#rosywrites

Kirk was lying on his side at the head of your bed as he wrote in his notebook, as you were sitting at the foot of your bed, watching him. He never let you see his writing until it was finished, but you kept trying to take quick peeks. He noticed your head slightly inching towards his notebook before moving it to face his chest.

"You know the rules, darling. No reading-"

"Until it's done. I know, I know." You cut him off and he laughed.

"Why don't you turn on some music? It's too quiet in here." Kirk asked. You nodded before walking over to your collection of records. You grabbed your copy of "Fear of Music" by Talking Heads and started to play it.

"I don't think I played this one for you yet." You stated as you sat back up on the bed.

"It's no Black Sabbath, but it isn't horrible." Kirk joked at you as he started to write again. You laid down, your head on his legs and your own legs hanging off the edge of your bed.

"Can I at least know what you're writing about? Like what's the inspiration?" You turned your head to look at him and he smiled at you.

"How about I tell you the title? Hmm?" You quickly nodded your head in response.

"Just know, this is not gonna be a Metallica song. This is just gonna be for us." Kirk looked down at you with a smile.

"I don't mind, I just want to know." You whined and he chuckled at you.

"Warm Heart, Cold Skin." He looked down at his notebook again. "Inspired by the most beautiful girl I know. She's always cold to touch but she's the warmest person I know." He slowly turned his face back to yours.

Kirk had asked you out about two months prior and the most common thing he said about you was how old your hands and feet were.

Your face heated up and a smile appeared on your lips. "And who would that be?" You asked, trying to get more information out of him.

He sat up slightly and put a hand over yours. "You're cold again." Was all he said before his eyes went slightly wide and he whispered to himself. "Oh shit."

You look down at your hand and notice the blue fingerprints on the top of your hand before turning to look up at him and bursting out laughing. "Your pen exploded!"

He immediately stood up and went to wash his hands. Thankfully, the only thing that got ink on it was just Kirk. The notebook and bedspreads were in the clear.

"I am so sorry, I didn't notice-" Kirk started to say as he walked in but you quickly cut him off

"It's okay, nothing got stained." You stood up and walked towards him. "My sheets and your notebook are fine, your hands are another story." You giggled as you grabbed his hands. "Blue Boy."

He wrapped his arms around your waist. "Blue Boy and his Little Snowflake." He held you close to his chest and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

You both just stood there for a few moments, wrapped in each other.

Frank's got your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs gently across your cheeks. You can hardly look at him for all the gentleness he's offering you; your brain is just too much of a mess to be able to accept it. He lets out a little sigh, squeezing to get your attention.

"Look at me, baby. C'mon." His gruff voice is hushed and warm, and you frown more before managing to glance his way. He smiles at you as you do, eyes full of love. He chuckles a little. "That's my <y/n>. Now. You don't need to tell me what's wrong, I'm not gonna make you spill the beans as much as I wanna fuckin' hear 'em. But… I'm here, baby. I'm right here for ya. Let ol' Frank here take care of you, even just a bit. You're not in this alone, so stop fuckin' actin' like you are. Yeah?" Wordless, you nod, and then he pulls you in to leave a kiss against your forehead. His beard scratches gently at your face, and you shut your eyes and just… feel. "Now stop cryin' or your eyes are gonna get even puffier." You bark out a little laugh, shaking your head; you can feel his smile against your skin as his hands slide from your cheeks down your neck and over your shoulders, securing you in a hug. You give in to being held, your face settling against the crook of his neck and your arms circling his torso as one of his hands begins rubbing your back slowly. "That's it. Like I said, I've gotcha, sweetheart. I'm not goin' anywhere. And neither are you." That last statement makes the tears come again, pricking at first but then coming full force. You bury your face further against his warm skin, breath shuddering as he holds you tighter. "Let it out, hun. C'mon." Your hands curl into the fabric of his shirt as you let out quiet sobs.

“Oh gob it,” the elder harrumphs. “What else did y’expect, picking up a stray like that in the sea?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “I never once took ye fer the type, but whatever y’picked up did quite the damage to yer gun.” After a moment of silence, he asks, “What did y’even pick up, anywho?”

Jhin’s eyes squint, but the elder cannot tell if it’s out of joy or anger. “A feisty and frightening little thing, I assure you.”

“Is that so…” the elder mutters as he takes Jhin deeper into the city, where The Gray of Zaun awaits below. “By the way, y’didn’t run into any trouble coming here, did ye?”

On instinct, his hand hovers over his abdomen but brushes it off like he had touched something filthy. “Not that I’m aware of,” he answers. “Why do you ask?”

The elder cackles quietly. “The sea has quite the terrifying creatures around here, boy. Y’would do well to mind your path when you depart from Piltover.” Before Jhin can ask any further, the elder ushers Jhin into a hexdraulic conveyor. He slaps Jhin’s back as he makes his way inside. “Come now, y’don’t want to be late!”

“Please, elder. I have a sensitive back.” A shame Jhin can’t kill this old man. He’s the only connection between the cabal and the technology of Piltover and Zaun, the middleman, repairman, and analyst of broken weapons. Killing him would send the cabal after Jhin’s head. 

“Someone as young as ye? Y’might as well be one of them Chem-punks ‘round here.” The descender dings, and the door opens up to an alleyway much darker than those of Piltover’s. The streetlamps dimly light the path of cobblestones and bridges ahead. The conveyor creaks as the elder sits on the edge of the doorframe. “I’ll be waiting right here. M’sure you won’t take long.”

Jhin hums a non-committal response as he moves on. The stench of Zaun is sickly as always. The chem-fumes wafting out of the dingy chimneys makes him scoff. How vile. The sooner he gets his gun, the sooner he can get out of this place. 

“Where the spirit of this land goes, her followers are near,” a voice says from the dark. 

“The followers the stem, the spirit the blossom,” Jhin answers back. He turns to the source of the voice. “Do you have what I requested?” he asks. 

“Certainly.” A pair of mechanical hands holding a parcel manifests from the shadows. “To deliver a parcel to the infamous Golden Demon himself, it is quite an honor.” 

There is a moment of silence as Jhin unwraps the parcel and holds his newly-repaired Whisper in his hand. The feeling of metal against the palm of his hand sends shivers down his spine. He gives the grip a little squeeze and sighs longingly. Oh, how he missed Whisper…

“Now, shall we talk business?” the figure speaks up. With a metallic clang, a man covered in mechanical prosthetics steps out of the shadows. “I have a job I would like you to accomplish.”

Jhin simply stares at the man in silence. There’s another beat, and the man begins to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his eye. “I understand you’re a client, and I am not one to question them.” He pauses. “Usually. What could a Chem-Baron such as yourself need an actor such as me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I need power.” He scoffs scornfully. “The only things keep Zaun from falling into chaos are the pillars holding it up: we, the Chem-Barons. Unfortunately, one of these pillars has exhausted their use and refuses to step down. What other choice do I have?”

“Interesting,” Jhin can only say. “Normally, I would take up such a request. It would have been a fantastic piece of work, something as organic as a blossom blooming from within its mechanical cage.”

The baron’s face sours at his words and becomes exasperated. “So, will you do it or not?”

“Unfortunately,” he starts as he points his gun towards the baron, earning a small yelp at the cold touch of his gun’s muzzle to his chest, “I cannot comply.”

“W-wait, what are you doing? I can pay you to do this! A-any amount of money you want!” the baron tries to bargain. He dares not move, or else that bullet will go straight through the core of his body and kill him.

Jhin clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You see, the cabal has its own discreet way of disposing of their messengers.” His eyes squint in pure bliss when he sees the look of terror and desperation in whatever untouched flesh the baron has. Such skin tarnished by dull metallic parts… What a shame, really. “You are my client’s aim, baron. And I will make sure that your death is not meaningless but beautifully ornate.”

 “As if I would let you, demon,” the baron exclaims as his mechanical body begins to hiss with steam and overlap each other with increasing size and parts, the baron disappearing into the suit. Jhin hops backwards and shoots at the chest, but the metal deflects the bullet off-course without a dent. “You really think I would come out here to meet The Golden Demon without preparations of my own?”

“I can’t say I didn’t expect it. After all, even the side character must put some effort into their performance before the final curtain call.” Jhin hops away when the baron slams a giant mechanical fist onto the cobblestone. He slips away into the shadows before the baron can catch him. 

“Bastard, you think you can hide from me?”

“I prefer the term ‘observing’,” he replies. He studies the structure of the baron’s body, making the calculations and notes necessary to bring the stage to the grand finale. 

“You can find the weak point all you want, but it’s useless! This metal is of the highest grade and can deflect any bullet you shoot at me!”

“Weak point? Oh, no, no.” Jhin’s eyes lock onto the tank pumping chemicals into tubes that weave around the mechanical suit. “What I look for is completely different, baron.” He assembles his gun into a rifle and takes a deep breath. Four shots. He shall free this baron from his rusting cage with his art. He shoots.

A tube shatters at the leg. A sickening green chemical sprays everywhere like a spring shower. 

Another shot, and another tube shatters at the fist. As he thought, the tubes acted like hydraulics as well as a power source. 

The baron’s body creaks into a slow stop, but the baron remains unfazed. “You can stop me, but you’ll have to drag me out of this suit in order to kill me!”

“You seem to lack understanding in your own creation then, baron.” Jhin carefully aims, not at the body but at the gauge tank at the neck of the suit. When the bullet strikes the ring connecting the tank to the neck, a high-pitched hissing noise escapes from the broken tube. Within a few seconds, a pained cry comes from inside. “No matter what and how many walls you construct, there will always be a breaking point.”

The baron screams grow louder as the green chemical empties out from the tank. There’s a loud clang when the baron bursts out of the suit, his flesh and prosthetics practically melting from the acid. He tumbles down the suit and attempts to escape. He hears a dull sound of thunder, and he feels vines of flowers sap away his strength as they constrict around him and the alleyway. The baron’s outstretched arm falls like a tree branch pruned to ensure its healthy and beautiful growth.

Jhin sighs in joy at his work. Or, so he thought it would be the result. 

Odd. He doesn’t feel the bliss he’s always felt with every finale. His brows furrow in confusion, unnerved by this feeling. He only feels… dissatisfaction… and a numb pain coming from the wound in his abdomen, like it’s pulsing against his skin to remind him of its existence. Of the siren’s existence. 

“Even at these brinks of euphoria, that blasted siren continues to pull me back like a tide,” he mutters. He sighs helplessly. He can only wonder why the siren holds this kind of power over him.

  “What took y’so long?” the elder asks.

“Just appreciating my work, elder,” Jhin lies. “It was one of my best work yet.”

The elder grunts in amusement. “Sure, whatever get y’going. How’s the gun? Did it do the job?”

“Absolute perfection, if I say so myself.” He tries to ignore the elder’s dissatisfied face at Jhin’s lack of enthusiasm. “Forgive me, I am still caught up in that moment of bliss.”

“Y’always were an oddball, eh? Come. Y’got the job done, so we need to head up top.” The elder pushes Jhin back into the conveyor and ascends beyond The Gray back to Piltover. They watch the murky atmosphere of Zaun turn golden like the setting sun as they approach the top. “Did y’know? This ol’ thing belonged to that Chem-Baron back there.”

For once, Jhin’s brows raise up in surprise as he slightly turns his head to the elder. “I don’t suppose you were my client this time around, elder?” 

The elder taps his cane on the floor of the conveyor at the beat of his cackle. “The baron’s been going ‘round without a goddamn care about the other factions and his own tech!” His cackle slows into a hum. “Did he mention anything ‘bout another Chem-Baron, by any chance?”

“He did.”

“Mm, ain’t it interesting how putting a single idea about themselves into their heads can become so distorted that they become out of touch with their own reality?” the elder says. “The human mind is a fascinating thing.” He shoots Jhin a mysterious look. “Wouldn’t y’agree?”

He doesn’t answer. He feels like he can’t. Jhin feigns an amused chuckle as he turns back to the overview of Piltover. “You are quite the frightening one, elder. I don’t suppose all Piltovans are as mad as you.”

“Not mad,” the elder corrects with a crazed look in his eye. “Just passionate.”

--

Sona lies in the bottom of her tank, stretched out atop one of the several rocks they placed on the sand. She listlessly gazes up at the tarp covering the top of the glass. Faint streaks of sunlight filter through from above. Her lips purse into a straight line.

How can these creatures produce such… sounds?

It’s faint, but it’s constantly there like in the back of her head. She presses her palms to her ears and tries to shut out the cries and voices of the merfolk of this region. Even their songs sound so cacophonous. 

A new siren. A girl.

She’s not from here. She’s come to our home.

This is her home.

She belongs here.

She belongs here. She belongs here. She belongs here.

What a dangerous place this is, and yet the landfolk of this region are oblivious to the creatures that they’ve created. And worse, these creatures have caught wind of her presence. They know she’s here. They will come to take her away. To make her one of them.

She hears two of Jhin’s crew, tasked to guard her tank from any intruders, talking to themselves outside of the tank. In an attempt to relieve her mind of the voices, she swims over to the guards and taps the glass gently. They’re cautious, but for good reason. 

One of them glances at the other with a questioning look. The other returns the look with a helpless one as she approaches the tank. “Can we help you?” They watch her point up and slide her hand up to the lower half of her face, as if she’s putting on a mask. “The captain? He’s not back yet, or at least, we haven’t heard anything from the deck yet.”

Sona makes an impatient face and nods. She sits on the sand and leans back against the nearest rock with her arms crossed. 

“Excuse me?” the other guard speaks up. “If you don’t mind, would you like to join our conversation?” Seeing Sona tilt her head in uncertainty and glance up at the deck cautiously, the guard shakes his head. “The captain’s not back yet. I don’t think it’d hurt to try.”

“We’re the more curious of the bunch here,” the first guard joins in. “We’ve never really seen a siren before, or any sea creatures like the merfolk, so we’re really interested in what you see down below.” She shoots an accusatory glance at the other guard. “Unfortunately, some people don’t really believe that there are certain creatures in the sea.”

“Listen, I gotta see it to believe it. There aren’t such things as krakens the size of a battleship. I’ll believe that there are krakens the size of smaller ships like ours, sure. Bilgewater ain’t full of crazy folks, so I have no reason not to believe them.”

“What!” she exclaims. “You’ll believe them but not me, when I’ve heard those stories from the people who’ve seen it themselves?!”

“They’re just stories!” 

“So you’re saying the Bilgewater folks are fibbing?”

“I didn’t say tha —” A knocking on the glass catches their attention, seeing Sona smile sympathetically. They watch her point to the female guard before nodding. The male guard pales with wide eyes. “Y-you mean they’re real?”

Sona nods. She brushes her hand over the sand and makes an even bigger gesture with her hands, saying there are even bigger and more terrifying creatures in the abyss of the sea. She can’t help but laugh when the other guard pales as well. 

But their conversation is cut short when there’s a commotion from above. The door leading to the cargo hold opens, another crewmember poking his head out the door. “Captain’s here! To your posts!” he whispers urgently.

The two guards scramble away to their posts and wait for Jhin’s arrival. Sona, on the other hand, rolls her eyes and swims to the farthest side of the tank and sits atop the bigger rocks. She waits for that iron door to open. But it never opens. 

Strange. She had expected him to come by with that foolish squint in his eyes as he gazes at his prisoner in amusement. Her shoulders, which she notices had become stiff and tense, relax. No matter. The less he shows his face in front of her, the better.

Suddenly, the iron door to the cargo hold opens, and Sona tenses up again. But instead of Jhin, it’s the same crewmember who had told the guards to be at their posts. “We’ll be heading back out to sea. Captain won’t be coming down here until we’re out of Piltovan borders.

One of the guards furrows her brows in confusion. “Is there a reason why?”

The crewmember grimaces. “We’re being tracked. Someone found out about the siren.”

Immediately, a heavy atmosphere crashes upon those in the cargo hold. Dread pools in Sona’s stomach. She feels like something much worse will occur out at sea. 

The voices of the merfolk that were only whispers in the back of her head just a few minutes suddenly grow in numbers and intensity. She winces at the overwhelming amount of voices and hunches over with her palms against her ears.

They’re going. They’re taking our sister!

How dare they take our new sister!

This is her home!

Come back!

She belongs here!

The voices die into silence as sudden as the next words are uttered altogether in one distorted voice: 

We’re coming for you, sister.

Sona gasps in horror when the voices then spill over like a tsunami in her mind. It’s too loud. It’s too intense. She shoots up to the top of the tank, banging the glass lid and catching the attention of the crewmembers guarding the cargo hold. 

This is about to become a battle. The crewmembers are preparing themselves to fight whoever is tracking them. But she’s not up there to warn them of the creatures in the sea that are coming for the ship. For her.

  Jhin had been careful. He had never mentioned the siren directly in his conversation with the elder. But he supposed Zaunites have eyes and ears everywhere, even in Piltover. Zaunites were known for their experimental demeanors. Some are even passionate enough to steal test subjects for their work.

Mercenaries… are likely. The experimenter themselves wouldn’t go out of their way to face an entire ship of pirates. 

He brings out a golden stopwatch from his pockets and opens it up to his eye level. In the reflection of the glass, he spots a ship in the distance that’s slowly sailing in the same direction as them. The ship flies a Piltovan flag, but he can see Zaun’s technology built into the ship. He hums in thought. He had guided the ship towards Freljord, a region that has no need for Piltovan or Zaunite technology.

Even if Piltover wanted to expand their tech to the north, their ship isn’t built to withstand the harsh conditions of Freljord.

A crewmember steps up to the helm and whispers in Jhin’s ear, “Captain, the siren is acting up. We’re not sure what happened. She suddenly swam up to one of the guards trying to say something to her.”

Jhin furrows his brows as he glances at the gate of the cargo hold. What is the siren up to this time? “Do you know what she’s trying to say?” he asks.

“She’s trying to warn us about something. Something in the water? She keeps pointing to herself and then out to the water.” The crewmember looks concerned. “What should we do, sir?”

Something in the water? Pointing to herself… but out there within the sea… 

“Hey, do you hear that?” a crewmember standing by the rails murmurs to another. “It sounds like… singing?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“No, no, I hear it! It sounds like a lullaby my mother used to sing for my brother back home.” The crewmember’s eyes suddenly light up, and he leans over the rails. The crewmember’s eyes glaze over, as if he’s in a trance. “That… sounded like mother.”

“What?”

“That… sounded… like…” the crewmember’s words trail off as he leans closer and closer to hear better. “Mother…!”

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?!” the other shouts as he pulls him back onto deck.

“It’s her! It’s mother! She’s in there, don’t stop me!” the former shouts back in rage, swatting away the latter’s grip. When the other doesn’t lose his grip, he pulls out a dagger from his belt and slices the other’s arm.

“Agh!” The latter releases the former’s shirt in pain, but two other crewmembers pull them both back onto deck. One of them kicks away the dagger and pins down their frantically pleading mate. 

Jhin directs his attention to the commotion happening on deck. Then he hears it. He hears singing coming from the waters. It sounds like an opera. The voices sound muffled, but he thinks he hears them sing of art, of Whisper, of his feats and trophies at sea. That there’s more he can do out there. With them.  

His legs suddenly feel heavy, and he feels his foot swing out towards the side of the ship. His mind feels blank like an empty canvas, and the music of the sea is the paint giving it life. 

“Captain!” another crewmember runs out from inside the ship and up to the helm in a panic. “It’s an ambush! We’ve been surrounded!”

He snaps back to reality with a hiss, having sunken his nails into the injury in his abdomen. “By who? The Zaunites haven’t even reached us yet.”

“They’re no Zaunites, sir! They’re merfolk!”

Jhin’s eyes grow wide. Sirens. He hadn’t considered this. Could the siren he captured have called these sirens here? No, she is mute. She hasn’t displayed a single ability to be able to communicate to anyone so far. He shakes his head. The merfolk have been around for centuries. Each region has their own kind of merfolk.

Piltover, the City of Progress. Zaun, the City of Iron and Glass. With the advancement of technology, there would be an equal amount of waste filtering into the waters. His eyes perk up in realization. The toxins. For the merfolk who lived in these waters for so long, they wouldn’t notice how far the toxins can be carried by the water. Therefore, they would eventually die to the toxins.

Or adapt to them. 

“Prepare yourselves!” Jhin announces. “These creatures can affect any of you to kill you! If you see someone who’s affected, hold them back!” He normally wouldn’t bat an eye if two men or three die, but with enemies coming from both within and out of the waters, he cannot afford to lose that many men at once. “Lookout, keep an eye on that Piltovan ship!” He loads Whisper with four bullets and cocks the hammer. “This show isn’t over yet.”

---

The sounds of gunshots and shouting from the deck alerts Sona of the sirens’ arrival, her banging against the glass becoming stronger and louder. The lid refuses to budge. She swings her arms down in frustration and swims over to one of the guards who had spoken to her.

“Miss siren, isn’t there anything you can do?” she asks in a panic. 

Sona nods as points at the lid of her tank. She makes the same gesture to refer to Jhin and then the instrument he had taken.

“Your, your instrument? Can you help if you have it?” When Sona nods firmly, the guard purses her lips in hesitation. She chews the tip of her thumbnail in thought until they hear a metallic clang of the cargo hold’s gate above Sona’s tank. 

As they look up, they watch in horror as one of the crewmember’s body is torn apart by a siren that had managed to jump on board. His blood pours onto the top of the tarp covering Sona’s tank. 

The guard swallows a gag, looking away. “Okay,” she says. She turns back to Sona. “I’ll get you your instrument from his quarters. I, I don’t know if I might make it, but I’ll try.” The guard runs out of the hold, ignoring the other guards’ protests, and makes her way up to the deck. She glances at the helm, the captain now replaced by another hand. 

“What are you doing?” the navigator hisses when she runs past her to Jhin’s quarters. “You’re a dead sailor if he catches you going in there.”

“It’s for the sake of this ship. The siren can help us.” The guard sneaks into Jhin’s quarters and searches the room for the golden instrument. She spots it sitting atop a dresser in the corner of his room, where the siren’s old tank once remained. “There!” Grabbing the instrument and stashing it in her satchel, she runs out of the quarters and back to the deck.

The heavy stench of blood and sea water penetrates her senses as soon as she steps outside. She gags at the sight of dead human and siren bodies littered all over deck. She takes a deep breath, forces herself to look away from the scene, and rushes back down to the hold.

“What have you done?” a guard asks when she produces the instrument from her satchel. “Are you insane?”

“If the siren says she can do something about this situation, I’m willing to take that risk,” she protests. “Get the other guards. We need them to take her up to the deck.”

“Captain will kill all of us!”

“Then what else is there left to do?! I went up there, and we’ve already lost so many hands! The sirens are climbing up the deck! We need her!”

A guard extends out an arm to stop her from climbing up the stairs. “Some of us don’t want to die because of what you did, don’t you understand that?”

“Would you rather all of us die then?” she asks solemnly. The others fall silent. “And if the captain’s more than willing to kill us after all this, then so be it. He’s only losing more of his crew. I’m still going,” she insists urgently. She lunges up the steps to the top of the tank and unlatches the lid. Sona immediately bursts of the water towards the guard, who shields herself thinking she made a mistake of freeing the siren.

But nothing happens. 

Instead, Sona is hunched over the edge with her instrument finally in her hands. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the cowering guard with a grateful smile. “Thank you ,” a voice says with a pluck of the strings. 

The guard’s eyes widen for a moment, but she regains her composure. “Y-you’re welcome.” She leans forward and hovers her hands over Sona’s shoulders. “We can carry you up to the deck.” Her heart nearly leaps to her throat when Sona suddenly grabs her wrist while shaking her head and pointing her finger at the guard’s forehead.

Jhin will kill her. All of them. 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” The guard tucks her arms under Sona’s and lifts her out of the tank. “Come on, we need to get you up there.” One by one, the guards in the hold come up to help her carry Sona down the stairs onto a stretcher. “I thought you didn’t want to get killed by captain?”

“Better than all of us dying to these things… or worse, getting taken for torture and experimentation in Zaun,” a guard mutters, to which the others chime in agreement. 

As they reach closer to deck, the female guard speaks up. “We have enough of us to hold her while joining in the fight. There’s a chance the Zaunites will try to take her too. Two of us need to hold the stretcher while the rest of you surround it and fight whoever tries to come after us, got it?”

“Got it. Ready?” The crewmembers crouch to prepare to run out to the deck. Sona sits up on the stretcher with her instrument at the ready. 

Down in the base of the southeastern mountains of Ionia lived a Vastayan tribe of bat-like creatures. Living by the mountains, they flew around the forests to forage for food, lay traps, and scout the area. Liliya’s tribe was well-known for their ability to fly high into the sky and use echolocation to search for food or intruders. Being isolated from most human societies, she lived a mostly peaceful life.

But the amount of food was beginning to diminish over time, and her tribe had to venture farther out into the forests to forage. One night, a group returned from their trip, a few injured and one in critical condition from wounds inflicted by human villagers. They had gone too close to the outskirts of a village, where they were attacked. Liliya offered to scout the nearby village to gather information. Despite the protests of the elders, she took off into the forest and towards the village.

Once near the outskirts of the village, she landed in a tree and released a high-pitched screech towards the village. The soundwave bounced back to her, giving her a clearer view of the village. The appearances of her tribe members had brought the guards to the village. At this rate, her tribe wouldn’t be able to find food near here.

Suddenly, she picked up the sound of someone hissing ‘psst’ by a pile of wooden crates. It was another Vastayan like her, with a bird-like wing and tall feathery ears. The Vastayan, named Xayah, requested to speak with her tribe, for their kind was in danger. Liliya immediately took her deep into the forest to grant Xayah’s request.

Xayah informed her tribe of a corruption in their land, draining magic from surrounding lands and disrupting the connection to the spirit realm. She explained that this was being caused by the humans using magic for their own selfish desires, according to her experiences and observations. She insisted that if Liliya’s tribe didn’t take action, their race was going to die off. Xayah left as soon as she relayed her message, to start her next mission for her cause.

Liliya’s tribe was at a loss. They were foragers, not warriors. They eventually fell back to their usual routine of searching for food and trying to live a peaceful life. But Liliya realized that Xayah may have been right. Trees and plants were withering, prey was scarce, and even her people were feeling weak. She set out to find Xayah and ask her for advice.

She eventually found Xayah in a forest near an Ionian human camp in the south, biding her time. Liliya, desperately wanting to help, decided to help her scout the camp to see if the humans were disrupting the magical flow. Xayah set a rendezvous to meet up at, as there was another camp in the north that she also wanted to check.

Flying over the camp in the dead of night, Liliya used her echolocation to get a better view of the humans. She flew past groups of tents, circling around the camp for a while. Not seeing anything suspicious, she decided to head towards the rendezvous point. Shouting. The humans were shouting something. The moment Liliya turned around, an arrow struck her eye. Overwhelmed by pain, she blindly sought for shelter, but the humans continued to attack her. Her wings took damage, rendering her unable to fly and falling into the forest below the cliff.

When she woke up, she was in a shelter made of leaves and vine. She was saved by a traveling healer, Soraka, who found her unconscious and badly injured. Soraka told Liliya of her deeds as one who travels Ionia to heal the wounded and protect the helpless. Bewildered by Soraka’s ideals, Liliya tried to go back to the rendezvous point to meet up with Xayah as soon as possible, against Soraka’s wishes. She escaped one night, hoping Xayah was still waiting for her. But because of the damage to her wings and leg, she couldn’t get very far.

Soraka found Liliya again and took her back to their shelter, treating Liliya’s wounds once more. This time, Liliya stayed until she fully recovered. During her recovery, she listened to Soraka’s stories, and her view of the world began to change. It wasn’t just the Vastaya suffering. The humans had their own burdens to bear.

Once fully recovered, Liliya followed Soraka to the camp she flew over a few days ago. Over the course of several days, Liliya familiarized herself with the humans in the camp and helped Soraka tend to the injured. She even helped scout the area for intruders and gather food for the humans. Soon, the camp welcomed Liliya like Soraka.

As Liliya was coming back from her hunt, she recognized Xayah, who was attacking unarmed civilians. She immediately swooped in to deflect a quill shooting straight for a young woman. Xayah, feeling betrayed, argued with Liliya that helping humans was endangering her own kind. But Liliya felt differently. The humans had their own lives to worry about, and these humans weren’t actively hurting the Vastaya. Xayah was repulsed by Liliya’s mindset and left to move on to her next mission.

Dear, Y/N

I knew you'd end up looking into my shirt drawer once I left for tour, so I figured I would leave you a little surprise. I knew you'd miss me too much that you would just HAVE to wear one of my shirts to bed ;)

Alright, I'll stop being a jackass now. You told me how much you love letters so I figured I'd write some for you while I'm on the road. As I'm writing this, I haven't even left yet and I already miss you so much. This is gonna suck mega balls, I know it.

Try and get some sleep and take care of yourself while I'm gone, My Star. I'll try and see you whenever I can and I'll call as often as possible.

Love always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

I hope you enjoyed my first letter, we just made it to St. Louis. I don't know how many of these I'll be able to write and receive just because we'll be moving so fast, but I'll write as many as I can, I pinky promise. (See? I do remember things)

Every show so far has been FUCKING WILD! God, I wish you could be here to see it all, I think you'd love it.

I miss you, Y/N. I don't wanna be sad and sappy but it's true. You're My Star, how am I supposed to be a rockstar without My Star? Right now, I'm just a rock and that's not nearly as cool. I'm gonna stop writing this so I can call you.

I love you always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

Fuck, I'm so sorry. I haven't written in forever. I'll try and do better after these next California shows. At least we'll get to see each other for those, right? It's gonna feel amazing to hug you and finally have you in my arms again. The guys miss you too. Kirk says he needs you to paint his nails again before we leave again like it won't be gone in like three days.

I hope you're taking good care of yourself and I'll see you soon.

Love always, your rock, Cliff

Dear, Y/N

WE'RE IN EUROPE BABE!!!!!

It's honestly so cool, we explored some old castles and shit yesterday. The time zones keep waking me out so I don't know when to try and call you, I'm sorry I haven't.

I have been taking pictures for you though. We could make a little scrapbook with them when I get home! We are currently in Ireland so you best believe we are drinking THE BEST beer ever.

I honestly don't know what to write about. All I know is that I love you and I miss you and I can't wait to come home or at least fly you out for a show in some random country.

Soon, My Star,

I love you always, your rock, Cliff.

Dear, Y/N

Hey, it's Lars. I know you already got the news by the time it gets to you, but I know he'd want me to send it anyway, even if it isn't finished. We'll be there soon. Hang tight, please. We love you.

Dear, Y/N

You were laid out on the floor with your new coloring book and a pack of markers while Dave smoked a cigarette on the couch. He swore that you were the sweetest thing he had ever seen, he thought he must've been the luckiest man alive to have such a perfect girl as you.

"Whatcha colorin' over there, princess?" Dave asked before he put out his cigarette and he squatted next to you.

"A butterfly! I'm coloring it pink and purple but I don't know what color to make the flower it's sitting on." You turn to face him. "What do you think, Davey?"

He smiles at the nickname before brushing a hand through your hair. "Hm, how red and orange?"

Your eyes brighten and a smile grows on your face. "You are so smart, Davey! I love you." You sit up on your elbows and give him a small kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, sweet angel. I love you most." He smiles as you turn back to your page and he places a kiss on the top of your head. "My sweet sweet angel." He whispers as he runs his hand through your hair once more before going to sit back on the couch.

"Wait, where you goin'?" You move to sit on your heels and look up at him. "Come back and color with me?" You ask with big eyes as you grab the red and orange markers and hand them to him.

He lets out a chuckle before sitting down next to you. "Of course, baby, whatever you want. Where should I start?"

You smile at him before showing him where you want him to color. "I'm gonna go get my glitter pens, you start on the petals." You quickly stand up and run to your desk. He sat there with a smile as he took the cap off the orange marker and started to color the petals.