Garen had left one last note on his younger sister's door. He was positive that she would receive it whenever she returned to her room inside of the Institute of War. The note had nothing but one word scribbled across it. The note read "West". Being of the intelligence that she was, he knew she would understand. He had left Talon where he knew he would receive the care he needed in total isolation from the League, the Institute, or the Fields of Justice. And so he walked.
Garen walked until his boots wore holes, and until his feet wore calluses, and until the calluses bled. He had no direction or purpose; no way to go and no reason for it. He could not go back to the Institute, not yet. He needed to allow things to settle before he went back. He needed Talon to heal and to have his own name cleared. Until then, he was an outcast. A rouge, an exile. Self imposed, perhaps, but an exile nonetheless. It was extremely likely that such a title would have come in time regardless of whether or not he left.
Garen had ditched his armor and left no trace of his existence or whereabouts aside from his note to his sister. He knew Lux would not tell anyone about the letter or what it meant. Who he cared about knew where he was, and that was all that mattered.
Garen had taken with him a trench coat and some simple armaments such as gloves, boots, and the clothes on his back. The trench coat was only about half of his legs in length; not quite drooping to his knees. He did not own a sword that did not belong to Demacia or the League itself, so he did not bother bringing any actual weapons. Being a champion of the League he assumed himself to be fairly safe from danger simply through his strength. He was at a fault though, since he did not have the magical control of mana; something that separated him from the strength of most champions in the League.
Garen eventually stopped walking. He had no idea where he was, but he knew was far away. He slumped up against a tree and slid down along it while allowing his back to scrape the bark as he sank. But not only was he sinking, his mood was as well. In fact, it was sinking so low that it might as well have been drowning. He had no idea what to do or what to live for. He was not planning to take his own life; he saw very little purpose to such an act. But he did not have anyone to help, anyone to assist, anyone to listen to – or to have listen to him – anyone to play with, anyone to converse with, or anyone to live with. He was truly in a world all by himself. He wanted to shudder at the thought, and normally would, but he could not pull himself to do so. He was so upset with himself and everything around him that he could not even be bothered to care. So often did he just accept what he had for granted. He loved many people in the world of Runeterra, but when he saw to them for help, he found rarely was one willing to love him back.
He let out a heavy sigh; not that it helped anything, but it did not really hurt either. Over time, he let out another sigh, and another. Eventually he wondered if someone would come by and see a large man in a coat slumped against a tree with his feet bleeding from around the openings in his shoes, sighing like a broken record. He looked around and saw a loosely dense forest with trees spaced about twenty feet apart being scattered randomly as nature had let them grow. Plenty of light shone in from above that lit up any area not directly under the protective shadow of a tree's leaves. A small creek ran about thirty feet away from him with no end or beginning in sight. He looked at the creek longingly, almost as if it was going to provide him comfort and spring up a person to just give him company. He laughed aloud for the first time in awhile.
"I would love to see a creek, spring up a person. Would that not be a ridiculous sight," he thought aloud. He had no idea why his mind was so aloof or why he was thinking aloud; it was almost as if he thought someone, somewhere may actually be listening to him.
After some time he fell asleep sitting awkwardly against the tree's trunk. A rustling of branches and cracking of twigs awoke him and he glanced around. He had no doubt that he heard footsteps, most likely hostile, but he did not care. However, he knew that the on setting depression was siphoning out all of his emotion like Gragas did beer in a flask: so fast that most had no idea the flask was full to begin with. Gragas was also a champion of the League, and would often times get free beer this way by perplexing even the bartenders as to the possibility of such an act which resulted in him not being charged at all for the beer that they could not prove was given to him.
At that, point Garen had become so lost in his own random thoughts that the approaching stranger found it curious. She had never once seen a man of such a large stature sit around completely unarmed and not even bother to move at the sound of someone approaching. She decided that the man could not possibly be of too much harm, seeing as he remained completely still all the way up to the point in which she was standing literally inches from his side. At this point in time the man finally looked up at her. He was unshaven, but only for a few days. He did not have length to his beard, but it was definitely attempting to make an appearance for the first time in years. His hair was ruffled, but clearly had a genetic wave to it; almost as if it was supposed to be curly and it was losing the battle. His eyes had bags under them which were clearly exposed due to lack of sleep and a troubled mind. His face expressed no emotion; an appearance she had seen only once before, and that was just moments ago when she saw her on reflection in the creek she had crossed to get to him. Garen broke the silent staring contest after a few moments.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a serious manner. Such a question was expected to be said in total sarcasm to portray an obvious distaste of a strangers company, but it was not. It was said in genuine curiosity, with a lust in his voice, as if he wanted nothing more but for the question to be answered with a yes. Regardless, the question was meant to be taken seriously. Upon examining the woman standing beside him, he noticed that she was in a state very reminiscent of his own. Her hair was torn and scrambled, sitting atop her head like a used mop. It was a sleek silver; a sight that was very peculiar to see in someone's hair, especially a woman of such a young age. She looked to be in her mid twenties, but wore a small frame. From a distance, she could have been mistaken for a teenager. Her clothes were worn and patched up. She wore what seemed to be a spare cloth wrapped around her waist many times, remnants of a shoulder pad strapped to her around her side, and some sort of wrappings to conceal the space between the old armor bits that she still wore. Her boots were old and probably lacked a sole. He could not tell from his stance however, seeing as she was still standing.
His question seemed to startle her. "ME?" She asked. "Look at YOU!" she retorted. Glancing down his body towards his feet he saw what he had noted just prior to having fallen asleep and laughed aloud.
"Ha ha ha! I was just thinking about that a few moments ago actually," he responded.
"Thinking about how you look?" she asked quizzically.
"Yeah," he sighed. He started to get to his feet and she put a hand on his lower arm and knelt down beside him as he reverted back to his original position.
"You shouldn't get up, your feet are bleeding," she told him.
"I am aware, but I haven't got a way to rinse them off if I am sitting here, now have I?" he said. At this point he looked at the sword in her other hand. The blade was jagged, and short, as if a long sword had been shattered. This took him by surprise. The force required to smash a long sword of any decent craftsmanship was so intense that such an impact is very unlikely to have left its wielder alive. "How did that happen?" he asked, pointing at the sword. Noticing the random jumping of topics, she looked at him with a puzzled face. She did not answer either question, but patted his arm twice and stood up from her squat. She walked over to the stream and took off her shoulder piece. She turned it upside down, the concave part facing the sky, and scooped it full of water. She walked back towards Garen's location, crouched down, and tore off a piece of the extra cloth wrapped around her waist to soak in the water from the shoulder piece. She removed Garen's boots and began to wash his feet. Garen bore a shocked looked on his face. Cleaning ones feet was something for maids, or servants: people below you.
"Ma'am, I cannot allow you to wash my feet!" he said aloud to her. She looked at him with a grimace.
"First of all, it's not ma'am, it's Riven. Secondly, is that how you always respond to someone helping you out?" This question took him by as much surprise as her actions did, but he found it in his best interest not to push it any further, so he decided to take the most logical approach to her actions.
"I do apologize, Miss Riven. I thank you for your kindness. I am Garen."
"Riven. Just, Riven," she responded. He laughed aloud again, with the same seemingly over exaggerated chuckle as he did before.
"Ha! Alright Riven." A silence sank in as she continued to wipe the blood from his feet and wrap the wounds with the cloth she had torn off previously. "You seem to be quite… resourceful," he said keeping in mind her usage of the shoulder pad and the spare cloth around her waist.
"I learned," she responded. She did not seem to look to want to say anything about this strange comment, and Garen took note of it.
"Oh?" he asked with the same curiosity as he did when he had originally asked if she needed help. "Well, you never did answer me. Do you need help? What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
"I could ask the same of you." She responded with an intentional irritation to the response.
"Fair enough. I've been walking," he said.
"Walking? You're bleeding and look like you've been wrestling a bear!"
"I have. I walked until I bled. And the bear is simply a bear of consciousness, ravaging about my mind as if it had young buried deep inside, pleading for help." She responded to this comment with silence, yet again. He stared off into the woods, as if there were answers lying deep inside, just waiting on him to dig them out.
"A bear on the mind is a burden. You cannot properly assist someone with a burden," she said.
"I know. And that is why the bear is still there. I know I cannot help anyone or anything from where I am at. Perhaps I was hoping you would answer me with a yes, just to make me feel purpose," he told her. He was not sure why he was being so outright with her, but at the same time he did. There was truth to his words. He was feeling useless and needed to save himself from the hole he was sinking into. And in all honesty, helping someone out would help him begin to climb out of his hole. It would be a start to a seemingly impossible ascension.
She took his word for truth. She had finished wrapping his feet, still squatting down, knees out to the sides with her arms resting on either one, with hands holding one another in the middle. She was looking at her hands, as if longing for them to talk for her. Eventually she spoke up.
"I suppose I could use some help. But I don't know how. I'm lost," she said gloomily.
"Lost, but you know your way around these woods," he said to her. She looked up at him, eyes wide. She understood what he meant. He was suggesting that she was lost mentally, not physically. This was exactly what she had intended for her words to say, but did not assume Garen would understand them.
"How do you…" she began, but started to trail off and Garen picked up her sentence for her.
"Know how you feel? Well look at us. We look as if we have bears in our minds and bears in our paths. We are beaten up and broken, waiting to be re-forged. Not many stable men would just walk until their feet bleed, would they? And not many stable women would run around a forest aiding wounded men wearing half a suit of armor and torn clothing, and wielding a shattered sword." He looked at the sword again, keeping in mind his thoughts from earlier. "That was not done by a foe, was it?" She stared at him blankly for what seemed to be hours. She was completely astounded. She had absolutely no idea how this man, lying slumped to a tree and wounded, in the middle of nowhere, with hardly an idea as to whom he is, was intelligent enough to put together all that he had in such a short time frame, based simply off of observations. Garen chose not to return her stare, but instead, got to his feet and walked towards the creek. He knelt down and began to drink the water that flowed over the jagged, randomly assorted rocks below. He was about to get back to his feet when he saw Riven come sit next to him, putting her feet on the opposite side of the creek, allowing the water to flow underneath her bent legs like a bridge over a river. He decided not to stand as he had intended, and sat cross legged next to her.
"Am I dreaming?" she asked aloud. Garen noticed that it was rhetorical, and did not know if he should respond to it or not. To his relief, he did not have to, seeing as she continued to talk.
"We were ambushed," she started. "I was fighting them, just as I was instructed to do so. I was considered a valuable soldier, not just a pawn or a knight. I held a high position, and was treated like it. I had earned it myself through my valor and struggles. My commanding officer gave me this sword to prove it." She looked down at the broken remnants of the sword she had once held firmly against her foes, holding it in both of her hands, as if it were a precious artifact. "I don't know who would have ordered such an attack, or why. But all that I know is that it happened. Me and my men… so many soldiers willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good… or so I was told. I learned quite quickly that these men were not willing to die for the cause. But I don't think that the cause is even being held onto anymore. It's been corrupted. But the men… they ran, they scattered like flies. Not that it was their fault, I did too. We all did. I just wish… more had lived? No. I wish it hadn't happened…" She was crying. Tears trickled down her cheeks and onto the fractured sword in her hands. "Why did it happen?!" She yelled in frustration, not expecting a response, but longing for an answer; exerting her anger. "It poured down like rain, but it scorched the earth beneath it, searing the very soul of the individual it touched. This… chemical. It was… horrendous. So many people dying… so many crying… so many helpless… so many praying that it would all end. I saw their faces as I ran. I fled the battlefield. The pure vision is not pure anymore. It has had a seed of evil placed among it and this seed has taken root, and is flourishing on all of the pure water around it, soaking it in to produce its own fruits of terror… They killed their own soldiers… just to win the battle… Noxus has lost its cause… and I… I don't know…"
Garen just sat in silence. He listened to her story, but did not know how to comfort her. Had this story been told to him at any other point in time in his life, he would have ended her in an instant. But here he sat, listening to her story, feeling sorry for her, and longing to help while knowing that she is of Noxian blood. But he no longer had it in him. He had exiled himself for many reasons. He did not plan to go back, and he was setting his own, new array of ideologies and purposes. He no longer had the mindset of a true Demacian, and did not plan to re-adopt it. He took his arm around her shoulder, and held her tight. It probably was not his place to do so, but a woman in pain is not something he could allow to just pass. He sat there in silence as she wept, holding his arm around her for a long time.
"You know your ideology Riven," he said at long last, breaking the silence. "You do not have to believe what these people do. They are not you."
"But… it's my beliefs… my people… I smashed my sword to pieces once I escaped. I felt that it stood for everything that was wrong, everything that is now corrupt…"
"Their beliefs have changed. And so can you. All people can change. This is what makes us human, and not animals." Garen thought about what he said. There was a lot of truth to the statement. He needed to take his own words to heart. Perhaps that was why he wanted someone so badly. He knew that he could talk his way out of his own slump, but he had no idea as to where he should begin. However, if someone started his thoughts for him, things usually fell into place. Riven finally took her head up from her folded arms.
"Yeah… you're right," she said.
Garen chuckled. "I know I am. But for some reason I was missing it myself. And it took talking to you for me to realize this… Thank you Riven." He removed his arm from her shoulder and took to his feet. She pulled her feet towards her, dragging them through the creek, and stood up beside him. She looked at him, her face saying "Where to now?" He smiled down at her. "I need your help Riven; I seem to have misplaced my sword. Do you know where I could get one?" he asked.
"Get one? No. Make one? Yes. Let's go Garen." She walked in front of him, leading him out of the forest. He paused for a moment, then smiled, and followed her.
The two walked through the forest for quite some time. They seemed to be following some sort of path, but Garen had no idea what kind of trail it could possibly be. Riven led the way, scarcely slowing her pace no matter what obstacle lay on the path. It seemed she knew exactly where she was headed. Eventually Garen felt his stomach growl, and after awhile the growling grew quite audible. Upon hearing this, Riven finally stopped walking forward. She turned and grinned at him.
"Shall we stop for food?" she asked.
"Well, we haven't got a proper sword on either of us" he replied. She responded to this by trading her grin for a full on smile.
"What counts as a 'proper sword'?" She asked mockingly.
"Well, I suppose I have no argument. Any idea what is edible around here? Or do you plan to hunt something with your shattered blade?" She looked at him and gave a simple response.
"Why don't you go collect fire wood? I'll get the meat." While slightly taken aback by this remark, he did understand that the wood was going to be needed, so he decided to hold his tongue and responded to her command with a nod. She had phrased her order like a question, but somehow Garen understood it as directions. It had seemed to be a very long time since he had last taken an order. It was quite a different life style compared to the old one where all he did was take orders.
He found some solace in carrying out the task. He walked around the local area collecting dry pieces of wood while making sure not to branch off too far from the point where Riven had left him. A lot of the wood was wet due to a recent rain and Garen started to wonder if a fire would even start with what he had collected. He wondered how he had even managed to last so long without food. He had taken some small rations with him, ate some wild fruits and berries that he recognized to be safe, and even had a squirrel he had accidentally stepped on; he knew he weighed a fair amount due to his large stature, but he did not expect to kill a small creature with his step, especially without donning his armor.
He collected a fair amount of wood and made a clearing in the ground before isolating the created pit from the nearby foliage with rocks and stones. He took some of the longer, thicker, pieces that he knew would not readily burn and stuck them on either side of the pit. He grabbed a sharp rock from his circle and used it to split the ends of the sticks not currently stuck in the ground and made sure to split them in a way that did not destroy their structural integrity, but was cut deep enough to support a third stick balancing between the two. Garen was not quite sure how large of an animal Riven was going to bring back for them, but he figured they could roast parts of the animal over the fire if it was too heavy for his supports as a whole.
He sat on a collapsed tree near his recently built campsite and looked up at the sky. It was darkening, but plenty of light still filled the sky. He remembered the adventures he had gone on with Luxanna, his little sister, when the two of them were younger. She was a master at the magical craft. She could bend the light around them to make any sky look like noon. He grinned at the thought. Perhaps enough of a concentration of such light would get his fire started for him. He had no idea how he was going to pull that off without any matches. If only he had control on the mana flowing in the world around him. He had never managed to tap into the source of power in the way that Luxanna did with such ease. He loved her and felt terrible for his sudden disappearance; mostly because it had not been the first time. He prayed that she understood his note. It was intentionally stating a cardinal direction opposite of where he went. While Luxanna was to be interrogated or investigated, she could use the note as proof to state that she had no idea apart from what it said. However, she would know Garen to be smarter than to leave a trail for a private search party. Therefore, the most logical direction for him to have fled is the opposite. She would figure it out eventually, if she did not do so right away. She did not graduate at the top of her class every year of her life and excel in her military covert ops because of luck; he knew that for a fact.
His train of thought was interrupted when he heard some of the nearby brush rustle. He stood up and walked towards the location where the sound came from, and saw Riven walking towards him. He thought that perhaps she was dragging something, because he could not see anything from the top half of her that was visible over the chest high grass she was walking through. Upon getting closer, he noted that there was no sound of a dragging corpse, just footsteps. He grinned.
"Broken blade did not quite cut it huh? Or are you having trouble finding something?" He yelled out to her as he approached. She flashed a glare at him with a grim look on her face.
"I did get a deer," she replied dully, "but I wasn't fast enough in bringing it back." Garen gave her a confused look. Meat rotted, sure, but not at those speeds. She must have meant something else by her remark.
"Are you injured?" he asked, while still on the approach. They were just within talking distance and were now both walking through the tall prairie grass. "Do you need me to carry the deer?"
"No, no. The deer is lost. A pack of wolves jumped on me as I was carrying the deer. I tried to out run them but I wasn't fast enough with the added weight. Then I tried to fight them but I haven't got the range or mobility I needed to kill them. So I dropped the deer and they went straight to it, ignoring me as I left."
"Huh" Garen replied. "Well you know... Wolf meat isn't so bad." She wore a face of doubt and distaste. By this point in time the two were right next to each other; back a few steps to keep Riven from having to cram her neck upwards to look into Garen's face. The height difference between the two was quite noticeably a heads length when they stood so close.
"Let's go back to the wolves," he said. She turned around and they walked along the half flattened grassy path towards where Riven's catch was being devoured and came upon a clearing in the forest. The ground was muddy and loosely covered by dead grass and torn leaves. The tall grass where Riven and Garen were crouched, observing the scene, ended rather abruptly about ten feet from the wolves, still feasting ravenously upon the dead deer. There were a few trees surrounding the clearing, with small patches of dying grass scattered throughout the perimeter. A few slopes surrounded the area, presumably causing much of the rainwater to roll down into the area to drown out most plants and leave the area muddy. It was literally a perfect ambush spot.
"The wolves must be pretty smart to camp out in an area like this to get their prey. The most viable escape route would be straight through these tall grass patches where we are sitting. And any animal on four legs would be hindered greatly by moving through here. However, the flattened path from the fleeing animal would not slow the wolves down by much." Garen talked quietly, as not to be heard by the wolves, but at a volume where Riven could hear him clearly. She looked at him astonished.
"Wow. I suppose you're right Garen. I didn't notice that the first time I was here getting attacked," she stated. He pondered as to whether or not that was sarcasm, but judging by the look on her face she was being quite serious. He then remembered something; he had not told her anything beyond his name and the fact that he had walked a long distance. She probably had no idea as to his military strength or cunning. He grinned. Perhaps it is time to show some of that strength off.
"Lend me your sword, if you will ma'am," he said to Riven. She turned her head towards him, wearing an expression of annoyance.
"RIVEN," she said in a voice much louder than necessary given the situation. "And secondly, I thought it was too broken to hunt."
"I was proven to be incorrect. However, this is not about hunting, but self defense. In such case, a broken bottle is better than an unarmed fist." She was quite clearly discouraged by his manner of not clarifying, but she saw his rugged face looking back at her innocently, and then his outstretched hand. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Here, just take it," she said while placing her broken blade into his palm. He gripped the handle firmly and took a sprinter's stance at the edge of the grass. He stared, not at the pack of wolves, but at the center of them where the deer lay. Within an instant, Garen leapt through the air and landed right on target; the soft flesh and uneaten meat squishing at his feet. He then extended his arm holding the blade, perpendicular to his body, and dug his right heel into the middle of the deer. His left foot was planted firmly on the ground, deep enough in the mud to keep him in place by the one grounded leg. He landed in a crouched position that looked as if he was fighting for his life in a frantic, failing attempt. The wolves immediately looked up from their feast and started to growl at the intruder. Garen took action, swiveling himself around by kicking off with his dug heel and dragging the corpse on his foot.
The limp deer smacked into a number of the wolves, knocking them back with a loud thud, and the deer landed on top them. Garen's back was now turned to the remaining wolves, while he faced the ones under the deer's dog pile. He planted his right foot to the side of him and spun around with his blade arm out stretched instead of his foot. The blade slit the throat of one of the wolves as it lunged towards him. Two were left in front of him and three managed to clamber out from behind the upturned deer. The wolves formed a circle around him once again, and readied to assault. Garen remained very still, watching the wolves carefully while listening for movement from the wolves behind him. All five wolves pounced at the same time and Garen mimicked his same tactic he had just used. He spun around swinging the blade high and low, while smashing his unarmed fist into critical areas of the wolves' skulls. Within three seconds of the blind assault from the wolves, Garen had finished his dance of death, and every wolf lay limp in piles around him, looking as if a plague had wrung through the area. He looked up, stood upright, wiped the blood off of the blade, and walked towards Riven's location in the grass. She sat on her rear, jaw agape, as if she had literally been blown back from a blast.
The two walked back to the camp site, which Garen had created, in almost silence, carrying a few of the less mutilated wolves. Garen whistled for most of the walk, quite pleased in his capability of taking on a pack of wolves simultaneously. He was a bit tired though; seeing as he was not in the League at the moment it left energy a bit more scarce to come by and he lacked food to fuel him. Upon reaching the sight, Riven struck her blade against her shoulder pad a few times to create a spark, lighting Garen's campfire. He kept busy piling on dead grass and small twigs, trying to ignite the heavily wetted logs at the bottom. Meanwhile, Riven skinned one of the wolves and once they had accomplished their individual tasks, the two of them skewered their meal and placed it across the fire, resting on the split end logs stuck in the ground. They roasted it whole, planning to eat around the unwanted organs and insides.
While eating the red meat of the wolf, Riven finally spoke up, voicing her concern to Garen.
"Soooo... What was THAT?" she questioned. The thought was announced so far from left field that it almost took Garen off of his feet. After resettling on his up turned tree-bench, he turned to face her.
"Pardon me?" he stated.
"That... That... Fighting style! What the hell was it! Where did it come from? Why would you fight like THAT? How did it work... What was that!?" She repeated. She spoke so quickly, while completely flustered with herself, that she could hardly continue a singular train of thought. She was like a little kid at a magic show; so full of questions, but not one of them could be verbalized.
"I was a soldier and a champion," he told her, hoping that would help clarify. However, this just widened her eyes. Obviously he had just spawned even more questions.
"Soldier!? For what army!? And champion of what!? What kind of soldier needs to fight like that!?" she seemed to be increasing in velocity as she continued to talk, each word spoken faster than the previous one.
"I am… was, a soldier in the Demacian army. I was a Crownguard. Garen Crownguard," he began, preparing to start telling his story, but Riven cut him off again to add more questions to the pile of already existing ones, while her pupils expanded to the point of engulfing the entirety of her eyes.
"THE Garen Crownguard!? I've heard only stories of how you are a ruthless fighter, and serve in the League of Legends with undying honor for your country! How the hell are you out here!? … What!?" her head was absolutely spinning with questions. She seemed too confused to even stand. Garen forced a grin, the response he knew appropriate, but the rehashing of the memories was also very painful to him. He turned so that his whole body faced her, and she mimicked. He felt she was very on edge, not knowing if she should run or stay where she was at, too disconcerted to make a move. He doubted that she trusted him very much, seeing as they had only known each other for half of a day.
"I have been exiled. I have done something that I should not have, and I had to leave or face the consequences. I was not too afraid to face the consequences; however, my name would be cleared in due time. It was wisest to protect the people I love by leaving. I cannot yet return. It is too soon. But that is where my combat experience has come from; my years in the Demacian military and as a champion in the League of Legends. I cannot explain my actions for I cannot allow for information to get into the wrong hands…" He trailed off, not quite sure what questions she still had and what questions had spawned. She just sat there staring at him, not sure if his refusal to explain was something she should worry about or not.
Garen looked around at the environment. It was completely dark out; omit the light from the fire in between him and Riven. He looked to the trees and saw an outline of a large blue bird resting on one of the branches. As soon as he saw the creature, it took flight into the black sky. Its movement was so fast that he thought his mind may have just played a trick on him. He chose to ignore it, not sure if the wolf meat was totally cooked or not. He wanted to lie down and rest, but he knew Riven still had a hundred questions or so for him, so he sat still out of respect. When he took his eyes off of the trees and looked back at her, she was still staring straight into his face, as if she could stare the answers out of him. Her next action took him by surprise, as she stood up and approached him. She sat down right next to him on the log where he was sitting; so close she was almost touching him with her arm.
She looked up at him, pupils now down to a normal size. Her eyes no longer showed an expression of confusion, but now of sadness. She knew how he felt, what it meant to be exiled. She had no intention of questioning him further into that subject matter but was unsure as how to proceed. She knew all that she wanted was someone to talk to, someone to make her feel better, and to truly care about her when she endured her own self imposed exile. All she wanted to do was provide comfort to the man sitting next to her who had nothing left from the world he once knew. She looked up at him and he looked down at her.
Her hair was a mess, Garen thought. He saw the expression she wore and tried to read it as well as he could. She had no intention of creating a conflict out of the Demacian-Noxian rivalry: not due to him being a previous champion in the League but because he was in need of comfort, and she sought to provide it. He placed his hand on her head and ruffled her hair a bit, as if she were a young boy attempting to explain the world to him.
"You have helped me a lot Riven," he started. "Company is about the last thing you want at some points in time, while the first thing you need simultaneously." She smiled at this.
"I know, exactly, what you mean," she replied. Garen took a light grip on her head and turned it away from him. He took both of his hands and placed his thumbs right under her ears, one on either side, at the top of her jaw, and his index fingers touched in the middle of top of her forehead. He made certain that all of her loose hair was on his side of his hands. He ran his hands backwards along her head, towards him, until the met at the center of the back of her head, where he gripped all of the previously loose hair in one hand. He used his other hand to take a piece of loose cloth from his undershirt, inside of his trench coat, and used it to tie the hair together. Had her hair not been so course and short due to her lack of access to proper bathing, it would have made a nice ponytail. But, in the mean time, it looked like a sloppily created bun, with the hair spiking out in different directions. When he had finished she turned back around to face him again. "I'm no lady, Garen. You don't need to try to treat me like one."
"I'm afraid that is all I know how to do ma... Riven" he replied. He noted her look of sarcastic annoyance at his slip up. "I was raised in nobility. I know nothing of dating or flirting with women. If I were to be in a relationship with a woman, it would be predetermined for me and set up for the best interest of the country." She was a bit disgusted by the idea, and her face reflected it. She was not very fond of the ideology of nobility. Living in Noxus, the chain of command was determined strictly by combat knowledge and your capability to hold power, not by bloodline or gifted strength. It was the Noxian vision she dreamed of; the one she believed in so firmly that she shattered her own sword out of disdain for the newly adopted philosophies for Noxus and the corruption and betrayal.
"This is why Noxus is truly the most free of the two countries," she said to him. "Never would a man not understand how to treat a woman, nor would he refrain from expressing his feelings if he had 'em," she stated. Garen looked at her skeptically. While he was an exile, he had lived there his whole life eating and breathing Demacia. Her statement made a lot of sense, but also had a lot of falsities.
"Imagine this," he started. "What if you settle down and have a child. When the child is born he is deformed. His brain still functions, his emotions are expressed, and he very well may be the brightest man in the world. However, he cannot hold a sword due to the nature of his deformation. Can you not love your own son for this reason?" Riven was truly thinking about what he had just said. She twiddled her thumbs and stared at her feet for a moment. She finally spoke up.
"I would love him dearly... I would take him to safety... Even if my husband were to refuse," she finally replied.
"This is because you have a heart, Riven. It is because you have a lust to care for others, and protect those who cannot protect themselves. Noxus may have a pure vision to give everyone a fair chance with their survival of the fittest ideology, but Demacia has the pure vision to give a chance to those who start out behind." Again, she thought about what he had said. She did not want to understand. Her whole life was lived based around these ideologies, and here one man was crushing them with sentences. Perhaps she had been raised in a world of corruption, and only just realized it when betrayed by her own army.
"You uh… never answered my original question," Riven said, diverting from the topic.
"Which one?" Garen mocked.
"Well… why do you fight like that? You go into the middle. Why outnumber yourself? Make things difficult? Why allow yourself to risk injury?" Garen determined that Riven was done talking about Demacian and Noxian ethics, and had tried to push the conversation in a different direction. However, her comment was more thought inducing than the previous topic.
"Well," Garen started, "I feel strongest there. It catches enemies off guard. They do not expect a man to be able to counter from behind. Since I can, and I can do so with enough confidence, I have learned to prefer it. As far as taking injury… well, when you have mustered up the courage to jump into a group of enemies on your own, you tend not to feel the pain of the blows that manage to strike your skin or armor. Perhaps I was so used to being outnumbered that I learned to cope with it? I guess I haven't got a proper answer, to your question, but that is some insight, if it helps."
"Huh…" she replied. "Wouldn't you eventually lose your control of mana using it for such an exhausting task?" Garen blushed slightly before responding.
"I uh… do not have a very good control on the mana of the world. I fight on my own strength." She looked at him as if he was joking. She shortly saw that he was not and changed her expression to one of amazement.
"How do you fight in the League then?" she questioned.
"Well, that is why I fight in the League. I have enough strength without mana control that I surpass most normal individuals. There are a few other champions who also fight without tapping into a mana source," he pointed out.
"Most of those champions rely on a different source of power though, right? Some run their own body's energy restrictions or resources, while others fuel their fight through an anger unlike that of anyone else."
"True, however there is one other champion fighting on skill and strength alone," Garen said.
"Katarina," she announced, already knowing the answer, being a fellow Noxian.
"Do you have a control on mana?" he asked. She shook her head in response and started staring at her blade.
The longest silence since they had met proceeded while the two of them ate and cooked off the last of the meat, storing some in sacks for later. They slept until the sun rose the next day, and set off to continue their journey.