Quinn grunted, scrunching up her eyes in pain, the little dwarfs inside her head still hammering her poor skull mercilessly, the loud chirping coming from the Institute's garden already informing her that, yes, it was indeed morning.
The scout grumbles, unwisely attempting to open her eyelids before shutting them again all the while hissing in pain, the brightness of the morning sun almost causing her inebriated brain to explode.
Quinn sighs, one hand nursing her aching head the other one blindly searching for her pillow intending to use the soft cushion as a shield against the treacherous rays of the sun currently scorching her face. The room was impossibly warm and the bright light was only making her headache worse turning her already considerably painful experience into a skull-splitting headache worthy of a Freljordian banquet and Quinn for once seriously started sympathizing with Diana's immense hatred of the sun and all that evil flaming light bulb represented.
Was now perhaps too late for her to join Diana's moon cult-thingy? Quinn didn't really mean to brag about it or anything but due to the scout's occasional insomnia and odd sleeping patterns the young woman had long since deducted that she would in fact make one hell of a Lunari acolyte if the need ever arose.
Quinn hisses in annoyance, her blind search for the pillow baring little to no results, she finally decides to just give up on the comfy cushion and promptly plant her face against the hard mattress, and the disorientated scout would have no doubt just followed that ingenious plan if not for the sudden realization that there was someone currently sleeping right next to her, lightly breathing against her earlobe.
Fuck, the ranger freezes, her body abruptly tensing, tiny droplets of moisture already forming against the sun-kissed surface of her forehead and Quinn gulps nervously as dazed amber eyes slowly open, bravely staring into the horrible plane of reality.
A familiar room, crossbow bolts, pens, journals and loads of plain white sheets of paper covered in quick sloppy sketches and her own messy handwriting seemed to occupy the majority of the desk, along with a beautiful painting of Valor, her dear pet and partner in crime, carefully placed near the center of the old wooden furnisher, haphazardly close enough to the empty container that was once used to safeguard the Demacian eagle's favorite snacks and bird treats.
Well, the iron case was wide open right now and Quinn didn't even have to look inside the small reinforced box to know that Valor had probably devoured every single one of the tasty bird treats and replaced them with dead earthworms or something equally gross and dirty.
Quinn sighed, almost cursing in frustration, it looked like her attempts to put the huge avian on a diet had failed yet again. Although the Demacian scout refrained from pondering about how a huge majestic bird like Valor had actually managed to pick the lock of a reinforced metallic container exclusively crafted in Piltover, not once or twice but three consecutive times in a row. Pondering such thoughts would surely grind away at the last scarce remains of her sanity and she had actually bigger problems to deal with right now, such as the mysterious sleeping stranger mumbling softly against her hair all the while breathing softly down her earlobe.
And… Valor's criminal behavior was probably Beatrice's fault anyway. Quinn just knew that the terrifying crow Swain carried around the Institute was admittedly the cause of her partner's recent shady behavior.
That evil feathery creature of death and destruction was surely corrupting her beloved kind eagle, Quinn was sure of it! Why else would Valor suddenly start coercing her into abandoning her military career in the Demacian army in order to move into Bilgewater and become a fearsome pirate? See? It was all that damned crow's fault and her crazy ideas influencing her pure innocent chil- Valor, but mama-bird Quinn was determined to get to the bottom of this one way or another!
Leaving those distracting thoughts for a more appropriate time the young scout pauses, her amber gaze still locked on the familiar desk containing her belongings and Quinn almost sighs in relief. Her current situation is more or less horrible she has to admit, but the young Demacian is happy since she had at least spent the night in the relative safety of her own chambers as opposed to some dangerous stranger's hidden lair even if she has obviously had some company.
The seconds keep ticking by, the sun is high in the sky among the clouds and Quinn is silently trying to decide between mustering all her courage in order to take a quick peek at the mysterious stranger or just locking herself in the bathroom until he/she (could it actually be an it? One never knew at the Institute.) gets bored and decides to leave her alone and let her cry her eyes out in peace.
Quinn's mind is leaning towards the latter of her two available choices and the dazed scout is about to lunge away from the bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom when strong warm arms suddenly wrap around her stomach, easily trapping her in place even as soft crimson lips abruptly start tracing small circles all over the poor flustered scout's naked shoulder blades.
Quinn stiffens, her face turning a vibrant red hue as the soft cushions rubbing against her back leaves no doubt about her mysterious assailant's gender. A female, there is an unknown woman currently pressing her breasts against the ranger's back, moaning softly against her earlobe and Quinn doesn't even know if she should feel scared or excited when another pair or arms suddenly wrap around her waist and pulls her closer. Quinn blinks, her gaze silently dropping downwards only to be greeted by the sight of a fellow Demacian markswoman smiling at her affectionately.
"Good morning, little birdie."
That's all the warning Quinn gets before Vayne suddenly kisses her (or maybe the huntress is just attacking her lips with her mouth? Quinn isn't really sure at this point) the action eliciting a small yelp of surprise from the younger woman.
The kiss doesn't last too long and Shauna seems kind of tired for some reason, but the action leaves Quinn breathless and the crimson faced scout has to wait for a few painfully long moments before her body finally remembers how to operate properly, promptly filling her lungs with sweet, sweet much needed oxygen. Meanwhile Vayne just stares at her lovingly all the while smiling softly.
"That stupefied expression of yours is quite adorable I must admit, but please try to keep your voice down. I don't really want to keep sharing you with Riven."
Riven, the name is oddly familiar to the still dazed forester and yet it takes less than mere seconds for Quinn to recognize the name of the young Noxian commander and former poster child of said nation that had actually defected from her unit after witnessing the atrocities committed by her countrymen against defenseless Ionian civilians during her service at the time of the infamous Ionian invasion.
Quinn had fought a few times against that unstoppable juggernaut of a woman while competing on the fields of justice, but other than her military background and her favorite weapon of choice the young Demacian didn't really know anything else about the ashen haired warrior and deadly swordswoman.
But that had obviously changed hadn't it? Quinn now knew that Riven slept like a log, liked her Demacians young, lithe and amber eyed and that she was obviously a really big fan of snuggling after nighttime activities. Oh gods, a Demacian noblewoman and an exiled Noxian commander, just how drunk had she been yesterday?
"Come on, Quinn stop dillydallying. Lux is waiting for us in the mess hall and you really don't want to keep Garen waiting. Trust me on that, that man has the patience of an agitated boar and the strength to match it."
Garen, the name of the Dauntless Vanguard's mighty captain and dear friend of the Demacian prince that would soon be governing their country, if Quinn had thought that she was in trouble before she was now starting to feel completely and utterly terrified. The young shy scout could already practically hear Karthus whispering her name and Kindred's light footsteps approaching her from the shadows.
"G-Garen? D-Did I also sleep with the Might of Demacia?"
The scout's voice was meek and scared, her beautiful amber eyes wet and wide with fear and Shauna couldn't really help but kiss the poor girl softly before hurriedly answering her lover's question.
"Gods, no, I am fine with rugged Noxian beauties and pretty girls, but there is no way I am letting that oaf of a man lay a single finger on my property!"
Vayne's words soothed her, the huntress' quick denial immediately calming the young ranger's heart, reminding Quinn to breathe again properly. The relief appeasing her very soul making the young scout completely overlook the end of her fellow Demacian's sentence and the dark possessive way that Vayne currently embraced her.
"But you kind of punched Ezreal in the face and then stole his date so I can only assume that Garen would like to know your intentions concerning his one and only dear sister."
A fearless huntress, a brave warrior and an arcane prodigy, all of them in a single night, not bad for a shy country bumpkin that usually spend most of her time in the forests and liked conversing with an overgrown Demacian eagle, right?
Did you see that Caleb? It looks like I have actually become quite the lady-killer. The joke is on you Valor, I don't really have to ruffle my feathers and start jumping around like an idiot in order to attract potential mates. I knew birds were terrible at giving love advice!
…Shit.
"I-Is Garen angry?"
"Not that I know of, he seemed kind of pleased when you stole Luxanna from that Ezreal guy and even settled your bar tab after you left Gragas'. I just hope you weren't stupid enough to take Lux's chastity or things might turn a little unpleasant otherwise."
Quinn just nodded, the lump in her throat growing with every passing second, her brain already filled with naked images of Lux screaming in ecstasy, her golden hair spread on the sheets and her trembling arms tightly wrapped around her sun-kissed body as the petite mage keeps shouting her name hoarsely, and the young Demacian ranger could only hope that those lustful images flashing in front of her eyes were actually just figments of her own perverted imagination and not actually memories of the previous night.
And then Quinn spotted Luxanna's shiny silver breastplate peeking from beneath her favorite armchair and abruptly realized that the deities of Runeterra hated her guts and the world was doomed to end in fire.
I am sorry Valor it looks like your Quinny won't actually become a wealthy pirate lord after all, she is going to be busy breaking rocks in some nameless Zaunite prison until she is old and wrinkled. Please remember to eat properly while I am gone and clean your feathers every other day.
"Right."
The ranger didn't even recognize the sound of her own broken voice when she spoke, most of Quinn's soul had already left her body after all and Vayne probably noticed it because she rushed to reassure the troubled woman the next second, unintentionally crashing the young ranger's last rays of hope in the process.
"It's ok Quinn, you don't have to be afraid. I can assure you that even if Riven and Lux chicken out or betray you, I assure you, no, I promise you that Shyvanna and I are going to take care of you and make sure that nothing bad is going to happen to you in case you refuse to accept the Crownguards' preposterous marriage proposal."
Shyvanna, a new name on her dreaded list of screw ups, wasn't that the name of the humanoid dragon woman that decided to leave the wilderness and fight for the glory of their nation? Why would Shyvanna care if Garen Crowguard sends Valor and her to play hopscotch in a Piltovian minefield? Quinn barely even knew the mysterious dragoness… Or did she, now? A blurry scene abruptly started playing inside the scout's head and Quinn could only sigh loudly as embarrassing images once again started flooding the Demacian ranger's mind.
"Let me guess, I somehow got down and dirty with the Half-Dragoness."
"Yep, and you even borrowed my dragon slayer outfit in order to reenact a scene from one of your favorite novels. Something about a brave hero saving a whole kingdom by teaching the evil dragon god that preyed on the townsfolk the importance of love and… let's just say tenderness. You owe me a new outfit by the way because there is just no way in hell I am ever going to wear that costume ever again after your little dragon slaying adventure."
A silent nod, Quinn isn't even surprised anymore, of course she had somehow managed to make love to a dragoness while she was inebriated.
So to summarize yesterday's events: She had gotten drunk for the first time in her admittedly short and probably already doomed life, bedded Vayne, punched Ezreal, seduced an exiled enemy commander, ruined her image, stole a noblewoman's chastity, angered Demacian nobility and then somehow found and screwed a dragon. Well, she at least didn't sleep with a yordle, right? That would be all kinds of freaky and awkward for far too many laws and reasons.
"Oh and before we leave, would you mind letting Lulu out of the oven? I know you two like power play, but the whole yordle slavery theme is kind of disturbing even if Lulu seems to be enjoying it immensely."
"Of course."
You know what? Fuck it. Being a pirate sounded like a cool idea anyway.