#quinnxtalon

It was raining in Demacia. It never rained. That was one of the many reasons it was called the City of Sunlight. Down among the paved whitestone streets, narrowed eyes cast suspicious glances up at the grey skies overhead. Irritated mouths muttered ancient curses under their breath. After all, rain was for Noxus, not Demacia.

She was far more used to the rain than the rest. But the strangeness of it did not escape her. It brought only ill moods and even worse omens with it. With swift, confident strides, she wound her way back to the apartment she shared with the golden-haired girl. She hung her cloak up to dry, and hesitated for only a moment before she unlocked the door to her room as quietly as she could.

He was already standing there, little more than a shadow among the rest. Somehow, she knew he would be. She had guessed it from the very first cloud she saw in the sky. Maybe he had brought the storm with him. Whatever it was, she would not ask him why he was here now. It was better off if she did not know.

A flash of white lightning illuminated the room suddenly, and she saw him clearly. He was a thin silhouette against the faded blue of her wallpaper. In the light, his yellow eyes were like a hawk’s. Then it was gone, and his shape was upon her. Warm breath like sweet milk washed over her face, and she closed her eyes momentarily. There was a flutter in her stomach at how right it felt to have him so close. His hands were on her waist, and they were already stumbling backward towards her bed before either of them had said a word.

“I can’t stay long,” he muttered finally, moving away from her damp hair and back to her mouth. Her shirt slid off bare shoulders, and she shivered at the cold air. She pulled him closer, digging her fingers into his long hair. She could feel him through the cloth, hungry and tense.

She felt the movement of his lips against hers even as his fingers trailed up the back of her thighs like curious spiders. A vicious pull. Then another. And then she gasped at how much his need mirrored hers. “You don’t have to.”

…

It was not much later before he slipped out of her bed as silently as he would draw one of his knives. There was little more than a whisper of sheets as he sat on the edge of the bed, as still and as pale as a marble statue. She knew he would be gone soon. Gone to do whatever it is he had come to do in Demacia in the first place.

But this time, she had been waiting for him to leave. She shifted, and he stiffened as he felt the motion in the sheets. Her fingers landed on one of the many scars that decorated his back. He flinched, before he relaxed into the contact.

“I have to go.” His voice was cold. Smooth. Like the edge of a knife.

Quinn’s lungs were burning.

It was as though a thousand hot needles were stabbing into her lungs, her feet pounding painfully against the hard stone streets as she wove her way desperately through the back-alleys of Noxus. The narrow corridors were suffocating, and they rose like the walls of a tomb around her. Her breath came in quick pants, and she exhaled sharply as she turned a corner too fast, losing her balance and colliding painfully with a street vendor.

Ignoring his shouts of anger, she dragged herself to her feet and kept running; the Noxian assassin who chased her was as relentless as a wild boar, and he knew the streets of Noxus far better than she did. The only reason she was still alive was because – for now – she was faster. But her stamina was waning, and – though she did not dare look back over her shoulder – she knew he was right behind her. Her golden eyes glanced up in panic and desperation, searching desperately for any sign of light among the shadows of buildings.

Noxus was a maddeningly confusing maze of claustrophobic streets and underground tunnels, and though Quinn hated enclosed spaces, they had served her well in her escape. If she could only get out of the city, she might stand a real chance at getting away; Valor was somewhere nearby, and if she could just get out into the open, she would have the advantage of range.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a shadow fell suddenly over her, and rough hands threw her violently against a nearby wall. Her vision went black for a heartbeat, and she collapsed, winded. A hooded shape towered over her, and she wheezed as ruthless fingers wrapped tightly around her throat, hauling her roughly to her feet.

Her vision swam dangerously, and she whimpered as the unmistakable tip of a knife dug painfully into the soft spot just below her ribs. Her hands swatted pathetically at his firm chest as he leaned in close. Though she could not make out his features amongst the shadows of his hood, his hot breath was surprisingly sweet against her face.

“You’re fast, I’ll give you that,” he hissed, and he seemed slightly impressed. Madly, she thought it was unfair that he did not sound nearly as winded as she was. “But Noxus is a cage, Demacian. And little birds like you don’t last very long in cages.”

His fingers tightened like steel cables around her throat, and Quinn’s vision grew dark. She closed her eyes, but not before she sensed a sudden movement in the air above her, and she thought she had caught the flash of blue feathers.

Quinn lay lamentably wide awake, her head resting comfortably in the crook of Talon’s arm as she looked up at the ceiling of his room. Even in the dark of the night, her sharp eyes could make out the faint lines that ran across the dark wood of the ceiling, and she followed them idly with her golden gaze. Though it was already long into the witching hour, she found herself unable to fall asleep. She was undeniably exhausted – she knew that well enough from the prickling in her eyes – but for whatever reason, she could not bring herself to fall asleep. Perhaps it was because of the proximity of a trained assassin at her side; or maybe it was the fact that she was a well-known Demacian Ranger lying in the bed of an equally as notorious Noxian assassin; maybe it was because she was in the very heart of the enemy, and in the home of one of the most prominent Noxian political families.

Maybe it was all of it; or maybe it was none of that at all.

…