A continuation of the previous one-shot.
Tags: Dawnbringer Riven, Irelia, Drama, Fantasy au, Friendship, Family.
There is no sign of life for miles other than the two cloaked figures that are currently pushing the small wooden handcart forward. A gentle gust of wind is whipping the cracked soil of the desolate wasteland, lifting a few specks of dust and black ashes before violently tossing them back all over the miniature schisms of the dry brown ground. The two cloaked figures seem to be blatantly ignoring the brutal tantrums of the visibly hostile environment and the absence of life surrounding them. Solemn ghosts marching upon a dead world the corpse-gatherers walk under the heat of the blazing sun with sweat glistering under the dark fabrics of their hoods and unwavering conviction shinning in their respective gazes. The heat of the barren desert is inconceivable, the glare of the red fiery ball that's high up in the sky seemingly determined to sap the little strength the corpse-gatherers have left in their bodies.
A golden flask is passed between the two quiet figures, small sips of liquid life struggling to alleviate the pain in their dry throats as the two cloaked jackals of the battlefield continue marching on and on and on. Like soulless automatons mindlessly crawling under the bright sky. The mute shades' feet causing the cracked earth underneath them to crunch and sink even lower under the travelers' tired heels, the sound of the creaking tumbrel that's parting the frail ground around it accompanying the humanoid carrion birds on their oh so exhausting and solemn journey.
Like a burning ocean that's surrounding a rocky islet, the endless desert of the unnamed Wasteland appears to be stretching endlessly all around the quiet exhausted travelers, drowning their sights in hues of black, maroon, and brown, and greeting them with frequent waves of searing heat and scattered ashes shoved on their faces.
Sometimes the two cloaked shades stumble across the brittle skeleton of another traveler. A grim reminder of their mortality with bones utterly striped of their former flesh and lifeless arms that are still hopelessly extending towards the direction of the nearby human city. The taller of the two figures refuses to drink from the golden flask after witnessing the fifth such mortal reminder pathetically nestled in the shade of a crooked burned tree. The adult jackal swiftly motions for the child that's accompanying it to jump on top of the death wagon. Conserving their strength might mean the difference between life and death in the long run after all, but the other, shorter scavenger merely shakes their head and ignores the frowning pale woman's suggestion.
The winged cloaked jackal sighs as Riven's crystal blue orbs instantly dart back to the sight of the human settlement that's been steadily climbing on the horizon for at least an hour or so now. The iron city's pitiful metal carcass is silently glistering under the impossibly hot sun, the human settlement's enormous dark spirals of twisted metal and the patched improvised flags fluttering on the top of their sharp black arcs appearing the size of fuzzy toothpicks from the great distance.
Riven spares a moment to glance thoughtfully at the young cloaked child that's walking by the wooden handcart. Little Irelia is obviously panting, the poor girl is clearly exhausted even if the shorter scavenger refuses to admit it. The black-haired orphan's tired small feet moving at a brisk pace in order to catch up with the creaking wobbly tumbrel. The Dawnbringer attempts to gesture towards the top of the death wagon once more, but the stubborn little rascal simply continues ignoring her. Tsk!
The celestial warrior frowns, but Riven opts to just devote her attention to dragging forward her bloodstained cargo and the handcart instead of arguing with the small feather-thief that's walking by her side. The stranded celestial can't help but wonder though about how the poor orphan girl would have accomplished reaching the distant ruined city by herself in the past, especially since the young scavenger wouldn't only have to travel to the old crumbling settlement, but do so while also dragging her filthy death wagon there.
Some kind of hellish mutated carrion bird suddenly croaks obnoxiously while circling above the travelers' heads and the gruff Dawnbringer can only grit her teeth and keep marching forward while inwardly cursing the loud cowardly vulture. More sweat slowly rolls down the adult jackal's white eyebrow. Irelia waits for another moment or two and then the annoyed young feather-thief abruptly shoves her precious golden flask towards the stranded angel's lips. Riven blink in surprise after witnessing the young child's extremely serious expression. Jade-colored orbs angrily glaring into the depths of the pale angel's azure mirrors and Riven finally accepts the water after perceiving the amount of fear and anxiety that's contained in the little rascal's fleeting stare.
Oh..
Irelia is afraid that her only friend in this world is going to pass out in the middle of nowhere due to her own stubbornness and dehydration. The white-haired angel returns the golden flask after a quick and exaggerated sip of its contents and the little orphan doesn't utter a word when the cloaked winged woman momentary leans down to pat the top of the young scavenger's hooded head reassuringly.
...
This vile excuse for a town doesn't even resemble anything that the immortal warrior has ever witnessed before. The scavengers and the bandits of the wasteland seem to have taken residence inside the decrepit remains of the ancient rusted skyscrapers, constructing little crooked nests like insects inside and around these corroded forgotten buildings and setting up shops at the shadows of the sleeping abandoned titans.
Dirty children and beggars alike are eyeing the travelers' tumbrel greedily as Irelia and her cloaked celestial guardian tiredly enter the crowded confines of the dilapidated human settlement. A few tanned armed city guards make as if to approach them and bar their way before they suddenly lay eyes on the familiar face of the young orphan scavenger and unexpectedly decide to move on without a single word of acknowledgement to the mysterious cloaked travelers that entered their town. Just how often did the quiet little feather-thief travel all the way to this lost settlement for the guards to actually remember her face?
The gruff voices of loud merchants and enraged scavengers can be heard from somewhere beyond the hunched skeletons of the rusted ancient buildings, the jackals and carrion birds of the immortal battlefields haggling over the potential prices of their broken artifacts and the meager trinkets and exotic possessions that the violent crooks had managed to gather under the burning light of the scorching sun while bathing in crimson.
The cloaked orphan already motions for Riven to pull their creaky tumbrel towards the cacophony of human activity and the Dawnbringer instantly complies after she spares a quick glance at the dirty handcart to make sure that their precious cargo was still covered by a heavy piece of permanently bloodstained filthy brown canvas. The death wagon creaks forward as the disguised celestial's crystal blue orbs wander across the narrowed pairs of eyes that are watching them through the cracks on the walls of pitiful shacks and the shadows of the shattered metal buildings alike.
Irelia's silvery blades abruptly lift-off in the air as a warning of sorts to the other hungry jackals of the razed wastes and a few of those starving dogs pause to examine the peculiar design of the sentient weapon with some degree of envy swirling in their visibly irritated gazes before the ghosts of humanity soundlessly retreat back into their dusty and sunless rickety residences. The dark kennels that they themselves had built through their own sweat, tears and blood that they were regrettably doomed to inhabit.
Riven continues to spare occasional glances towards the shady predatory forms that are lurking inside their rusted and barren husks of coppery metal and human misery as the death wagon slowly leaves that part of the town behind. The tumbrel's wooden wheels nosily bumping against the numerous cracks of the old shattered cobblestone road.
...
It is almost late afternoon and the sky has already started to somewhat dim down when the cloaked green-eyed orphan leads the celestial warrior outside of a shop that's smothered in the shadows of two hunched, crumbling skyscrapers. That particular shop is nothing more than a big shed consisting of wooden planks, stitched pieces of stained and shredded fabrics of various colors and blackened sheets of metal that were once no doubt melted down and formed by destroying breathtaking celestial breastplates and legendary demon swords of great beauty and historical value.
Irelia mutedly points at a faded sign that's hanging at the side of the building. The metal plate must have been some kind of sign pointing to a road or even a famous landmark in the past perhaps because the remnants of a big faded white arrow are still there, pointing at a utterly meaningless direction now that the owner of the store had decided to hang the metal signpost vertically instead of horizontally as to make the faded white arrow point straight at the forbidding door of his shabby establishment.
The Dawnbringer's eyes narrow as the perplexed celestial female attempts to make out the terrible scribbles that are etched on the surface of the tilted signpost, but the cloaked pale woman only manages to make out a G, an R and a particularly misshapen A before Irelia starts tugging on her sleeve impatiently.
The stranded celestial warrior raises a sole pale eyebrow as she curiously observes the pouting orphan's frustrated scowl and then blinks as the little feather-thief starts frantically gesturing towards the setting afternoon sun and the slummy store and the heavy handcart and all of the eerily silent and seemingly uninhabited buildings in their near vicinity. Riven smiles apologetically under the cover of her brown hood and then proceeds to pull the wooden tumbrel inside the shop through a side-entrance under the agitated stare of the pouting orphan and the angry girl's snappy instructions.
0000
"-relia"
"-gas"
The Dawnbringer doesn't pay too much attention to the fat ginger-haired man or the tired orphan as the crafty little feather-thief starts trading her wares with the owner of the dusty dimly lighted establishment. Riven prefers to catch her breath after dragging the wooden tumbrel for so long and maybe examine the goods of the first human shop the angel has ever set foot inside in her long lifetime.
Much like the little scavenger's secluded shack in the middle of nowhere the majority of the shops wares are apparently focused around the spoils of immortal battlefields and the two age-less races' destructive clashes. There are scratched swords and bent diadems, precious gemstones that were previously parts of ornate sets of majestic celestial armors and bloodstained gauntlets inscribed with vile words in the foul language of the wretched daemons. There are pouches and bags filled with the gory plumages of slain angels, whole sacks containing demon horns and an endless assortment of nondescript bones shoved into leather rucksacks of all sizes that are patiently waiting to be sorted out.
Riven shivers as her gaze helplessly wanders across the sea of dusty shelves that are weighted down by the remains of both her foes and comrades, her initial horror quickly turning into shock and then anger when the disgusted angel warrior abruptly spots a collection of pouches filled with bone meal made from the butchered bodies of fallen immortal corpses. Such an ironic twist of fate. The immortals had destroyed the human race with their wars and their arrogance and now the survivors of humanity were using the dead bodies of their proud warriors to sustain their pitiful existences.
And while that might have been perhaps a truly suitable punishment for all of those that had previously basically ruined the sons and daughters of man, the thought of such a dishonorable use for the body of a fallen warrior was something that irked the Dawnbringed to no end and made her blood boil. Especially since considering that if it wasn't for the kindness of the lonely orphan girl and the cute little rascal's compassionate actions the disguised cloaked angel would have certainly ended up the same way as those slain immortals that were now resting inside their dusty crushed bags and sordid leather pouches.
Riven takes a deep breath as she wills her fists to unclench and the light blue pair of wings behind her back to settle down before the burly gluttonous desert merchant notices them twitching under the cover of her weathered cloak. The white-haired woman leisurely moving to stand closer to the orphan that's presently haggling over the price of her morbid war trophies.
The young scavenger merely peeks at the brooding celestial for a second before the flustered orphan resumes showing the fat store owner a collection of shattered metal shards and scorched blades and pouches filled with smeared ivory feathers. The yelling orphan's hands frantically gesturing at her macabre collection of useless junk as the middle-aged merchant nodes or waves and seems to be palming random trinkets off Irelia's offered grisly pile.
The Dawnbringer silently observes the two yelling, and strangely enough, smiling opponents as the little scavenger and the ginger bearded man continue exchanging their wares with determination and swiftness comparable to an immortal soldier entering the flay of battle. The ginger-haired man seems intent on buying every sharp piece of metal and broken sword or weapon that he can spot in the feather-thief's pile. His greedy fingers even going as far as gesturing towards the floating silver blades that are quietly floating behind the little red-faced rascal's back. Whereas the cloaked child scavenger seems more interested in restocking on food and water. Irelia slaps the burly merchant's fat fingers away from her sentient silver blades and shoves another rusty dagger and an empty sheath and after some careful consideration what looks like three golden demon teeth in front of the clearly unamused trader before the evidently smug gluttonous man rewards the little girl with a sealed wooden container and a few tiny semitransparent crystals.
Riven frowns as the hooded celestial curiously examines the miniature crystals from afar, her frown remaining until the puzzled angel abruptly realizes that the milky white crystals weren't actually dangerous magical gemstone containing powerful ivory mana, but simply some kind of sugar-based candy for children.
The fat trader openly guffaws when the little scavenger girl angrily points at another box filled with a much bigger quantity of semitransparent crystal-candies and the young orphan visibly deflates when the middle-aged man instantly shakes his head right and left in disagreement. The little feather-thief slowly rises from her stool with a deep, deep sigh. The little black-haired troublemaker braves an uncertain glance at the hidden face of the hooded celestial warrior that's standing next to her and then the orphan grudgingly gestures for the smug, grinning trader to approach her dusty death wagon.
The celestial swordswoman quickly takes note of how the orphan's floating silver blades remain behind them for just a brief second or two and then lunge down to steal one of the semitransparent crystal-candy shards from the big wooden box when the fat merchant is too distracted by following the young orphan girl to notice its absence. The hovering silver blades then hastily fly back next to Irelia in order to toss the stolen candy-shard at the awaiting hands of the small criminal and the Ionian child hurriedly pockets it.
Meanwhile the gruff merchant that's presently standing in front of Irelia with his back turned to her grins in anticipation as the middle-aged bearded trader proceeds to remove the rough canvas cover from the morbid handcart and inspect the rest of the little thief's grim cargo. The young orphan spares another unsure glance at her newly appointed, exclusive guardian angel to check if the silent female warrior had realized her theft before the fidgeting girl suddenly averts her gaze when the two women's eyes abruptly meet behind the turned back of the apparently excited shop owner.
"Bah!"
The ginger-haired fat merchant comically grunts either displeased by the remaining goods of the little scavenger or trying to lower the price of the child's gathered wares, and the young orphan is for some reason particularly silent during this last exchange. The quiet girl's eyes are downcast as Irelia mutedly nods her head in agreement with the fat merchant's demands and accepts his deal without any complaints.
The burly man then abruptly turns to gesture at the disguised Dawbringer and utters an impatient command of some sort and all the color suddenly drains from the young orphan's face. Irelia's eyes widen.
"..?"
Riven approaches the two humans as her savior starts yelling and gesturing wildly at the bearded man, the orphan's small shaky fingers gradually forming tight firsts as Irelia starts pointing towards the deceased angel and demon corpses that are still loaded on the bloodstained handcart and then at herself before hastily pointing at the cloaked immortal celestial warrior that's observing her curiously before the girl shakes her head in a defiant show of denial.
*Snort
But the burly man just grunts something dismissive once more and utters something under his breath. Irelia stomps her foot on the floor stubbornly, the bored merchant doesn't seem to care about the orphan girl's wishes however since he keeps glaring at Riven impatiently and motioning for the cloaked winged jackal to carry the dead bodies away from the tumbrel and into another chamber.
The thoughtful celestial complies without a word, carefully lifting the corpses the stranded swordswoman obediently carries the first mangled body inside a back room much like a slaughterhouse with piles upon piles of immortal carcasses and limbs scattered across the grimy and gory counters of stained wood and the sticky red floor that smells strongly of iron and copper.
The shocked swordswoman spots stained packages with angel and demon meat, unseeing eyes staring at her from the rich collection of boxes and jars that are peeking at her from the room's inky black, ominous shadows. Torn wings, crushed bones and dotted feathers are surrounding the horrified woman from every direction.
Now Riven knows how a man can get so fat when everything in this world is withering and dying away. Now she knows why the human child would look so reluctant to let her carry the dead bodies to this slaughterhouse. The Dawnbringer gently places down the remains of a grey-skinned demon on top of a bloodstained counter and then returns back at the front room in order to do the same with the rest of the orphan's reeking wares. The little black-haired girl is still decidedly staring at her feet with sad and upset eyes and Riven can also make out that she is clenching a lone azure-colored feather between her shaky dirty hands, stroking the soft blue object absentmindedly.
The little girl looks about to cry as she tensely waits for the Dawnbringer's reaction. Waiting for the celestial warrior to judge her sins and crimes. Riven sighs, after the hooded angel makes her last trip to the slaughter room and proceeds to dump the demon's body on top of a random counter the stranded celestial swordswoman leans down to tenderly wrap her hands around the poor child's trembling form and press her pale chin against the little girl's crown.
It is really unfortunate, but the pale-haired woman can't offer the little feather-thief any words that the child would understand. The Dawnbringer has spent mere months at the company of the currently trembling troublemaker. That's not enough time for Riven to learn how to convey her thoughts in the orphan child's language. The former soldier doesn't know the magical words that will stop the little scavenger's tears and make the feather-thief smile once more.
What the hooded angel can convey is that she understands why young Irelia would do such terrible and even despicable things. What she can offer at the crying child is merely her honest and unbiased acceptance of the little carrion bird's identity and forgive the small scavenger for her past and future crimes.
Because the celestial warrior knows that it wasn't the little feather-thief that almost ended the world so many eons ago, or the fat merchant that's observing them curiously that forced this child to roam the horrendous battlefields and trade feathers and bones for her bread, milk and water. And wasn't it perfectly normal for small toddlers to love eating sweets and candy? And yet this bawling creature created by war, the sobbing orphan of the wastelands that was silently begging her for forgiveness would have to literally crawl in blood and gore for hours upon hours every day under the hot scorching desert sun just to taste a tiny crystal-candy's ephemeral sweetness.
Riven remains perfectly still as the bawling orphan's small arms suddenly tighten around her waist, the delicate light blue feather still clenched between the little child's trembling and smeared fingers as young Irelia presses her face against the chest of the kind white-haired angel. For how long was this poor tormented creature forced to endure her loneliness in the barren wastelands of this world? For how many nights did her precious little feather-thief cry alone inside her moldy secluded shack with no one there to care enough to stop the flood of her tears?
The Dawbringer sighs as she glares at the visibly annoyed trader to discourage the fat burly man from commenting on what's happening in front of his smart beady eyes. A small reassuring sound already building up inside the celestial warrior's chest before it climbs out of her breasts and abruptly reaches the crying orphan's ears.
The stunned merchant looks at the hooded female incredulously, the child in her arms appearing surprised and Riven unwittingly blushes when the orphan's bawling slowly stops only to turn into happy confused giggling! The Dawnbringer cringes even if her crystal blue orbs betray her real emotions, the ones that aren't worn on her red stern face that's attempting to hide her embarrassment.
Just look at her, a mighty elite angel warrior and a veteran immortal soldier like herself now cooing like an overgrown pigeon just to calm down this dirty little rascal with the grabby dirty hands that enjoys nothing more than stroking her light blue plumage. But the sound of the orphan girl's relieved laughter soon dispels those bitter thoughts from the mind of the grumpy angel.
It is worth it, Riven grudgingly admits when after a mere single strained heartbeat of her once injured muscle the tiny jackal that's giggling against her chest seemingly calms down and relaxes completely. Protecting the smile of this poor tormented creature is worth acting like an idiot, the stranded angel decides as a tiny childish hand hesitantly starts stroking the brown fabric of her cloak above her right wing. little eager fingers carefully caressing her hidden plumage.
Protecting her little feather-thief is worth it.
The white-haired angel suddenly rises with Irelia still hanging from her arms, crystal blue orbs staring fixedly at the beady eyes of the shocked fat merchant as the celestial swordswoman slowly raises one hand with her palm facing skywards and wills her unworldly magic to form an azure orb of pure light. A psychical manifestation of her soul, a crystallization of her magical power. A symbol of hope. An oath to protect the happiness of the fragile being that stole one of her precious feathers and somehow managed to save both her mind and her life. Riven's celestial essence instantly cools down to create a magnificent semitransparent orb with tiny sparks and soothing azure and white glimmers of light that are swimming inside the depths of the immortal artifact like radiant fishes wandering under the pulsing waves of a gentle azure ocean. The newly formed artifact's inner light curiously enough humming in perfect synch with the little feather-thief's now quiet and steadier awed breathing.
The stranger with the eyes of clear blue sky and the shifting and twitching brown cloak smiles politely at the speechless desert merchant that's staring at the little rascal's companion with big wide eyes the size of saucers as if he is actually seeing a ghost. Or an angel.
"I'll trade you the candy for the orb." Declares the cloaked stranger in a weird language the melodic hues of which can only belong to the likes of angels or other celestials and at that moment the shop owner's eyes almost burst out of his eye sockets. The bearded man's throat goes dry. The cloaked stranger then proceeds to carefully place the shiny sphere in the hands of the stunned trader and point at the box with the ivory semitransparent sweets as if honestly asking for the speechless burly man's permission to take her reward.
Gragas can only blink and nod his head in agreement and the pale woman instantly seizes the sweets only to offer them at her suddenly shy and embarrassed young feather-thieving companion.
...
The shop owner is still clenching the magical orb in his fat sweaty hands when the two women casually leave the establishment with the taller of the two wasteland jackals dragging away the creaking handcart with ease and the smiling orphan happily eating her candy while walking by her celestial protector's side.
Only when the child and the angel disappear from the burly man's sight and the ginger-haired merchant is left alone in his shop with his thoughts and the humming of the beautiful orb pulsing in his palms does Gragas dare to breathe. Only then does the wasteland trader dare to collapse on the stained dirty floor of his store and take a few frantic breaths in order to avoid downright fainting. Only then does the scared ginger-haired trader realizes what has just happened.
J-just how in the shattered world did Irelia, that parentless scavenger brat manage to form an alliance with a celestial creature of such immense power?! Now he'll have to stop tricking her when she visits his shop and start offering her some decent and normal deals! Fucking waste-rat-
As if sensing his impure thoughts the azure orb of the Dawnbringer abruptly hums loudly and lightly zaps the ginger bearded man's fat fingers.
The end
Like stealing candy from a wasteland merchant: Well, you guys wanted more of the story. I didn't have much to add to the whole concept, but I thought that I could expand the lore of this world a little bit and show you a human settlement. There was one major change that happened in this story and that being the crystals that Irelia was so adamant to purchase. The crystals were initially broken Hex-tech crystal shards from the old world that the scavengers of the new wastes would use as sources of power and maybe channel the remaining magic of the shards to purify their food and water and make them consumable. I am not sure if that would happen through hex-tech-powered mini distilleries/purifiers or just hocus-pocus, but yeah that was the first idea. Also the little crystals might be used to power up Irelia's blades since there was never an explanation for the floating weapon's functions or origins in this story. Maybe it is an old celestial artifact that the orphan found in a battlefield and uses hex-shards to power and control it since Irelia lacks the magical powers of an angel.
I had written the story like I just explained, but then there was this thought that kept bothering me while I started editing the chapter. Irelia is still a child, yes she is a survivalist and she would want to buy useful things like good that would help her survive until she has gathered more trinkets to sell at the town. And yet she is really young and grew up without parents so no one would have taught her how to control her desires for things or stopped her from buying whatever she wanted if she had the money/things to trade. Making the crystals candy works better in that regard. Irelia's cute stubbornness and determination to taste the candy showcases her character and her childish traits and also gives the story a more dramatic twist. Irelia wanted the candy and unwittingly almost destroyed her friendship with Riven because of her thoughtless selfishness, she then realized that and started crying. It makes a lot of more sense for Irelia to react like that because she recognized her error of putting her friendship at risk while buying something useless over buying something really important that she needed like magical fuel for her only weapon. What's your opinion? Also, I drew something, I might use it for a cover so let's all pretend that it looks like part of Gragas' shop. Or not, I just like drawing black lines.
I am too sleepy and tired to think of a joke right now so here's a little poem I had ready.
Teemo forgives, but never forgets unless he can eat the inside of your chest.
On the darkest mushroom in a day without light, even Lee sin would shudder at the dark yordle's sight.
His teeth like swords, his fluffy face so cute, Teemo watches you whenever you are nude.
Whenever you eat, you smile or you even sleep, you might feel the dark yordle's cruel grip.
He is an army of one, a splinter of two worlds. His lust for power devours his foes' souls.
Such tragedy, such horror, such a sad piece of art.
The dark yordle smiles behind your turned back.
A litany of cries won't save you from his wrath.
The Swift Scout is coming, his footsteps muddled with blood.
And if you are laughing or somehow found amusement by reading these words
Bow down swine, to Teemo, the Twister of Souls!
-From a collection of Noxian lullabies. 1022X, at least two decades before the emergence of the Mushroom Empire and the Shroom Knight-cultists.