that was the case. But what was her role in this little vision? Talon had been adamant on leaving her behind, her purpose long expired.

But, she couldn't just abandon him now; not when she had already ran across the continent to aid him in chasing a man who left a fading trail. Not when she had relinquished the promise of peace to run amok in the wilderness and decorate her body with scars of their struggles. No, she couldn't just stop now that she was in the middle of the quicksand.

She couldn't stop now if she wanted to, she had no power over what she felt.

She clasped on the armor around her wrist; why of all the men did it have to be him? Teva's own words were not comforting, he needed her. No matter how many times he had told her to stay put, Talon had needed her somewhere in the future. Dire enough to put the calm desert boy into a panic.

"We're here." Teva's voice broke her string of thoughts. The desertmen dropped from their mounts as they gossiped on the life this area once had. Valor hopped off her bracer, finding a cooler perch atop an abandoned home. The youth held a solemn look at the empty homes."This was once a plentiful village but years later, the well dried up."

Empty buildings stood in silence, doors off their hinges and open windows once reflecting warm candle lights. Teva slowly dismounted, spreading a cloud of dust when he landed. He held out his hand to her, ever the gentleman and Quinn dropped off the tall mount.

Bones lay in the sand; tales of beasts roaming in the area did little to calm the beating of her heart. Why did they make a stop here? The elder men approached them, their eyes focused on Teva. They spoke in their dialect, an odd rise and dips of their accent. Teva was quick to answer pointing to a far corner in the ghost town.

They nodded and took out bag from the pouches strapped to their camels. "Where are they going?"

"We'll need to gather some carapaces, it's good fuel." He gestured towards the abandoned structures, standing in the absence of man. "We have a different path to go from here." He proceeded to walk away from the path he had previously gestured. The soft gusts of the desert wind tug their layered cloaks around.

Valor took flight, keeping close eyes on them despite the near-absence of life in the area. There was so little noise in here, a sort of emptiness that had the Demacian choking in silence. Teva wove around the debris, so sure of the goal he was looking for.

"Have you been here before Teva?"

"Only in dreams."

"Do you come here often?"

"I try not to." He pauses, eyes clouding with a sense of fear. Sometimes she forgets how much a curse his gift was. "His voice reaches me here." He shakes his head, clearing the unnecessary thoughts.

"His voice?" It was odd to hear of voices in one's mind, unless they are mad. Teva was not mad. He was too smart for his own good, yes, but never mad. The desert child continued onward, albeit on a faster pace. The youth lead to a collapsed section of the houses, ducking under a collapsed beam. He turned back to her, urging her to follow the path despite the difficulty. Where was he taking them? She couldn't help wonder but she trusted Teva; he'd been here before.

Quinn's skillful eyes could pick out the small marks of a passerby. The unnatural angle that the beam fell, most likely pushed aside or the disturbance on the path of sand, with its uneven spattering of the golden particles. Someone had passed by here and she could not help the anticipation of seeing this particularindividual. Despite the sudden thought, Quinn could not help but fall back on the conversation they had. "Is this a man from your village?"

"No, an odd man. A man whose voice is calling me to the void." His voice is a whisper, a slight shudder to his frame. The marksman took it as a cue to cease her inquisition.

The foreseer pushes a beam up, letting the scout squeeze herself through the opening. They walked up to the edge of the walkway, surprised to see that the path ended by a ledge. There was a narrow walkway in front of them, leading up to a quaint looking house. It almost felt like crawling into a dungeon, except this one had more debris than a promise of treasure.

The pair jumped down the ledge, the young man having some difficulty with landing. "This is an odd place to be," Quinn muttered, her eyes studying the high cave faces that stood atop them. "It used to be a stock house for the village but it was also raided by the stragglers." Teva stopped in his tracks as he appraised the house half-buried in rocks and rotting wood.

"Men hide in the most desolate places if they do not want to be found." He spoke loudly, a tone that beckoned something from inside. Quinn was alert, her eyes focused on the broken entrance of the abode.

"A youth should not look for something that does not want to be found." A figure stepped into the dim lighting of the house's interior. His reply was acrid, a voice she knew well.

The archer waited for the individual to step out of the shadows. She almost forgot how well he blended into them. Deep down she knew his tracks, she had followed them previously. It was foolish of her to play the guessing game when a name was already on her lips. It was not like him to leave such blatant tracks despite hiding this far off in the desert. How early had he left the village to end up hiding himself in the deep recesses of this abandoned stock house?

The assassin let out a disgruntled sigh; exiting the decaying house to appraise the newcomers. He had expected to be left in peace but here she was, clad in browns and cream. Gloved hands adjusted the fastenings of his clothing, annoyed by the restrictive nature of his hometown's clothing. He grumbled at the fittings, missing the loose fabrics of the desert village. Haphazardly he threw his pack to the ground in front of them, as if shooing them off with the display. It was not effective, not that he thought it would be.

He eyed the pair, they looked travel worn. She too was clad in the same cloak he had been offered with, a protection from the sun they said. His long tresses were tied in a tight ponytail, letting a few strands to frame his face. He had hoped his demeanor heightened the glare he threw at them.

"Was the message not clear enough, girl?" He lashed at her; he was tired from the journey and the cool solitary comfort this home provided had been a respite to simmer in his thoughts. He stalked towards them, a gait well-spoken of annoyance. "Was it not enough to bring you back and stall a day from finding the general?"

"It was not my intention to delay your quest any further. However, it was not part of the plan. Had we continued, we would die out before meeting your general." She stood her ground. Yes, it was her fault for delaying them but they would suffer under the torment of this terrain had they continued. He scoffed at her words, unsatisfied by her answer.

"Demacians waste time on words indeed. Why had I not killed you back then?" He asked himself, aggravation in his tone. His blade glinted in the light filtering from the opening. He was a few steps away from them; he could strike them easily if he wanted to. The Noxian twitched and lunged towards her.

Quinn pushed Teva behind her, her body falling back into the rhythm of a soldier. She took her crossbow out from her hip, relishing in the familiar weight of her weapon in hand. Valor shot forth from the sky, talons ready to pierce the Noxian. The assassin fended off the roc with a skillful blade arm, chuckling at the annoyance that radiated from the creature. "Petty. You ask your bird to attack me in spite."

Fury burned in her golden irises and she ducked at his attack, her bow aimed at his chest. She pulled on the trigger but his hand swiped the weapon out of the way. She fell out of balance, falling backwards. His hand reached out towards her, a gloved hand aimed to strangle the life out of her.

Not here, not too soon. She strengthened her resolve. "What purpose is this conflict?" She murmured, swiping her leg towards his hip. He jumped over her limb, landing on his feet while she recovered. He chuckled darkly, "Do Demacians and Noxians have a need for a reason to pass on conflict? Are we not broods of war against one another?"

He trailed his fingertip along the blade, "I have expressed my sentiments already, girl. You are more nuisance than necessity." He glared at her, a certain emotion in the sepia eyes made her confused, "I have given you a chance, and yet you tail me around. Do you not know the meaning of 'burden'?"

His words hit the mark, she faltered. Valor uttered a cry, chastising her. Where was her allegiance? To what purpose had she followed him? Morals had molded her, guided her to be a fitting elite for the country she had been born in. She wanted to make amends with her savior, as despicable as he was now.

Teva watched in silence, his mind reeling with the visions from this town. There was too much tension in the area; a little more and it would attract the slumbering Xer'Sai burrowed beneath them. Heightened emotions had always been a treat to tracking human flesh for these creatures. Should they stay any longer, they would be swarmed. Bicolored eyes turned to the apprehensive man. Talim was a dangerous individual for stepping into such a nest.

"We need to leave this place." Teva spoke softly, he gripped onto Quinn's arm. The Demacian lowered her weapon, a concerned look came over her as she turned to the pale child. Valor descended on Teva's thickly covered shoulder, trying to console the teenager with his cries. It was not helping. He shook, visibly frightened at something.

"We won't be alone soon."

Talon relaxed his stance, a quick look of worry slithered through the mask of emotions but he wiped it off. "Leave then. Leave me where where I am not burdened by Demacians." He scoffed towards them. His words were meant to bruise her, maybe they did. She was indeed a burden, an object consistently getting in his way. It was odd to swallow the truth.

Teva noticed the change in demeanor from the woman, noting the way she looked away. He had to do something if they wanted to live. The younger male pushed the scout away from his path. He stalked towards Talon who had turned his back towards them.

With as much courage as he could muster, he punched the man square on the back. The assassin stumbled forward with a cry leaving his lips. The noise caused Quinn to look at the scene.

Valor was pleased at the turn of the tides; enjoying the way Teva stood straight to await the Noxian's reaction. It caught him off-guard. He glared down at the desertchild, staring back with the odd color of green and amethyst. "Tear me down and we will not bother you. That's an easy enough task, right?"

He gritted his teeth, annoyed by the turn of events. He pushed the boy farther, causing the roc to take fight. Raising the blade so fondly strapped to his arm, he guided it towards the lad. "Stop!" Quinn's loud cry echoed in the cave but it didn't stop the assassin. Valor tried to swoop down and blind the assassin but he would also wound Teva in the scuffle.

Talon stopped the sharp tip, an inch from the teen's jugular. Teva's face was placid but he could see the shaking on the boy. Stupid child. The boy had known what would happen and he felt more aggravated at the thought.

Teva was conniving but he had to give credit. The older man slid his blade to its holster, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Teva reminded him of his younger self a little too much.

Teva let out the breath he had been holding before turning to the shocked Quinn. "Let's get out of her quickly, the Xer'Sai will swarm us." As if on cue, the ground beneath them shook. The house already in stages of decay slowly collapsed.

"Quickly. The dark corners are never friendly in the desert." The foreteller ran past her, shifting the sands beneath their feet. Hefting his pack from the ground, Talon followed after the boy. He was aloof like the time she first stumbled upon him. The Noxian paused beside her, his eyes finding her own. She could only stare in wonder, a puzzle she needed to unravel once again.

…

They made out of the jungle of debris and rotten wood. Stray Xer'Sai skittered towards them but Quinn effortlessly shot them dead. Even Valor was quite eager to plunge his talons into the alien beings.

Teva sighed in relief, thanking his visions for the guide to handling the situation effortlessly. He ran off to the other riders, a headache bubbling from the images flowing in his head. This left the pair of travelers overlooking the churning dust and destroyed homes in silence.

Talon shifted the pack strapped on his back. The travel had brought him nothing, only more time spent to mull in his thoughts. He had hoped the solitary comfort could cleanse the emotions bubbling within him; it wasn't helpful. Here he was, back to square one, with the woman he had hoped to leave in a village.

Here she was, beside the man she had hoped to repay her life with. How was she to tell him? Thank you was hardly enough to repay the service he had done for her; it wasn't enough to merit the deeds, or the delay it caused. They were a few steps behind the general but in truth, they did not know if he was still in Shurima or gone.

With a petulant sigh, she faced the man in her vicinity. He lazily turned his gaze to her, eyes bearing as much animosity as he could muster. Where was the annoyance that he had felt during morning? It was a shallow emotion to hold on to but was it not this same emotion that had fueled each step he took in the heat?

True, her value was nil. Quinn had lost her worth in his eyes; information was no longer a necessity as they were walking blind. She ran her fingers along the blue plumage of her favorite companion, calming the roc lest he shot towards the man.

What would he lose if he had her around? Time, perhaps, but had she not proved her worth by gathering information until now? She felt a little useless, discarded like a used toy to the most unfortunate souls.

"Why did you leave?"

"Do I have to answer you?" He grumbled, dropping his pack to the ground. The dust dispersed around them, annoyance flashing in his eyes. He was never used to explaining his actions, it was awkward. A man so used to keeping everything to himself, it was a thorn in the side. He should have never let her come from the start but that also meant missing out on the information and the opportunities the Demacian flag had provided him until now.

"Have I not emphasized that your assistance is no longer needed?" He let the annoyance seep in each word, rolling his shoulder blades to ease the soreness, "I believed that Demacians always follow orders. You, apparently break the norm."

"And you Noxians discard of your little toys so easily, I see." She spoke acidly, the very frustration now bubbling inside of her. "I have dragged myself across the continent to assist you."

"Of your own volition." He added. Yes, it was true. She cursed softly, wondering how little she could do to turn the tides. She had followed him, part in curiosity of the little quest and part to understand the emotions he invoked from her. It was a selfish act.

He raked his fingernails along his scalp, eyes focused on the downtrodden marksman clutching to the bird perched on her arm. She looked so small, so fragile, and so human. Unlike the usual Demacians had crossed his blades with, she was one who always changed her mask. So inconsistent in her emotions, even her intentions were quite obvious.

He knew, he knew quite a long time ago but he wanted to hear it, let a Demacian admit it. "Why do you insist on following me? To what purpose do you gain on trailing an assassin?" She looked up to him, good. She looked sideways, anywhere, a flush on her cheeks like a maiden caught in the act. She was no maiden, no soft spoken lady or a lass to be shielded from the cruelties of the world.

She was a soldier, much like he, expendable in the atrocities of war.

"Does it excite you to stalk a killer? Will the Wings of Demacia enjoy the taste of justice once you've shot your arrows through me?" He took hold of her weapon arm, pressed the crossbow to his chest. This time he did not shy away from her, he let the pointed tip of an arrow poke him through the fabric of his clothing. "Tell me girl, what drives you to travel with a man so well acquainted to murder?"

She squared her emotions, she couldn't tell him. This was merely a temporary emotion, a momentary itch. A crack she can fix soon, she just needed to find the remedy to this illusion. "Does a scout need to explain herself to a killer?"

He smirked down at her, slipping the grip he had on her weapon. It fell to her side before falling to the ground. "You are still a Noxian, a threat to my country." She fiddled the dagger strapped to her hip, the familiar hilt in her palm.

She swung the blade towards him but he leaned back, a smirk on his features. "You may know how to play with a dagger but remember," He brandished his own set of daggers, an arsenal Quinn was hardly acquainted with; "a skillful killer knows how to make his victims sing with it."

She scoffed at his words, sheathing the dagger back in its place. The Demacian stepped away from him, plucking her crossbow from the sands by their feet. She will still tail him, unfortunately, not for her emotions but for the plausible crisis this man can cause. No matter what Teva told her, he was an abomination. His earlier display was enough to tell her that.

She took a few steps away from him, "Girl." The Demacian paused, her eyes towards the man who held a smirking face. "Stop dawdling in drunken dreams."

Quinn glared at the atrocity of this man and proceeded to walk away but this time her heart felt much, much heavier.

Author's Note:

EDIT: I revised the latter part because it never worked well with me, even if I've rewritten it for more than five times. On the ride home, I kept on beating myself for how stupid the ending for this chapter was. I honestly went to the part of deleting the chapter due to how unhappy I was since it never settled down with me.

First and Foremost, I'm really sorry for the delay. I was not really in the mood to write much of the current chapter due to being in a slump. I've also rewritten the entire thing since it didn't feel good with me.

I wanted to put a reluctant Talon, someone who was brought up to live to his duties. I like to think that there's a broken child inside Talon; someone who has realized they can never have what they want. If you think that Talon was a little out of character, please don't hesitate to comment. I really appreciate constructive feedback.

Side note: Thank you Ed Sheeran for motivation! If you're wondering what song I was listening to, Photograph by Ed Sheeran. XD