The fact that she was so very much looking forward to visiting Lux at the hospital was, as Quinn saw it, explained by the fact that Lux was a thousand times easier to converse with than LeBlanc. There would be no ambiguity in Lux's words, no need to search for deeper meaning or the truth, and Quinn could say things without putting them through so many filters.
As though Quinn were a regular at the hospital, the large woman behind the receptionist counter waved her over as soon as she entered.
"Miss Attridge," the woman said with a gentle smile. "It's about time, or several hours late, if you don't mind me saying so."
"What?"
"Our VIP has been asking about you every other hour."
"VIP? Lux?"
The receptionist nodded. "She's awake, stable. Room two oh seven, now."
As it turned out, she didn't need to even read the labels next to the doors, once she reached the right floor. A Summoner was standing opposite to room 207. He gave her a half-hearted nod when she approached, and then waved his hand towards the door. She heard the click of it unlocking.
The door was different though – it had a window this time. It was obviously a less secure room, and the fact that only one Summoner was on guard meant Lux must have been nearly fully recovered.
Quinn pressed her face to the window, and realized the receptionist had been wrong about one thing. Lux wasn't awake. It would have been easy to turn around and leave, but she managed to convince herself to stay, as to not look silly in front of the Summoner standing guard.
Quietly, she entered the room and closed the door behind her. Rather than turn on the light and risk waking Lux, she approached in the darkness, accidentally stubbing her toe on a chair before finding herself at Lux's bed.
It took a few minutes of standing over Lux before her eyes adjusted to the dark enough to see Lux's features. And then Quinn felt like a nutcase for watching the sleeping girl so intently, and she brought the chair, which she had earlier stubbed her toe on, closer and sat down.
When her eyes were drawn to Lux's face for the third time in a minute, she sighed. What exactly was she doing? Was she going to apologize to a sleeping Lux again, and admit that she cared about Lux's well-being? Or maybe she would recount her meeting with LeBlanc, and hope for some kind of revelation – some way to know how to move forward. Pursue Kaiser immediately? Wait and bide her time until she knew she wasn't being tricked? Forget about it, and hide from her enemies?
Quinn knew she couldn't bring the subject up with an awake Lux. If what LeBlanc had said was true, then a Demacian was responsible, and that would upset Lux, who was as loyal to Demacia as they came.
More importantly, however, Lux was even less likely than Quinn to want to hear anything LeBlanc had said. She would rather believe the Unwilling Passengers had a bomb fanatic among them than believe a Demacian had planted the bomb. For similar reasons, Quinn didn't want to embark on an explanation of what she had seen on the Rift.
She pushed the unpleasant thoughts away.
A couple years ago, when she had been in Ionia, Quinn had tried to learn how to meditate. It had been hours upon hours of frustration and failure, so she didn't know why she was so suddenly dead set on clearing her mind now, but she made an attempt. The proper posture wasn't possible in the chair, so she focused on other aspects of the skill.
Back straight, eyes closed, she listened to the sound of her breathing. The sensation of the air entering her nose, and then her lungs, and then leaving when she exhaled, and the process repeating.
"Death is in every other cup – it's hardly mention worthy. This, on the other hand, is good – I think. It almost warrants me revisiting some of my old scripts, because if I'm reading this right..." Karma tipped the cup, so Quinn could see inside. "It's love."
Quinn snorted aloud, any semblance of her focus gone.
Ridiculous. Why was she remembering something like that, at a time like this?
Standing up, Quinn went to the wall nearest to the door and found the light switch. She flicked it on, no longer caring if she woke Lux. It was an act of defiance – telling herself she didn't actually care. Squinting in the new light, she watched Lux. The girl didn't stir.
There were a few undeniable facts, Quinn concluded as she began to pace the room.
One, Lux was beautiful. It was an objective statement – the girl was desired by nearly every man in Demacia – and so it wasn't awkward to say.
Two, Quinn enjoyed Lux's company. It was a simple, innocent truth, she told herself. She had enjoyed their dinners together, and regretted all the times she'd hurt Lux – indirectly and directly – and she looked forward to hearing Lux's voice. They were friends.
Three, Lux was nobility. A Crownguard, and one of Demacia's most powerful mages. Magic users were powerful, selfish people, and they were dangerous. Quinn wasn't about to forget what Akali had said. Lux had done something in Ionia, and the Demacian army had covered it up, but some enmity still existed between Ionia and Lux.
Four – and she could lie to herself all she wanted, but it didn't matter – she liked Lux. There was a large difference between like and love, though, and she took solace in the fact, because otherwise, she would have had a major problem.
Despite her solitary life, Quinn had never been convinced she would spent it all without a partner. It was easy, during the quieter times, to believe she would alone forever, but she always reminded herself there were decades of her life left – infinite, if she played her cards right – and she would eventually find someone to spend them with.
Nor was the problem that she was attracted to someone of the same gender.
The problem was who she was attracted to. Not because Lux was a mage, nor because she was a noble from a family that hated Quinn – though those were problems too – but because Lux had shown her kindness. Lux had been the one to offer her company, and offer her friendship. What kind of person was Quinn, if all it took were those simple things, to want more? They were supposed to be friends.
Lux was the first person to give her genuine attention, and now Quinn was falling for her? It was shallow, pathetic and desperate. It was a person Quinn didn't want to be.
So she needed to leave. The banquet tomorrow would be a minor inconvenience, but there she would be able to collect information on the Unwilling Passengers, assuming Irelia or Janna made an appearance. Hearing from Karma would be a good idea, too, since Karma had promised Quinn an explanation of the supposed prophecy.
Done setting her thoughts in order, Quinn stopped pacing the room, and made a beeline for the door.
"Wait."
Quinn stopped and turned around. Lux was sitting up, staring at her with furrowed brows.
"You're awake," Quinn said, stepping away from the door.
"You were going to leave," Lux said.
She sounded annoyed, and it occurred to Quinn that she had somehow already made a misstep.
"You were sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you," Quinn said.
"You were supposed to wake me."
"I didn't know."
Lux adjusted her pillow, sitting up in her bed.
Quinn inhaled deeply. It had felt like so long since they had last spoken. "I'm sorry," she said. "This was all my fault."
"Quinn, please don't feel bad about what happened," Lux said. "Unless you placed the bomb there yourself, it's not your fault, so there's no need to apologize."
And there it was. No hesitation, nor any hint of a lie. No anger, which would have been present if Lux was a normal person, and no hint of any other negative emotion.
After meeting fake-Helen, courtesy of LeBlanc, Quinn had begun having second guesses about her estimation of Lux, but she was just as quickly proven wrong. It might have been petty of Quinn, but she couldn't help but think less of Lux, as though the girl was supposed to defy her expectations and force Quinn to acknowledge what had happened, and how she'd played a part in it.
Lux smiled. "Just look at it this way: I saved you, so now you owe me. Did you visit me every day and bring me flowers, and weep at my bedside?"
"It's only been a day."
"And I don't see any flowers," Lux said, sulking. But just as quickly, she returned to her bright self. "Sit down. I'm glad you're here. You know, I had this silly thought that you might runaway, disappear without even saying goodbye, like you did to me in Demacia."
Quinn forced a smile. "That was an exception."
"Good, good," Lux said, reaching for a pile of envelopes on her bedside table. On the topmost one, 'Ezreal' was written. Lux flipped past it though, scanning the rest of the letters.
"Is Ezreal your boyfriend?" Quinn said. Maybe she needed to treat Lux like LeBlanc, so she would actually think before she spoke.
"Why do you ask?"
"I – uh – I've heard rumours before, but you haven't opened his letter yet. And besides, you asked about my relationship with Prince Jarvan, so I guess I was curious?"
"We've went on dates before," Lux said offhandedly.
"You have?"
"Yes."
"And? You're still dating him, then?"
"What's it to you?" Lux asked, though it wasn't as much a challenge as it sounded like an innocent question.
Quinn hesitated. "We're friends, right? I've got to know what's going on so I can go beat him up if he ever wrongs you."
Lux gave her a big smile. "That's a nice sentiment, but no, we aren't really dating anymore. I don't think he's given up on me, though."
Competition. Quinn shook her head at her first, ridiculous thought. She could feel her ears burning up, but since she'd already broached the topic, there was no reason to back out quite yet.
"Why aren't you dating anymore?"
"I've never really thought about it." Lux hummed. "We just didn't click, I guess? Maybe he's too much like me. Energetic and talkative – and he's also, I don't know, a pacifist? He never argues, and he bends so easily to the will of others. I guess that doesn't appeal to me. Congratulations, by the way. I watched it. The match, that is."
"Thanks," Quinn said, not really meaning it.
"Think about it, Quinn, you have a one hundred percent win rate. Just twenty two more consecutive wins and you beat Jax's record. You'd be known as Gladiator Quinn, and people would stop in the streets to call your name and ask for an autograph."
Quinn gave her the evil eye.
"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. No more jokes. But you really showed them."
"What do you mean?"
"Zaun. They thought they could cheat, and wipe us out before the match so we couldn't help Piltover."
Quinn sighed. "Is that really what you think?"
"Of course. But you stuck with it and taught them a lesson."
If it hadn't been Quinn's house, where Lux had no business being, then her interpretation of the events might have been believable, but as it stood, Lux was avoiding the obvious truth. It had been an assassination attempt, directed at Quinn, just like what had happened in the Demacian capital.
"Alrighty, then," Lux said, satisfied when Quinn made no rebuttal. "Are you ready?"
"Ready? Ready for what?"
"Singed, Warwick, Viktor, or one of Zaun's ambassadors or council members. We're going to figure this out. Whoever blew up your house and tried to kill you will be brought to justice."
"Who nearly killed you," Quinn added, her patience running out. "And what exactly do you mean 'brought to justice'? I'm going to kill them, end of story. Let's not play any games. They were targeting me. There was no reason for you to be at my house. This is my problem, so I'll hunt down whoever it is and kill them."
"That's not right!" Lux said. "You can't play jury, judge, and – and executioner!"
"Judge, jury, and executioner?"
"Yes, that!"
"I won't," Quinn said. "Not the first two roles, at least. There's nothing to judge."
"Saying there's nothing to judge is no different from making a guilty judgement. You can't do that. I won't let you."
"Sometimes it's easy to tell who deserves to die. Trying to kill me? Hurting you? Yes, I'm going to kill him."
"It's never easy!" Lux shouted.
The outburst startled Quinn a little, but she just shook her head. "We disagree on that, then. Let's forget about it. Besides, I don't think I need to worry about the attack right now."
"We," Lux corrected, pulling the sheets up on her bed to cover more of her body. "And why not?"
"Because Ziggs is working on the case." It was true, but she was hardly waiting on Ziggs. LeBlanc's information was the real problem. "Until he comes up with something, there are no solid leads. So, let's wait."
"Where were you before you moved into your house?" Lux said, apparently pretending Quinn hadn't said anything. At least she had silently accepted that it probably wasn't a Zaunite plot.
"I spent a few nights in the forest, and a few in town, at an inn."
"Hmm. If a bomb was their chosen tool, then they could have attacked you while you were at the inn."
"They would have been seen."
"Lots of people pass through inns. They wouldn't be remembered. I'm more inclined to think they didn't want to hurt others. If a bomb was detonated in an inn, lots of innocent people would have been killed. And the fact that they didn't challenge you in the forest meant they know at least a little bit about you, and weren't willing to take that fight. Speaking of places to sleep, where did you sleep last night?"
Out of the corner of Quinn's eye, she noticed movement at the door. The man they had been speaking about only moments before, Ezreal, had his face pressed to the glass. He disappeared a second later, presumably not wanting to interrupt them. It shouldn't have been surprising Lux had another visitor – she'd probably have more, if Garen and the prince hadn't returned to Demacia.
"Piltover headquarters," Quinn said, a little distracted. "Caitlyn wouldn't have it any other way."
Lux didn't seem to have noticed the intrusion. She was staring down at the sheets draped over her, fiddling with her fingers.
"I guess you won't be staying there again, tonight," Lux said. "If you wanted, you could, you know, stay at my place."
The offer surprised Quinn. Lux's place hadn't registered to her as an actual house, but rather a cottage from some fantasy world where the flowers grew in abundance and the deers fed on the grass in the front lawn, next to a well with a miniature roof. Actually sleeping there would force Quinn to recognize it as a part of reality, and destroy her fantastical image of the place. Besides, it would be weird sleeping in Lux's house when Lux wasn't even present – though possibly weirder when she was.
"Thanks for the offer," Quinn said slowly. "But I already have a room at the Institute of War."
That wasn't a lie. Gerrit had caught her on the way from the library. It was under Vessaria's orders that he make the offer, and Quinn had debated saying no, but ultimately decided it didn't matter. If anything, it would save her the cost of renting a room at an inn.
"Oh. Okay," Lux said. "I just thought I should offer."
Peripherally aware of Ezreal waiting outside the door, Quinn quickly searched for another topic. "I wasn't really thinking about it, but what kind of banquet is it supposed to be?"
"Freljordian-"
"That's not what I mean. Is it – uh – formal? Do I have to dress nicely?"
Lux laughed, covering her mouth with a hand when Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Sorry, sorry. I just can't imagine the Institute convincing us to dress as they want. No matter how strong they are, when it comes to us, they do like to choose their fights. Getting Gragas to wear a suit? No – not happening. Definitely not happening. Making Kayle forgo her armour for a long, silky dress? I'd like to see that, but nope. They're even slack on the weapons – though I think that's because banning them would create too much of an imbalance, since some of us don't need sharp objects to kill people."
"Oh," Quinn said. "That's good, I guess. Since we already committed ourselves to going, I was a little apprehensive."
"Well, I'm glad you brought it up. Let's meet me at my place tomorrow at five. The banquet starts at six, but I want to get there early, so I still have time to drop by the Demacian table and say hi."
So much for getting there on her own time. If they were meeting beforehand and going together, it sounded an awfully lot like a date, but Lux obviously didn't see it that way, and thinking so childishly would only embarrass herself.
Though on the same train of thought, how common was it for two friends to go to a restaurant for a fancy dinner? Because it seemed like they had done that quite a bit, recently, and Lux was supposed to be a relatively famous Demacian, who should have been occupied with important social and political meetings.
"Sounds good," Quinn said, still distracted by her thoughts.
"Thanks for dropping by, Quinn. I'm tired now, so I'll rest up for tomorrow. Hopefully they won't try to hold me any longer."
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."
Lux nodded before laying back down and adjusting her sheets up to her neck.
Quinn didn't dally. Switching the lights off, she stepped out of the room and ran immediately into Ezreal – whom she'd forgotten about.
"Oh – uh – Quinn," Ezreal said. "Hi. Hello. You were visiting? How is she?"
"Lux is fine. Tired, though."
"Well, I won't be long," he said, moving towards the door.
Quinn blocked his path. "She's resting now."
"Oh. Huh." He scratched his head, backing off. "Right. Another time, I guess."
They ended up leaving the hospital together, in a silence that Quinn really didn't want to admit was awkward – because she loved silence – but it was, and all the while she was telling herself that she was acting in Lux's best interests, and it wasn't jealousy or anything of the sort that made her deny Ezreal's visit.
Quinn couldn't sleep. She was in a nicer room than the last time she'd spent the night at the Institute, but it made no difference. Sleeping on the floor wouldn't have helped either. The fact of the matter was, she was always restless before social gatherings. Banquets in Demacia demanded elegance from all women present, and that was something Quinn always lacked. Tradition, grace, tact.
A League banquet would be no better.
It could, with a little reflection, be much worse. They wouldn't be sitting at the Demacian table, so if she embarrassed herself, it would be in front of Ionians, and whoever else Karma had invited. Her knowledge of Ionian culture wasn't enough that she couldn't be sure she wouldn't make some faux-pas or another. Just because she'd done passably well when she'd visited Karma for tea didn't mean she was prepared for a banquet.
She rolled off the bed and onto her feet. Sleep wasn't going to come, so she'd need to exercise her legs for a bit and then try again later.
The corridors were quiet. Main hallways had torches lighting the way, but once she wandered off into the smaller, side corridors, the lights only flickered on when she approached them. In a way, it was like they were lighting the path ahead of her, leading her somewhere unknown. Nobody else wandered the corridors, and it seemed the further she went, the fewer doors there were.
Ultimately, she ended up somewhere familiar. The portrait of the Liv River, separating snow and flowers. There was no rose scent. LeBlanc had been the source of the smell, but this time there was no one stalking her.
Without a watch, Quinn didn't know how much time had passed before she was interrupted. Footsteps, from one end of the hall. She turned to watch. A woman was approaching, but she looked alien. Gliding across the floor – not hovering, like Janna could, but literally sliding as though the ground were ice – her skin was pale blue and her eyes unmoving, as though she were simply a statue on wheels. Her neck was long and thin, and her fingers were more like blades, completely unwieldy at first glance, and dangerous at second.
Unfamiliar, yet an obviously powerful being. It was Lissandra, undoubtedly. Torches on the wall flickered, trying to light her path as she approached, but most failed, and only a few lit small flames. It was just barely enough to see the woman.
Quinn stood off to the side, next to the painting, and for a moment she thought she wasn't even seen. Lissandra didn't turn her head as she moved past, freezing the air around them. Her eyes were focused ahead, on some unknown destination.
"Child," Lissandra said, without inflection.
And then she was past Quinn. Her hair, like blades of frozen grass, was the last thing Quinn saw, as the woman rounded the corner and disappeared. For the next few minutes, the air was still cold and her breaths foggy. Eventually, the goosebumps left her arms and she rubbed her fingers together, appreciating the heat's return.
Was it supposed to be an insult? Was it even directed at her? Quinn didn't know. With one last glance towards the River of Life, Quinn returned to her room.
That night, she had a new twist on an old nightmare. Quinn dreamt of mommy Lissandra and big sister LeBlanc congratulating her, when she brought her brother's corpse back. The father was missing, but she could extrapolate. It would've been Thresh, if her dream had went on any longer.
Not for the first time, Quinn considered disappearing. Karma would be offended – Lux, too – but then it would be impossible for her to do anything else wrong, which might be better in the long run. They were idle thoughts, though, because her feet were already walking along the roads to Demacia Avenue. The banquet would begin in just over an hour.
Her walk to Lux's house wasn't, however, without interruption.
She heard a mechanical whirr, and stopped, looking around the streets. It was a familiar sound, though one she hadn't heard in awhile. She looked around at the houses. Most had their blinds closed, but it was between the buildings she cared about. It didn't take long before the man peeked out again, and when he saw her looking at him, he disappeared again in a flash.
Making sure nobody was around watching, Quinn pursued. She caught him easily enough, in an alley between two Demacian houses. It had been impossible for the man to make it far, because of the bulky thing he was carrying. He was thin and wore a bowler hat and suit, as though looking professional could excuse his actions. His eyes were wide, bulging things that made Quinn feel like the villain.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
He fidgeted, passing his camera from hand to hand. "I – uh – I was – I work for the Senta Herald."
"The what now?"
"The newspaper," he said, forgetting to be terrified. "Come on now, everyone knows the Senta Herald – it's shipped as far as Bandle City."
Quinn noticed his gaze, and she had the violent urge to destroy his camera. "No taking pictures of me."
"I can take pictures of whomever I please."
It seemed like it took him an entire five seconds to realize Quinn wasn't the kind of person who would kill someone who annoyed her, and now he was showing his true colours. Immediately, Quinn took a disliking to him, and she funneled her nervousness spawned by the banquet into anger.
"You can't if you drop your camera," she said.
"I'm not going to drop it," he said, though he recoiled mid-speech as he realized the implication. Protective hands hugged the camera to his chest "You – you can't."
"What's your name?" Quinn said.
"Benjamin."
"Well, Benjamin – eyes up here." He was a pervert, not even trying to hide the fact, and again the urge to destroy his camera had to be fought off. "Hand the pictures over."
"No!" He took a few steps back, but Quinn closed the gap instantly.
"The pictures or the entire thing. I don't care which, your choice. You have three seconds."
She didn't need to start counting. He relented almost as soon as he heard his time limit. Quinn didn't know the going price of the camera, but it must have been a lot. A few years ago, cameras didn't even exist that could take a picture and then instantly develop it and print it out.
"This is unacceptable," he said as he was handing over a stack of pictures, the topmost of which featured Lux entering her house, completely unaware she was being watched. "I have the right to take pictures – it's my job."
"That's too bad, because if I see you doing your job again today, you'll drop your camera." She pocketed the pictures, planning to rip them up and toss them in the first garbage can she came across. "Now scram."
He moved, still hugging his camera closely. Quinn waited a minute, and then exited the alley.
Even with the delay, she managed to arrive nearly five minutes early, and she was surprised to see Lux already standing on her patio. The girl didn't notice her approach, and was instead staring up at her wind chime, seemingly fascinated by it. There was no wind, so it wasn't moving or making any sounds, but still, Lux wore an aloof expression as she watched it intently. The obliviousness would have made her easy prey for the photographer, who claimed – yet didn't fully convince Quinn – that he worked for the newspaper.
Rather than immediately interrupt whatever was so intriguing to Lux, she waited.
Lux had told her there was no need to dress fancy, but she had ignored her own advice. She wore a sleeveless black dress that hugged tightly against her body, and when it occurred to Quinn that she was probably staring at Lux in much the same way Benjamin had, she cleared her throat.
"Lux," she said, drawing the girl's attention away from the wind chime.
Lux smiled, raising her arm to wave, and Quinn's breath was temporarily stolen away.
It wasn't a date, Quinn told herself. That would be nonsense. Be calm, and casual. They were both Demacians attending a banquet held by an international organization which pursued peace throughout Runeterra. Despite this, Quinn managed to conjure up the most clichéd greeting possible.
"Were you waiting long?"
Lux giggled, making Quinn regret the words. Why was her brain so intent on embarrassing her?
"No, not at all," Lux said. "Let's go?"
Together – though not with crossed arms or hands held, as Quinn's imagination had somehow conjured up – the two of them began walking to the Institute.
It was subtle, but Quinn kept stealing glances at the girl walking beside her. She tried to suppress her desire to stare, but failed every time. Lux's hair, her cheek, her shoulder, her bare arm, the dress's fabric against her hips – really, anything Quinn could see from where she walked – all kept drawing her attention, and yet with every stolen glance, she wasn't ever satisfied. Finally, her subtlety perhaps forgotten, Lux caught her staring.
"You look really nice," Quinn blurted out. It was probably too much honesty, and she quickly looked away. If only she could be attacked by time magic again, like at her introduction, so she could redo the past five minutes and not sound so idiotic.
"Thank you," Lux said, smiling. "But you can just say beautiful, you know?"
"I know I can," Quinn deadpanned, trying to reclaim some of her lost dignity.
Lux mock gasped. "Are you saying I'm not?"
"You're not modest, at the very least. And I thought you said we didn't have to dress up."
"We don't. I wanted to, and knew you wouldn't want to."
"You tricked me, then."
"This is fine, isn't it? Besides, it's who we are. If I don't play my part as a Crownguard, Garen will have some stern words for me."
"Garen?" Quinn said. "Why should you care about what your brother thinks?"
"Because he thinks the same as my parents, and everyone else."
"And what, you're afraid of upsetting your parents?"
When she noticed Lux pressing her lips together, Quinn realized she had hit the mark – a little more crudely than she had intended.
"Well, whatever," she quickly continued. "I think you just wanted to be taller than me."
Lux looked Quinn up and down, showing no signs of hurt or anger. "It is nice to be the same height, for once."
Suddenly, conversation seemed so difficult to create. The passing thought of commenting on the weather was quickly dismissed – nothing could be more desperate than that. Thankfully, Lux did what she usually did, and took over the conversation, describing the foods she had heard would be at the banquet. Fiora had dropped by the hospital earlier that day, and brought with her rumours that made it sound like they would be eating like kings and queens, at the banquet.
"Are you ready?" Lux said when they approached the top of the Institute's hill.
"Ready?" Quinn said. "For what?"
"The cameras. From here until the gates, we're being broadcast live to the entire city. So just look forward, smile, and keep walking."
"Smile?"
"Look forward and keep walking, then. I'll smile, you put on your tough girl act. It'll be over in a moment. They're all swarming out here to get their shots, since they aren't allowed into the actual banquet."
"Should've come even earlier, then."
"They've probably been camped here for hours. Let's go."
Lux was right. But there were more than reporters with cameras and floating orbs recording the scene. A rope blocked off the crowd of people, wherein adults and children were cheering and shouting. By coincidence, a group of champions were just in front of them and it was, by all accounts, the oddest group Quinn had ever seen.
Two Yordles – Tristana and Teemo – were waving energetically to the crowd, and walking next to them, Nidalee, a dark skinned woman from the Kumungu jungle. She was dressed in rags and furs, but had a certain rugged beauty to her. Over the noise of the crowd, Quinn couldn't hear them, but Tristana and Nidalee seemed to be involved in a fragmented conversation.
Fortunately, the trio of champions were drawing everyone's attention, and Lux and Quinn were able to walk straight past.
"Quinn!"
Quinn was sick of her name being shouted by strangers, but as she turned around, her annoyance was forgotten in an instance.
A woman was running towards her, and not slowing down, and Quinn saw long white hair and startlingly sharp cyan eyes, like that seen in the water's of a pristine glacier lake, and then she was tackled and sent stumbling several steps back. Strong arms wrapped around her, and unable to understand why she was being hugged so tightly, Quinn stiffened.
The hug was comforting – perhaps because it had been so long since she'd had one, and so she didn't struggle, though she was acutely aware of the woman's breasts pressing against her chest. A few moments passed, wherein someone from the crowd wolf-whistled, and then Quinn saw Lux staring at them, open mouth, and came to her senses. She frantically disentangled herself from the woman and pushed her to arm's length.
The woman wore a white, short skirted dress, and emblazoned on the sleeves of her dress, in gold, a familiar emblem. She was smiling warmly at Quinn.
"It's been awhile," the woman said with a ghost of a smile. She exuded confidence and seemed to be excited yet holding herself back.
"Get away from Quinn," Lux said through clenched teeth. "That's no way to act on live television."
"Oh – right," the woman said, looking around, a little off-put. "It's just been so long. I'm sorry, Lux, I'm sorry, Quinn. Please forgive me."
Along with her apology, she made a small bow. Paparazzi cameras blinded them with flashes, the trio of Nidalee, Tristana, and Teemo forgotten.
A heartbeat passed as Quinn stared blankly. A second ago, she had assumed the woman was Ashe, one of the three contenders for Queen of Freljord – but they hadn't ever met before.
"Uh – I'm sorry," Quinn said. "I think you're mistaking me with someone else. You're... Ashe, aren't you?"
The woman nodded, though she grew a little more tense. "I'm not mistaking you with anyone else. How many purpled hair Demacians named Quinn – with a grossly misguided preference for crossbows – do you think there are?"
The jab at her choice of weapon annoyed Quinn more than she'd have expected. "We've never met before," Quinn asserted.
"You don't remember?"
"Remember what?"
Ashe slapped her forehead and let out a nervous, humorless laugh. "I'm such a fool. All these years, and I didn't forget so I thought you wouldn't, either, but I guess it never meant anything to you."
Quinn spared a glance towards Lux, as if expecting her to be able to clear matters up. Lux somehow had the audacity to glare at her, as though it was Quinn's fault, and Quinn realized there would be no help in that direction.
"I'm sorry," Quinn finally said. "All these years? Can you explain?"
"Seven years ago, though I remember it quite clearly, even with everything that's happened since then. We were pretty different back then, I suppose. A lot less wary, a lot more carefree."
Quinn tried to set her mind back seven years. Before she had met Valor. It was a period of time where she'd felt lost, having just left home and not knowing where to go. Every night had been spent in a different place, sometimes in the forest, sometimes in a farmer's barn, and occasionally, when it was warmer, a field where she could watch the stars in the night sky.
Her memory of those times wasn't perfect. She could remember being chased out of inns and taverns, stealing carrots from the frosty dirt, and hiding in alleys as pursuers stalked past, but she would be hard pressed to say exactly when these events happened, or put the memories in any sort of chronological order. If she had supposedly met Ashe around that time, then it would have been somewhere in the north...
The Nadir Coin.
The events came rushing back to her, and the memory of a young girl, exotic looking and proud with an almost annoying sense of humor – yet dependable when things turned serious – came back to her.
"Ashe," she said, testing the name on her tongue.
"You remember?"
"I'd forgotten your name," Quinn admitted. Staring at Ashe now, she couldn't believe the girl from her memories and the woman standing in front of her were one and the same.
"But you remember?" Ashe said, smiling.
It was with mixed feelings that Quinn responded. "Yeah. I remember."
A/N: Insight chapter next. Yuri recommendation: Guiding Light, a League fanfiction, which, in all honesty, I expect 99% of my readers have already read (I know I have, 3 times).