Knots
"Come and face me, butcher!"
It is the lake that was written on the prayer slip. Irelia still does not know why she feels such anger for this woman, this faceless woman. But it's thrilling.
"Noxian!"
Her blade carries her rocketing over the water, over the shoreline as her eyes scour the land for some sign of her target.
A fire
Her dismount is haphazard, the wet soil suck at her feet as though trying to hold her back.
"Riven!"
The moment the flat of the tent is lifted, steel strikes steel.
-undone-
"What do you have there, Irelia?"
She is a child, beaming up at her father with satisfaction.
The aged man smiles, gingerly picking up the dagger into his hands to examine it. A chuckle rumbles out of his chest. The edge is uneven, one side ground at a sharper angle than the other. He takes her hand and leads her back to the grinding wheel.
The afternoon passes with his hands teaching her how to bend the steel to her will.
-undone-
Irelia snaps back from the memory, instinctively parrying a thrust and putting some distance between her and her foe.
Sweat pours from the Noxian's brow, corrupted lungs straining to fuel her body with the oxygen it demands. They both bleed but it is only Riven whose movements are getting slower, her strikes more clumsy.
The blood on her weapon. The source of her vision?
She tries to recall, but nothing comes. Their weapons connect with the sound of grinding. Her vision crumbles away.
Remember
-undone-
There are too many, the gate has broken, the red swarms in. Streets become slick and littered with bodies.
Irelia's blade find yet another bloody sheath and another life. Her spine tingles whenever warmth wraps around the steel and feeds it the pulsing of a heart not her own.
But exhaustion has been settling into their bones, slowly, the line being push further and further back. The fact is plain and simple; there are just far too many.
"Ma'am, North gate has been overrun, South gate has already fallen back to the central temple." The soldier reports over the sound of fight and dying. For one who believes in reincarnation, she sneers at the fear in his voice.
A spear breaks through her guard and pierces her mail. Gritting her teeth, she skewers herself further to slice the throat of her attacker.
"We hold the line."
Irelia unceremoniously yanks it out and tosses it aside her blood pouring out the wound so refuses to acknowledge. She will protect them.
If they fall back, they'll have less ground to maneuver, like fish in a barrel for the melters to strike.
"But ma'am-"
She nearly runs her sword through the ally just to shut him up.
"We hold the line!"
She chokes, her blade sings for her.
-undone-
Riven can barely keep up now. Clothes stick to her body with sweat and blood. It's darker with a purple tint to it and smells of death.
Irelia lunges, still driven by the anger with no reason, frustration of not knowing, the need for more of her memories to come back. No other fight has made her feel so...so..
The captain expects her to parry, for another flash and surge into a vision. But she doesn't, Riven watches her with tired eyes as the blade buries itself into her stomach.
Time stills, no sound. Irelia can feel the warm pulse ripple through the steel.
-undone-
A shattered rose atop a field of ivory
Riven
Be kind of her when she stop wandering
-undone-
"How is it to finally feel alive again." The words are whispered against her cheek.
Irelia flinches back. Who is this woman?
A line of blood trickles down the corner of her chapped lips. With every breathe, she shutters, shivers, shakes against the blade impaling her.
She is breathing with her, reflex perhaps? But when was the last time she drew breath? They slow, the pulse slowing, the fullness of her chest ebbing away with it. It begins to rise up again.
Emptiness
Hollow
She doesn't move, can't move, as Riven pushes herself forward. The steel drives deeper still and yet the woman take one last step to she is almost flush with Irelia's body.
Lips slick with blood that stings her skin when they press against her own.
Something forgotten drums through her veins.
"Please." The word is croaked with a mouthful a blood spills out. She meets Riven's eyes, they full of pity despite the situation she is in, understanding. Does she know what happened to the famed captain?
"Stop wandering, Irelia."
Begging, pleading
It all comes flooding in, Irelia can remember.
Her heart remembers how to beat
Her lungs remember how to breathe
Her mouth wants to apologize
For the first time since her father died
Irelia cries
-undone-
Karma steps out from the treeline and onto the muddy shoreline. It is serene and peaceful much like the rest of the island now.
The campsite she finds stinks of sick blood.
Torn up soil and a pile of crimson stained rages outside the tent. A pot of water boils away over the fire.
There are bloody handprints on the flap of the tent as she goes to pull it back. Karma can't help but smile softly at the sight,
Beneath a worn blanket is a woman with a head of white hair, in the air the smell of something pungent and is an empty tin, a tea pot and a polished charm of a phoenix on the bedside table.
Karma pulls up the only stool in the tent and waits, watching the commander sleep peacefully.
And Irelia sleeping tucked under Riven's arm.
-undone-
Change comes slow and bloody. The winds carry the dust of the fallen into the mountains to rest.
A new general, a new High Command
The Du Couteau swears allegiance to her. A reunion, bitter, it is the last they see of the woman with the red hair.
-undone-
Bittering cold wind blows over their exposed faces, bullying its way through the seams of their winter coats. Winter nights in Noxus is not much quieter than day, the only difference is the lack of shouting in combat training and more grinding of magic driven machinery.
But the plaza that Irelia and Karma stand in is as still as he monument that towers over them.
Cast in plates of metal with a single drumming emerald rune in her sword, the Master General's stern face illuminated with a green glow against the black sky.
However, when they look up to the face, its eyes seem to soften in recognition. Perhaps it's just the trick of the light and a touch of wishful thinking.
Karma is aged now, her hair having turned a deep shade of grey. Decades of rebuilding, reforming, new relations and the overthrowing of Noxus former High command; a stressful life indeed but she hasn't had to live it alone.
The elder cups the hand of her old friend who hasn't aged a day and places a teacup of hot tea onto the mantle of the memorial.
Her fingers brush the snow off of the plaque.
Master General Riven
Commander of the Fury Company
Wanderer of Ionia
Honor to those who die with their ideals at heart
There is a line of Ionian inscribed at the bottom of it all. A mystery to many Noxian who do not read the language. Riven had insisted it before her death.
Be kind to her when she stops wandering
Karma squeezes the cold hand, receiving one for comfort.
It's been years, but it still stings as if it were yesterday.
-undone-
Irelia sits in the sunlight that shines too bright for her liking. The grass whispers its secrets to her, like a prayer to for maddeningly empty mind.
Two stakes jut out of the soil before her, nexus shards embedded in each of them.
Red prayer slips fluttering in the wind.
"Do you remember them?"
Irelia jerks at the voice, never had she been approached this far out of civilization. Her blade, however, lays in the grass, unfazed by the stranger. She does not recognize the voice nor the face, but a name comes to mind.
Leblanc
"Now and then." Something compels her to humor the woman.
But the answer today is no. She feels her chest ache, yearning for something but no memory of what once filled it. It's all numb when she wipes the tears away, emotionless when she chokes back the sobs.
Just emptiness
"Time doesn't make it easier."
The woman sounds sorrowful, voicing what Irelia feels.
A hand extends a cup of amber liquid.
Irelia accepts, it has no taste, not even a temperature. Only the steam tells her that it should be hot. She drinks it anyways.
"I loved someone once." She glances over, LeBlanc's eyes are downcast. "I still do." A soft smile.
"What happened?"
"She was growing old. I had told her what I was, she said she didn't care. One day, she was just so excited, her smile." A pause, it must've been a fond memory. "She told me she had a surprise, a way that would let her live forever with me."
Painted fingertips pull along the lip of white porcelain.
"She doesn't remember me. Dear Lissandra...The Freljord has not been kind to her."
None of it means anything to Irelia.
"What happens now." The question feels familiar on her tongue.
"We continue living, if you could call it that."
LeBlanc vanishes in an instant. In the grass lays a crisp envelope.
There is no seal, for some reason Irelia had expected there to be. The card inside slides out effortlessly.
"Karma"
"Riven"
Clear liquid drips from her chin onto the paper.
She doesn't feel anything
All she knows is that her tears are for the names on the cards, the names on the graves.
Who ever they were
-undone-
Mom used to tell me this tale when I was little just like you. See, I wasn't an 'indoors only' child. There wasn't a tree that was left untouched by me in a 5 mile radius of the house.
Pretty impressive if I do say so myself.
Anyways, she would sit me down after my long days of exploring and she'd start:
"Let me tell you the tale of the wanderer."
Even though I've heard it like a hundred time, I would still get excited and urge her on.
"There is a woman that travels in the forests of Pronsia. From Parona to the Southern Isles of Stenic. She is always seen wearing the armor of the ancestors. She never sleeps never eats, never breathes; simply walks across the island to no end.
Some call her a god, others think her a ghost. No one knows exactly where she came from or why she wanders the land."
She would end the tale telling me to be careful and not approach the Wanderer. Though she has never hurt anyone, the priests say it would be disrespectful to get in her way.
I used to think it some folktale just like the blood moon warriors. No one in the village has ever seen her, plus, you know how mom gets. It wasn't until I met the wanderer did I believe.
It was a winter day, the sky overcast and getting dark quickly. I found this hill near Phoenix Lake, the only hill of its size I have ever encountered out in the woods. It's a wonder I never noticed it before.
Course I climbed it.
To my surprise, there were two stakes just sticking out the ground. They looked as old as dirt but the nexus shards in each of them must've been the only things keeping them from crumbling to dust.
And she was the one who approached me.
"Riven and Karma."
She came from behind, seemingly out of the darkness. Startled the stars out of me it did. And just as mom said; she wore red Ionian armor with a mantle floating behind her head and some sort of blade by her side.
She had these wicked sharp eyes but when she looked at the sticks, they just got sad.
"Pardon?"
"Her name was Riven." She pointed to the left stake, "She was the commander of the Fury Company in Noxus."
Then she pointed to the right one.
"Her name was Karma, she was an elder of Ionia."
She sounded lost, like she was reading directions off a map.
No I know I should've been scared, especially when a famed spirit ghost person starts pointing at graves and naming them. But there was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to just hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright.
'Name's Zelos! What's yours?'
In hindsight, was a good thing I was a kid and my blunt introduction forgivable.
She looked at me funny, like she hadn't had a real conversation in her life before. Her eyes narrowing, thinking real hard.
'I am... Irelia, Captain of the Guard.'
It was then I noticed the blade thing by her side start swaying back and forth like a pup. It floated over to the graves and kinda just sat there, if weapons could look like they were sitting.
I wanted to ask her so many things but the forest was hard to navigate at night. I knew I had to start heading back home soon if I wanted to make it before nightfall.
'Can I meet you here tomorrow morning, Miss Irelia? I could bring my mom's homemade custard buns! Do you like custard buns? My mom makes the best ones.'
By the stars, she looked so confused. But she did crack a smile. Smallest little thing I've ever seen but she looked a bit rusty on the smiling thing so I let it slide.
'That would be nice.'
"What happened next? What happened next Ze-Ze?"
The young boy babbles excitedly, the covers slipping out from under his chin.
Zelos chuckles, pulling the sheet back up and tucking her little brother in.
"That's a tale for another night. You need to get to sleep."
"But Ze-Zeeee." He whines, trying to twist out from under the blanket.
"No buts." She kisses his forehead lightly, "How about I tell you the rest tomorrow morning over some of mom's custard buns?"
The child's face scrunches up and in the best impersonation of his sister he could muster, "That would be nice."
Zelos shakes her head and slides the stool back under the bedside table. The door is quietly shut behind her.
The night air is much like that of her first encounter with the Wanderer years ago, as her memory supplies. A lantern in one hand, a basket in the other. She finds the captain already seated in front of the graves up on the hill.
The woman reminds her so much of herself.
Irelia glances up at the sound of wicker resting on the grass. A white porcelain cup is set in front of her, hot tea filling it up.
"Zelos was my brother's name."
The Wanderer's eyes are fearful, her eyebrows drawn together. She struggles to put the memories in thought, thoughts into words. Cold fingers tug at the blades of grass around her.
"He…" She tries to hard to remember, "was a Sergeant in the Ionian military. He left to…"
Her hands rip the grass from the earth. Frustration bubbling in her chest. The blades beside her rattle on their own.
Zelos sets a hand on the trembling woman's shoulder. Comforting people was never her strong point.
"Shhh, it's alright, do not force yourself."
"I don't remember, can't remember. Like plumes of smoke, one glance and they disappear."
They sit in silence well into the night, nibbling away at custard buns and sipping hot tea from a lion teapot. She had hoped these things would help the captain remember.
"I feel empty when I travel. I see the people and feel nothing. Every time I see them, I do not remember any of their faces, the places I've been to." She pauses and looks up at Zelos. "And yet remember you."
Zelos stares back. A sad smile, now's a good time as any.
"Then perhaps it's time for you to stop wandering."
"What?"
The young woman doesn't answer, merely gesturing for the captain to stand beside her.
With a wave of her hand, the soil trembles and shifts. It parts down the front of each stake. Irelia watches impassively with a foreign thumping in her chest.
She hasn't felt her heart for centuries.
The soldier doesn't quite know what to expect. Through the ages, she would remember less and less about the names carved into the wood. At one point, they stop holding any meaning at all, just a set of characters on a stick impaled into the ground that her feet were drawn to.
Were they even graves?
Minutes pass, clumps of dirt move, fall and then finally come to a rest. She doesn't know the term for the tightness in her chest, the clenching of her throat, the urge to run away and forget it all.
Has this happened before?
An item rises up from each of the holes; a shattered sword that glow a dim green from the one marked 'Riven' and an ornate mantle much like her own from the grave marked 'Karma'.
Irelia's blade lifts her hand and brings it forward to touch the sword. Never had she ever wanted to do anything, but right now, she feels as though she needs to feel the surface of the broken blade.
And so she does
-undone-
Warmth
No sunlight, not from above
But a warmth from below.
There is some sort of steaming bun in her hand, warm to the touch. It smells sweet and familiar.
How did she get here?
Where was here?
Irelia begins to take in her surroundings. No longer at the hilltop, she stands in the middle of a crowded street. The chatter of people hurts her ears, the pushing of their bodies fueling panic in her chest. She begins to back away, the color lanterns above blurring into a storm of color.
It is not until she feels a squeeze does she realize her fingers are intertwined with another hand. It brings a wave of comfort.
"Hey, you spacing out on me again?"
That voice
Her eyes follow up the tan hand wrapped around her own, winding past the scores of scars and settling on the smiling face of a white haired woman. She gets lost examining the face; softhearted scarlet eyes, an old scar on the left edge of her jaw, they way her lips move as she is saying something.
Irelia sees this woman. She feels her hand, her heart beat, her lungs pulling in air. And yet…
She doesn't know who she is.
But she does feels the urge to press their lips together. She remembers the word for it.
A kiss
And so she does.
Their foreheads rest against each other's as they part, intrigued by the pink blooming across the woman's face. Something pleasant blooms across her own cheeks. The woman is quiet.
"Let's go you lovebirds, the fireworks are about to begin."
The captain turns to the voice she again only vaguely recognises. It is another woman, with dark hair and glowing dragon tattoos snaking up her arm. A tug of fondness pulls up the corners of her lips, a friend perhaps. Someone important at the very least.
The bun is filled with warm custard, smothering her tongue with an overpowering sweetness. She can't get enough it of it. Whoever is holding her hand kisses away the crumbs that are left behind.
She can't stop smiling
It feels nice.
They push through the crowd, she can begin to point out things she remembers. The wooden post with the carving of an owl, the central temple in the distance, the feeling of the scars on the mystery woman's back.
At some point, they make it to the roof of some building. The air is warm and alive with anticipation. There is a strong arm around her waist, wandering fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns onto her side. The emptiness is gone, the restlessness of her feet, longing for something she doesn't have a name for. She can't remember how she got here, but she no longer cares.
And so they sit like this, Irelia daring to describe the tingling as happiness ; nuzzling into the embrace of whoever this woman is.
She look at the woman, the world complete.
The urge to kiss her
And so she does
-undone-
Irelia's eyes slowly slide open, her back on the grass, the late noon sun beating heat down from above her.
Heat
She can feel the heat. Her mind and eyes search for a woman with the name of Zelos, finding none. Beside her her lay two relics from the graves. Yes? The soil looks undisturbed with greenery that ripples in the wind.
Between the two stakes is an envelope with a blank face on the front and black wax seal on the back. There is a lotus stamped into the ebony surface.
The paper tears
The lotus remains
A card slides out with elegant Ionian characters.
"You are welcome, Captain Irelia."
She gets the urge to smile
And so she does