A/N: Rewrote it three times, and I'm still not entirely satisfied. This was a difficult chapter but I wanted to get it out of the way so I could focus on the (hopefully better) following chapters.
Quinn had calmed down remarkably in the past five minutes. Beyond the door, they walked a winding path, Vessaria following behind her as if content to let her lead. She kept her pace slow, to prove to herself she wouldn't get caught up in the city's boisterousness again, and to examine her surroundings.
It wasn't as bright as it looked from outside the Door. Magic was probably intentionally barring outsiders' view of the place. There were a myriad of plants and trees on both sides of the path. A botanical garden, she concluded. A strange thing for the Institute to bother with, but it helped calm her – a little bit. A few times, she stopped to kneel down and examine a strange looking flower or leaf not native to Demacia. Each time, however, the sound of footsteps stopping behind her dragged her back to reality. She wouldn't apologize to Vessaria, but she quickly gave the plants one last glance before straightening up and continuing along the seemingly never ending path.
No words had been exchanged between the two of them since she had reluctantly moved through the Door. When she had, she felt the Door's magic one last time as it brushed her cheek, like a mother saying goodbye to her daughter. Quinn grimaced as she imagined how her parents would react to her current situation.
Off in the distance, she could see the many buildings that formed the institute. One large building in the center screamed importance, yet she couldn't quite determine what its use was. There was said to be a library of powerful and ancient tomes, research labs, and a highly guarded path to the Fields of Justice inside the institute – among many other things, of course. She had never once heard anything about the botanical garden.
Quinn spent the next half hour split between slowly walking through the garden, examining its contents, and mentally preparing herself for the interview. Could she simply explain she didn't want to join the League and then promise she wouldn't let any dark magic make her a mass murderer?
So, uh, hey. Funny thing, I don't actually want to be a champion of the League. Yeah – I know, right? Crazy. Anyways, I'd appreciate it if you just opened the front door for me. Yeah, don't worry about me. I'll be on my way. You won't ever need to hear from me again. Oh. Terrible, forbidden, evil, and destructively powerful dark magics, you say? Nope, I know nothing of that. I'm a good girl.
Quinn sighed.
"Problem?" Vessaria said immediately, as if she were waiting for the defeated sigh.
Quinn chose to stop walking in front of a massive and oddly content looking Venus flytrap. "No," she said, giving the easiest response possible. She vaguely wondered how the conversation would go if she admitted there was, in fact, a huge problem.
"Good. Your name?"
And then Quinn tensed. She could lie. Could she lie her way out of it all? Claim she was aware of the dark magic and she had total control over it? That she was no different from the dangerous beings from the Shadow Isles who were free to wander the city, and that she had no interest in actually joining the League?
Quinn's understanding of magic was probably somewhere between the Venus flytrap's in front of her and Luxanna Crownguard's – when the mage had been six years old. Lying about something she knew nothing about sounded like a bad idea.
What was the most intimidating dark witch name she could come up with in the next second?
"Reine Vertina." Wherever the name came from, it wasn't that bad. Quinn silently praised herself for her quick thinking, until Vessaria shook her head.
"I appreciate the sentiment of wanting to recreate yourself, but please try again."
"Excuse me?" Quinn demanded, putting more offense in her voice than she had any right to.
"I don't know what you take me for. Your lack of respect towards me bothers me only slightly, but rather I'm more offended by you thinking you're smarter than me," Vessaria said, calmly regarding the Venus flytrap. It slowly opened its leaves, preparing for the next unfortunate insect to cross its path.
"Fine," Quinn said, throwing her arms up in defeat. The best course of action now was to butcher the interview and enjoy the opportunity to investigate all the strange and unique plants that the institute was hiding from the public. "Quinn Attridge."
"Better. And your friend?"
Valor cawed, treading his claws on her shoulder, as if preparing to jump at Vessaria. Quinn wouldn't have been overly upset if he did.
"Valor," Quinn responded quietly.
"I see."
They resumed the walk, passing an miniature, old wooden bridge less than half a meter wide, where a small creek ran only a couple centimeters underneath. Its water looked clean and pure. Quinn resisted the temptation to drink. She was dehydrated from the climbing of the stairs and the torturous heat from the Flames, but the institute felt grimy with magic, as if even her boots were being mucked up from the magic in the gentle breeze. Drinking magical water wasn't likely to help make her feel any cleaner.
A few more minutes passed and Quinn realized she was still leading Vessaria. The garden path split in two. The creek ran to the right, and despite her earlier thoughts, the water might have been a good way to anger her follower. Not buying a cup of lemonade on the other side of the door was a mistake, and the water looked very appealing.
"Is this the interview?" Quinn said.
"Yes, it is. We find it more conducive to conduct interviews outside."
Quinn nodded, taking the right path. "So, start asking me questions?"
"I will, but first things first. Do you have any questions for me?"
Quinn's mind rushed through a thousand questions. Her priority, however, was to leave the place as soon as possible. "Yes, yes I do. Is this water drinkable?" she said, motioning towards the creek which now ran alongside their path.
Vessaria frowned and then slowly nodded.
Quinn dropped to her knees as Valor slid off her shoulder and into the shallow creek.
"Thank god," she muttered just loud enough for Vessaria to hear.
Valor started drinking first as Quinn took her time, cupping water into her hand. It was crystal clear water, and the perfect temperature. Cold, yet not uncomfortably so. It was perfect to refresh herself on a hot afternoon under the beating sun. She splashed a handful on her face, sighing in relief. The tingling sensation as the water ran down her face and her neck was more pleasurable than she had expected.
After spending two weeks trekking through marshland, the waters always green and slimy, Quinn could only call the small creek glorious. It was the kind of water that, had it formed a lake, she would be able to swim out to the center and look straight down to the bottom, seeing the sands, rocks, and seaweed in its depths.
Without hesitation, she dropped her head into the water and began to drink. Her hair falling over her face and into the water, she grinned. Habits of being alone all the time left her acting more animal-like than human. It was a little embarrassing, but at the same time it was the best way to end the interview quickly. Lifting her head up, Quinn shivered as more water dripped off her hair and underneath her shirt. Despite it being magical water – or perhaps because of it – Quinn couldn't remember the last time she'd had such fresh, revitalizing drink. She would regret it later, though.
Most people suffered from magic overdose only a few times in their lives, when they were children and their bodies were still adapting to the world. Quinn experienced it several times a year, onset by the smallest of things, like getting bitten by a magical beast in the forest. She had been expecting it ever since meeting Du Couteau, but unexpectedly she fell ill to natural causes from marsh water. Since entering Senta, Quinn knew it would come soon, so drinking magical water wouldn't matter all too much.
A few times over the course of her life - and more often recently - she'd wondered if she'd drew the short straw as a child, and her magical defenses had failed to develop. Quinn was pretty sure she was more sensitive to magic than other people, though it was always hard to compare.
Valor's beak was still dipped in the water as he drank. Quinn smiled before quickly cupping as much water as she could into her hands and throwing it at Valor. Immediately, he lifted his head and stared at her in disbelief. His feathers were mostly water repellent, but the dubious look he gave her made her grin. She laughed as he twitched his feathers, trying to shake like a dog. Only when he brought his wing down into the water and sent a splash towards Quinn did she calm her laughter down into quiet giggles.
"Refreshing, isn't it, Val?"
He gave her another splash in response.
"Not like some creeks we've had, though I suppose most creeks aren't on a riverbed of magic." She turned to Vessaria, wiping the water droplets off her face. "Well, I'm dry out of questions now, so your turn."
The high Summoner, not electing to respond, kept any disbelief and anger hidden away, and instead looked emotionless like the statues they had passed when they first entered through the Door.
Quinn held out her arm, giving Valor a wry look. He blinked in confirmation. She swallowed down the sense of trepidation she felt. Acting the same as she did in the forest when there were other people around feltwrong. Only trees and fauna had ever seen her and Valor's true selves. Around people, Quinn preferred to keep silent, and to listen and learn.
Vessaria eyed the creek before wiping down her red robes. Only then did Quinn realize Valor had managed to splash her too. They made a great team, her and Valor. She give her partner a discreet grin, before taking several deep breaths to mentally prepare herself for the actual interview, which should have already been sufficiently sabotaged. She would be able to coast through it, and then start making plans for Ionia.
"Yes, my turn," Vessaria said with a measured voice. "I would like to-"
Valor hopped onto Quinn's outreaching forearm, and then she stood up. Without a moment's pause, she began to pirouette in place. Like Valor was on a carousel, he held out his wings and brought his head forward in mock imitation of flying. The air felt cool on Quinn's skin as she spun around, focusing on not tripping. For Valor's part, his eyes were closed and he kept tilting his wings at different angles, enjoying the breeze as water droplets flew off him. Occasionally, he would let out a caw of content and Quinn would smile in return. The entire stunt was embarrassing to let Vessaria see, and she wanted to both burst out laughing and hide her face in a pillow. Her spinning continued for awhile, until she was certain Valor was sufficiently dry.
Finally, Quinn stopped, not willing to test Vessaria's patience any further. Valor let out an upset cry as the motion ended. Quinn planted her feet solidly on the ground facing Vessaria, before taking a forced sidestep, as the world spun around her. She focused on the persistently twisting image of Vessaria.
"Just a little dizzy, sorry. Go ahead, you had some questions for me?"
"Right, yes," the summoner said cautiously. "If-"
"Whoa!" Quinn exclaimed as Valor climbed up to her shoulder, sending her off balance again. She stumbled, falling to her knees. A moment later, she was standing again, the Demacian eagle perched safely on her shoulder "Okay. I'm steady now, do go ahead."
Vessaria nodded, still doing an excellent job of hiding her despair at the hopeless couple in front of her.
"I-" she paused, as if expecting an interruption. "I was wondering how long you and Valor have been together?"
"Huh. A long time. Too long?" Valor bopped her on the head with his beak. "Ow – not too long! Never too long. Three years and three months, give or take a bit," she finished quickly.
"He's a Demacian eagle?"
"He is." Quinn patted him affectionately on the head. "I think."
Vessaria frowned at the last part, as Valor glared at his master. A few silent seconds passed and the high summoner nodded. Holding up a hand, she indicated for Quinn to remain quiet. A short moment passed as she stared up at the light blue sky. Finally, she nodded one last time and turned a curious gaze towards Quinn.
"Alright, I've got what I need. Let's start. Quinn Attridge, Sergeant First Class of the Demacian Army. Human, of course. Born in Everridge and moved to the Demacian Capital at the age of seventeen. Currently wanted for multiple summary courts-martials after disappearing from the capital. What do you know about Demacian law, Quinn?"
"Not much," Quinn shrugged, her mind caught on the word 'multiple'. She could really feel the love flowing from Demacia despite the two thousand plus kilometers separating them.
"That's a shame. You did live there, after all. It's quite a fascinating subject, and one I've spent many hours researching. Do you know what happens when a soldier goes missing for an extended period of time?" Vessaria asked with a wry smile. "The law originated from back before the institute handled the interactions between Demacia and Noxus. Back then, many soldiers weren't accounted for after skirmishes between the kingdoms, and since Noxus never took prisoners, they were presumed dead. This never changed over the years, so now if a soldier has been missing for thirty days, they are declared dead."
"Thirty days," Quinn repeated quietly.
"And do you know how long you've been missing?"
Quinn shook her head. Vessaria was intentionally teasing her, and there was nothing Quinn could do about it.
"You're a corpse," Vessaria said cheerfully, while still managing to maintain her professionalism. "Thirty four days."
Quinn looked away, watching the creek for a moment. It wouldn't have been so long, if not for her getting sick and then the tornado delaying her. But either way, it didn't matter, did it? Closing her eyes, her memory conjured up a vivid picture of the goal – her destination. A waterwheel was churning in the background, and fields of golden wheat formed the horizon. The children kicking a ball back and forth across the dirt road, making a miniature dust storm as the mayor's family waved her goodbye.
She would return.
Vessaria crossed her arms. "Interesting, isn't it? Sometimes I wonder if the Door does these things because it can. Perhaps for revenge, though I've never seen an ancient artifact angry at being repurposed. We do try to keep care of it, but there's only so much we can do. It being a door, and all."
Quinn wondered if maybe it was offended at the concession stands and picnic tables within spitting distance of it.
"It's not that interesting," Quinn offered, not enjoying their conversation in the least.
"No? How about this for interesting – a specter from the Shadow Isles recently came under the service of the League of Legends."
Quinn hesitated. It almost felt like a trap, asking for more details. "I don't care. I don't know anything about it."
"But surely you haven't forgotten Thresh?" Vessaria smirked. "The Paz Disaster? I have my doubts that Annie could have burned as much forest as you three did."
The world really was in a tight spot, Quinn thought. Vessaria was standing here, mocking her, after allowing Thresh to roam the countryside for weeks before being subdued. With Summoners, it could have resulted in minimal casualties. And the Passengers, too. They had existed for decades, quite possibly longer. Why exactly were the magic users dragging their feet? If not for fear of retaliation, she might have asked Vessaria the question. At the rate things was going, Quinn would die doing their job.
Quinn shrugged in response to Vessaria's words. "So the Door of Acceptance is just playing around? Does it find this fun, thinking something is going to happen just because something happened before?"
Vessaria had been watching her carefully, and now she took several seconds before replying. "Fun? I hardly believe ancient artifacts recognize concept of 'fun', let alone pursue it. Why the Door accepted you, I have no idea. It could be any number of reasons. I, however, find it interesting that the primary players of the Paz Disaster are now all under the League's roof."
Somehow it did slip her mind that Luxanna was in the League. Even thinking about mages left her in a sour mood. Luxanna more so, after her brother tried to off Quinn.
"But I digress. I want to know about your fighting style."
Quinn resumed her walk around the garden, Vessaria starting to follow just when Quinn thought maybe she could walk out and leave Vessaria behind. Valor lifted off her shoulder, taking to the skies. Quinn watched him a moment, until he settled into a regular circling pattern overhead. It should have made her feel safe, knowing he was watching from above, but instead, her shoulder empty, she felt more vulnerable.
"Fighting style?" Quinn said. "What do you mean?"
"How you kill your enemies," the high Summoner elaborated.
"With a crossbow."
Quinn didn't look behind her, but she had a feeling Vessaria was shaking her head.
At some point during the walk, they had looped around, and were passing the flytrap again. It was a large garden and Quinn was taking her time examining its contents, but she was taking even more time to answer the questions directed at her.
"Stop," Vessaria suddenly commanded.
Quinn turned around to see her holding out her hand palm up.
"Hand, please."
Quinn frowned, slowly bringing her hand up.
"Today, if you would," Vessaria said, showing the first signs of impatience all day.
With reluctance, she dropped her right hand onto Vessaria's and the high Summoner closed her eyes.
Like the Door, but several orders of magnitude weaker, she could feel Vessaria's magic as it enveloped her hand – but it went no further. Five minutes passed before Vessaria finally spoke.
"Not a drop."
Quinn immediately removed her hand, stepping back. "Huh?"
Vessaria opened her eyes and furrowed her brows. She spoke quietly, as if entirely disbelieving of Quinn. "You don't own a drop of magic. There's some inside you, but from different origins. None of your own." She turned her eyes upwards, to Valor. "Does your companion do all the fighting?"
Quinn remembered Valor's attack on the Passenger, tearing its eyes out with his razor-sharp talons. She winced. "He does his fair share."
Vessaria tapped her foot impatiently. "Then I'm missing something, here."
Quinn caught sight of a plant she had somehow missed the first time through. It was small, leaves like a strawberry plant, but completely dead, with petrified brown leaves that would probably crunch and crumble to dust under any amount of pressure. She bent down, poking her fingers into the soil beside it. Moist. From a cursory inspection, there was no reason for the plant to die. Odd, when all the other plants around it were thriving. Not quite as odd as her being in the Institute of War's garden, but it still somehow jarred her. Since entering Senta, she had experienced countless new sights and sounds that she was surprised she was still functioning normally.
"Dagger," Quinn said suddenly, pulling her hand away from the dead plant. "I use a dagger, too."
Vessaria crossed her arms. "Fine, fine. There's no reason to concern myself with your fighting any longer. I'll trust the flame of Observation. Now, think carefully about this next question."
Quinn gave a small nod, and they continued down the path. Maybe she wasn't functioning normally. They had passed by the area not too long ago, yet little of the garden was familiar to her. It was as if the plants had shifted position, and some replaced by others. She even recognized a flowering Kumungu vine growing on a tree that she hadn't seen before.
"Why did you want to join the League of Legends?"
Quinn stopped, entirely forgetting the vine and the rest of the garden.
The ultimate question had been asked - one she knew was coming eventually. Quinn considered the question. For a fun thought exercise, she considered what an honest answer would have been. It wouldn't have been for the honor, respect, and acknowledgement. She had experienced enough of that in Demacia, enough to last both for herself and her brother a lifetime. Quinn knew many people joined the League for revenge. To kill someone or prove themselves stronger than that person. She had no such ambitions. It would have been nice to thwack a few bolts into Garen's head, but they would always be fighting on the same side so that was an impossibility.
Another thought crossed her mind. An opportunity to become stronger, and to perhaps even learn magic. If she had to give a real reason for a Quinn in a theoretical universe, who actually wanted into the League, then that was it. The Frost Archer could magically materialize ice arrows - which slowed her enemies - in her hand, a power which Quinn wanted almost as much as she didn't want into the League. There were other magics, too. More realistically, she could hope to glean some tricks from Shauna. After all, they were both from Demacia. If Quinn staged it right and asked in front of others, Shauna would have a hard time denying her ally.
Her spoken answer would need something else. Something which would make Vessaria frown and shake her head. How exactly could she fail the interview, while keeping it short and believable? It wouldn't be easy, Quinn thought. The League's champions were among the most questionable assortment of fighters imaginable. Quinn suspected that among them, they had every known mental illness, disease, and curse known to Runeterra. And any reason was accepted. Mass genocide, honor, revenge, power, recognition, entertainment, immortality, information. The question wasn't as straightforward as it seemed. Maybe it didn't matter at all. But if reason didn't matter, and personal character didn't either, then what did? She couldn't think of an answer, and Vessaria was waiting.
Next to her and completely silently, the Venus flytrap snapped shut. Quinn took a step away from it, when a realization hit her.
Something that fit the pattern. All the reasons, they were significant. Important. The League wanted big players; those who would be something in the future and have a meaningful impact on the world. War generals and war heroes, politicians and representatives, princes and princesses, angels and demons. It made sense, and Quinn couldn't believe she didn't see it immediately. All she needed was something believable and insignificant. A delicate balancing act.
Quinn was good at improvisation when it came to battle, but social interactions?
"I-" she started.
"Don't want in the League?"
Quinn flinched, all her thinking suddenly invalidated.
Vessaria shook her head, as if disappointed. "Do you understand the implications of the Door accepting someone? I don't think you do. I don't think you understand the League of Legends, in fact. And that's fine, but you can't simply walk away from here, unaffected by what has happened."
The image of her locked in prison with Nocturne, never getting another night of sleep again, flashed through her mind.
Valor let out a piercing cry from the skies above, before diving down towards them. For a second, Quinn began to reach for her crossbow, thinking Valor had declared it time to make their escape. Only rational thought stopped her. His three and a half meter wingspan blocked Quinn's view as he pulled himself out of the dive and carefully set himself in a hover directly in front of Vessaria, who hadn't moved an inch, her mouth open but silent.
Long seconds passed as Quinn remained still, not daring to interrupt their silent conversation. She felt only minor annoyance that Valor had acted without warning. How much could a Summoner and Demacian eagle communicate?
An interview which had started with Quinn enjoying exploring a massive botanical garden had devolved into a staring contest between a bird and a woman who had only recently been splashed by said bird. Quinn clearly had no right to interfere. After a moment's deliberation, she turned her back to them and knelt down, intent on examining a certain plant that had been in her peripheral vision for awhile.
It was for all the world a completely normal looking plant, except the dark purple berries that grew off of it. She was quite certain it wasn't serviceberry or any similar plant. The leaves were plane circular green, helping it match into the rest of the garden. Most people would have passed it without a second glance, but not Quinn. She couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was something wrong with it. Wrong in what way, Quinn couldn't say.
The silence became even more oppressive, and Quinn realized Valor had flown off. She turned around and looked up to where he was circling them. Then she looked at the high Summoner. Vessaria was frowning at the ground, fingers splayed across her forehead, apparently deep in thought.
Now would be the perfect time to run.
"Uh," Quinn said quietly, "I suppose I'll be going now."
Vessaria looked up. Quinn immediately regretted speaking.
"Yes, yes," Vessaria said.
She rose her hands and snapped her fingers. The sound echoed through the garden, somehow much sharper than Valor's cry earlier. Quinn stepped backwards. At the same time, a similar yet softer crack sounded behind her. She bumped into something.
Time slowed for her as she realized what happened. Someone had teleported behind her. A summoner. It was do or die. Too close quarters for her crossbow, she spun around, slipping out a small dagger from her raiment. Half expecting to have already been annihilated by a small burst of raw magic, Quinn took in the sight with surprise. Another summoner faced her, a short male in brown robes, as if he were a monk. His hair was brown and cut extremely short and his face made Quinn realize how young her attacker was – only he wasn't attacking. He rose his hands in the air in a placating gesture.
"Whoa, whoa, don't kill me!" he cried.
Vessaria cleared her throat. Realizing she was positioned between the two summoners, Quinn quickly removed herself so she could watch them both at the same time. Vessaria had an amused look on her face, perhaps for the first time since Quinn had shown up at the Door of Acceptance.
"This is Gerrit Hogue," she said. "He is assigned to assist you for your first week, I suggest not gutting him or otherwise causing him overt harm. He may come in useful."
Quinn's harried look quickly turned to one of confusion as she switched her attention from Vessaria to Gerrit.
He nodded eagerly. "What she said – I'll be useful, I promise!"
Vessaria continued. "Best to think of him as a teacher. He is sworn to secrecy so ask of him whatever you need. Learn what you can of him before he is reassigned."
"Yes," he said, nodding his head sagely. "I know a lot, maybe not everything I know will be of interest to you, but the League isn't nice to novices."
"And," Vessaria added, "he is still in training, so at the end of the week I will be asking you about his performance."
Gerrit cringed, before whispering conspiratorially to Quinn, "that's right. She's my mentor. Please, please, please say good things to her about me!"
Quinn's head kept swiveling between the two, unable to earn a break from all the dialogue.
"I'll warn you now," Vessaria said, "your first month may be hectic. Everyone will be eager to see your performance and analyze you. Some new champions have been on the rift over fifteen times in their first month. Sona Buvelle saw a record twenty-six matches in her first month."
"Don't let that scare you though," Gerrit jumped in. "Sona was famous well before she stepped onto the Rift."
Vessaria nodded. "I didn't mean to intimidate you. Anyways, I must thank you for showing up. The Door of Acceptance has went to sleep so I'll have at least three days to catch up on paperwork before it's back to the plaza for me."
"What." Quinn spoke. Not a question. A question would require some sort of comprehension, an understanding that a question needed to be asked in the first place. Instead, a single word, simple enough that her brain could force it out her mouth without any drool accompanying it.
"Hmm? You didn't know?" Vessaria said. She sounded much more carefree, perhaps even a little lax in her speech now. "When a new champion joins the League, the Door takes a break. By this, I mean, the magic behind it and the Flames don't respond to any outside stimulation. They're too complicated to understand, so we think of it as a recuperation period. It will be inactive for three days up to a month. Unless, of course, it decides to break pattern for the first time in years and wake up tomorrow just to spite me."
"You're looking a little pale, should I grab you a cup of water?" Gerrit asked Quinn.
Quinn looked at him, knowing her face was, indeed, pale. And very blank too. Gerrit simply nodded. Dropping his head to look at the ground, he disappearing in a puff of grey smoke. Very cliché, Quinn managed to think to herself. She turned to Vessaria.
Vessaria shrugged. "He's a good guy. Anyways, I suppose I'll be talking to you later. Have a good evening Quinn, and best of luck."
And she looked up at the sky before disappearing in a pink puff of smoke. Quinn had no thoughts to attribute to that. Standing alone in the garden, she could feel her heart pounding. Valor was still flying circles above her, as if to watch for approaching wolves. They weren't, however, in the forest. They were standing – and flying – inside the Institute of War, where the most powerful people on Valoran congregated.
Quinn turned to the creek, intending on dunking her face into it until she passed out. The creek, however, had different plans. A silent, dry riverbed sat in its place. She knelt down, running a finger along the dirt and pebbles. Completely dry, as if no water had passed through in a week. Alright, Quinn thought to herself. In reality, it wasn't alright, but then again it really didn't matter. Reality had ceased to make sense, so why bother worry over it?
In her peripheral vision, her eyes saw nothing. Hesitantly, she turned to face where the purple berry bush should have been. In its place, a patch of moss. Dark green moss. She approached it, experimentally pushing a finger into its soft layer. It was wet, as though a recent rainfall had occurred.
The obvious conclusion was too much magic. She had spent too much time around magic. From the start of the day in the marshes, to her time spent travelling the main trade route into Senta, then to the market and witch-doctors abode, and afterwards to her time in front of the Door of Acceptance, she had absorbed more magic than the rest of her life combined. Now her brain was shutting down and lying to her. As such, the logical thing to do would be to find a bed, close her eyes, and worry about the wrongness of the world tomorrow.
Her feet started bringing her towards the front entrance of the Institute of War. She had passed a cheap hotel earlier in the day, so as long as it still existed, unlike the berry plant and creek, she would be laying on a bed within the hour.
When another crack resonated throughout the garden, Quinn stopped her feet. She turned around, a little unwillingly, to face Gerrit, whom she had somehow already forgotten about. He offered her a smile.
"I was going to grab some water, but then I thought 'hey, water is pretty lame', so here's some iced lemonade!"
The drink found its way into her hand, the cool glass unfortunately not bringing clarity to her mind. Taking a sip, she watched as Gerrit pointed towards one of the buildings next to the largest structure.
"Since you haven't been introduced to the League yet, you have to spend the night here. Once we get you acquainted, I'm sure your prince – oh, sorry, that was a little informal of me – I'm sure Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth will have a nice house on Demacia Avenue set aside for you – he knows you're in, right?"