Leona x Diana. Fantasy setting.
Leona can clearly remember the first time she had laid eyes on the pale woman with the white veil. It was nighttime, late enough for the crickets to come out of hiding and the smaller animals of the forest to retire in their nests for the night.
The full moon was shining brightly overhead, shedding its argent light across the glistering river where Leona and the other elven children that had come of age were undergoing their rite of passage.
The auburn-haired beauty can still recall how her heartbeat was beating like a war drum as her fingers plunged blindly into the frigid water. All around her, boys and girls of approximately 20 summers were diving into the waist-deep water searching for the seeds of the Tunteet flower. Desperate to grasp the fragile seeds that could reveal to them their kindled spirit amongst the elven folk before the river's low temperature inevitably dispelled the seeds' unique magic.
The water had been freezing cold that night. Desperation was thick in the air. The light provided by the silver moon and the playing fireflies nearby was enough for the young elves to find their way home if they chose to abandon their task, but not helpful enough to aid them in their frantic search for the tiny brown objects.
As such, the presence of warriors nearby was necessary to guarantee no foul play amongst the newly adolescent elves. Not that the young adults would ever result in stealing the precious seeds from their peers. Of course not, that would only bring shame to the couple that had stolen the Tunteet flower seeds and shame their union. Still, the presence of the adult sentinels added an air of importance and discipline to the mystical ritual of the seed-picking.
Illuminated by the soft moonlight, the stoic sentinels kept a vigilant eye on the squelching bodies that were partially submerged in the water. Silent like the trees and twice as patient, the guardians' frames stood proudly amongst the ancient trees.
The appearance of the warriors was expected and thus hadn't fazed the tanned girl, not even for a moment. The inexplicable presence of the moon priestess on the other hand had effectively rendered Leona speechless.
The sound of the clear water spilling towards the Azure Lake had abruptly ceased. The splashing of eager palms and the sharp inhaling of aspiring divers had faded like in a dream.
For a short moment that felt like an eternity to the auburn-haired initiate, the Veiled Woman had been the only thing that existed in the world.
Leona's eyes had been instinctively drawn to the pure white garbs of the pale priestess shifting lethargically below the water. The flawless milky epidermis of the moon's chosen, so unlike Leona's own sun-kissed skin had utterly captivated and mesmerized the tanned elf. It was like Leona was suddenly discovering a new species of elf for the first time in history. A superior life form that was to the other forest elves the same as swans were to the thieving crows.
Seconds had ticked by in silence as Leona had motionlessly watched the godly being half-way submerge herself into the freezing water of the river. The pale woman's hands slowly outstretching towards the silver orb in the night sky above. Leona had been too embarrassed to admit it afterwards, but at that time the tanned adolescent elf had completely forgotten about the seed-picking ritual.
Leona's outmost attention was focused on the white piece of fabric that concealed the moon priestess' face from the top of her head to the defined curve of her lips. The tanned initiate had never despised a handful of spider silk so much in her life before that point. The soft-looking veil that hid the priestess' visage could as well be an ivory wall as far as Leona was concerned.
And then the moon priestess had finished her prayer and a horn had rang in the distance. The seed-picking ritual had ended and Leona had nothing to show for her efforts. Only the image of the pale woman burned into her mind's eye.
As if suddenly awaking from a pleasant dream the tanned elf blinks owlishly as her eyes dart to the dejected silhouettes of her peers that swim solemnly towards the shore. The lucky elves that have found their seeds leaving the riverbank with satisfied smiles on their faces.
And why wouldn't they?
They hadn't been distracted by the arrival of the pale woman and wasted their time gawking at her like fish on the shore. Dejected eyes slowly return back to her mournful reflection, that's glaring at herself angrily from the water. Tiny green sparks are slowly rising to the surface as the seeds of the Tunteet flower that haven't been picked up by an acolyte turn into mana to nurture the great forest. The next harvest of the magical seeds would be in twenty summers from that very night.
Leona's kindred spirit won't be able to recognize her until then. They might even leave their tribe in order to become adventurers and perish in some dungeon without the two of them having exchanged a single word with each other.
Splash, a droplet of water creates a small ripple across Leona's reflection.
Splash, the heartbroken woman lowers a trembling hand to touch an emerald spark with the tip of her finger. Leona stares sternly into the tearstained face on the water, too angry with herself for her stupidity, too hollow and empty to leave the sacred river.
Splash, the ripples find a new object to crush against.
Splash, Leona raises her tearstained eyes when the hem of an ivory dress made from soft spider silk abruptly disturbs her solemn reflection with a light movement.
The moon priestess is standing right next to her now, her unseen gaze scrutinizing her behind the thin white cloth. A pale milky hand slowly emerges from beneath the frigid water, holding a tiny Tunteet seed for Leona to take.
"C-can I really take this seed?" The sun-kissed elf mouths in a croaky and hesitant voice. Is this allowed? Leona wonders. Shouldn't every participant of the rite gather their own Tunteet flower seed?
The moon priestess doesn't reply, but she doesn't withdraw her hand with the offered brown seed either.
"T-thank you." The tanned elven woman's heart almost splits from her swelling gratitude.
With a hitched breath and a shaky hand Leona carefully places three of her fingers against the precious object that's resting on ivory flesh. The Tunteet seed shatters under her touch. And Leona is about to cry out in despair when a fragile blue flower blooms in the brown husk's place. Much like what always happens in the romantic tales of her parents and her tribe's ancient, sacred legends. The tanned maiden raises her eyes to meet the obscured visage of her moon priestess.
Tunteet means affection in the Finnish Language. I don't own Finnish or Finland. In fact I don't own any county, yet. It is a work in progress.
Peter Pantheon. Inspired by the timeless Peter Pan movie. Comedy.
Peter Pantheon crosses his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "I don't believe in junglers."
Lulu gasps "But Pantheon! Don't say those words. Every time you do a jungler goes AFK!"
"Well, that's okay with me, since junglers are not even real!" The lost child insists. Somewhere in a match taking place in the Summoners' Rift Lee Sin throws down his jungle item.
"I quit!" The Blind Monk shouts and then walks away.
Later…
Pantheon sniffles, knelt down beside a wrinkled picture of Silver Division. He gently runs his fingers across the dark gray emblem, tears running down his cheeks as the sky above him booms with the roar of thunder.
"I-I… I do believe in junglers." Pantheon sniffles mournfully.
*Crackle* The first droplets of water land on the old picture. Pantheon only sniffles louder.
"I do… I do…"
*Crackle* The knelt boy raises its eyes towards the sky and bellows in defiance. "I do believe in junglers, I do, I do!"
Miles away from the crying Lost Child Lulu joins her hands as if she is praying. "I believe in junglers," The purple yordle whispers. "They are real."
"I do believe in junglers!" Tryndamere pauses as he extends his hand towards an 0/10/0 Udyr. After a short moment of hesitation the bearded man clasps the barbarian's hand and stands up determinately. "I do! I do!"
*Crackle* The sudden shower turns into a mighty downpour.
"I do believe in junglers!" Lissandra mutters as she votes no on the surrender vote. A few second later Sejuani reconnects in the game.
"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" On his way to the cinema Lee Sin notices a poster about his new skin that is under development and drops his red and blue glasses to rush back to the jungle. He has a match to win.
"I DO BELIEVE IN JUNGLERS! I DO! I DO!" An outnumbered Irelia screams at the top of her lungs as she fights a losing battle to protect her Nexus from five fed marksmen.
"I DO BELIEVE IN JUNGLERS! I DO! I DO!" Somewhere, in a low Elo match the blue team is about to slay the baron. Mere seconds before they do so they stop for a quick celebratory dance. The enemy Fiddlesticks accidentally attacks the blasting plant which shoots him into the Baron pit. In his confusion and shock Fiddles silences the blue team's tank, the crow then bounces off to Baron slaying the legendary monster.
"I do believe in junglers, hur hur hur." Gangplank chuckles as he eyes his new buffs. Nidalee's smoking corpse laying a few feet away from the fearsome pirate.
Clenching against Pantheon's heart, the faded picture of the Silver Division starts turning from dark gray to light silver.
"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" Swain slams his fist on the oaken table garnering looks of incredulousness and surprise from the other members of the Noxian war council.
"You are out of your mind, Jericho!" LeBlanc exclaims alarmed.
"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" An Ionian Summoner wins an official League match, dominating his opponent with AP Leona in the top lane while carrying Heal and Smite. Hundreds of people attempt to imitate him, gutting Leona's win rate.
"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" The crest in the wrinkled picture adopts a faint golden hue as the rain finally stops. Pantheon slowly gets up on his feet and stares at the clear sky with unwavering conviction. Syndra, Pantheon's mid laner then goes AFK because Master Yi 'stole' her blue buff.
Brotherhood of the Watching Eye. Fantasy, Humor.
The room is utterly dark save for the handful of half-melted candles burning on the rotted chandelier hanging above the stone table. The shadows dance and writhe as the hooded acolytes shift in their seats and converse with each other. Suddenly a hulking figure enters the underground room.
"Her holiness, Lifegiver!" The huge man barks and the murmurs of the cultists abruptly cease. Braum steps aside so a less imposing member can claim her seat on the round table. The flickering light of the candles momentary catches the angular surface of an ivory horn as Soraka seats beside a grinning catfish with his hood let down.
"Brothers…" The horned woman mutters as she lightly bows her head in respect. A few of the hooded men reciprocate the gesture.
"Sisters…" The celestial healer continues as she repeats the same motion. More of the hooded acolytes bow their heads before the serene speaker.
"With everyone present I would like to announce the beginning of today's meeting!"
The Starchild pauses as she slowly raises her left arm, the dark sleeve of her black robe slides down revealing the bloodied axe of the late Olaf. In one swift motion, the chipped axe descends on a golden disk. The weapon produces a dull threatening sound like the cough of a murderer.
"Please present to us your religious symbols." Soraka commands after a while. One by one the hooded members of the cult of The Watching Eye stab their wards against the hard stone.
Not two Watching Eyes look the same under the sickly glow of the dying candles. Some of the wards are green whereas others are blue or purple. Some of them seem to be a part of a full set, whereas others look crude and uninspired.
All of the magical talismans presented in the underground chamber are without exception worn-out from use. All save for one, that is…
The cult leader's golden eyes instantly narrow when Soraka spots the pristine ward set amongst the weathered ones. Her suspicious gaze climbs from the incriminating item to the member's dark robes and the obscuring cowl that shields their face.
"What is this?" The Matron of the Watching Eye inquires whilst pointing at the clearly unused ward. "This Holy Symbol hasn't seen use in the battlefield! Your Eye has yet to pierce the darkness of the Eternal Battlegrounds."
"I got no blind spots." The hooded cultist replies even as suspicious murmurs bleed into the dimly lit chamber.
"You need the Rift-Eye's protection!" Soraka hisses under her breath. "Supporting means methodically orchestrating the next bloodbath, not flinging spells and waving your staff blindly! Think of all those screaming lumps of gold that will be escaping you without proper map vision!"
"Can't lose sight of 'em." The acolyte grunts darkly. There is a strange underlying sound echoing behind the suspicious man's words. A unique timbre like a dangerous sea current, the unnerving reverberation of a severed soul.
"Remove your hood." Soraka commands with an air of authority. The hooded man only looks at her intently, biding their time. Then, without a warning a jagged skinning knife is flung towards the celestial cult leader.
What feels like a hundred different shield form in front the stunned Starchild. The skinning knife bounces off the first two barriers and unceremoniously falls on the table. Faster than Soraka and her faithful can react, the hooded man sinks into the cracked cobblestone of the floor and disappears from sight.
Soraka just stares flabbergasted at the upturned stool where the hooded man used to seat.
"An assassin," Soraka whispers tensely. "We have an assassin in our midst."
So we can learn to pick ourselves up. Batman tribute.
"Master Valor! Master Valor, are you okay!"
The frantic voice of Quinn, the collapsed eagle's beloved butler pierces the grudging silence of the collapsed tunnel. Valor blinks owlishly as he attempts to remove his face from the dusty floor. Rubble, sharp rocks and darkness stretching all around him.
The little eagle's breath hitches when a terrible pain shoots up his left leg. Valor whimpers softly as he glimpses towards the collapsed entrance of the tunnel.
Where once stood a sturdy entrance with a rusty wire netting to discourage trespassers, only an earthen hole big enough for him to crawl out from remains. Quinn won't be able to save him this time. He is on his own.
"Master Valor…" Quinn tries softly. The female butler's voice reaching Valor's ears through the miniature headset that is somehow still attached to the blue bird's head.
"C-caw?" The little eagle exhales fearfully.
"I know that things look bad right now and that you are afraid of the dark, but I believe in you. I know that you can get out of this hole through your own power."
"Caw Caw?"
"Yes, I am telling you the truth, Valor."
Valor tries to get up again, but his foot isn't moving properly. Doubt floods the azure eagle's mind.
"Why do we fall, Master Valor?" The female butler's voice brings back memories of a heartfelt conversation between the two that had taken place about a week ago near Waying manor's lit fireplace.
"Caw… Caw…" Valor huffs slowly.
"I said: why do we fall, Master Valor?"
The azure eagle huffs once more.
"Caw. Caw, caw, caw, caw." He responds with conviction this time.
"Very well."
Valor can almost hear Quinn's smile from the speakers of his headset. Without any more delay, the little blue bird starts crawling towards the light of the exit.