Caparison n. 1a: an ornamental covering for a horse, b: decorative trappings and harness, 2: rich clothing: adornment
Quinn tugged at the collar of her dress uniform. Despite the fact that it was, if anything, fewer layers than she usually wore. Still, the fabric was scratchy, the collar dug into her neck, and she felt like a turkey dressed for dinner.
Valor seemed to be fairing a little better, though he seemed to be disoriented by all this. Not that she could blame him.
"All this" was her first League function. The great hall had been decked out in all manner of flowers to highlight the season. They trailed around the columns, filled out massive arrangements as large as the average tree, and hung from the ceiling in carefully arranged garlands.
It was disconcerting. Nature was not so neat or forced. Why these people couldn't just go outside instead of creating such macabre displays of murdered vegetation?
And all these people. There was barely room to move, or breathe. And so many of them wanted to talk to her, despite that she had absolutely nothing to say to them. Her original plan, of hiding behind some of the more outgoing Demacian champions, had quickly been dashed as they had been one by one spirited away. The overly powdered city folk wore clothes loudly proclaiming their names and rank, talking loudly and adding to the cacophony while adding nothing to the world at large.
Xin had already claimed his spot as the prince's tight-lipped companions, the Crownguard siblings juggled half a dozen hangers-on easily, and Fiora verbally whipped some poor boy who had had the misfortune to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Perhaps the nobles were taught such things as part of their upbringing.
Vayne, as usual, was nowhere to be found. Right now, Quinn wished she could join the Night Hunter wherever she had disappeared to.
After ending yet another, stilted conversation in a stretching silence and her conversation partners awkwardly excusing themselves, she escaped the stifling room to the blessed cool of the balcony. Valor shifted on her arm, spreading his wings to their full impressive span for the first time that evening.
"You fled out here too?"
Quinn jumped, Valor flapping wildly on her arm before jumping to the stability of the overly ornate railing. Heart still racing, she looked around wildly, seeing nothing until she followed Valor's gaze upward.
Shyvana crouched on the overhanging rooftop, ten feet above her, eyes dark. She had apparently harbored similar thoughts about the dress uniform, which hung open to the waist. If the half dragon felt a chill from her torso only being separated from the night air by a dark undershirt, she gave no sign.
Quinn relaxed. "Not comfortable at these things either?"
She could see Shyvana tense, her eyes flaring red. "And what does that mean? Just because I grew up around dragons doesn't mean I can't handle being around people!"
She had the body language of a trapped animal. Quinn relaxed her own, replaying calmly.
"I meant I find these things awkward too."
"Oh." Even in the partial darkness, Quinn could see her flush purple.
Quinn could relate to that. Every conversation she had inside had had at least one moment light that.
"Come down and joined me," she called. "You know none of them in there are dressed warmly enough to disturb us."
Shyvana eyes had calmed by the time she leapt down beside her. Valor didn't even flinch, apparently used to the woman's presence. She leaned against the railing, staring out over the sprawling silent forest.
"At least when dragons meant you harm, they were honest about it."
"Tell me about it," Quinn suggested.
And Shyvana complied.