A/N: Magic and Quinn go together as well as water mixes with oil.
Luxanna was seated across from her, hands resting flat on the table as if to keep herself calm and in control. Her features were partially hidden by the restaurant's weak lighting, and Quinn – only half sitting on her seat and ready to bolt at a moment's notice – examined the girl cautiously. Since it was Luxanna, the confession had to be something insane. Two thoughts jumped to mind, neither the least bit reasonable, and thus fitting the bill nicely. Either it was a love confession, or she was going to confess to hiring an assassin to kill Quinn.
Despite trying to appear calm, the girl before her was no longer smiling, and instead, she was showing signs of nervousness that Quinn hadn't ever imagined she would see on the girl's face. Her gaze was strong, her eyebrows arched as she watched Quinn carefully, as though searching for a reaction before she had even said her part. Her hair, brilliant gold and just a little unkempt, reached past her shoulders – a length Quinn never allowed her own to reach, lest it detract from her combat abilities.
Sometimes, Quinn wondered about how different people could see the world so differently. There was no reason for Luxanna to be nervous – she was a powerful, respected mage. And without enemies, there was no reason to be afraid. It took a moment for Quinn to realize it, but it bothered her. She didn't like how something could diminish Luxanna.
After a moment's deliberation, Quinn decided to head it off, before it was too late and she got swept up in something unpleasant. "Is this something you can just not tell me?"
Luxanna hesitated. "No. I think I need to say it."
Quinn forced a laugh, but it came out hollow and lifeless. "How bad can it be? It's not like you're confessing to murder, right? Don't worry about it."
The girl looked away momentarily, her eyes seemingly resting on something interesting, near the far wall. "Maybe you're right. Let's order and eat first."
Quinn didn't bother arguing – she was hungry enough that she didn't want to risk upsetting her appetite when Luxanna finally spoke her confession. The two girls silently picked up their menus, and a few minutes passed before Quinn finally relaxed. Luxanna was silent – that was a good thing, right?
The waiter arrived, bowing to Luxanna, and after a quick scrutiny, to Quinn too. He was quiet mannered, fitting the atmosphere of the restaurant nicely, and lingered a moment after taking their orders of pasta, noodles, and salad. Luxanna had to clear her throat to wake him from his reverie, and he quickly scurried away.
"You know him?" Quinn asked, surprising herself. She wasn't one for conversation, and she really didn't care. There was the frightening possibility that she was somehow comfortable enough to make small talk, but she pushed the thought away, focusing her attention on the girl in front of her.
"Not really," she said. "He seems to be my waiter every time I'm here – weird, huh?"
Quinn looked at her doubtfully. "Is it? You saw the way he was looking at you, and I don't think it was because of the extra spicy pepper sauce you ordered with your pasta."
Luxanna threw her head back, trying to catch sight of the waiter who was already long gone. "He was looking at me? You sure?"
"He sure wasn't looking at me."
"So, where did you go, the month you were gone?"
The conversation so suddenly changing directions made Quinn pause to think.
"Hunting Noxians," she said slowly.
"The entire time?"
"Yes."
"Why did you leave without saying goodbye to me?"
"Why would I?"
Luxanna hummed, seemingly unperturbed. "Where's Valor?"
"Hunting."
"I guess he really doesn't like the city," she said, tapping her chin idly. "Oh, did you hear about the Passengers?"
"I did."
"What's your favorite color?"
"Fe- wait, what? None of your business."
Luxanna laughed. "It was worth a shot. You were only giving me one or two word answers. Has anyone ever told you that you suck at conversation?"
The words had meant to be playful, Quinn knew, but they still stabbed at her heart in a completely unsuspecting way. She hadn't apparently changed the least in seven years, if both her brother and Luxanna were able to make the exact same comment. She had moved past the grieving, or so she had thought. It angered her, that such an innocent question could stir her emotions up.
"I didn't mean it like that-"
"It's fine," Quinn interrupted, deciding to answer the rhetorical question. "And yes, I've been told that before, though it was a long time ago."
"Oh." Luxanna picked up the salt shaker, turning the glass bottle around as though infatuated by the small crystals. "So... have you heard from Karma yet?"
Again, a different topic. Quinn didn't mind that their conversation had no flow to it, but she wondered if that was par for the mage.
"Karma? The Duchess of Ionia? Why would she contact me?" Quinn said, reluctant that Luxanna had managed to pique her curiosity.
Luxanna gave a teasing smile. "Oh, well that's a secret, then."
Quinn balled her fists, a little surprised she hadn't seen the refusal coming.
The fact that Ionia might have had something to say to her was disquieting. Had they discovered her influence in the region, during the Noxus invasion? She had been under Demacian orders then, and had only helped the besieged kingdom. There was nothing she had done to be ashamed of, but the idea of any form of government wanting to communicate with her brought nothing but bad expectations.
"What does she want?" Quinn asked more forcefully. "Tell me."
"Nope," Luxanna said, shaking her head with apparent delight at having fully captured Quinn's attention. "You'll find out soon enough."
"Fine." She wouldn't play the childish game Luxanna was trying to implicate her in.
"Hey Quinn," Luxanna said, a second after she must have realized Quinn had already given up.
Quinn braced herself for the question, knowing she wouldn't be able to guess it if given a million chances.
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me what happened?" the mage whispered. "Back in the capital?"
"You mean the assassin," Quinn said after a short pause.
Luxanna gave her a concerned nod.
"There's not much to say. He was loud and woke me up before he could off me. I turned his knife on him, and that was it."
"That was it?"
Quinn nodded. It had been a little lie, that the assassin had woke her, but she wasn't going to be completely honest until Luxanna was cleared of having hired the assassin – something not likely to happen.
"Listen," Luxanna said, fiddling with a lock of hair between her fingers. "I know you think Garen had some part to play in it – and I know I'm his sister so you think I would defend him no matter what – and I know you probably don't really value my word – and, and I know it's probably none of my business – but I just wanted to say, I don't think Garen had anything to do with it. He can be a little hard-headed and devoted to his kingdom-"
"Sounds like someone else I know."
"Quinn!" Luxanna whined, locking her lips together in a pout that Quinn found rather entertaining. "I'm trying to be serious here."
"Serious doesn't suit you," Quinn said, recognizing how true it was only after she'd said it.
"I did my own investigation," Luxanna said, an intensity showing in her eyes that hadn't been there a moment earlier. "I really don't think Garen could have been involved, even if he doesn't approve of you!"
"Fine, fine," Quinn said, bringing her hands up defensively. Dropping them back down to the table, she sighed. Hearing someone else say the words wasn't as easy as she expected, and the food was taking too long. Her mood was beginning to sour. "A vote of confidence for your brother. I'll keep it in mind, when I'm exacting my revenge."
"Revenge," Luxanna repeated, more subdued. It seemed to be half question and half disappointment.
"Relax. I wasn't really serious. I don't think it's likely I'll ever get the opportunity."
That was not to mention that Quinn wasn't entirely enthusiastic about it. She'd rather forget it, and go somewhere far away, where she wouldn't ever need to think about it again. Somewhere assassins wouldn't bother hunt her down. Of course, Heiwa village was the perfect place. Why was she delaying? Clearly everything was Valor's fault. Quinn resolved to have a stern talking to with him. League contract or no, it just wasn't feasible to stay sane in such a place for long.
The waiter distributed the plates of food on their table, and both girls watched him as he left – but not before he gave Luxanna an unbidden smile.
"Yeah," Quinn said, feeling like a gossiping teenage girl, "he likes you."
"I think you're right," Luxanna said, cradling her head in her hands. "And I liked this place, too."
"What?"
"I can't lead him on," she said, picking up her fork and stabbing a noodle with surprising force. "So I can't really come back here, can I?"
"You can't lead him on, you say, but you don't even know him." Quinn frowned. "How do you know he's not worth a shot? Are commoners not good enough for you?"
It was a silly question. Luxanna was a Demacian noble, of course she couldn't go around dating men below her status. Despite this, Quinn wanted to hear otherwise. In her mind, she had set Luxanna up as someone who didn't care about status. Her rebelliousness in the face of the army, her curiosity, and her unpredictability had led Quinn to think of her as – well – not a noble. Certainly not a commoner either – Luxanna was too beautiful and refined, at times, to be classified as low status. What exactly was Luxanna, to Quinn?
A mystery, who claimed she wanted to be Quinn's friend?
"Commoners are plenty good," Luxanna said, their eyes meeting for the shortest of moments. "But he just doesn't interest me."
A mystery, but one that hadn't betrayed Quinn's expectations. Satisfied, Quinn began eating her meal.
"By the way," Luxanna said, breaking the silence as Quinn started on her salad. "I'm sorry for not helping you out at your introduction this morning. Usually it's something a little less – less melodramatic, but people are always eager to test the newbies. For every new member of the League, the older members lose a little power in deciding things. They lose fame, and importance, and most don't like it. We're an odd bunch, if you hadn't figured that out for yourself already. But, all things considered, you fared well."
"Uh – thanks?"
Quinn poked at a leaf of lettuce on her plate. It took conscious effort not to use her fingers to pick it apart and eat it, and she wished she had requested no salad dressing. The taste was a little unsettling. The forest would be disappointed in her, if it could see her now.
"I'm serious," Luxanna said, setting her fork down as if to emphasize her words. "You had a large crowd and you managed to make Sivir look bad. Not anyone could do that."
"I said serious doesn't suit you. And speaking of large crowd," Quinn said with a frown, "why are there so many champions in town? I was under the impression that it was more of a come-and-go kind of deal."
Luxanna looked at her incredulously. "You don't know?"
Quinn shook her head. Being annoyed with the girl was a hopeless affair. She would be better off letting the conversation play itself out.
"It's the week of the Piltover-Zaun trades agreement. They remake it every five years and it's kind of a big deal. I mean, they're so close geographically, yet their cultures are completely different. Decisions need to be made on every tiny thing or you end up seeing some of the yuckiness of Zaun oozing into Piltover, or even scarier, some of Piltover's technology in Zaun labs."
Aside from the dangerous, unpredictable girl across from her, Quinn was content. She had nearly died three times in the past months, but she had survived, becoming stronger and learning more about her limits each time – if that couldn't make her happy, what would? There was always the gray clouds of Demacia and betrayal hanging over her head, but they didn't seem quite so terrible, at the moment. Whatever punishment the king sought to exact on her, she could handle it, either by buckling down or disappearing.
Quinn ate another mouthful of salad. The magic inside the restaurant wasn't too strong, as though the restaurant's entrance acted as a filter, and only a marginal amount of the city's stink could reach her inside. She assumed blocking magic was possible, but how would it be done? By magic? That seemed a little counterproductive.
If Quinn focused hard enough, she could feel an ethereal warmth on her hands. If it wasn't her imagination, then it was most certainly coming from the 'Lady of Luminosity', who really wasn't all that ladylike. Quinn pulled back her hands, watching the mage who slurped up her noodles seemingly without a worry in the world. Over the course of the meal, Quinn had kept one eye on the door, watching the people who came and left, but now she devoted her attention to Luxanna. It was time to hear why the girl had dragged her inside the restaurant. Quinn sat a little taller in her chair and set her fork aside.
"All right, she said after a deep breath. "Spit it out."
"Not the noodles!?" Luxanna managed to say with a mouthful.
Quinn crossed her arms, not bothering to dignify the question with a response. Luxanna hurried to clear her mouth.
"Okay," she said quieter. "I want to preface this by saying it was a complete accident and I'm sorry and I'll do anything to make it up to you."
Anything, Quinn thought? She somehow doubted it.
"The truth is, I saw your interview."
"My interview?" Quinn felt a wave of relief. It was something innocent, so why was Luxanna making a big deal about it? "That's-"
Quinn choked on her words mid mid sentence as the full implications hit her. The interview she had intended on failing. She had been playing with Valor, a sight she never even wanted to show a single person, and now two had seen.
Quinn dropped her head into her hands with a groan. Whether or not she had an image to protect didn't matter – it was simply embarrassing for someone to see her playing with Valor.
"I – I saw your garden," Luxanna continued in a whisper. "I'm sorry! I really, really, really am. I just so happened to be on the fourth floor of the main building hunting for some archived documents and I looked out the window and there you were and I thought you had died but you were alive so I couldn't look away and I know I really should have but I swear I didn't hear anything either you or Vessaria said and speaking of which I can't believe Vessaria actually conducted the interview that was really weird you must have impressed her somehow at the Door but that's not the point, the point is, I'm sorry!"
At some point during Luxanna's apology, Quinn had sunk a little further in her chair. She argued with herself that Luxanna was practically a stranger, it didn't matter what she saw. It wasn't altogether that embarrassing. She handled life or death battles with otherworldly beings, so why would she be embarrassed about someone seeing her play? The logic was sound, but that didn't stop her ears from reddening and a blush appearing on her cheeks. She waited a couple minutes, before feeling up to the task of talking again.
"You – you said you would do anything to make things better?"
"Yes! I'm sorry. Really, really, I am," Luxanna stressed.
"Fine," Quinn said, still not willing to look at the girl. She dismissed a few ideas of demands, ones that simply weren't practical. "Then I want you to never speak of this to anyone, ever. And don't talk to me either. Just leave me alone."
Cautiously, Quinn removed a finger from her face to catch a glimpse of Luxanna. She wore a loose fitting purple cloak, her long blond hair tied back and hidden beneath the cloak. Her pale face regarded Quinn nervously as she twiddled with her fingers.
"Uh – about that." She let out a nervous little laugh. "Funny thing. You see, tomorrow we're laning together."
Laning? For some reason, the word sounded oddly intimate. Quinn shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
"Oh," she uttered aloud, as if it were an appropriate response.
Luxanna leaned forward, a little more relaxed. "Is that all you have to say?" She seemed happy at the thought, but just as quickly, the smile disappeared and she frowned. "You do know what I'm talking about, right?"
It was Quinn's turn to fidget nervously, her momentum lost. "Uh – well – by that you mean... that – uh – no. No. I have no clue what you're talking about."
"Dear god," Luxanna whispered to herself, "this is going to be a bloodbath."
By the end of the meal, Luxanna had explained their upcoming battle on the Summoner's Rift, and Quinn had retracted her demand to be left alone – it had been a spur of the moment decision, and anyways, they were both Demacians, their paths would likely cross again in the future.
Luxanna had also once again proved to Quinn how ruthlessly cunning she could be. Their last meal together, back in Demacia, had been paid for by Luxanna, so Quinn intended on paying this time, and settling the debt. It wasn't to be, however. Luxanna had apparently already paid, after she'd confessed to spying on Quinn's interview process, during the time when Quinn had been recovering from the embarrassment with her head in her hands. As it was now, Quinn was condemned to paying the girl back two meals. This fact, however, was pushed into the back of her mind. She was now entirely focused on their upcoming battle tomorrow.
Having finished the meal and escaped Luxanna's company, Quinn started forth into the depths of the city. The sun was setting, and she needed a place to sleep. It would be the forest for the night, she decided. The commute would be nearly an hour, from the forest outside the city and beyond the farmlands, all the way to the Institute of War, but she didn't mind.
The next day, Quinn learned what the Rift really was.
She stumbled off the platform, ears ringing and stomach in turmoil. Her eyes scanned the room, glossing over Suuntaava, which rotated slowly on its pedestal. There was only one door out of the place. She knew that from before, but it had temporarily escaped her memory. She made towards it, but her feet were unwilling, and she stumbled and was forced to slow down her pace. She could hear celebratory voices behind her, but she paid them no heed. They weren't important to her. Her goal was to find the bathroom.
A voice called out to her – at least she thought, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't be sure of anything, so she ignored it. Moving through the large stone doorway, visions came back to her in sudden flashes that temporarily blinded her.
A massive axe cut through her aura, not stopping as it tore through her skin in an instant. Her arm dropped to the ground. Blood was everywhere and pain debilitating. She tried to run from the monster, her focus no longer on her crossbow or the skirmish in the distance. Where had Luxanna went? It didn't matter, she had to rely on herself now, as always. The giant hulking aberration's red eyes looked away and he lumbered off towards something out of her sight.
She felt a moment of relief. A chance at survival if she could return to the magical fountain to heal her and dull the crippling pain. The moment of hope instantly died as the air in front of her shimmered and a festering rat standing on two feet appeared, shooting a metal bolt through her heart. And then the pain stopped. Her body ceased to exist, as far as her mind could comprehend it. In the Void, she wondered? No, not likely. The thought – the realization – that she had just died left her mind completely shocked and numbed.
Quinn had died. She had been killed, but that hadn't been the end.
Growing up in Everridge, her parents had been careful to teach her about the dangers of the world, and how death was an absolute end to everything. She was made aware of the dangers of the cliffs and monsters in the forests surrounding the village, and the danger of the farm tools they used on a daily basis. They were normal children, her mother had said. They couldn't pull off any of the feats seen on their favorite shows on the old television set, because they were young and had no magic. Quinn and Caleb had to watch out for each other. They had to be careful. That was why her mother had blamed her for Caleb's death. It had been an accident – one that could have been avoided if they had been more careful. Quinn had carried those lessons with her after she'd ran away, and it had shaped her. The forest commanded respect, and though she had spent nearly every waking hour in it, she had never grown lax.
Despite all that, they had both died, yet she was the only one who came back. The Summoner's Rift, and its magic, was a powerful and terrifying thing, but most of all, it seemed completely unfair, taking into account the rest of the world.
No, it didn't seem unfair. It was unfair. She could die, die, and die again in battle and she would keep coming back. Before the League of Legends had created the Fields of Justice, it didn't work like that. Soldiers had only a single life – or so they desperately hoped. If they were given a second life, it meant a Noxian or Zaunite had taken their body and performed nasty experiments on them, giving them a false, zombie-like existence. Or – equally as bad – a Passenger had infected them.
Completely ignorant, Quinn had spent years roaming the forests of Noxus and Ionia, all the while champions of the League had been laughing in the face of death.
Her hatred for Summoners, and for magic, only grew stronger. They sat within their castle walls, protected by guards day and night, where they studied and practiced their powers. And then, when they were deemed strong enough – sufficiently in control of their magic – what did they do? They used it for political games. They used it so Noxus, Ionia, and Demacia could relentlessly attack each other within any consequences, publicized for the entertainment of the rich and nobles around the world, and quenching the thirst of the manic for bloodshed.
Had they been so far indoctrinated, not to realize what their powers could accomplish? Everything they could fix, and all the good they could do in the world? While countless people died of disease, old age, and monsters around Valoran every day, they enjoyed their grassy fields and cool libraries without the least bit of shame.
The relentless attacks continued, the intent to kill that Quinn had only seen in a handful of people before. Birds were set upon her by the Noxian Grand General. She tried to bat them away and to shoot bolts at them, but it was no use. For every one she killed, three more took its place. Eventually, she was overwhelmed. She could hear Luxanna screaming and then there was light, and a temporary relief, a numbing of the agony, but it was short lived. Too short lived. Before she could even process it, her aura shattered and their beaks teared her apart like she was but a measly mouse. In the last moments of her life, she could hear laughter.
She had been through hell and hadn't survived. Losing count of her deaths after the fifth time, she had taken to the jungle. A place which any real forester would laugh if she tried to compare to a real forest. The wide paths leading through the jungle left her feeling vulnerable and the trees were barely thrice her height. It was only marginally better in the forests than in the lanes and around the massive stone towers. Within the trees, it took them longer to find her. Not much longer, but enough that she could begin to think she had a bearing on the situation. And then Twitch would appear, wandering the jungle looking for his prey.
Quinn stopped at an intersection in the hallway, swinging her head side to side and causing the world to spin. She lurched down the right corridor, running into the wall and then dragging herself along it until she reached the bathrooms. Her mind wouldn't stop thinking, when she wanted nothing more than to collapse. The Rift had been too much stimulation, and her deaths too incomprehensible, and she didn't want to think about it but she couldn't not, causing her headache to quickly worsen. She wanted to forget the nightmare, to regain a little of herself – but at the same time she was afraid she'd been permanently changed, as though the Rift had ripped into her and taken a part of herself for its own, nefarious purposes. Had she really escaped, or was it all a dream? Maybe the Rift had claimed her, and she was forever doomed to be its slave.
Before she knew it, she was kneeling over a toilet in a bathroom stall. A few seconds passed as her breathing slowed. No longer hyperventilating, she still felt sick, as though her stomach was being used as a cauldron to brew poison.
She moved and the knife innocently whistled past her. Only a second later did she realize she had been hit by a different one. She pushed the unpleasant piece of information away and fired another bolt at Katarina, whose aura absorbed it like it had been made of paper. And then Katarina, moving at an alarmingly fast speed, started running at her, throwing more knives than she could count. Ten, fifty, one hundred? They cut her in the blink of an eye, leaving countless thin cuts all over her body that stung but refused to bleed. And then her aura shattered, leaving the following knives to cut directly at her heart.
She retched out her previous meal, her head pounding with blood. After a short pause, she puked again, forcing her eyes closed but quickly reopening them upon realizing closed eyes only helped bring about memories of the Rift. Sleep, something she desperately wanted, suddenly seemed ominous. It was no longer a friend she could rely on. She had none now, not even Valor could help her, being so far in the depths of the Institute of War.
After attempting a few calming breaths, Quinn became aware of someone standing behind her, carefully holding her hair back as she leaned over the toilet.
It took a few seconds to realize there was only one person who would be so nice, and a few more seconds to remember the name. It was only expected that Luxanna would follow her, to make sure she was okay. Quinn clenched her fists tightly and stood up, shrugging the girl's hands away. She had meant to lean against the wall, to regain her bearings so she wouldn't stumble, but before she knew it, Luxanna was the one stumbling, hitting the bathroom stall's door. The choice words Quinn had collected for the mage died on her tongue, and instead she looked at her sore and quickly reddening fist.
A little reluctantly, she looked back up to Luxanna, who was clutching her shoulder. The girl was blinking, eyes watering as she glared at Quinn, her mouth agape. She had the audacity to look betrayed.
Luxanna was a mage. A magic user, not so different from the Summoners of the world, but several magnitudes more powerful. Somehow, Quinn had forgotten it during the supper they shared last night. Luxanna was cunning, and she had been able to divert Quinn's attention from the truth. Mages lived completely different lives. Luxanna had power beyond Quinn's abilities, at the tip of her fingers.
Quinn hated mages, and meeting Luxanna had almost made her forget it.
"Go away, mage" Quinn snarled, punching the wall next to her and feeling it give in slightly. The loud bang echoed throughout the empty bathroom, and Luxanna, though she tried to hide it, flinched. "Your magic disgusts me – you disgust me. I don't want to see you again."
Luxanna stood up a little straighter, letting her arm drop uselessly from her shoulder.
"That's... I – I see," she whispered, eyes now locked on the ground. Without another word, she slowly backed out of the stall.
Quinn listened to her footsteps, which gradually picked up pace until she assumed Luxanna was running out of the bathroom.
She swore, cursing magic – cursing the Institute of War and the Summoner's Rift. Her anger might have been directed a little bit at herself too. She had been the one to leave Everridge, to join the army, and to get duped into entering the League of Legends. She'd made mistakes. She hadn't even meant to hit Luxanna. Her anger needed to be directed somewhere, and the mage proved too easy of a target. An unsuspecting, trusting target.
But Quinn had no magic, she reassured herself. Her mistakes, no matter how bad, were nothing compared to the mages of Valoran.
It wasn't a projectile that flew towards her. It was raw magic, and it was unavoidable. It caught her feet, and for a second she thought it had failed, popped like a bubble and dissipated into nothingness, but then she tried to move. The dark, swirling magic didn't let her; it shackled her feet to the ground, not giving her so much as a centimeter. With this realization, she looked up. Twitch was loading his crossbow, and she thought she had a second to prepare, but magic yet again proved her wrong. The grass flooded, suddenly submerged as a dark liquid pool appeared beneath her feet. It burned at her shoes and her aura. She struggled against the dark bindings, but it was a futile effort. She was stuck in the pool, left to broil in liquid conjured from the darkest magic.
Quinn came to, collapsed in a heap against the bathroom wall. She lay there a moment, before remembering the match was over, and she wasn't about to be sent back into the fray.
Prior to arriving at the League, she had a vague understanding of how they worked, and she didn't like it. The Summoners used their powers to send champions to the Rift – supposedly in an alternate plane – where they could brutalize each other as much as they wanted, and the most vicious won, taking all the accompanying fame and predetermined political goodies. It was an abhorrent use of magic. Everyone in Everridge was of the same opinion. And when Quinn had ran away from home, travelling from village to village on her way to the coast, she had found others who agreed. In fact, every village had seemed of the same opinion, yet they were but commoners, and no amount of complaining would change anything. An uprising would be met with the unrestrained force of the Demacian army, and petitions would fall on the deaf ears of the nobles. When she had arrived in the capital, things were different. The champions were heroes, and they were celebrities. The Summoners were revered, and the children aspired to move to Senta and become the next High Summoner.
That was all before Quinn had experienced it firsthand.
Immortality was a very real thing, and Quinn had experienced it for a moment. Her heart had been physically destroyed by metal and magic, and she could remember how it felt, to have the organ punctured, the arteries cut open, and her blood pour. She could remember, the moment she experienced death, and she could remember the darkness of an empty void – not the Void, or at least she didn't think – but a void, where dead champions' subconsciouses bid their time before they could return.
And now, leaning over a toilet in a bathroom in the Institute of War in the largest city in the world, Quinn was mortal once again. If she died now, by making even the smallest of mistakes, it was all over for her. Nothingness awaited her. She would be erased, her body probably burned by magic and her name forgotten.
With a little effort, she managed to pull herself up and out of the stall. Behind her, the toilet flushed automagically.
Was death the ultimate enemy, or magic, she wondered? Somehow, Du Couteau came to mind. His answer, to fight death with magic, seemed to be the logical approach, but Quinn had no magic. In that regard, it was impossible for her to fight death, without aligning herself with someone like him, who claimed capable.
Quinn walked to the sink. There was a large mirror on the wall, but she didn't look. She wouldn't – she couldn't. It would only renew her anger, and she feared she might not like what she saw. Instead, she splashed water on her face. It refreshed her, but she didn't want to be refreshed. What did she want, Quinn wondered? She wanted out. She wanted to be gone. Back to Ionia, where all the nonsense of the world couldn't reach her.
A/N: Things will get better. Reviews & feedback are always appreciated.