Pulsefire Ezreal/runeterra Ekko
Gauntlet is malfunctioning and sending Ezreal careening through universes. It's nice to see Ekko again, even if he's not HIS Ekko
Ezreal has, more than once, managed to fling himself though multiple time lines. There's names for them, he knows. Psyops, arcade, star guardian, and on and on, universes beyond measurable amount. Sometimes he exists in them. Sometimes he doesn't.
Usually, though, he finds Ekko.
Ekko takes him to his rickety table and gets him a glass of filtered water in the slums of Zaun. He watches Ezreal with a raised eyebrow and fingers tapping the seconds against his arm.
"So," he says, so casually it's come right back round to being pointed. "You're not Ezreal."
"What? No, yeah, I AM Ezreal, thank you very much! The one and only prodigal explorer Ezreal!"
Ekko is nodding his head, doubt painted over his face.
"Uh huh. So who was it that left this place two days ago with a completely different gauntlet?"
Ezreal looks down at gauntlet. She's sleek and shiny, bright chrome and glowing blue. These days her voice is staticky and warped, but he still loves it every time she speaks to him. It's good to know there's someone watching out.
"Uh." says Ezreal. He looks at Ekko with wide, panicked eyes. "I...changed my gauntlet?" he ventures.
Ekko shakes his head fondly.
Ezreal doesn't have to convince Ekko of time travel and universe hopping. Ekko knows all about that, more than Ezreal does, probably. Even in this dump of a universe where magic has choked tech down to the bone and grown wild over everything it touches. Even Ekko. He powers his drive with remnants of magic and says its steadier than any other power source could be.
Ezreal doesn't understand it, but he doesn't need to understand it.
Gauntlet's static drenched voice echoes through his mind.
"Countdown to launch has begun, get ready Ezreal. Fifty. Forty nine."
Ezreal takes another look around the little home. It's all worn down wood and bright splashes of paint and fabric, mechanical parts strewn over the desk and tiny windowsill. There's a little hextech powered clock with a little robotic bird bobbing it's head to and fro.
"Ah, damn, looks like I'm going. It was good to see you, Ekko." Ezreal curls his bare fingers into his sleeve to stop himself from reaching out. It's only been an hour or so since he arrived, and all this hopping is really starting to get boring.
And what's even more boring is the look in Ekko's eyes. Curiosity, intrigue, and nothing more. He stands across the room from Ezreal, sits down next to him, and he never jolts if they touch. He never looks at Ezreal's mouth.
"Twenty five,"
Maybe he's impulsive. He's definitely impulsive. But then, Ekko has always been his little mystery, like if a city was a person. Ezreal specialises in the dead places, sure, but that's only because the living scream at you when you take their stuff.
"Fifteen."
Ezreal arcane shifts over to Ekko's side, uses his shoulder to steady himself.
"Really good." he says. Maybe it's wistful. Whatever. He's never going to see this Ekko again.
He kisses him on the cheek and the last thing he sees of this world is Ekko's bright eyes, his shocked expression.
Everything dissolves into the unreal brightness of the time slip, and here he goes again, the prodigal explorer, off on another adventure.
Maybe this time, he'll find a place to sleep for an hour or so.
