The dessert course left Quinn speechless.
Without warning, it all appeared in front of her. Chocolate dipped frozen cheesecake, chocolate dipped strawberries, and caramel apples. One of the platters consisted of pure chocolate – raw chunks of dark and white chocolate intermixed, of differing shapes and sizes. Another platter featured doughnuts – something she'd never had before, but their glazed tops made them irresistible and she quickly loaded her plate with a couple.
There were chocolate covered bananas, too, with multi-coloured sprinkles on top. Sarah attempted to eat one in a single bite and ended up choking, and somehow Caitlyn thought it would be a good idea to try and copy her, and in the subsequent minutes, their table drew too many stares for Quinn's liking.
The highlight of the dessert course were the large pretzels, dipped in icing sugar and drizzled with chocolate, with white snowflake sprinkles on top. Karma, who had yet to touch any desserts, even had one. Quinn ate three before she could stop herself, and had to promise herself she would get proper exercise tomorrow, no matter how lazy the banquet made her feel.
"Shaved ice?" Irelia said, questioning one of the platters. "Anyone have the heart to tell them they're five months early for Snowdown?"
Caitlyn grabbed one of the blue lumps of ice in a cone. "Can you just imagine what the last week of the year is going to be like? Snowdown, and then the tenth anniversary of the League? They're going to need – so – much – chocolate. Oh, hey, Quinn? Have you heard from Ziggs?"
"Ziggs? No, not recently. Has he found something?"
Caitlyn nodded, pausing to take a bite out of her doughnut and then shaved ice. "He says he's made a breakthrough, but wouldn't tell me anything. Pisses me off, considering I was the one who hired him, but I guess you're the one who deserves to know. He said he wouldn't even tell Lux, and then he zipped his lips – literally, did the zipping motion – and wouldn't say anything else to me."
"I see." Quinn would have to hunt him down later. "By the way, I don't think I ever properly thanked you for getting Ziggs' assistance – so, thank you."
"No problem," Caitlyn said. "If you had a bomb maniac at your disposal, and someone blew up Vi, you'd help me, right?"
"I-"
"Actually, no. Please don't go hunting for the bomber if that happens. If someone tries to kill Vi, it'll probably be me, trying to get myself a few days of peace and quiet around the office."
Taric approached their table, and Quinn took a sip of her drink, wearily watching. He tapped Lux on the shoulder.
"A minute of your time?" he said.
Lux nodded, suddenly turning serious as she excused herself from the table, leaving behind a half eaten slice of cheesecake on her plate.
Janna was in a foul mood, and Akali was in conversation with Miss Fortune and Caitlyn – something about Ionian versus Piltovian manufactured bras – so Quinn figured it was as good of a time as any to attempt a conversation with Irelia. The two of them hadn't spoken before, though they'd seen each other on a few occasions.
"Irelia? Is something wrong?" Quinn said when a dark look crossed the woman's face.
Irelia stared at the empty seat beside her for a moment. "I was hoping Syndra would come," she finally said. "I asked her to, but I guess she doesn't care..."
"Syndra? You mean the Dark Sovereign – that crazy strong, evil mage?"
Irelia scowled. "She's not a bad person. Her powers may be dark and – and, yes, dangerous, but she only has her reputation because people treat her that way."
"You're on talking terms with her?"
"Yes – and don't sound so surprised. She's not like a Voidborn, or Shadow Islander. She's human – or was. If she'd had a little better of an upbringing, she'd be just like you or me."
"I see," Quinn said. "Well, don't worry about it. It's the Freljord banquet – she doesn't have any ties to the nation, so you can't blame her for not caring about it."
Irelia sighed.
Quinn's attempt at reassuring the Ionian had apparently failed, and she moved to a topic that was much overdue.
"Irelia," she said. "I've been meaning to ask you about the Unwilling Passengers."
The woman's eyes shone with interest, her mood changing in an instant. "You've fought them before, haven't you?"
Quinn nodded.
"Then you can tell – their souls are still there, trapped and helpless."
It was true. If she closed her eyes, she would probably be able to see the tears and blood dripping from their terrified eyes. Because of their humanoid nature, they were easily ranked as the worst foe Quinn had ever fought.
"I was wondering about them. Their capabilities, and their motives – if they have any," Quinn said. "Janna explained them to me a little bit, but I feel like I'm missing something."
"Missing something? They're pretty straightforward."
"She said they open portals in the wake of tornadoes."
"And sometimes other natural disasters," Irelia added. "Anything that makes the environment less stable."
"That's it? No exceptions?"
"Such as?"
Quinn hesitated. She knew what she had experienced, but would Irelia believe her? "Like a portal opening up near someone in a forest, and an Unwilling Passenger trying to drag that someone through into their dimension.
Irelia gasped. "Did that happen to you? Then, it's true?"
"What's true?" Quinn said, irritated.
"Did this happen recently? And you fought them before that, didn't you?"
"Yes. Now could you please explain?"
"Did they ever hurt you? Cut you, make you bleed?"
Quinn touched her stomach. "I still have the scar."
Irelia fist pumped. "Proof!"
"Of what?"
"Unwilling Passengers never attack places inhabited by humans. It's always in between settlements, so they never meet any real resistance. Because of that, nobody – aside from you, now – has ever been hurt by an Unwilling Passenger and survived. On a few occasions, there's a rumour someone fought them and escaped alive, but shortly afterwards, they go missing."
Quinn had nearly went 'missing', too.
"And since their numbers never seem to be decreasing, no matter how many of them Janna kills, the horde needs to be restocking itself in some way."
Quinn looked around for a garbage can. She had eaten too much, and throwing up at the table wouldn't make a good impression on anyone present. "So I'm an incomplete job," she said. "They want to bring me back to their dimension, tear my heart out, break my jaw, and sew my mouth shut."
Irelia nodded, her happiness at odds with Quinn.
"That doesn't explain why they don't just kill me," Quinn said, trying to find another explanation, like that the Unwilling Passengers just wanted to show her their dimension, share some tea, and reminisce about their battle in the swamp.
"They kill enough already – the ones who don't survive their attacks. A dead person can't become one of them. You know how it is, don't you? When someone dies, their soul leaves forever. The Unwilling Passengers – their souls are trapped in their body, and they're left a small measure of control – eye movement, generally. You can think of it as a disease, or – or weeds that grow over the soul, restricting its abilities."
"And so they're going to keep trying to kidnap me? How can they even know where I am?"
"You've been marked," Irelia said simply. "Your scar isn't a normal scar."
"If I've been marked, why wasn't it ever detected? I was tested for dark magic multiple times since I arrived in Senta."
"It's not dark magic, though. It's more like an anchor. Dimensional magic isn't something that's well understood, but it's not inherently dark, and as long as it's done properly, nor is it dangerous."
"Yes," Quinn said, bitterness slipping into her voice. "Passengers leaping out at me from portals certainly isn't dangerous."
Irelia sighed. "Inherently, I said. Look, I'm sorry you've been caught up in all of this – but don't let it go to waste. This is an opportunity. If we can reverse engineer the anchor magic, then we'll have access to the Unwilling Passengers' dimension, and from there, we'll stand a lot better of a chance curing them."
It was easy for her to say, Quinn thought. Living, while knowing she had some mysterious, magical connection to another dimension? It didn't appeal to her. Sure, she wanted to explore the world, and those places beyond it, but she would forgo a dimension of zombies in favour of one with fields of flowers, any day.
"Then why have they only tried once?" Quinn said. "Why don't they just do it tonight, when I'm sleeping?"
"That's more to do with dimensional magic. The Unwilling Passengers are only so powerful, and opening a portal near people, without the help of a natural disaster, is difficult. You were alone when it happened, right? As long as you're around other people, the resistance will be too great for them to attack. Not to mention, it's too demanding of a task to do it again so soon."
It was in line with Karma's tasseomancy, though Quinn knew she shouldn't put too much stock in divination.
She stood up, and Irelia watched her questioningly.
"I'm going to grab a drink at the bar," she explained, though really she just wanted to distance herself from the problem.
Alcohol wasn't handled conventionally, at the banquet. Waiters could take orders for simpler drinks, if the champion didn't mind waiting, but the bar had stools to sit at, for those who wanted a different atmosphere, and the bartender mixed the drinks and served them directly, for the impatient, or simply those who knew they would be wanting immediate refills. Still, most champions preferred socializing at the tables, where the lighting was better and the food and company plentiful.
When she sat at the bar, she didn't know what she wanted, but the bartender didn't bother her. He continued wiping the already-clean counter, a repetitive action that he probably could have done for the rest of the night, without stopping or becoming bored.
Someone sat next to Quinn.
"I never found it again."
"It?" Quinn said, looking up to see Ashe's tired face.
Ashe ordered a drink, and they waited in silence as the bartender prepared it. When he was done and pushed it across the counter to Ashe, she slid it over to Quinn.
"It's good," Ashe reassured her, before returning to the original subject. "I had searched and searched, rappelled down ravines and climbed mountains, dragged out expeditions and nearly lost men in blizzards. It's like it never existed."
Quinn took a sip of the drink. It was rum based, and largely diluted by water and ice.
"Freljord specialty. What do you think?"
"It's okay," Quinn said.
Ashe ordered one for herself, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping at their drinks. Nobody interrupted them, but a few champions passed by on their way to get more liquor. They collected more than enough stares to feel uncomfortable, but Quinn found herself caring less and less, as she continued tending to her drink.
"We didn't dream it," Quinn finally said.
"No, we didn't."
"And there was no wonky space-bending magic involved," she continued, more confident with this statement than the previous.
Ashe didn't respond. She must have been expecting a conclusion – something to justify her failures and successes – but Quinn wasn't going anywhere with what she was saying.
"But it was there when we needed it," Quinn said slowly, a full minute later. "And if you ask me, it doesn't feel right to go there again – not intentionally, not when we don't need it. If an earthquake shifted the earth and buried the place forever, I would be fine with it. As heavenly as it seemed, we were kids – easily awed. I wouldn't want to go searching for it and find it, only to discover it's not like I remember."
Ashe didn't respond, and instead finished her drink with several determined gulps.
Quinn finished her drink a short while later, and wordlessly, Ashe ordered them both another. A Stalactite, she'd heard Ashe call it. Quite fitting, as it stabbed at her throat on the way down like cold icicles.
She wouldn't complain, though. Maybe alcohol would serve as a good escape – that was the reason she'd moved from the table to the bar, no? And it seemed to be social convention, at the banquet, to drink as much alcohol as one could. Since it was closed to the public, the champions were acting more brazen than usual – as she'd seen first hand, on multiple occasions – and she had no reason to be any different.
"Thank you," Ashe said, as she passed over the second drink.
It struck her as funny, Ashe thanking her when it should have been the other way around, but then she realized it might have been continuation of their earlier conversation. Quinn had given her a satisfactory answer, perhaps.
"It's funny how quickly I was willing to let my life change," Ashe said. "Because of you, I didn't have to marry a stranger. I was able to meet and fall in love with a man on my own accord. To know that I almost missed out on something like that, and how easily I was willing to let it pass – well – it's terrifying. But that's life, isn't it? So all I can really say is thank you."
Quinn nodded.
"Who would've thought we'd both be here, seven years later?" Ashe said, cupping her glass.
"Definitely not me," Quinn chuckled. She'd taken a wrong turn somewhere in life, to end up at the League of Legends, hunted by zombies.
"I don't know if you know already, but I'm engaged to Tryndamere."
Did Quinn know? She didn't know if she knew. Now she did.
Ashe now turned to face her. "We aren't getting married anytime soon, because of the instability of Freljord and... well, this might be presumptuous of me, but you'll come to the wedding, won't you? I know you had forgotten all about me, but I didn't get along very well with the other children of the tribe, because of my family's status, and so I really enjoyed the time we spent together, and now – I don't know if you believe in fate or not – but here we are, drinking in the Institute's banquet hall."
"Sure, I'll come," Quinn said, almost feeling sorry for Ashe.
The woman smiled, before looking back towards all the tables.
"People probably think we're talking politics," Ashe said, her distaste obvious. "It's always politics this politics that, but sometimes it's nice to unwind and forget about things, isn't it?"
"Sure."
"We should hang out later, away from this kind of crowd. You know – not as champions, but just as two women who have seven years of catching up to do."
"Yeah," Quinn nodded, thankful that Ashe was probably already tipsy enough to not notice her apathy.
It wasn't long after Ashe returned to the Freljord table that the vacant seat next to her become occupied once again.
Clutching her long, pointed witch's hat, a Yordle clambered up onto the stool. Her skin was only a shade paler than Soraka's, and she was humming a chaotic, yet happy tune as she wiggled around on the stool, searching for a comfortable position. Once that was complete, she looked around at her surroundings and frowned, as though it wasn't where she had expected to find herself. The frown disappeared just as quickly as it had shown, and she took her hat off and set it on the counter.
"Purple," Lulu told the bartender.
The man hesitated at the casual, yet confident order, and stared at her for a few seconds. She didn't elaborate. With an audible sigh, he began mixing a drink. His actions were disordered as he reached for different bottles, setting some aside upon reflection, and ultimately mixing a handful of liquids that turned out purple. He passed it over and then busied himself with cleaning up the mess he'd made, but it was obvious his attention was still focused on the Yordle.
Lulu placed a finger on the rim of the glass, and traced along it counterclockwise three times. It made a pleasant ringing sound, and when the sound finally quieted, she took a generous gulp of the drink.
"Yup," she announced. "That tasted purple."
The bartender looked absurdly proud with himself, and it made Quinn crack a grin.
"Another purple," Lulu said, before casting a glance towards Quinn. "For the purple."
Quinn ran a hand through her hair, holding back a sigh. Had a Yordle just ordered her a mysterious drink? At least with Ashe, it was safe. Maybe she should follow Vessaria's lead, and dye her hair brown.
"You're the Quinn named Demacian, aren't you?" Lulu said.
With every passing second, she questioned her life's decisions.
"I'm Quinn, yes," she responded.
"And a tulip?"
"I – uh-"
The bartender passed her a replica of Lulu's drink, an expression of pity and entertainment on his face. Quinn took the drink and didn't wait. A cautious sip revealed a fruity flavour, and she quickly took another sip. Watermelon wasn't purple, but that's what she tasted, and it wasn't bad. The cocktail was much easier to down than Ashe's Stalactite, so she drank without restrain. Besides, a loose tongue would help the upcoming conversation.
"Have you ever ridden a horse?" Lulu said.
"Yes," Quinn said, thankful for the coherent question.
"Did the horse have horseshoes?"
"Yes."
Lulu nodded to herself, apparently satisfied. "I thought so. And tulips above horses? Forever?"
Quinn eyed her drink. Had she already had too much? If she hadn't already met Ziggs, she would be questioning her sanity, but instead, she was questioning the sanity of the Yordle race.
"Yes," she said, testing the waters.
"Because they were moving and flowering. I will see, too."
"Are you sure?"
"If tulips weren't, I would be concerned."
"Alright," Quinn said, feeling she was getting the hang of things. "But if tulips were?"
"Haven't you heard?"
The bartender was not-so-subtly watching them, his face twisted in confusion. Quinn's conversational ability was top notch, and it was her turn to feel proud.
"Killing is bad," Lulu said.
"It's not good," Quinn conceded.
Hopefully she hadn't just invited Lulu to kill someone. Prince Jarvan had explicitly requested them not to start a world war.
Lulu finished the rest of her drink in silence, grabbed her hat, and hopped off her chair.
"Goodnight, friend," she said as she left the bar.
Had that just been her easiest, or hardest, conversation of the night? It might have been time to call it quits, before the alcohol really did any damage.
Only a couple minutes later did Quinn and the bartender realize the complication Lulu had left behind. A purple, four winged moth was fluttering around inside her empty glass. They stared at it in disbelief.
"A faerie?" the man said.
Quinn leaned forward and looked down into the cup. The moth had a purple, humanoid body with small arms and legs, and yes, the moth was probably not a moth at all. It was probably a faerie named Pix, happily drinking up the remnants of the purple drink still coated on the glass.
As Quinn finished her purple drink, she became surrounded. On her left, Nidalee took a seat, not paying any attention to her. On her right, at the exact same time, Tristana climbed up onto the stool and sat. They didn't order drinks, and the silence was foreboding. It felt like her personal space was being invaded.
Quinn pushed her empty glass away, and moved to stand up, but it was then when Tristana and Nidalee simultaneously turned to her. Even if she hadn't seen them talking outside, earlier, she would have known something was up.
"Quinn," Tristana said, offering her hand. "We haven't had the opportunity-"
The Yordle yelped, quickly withdrawing her hand and bailing off the stool. In a heartbeat, she and Nidalee were gone, and Quinn was left sitting in shock – and slight relief – at being abandoned so suddenly.
"The League hasn't always had such high standards," a hard voice said.
Quinn turned, blinking a few times in the face of the new arrival, who had scared off the Yordle and shapeshifter. Sejuani wasn't as tall and imposing, up close, as when she was standing at the front of the room talking in a commanding voice or when she rode Bristle into battle on the Summoner's Rift, but that wasn't to say she looked weak – her tight set jaw and perpetual frown made her look ready for a fight to break out at any second. She wasn't wearing her helmet, but she was donned in the rest of her battle-worn dark silver armour.
"You know Demacia isn't going to support Ashe," Sejuani continued. "I don't know what kind of relationship you have with her-"
"I don't," Quinn interrupted.
"-but she's a pushover. She's weak, and if Demacia crawls out of their shell, they'll see their only choice is me. You drink that?" Sejuani suddenly said, pointing to the mug that once held Stalactite. "I can smell it from here – that's their drink. It's weak. You shouldn't be drinking such a girly drink, if you want people to take you seriously. Bartender, two Gelid Estates, please."
He must have been prepared for the order, because he was reaching for the bottle of rum before she'd even finished speaking. Apparently, sitting at the bar was an invitation for people to order her drinks – perhaps it was a thing with League banquets, and she wished someone would have warned her.
Sejuani took her drink, grimaced as she took a large sip, and then slammed it down on the table, sloshing the drink and spilling some of it. Quinn was a little more cautious of the whole affair, taking a small sip of first – the drink was warm, undiluted by water, and had a hint of honey and nutmeg. The higher concentration of rum in the drink made her think it was the kind of drink Gragas, Jax, and Sarah liked.
"I suggest you think carefully about Freljord's situation," Sejuani said.
"It has nothing to do with me."
"You're wrong. Prince Jarvan listens to you, and the king listens to him. Indirectly, you could influence Demacia's decision. And there's at least one other advisor to the king who supports Winter's Claw. The king can be convinced – it's no matter to take lightly."
Sejuani left a short while later, much to Quinn's relief. She didn't want to think about Freljord at all. It was certainly no matter to take lightly, and for her, it shouldn't have been a matter to take at all. The politicians, magicians, and patricians of Demacia should be the ones to worry about it, she told herself. Not some farmer turned soldier turned champion.
A gentle tap on the shoulder made her turn around.
"I've been watching you," Lux said, swaying slightly on the spot before finding a seat on a stool. "You – you've got all these pretty girls approaching you, and you're forgetting about us."
"Us?" Quinn said, quickly forgetting the dilemma which Sejuani had brought her.
"Come back to the table to drink. I don't like there being nobody between me and Akali."
"Oh. Right." She hopped off her stool, sparing one last glance at the faerie in a cup. It didn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon, and the bartender kept giving it nervous, troubled glances. "Let's go, then."
It was probably for the best. If the pattern were to continue, Lissandra would be sitting next to her in a few minutes, forcing her to drink some five century old rum that incinerated her internal organs.
It was only when she returned to the table that the enormity of her situation hit her. The alcohol helped make her more receptive to the facts, of course, but it was still ludicrous. She was the child of a farmer and a baker. From nothing, with nothing, she had somehow made it into a room with the most powerful people on Runeterra, and she was supposedly one of them.
In reality, she wasn't. She was a fake, who had caught the prince's eye, and then who had visited Door of Acceptance on a good day – it had all been a fluke, and completely undeserved.
She was sitting with nobles, princesses, vampires, undead, with the most beautiful women she had ever seen, and the ugliest of men, and angels – from both ends of the spectrum – and with mythical, monstrous beings that shouldn't even have existed. She had seen a faerie for the first time ever, and in mere minutes had accepted the fact that she was drinking at the same counter as one.
The absurdity didn't stop there. An alarmingly large number of the champions present didn't even need sustenance in the form of food, and eating was a luxury – a pastime – for them. Some were probably incapable of becoming inebriated, some were known for their drinking, and others were so dedicated to a cause that they wouldn't indulge in alcohol in the first place.
Jax, the paragon of champions, turned out to be all that was needed to shake Quinn's conviction. He jumped up onto the Ionian table, swinging his lamppost around in the air and causing all the nearby champions to shirk back.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he shouted, pausing only for the loudest burp Quinn had ever heard. "It is time to once and for all determine who among us is the strongest."
The proclamation earned wary stares from the Summoners, but they didn't move to interfere. They didn't need to. Instead, Master Yi, Varus, and Lee Sin leapt up and wrestled him down.
"Very well," he shouted in the midst of the struggle. "Three against one is an honourable loss!"
There was nothing honourable about his loss, as far as Quinn could tell. But still, just as quickly as the interruption had arrived, it ended, and Karma hadn't batted an eye during the whole ordeal – maybe it was a commonplace thing, and she had been expecting it and trusting the Ionian men to defuse the situation. Still, Quinn had thought Jax would be able to hold his liquor slightly better, considering he often drank with Gragas.
"Did Taric have anything important to say?" Quinn asked Lux, hoping to ground herself a little better in reality.
"They're all leaving us," Lux said, her eyes locked on the last chocolate pretzel.
"What?"
"Shyvana has been in the capital for weeks, then the prince and my brother left, and now Fiora is going back to the capital tonight."
Lux reached for the last pretzel – the chocolate would help cheer her up – but another hand met hers halfway.
"Mine," Lux said, like a little kid.
Sarah glared at her. "Clearly not. If it was yours, we wouldn't be in a standoff."
"A standoff?" Lux said, her eyes sparkling.
"Let's settle this cleanly," Sarah backtracked. "A coin toss – heads, I win, tails, you lose."
Lux nodded vigorously, the idea of a fair game clearly appealing to her. "Alright. Let's do this."
Sarah fished out a Demacian gold coin from her pocket. She flipped it into the air, caught it, and slapped it down on the back of her hand.
"Heads," she said, revealing it with a smile. "The pretzel is mine."
"No! That was rigged," Lux said. "Again! You – you flipped it wrongly. Let me flip the coin."
Sarah handed the coin over. "Go ahead, then."
Lux flicked it into the air, and missed catching it by several inches. It fell to the table, where she stared at it dumbly.
"Tails... I lose?" she finally said. "Dammit, the coin is rigged. Fine, I didn't want the stupid pretzel."
"I don't think the coin is the problem, here," Akali whispered.
Sarah reached for the pretzel, but a loud shout at the front of the room saved Lux from the distress of watching it being eaten.
"Who did it?"
The words echoed through the room and everyone stopped what they were doing. At the front of the room, Sejuani roared. This earned much more reaction than Jax's stunt.
"I said, who did it?" she yelled.
Vessaria was the quickest to move, closing the distance to Sejuani before any of the other Summoners, but in seconds the rest followed suit, subtly forming a wall between the Freljordian and the rest of the room. After pacifying her, the group at the front of the room began a hushed conversation. News quickly trickled through champions and Summoners alike, until it reached their table. Someone had stolen Sejuani's helmet.
A large part of the room turned their attention towards the Yordle table. Fizz stood up, raising his hands in the air with the most innocent look a fish-boy could make. He was empty handed, and there wasn't anywhere he could hide a helmet.
"Wait a second," someone said. "Fizz isn't a Yordle – what's he even doing at their table?"
"Wukong, where's Wukong?"
"He's already left. What about one of the Freljordians? Trundle is cunning-"
"No, he's stupid – and you're stupid – they're allies. I bet it was one of the Summoners. Nobody notices them."
"They notice each other, though. It had to have been someone invisible. Is Evelynn still here?"
"What would she want with Sejuani's helmet?"
"What would anyone want with her helmet?"
Gradually, the chatter died down and people returned to their desserts, but the crowd at the front of the room didn't dissolve, and there was still a little more excitement in the room, as if they had been waiting for something big like the theft to happen.
Lux giggled, and though she couldn't have had anything to do with Sejuani's missing helmet, it still concerned Quinn.
"Why are you so happy?" Quinn whispered.
"Because I won," she said. Below the table, and out of sight, she showed Quinn a gold coin, before pocketing it.
Sarah was eating her pretzel, oblivious to her loss.
Conversation flowed easily as the night drew on. As was hinted towards earlier, the topic made its way to relationships, and Quinn shrank back in her seat, hoping nobody would ask her any questions. She had killed men, but never kissed them. Never even came close. As a runaway, survival had always been a higher priority than falling in love, and she'd seen how unpleasant men could be, over the years.
She had never really thought about it, but if she had to choose, well, there were plenty of beautiful women sitting at the table who she wouldn't have any problem with. But being slightly inebriated at a banquet for champions – on the outset of a tournament to determine the queen of a foreign land – was not the place to begin questioning her sexuality. For now, being friends with beautiful women sounded like a beautiful idea.
"What about you, Karma?" Sarah said. "How does it work, being the Duchess of Ionia? Are you just going to be handed some guy and told to deal with it, or are you doomed to a life of maidenhood, or something?"
"Though the council and my advisors discourage relationships, they will not get in the way of love," Karma said, taking the question in stride. "That being said, I've yet to find a suitable man. Speaking of which, Caitlyn, Piltover's citizens have been expressing a desire for their sheriff to marry. Supposedly, a petition was making the rounds, recently. Surely you have no end of potential suitors?"
Caitlyn shook her head. "That's not something I can think about right now, if ever. It's not really my position that's so troubling, but one of my co-workers has been a handful, and I'm really focusing on keeping things together, at the moment."
"A shame."
"One of your coworkers... a handful?" Sarah said, a grin crossing her face. "Vi – you're talking about Vi!"
"No," Caitlyn said. "I really don't want to talk about her. I was expressly trying not to, so please, tell us how your love life is going, Sarah – but before that – how many have you had?"
"Men?"
"Drinks."
"I don't count," Sarah said, idling flicking her glass.
"Fine then, neither do I," Caitlyn said, waving over the nearest waiter.
No one suggested that trying to match Sarah's drinking would end in disaster, but that might have been because it was too obvious. Caitlyn's determination to remain on the road to self-destruction was almost admirable.
Quinn wasn't watching the time, so she was surprised when the room gradually began emptying out.
The crash of a dish falling to the ground made her abandon her next bite of food.
Two tables over, two women were standing up. On opposite sides of the table, they glared at each other. The tension was palpable, and it looked like at any second, one of them would clamber over the table to strangle the other. Leona wore a sparkling gold dress, and Diana held her moonblade – a curved, scimitar-like sword. There was no question who would win, if it came to blows, but the two women showed a surprising amount of restraint.
Leona broke eye-contact first, nodding towards the nearest exit. Before she could even finish the action, Diana was striding towards the door. Leona quickly followed after her, but no Summoners elected to follow. Everyone remained silent as they watched the two rivals exit the building. When the door slammed shut after their departure, the room once again lost interest and the champions returned to their almost empty platters of chocolate and other desserts.
Akali leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "So, is it just me, or were they more agitated than usual?"
"I honestly can't tell if it's sexual tension," Sarah said, pausing to lick her doughnut, "murderous intent, or what, but those two need to sort out their problems."
"Maybe both," Karma observed.
"That's kinda hot," Caitlyn said.
"Reminds me of another couple that's always bickering," Sarah said, purposefully eyeing Janna and Irelia. "I wonder if they're in the same boat."
Irelia snorted. "Please."
"No," Janna said, smirking. "Irelia's too busy trying to woo a witch-"
"And this is why you have no friends. Oh, no, wait, it's actually because you've betrayed them all," Irelia shot back.
"Better a traitor than dead," Janna said, standing up. "Now, I do believe it's getting late – and some of us actually need a full night's sleep. I shall be leaving first."
It only occurred to Quinn after the first member of their table left, but the sound of the piano was much different than it had been an hour ago. Rather than an elegant melody, it was mismatched notes and chaos – there was no attempt at finding a rhythm, and instead the goal seemed to be making something worse than Zaun's anthem. Surprisingly, it was still Evelynn seated at the plush stool in front of the piano. It seemed nobody had the heart to tell her how far she'd fallen. Or maybe nobody cared enough.
The Yordle table was virtually unchanged, but looking about the room, there were other, obvious differences from how the place had been earlier.
The Demacian table was quiet, lacking Prince Jarvan, Garen, Lux, Fiora, and herself. Vayne was now sleeping, slumped against Sona, her head resting on the woman's shoulder. Sona didn't seem to mind, as she ate small bites of food from her plate.
Despite the terrible piano playing, Sona still spent half her time studying Evelynn. Quinn wasn't musically inclined, so maybe there was something pleasant about the sound – a hidden structure it obeyed, or a melody that still existed, drowned out by stray notes. In either case, a faint smile played across Sona's face as she adjusted her position so Vayne wouldn't slip off her and fall to the ground.
"Ow." Lux tugged on her shoulder. "Quinn, I cut my finger."
She held it up. True to her word, a bead of red was forming at the tip of her index finger.
"You need to suck the blood away and kiss it better," Lux said.
"Ask Vladimir," Quinn said when she realized she hadn't misheard Lux's request.
"But he's scary! I want you," Lux sang, stressing the last word.
Even with context, it made her heart skip a beat. The words reverberated in her head, and she stared at the droplet of blood on Lux's finger. The red was entrancing – a dark shade, just like her lips – no. They were friends, Lux was drunk, and she would probably laugh if she knew what Quinn was thinking.
"No," Quinn vocalized. "Why don't you just heal it? You can use magic."
"That's too hard for me," she said, rotating her finger so the drop of blood wouldn't yet fall. "I'm good at shielding, not healing."
"Then why didn't you shield your finger and avoid being cut in the first place?"
"Who protects their fingers when cutting brownie?"
"Who cuts their fingers when they're cutting brownie?"
Lux sulked for a minute, before she snatched the cherry off the top of her brownie and ate it – stem included.
Kennen dropped by their table as Lux struggled to eat the cherry, and though Quinn wasn't intentionally eavesdropping, she heard every word of his conversation with Akali.
"Preparations for the you-know-what in you-know-where are done," he said. "Just need you to tell them the you-know-when."
"Did you really have to tell me that now?" Akali said, sighing. "Couldn't take an evening off?"
"I'm done my role." Kennen balled his tiny fists. "There are much better uses of my talent, and I was against this from the start, but I've done what I needed to do. It's your turn now."
"Fine. I understand."
Without another word, Kennen stormed off. He didn't return to the Yordle Land table, but rather he went to the Ionian table, quickly joining Shen in conversation.
"Look," Lux said, grabbing her attention again. She pulled a cherry stem out of her mouth, and showed Quinn. "I can tie a cherry stem knot with my tongue! See, see? Isn't it sexy? I need these kind of skills, you know, to make up for my lacking in other areas." She mimed cupping her breasts.
Quinn stared first at the saliva covered stem, and then at Lux's breasts, and when she couldn't think of a response, Akali came to the rescue.
"Okay, Lux," Akali said, standing up and stepping around Quinn. She took away Lux's wine glass. "I think you've had enough to drink."
It might have been sexy, or it might have been the alcohol. In either case, Quinn grabbed the beer in front of her – she couldn't even remember when she had ordered it – and chugged as much as she could.
"Tryndamere and Ashe, though. What an unexpected couple," Akali said, returning to her seat with Lux's wine and pushing it across the table to Sarah, who wordlessly downed the remnants in seconds.
At the front of the room, the Avarosan leader and her fiancé were in deep conversation.
"Surprising?" Quinn said. "Did you know them before they became engaged?"
"No. I did not. But still – they're from different tribes."
Sarah slammed her wine glass down as though she had just finished chugging a beer. Multiple people at the table winced, but the glass didn't shatter. "Same faction, though. And it's not surprising at all, actually."
"And why is that?" Karma said, joining the conversation.
Rotating the wine glass between two fingers, Sarah smiled. "Because they share the same dream. Both Tryndamere and Ashe want a united Freljord. They were born into a world where their parents were fierce fighters, yet who were still weary of the never-ending battle, and this rubbed off on their children. It's all they wanted."
Vessaria, who was making silent rounds of the table, stopped behind Sarah to listen.
"You can only get so far on lust. For a couple to be happy, and for their relationship to last a long time, both partners need to be of the same mind. They need to share the same dreams, or they'll eventually drift apart, no matter how much else they have in common. The physical desire brings them together, and the dream keeps them together."
"Well said." Vessaria clapped Sarah on the shoulder, making her jump. "When two people want the same thing, it's only natural they stick together."
Vessaria walked around the table to Quinn's side, a slight stagger in her step. She locked her eyes on Quinn.
"Quinn," Vessaria said, setting a hand on her shoulder. "Where's Valor?"
"Is this a drunk Vessaria?" Akali said in wonderment. "High Summoners are immune to the rules – who would've thought?"
Vessaria shushed Akali. "I want you to tell me a story," she said to Quinn. "The first time you met Valor. What was he?"
"A bird, I would think," Akali said, grinning.
"Quiet, Miss Foot of the Shadow."
"Fist," Akali corrected.
"Mind reading isn't my only specialty," Vessaria said. "I can turn you into a giant bee, if that's what you want."
"Not when you're drunk."
Quinn wondered if Vessaria was really capable of something of such level. She'd seen, first hand, Vessaria's ability to change her own hair colour, but using that magic on someone else, and transforming their entire body, would be much more difficult. And besides, what would happen to the brain and heart – and, more importantly, the soul – if they were shrunk to a bee's size? Would something like that even be reversible?
"I hold my liquor better than anyone at this table," Vessaria said.
Sarah cleared her throat.
"Better than almost anyone at this table," Vessaria said. "So unless you want to return to your Order as a giant bee, don't try to smart mouth me."
"You're the one who called me Foot of the Shadow."
"Buzz off," Vessaria said, making a sweeping gesture with her hand.
Akali brought her hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine."
"Now, where were we?" Vessaria said, turning back to Quinn. "Story. Valor. Was he small? Was he big? How old was he?"
"He was a nestling," Quinn said. "Fell from a tree, as far as I could tell."
"Where was this?" Vessaria said, appearing engrossed in Quinn's words.
"The forest near my hometown, in Demacia."
"Fascinating."
"Enough mocking Quinn," Akali said.
"You're jealous, aren't you?" Vessaria retorted. "I approved of Sarah's argument, I converse with Quinn, and I request Caitlyn's assistance, but I have no use for you."
"Caitlyn's assistance?" Akali said doubtfully.
Vessaria made a point of turning her back on Akali to address Caitlyn.
"Caitlyn," Vessaria said. "We would like your assistance with solving the theft of Sejuani's helmet."
"Yes, yes, very well," Caitlyn said, looking up from her mug. "I can help find the hat. My detective-ing skills are top notch. Have you checked the top of her head?"
Vessaria stared at her.
"Don't worry – I know what you're thinking," Caitlyn said, raising both hands to ward off the stare. "I can assure you that I did not steal the hat. But I do want to help you find it, and you know, if hats are like glasses, and Sejuani is like old, then maybe she forgot she still has it on her head. So... did you check?"
As the night drew to an end, she and Karma stepped away from the table. Looking around the room, most tables were emptier than they had been at the start. The entire Bilgewater table was already cleared, the men ending their night surprisingly early. The only table that was as full and energetic as it had been at the start was the Yordle Land table, which still housed Fizz without any hesitation.
"Thank you for tonight," Quinn said. "It was an – uh – a valuable experience."
"You're quite welcome, Quinn. I noticed, aside from Sarah, everyone seems to have taken a liking to you. But what do you think of them?"
"Why does it matter? Does this have something to do with the prophecy? Have you figured it out?"
"Idle curiosity, is all. Each of us could prove useful allies to one another, in the future, and as a new set of eyes, I was simply curious what you thought about the people you ate dinner with, tonight."
"They're... uh, complicated? You say allies, but there seemed to be a lot of grudges floating about. I can say that much, and I'm not a good judge of people – I hardly even know Lux."
Karma nodded. "Understanding Lux isn't as hard as you would think, if you have all the information. I recall earlier, you wanted to know about Lux's role in the Noxian invasion. I told you to ask her yourself?"
"I haven't, yet."
"I shall backtrack on my words, then. Lux seems to be quite taken with you, and though she's a very social girl, she's never had any close friends, so I would like for you to know the entire story – its implications, too – before you become too close to her."
"No, stop," Quinn said, the words leaving her lips before she knew it was what she wanted. "I don't want to hear it from you – I'm sorry – but I need to hear it from her. It's only fair – I haven't given her a chance yet."
"I understand," Karma said, possibly hiding her disappointment. "And as for the prophecy, you needn't worry about it. Just don't do anything stupid, and everything will be fine. Now, I should return to the table before Caitlyn drinks herself unconscious, trying to match Sarah's alcohol intake. Irelia has also been drinking more so than usual, due to Syndra's absence. It's time to cut them off the booze."
Once they returned to the table, Quinn immediately checked Lux's plate. It was empty.
"Lux, are you going soon?" she asked.
"Are you?" Lux countered.
"Yeah. There's – uh – there's something I wanted to show you."
"What?"
"Outside."
"Is it food and drink? An after party?" Lux said. "I'm ready, let's go. And we'll talk the night away!"
"Talking is fine," Quinn said.
Initially, she had intended on going alone. Taking Lux along was a spur of the moment decision, aided by the alcohol, but she didn't regret it. The night wasn't yet over.