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Imagine dying, drowning in a frigid ocean of ice-cold water, fighting for your life as the merciless torrents of darkness pull you under the rippling surface, the blurry dot of the sun covered in a thick veil of moisture, slowly disappearing under the waves, as your screams escape your lips in the forms of bubbles.

Your body slowly shutting down.

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You are trying to breath, but all you manage to do is fill your lungs with even more inky black water. You keep calling for help, but no one ever rushes to your side and soon your vision finally caves in and disappears, leaving you in complete and utter darkness.

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Your heartbeat slows down, your tears get mixed with the salty water as your consciousness takes a back seat and your toes finally reach the bottom of the abyss.

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Now try imagining the panic, the despair, the sheer terror getting a hold of your brain, overwhelming your other senses as you are silently floating above the dark abyss, limbs heavy and eardrums pumped full of water, waiting for the inevitable last traces of oxygen to leave your system and turn you into a hollow husk, devoid of life.

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Unfortunately that dreaded moment of nonexistence never seems to arrive as your violent departure from the world of the living never actually happens. You are trapped in the last moments of your death and you keep straggling, choking under the waves as you wait for a heartbeat and then another one and it's only more than six heartbeats later when you finally realize that you are somehow still conscious. Blind, deaf and paralyzed and yet somehow still breathing, floating lifelessly inside this eternal veil of darkness.

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The seconds keep passing by, the minutes turn to hours and you can't even raise your eyes in order to gaze at the moist black sky spreading above you head, and yet you are still alive after an hour and then two more and even though your fingers are twitching and the water is flooding through your nostrils your heart is still mysteriously capable of sustaining your pitiful existence, the lonely sound it produces the only thing that keeps you company as you keep floating around your black watery grave.

For several lifetimes, you are mentally screaming for help inside your sunless cage.

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The concept of time has no place here. You are mute, deaf, blind and paralyzed and your brain is currently out of commission, crippled by the enormous lack of oxygen, denied to you by your terrible predicament, but you are still alive, choking on your last breath, but alive nevertheless and conscious, forced to continue existing under the blurry dark waves. And you are crying.

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And then the world around you explodes and the water burst into flames. You are trying to scream, but you obviously can't so you just lay in there as the healers start surrounding you and the pain makes you scream inside your head until you finally pass out.

Or at least that's what Vayne experiences when she abruptly returns into the world of the living before again fading back to unconsciousness.

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Voices, soft whispers lazily coiling inside her ears, grudgingly traveling through the thick veil of ever-present darkness stretching in every possible direction, but the vampire just ignores them. Words and speech in general are the tools of the humans you see, they charm and deceive, spiting their honey covered poison, promising love and kindness only to hurt their unsuspecting prey, trapping them in a perverted version of their own fragile dreams. And then they kill them.

The vampire remains still, breathing weakly under the covers, her movements restrained by her blood drenched bandages and the terrible wounds covering her entire body, but Vayne doesn't really mind. She has nowhere else to go, anyway. No place in this world would openly welcome a rabid vampire. Except maybe from the Shadow Isles…

Whispers, more voices, someone is calling her name and warm fingers delicately slip under the covers gently taking a hold of the useless lump of meat that not too long ago Vayne used to consider her dominant right hand.

"Hey, Shauna, it's me again, Quinn. How are you feeling today?"

The vampire ignores her, she continues lying onto the uncomfortable, hard mattress and sweat drenched covers, sneaking a few shallow breaths every now and then every time Quinn leans to press her lips against the shattered digits of her hand.

Her body is heavy, her brain is on fire, her eyes are uselessly moving behind the ragged cover of her blindfold, a precautious measure intended to protect the Night Hunter's sensitive eyes from the painful intrusion of the sunlight. Vayne doesn't really mind the blindfold, in fact she is grateful for it. The soft barrier of the fabric is a nice addition to her current situation, obscuring the form of this cruel world and the scary humans inhabiting it from her tired, dry eyes.

She is mute, weak and blind, but she at least doesn't have to utter her mistress' name, or crawl on her hands and knees and start licking the scout's boots like a obedient dog, trying to please its master, and she certainly prefers to witness this endless pit of darkness stretching around her eyelids instead of having to witness the sadistic smile that is no doubt blooming on the soft lips of the human she once used to call her mate.

"Not much of a talker, huh? Well, it's ok I guess. You always seemed to prefer actions over words, so how about a goodnight hug?"

The scout pauses if only for a heartbeat before giving Shauna's hand a small squeeze.

"Or maybe you would prefer a goodnight kiss instead? hmm? how about it, Shauna?"

A small chuckle, a mischievous smile, a smirk fading in a matter of seconds after her implication is left unanswered. Quinn tries to smile, but she fails miserably and she sighs as her thumb starts rubbing small soothing circles around the scarred, bandaged palm of her vampire.

"Will you please talk to me, today? Just a few words? J-Just call my name, it doesn't have to be anything important… Please?"

Shauna almost starts laughing, or crying, actually for there isn't much of a difference really, pain and joy have kind of lost their meaning for her after her lovely encounter with the Eternal Nightmare. She contemplates her next move for a few moments until she finally decides that it would probably be wiser for her to remain silent and avoid angering her ruthless mistress. And so she waits in silence, just existing, quivering inside the hospital gown and the crimson bandages and the various plastic tubes and cords feeding her strange transparent chemicals, painfully anchoring her soul to life. The scout sighs again.

"…You aren't going to talk to me, are you?

Of course not, there isn't any plausible way, she is going to speak to her, or Janna or the Summoners or any human for that matter. Her voice is scratchy and wavering, breaking at every breath and there is no way in hell Shauna is going to open her bruised lips and waste her precious life-air in order to converse with her traitorous non-mate. Quinn is just trying to trick her anyway, she is probably going to start hurting her the moment she opens her mouth and starts talking and she will then laugh at her and call her a monster when she had tried confessing to her. Quinn is a human, Shauna is a vampire, it is inevitable really.

A small knock on the door later and a small tired sigh suddenly escapes the scout's mouth and Quinn tries to smile as she carefully leans in and presses one final chaste kiss against the pale, bandaged forehead of the huntress.

"I have to go now, but I promise that I will come back to visit you soon and spend even more time with you. I might even bring along Lux and Ahri and then the four of us are going to play cards and exchange stories."

Silence

"Heh, I know what you must be thinking. But Quinn, Luxana is just a sheltered lightmage, what kind of stories is she going to spin to us? If only you knew how mistaken you are, dear Shauna! Lux's life might seem dull and boring from an outsider's perspective, but that's wrong, and you are going to change your mind the moment she starts weaving her stories, trust me on that one. She's been in some really interesting situations, I tell you! Would you like that, Shauna? Would you like to hear about our dear Lux's marvelous adventures?"

Silence, silence and heavy whizzing, another knock breaks the fragile veil of silence and Quinn sighs again. She begrudgingly moves towards the open door and the impatient nurse gesturing for her to approach, annoyance clearly written on her face.

"Visiting hours are over, miss Quinn. We've talked about you breaking curfew before, do I really have to inform the Kinkou ninja?"

Quinn has half a mind to yell at the annoying woman, but grudgingly shakes her head and admits her defeat. She pauses to spare a last glance at the emotionless visage of the huntress before raising her eyes in order to meet the nurse's impatient gaze.

"Come on Sal, Shauna is scared and in pain and we both know that I am only trying to help her recover, so what's the problem?"

The elderly woman grunts in acknowledgment before carefully closing the door, obscuring the vampire inside, she produces a key out of her pocket and then locks the door before fixing the Demacian with a furious glare.

"Look, Quinn, I know that your intentions are pure and all, but I can still remember what happened during your last unauthorized nighttime visit and I can still recall the image of miss Shauna repeatedly slamming her head against the wall of her chambers, trying to earn your forgives for carelessly touching your hand without permission. Akali was forced to sedate her in order to stop her from injuring herself any further and Soraka had almost had a heart attack when she arrived and found Shauna in such a delirious state."

The scout flinches, the image of Vayne mutely asking for forgiveness, hands turned into fists, forehead dripping with warm blood, still relatively vivid in her own mind. She nods and she doesn't even realize it when she abruptly leaves the hospital's premises, her feet leading her towards the Demacian section of the living quarters. A moment later and a blurry flurry of feathers and Valor is perched on top of her shoulder guard, rubbing his head against her cheek while cooing soothingly.

It takes a bit of time for Quinn to actually react to his presence. The scout pauses mid stride and then blinks a couple of times before her hand finally starts rising, gliding through the air only to stop against her partner's folded wings, affectionately stroking the eagle's feathers. But even though her hands are occupied and the ghost of a smile starts tuging at the corners of her lips when Valor starts cawing appreciatively, Quinn's mind is still troubled and her thoughts are gloomy and all over the place, so she doesn't recognize Lux when the lightmage suddenly approaches her from behind and embraces and in fact her mind doesn't even register the noblewoman's presence.

Because Quinn can still remember the panicked expression of the injured vampire when Shauna accidently touched her hand and because the huntress looks cold and pale and distant and she doesn't even look at her anymore or react to her voice. And because Shauna hasn't really tried to communicate with anyone since that horrifying incident almost four days ago.

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