One new custom our champ strongly disliked about the LCS was the obligatory meals in the canteen. It was to show that they really put their differences aside and the Institute's kitchen was actually top notch, but there was a reason he usually ate alone in his quarters.
Numerous eyes blinked sleepily and he stifled a yawn as he made his way among the tables. One thing was for sure, it was entertaining to watch how his fellow champions acted in the morning, not to mention the quasi-forced table compositions all over the place. One of the tensest tables were shared by Shen and Zed, giving each other the silent treatment. Others worked out surprisingly well.
Annie and Darius were competing who can pile more jam on their toast and the Hand of Noxus seemed to be winning so far. His brother, Glorious Executioner he might be, but Draven wasn't overly familiar with the idea of two seven o'clocks in a day and was snoring with his head on the table, clutching Tibbers, much to the glee of Annie. A few tables over, Jarvan IV. and Swain was sharing a civilized breakfast, chatting about anything but diplomacy, military issues and politics. They got on shockingly well so far as they stayed clear of those topics. Jarvan was feeding Beatrice pieces of his toast and let her perch on his shoulder for summoners' shake!
Our champ arrived at his destination, the long table reserved for the champions from Iona and Demacia, all in the name of diplomacy. At the moment it was mostly surrounded by Demacians, Iona's champs still busy with their morning training routines and meditation. He located the empty seats, regretfully far away from the coffee and was about to sit with a mumble that could have been 'Good morning' when Garen stopped him.
"I'm sorry friend, but these seats are reserved for others. Please look for another table." The tone was friendly enough, but there was something in the swordsman's face that said, I don't like you, I don't trust you and I don't want you anywhere near me. Cue much sleepy, confused blinking on our champion's part and trust me when I say that all those eyes blinking in asynchrony were really damn confusing. Well, if he wasn't wanted, then he wasn't wanted. He mumbled an apology and left to look for another table, preferably with better company and easy access to the coffee.
The table occupied by the Pentakill and co. seemed a good choice. It had most of the spectral champs consuming whatever it was that specters ate and Karthus drinking what was probably embalming fluid, but Sona was there eating normal-people-food and from afar it seemed that so did Mordekaiser. The master of metal was slowly demolishing a family-sized plate full of bacon and eggs, washing it down with coffee.
He was sold on the coffee part and adjusted his way to approach them. He was halfway when Hecarim galloped in, covered in a lilac horse-blanket and carrying three yordles on his back. After a short, quiet conversation that he couldn't overhear, the three little ones were seated at the table, bickering amicably over the marmalade.
The whole group looked up when he approached, some regarding him with curiosity, others with suspicion.
"'Morning. Can I sit here? I wasn't welcome at my own table." He jerked a thumb at the Iona-Demacia table. His voice was still scratchy this early in the morning, but it was recognizable and put the company at ease.
The shadows covering Mordekaiser's face changed, probably indicating a grin.
"Why of course. There's plenty to go around." He saw all those eyes focus on the coffee pot and nudged it closer to the newcomer.
Our champ settled down, grabbed himself a plate of food, a generous amount of coffee and listened to the morning banter of his odd breakfast companions. The Pentakill members were discussing music, which provided an interesting tableau: Karthus talking excitedly about a new Ionian songstress, Sona signaling enthusiastically, sharing the Deathsinger's excitement. Mordekaiser and Yorick were in deep discussion about guitars with an occasional comment from Olaf, who looked very, very hung-over. Quite a feat, as intoxicating beverages were strictly banned during the championship. The details honestly went over our champ's head; he never really showed much interest in music.
Thresh was humming quietly, gazing into his eerily glowing lantern he had set on the table and nodded along absently to Tristana, who loudly complained about certain yordles sleeping in and causing Poppy, Lulu and her to almost miss breakfast – the most important meal of the day! Hecarim, who no longer served as a ride for the little ones was hopping from one hoof to another, clearly uncomfortable with the height of the table until he folded down with an irritated sigh, kneeling. He then surprised most of the living around the table by removing his fanged helmet, revealing a ghostly blue face much like the rest of his body.
The face shown was almost disappointingly ordinary: strong jaw, straight nose, hard features and a few deep lines indicating that he spent most of his living years with his brows furrowed in anger, but if one forgot about the equine bits, the description fit most bruiser warriors.
"So," the ghost warrior started, voice missing some of it otherworldly echo without the helmet. "As neither of us is likely to show up on the LCS this year, which team do you favor? I say the northerners stand a chance."
Our champ smiled, took a swig of his coffee – strong and black, just as he liked it – and started speaking.
The Ionian champions slowly turned up, one after the other and made their way to their reserved table. The first two to arrive were Wukong and Master Yi, the swordsman looking half his usual size without his customary helmet and the three-sizes-too-big boots. They were followed by a grumpy and regrettably sober Yasuo.
"Finally!" exclaimed Lux, happy for the new company. "We were starting to think you won't even show. You Ionians take morning meditation real seriously."
The two wuju warriors exchanged glances. "That is unusual news. Jax should already be here. He is a soul who is not truly awake until he consumes his morning coffee," said Yi, looking around in search of the warrior. It wasn't a long search; even with his hair down, Jax had a distinctive look to him. "Ah, there he is. Good, it would appear he already got his morning drink."
"Where?" asked Lux and Garen in unison.
"He is sitting with the Pentakill, talking to… is that Hecarim I spy there?" asked Wukong, craning his neck because he was intrigued by the spectral centaur.
Lux found the man who was supposed to be Jax and balked. "Is that really him?! I mean..." she gestured at her face. She didn't know how to say 'purple with too many eyes' without sounding rude. Also, those teeth would make a shark green with envy.
"Ah, yes. I am uncertain what manner of creature he is, but I believe Heimerdinger based the idea of my goggles on his kind. Multiple eyes for more complex vision," Yi said, pouring himself a cup of green tea, totally unfazed by his fellow Ionian's appearance. "I would advise you not to ask about it. It is a most personal topic."
Garen sat silently by his sister, looking guilty. It was him who drove away the champion. Jax seemed happy enough in his current company, but it still bugged the proud warrior of Demacia.
He didn't take his eyes of the Pentakill's table until Lux elbowed him in the side.
"You are staring and your eggs will go cold," she hissed. "You can apologize after breakfast." Garen turned back his attention to his own table and his mostly full plate. It would be a shame to let perfectly good ham and eggs go cold, he agreed. To his right, Wukong was telling a joke about a voidling and a crowbar that made Lux blush to a fierce red.
This was good. Familiar. He will have opportunity to apologize later, Garen decided and banished every Jax-related thought for the rest of the meal.
Three hours later, when the Grandmaster at Arms wiped the floor of the training room with him, he thought: in hindsight, I should have just suck it up and apologize there and then.
A.N: I'm fairly sure that Jax has a rather mundane face under his mask, but we had too much fun trying to come up with something hideous for him that I couldn't resist. Also, I'm blaming that Heca on Dia. You know who you are.