Shyvana

As she turned she found his usually armor clad frame bare, as was her own, though he seemed far happier about the situation than she herself.

The half dragon Demacian immediately demonstrated their city state’s display of reverence to royalty, one knee to the ground and a fist across their heart. Demacia now and forever.

The Prince stood back with his mouth agape, surprised to see a familiar face. His run in with Garen earlier had stated that other Demacians were inhabitants here, and it seemed to be that the ratio to Noxians was much higher. Closing his mouth, he reached out and set his a bare hand on Shyvana’s head, ruffling her hair slightly.

“Rise, Shyvana.” His voice was commanding and his face retained its hard and stoic nature, waiting for her to stand. When she would stand, he would greet her with a warm smile, embracing the woman in a friendly embrace. 

She rose, slowly raising her gaze to look at him - surprised to see a warm smile. The next thing she knew she as in his arms if only for a moment. 

She could feel a blush spread quickly across her cheeks though she hoped it was not highly noticeable against her strange complexion. 

“Garen is here too?” She tried hard to keep the disappointment from her tone. Garen had never been the most welcoming to the half-dragon and she could tell he didn’t trust her. She would have far preferred Jarvan’s other favored soldier, Xin Zhao. 

She began to turn away from the other, considering her usefulness spent, when he spoke one more.

She laughed, it was so strange, people being interested in her every quirk. It came with being one of a kind, she guessed. 

A new roommate already , and he hasn’t even been here more than a day.

Wonderful.

Though through political tactics, he knew that he should make himself known. Possible alliances for this new… town they were in would certainly help in the long run. 

He’d vacated his dorm that evening when classes were over. The first day wasn’t too terrible, most of the students knew who he was. Lesson plans he’d seemingly written out were clear and was able to carry on with ease.

He knocked twice, waiting for a response.

Shyvana rubbed the thin cloth of her skirt between two fingers, a look of disgust on her face. What good would this do her in battle?

She had spent much of her youth in nothing but her own skin, changing freely between forms, but now that she spent most of her time with humans she appreciated the necessity of clothing, but it should at least be useful. Her armour added to her already thick skin making her a hard foe to injure in battle but these small swathes of fabric were little more than decoration. Frivolous and pointless.

Before she could wallow in her own annoyance further there was a knock at the door, she felt a spike in her anger. What on Earth did she have to do now?

Grabbing the knob and pulling the door open she readied her venomous words.

But they never came.

She stood for a moment, embarrassed at her display of rage in front of the Prince, the man she admired most after her late father.