Tags: Lux, Riven.
Luxanna coughs as she fruitlessly attempts to drag her heavy and unresponsive body out of the ruined bloodstained trench that she had somehow managed to fall into. The deafening screams of the dying and the dead encompassing her hobbling form, the outline of the Demacian spy's body barely noticeable inside the venomous shroud of chemicals that were being unleashed by the callous death barrage of the Zaunite smelters.
Poor Lux's mind had still trouble fully comprehending the betrayal of the Noxian High Command. Bombing their own soldiers along with the ragtag army of the Ionian rebels that were fighting for their land? Sacrificing their brave warriors like lambs to the slaughter just to claim a hollow immoral victory that meant absolutely nothing in the long run? Inconceivable! Demacia would never go to such lengths in order to avoid defeat! No country would ever do so other than Noxus.
Luxanna screams alongside the shattered remnants of an Ionian squad as another barrel filled with acid lands between herself and the injured warriors in an earsplitting explosion of boiling sienna. The light mage barely has the time to dive back into the foul-smelling trench as numerous droplets of caustic liquid spill overhead disintegrating the fleeing Ionian squadron. Lux desperately presses her palms against her ears and closes her wet sky blue orbs as the voices of the dying rebels quickly dissolve into a sickening quartet of throaty bellowing and howling.
And at this point, while being surrounded by constant screaming amidst choking in the epicenter of the Zaunite bombardment, the blonde Demacian spy is too busy trying to block out the sounds. Too scared out of her mind, mentally cursing her superiors for sending her undercover in that horrifying piece of hell on Valoran to actually notice the Noxian shadow that hits the ground of her ruined trench moments before another Zaunite death-casket explodes above them.
The panicked light mage whimpers, hands still clutching the sides of her head and her swallow breathing coming out in quick uneven sobs wet with sheer terror. Yet blue eyes grudgingly open. Lux has to get up and abandon the relative safety of her slowly collapsing trench. She has to leave this place before the fumes of the hellish toxins finish her off. She has to get a hold of herself and find her light baton among the smoking corpses of the charred warriors in the hole so she can perhaps defend herself against the white-haired woman that's staring at her in anger.
Lux can only watch in shock and immense fright when she is suddenly met with the fierce crimson glare of Noxus' notorious poster child. Wide wet blue eyes merely capable of taking in the sight of the glowering white-haired warrior, practically bulging in surprise. Riven's grim expression, the shattered runic sword held in her bleeding hands, the stained pieces of faded armor strapped onto her wounded body. The endless array of fresh chemical burns marking an otherwise perfect pale body.
The Demacian noble gulps. Faced with the female manifestation of the Noxian grim reaper while trapped in a bloodied sinking hole the blonde noblewoman meekly raises her petite trembling arms in a show of surrender. There is no way Lux can dodge a swing from that enormous sword in such an enclosed space, no chance of her retrieving her light baton from the muddy floor before the Noxian soldier cuts her down mercilessly. The spy's only option is to surrender and hope for a quick death that's less horrifying than the nightmarish ones being dealt above ground.
"I- I give up." Croaks the young Crownguard while helplessly glancing at the remnants of the shattered runic blade. "J-just make it quick.. p-please." She says, her voice low, almost getting lost in the havoc of the ongoing Zaunite barrage. The pale swordswoman is close enough to read the blonde spy's lips, however. She is close enough to taste her terror.
The Noxian eyes the frightened aristocrat for half-second as the chemical barrage outside of their trench continues stealing lives and erasing dreams as if they were nonexistent. The exiled warrior then makes her choice. Luxanna yelps in both alarm and fright as a bleeding arm grabs a hold of her muddy coat and shoves her against the crimson wall of the trench roughly.
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The lone figure's boots keep sliding purposefully against the soft wet blades of glass, muffled footsteps leaving small crevices and messy imprints across almost the entire length of the mud-covered crossroad. The blurry figure remains silent, its weathered brown cloak successfully concealing the identity of this rain-soaked quiet ghost.
*Kabooom, the echo of a distant thunder echoes among the damp foliages, a few glimpses of white lightning poking from between the interwoven dome of the rather lush treeline.
The solitary traveler merely opens their stride, muddy boots sinking into the damp earth under the violent symphony of the ongoing rainstorm. The pitter-patter of the sky's clear tears falling like tiny waterfalls, small droplets soon forming small lakes and then thin rivers on top of the hurried traveler's wet attire.
*Kabooom, the roar of the passing storm echoes once more from somewhere between the clouds and the lone traveler actually pauses to spare a glance at the heavy lead blanket that's engulfing the sky before continuing their solemn march.
Abruptly, and while wrapped in the booming echo of the spitting clouds, a few paces away from the cloaked wanderer, another humanoid silhouette lunges from behind its cover.
"Wait!" Cries out the equally damp newcomer, a hint of audible desperation laced with clear feminine hues now mixing with the song of the mourning nature. The crunching of worn footwear against soaked earth being the only reply the desperate woman receives as the hooded figure merely keeps walking forward.
"H-hey, I said wait!" The second traveled yelps under the barrage of falling raindrops, the panicked stranger's tired feet slipping and stumbling as the young woman wrapped in the blue raincoat frantically attempts to reach the stoic cloaked wanderer. But once again the blurry silhouette completely ignores her.
"Wait, please- Don't leave me-aaah!" The poor exhausted girl screams as she accidentally stumbles upon a tree root that was previously concealed by a thick coating of mud and ends up landing painfully on the brown wet ground.
Blue eyes blinking rapidly trying to remove the falling rain from tired orbs tinted with immense despair. Lux dares to glance at the retreating figure of the Noxian warrior once more only to realize that Riven's form has all but disappeared behind a wall of overgrown plant life and spiked bushes.
The Demacian spy is in the middle of darting behind the Noxian deserter that had so surprisingly decided to drag her out of the hellish Zaunite chemical barrage that had instantly ended the war, when a sudden coughing fit painfully forces Lux back on her knees. The blonde light mage grimaces as she trembles and tosses about in the cold damp mud until the poor spy finally curls up into a ball and focuses on just breathing properly.
*Kaboom, the sky crackles and flashes in anger. The sick Crownguard member closes her eyes and wraps her arm around her pitiful self, the weakened spy's clothes now utterly drenched in liquid dirt and cold freezing rainwater.
Coughing weakly while shaping her body like a tight bundle of trembling limbs seems to be the full extent of the light mage's current abilities right now. Luxanna jolts when another thunder startlingly booms over her head and echoes all around her.
"…"
Disoriented by the assault of the freezing rain and the sudden weakness that's overwhelming her body, the sickly Crowguard doesn't sense Riven approaching her before the soldier tentatively pokes at her side with an impatient foot.
"Get up." The Noxian deserter promptly commands the collapsed spy and when Luxanna proceeds to just stare at her the white-haired warrior angrily grabs the young spy by the coat and lifts her up until the stunned noble is standing on her weak, trembling legs. Mages and spell casters in general weren't known for their amazing stamina after all, even if their bodies weren't immensely weakened by the lack of rest and inhaling copious amounts of hazardous Zaunite toxins.
"Whatever remains from Ionia's army will be soon combing the land for rogue Noxian troops and suspicious foreigners that are fleeing from the front." The pale woman growls inches away from the face of a gulping Demacian girl, narrowed red eyes pinning the blonde aristocrat like sharp daggers eviscerate soft sinew. "So if you don't want to be tortured for information and then treated as a prisoner of war, you better start moving, spy." The Exile finishes and Lux can only nod in fright as the sick light mage attempts not to fall down again and further engage her moody savior.
"Y-yes, Ma'am." The feverish Crownguard croaks eliciting a displeased grunt from the albino swordswoman. Nevertheless, the Noxian deserter unceremoniously releases Lux's jacket and spins on her heel before marching onwards. The light mage manages to follow her for a few tense minutes at best before Lux collapses back on the ground in a heap of twitching, cramped muscles. Riven spares a heated glare at the shivering light mage and examines the blonde spy's feverish red visage for a long moment in silence. The stoic exile then heaves the barely lucid Demacian girl on her shoulder like a heavy sack and resumes her quiet marching.
Lux barely has the time to whisper a very faint, but certainly sincere thank you against the pale swordswoman's battered armor before the blonde noble falls asleep in the arms of the scowling Noxian Exile. Riven grumbles and frowns and occasionally curses the sickly Demacian mage that's being nothing but a burden to her as she navigates the wet Ionian woods. And yet… for some unknown, mysterious reason the solitary deserter makes sure to walk under the trees when she can, and to keep one of her shoulders drier than the other.
Riven keeps telling herself that she is only doing this so the Demacian worm won't get sicker by the rainfall and be more of a burden to her during their grand escape… That's also the reason that Riven is holding the weakling so gently in her arms and keeps glancing at her feverish sleeping visage every few seconds. Why the pale swordswoman from Noxus stops after a while and lets the blonde mage rest in her lap, even wrapping the shivering unconscious Demacian spy in her own drenched traveling cloak.
"Don't die." The red-eyed Noxian deserter whispers as she carefully examines the face of the shivering blonde girl. The only answer the abandoned warrior receives is Lux shifting closer to her, whimpering softly in her sleep against Riven's bandaged torso.