Chapter 19: Playing with Knives
Riven sat alone at the cafeteria table, eating her food by herself. Around her, champions, summoners, and Institute staff alike milled about the numerous tables of the cafeteria. The air buzzed with conversation, and with the clatter of plates and silverware. Without even looking up, Riven could hear several other champions talking loudly with one another or otherwise socializing: in the middle of the cafeteria, Jax and Gragas were having a drinking contest, surrounded by a cheering crowd; Jayce and Vi sat together in another corner, deep in hushed conversation, blueprints and schematics scattered on the table before them; Draven stood poised atop another table, his axes spinning at his sides for reasons unknown to Riven.
Just another day in the League, she thought to herself with a small smile. There was never a dull day in the Institute.
She had chosen instead to sit in one of the blessedly empty and hidden tables that were tucked away into the various alcoves of the cafeteria. It was empty before her as she picked at her food, twirling her fork between her fingers.
She was by herself, but not that she minded; she was used to solitude, and actually preferred it much of the time. It was an attitude she had acquired after years of wandering Valoran alone. Although she enjoyed Irelia's company – and the companionship of others like Lee and Karma – some days she just needed to be alone. Today was one of those days.
After her panic attack in the bathroom, she had rushed out of her room, feeling claustrophobic and desperate for air – after putting on clothes, of course. She had wandered under the dark night sky for several hours – so long, in fact, that when she at last returned to her room, the sun had risen once more. It seemed barely a minute that she had closed her eyes before she was awoken by the sound of a knock at her door.
When she had gotten up from her uneasy sleep once more, it had been to the news of an imminent match that she ended up losing anyways. She had fought sloppily and poorly, a byproduct of the sleeplessness that plagued her. Furious with herself, she had stormed past her teammates without saying a word and had headed to the cafeteria, intent on being alone.
And now she was alone in the cafeteria with nothing more than her sword lying on the chair beside her. Her eyes trailed over the broken form of her sword, and she thought of how it had once looked.
It's all I have left of Noxus… it's all I have left of my past self… and even it's broken.
Her arms gave a dull throb and she closed her eyes momentarily against the sting. When she opened them again, there was an unfortunately familiar red-haired woman sitting in the chair in front of her.
She wore a short leather sweater that fell only to her shoulders, doing nothing to cover her exposed midriff. There were countless knives dangling from her person, and from experience, Riven knew there would countless more hidden out of sight. Her black leather pants were tight around her legs and the rest of her shapely figure in a way Riven knew could only distract men. Katarina eyed her with amusement, wearing a slight smirk on her face. Leaning back in the chair, she swung her feet onto the table. Her boots fell onto the tabletop with a dull crash, sending silverware clattering to the floor. She leaned back with her hands behind her head, not saying a word.
Riven returned her silent gaze with an icy glare of her own. Although she did not dislike the red-headed assassin as much as she did Draven, her appearance did not usual signal good things to come. She had expected the woman to say something, but Katarina remained quiet. Slowly, her gaze shifted from Riven and her eyes rolled around lazily the room, seemingly disinterested. Riven remained steadfastly tight-lipped, not wanting to ask her what she was here for. She crossed her arms, looking away but keeping Katarina on the edge of her vision. Gradually, however, her curiosity got the best of her, and she opened her mouth to speak.
"What do you want, Katarina?" she asked, half-annoyed, half-weary.
"Nothing," said the assassin shortly.
Riven snorted. "That'd be a first. Come on, spit it out. I don't want to be here all afternoon waiting for you to talk."
Katarina was quiet for a moment longer, then: "I didn't know you had a thing for Ionians, Riven."
"What are you talking about?"
"Irelia, obviously. Your little date with her last night." Katarina raised an eyebrow. "To be honest, I hadn't pegged you for a lesbian." She narrowed her eyes at Riven. "Well, maybe a little," she added, relenting.
Riven colored slightly and her hands clenched momentarily into fists. Draven, that bastard. I should have known. She gave an internal groan. This is going to be so embarrassing to clear up.
"Draven really can't keep his mouth shut, can he?" said Riven with a sigh, rubbing her temples with a free hand.
"No, he can't," said Katarina with a shrug. "But that's his-," she stopped suddenly, and her feet fell to the floor as she leaned forward to look at Riven with renewed interest. "Wait, what the hell? So it's true? You and Irelia?"
"Of course not, Katarina. I like men. It was just a girl's night out."
Katarina's face fell in disappointment, and she leaned back her chair once more, propping her feet back onto the table. "Oh. I thought as much."
Riven looked at her in surprise. "You believe me? Just like that?"
Katarina shrugged again. "You don't really have a reason to lie, so I don't see why not."
"You don't think I'd lie to feel less embarrassed?"
"Why would you care about what others think of you? That's not the Riven I know."
Riven opened and closed her mouth wordlessly, slightly taken aback. She had not expected a compliment – even a pseudo one – from Katarina.
"Uh… thanks?" she said uncertainly. "I guess?"
"Any time, Riven," said Katarina with a vicious smile. She stood slowly, brushing her hands over her leather pants. "Listen, Riven," she continued, "I know you don't care much what others think of you, especially other Noxians. And I don't really care either, but let me warn you: stay away from Ionians. They might not seem like dangerous people, but they can be more ruthless than Noxians sometimes."
"I know that," said Riven stiffly. "I was the one who had to face them in the invasion, and I do not forget easily." She still remembered the brutal tactics that the Ionians had employed in the defense of their island homeland.
At least they fought head-on like Noxus should have, instead of hiding behind war machines, she added mentally.
"Fair enough. You may not be a Noxian anymore, but that doesn't mean that some people still don't see you as one. So I don't want you going around giving Noxus a bad name. It's not like I care about what you do, but stay away from Ionians. Unless you want to hurt yourself."
"I could say the same about Demacians," said Riven coldly, "Especially Captains of the Dauntless Vanguard."
Two faint spots of pink appeared high on Katarina's cheeks, and her lips pressed into a hard line. Slowly, however, her face grew rueful, and she smiled dangerously "I'll keep that in mind, Riven."
She turned to leave, moving like a cat through the crowd. Riven watched her go, keeping Katarina's red hair in sight until she left the cafeteria. When she had disappeared from sight, Riven sat back in her chair with a sigh, rubbing her eyes wearily.
"Well, that was unexpected," she muttered aloud to herself, bending down to pick up the fallen plates and silverware. She jumped slightly in surprise as she straightened; there was someone else sitting in the chair where Katarina had been. The young man was clothed almost completely in purple and blue, and had a hood pulled low over his face. His cloak, tipped with knives, fluttered gently over his chair. Talon regarded her with a stony face, his eyes only just visible under his hood.
"Riven," he said flatly.
"Talon," she replied curtly; like Katarina, she did not dislike Talon like she did Draven, but much like his "sister," his appearance almost never meant good intentions.
"I saw you were speaking with Katarina."
"I was. What does it matter to you?"
Talon ignored her sharp comment. "It doesn't. I just want you to know that I agree with her. If you continue to associate with Ionians, you may get hurt."
Riven laughed, unable to help herself. "I didn't know you were so caring, Talon. You shouldn't be; it doesn't suit you."
Talon scowled beneath his hood. "That's not what I meant. Regardless of whether you consider yourself a Noxian now, you were one once. And what you're doing is bad for appearances."
"Does it look like I care what any of you think?" she said harshly. "The Noxus you're talking about tried to kill me. Don't think I've forgotten that." But even as she spoke the words, Riven knew they were not true. She still loved Noxus. However, even she could see that it was as lost as she was. Without a purpose, neither could ever be strong again.
"I see," said Talon, standing noiselessly. "If that's how you're going to be, you should be even more careful. You don't know when you're going to wake up with a knife in your back."
"Is that a threat? Or a promise?"
"You decide."
"Then you better watch yourself as well. You don't when you might find a sword in your chest."
Riven returned the glare he gave her, and he stalked soundlessly away out the cafeteria. Riven waited until he had gone, then she slumped in her chair. She sighed, running a hand over her face.
What have I gotten myself into?