Hello, new chapter everyone. ^^
Thanks for your review, I'm really happy.
shloop: you're right for the quotation mark. I fixed chapter 1, I hope it'll be ok. ^^

Chapter 2.

The Institute of War only had a single dining hall where everyone sat for lunch, champions and summoners alike. Numerous groups of small tables took all the space, with no established order, and if no rule settled the guests' placement, the champions usually choose to sit with the members of their own faction. Although the Institute was trying to encourage the creation of links between them, it was rare to see the various champions mix together, especially those from Noxus and Demacia. Of course, some exceptions still existed, going from table to table, following their moods, but they were rare.

When Quinn stepped into the dining hall with the Crowngard siblings, Valor flew off to perch in his favorite spot on the head of a statue by the demacian table. The three of them headed to the buffet where a few other champions were already helping themselves. Garen seized a plate and generously filled it with anything in view: omelet, potatoes and bacon, bread and cheese, while Lux went around the table to join Leona, causing Quinn to follow behind her. The three young women greeted warmly each other and began to choose their food while chatting. Well, Lux and Leona were talking while Quinn just listened absently, embarrassed by the feeling of an insistent gaze on her. She did not turn around to see who could look at her like that; sure she would only see a pair of hazel eyes she knew too well. Instead, she put some pancake on her plate, a little marmalade and a few grains of grapes before leaving Lux and Leona to join the demacian table.

Garen was already talking with Jarvan, establishing strategies for the game. The prince was not involved in their match, he had another one to attend later in the day, but he could not help imagining various means to crush the noxian. In addition to Talon, Quinn had learned that Darius and his brother, Draven, also attended the game. Jarvan could not help pushing Garen to crush his noxian alter-ego. But the two generals were equal in strength and the fight did not end in Demacia's favor as often as the prince would have liked.

Quinn sat down in an empty seat near Garen and listened the two men talk without disturbing them. She did not care about Jarvan's anti-noxian strategies. Looking at her plate in silence, she absentmindedly rolled a grape with her fork. She was not very hungry, but she could not tell what was cutting her appetite: the encounter with Talon, the game, or just Fiora and her snobbish behavior, sitting in front of her. Quinn was not one to hate anyone but certainly the duelist was in leading position in the list of the people she liked the least. Moreover, it seemed that she was not the only one avoiding the duelist. Fiora appeared to have fewer friends than her within the Institute.

Lux came to the table minutes later, sitting beside Quinn, and greeting everybody with her usual enthusiasm. On her tray, she had a steaming cup of tea, a bowl of yogurt to which she had added a handful of toasted cereal, a cup of fruit and two warm strawberry tarts.

"By the way, did you know?" She threw pouring some of her fruit in her yogurt. "Gragas organize a party in his tavern, tonight, to celebrate the new vintage of his famous Icewine."
The last party organized by the innkeeper, about a month earlier, would definitely stay in the Institute's legend due to its duration, the number of champions involved, and, especially, the number of empty barrels stored in front of the establishment the next day. Dissatisfied, Vessalya Kolmyre had been forced to cancel all matches for three days to let the party-goers time to recover.

"Don't talk about that," groaned Garen, "I still have a headache when I think about it."
It made the petite blonde laugh.

"You shouldn't have let Twisted Fate drag you in a drinking contest."
Garen snarled.

"It was worth it," said Lux with a beaming smile, "just to see Draven declare his eternal love to Bristle!"
They let out a mocking laughter at the memory.

"I would have liked to spend the rest of my life without seeing Gragas dancing naked before me", groaned Jarvan with the same defeated look than Garen. "I still have nightmares about it."
From the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Garen bite his lips to keep from laughing. Lux was about to retort when the door of the dining hall burst open, interrupting all the conversation. In the brief silence that followed, Draven made a triumphal entry exclaiming loudly:

"Don't wet your panties, girls, Draaaaaaaaaven is here."
He raised his arms above his head in triumph, like an athlete acclaimed by his fans. From their table, the demacian could see Darius, who followed his brother, rolling his eyes before walking away without a word. He joined the table where Swain, Katarina and Talon already sat, ignoring one another.

"Darius must have such patience," remarked Lux, her eyes fixed on the noxian general, clad in his dark red noxian officer uniform.
Jarvan turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know if I could stand Garen if he behaved like Draven," confessed the blonde.

"Oh, don't worry about him; Darius retaliates sometimes," said her brother, laughing. "Whoever took these photos of Draven hugging Bristle was awfully well informed, don't you think."
In the days following Gragas' party, several photos showing a very drunk Draven vainly trying to seduce a very stunned Bristle could be found all over the Institute and gave birth to various jokes and rumors about the Executioner's so-called deviant sexuality. Draven had been in a very bad mood for weeks, while his brother, on the other hand, looked rather pretty happy.

"It was Darius?" Lux asked, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Who else," confirmed Garen, a smirk on his lips.
As he spoke, the subject of their conversation circled the buffet trying to seem impressive.

"What a peacock!" Fiora thought with disdain.
Quinn really didn't understand the duelist. Nobody seemed to please her, nor those who were not very careful of their appearance and reputation, nor those who were, on the contrary, too careful about it.

Quinn sighed and cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure that Valor was still on his spot. When she looked down, her eyes fell on Draven. He strutted around the buffet, clearly trying to attract Caitlyn and Sona's attention. The Sheriff of Piltover simply ignored him and walked away without looking at him, joining Vi and Jayce at their table. Sona sent the noxian an apologetic smile before coming to sit by Lux. The blonde did not give her time to put down her tray before asking:

"Hey Sona, you will come to Gragas' party tonight?"
The musician sat on the bench with a positive nod, then raised her hands and mimed the action of playing her strange instrument.

"Are you going to take care of the music?"
Sona made a hand gesture signifying that Lux was not far from the truth, and then she slowly raised five fingers one after the other. Lux watched her with wide eyes.

"Gragas hired Pentakill?"
Sona agreed with a nod and Lux squealed, excitedly hopping on her chair, attracting the attention of all the other tables.

"I really must go!" She cried with excitement.
Garen sighed. Lux became untenable when someone mentioned this group to her and, frankly, he did not really understand why. He looked at his sister while she was talking animatedly to Sona who merely nodded with an indulgent smile.

Garen resumed his conversation with Jarvan and Lux was busy with Sona. Her tight-lipped frown on her face, Fiora took her tray and went away without saying a word. Quinn was left alone again. With nothing else to do, the scout looked down at her plate. She hadn't eaten a thing and felt no sort of attraction for the contents of her plate. She nevertheless forced herself to swallow two pancakes generously spread with marmalade, but it was like chewing cardboard.

The feeling of being spied came back again, but when she raised her head to look around, she saw no one looking toward her. At the noxian table, Draven seemed tell something hilarious while no one was paying attention to him. Darius was immersed in reading a sheaf of papers that appeared official and Katarina talked with Talon who, for once, had dropped his hood on his shoulders, revealing an angular face, the hazel eyes that haunted the young woman and a mass of black hair carelessly tied with a leather lace. When Quinn turned away, the assassin looked up and their eyes met briefly. Immediately, the young woman felt a strong shudder up her spine and she hurried to look away, but not fast enough to not see Talon's smirk. Annoyed, she ran a hand over her face.

A rustle of wings caught her attention just before the familiar weight of Valor landed on her shoulder. The eagle rubbed his head against his friend's cheek, purring. He probably felt her discomfort. Quinn silently thanked him by handing him one of the remaining grapes from her plate. He gently took it in his beak before swallowing it.

"Thanks God you're here, Val," whispered the young woman.
Deciding she had spent enough time here, Quinn stood up and took her tray to return it to the rack at the end of the hall, while Valor silently circled above her. He rushed through the front door when she exited the room and landed on her shoulder.

Quinn had almost an hour to spare before the rendezvous for the game. She returned to her apartment in the demacian area, greeting Xin Zhao and Galio when she passed them in the hall. Once home, she flung open one of the windows and let Valor go out to stretch his wings. Her diary was waiting on her desk, where she had left it the day before. The young woman looked at it a moment, wondering how far Talon had read it and if it was a good idea to continue writing in it. What had seemed so innocent and natural as a teenager seemed now too dangerous. She was glad she had never revealed any secrets about Demacia in it. For a moment she thought of buying a box in which she could put it when she didn't use it, but she knew full well that Talon will not let any lock stop him.

She really does not understand the noxian's determination to pursue and mock her. No other noxian take such a pleasure to humiliate his nemesis as Talon did. Except, perhaps, Swain, who never missed an opportunity to show Jarvan how he was higher than him. And Draven, too ... But Draven was Draven and he could not, by definition, act otherwise. Even Katarina, playful and cruel feline, was not so harsh. So what was different with her? What had she done to Talon to attract his mockery? She had no idea.

Tired, she sat behind her desk and untied the tie that held it close. She flipped thoughtfully through the page, sometimes stopping on an image or story that particularly pleased her, thinking that the answer might be between these pages. When she got to the last page, however, her heart froze in her chest and she made a leap backwards, knocking her chair and various supplies placed on the desktop. A single sentence, in a small sharp handwriting, spread out in the middle of the last page she had left blank:

"Good luck for the match, kitten!"

In a fit of anger, Quinn swept her arms across the desk, throwing all that was on it to the ground: feathers, charcoals, scrolls and even the ink bottle, which fortunately fell on the carpet without breaking. Her diary flew at the foot of her bed, letting out a few leaflets.

She had to do something. Talon could not continue to play like that with her sanity and penetrate her home with impunity. The Institute could force him to leave her alone between matches. Amaya Sunbringer, Demacia High Summoner, could help her. She had to talk to her.