Tags: Irelia, Riven, Soraka

Much like how Irelia had expected the search for the missing Noxian survivor had yielded little to no results for the better part of a whole week. A tiring, tense week where the noble undead lich had been constantly overcome by stagnant feelings of growing unease and powerless anticipation. There was an enemy soldier hiding somewhere in the snow-covered alleyways of the magnificent Ionian capital after all. A little demon with bloodstained hands and a black soul that wore the face of an innocent child.

As it was natural for such a serious and dedicated individual as Captain Lito, Irelia had searched high and low for this despicable little rodent that had found the gall to hide within the sturdy walls of their majestic city. The proud Captain of the Ionian Guard had made observing the starving army of dull-eyed orphans that frequently gathered outside of the temples seeking handouts her daily routine. Irelia herself had volunteered to participate in the various charities that had been organized to aid the victims of the unwarranted invasion of Ionia by the Noxians. A reluctant, yet begrudging gesture that had elicited numerous beaming smiles from the softhearted Starchild.

Poor Soraka had completely misunderstood the undead lich's real intentions, happily welcoming Irelia into her field of war relief and offering the gruff Ionian Captain advice about how to approach eccentric beggars and treat scared people alike.

And yet, no matter how many bowls of warm soup Irelia had served to toothless scar-skinned elderly men and mourning widows, and how much her emerald gaze would wander over the hunched, defeated heads of the dining parentless kids, the proud Ionian warrior had failed to find a clue as to the little Noxian imp's identity so far. Most children and beggars in general were still nervous wrecks after the recent end of the terrible war. Flinching and jolting frightfully whenever their watery eyes caught hers examining them, practically shaking within their rags and rushing to finish their depressingly small meals, before the suspicious scowling woman by the table would have the chance to take them from them for unknown reasons.

Frustrated by her failure to locate the missing Noxian butcher so far, Irelia sighs in accumulating irritation as the first and last person that she had served that day suddenly returns back a third time to demand another refill of their empty bowl. The simple wooden container, with only one or two grains of boiled rice left in its nearly polished confines being impatiently placed in front of the considerably gruff red-clad Captain Lito.

"You want more?" The Ionian Captain mutters between grit teeth even if Irelia already knows the answer to her question. The scowling white-haired child doesn't reply verbally, but nods its head in response and then taps its left bandaged hand against the table rudely, as if demanding for Irelia to hurry up and serve her.

"Children used to have manners when I was your age," The undead Ionian lich says as she narrows her eyes at the rag-covered kid. "We were taught to respect our elders from a very young age, and to ask politely if we wanted to receive something from somebody, especially a stranger that didn't owe us a single thing."

As if the white-haired toddler can't hear a single word that's coming out from Irelia's mouth, the young orphan impatiently slams its bandaged hand against the table once more, the rude little beggar's small maroon-colored eyes pointing at the empty bowl meaningfully, clearly demandingly.

Irelia only huffs in response. "I'm not giving you more food until you ask for it politely. I have already given you more than enough as it is, now shoo!"

The white-haired toddler's fierce pout darkens considerably at those words, its already sharp and hostile eyes turning downright murderous as the hungry young orphan looks at Irelia as if sizing her up for a fight. The red-clad Ionian champion is quick to return the favor adopting a more threatening stance.

Captain Lito challengingly crosses her arms in front of her armored chest, attempting to intimidate the rude little rascal as she looks down at the young albino orphan whose scarlet gaze is now rapidly alternating between the unimpressed frown of the powerful Ionian lich and the open cooking pots with the remaining food that are precautiously set on the counter right behind the gruff and oh-so annoying server.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you." Confidently challenges the proud warrior lich. "Less scrawny kids have tried stealing those cooking pots from the stall and none of them have succeeded under my supervision."

The rude snow-haired rascal bites at its bottom lip as the orphan's twin ruby orbs keep staring daggers at Irelia's emerald lakes. Then, without a warning, and with a last hateful glare directed at the obnoxious red-clad Captain, the emaciated child turns around and begins limping away from the serving area, its tiny scarred fists clenched tightly by its sides.

Being so focused on her righteous victory over the liliputian ill-mannered glutton, and while still savoring the euphoric feeling of accomplishment for teaching the rude little girl a good lesson, Irelia doesn't notice Soraka's killing intent until the kind Starchild bonks the other woman on the back of the head with her bare knuckles.

"Ow! What in the Void!" Irelia grunts as she rubs at her head.

"There is more than enough food in the pots if you'd like another serving of rice, my dear." Soraka smiles at the retreating form of the hungry child and the white-haired orphan hurriedly returns back to the cramped serving area. True to her word, the considerate Starchild instantly refills the poor toddler's empty bowl and leans down to place it in-between the tiny awaiting hands of the emaciated pale war-beggar.

The deathly pale child then sets off to find an empty table to sit down at and eat its invaluable food, but not before sending Irelia one last hateful glare and sticking its tongue out at her.

Regrettably enough, the good Captain is currently too busy getting lectured by Soraka for refusing to serve the rude rascal a third time to return Riven's glare. Or to actually notice the brief glint of the chipped edge of a broken black sword hidden within the little beggar's stained dirty rags, before the Noxian guinea pig hastily fixes its torn cloak concealing it.

Notes: Omg, Drawing! What's this?! This ain't a fuckin' oneshot! The title of the collection is clearly: Random Oneshots, I am going to ruin your nonexistent writing career and report you to the Oneshot Community! Let's see how you like it when you can't get your shots and you get sick during the winter! I'mma negative criticism you so hard that you're gonna start attracting protons and positively charged science stuff! Yer gonna rue the day that you decided to cross ME, AnonymousAlphaBigDuck69!

*Presses the mute button and goes back to sleep.