On a good day Quinn was charming, on a rainy day she could be mistaken for polite, but on a sleepless day and night she was an absolute terror.
"Open the fucking gate, you goblin."
"That's not how you ask for a favor. Who did you learn your manners from?" The door swung open regardless. "Willump and-Avarosa on a broomstick!"
"Not quite, but a close second. Oh Christ, you brought your sasquatch. I don't have time for this. Move, kid, we can't get caught for obvious reasons." Quinn pushed past the young boy who had answered her summons. His eyes and mouth had frozen in the shape of an 'O'. "Don't stare, it's rude. Where's your manners?" The ragtag group following the huntress were not one of the city's usual guests: Bristle, Sejuani!-scary!-, and a dark lady.
"If you breathe a word about us being here, Valor's shadow will be the last thing you see. Got it, Nunu?"
He nodded and signaled Willump to close the gate.
"Wait," Quinn waved her arm for the door to remain open. "Bristle, you're staying outside. You're too big, too noticeable. Illaoi, you're carrying Sejuani from here. Look, shut up, Nunu, I know I'm being rude." She led the 2,000 pound boar back outside and gave him a smack on his rump. He went without a fuss, evidently too tired to gore her. "Close it."
Willump, completely unfazed by the nighttime visitors, gladly obliged.
"Get on and go back to bed." Quinn half pushed half threw Nunu onto the broad back of his yeti. The boy got over his initial shock and wriggled out of her grasp.
"Back to bed? Who said I was asleep? I'm 8 and my bed time is whenever I want it to be," Nunu stood waist high to Quinn in his pajamas. His little feet were outfitted with slippers and the unbuttoned tails of his coat flapped merrily beside him. "Plus I let you in, so you better-"
"Shut up, shut up, keep your voice down. I'll explain later. Now go."
"Fine." He poorly stifled a yawn. "Let's make tracks." In the light of the kerosene lamps, Nunu and Willump did as they were told.
"A friend?" Illaoi watched Quinn kick snow over their footprints. Valor surveyed her work with mild amusement and offered a half hearted wing to help mask their arrival.
"Something like that. This way."
They crossed a wooden gangway spanning the frozen canal then took a narrow passage between two buildings. Quinn kept the three of them in the shadows as much as she could. Their goal, she had explained, was to slip into Ashe's kingdom undetected, head for the west end, and pay a visit to one of Quinn's old friends.
"She owes me a favor." Quinn replied to Illaoi's impassive expression. "We're only few blocks away."
The 20 minute walk was nothing in comparison to the death march Illaoi had led them on 22 hours prior. After their encounter with Kindred, Illaoi had assumed leadership and under her strict supervision they walked the grueling distance between what was once Winter's Claw and Frostheld, Ashe's kingdom. Quinn's eyes were ringed with exhaustion and she could barely keep her eyes open through the whole ordeal, but 'helpful' smacks from Illaoi's god kept her awake... and slightly irritated.
"Walk quickly." They were now in the deep shadow of the castle. It rose tall and majestic like the mountains around it. The Freljord could not have designed it better if it tried. The hands that had built this magnificent castle were long dead, though there were some creatures and magics old enough to recall the first stone being laid all those years ago. No guards stood in the outer courtyard as a symbol of open trust the queen granted her people.
From the brief description Quinn had given of the sisters' power struggle, the priestess assumed Sejuani had never seen the crowning work of Avarosa's hands. It was too bad she was not able to see it now either. The woman in her arms was growing heavy, a sure sign that Illaoi's indefatigable spirit was both admirable and woefully human. Sejuani's skin was deathly pale in contrast to the bloodied clothes she wore. Kindred may have forfeited its chance to claim her life, but it did not take that defeat lightly. Illaoi was almost certain the spirits were dogging their steps.
The shadow of the citadel fell behind them. With their cover gone, Quinn picked up her heels and led them down another side street. The only sounds peppering the air were the merry laughs of men and women drinking in the warm company of friends. It was well past midnight, so the chances of being noticed by a sober pair of eyes were slim.
Their short journey through Frostheld ended at the doorstep of a rather unremarkable building. They had passed shops on either side of the street, all of which were labeled according to what purpose they served: leather working, shoe making, tailoring. However, as they progressed the stone structures had become more spread out until there was only one building left. In the light of Illaoi's relic the sign read 'Apothecary' in black letters.
Quinn wasted no time in second guessing whether or not the occupant was awake. Just as she was about to knock, the door swung open and Soraka greeted the trio with a dark scowl.
"What have you done?"
"Hello to you too."
The kitchen was not where Illaoi assumed a hospital to be. Jars of all sizes were strewn across the table in no particular order: some were full of viscous liquids while others held foul smelling powders and leaves. To an untrained eye, it appeared some sort of alchemy was going on under the guise of medicine.
Illaoi had little time to wonder if the apothecary was woman of the craft or cure because the argument was winding up again for another round.
Quinn stood with her back to Soraka and pretended to be absorbed in the mess on the table. Though her posture was nonchalant, her attitude reflected that of a coiled spring.
"I don't see what the big deal is," She picked a glass jar at random and brought it up to her nose. "Yuck. Why do you do this to yourself?" She turned and held the jar out for Soraka to see.
"Why have you done this?" The jar was ignored. Soraka was too busy knotting and unknotting her hands to take notice of Quinn. She walked the length of the room, pausing every once and a while to rub the back of her hands before resuming her fevered pace. "Why Quinn? You know I-" She let out an angry snort. "I can't just leave someone to die. But this?! Why?"
In the light of the raging fireplace, Sejuani lay deathlike on a bed tucked into the corner. Ice still clung to her clothes and eyelashes; she was so deathly still. Frostbite had turned her fingertips and earlobes black. For those familiar with Freljord's nasty bite they knew there was no medicine that could reverse such profound damage. She was too far gone, even for a lowly apothecary.
"Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods," the healer repeated over and over again. The longer she paced the further the creases in her forehead deepened.
"I hate to say it-" Quinn began.
"Then don't. I know what you're going to-"
"You owe me, Soraka. I look out for Warwick and you help me when I need it. And right now, I really do."
"This- THIS- isn't the same! Don't you know whose kingdom you're in? Who your friends are? She's killed people, Quinn! She doesn't belong."
"I've killed people! Is that how you feel about me?"
Silence fell over the room.
"No... I didn't mean to say that." Soraka looked as if she had been grievously wounded. It was obvious to the other two that she recognized her faux pas, but the words could not be taken back. "Even if I wanted to, I can't help you. She's too far gone for what I have to offer."
"That's not true!" Valor lost his perch on Quinn's shoulder. She cut off Soraka's path by inserting herself as a roadblock. "I know what you can do. You've done so much, why stop? For this shitty town? For people that don't care? They'll never like you, Raka. They're too set in their own ways. Whether you heal people with herbs or magic, they'll never see past your horn or your skin."
"You don't understand. I am here to right wrongs, just like you. My goal is to heal and protect; I am on my path. If these people can't accept my form of magic healing, then I will set aside my differences to help them."
"You've got some pretty twisted ideals, you know that? I'm asking a lot from you because you're the only healer I know. This stuff is worthless," here Quinn gestured to the table. "You have magic. Use it."
"That's not your choice to make."
"So be it."
Just like that the fight was gone from Quinn. Whatever adrenaline had kept her awake for the past 30 hours had finally been bled dry.
"There's extra beds and a fire in the other room. Drink this, both of you, before you go to sleep." Soraka gave them each a phial of red liquid as they passed her. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch Quinn, to somehow reverse whatever extra damage she was inflicting, but there was no time for that now. Someone else was counting on her.
Soraka locked the door, rolled up her sleeves, and began to channel magic.
That night Illaoi, Sejuani, and Quinn shared the same dream. Their addled minds had not found the opportunity to process through on their grueling hike; therefore, it took this valuable time to recount the event in detail.
...
At first Quinn thought Illaoi was sent from the Southern Isles to kill Sejuani. She did not know the ways of the Nagakabouros for she was a woman of cunning and diplomacy, denying any god the satisfaction of praying and asking for anything in return. The only one who had her back was herself. Well, Valor too.
Seeing the smoldering spirit of Sejuani ripped from her body had truly been a sight to behold. The spirit looked healthy and unhurt by whoever had mauled her and left her for dead.
Illaoi, in contrast to Quinn, was unmoved by the sight of Sejuani's spirit. The proud warrior stood with her shoulders straight, chin high, and chest out. Ghostly blue flames licked her body as she stood in the presence of the priestess.
"Face Nagakabouros, she demands your tithe!"
Tentacles appeared in the snow, first a few, then a dozen, all swarming around the lifeless form of Sejuani. Then, like a finely tuned clock they began to take turns striking her. One caught her chest and an audible crack was heard.
Another one connected and Sejuani's arm broke like a brittle twig. Bristle roared from where he was battling his own tentacle nightmare. Nagakabouros was keeping him from reaching his master by latching onto his hind legs and applying great pressure if he moved.
"We learn from action. Move- or die."
Oh gods, Quinn was going to be sick. She didn't have a tangible relationship with the undomesticated woman, but this was too much.
Just when Illaoi thought her god had broken both body and spirit, a low moan came from the dried throat of Sejuani. Like a flower stubbornly pushing its way through the dredges of winter into the air of spring, she pried open her eyes and weakly blocked the next blow.
"Now you are learning!" Illaoi let loose a laugh. Sejuani caught a tentacle and used its momentum to get on her knees. Just then one to the right of her hit her in the back and she landed face first in the snow.
"Nagakabouros doesn't want you to kneel. She wants you to fight."
"Fuck. Your. God." Sejuani rose on a wobbly arm. An instant later it was almost cut out from under her by a fast moving tentacle. The princess caught herself before she could hit the ground again and managed to dodge an attack to her exposed back.
"Good, this is the lesson." The blue figure before the priestess wavered slightly. "You must earn your soul."
"Fuck. You." This time Sejuani made it to her feet. Her right arm hung limply by her side and new blood was beginning to ooze from old wounds. In total she looked like death walking. But she was in motion.
"What is it that drives you, child? Your people seek a worthy death. Mine, a worthy life."
Sejuani's cold, hate-filled eyes locked with Illaoi's.
"I will rule the Freljord."
"First you must take your spirit."
Tentacles continued to barrage the warrior from either side, but it was as if she no longer felt them. A few times she was knocked off her feet, but it did not stop her. Conquest was on her mind.
At last, Sejuani stepped into her soul. There was a rush of memories and emotions all at once- the most recent being the destruction of Winter's Claw. It was like a claw ravaging the gaping hole in her chest, so painful and raw. The pain reshaped itself into a ball of anger. With it she could avenge the death of her people.
"I will rule the Freljord." Sejuani promised.
Seconds later she collapsed and did not wake again.
"Ha, ha! Nagakabouros accepts your tithe."
a/n: I had a blast writing the opening to this chapter. Quinn is 2sassy4me :'D